#and it was surprisingly hard to find one with centimeters on one side and inches on the other

[quilleth]

:( once more defeated by pattern drafting and math, my archnemesis

i found a different tutorial to try so i'm going to attempt that one to get the basic pattern and then will alter it for the silhouette i want, assuming it turns out ok. I like lomi playground's videos and tutorials, but the pants drafting one is a little hard to follow, and I definitely did something wrong, but have no idea what. which honestly just sums up me doing any flat pattern drafting ever. Except sleeves. somehow of all things, those are the only things that the flat pattern drafting made sense on in my classes xD Draping is much easier for me, but i can't exactly pin into resin, and since i already did the blushing on dollbei jun and am already having issues with it chipping in places, i don't want to try the tape method (I'm also not sure how to make that work for pants anyway).

#quilleth in real life #quill's bjd adventures #my measurements are more or less the same as what's given on the doll listing #so as far as i can tell i didn't mess up there #lomi has the sid pattern for basic pants on her website but i really ought to work on my drafting more #it's not quite the same size for the 73 loongsoul body but close #so i guess if i can't figure it out with the other tutorial i'll just use it #but that won't help me for dollhua #or for their shirts tbh. i have a pattern book for hanfu for those but they're for human scale #so it's going to be a trial getting those right at all. i was hoping the pants would be easier :/ #doesn't help that my drafting ruler has a chunk out of the centimeter side #i ordered a new one but idk when it will be here #and it was surprisingly hard to find one with centimeters on one side and inches on the other

[kozozaki]

Arson is a great pastime - Chapter 2

Y/n was on her way to L'manburg when she saw Tommy running in her direction. "Whoa, slow down Tommy, what's the hurry for?"

"I was, looking for you, actually," he seemed very out of breath. How long had he been running for?

“Why?”

“What? Can’t I just want to see a friend?” He sounded offended.

“Tommy, you always have ulterior motives," he scowled, knowing it was the truth.

“Fine,” Tommy huffed, “Y’know this new guy, Ranboo?”

She tensed for a split second, she was still wary of him. She should trust her older brother, but it was hard with everything he's done in the past, "Yeah."

"Well, y'know how George was nowhere to be seen during the- the war?" He hesitated, it had been over for a while but it was still a sensitive topic. She nodded in understanding, "I found out what he was doing! The motherfucker was building a house, in the middle of a fucking war!"

Tommy was outraged but Y/n couldn't help but laugh, "At least he wasn't sleeping for once!"

He smiled, "You laugh so fucking easily," he paused debating if he should say it or not, "Pussy."

Y/n instantaneously stopped laughing and looked up at the smug boy. She pulled her sword out of its sheath and positioned it so it would be only a few centimeters from his throat.

"Y/n, what are you doing with that sword?" His voice was shaky, obviously afraid. It was her turn to be cocky now, giving a sarcastic shrug,  expertly avoiding his neck. "Okay okay, I'm sorry! Just, please, don't kill me!"

"Hmmm. Okay Tommy!" Tommy looked incredibly confused at the girl's compliance. He quickly realized that it was all an act to scare him. They are only a few people who she wouldn't hesitate to kill given the chance, and he wasn't one of them.

"Okay, so follow me," Y/n did, and was lead behind the portal and to a cozy looking, mushroom themed home, "George was building a home, in the middle of a war."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Of course he would…" She said in a slightly upset monotone voice.

"I have a plan to get back at him! That's why we need Ranboo, so if we get caught we can frame him!"

"Tommy! We can't just frame people! Are you insane?! What are we even gonna do that'll warrant framing someone?!" She panicked, Tommy never thought anything through.

"Calm down woman, so many questions! Just doing some minor robbing," Y/n started walking the other way, " maybe a little, lighting fires, as well." She turned back around, her eyes wide. Of course, he had to mention fire. Y/n was a bit of a pyromaniac, so much so that Dream's nickname for her was firebug.

"Oh, you fucker. I'll help, but only if we don't frame Ranboo. He can help, if he wants. If he's blamed for it first we don't interfere, but if either or both of us get pointed out first, we don't pin it on him, okay?"

Tommy nods, agreeing to her terms. "Okay, let's find this Ranboo first.”

“Oh, I think I saw him in the nether actually!” Y/n ran towards the portal, Tommy accompanying her.

They arrived and saw him right by the nether portal. "H-Hey, Ranboo," Tommy looked at her startled, she was never one to stutter. She looked at him with a look that screamed ‘Did I just do that?’ He nodded slowly, still looking confused.

“Hey, guys.” Ranboo had no idea why they were looking at each other like that.

“Oh, hello, Ranboo. We want you to help us with something.”

“Jeez, Tommy, straight to the point…” Y/n muttered.

“Don’t doubt me Y/n.” He leaned towards her ear, only a couple of inches.

“Sorry, Tommy.” As she finished her sentence, Ranboo pulled out a book and wrote something. She was curious but didn’t want to be rude.

“What do you want my help with, Y/n and Tommy?”

“First off, it’s Tommy and Y/n, not Y/n and Tommy,” Y/n gave him a quick jab in the side with her elbow, he winced but carried on, ignoring her sharp glare, “Also, come with us to my house, we’ll tell you.”

“I don’t know why we’re going to Tommy’s house, but it’s safe, I’m pretty sure.”

“‘I’m pretty sure?’ Why aren’t you completely sure? Should I be concerned?” Ranboo questioned.

“What is with you guys and questions?”

“Nah, there isn’t really any reason to be concerned, just be on edge, who knows what the hell Tommy does in his free time.”

Tommy huffed in annoyance toward Y/n’s teasing. They were at Tommy’s home. Tommy asked Ranboo where he wanted to go, and he chose the lair. “Ranboo, I say we rob George.”

“I- Why would we rob him?” Ranboo asked. The h/c girl averted her eyes, starting to regret agreeing to this, or rather, starting to regret it more than she did a few minutes ago.

“Right, you’re new here. Just simple payback Ranboo. You see, we had a war almost 2 weeks ago, and George didn’t show up, at all. And, earlier today, I found out what he was doing, instead of participating in a war. He was building a goddamn house. Now, we won’t destroy anything, we’ll just steal a few things. Y/n will light a few fires, not his house though, just a few trees that are around, they’re far enough away from each other, we won’t start a forest fire. We just want minor payback.”

“That sounds, better? But, why do you want me to help?”

“Ranboo let’s face it, Y/n is probably sick and tired of me, she needs more friends.”

“That sounds incredibly sad, are you okay?” Y/n appreciated how genuine his concern was.

“Yeah, I’m pretty okay. My brother is kinda a psychopath, and the man that was like a substitute older brother to me was killed. Other than that, I’d say I’m doing a-okay, Ranboo,” she didn’t realize how that sounded until she looked up and saw Ranboo’s slightly perplexed posture. “I-I’m sorry! That sounded really bitter and sarcastic, I’m actually fine, those things are just, kind of hard to comprehend, still,” she talked slower towards the end of her sentence.

Ranboo noticed this, “H-Hey, it’s fine, Y/n, I understand, it didn’t sound as mean as you think, it’s okay.” He smiled, which she could hardly see through his mask, but she knew it was there. She smiled back.

“Okay, let’s go.” She said.

Once they arrived, Y/n strode towards a tall spruce tree. She pulled out her flint and steel and stared at it for a moment in dispute with herself. If she did this, what would happen? Would they actually be caught? What if Dream found out? She rubbed the flint against a rock to see if it still worked. A couple of sparks flew before it set the leaf she was holding with her left hand on fire. She hissed when the burning touched her skin slightly. She hadn’t done this for a while.

“No time like the present,” Y/n whispered to no one but herself. She took a step closer to the tree and with a swift cutting motion, the bark of the tree erupted into hot orange flares. She backed away with a sadistic smirk. She looked around for a brief second, surveying to see if anyone was near, only to see that there was another fire a few meters away from her’s. One that was burning parts of George’s home.

She ran into the house to see what they were doing. She saw crying obsidian on the walls, derogatory messages on signs, but most notably patches of netherrack on the floor, each covered in fire. “What the hell? This is why I was put in charge of the burning!”

“What’re you on about Y/n? I’ve got this!” Tommy sounded so sure of himself, unaware of what he had done.

“Obviously you don’t, George’s house is burning on the outside!” She yelled at him.

Tommy looked at her with wide eyes, she’s only ever been this angry at Dream. There was a long silence, during which she visibly calmed down, the look in her eyes was of lament, her body was visibly shaking, purely from her regret of everything that happened in the past 5 minutes. “Guys we have to go,” Tommy said quickly, exiting the grieved home.

Y/n nodded but didn’t move. Tommy was already over by the jungle trees waiting for them. Ranboo noticed Y/n wasn’t moving. He placed a hand on the top of her back, “C’mon Y/n, if we wait too long to leave they’ll know it was us, okay?”

“Okay, Ranboo,” she said just hardly loud enough for him to hear. They walked through the forest to avoid being seen until they go to Tommy’s base and inside his lair. They stashed everything they stole under the stone flooring.

“We should go talk to Niki and Puffy for an alibi,” Tommy suggested.

“You guys can go do that. Can I stay here for a while, Tommy? I don’t feel so good,” the girl said, her voice trembling.

“You can stay here as long as you like Y/n, don’t worry about it,” Tommy gave her a sad smile to which she returned, taking comfort in the pinkish-purple couch, which was surprisingly warm for being underground.

Tommy walked over to the ladder, Ranboo following him closely. Tommy was already above ground, but Ranboo waited at the bottom of the ladder. “Bye, Y/n. Don’t worry, if anything happens, I know it wasn’t your fault. Just don’t beat yourself up over it, please.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/n responded, “Thank you, Ranboo. I-I’ll try not to.”

“I don’t want to come back to you being gone, or having a panic attack. So please, avoid doing that.”

“Hurry up Ranboo!”

She laughed quietly and nodded, “Goodbye, Ranboo.”

“Goodbye, Y/n for real this time.”

She watched as he climbed up the ladder. If he was a spy, she would be more upset than she would’ve been originally. She doubted it though.

----------

alkjfdakslfjkl, this took forever. But I’m actually kind of happy with how it turned out?

#ranboo x reader #ranboo #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp #mcyt

[angryschnauzer]

Superior Specimen - Chapter 5

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig… and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Drunken Piggy Back Rides, Oral Sex (Female Recieving), Drama, Theft, Amateur Heroics, Hospital Visit, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Blow Job, Fingering,

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Please note this chapter has not been beta’d/spellchecked.

Chapter 5

Henry had helped you at every step; from opening the car door for you to helping you up the stairs and into your flat. When you’d told him that the doctors had instructed you not to be alone overnight, he smiled at you kindly and said he wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving you alone after a hospital visit. He’d grabbed his gym bag out of the back seat of his car and had somehow managed to juggle that, your bag, having one arm around your waist up the stairs, and opened the door all with ease. 

He’d run you a bath and with surprisingly delicate dexterity had carefully stripped you before helping you into the scented waters, no sexual touches, instead it had been about making sure you were ok. 

You sat in the water for a moment in complete silence before drawing your knees up to your chest and you started to cry, the tension of the afternoon finally seeping out of you. You felt a large hand gently rub your back, and as you wiped your eyes with the backs of your hands you looked at Henry, the concern showing on his face;

“Will you get in with me?”

He nodded and stood, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and toeing off his shoes, before removing his khaki’s then balling his socks. Everything was folded and placed in a neat pile and his hands rested on the elastic of his underwear;

“Do you want me to keep these on?”

You shook your head;

“I’ll keep my eyes closed” and screwed them shut, the sound of his low chuckle resonating around the room.

“I don’t mind if you do look”

Opening your eyes just a crack you were greeted with the sight of Henry in his full glory striding towards the bath, and you weren’t given time to process how perfect his body was;

“Scoot up, i’ll get in behind you”

As Henry stepped in the water rose dramatically, his legs stretching out either side of you before he gently grasped your shoulders and eased you back until you were laying on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder so he could press tender kisses to yours. His voice was quiet as he spoke;

“I saw what happened today”

“You did?”

“I had gone up to the offices on the 4th floor and had been looking out of the window over the lawns… i’d seen the guy running then you following, saw you take him down and everything unfold… by the time I managed to get downstairs you’d been taken away”

He took a deep breath;

“I was so fucking worried… i could see you had blood all over you, i had no idea what had happened and by the time i got outside all the coppers would say was that the guy had been armed with a knife. I had no clue where you’d been taken… god that copper that messaged me, i was ready to go within seconds…”

You turned in his arms, carefully moving until you were laying on your side, your hand resting on his large pectorials;

“I’m sorry i scared you”

He pressed a kiss to your lips;

“Never apologise for bravery. What you did was amazing”

You settled into Henry’s arms feeling safe and comforted, his hands slowly moving over your body, massaging aching muscles and washing away the last trace of the days stresses.

The rest of your night involved ordering pizza, which you had to stifle yawns as you made your way through your third slice. When Henry suggested you called it a night you looked at him pointedly;

“Will you join me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I just want to sleep in your arms tonight”

-

You woke up to the mattress dipping, and as you returned to consciousness you reached your arm out only to find the bed empty, just a warm spot where Henry must have only just gotten up. You reached for your phone to check the time, groaning when you saw it was time for you to get up for work… that was until you saw in your notifications an email from your boss, telling you that you were not to come in for a week. Your mind was still fuzzy with sleep still leaving and your brain coming into consciousness, so with a smile on your face you lay back against the pillows, before you heard your shower running and an idea entered your head.

Seconds later you were quietly sneaking into the bathroom, seeing Henry through the opaque class of the shower enclosure. Gently opening the door you snuck in and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing kisses to his back. He hummed out an appreciative grunt before you pulled back and looked at his ass;

“You have the most perfect ass i’ve ever seen on a man”

“Just wait until you see the front…”

He turned as you gazed into his eyes, sparkling with mischief before he kissed you, deep and passionate, his tongue dancing against your own. The water from the shower poured over your bodies, and you pulled away gently pushing Henry against the tiled wall, looking down and quirking one eyebrow as you saw his dick hanging heavy between his thighs. Without a word you got to your knees, keeping eye contact with him the entire time as you rested your hands on his thighs, gently running your fingernails down the thick muscles before your hands wrapped around his meaty girth which was rapidly hardening. You leant forwards, tightening your hand around him before lapping gently at his tip and the groan that left his mouth was sinful. You could feel him getting harder, growing beneath your touch, and with the help of the water flowing down his body you started to pump him slowly, teasing him to full tumescence. 

You tightened your other hand around him before opening your mouth and started to suck on his tip, easing a centimeter in at a time so your mouth could gradually stretch around him, your lips pulled tight as they circled the huge muscle whilst your tongue worked against the strong vein that ran along the underside. Soon he was panting, his breaths coming out in short puffs as he watched you take him deeper than he was expecting you to be able to on your first attempt;

“Fuck… Princess, you have the body of an angel and the mouth of a whore… so fucking good, you gonna take a bit more for me, huh?”

You were struggling as it was and you barely had two inches in your mouth, his girth stretching your lips so tight yet it got wider the further down the shaft. You watched as Henry went to place a hand on your head and then remembered you wound from the previous day, instead bracing himself against the walls of the shower enclosure. You knew you wouldn’t physically be able to take much more of his length in your mouth, so you moved one hand to his massive ballsack, cupping the heavy globes in your hand as your other hand worked the rest of his shaft, stroking and twisting as your fist met your lips. He threw his head back and let out a string of curses;

“Oh my fucking god, that’s so good… tug on my balls… fuck yes, your tongue…”

You swirled your tongue over smooth swollen head and you felt his legs tremble, and with a smile you did it again, the groan coming from his mouth followed by a long string of ‘fuck’s. You alternated between sucking his tip and tonguing the sensitive skin, moving your hand along his shaft until your thumb was pressing against is frenulum, rubbing his precum against the sensitive sinew, you tongue lapping at his slit as it now leaked a continual bead of clear fluid. He started to tremble and you pushed him deep into your mouth - as deep as you could take him - and he let out a strangled cry at the feeling of your hot mouth around him and you felt that tell-tale tremble in the thick vein on his underside. Moving your hands you pumped him hard, feeling his hot cum fill your mouth, tart on your tongue as he unloaded rope after rope of his creamy seed until it was spilling from the corners of your mouth. 

You swallowed what you could before pulling away, making your pumps of your fist gentler as the last few spurts covered your chest and breasts. Henry caught your hand in his, stopping you before helping you to your feet. He looked like sin; flushed cheeks and chest, his eyes blissfully relaxed as he dragged a finger through his cum on your chest, scooping a little onto the tip before offering it to you, watching as you sucked his finger into your mouth before letting it out with an audible pop. The second his finger was out of your mouth his was kissing you, tongue and teeth, he has no issue with tasting himself on your tongue.

When he pulled away you chased after his lips, letting out a whine at the loss of his tongue and he chuckled;

“We keep this up and you’ll be late for work”

You nuzzled at his neck and smiled;

“I’ve been given a week off, had an email from my Manager this morning, so…”

“So... “ Henry grinned and pressed you against the cool tiles, his mouth moving to your neck as he laved his tongue over the soft skin, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke; “... i still haven’t brought you dinner…”

“Ow…” you whined like a brat; “but i need you…”

“How about we just see what this pussy can take first?”

He slid a hand down your stomach and you instinctively parted your legs, sighing as you felt his fingers delve into your soaked folds and sought out your clit before delving further and he ran the wide tip of his finger over your entrance, teasing out some of your wetness only to return to your clit and rub firm figure eights against the sensitive bud. Once you were trembling at his tough he slid that finger back to your entrance and slowly pushed inside, making you mewl with pleasure at just one finger;

“Henry…please...” 

“Yes Princess?”

“More…”

With a chuckle he slid a second finger in and you almost saw stars. You’d not really taken in just how big his hands were, how long and thick his fingers were, but as he scissored two slowly inside you, you were almost ready to cum. He shifted slightly, bending down enough to take one of your nipples into his mouth, covering the entire thing as his tongue worked over the teat and massaged the areola. At the same time he curled his fingers inside you, stroking at that spot high up that had your legs going weak and made you cling to his arms to stay upright;

“Oh fuck… Henry, i want you to fuck me, please…” you whined, only to be met with a low chuckle;

“You think you’re ready for me? Think i can squeeze in this tight little pussy?”

“Please…”

“Well if you think two fingers is enough to stretch you you’re in for a shock, now relax Princess, i’m gonna need to slide a third in, and only then will we see if you can take my cock”

His mouth moved to your neck again as he twisted his hand and slowly started to squeeze a third finger in, and you whimpered at the stretch and burn of being so stuffed full. His thumb lightly grazed against your clit and rubbed the lightest of circles against it, all whilst gently pulsing his fingers inside your silken channel. Your knees almost buckled from the sheer pleasure of feeling so full, and you knew that he would be barely in halfway compared to his dick. His lips found yours again and he claimed you with a hungry kiss, his free hand finding your chest, cupping one breast before pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His thumb worked harder and he crooked his fingers inside you, the trigger to send you over the edge and you were screaming out your orgasm as you trembled in his grasp.

Resting his forehead against yours he carefully pulled his fingers from your body, your breath coming out in short pants as your heart raced. You watched as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, before leaning back and grabbing the showerhead and carefully washing your body clean. 

Finally he shut the water off and helped you climb out, wrapping a towel around you before starting to towel himself off;

“So what will you be doing with your newly found freedom this week then?”

“I might take myself shopping” you mused; “Or perhaps to a yoga class… gonna have to do some stretches ready for Friday night” you winked at him.

He stood close and pulled you into his arms, his hands running over the skin of your back as you stood naked before him; 

“That sounds fun” he laughed; “But also take it easy”

Chapter 6 >>>

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill au

[xplrerdolan]

what abouttttt, a concept with Aryia or Colby (u choose) where you see eachother at a party and there’s a lot of pining and flirting before they finally kiss at the end

i FEEL like i should write this for aryia bc i haven’t written for him before.........BUT i am simply colby brock’s personal fleshlight bitch so imma write this one for him 😭 i love you so much for sending this in, you’re the best ok 🥺

—

You can feel his eyes on you. You don’t even have to look at him, however far behind you he is. He’s somewhere close, though—either standing against a wall, or pretending to listen to a conversation, or cracking open another White Claw with his ring-clad fingers. Whatever he was doing, wherever he was, whoever was around him, there was no doubt in your mind that his eyes were fixated on the curve of your spine.

You periodically moved through the crowd, mingling meaninglessly with other people—flirting whenever you had the chance, and doing it painfully obviously. You weren’t avoiding him. That would be the farthest thing from the truth. This was only the beginning of the little game the two of you played... a cat and mouse dance where the cat was too pussy to catch the mouse. You flirting with others was bait for him to rise to—interesting, how the prey can stalk the predator sometimes.

And it always worked on him. “You seem to be having a lot of fun,” came his voice from behind you. He liked to think he was sneaking up on you. But he was far too predictable.

You looked over your shoulder, barely looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He hated how disinterested you looked. Honestly, if he didn’t make a move soon, you wouldn’t just look the part anymore.

“Nice of you to notice,” you smirked, biting the edge of your red solo cup before taking a sip of your bittersweet drink.

With your side-eye still taunting him, you looked him up and down slowly. You let your eyes linger on certain parts of him, letting him feel the intensity of your gaze, before finally meeting his eyes. You turned to him, crossing one arm over your chest while you let the other dangle at your side, gripping your cup by its rim.

“Surely you didn’t just come over here to comment on how much I’m enjoying this party?” You quirked a brow at him, tilting your head to the side. You were challenging him, once again setting up the opportunity to pounce.

But, as he hadn’t for the last two months, he didn’t take it. He shrugged, frowning comtemplatively. “Maybe I did.”

He turned away from you, your eyes now watching him. You narrowed them at his back, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Your eyes trailed after him, waiting for him to leave your line of sight before you followed after him. You kept your distance just as he had kept his. You found him again after a few seconds of searching; he was making his way to the kitchen, probably to get another drink. You let him walk ahead of you before going after him.

You walked into a surprisingly empty kitchen to find Colby taking a cold White Claw out of the fridge. You walked over to him, putting your drink down on the counter loud enough to make sure you got his attention. Sure enough, you did. You turned and hopped up to sit on the counter, your legs dangling over the edge as you leaned back onto your hands.

“I like your skirt,” he said, leaning back against the island counters that ran parallel to the ones you were sitting on.

The article of clothing in question had ridden up quite a bit when you jumped up to sit down, leaving much of your legs exposed to him. “Do you? Or do you like what’s under it?”

His cheeks and neck flushed slightly, making you flash him a cocky smile. “Don’t act so smug,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

He pushed himself off the counter, keeping those smoldering eyes on yours as he stepped closer.

“Why shouldn’t I? I’ve got you all flustered.” You tried not to look affected by him as he continued to close the distance between you, but with every inch, more butterflies raged in your stomach.

He stopped less than a centimeter away from your knees, the closest he’d been to you since you’d started playing this game with each other. You weren’t sure what the objective of it was, since neither of you ever acted on these advances—they only got more intense as time went on. And now was no different.

You held eye contact with him, not flinching away from his azure stare. However, because of this, you hadn’t noticed his hand moving towards you until his fingertips brushed against your knee, barely making contact. Suddenly, his fingers were curled around your calf and he was pulling you to the edge of the counter, now situated between your legs. You drew in a sharp breath, your right hand shooting out to clutch his shoulder. You barely registered his movements before his lips were next to your neck, his breath fanning against your skin, tickling you in the most sensual way. You remained completely still, stunned by how quickly things had escalated.

With his lips now next to your ear, he whispered lowly, “Who’s flustered now?”

And just as fast as he had put himself between your legs, he was gone—his retreating form going back to the crowded party a few steps away. You caught your breath for a second, calming your heart rate. You closed your legs subconsciously, worried someone might see the wet spot on your panties, before jumping off the counter and grabbing your drink again. You chugged what was left of it, welcoming the burning sensation. With a final steadying breath, you moved back out to the party to pursue the source and target of your desire.

You wandered through the crowd, dancing around groups of people with your eyes darting around for any sign of Colby. You looked around for a few minutes, starting to feel frustrated when you couldn’t find him. Because of this, you were startled when a hand rested against your waist, and even more surprised when the pressure of three rings was evident against your skin. He never managed to sneak up on you.

“Lost?” he asked mockingly, pulling your body against his.

You pressed yourself against him in response, moving your hips in time with the music. “No, only wandering.”

“Really? You seemed to be looking for someone,” he said, leaning down to rest his chin against your shoulder.

“Maybe I was,” you said, the alcohol you’d chugged giving you the edge you were looking for. “Maybe I still am.”

“Oh?” he replied, the hand on your waist gripping you tighter. “Who are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for someone who won’t just flirt with me for two months without making a move; someone who won’t start something he knows he doesn’t have the balls to finish—”

Before you could get your next words out, the hand on your waist was spinning you around and the softest pair of lips you’d ever felt were on yours. You relaxed into his embrace, lifting your hands up to wrap them around his neck. Your fingers laced themselves through his hair, pulling at the strands just enough to tease him. Your tongues met and a hint of the flavors of your last drink and his combined, leaving the ghost of the taste behind. You moaned into his mouth and it was enough to get him to bite your lip just hard enough to make you moan a little louder.

He pulled away from you a little breathlessly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Let’s get out of here so I can show you a thing or two about balls and finishing.”

#colbysbltch #seriously thank u for sending this in #this was fun to write 😭 #ALSO IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I HAVE ADHD ORDSJIFIHFI #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock blurb #colby brock smut #colby brock imagine #traphouse boys #concept #asks

[hazbinhotelandchill]

Combined two requests so I could feel better about once again writing TOO DAMN MUCH.

As usual I edited the quote a bit to better suit Alastor. This one feels a bit out of character for me still though, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.

64. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole."

14. "Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop."

Romantic relationships and you just didn't mix. You'd get into one, have a good time for a few weeks, and then the person you were with would turn into a total douche. It was a constant cycle, a never-ending nightmare you wished you could escape. Sure you could stop dating all together, but you craved attention, needed it like a drug. So you made yourself suffer, entering every relationship knowing exactly how it would end.

Recently you had been dating some demon you had met at a club. He had been charming enough at first, but soon he had started to shift, and now you were left crying in your room, staring at a breakup text because he didn't even respect you enough to say it to your face.

You were crestfallen; you had only been dating a few months, but you had thought he would be different. Foolish, you were so foolish. You knew how things always played out for you, why would this have been any different?

Sniffling, you buried your face in your pillow, throwing your phone somewhere off to the side. Charlie had repeatedly tried to cheer you up, coming to your door with treats to try and persuade you to come out and talk. But, much to her dismay, it hadn't worked, and you assumed she had given up because you hadn't heard from her in a few hours.

That was until you heard a knock at your door. Assuming it was Charlie, you slowly got to your feet, shuffling your way to your door. You wiped vigorously at your eyes, trying to rid them of the tears that seemed determined to fall. Opening the door, it was then you realized that it wasn't Charlie at all. Instead, you were met with a wide grin and two glowing red eyes.

"(Y/N)!" Surprise was clear on your face as you stared up at Alastor. Out of all the people you had expected to show up at your bedroom door, he was the last person on your list. Glancing around, wondering if perhaps there was someone else with him who had convinced him to come by, you were surprised again to find he was alone. Not sure what to make of it all, you looked back up at him, confusion apparent in your expression.

"Can I help you?" It came out a bit colder than you intended it too, your voice still a little hoarse from crying all day. It wasn't that you didn't like Alastor, it was just that his presence made you nervous; you never knew what to expect from him, and that made your anxiety spike. One minute he could be all dad jokes and songs, the next it was all chaos and murder, and you could never tell when the switch would be flipped.

"Help me? Ha! Nonsense, have you ever known me to need any help? I'm actually here to help you, my dear!" You raised an eyebrow, confusion only deepening. That was... Unexpected. Why would he want to help you?

Before you could ask, however, Alastor was entering your room, pushing by you without a care in the world. It caught you off guard, though you knew it shouldn't have. Alastor did as he pleased when he pleased, and it was no different when it came to you or anyone else in the hotel.

Pursing your lips, you watched him look around your room, taking in it's dissaray. Your nightstand was covered in dishes from all the different treats Charlie had brought up, and your trash bin was overflowing with tissues. Your closet was thrown open, clothes strewn across the floor from when you had gone through them, trying to find the clothes that you had borrowed from your ex. Said clothes were now slowly turning to ash in your fireplace, causing a dark smoke to arise from the flames.

After a moment his eyes landed on you, and a bit of embarrassment flushed on your cheeks. You were in just as much dissaray as your room, your hair tussled and your eyes red and puffy. With an oversized sweatshirt and raggedy sweatpants, it wasn't really the best look. You really didn't want him of all people to see you looking like you did, because while Alastor unnerved the hell out of you, there was also a bit of fondness for him in your heart. He made you laugh, and complimented you whenever he had the chance. Whether he was genuine or not was entirely up in the air, but it still made you feel things, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to deny said things.

“What do you mean you want to help me?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest, trying your best to stand up tall and preserve any dignity you had left. It made his eyes narrow, his smile widen, and for a second you thought you saw his eyes flash with mischief.

"Why, I mean just that! Just look at this place-" his hands motioned to your surroundings. "And just look at you!" Your nose scrunched, not enjoying his implications. He chuckled at this, walking over to the side of your bed, and with a snap of his fingers the dishes had vanished.

"I don't need your help, Al," you said as he stepped over a tissue, watching as he waved his hand, and all the tissues that had been scattered across your floor floated into the trash bin.

"No?" He asked, turning to you, one eyebrow raised. "But you seem to be in such a state of distress, my dear. You're practically dripping with melancholy!"

"Well," you began, glancing at the floor, trying to figure out what you would say to him. You hadn't really expected Alastor of all people to care, in truth, so you weren't entirely sure how to respond. Did he actually want to hear what was wrong? Or was there some sort of hidden agenda he had that you weren't aware of? After a minute, you sighed. "Yeah, I am."

Walking over to your bed, you sat on the end, hands folded in your lap. A heavy weight was on your shoulders, causing you to slouch. You stared at the floor for a minute, wondering if you really should spill your guts to the infamous radio demon of all people, but after a moment you reluctantly gave in.

You told him about your history with relationships, how they never seemed to go the way you'd hoped. You told him about your ex, how much you had cared for him and wanted things to work. You even told him about the text, how distant and cold it had been compared to how he used to be.

You laid it all out, explaining your heartbreak and wearing it on your sleeve for all to see. By the time you finished, Alastor had sat down next to you on your bed, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. It was a surprisingly kind and gentle act for someone like him, but while unexpected it certainly wasn't unwelcome.

After you finished, a silence hung in the air, the only sound coming from the crackling fire. You were content to just sit there however; Alastor was gently combing his fingers through your hair, and the sensation was slowly lulling you to sleep. You were sure you wouldn't last much longer when his hand stilled, and curiously you looked up at him.

His eyes were trained on you, taking in every detail of your face. His smile, ever present, held a warmth you didn't often see in Hell, and it sent butterflies aflutter in your stomach. You wanted to look away, but something kept your gaze on him. A fire was beginning to ignite itself in your chest, threatening to burn down all in it's path.

Suddenly you were made all too aware of just how close you two were. Your face burned red, embarrassment making itself well known in your mind. You had never been this close to him before; you could make out the scent of blood and brimstone .

Clearing your throat, you looked away from him- only to have his hand clasp your chin, guiding your gaze back to his. This only made your face burn hotter, feelings that you had been repressing for months threatening to bubble over. You wanted to turn tail and run- this was dangerous, after all; a game you were sure you couldn't win.

You should tell him to let you go. You should tell him to leave. Thank him for his time and usher him out the door. But you didn't, you just watched as his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, his gaze focused on the motion. He was being so gentle, it was catching you entirely off guard.

"(Y/N)." The sound of your name on his tongue nearly caused a shiver to work it's way down your spine. His face was slowly inching closer to yours, causing your heart to speed up with each second that passed. Were you really about to kiss the infamous radio demon?

He stopped mere centimeters from your lips; you could feel his breath brush across your skin. You stared at him, eyes wide, waiting, wondering what he would do. Time passed by slowly in that instance, until finally you felt his lips press against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You leaned into him. Placing one of your hands on his chest, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Part of you had been waiting for this for a long time, ever since you had first met Alastor. Your heart was singing, your mind jumping with joy. All heartbreak had been forgotten, and with each second that passed your heart slowly began to mend.

Alastor's hands went to cup your face, pulling you even closer to him. You felt his fingers curl in your hair, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. He kissed you long and hard, a passion in his actions that caused the fire in your chest to burn hotter. Warm, you were so warm.

When he finally pulled away, you gasped for air, your lungs greedily taking in oxygen. You opened your eyes, staring up at him. He stared back, and it took all your strength not to kiss him again. You were suddenly overcome with such a desire for him that it caught you off guard; you wanted him, in more ways than one.

"Alastor..." Your voice trailed off, your words getting lost on your tongue. How could you tell him that you wanted him- needed him? You couldn't, it was too risky, too dangerous. You had to stop this before it went any further.

But Alastor had other plans. As you tried to pull away from him, one of his hands went to the back of your neck, holding you in place. His other hand continued to cup your cheek, brushing gently across your skin. "My dear," he began, tilting his head slightly to the side. His voice was lower, clearer, and it caused you to catch your breath. "Has anyone ever told you how absolutely intoxicating you are?"

You couldn't speak, words stuck in your throat, so you shook your head. He hummed, the thumb that once brushed against your cheek falling to your lips. "Such a shame you waste your time with such pathetic creatures. Truly, your time would be better spent elsewhere, with someone else. Someone who respects you, and knows just how lucky they are to have you."

"Like who?" You asked, words quiet, barely audible. He chuckled at this, eyes narrowing, his nail digging into your bottom lip slightly.

"I wonder," he murmured, and then his lips were on yours again, molding together in perfect unison. It wasn't long until you were pushed back into the bed, Alastor hovering over you as you two kissed. It was passionate, and surprisingly loving, something you hadn't experienced in quite some time.

Within moments you were squirming under him, craving more than his simple kisses. "Alastor." You whispered his name on his lips, hands gripping tightly to his shoulders. He hummed again, his lips drifting from yours down to your neck, where you felt his teeth nip at your skin. You whined, restless; you needed more.

Biting your lip, your hands wandered down to his. Taking hold of them, you guided them to the bottom of your shirt, hoping he would he get the hint. A soft laugh fell from his lips, and you felt his nails against the sensitive flesh of your stomach.

"Trying to hint at something, are we?" You trembled as his nails danced across your skin, sharp and dangerous. They glided close to your waistband, causing you to inhale sharply. But then he paused, pulling away from you just enough to see your face. "Are you sure you want to do this? Once we start, I might not be able to stop."

The question came as a surprise to you. You hadn't expected him to care about such things. But still, you nodded, resolve set. You wanted this, wanted him, and you weren't about to change your mind.

Alastor's smile widened, and then his hands were on you, groping, kneading, tearing away at your clothes until they were nothing more than scraps on the floor. He was aggressive, but somehow still careful, and the fervor in which he touched you damn near caused you to ascend. It was mind numbing, causing you to writhe underneath him.

Once you were bear before him, he pulled away, taking in the sight of you with a delighted grin. Your face began to turn red, not used to being looked at in such a way. "Beautiful," he muttered, hands rubbing the sides of your thighs. "To think someone would abandon this..." He shook his head, leaning down to bury his face into your neck. Against your skin you heard him murmur, "When I'm through with you, you'll have forgotten you ever even met that arrogant fool."

And forget you did. You forgot all about the text, about the few months of dating- hell you forgot about your ex all together. Alastor took you with a feverish passion you hadn't expected; he was rough, savage almost, but he was also careful, and at times would look at you with such adoration it made you melt.

Sweat covered your skin, dampening the sheets beneath you. You were breathing heavily, your chest heaving up and down. Your body ached in new ways, but it was a good ache, a pleasant one that reminded you that it was all real. It really did happen.

Above you still was Alastor, eyes closed as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. There was the faintest of smiles on his face, and for a moment you just enjoyed the sight of him. His red and black hair was just as disheveled as yours, and a thin sheen of sweat blanketed his skin. His face was flushed, the smallest hints of red appearing on his cheeks. It was a sight you would hold dear to your heart for quite some time.

His eyes fluttered open after a minute, finding yours immediately. His smile widened, one of his hands finding it's way to your face. He cupped your cheek, resting his forehead on yours. "Chérie," he whispered, the French catching you by surprise. "Je t'adore."

You wanted to ask him what he meant, but you had a feeling he wouldn't tell you no matter how hard you tried to get it out of him. So you simply closed your eyes, enjoying his presence, listening to the soft radio static on each breath he took.

#me to me: just write the sexy bits dont go into too much detail #also me: okay but i need to fit the readers whole life story in soooo #sigh im really bad at drabbles #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #this is the last long boy okay #at least for a while #lemon

[aiatiwoyouryrarialv]

“Shut Up”

Words: 1,300

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Categories: M/M

Part 4 of “Indomitable Ferity”

Characters: Brian Thomas, Timothy Wright, Jay Merrick, Alex Kralie

Relationships: Timothy Wright/Brian Thomas, Jay Merrick/Alex Kralie

The week had been a boring one for both of them.

Jay had spent Monday through Friday at work, taking and filling orders, serving customers, putting on fake smiles all day. Some days were worse than others, but working in fast food wasn't exactly his dream job.

Alex had spent his days working at the antique store (which was boring but simple work) and his nights on campus. After all of the events that had occurred after the beginning of his last student film, Alex was more than hesitant to start taking the classes again. However, Jay and Tim had assured him that it would be fine and if they noticed anything strange or if his personality began to shift, they would tell him and he would drop the class and project immediately. The new student film was better than the first had ever been, but it still needed work. Alex had figured out the plot and characters and his group of friends on campus helped him find locations, ones far from the forest. After spending all week working, attending classes, and working out the details of his film, Alex was ready for the weekend.

🎉   🎉   🎉

"Hey! Knock it off," Tim warned as Brian lightly bit his hand, not enough to hurt or break the skin, but it wouldn't be difficult with his sharp canines. Brian, Tim, Jay, and Alex were all gathered in Alex's apartment; it was a Saturday night and the four males had decided to spend time together. It seemed like they never had time to just be together anymore. Jay and Alex were seated on the couch, the television on in the background but none were watching. Brian was seated on the arm of Tim's chair, teasing him like he normally did when he wanted to rile up his significant other.

"No biting," Tim said, pulling his hand away from Brian's grasp.

Brian leaned close to him and in a deep, more than suggestive tone, asked, "So I should wait 'til we're alone?"

Jay's face grew slightly warmer at the implication but Tim simply laughed.

"You wish," he said, lightly slapping Brian's arm, earning a laugh from the other.

"Get a room," Alex said, throwing a small pillow at the two; neither of them budged, simply laughing at Alex's weak attempt to stop them. As Brian continued shamelessly flirting with his boyfriend, Alex tapped Jay's arm and nodded in the direction of the dining room. Neither of their companions noticed the two leave, too busy exchanging flirtatious banter.

As Jay slid the glass door leading to the balcony closed, he watched as Alex walked forward, leaning against the wooden railing and waiting for Jay to join him; he didn't keep Alex waiting long.

"Those two live with me, you know," Jay said for lack of anything better to say. "Them 'getting a room' doesn't mean I won't still be able to hear them."

Alex snorted a laugh as he looked over at Jay who cracked a grin. The two resorted to standing side by side in silence, unsure what to say. From up on the balcony, they had a perfect view of the university's soccer field. Though it was already eight o'clock, the stands were full of spectators and athletes sprinted across the perfect green of the field.

"If you could have one wish granted, what would it be?" Alex suddenly asked, his eyes still locked on the sports game.

"To be with you," Jay blurted out before slapping a hand over his mouth. He hadn't said that. He hadn't openly admitted to liking Alex. No, he had only thought that.

Alex's intense eyes trained on him told him otherwise.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I-I didn't mean that," Jay hurriedly said, panicking at Alex's silence.

"You didn't mean to say it out loud, or you didn't mean it?" Alex inquired, his tone holding a steady indifference.

Jay was silent for a moment before he quietly said, "Out loud."

Alex sighed. "That's a pretty shitty wish."

"Not to me, it's not," Jay mumbled. He was already in too deep to bale out now.

Alex's eyes left his, his head bowing down so he could run his fingers through his hair while keeping his arms propped up on the railing.

"Jay, how can you honestly say that? After all I've done to you, to Tim, to everyone. I shot you, Jay. You almost died because of me. How can you still care about me at all, let alone romantically?" Alex was growing increasingly frustrated, but he didn't seem to be angry. That was a good sign.

Jay tentatively reached out and set his hand on Alex's shoulder. "Because I know that wasn't you. Not completely. You were scared, you thought you were doing what was right, even if it was actually psychotic."

Alex scoffed. "It was me. As much as I loathe myself for it and wish that I could take it back." His tired eyes met Jay's. "I was so scared. I was scared of what was happening, what would happen if I couldn't end it..." He let out a shaky breath. "And then I was scared of losing you."

Jay let his hand drop in favor of resting his arms on the banister, sliding closer until their arms were pressed against each other.

"I'm pretty hard to kill," Jay said, trying to ease Alex's guilty mind.

Alex let out a small chuckle. "Thank God for that."

Unsure what to do next, Jay turned his attention back to the soccer field when he was stopped with a hand on his cheek, making him look directly at Alex. Had they been that close a moment ago? Jay wasn't sure but having Alex in such close proximity was making his face warm.

"It's still a shitty wish," Alex said, suddenly serious, his face inching closer. Their lips brushed as he said, "But I think I can grant it if it's what you really want."

"Yeah," was all Jay said, his mind turned to mush. His eyes were already half closed and his vision was unfocused as his lips lightly touched Alex's. "That's what I want."

"Shut up and kiss me already, Merrick," Alex commanded, refusing to lean any closer. Jay immediately obeyed, leaning in the remaining few centimeters and pressing their lips together. Though Alex's hands were always cold, his lips were surprisingly warm.

Jay hadn't noticed their positions had changed until they finally broke apart to breathe. Alex's hands rested against the railing, Jay trapped between them. Jay's mind briefly wondered what it would be like to be trapped under Alex. Now there was a distracting thought. Jay forced himself to redirect his thoughts as they went in for another kiss, lips gently sliding against each other in nothing but pent up passion, Alex's hands removing themselves from the railing in favor or gripping Jay's hips. It was a soft kiss, mostly lips with only a hint of tongue, and Jay found that he could easily get used to this.

As they pulled away for breath a second time, Alex pressed his cheek against Jay's, panting slightly against his ear as he tried to catch his breath. The warm breath against his ear sent a shiver down Jay's spine, the hair at the back of his neck standing on end. Alex slowly pulled back before leaning his forehead against Jay's.

"I'll never know how you can forgive me." He pressed a soft kiss to Jay's lips. "Or what you see in me." Another gentle kiss. "But I'll be damned if I'm going to let you go now."

Jay's hands slowly ran up Alex's arms before settling on his shoulders, a quirky grin on his face.

"Shut up and kiss me already, Kralie."

#fluff #oneshot #fanfic #marble hornets #timothy wright #brian thomas #brian thomas x timothy wright #alex kralie #jay merrick #alex kralie x jay merrick #jaylex #first kiss #CHAwrites

[womanwhowritesformany]

We’ll Be Alright

Ellie x Original Female Character

summary— When Ellie and Joel arrived in Jackson County years ago, Lars was another teenage girl that Ellie met. The two of them instantly clicked over their shared experience of losing family, knowing how to use a gun and bonded over the nature of Wyoming, drawing and the music they found. As Lars and Ellie grow up side by side their friendship grows stronger, and when they're old enough for patrols, it goes further than friendship... but sometimes things like this is hard to figure out, especially when you barely have experience.

*this one shot can also be found on my A03 account @ womanwhowritesformany

warnings: none + no spoilers. just fluff. friends to lovers

When Ellie and Joel arrived in Jackson County years ago, Lars was another teenage girl that Ellie met. The two of them instantly clicked over their shared experience of losing family, knowing how to use a gun and bonded over the nature of Wyoming, drawing and the music they found. As Lars and Ellie grow up side by side their friendship grows stronger, and when they're old enough for patrols, it goes further than friendship... but sometimes things like this are hard to figure out, especially when you barely have experience. But when a girl named Ellie and her dad Joel (she assumed it was her dad, but later found out that it wasn't actually her dad), Lars immediately showed Ellie the county.

Although the man, Joel, was very protective and followed the two around the whole entire day, not leaving Ellie's side. But as the days and weeks went on, Joel realized Ellie had made a friend. Lars and Ellie were close, doing almost everything together and it gave Joel a reason to smile, despite everything that was going on in his head. “Hi! My name is Lars.” She’d introduce herself, smiling very big, missing a baby tooth or two. “Lars is just my nickname, my real name is Larsa. Please, don’t call me Larsa!” Her eyes were wide.

“I’m Ellie.” She would say, standing with her arms strictly at her side with her posture straight and chest out (like Joel had stood most of the time to push off the impression he was strong).

Ellie felt a bit overwhelmed at Lars’ presence; She was very eccentric, the way she had worn mixed up clothes but somehow made it work, the way her hair was cut short and usually messy, but extremely stylish. Lars may have been awkward with things she would say, or how she stood, but she was always an extrovert, and that worked. But within the hour that they met, Ellie was extremely excited to have a new friend.

For the few years they had become friends, their friendship blossomed into something special. It was like they had known each other since they were young, but in reality, it was just a couple of years. And now, they were finally old enough to go out on patrols together. When the days they weren't out on patrol or going on runs, they were either hanging out like teens normally do with others. But sometimes, almost every night, Lars and Ellie would stay up talking all through the night about anything and everything. They were always both curious, except Ellie was a bit more reserved with her feelings; that’s where her room really showed off who Ellie was. And Lars loved that. Posters, music, books and numerous drawings of Ellie’s and even sketchbooks lying around. And as for Lars, well, she was very energetic and always spoke about the movies she remembers and the movies she would see here in Jackson, Lars was curious about everything, and soon enough, she became curious about love. She saw in the movies all the time a man and woman falling in love, so she wondered if that would ever happen to her.

Lars took the definition of love from the movies she saw and the books she read (the books were from Ellie’s room) and the more she focused on it, the more she applied it to herself and Ellie. And that had suddenly sparked an epiphany on her feelings towards Ellie.

No matter how much Lars constantly spoke and hardly ran out of energy, Ellie liked it. And that’s where Ellie felt curious about feeling something for someone.

Curiosity for them both, was more than just their realization of what they felt for one another. Obviously, they kept it to themselves. But the curiosity for liking each other had reached a small amount of physicality. Their hands would brush against each other whenever they were alone in Ellie’s room, or during a movie at the small theater in Jackson. (They were both completely oblivious to their feelings, but other people weren’t - they picked up on a special bond between them two. Especially Joel. Joel knew something was happening before they did. He knew, and he was happy for Ellie - happy for Lars. He could barely admit to himself, but he was excited to see it blossom).

They were on patrol. Ellie was sitting in a chair with her gun by her side, watching the trees that moved in the distance as the leaves would fall off of the branches. Winter was about to arrive, and they felt it as the air got colder and crisper. Lars stood just a few inches away from Ellie, her back against the wooden wall of a small cabin like home. It was getting darker out, and soon they would leave so another pair could take over for the rest of the night.

"Whatcha thinkin' about over there?" Lars asked, as she observed Ellie's face, the moonlight shining on her making her face glow.

She shrugs in response and tilts her head to look at Lars. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Jesus, Ellie, your face is so scrunched up." She laughs, walking over to sit by her. "You alright?"

"I think so," ellie answers, "just your typical teenage stuff."

"You know I understand all too well! I mean, just last week, Jesse was trying to go on a date with me. A date! Like seriously, where do you go on dates around here? The community's hall where you eat? And besides, Dina and Jesse are good together. I think. They do argue a lot, but then again it's not my problem. Also, Jesse is cute--adorable and all, but he's not my type. At all."

Lars looks over to Ellie, who wears a blank expression as she blinks at Lars. "What?"

"You really ramble a lot." Ellie smiles.

"Oh sorry."

"Lars, when do you ever have to be sorry to me?" She bumps her shoulder into hers. "You're being you, and that's great. You're great."

Lars starts to panic internally, as she takes in Ellie's compliments and her support of her awkwardness. "Oh Ellie, thank you." Her cheeks begin to heat up.

"So, why don't you like Jesse? Besides Dina being in the picture."

"I said he's just not my type." Lars answers, looking away. She begins to think about Ellie, the friendship they shared all these years. How grateful she was to find someone like Ellie, the way she just came into Jackson and in her life out of the blue. The nights they spent together, whether it was up and out here on patrols, or inside her little home with Ellie's drawings and posters and books and sketchbooks everywhere. The way Ellie would look out for her and the way she would look out for Ellie. She felt almost too lucky... and suddenly, Lars is staring at her, without noticing that Ellie is paying attention. She looks at all her freckles that cover her face faintly but still noticeable. She likes her nose, the way it's small and just perfectly fits Ellie's face. The way her eyebrows pull in and her lips scrunching up to the side. Oh.. her lips. Her pouty, adorable lips.

"Can I kiss you?" Lars blurts out, and immediately regrets it as she averts her gaze away from Ellie's and to outside. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Lars." Ellie pulls her shoulder so that she could look at her. "Its okay, really."

"Yeah, good. Just forget it." She nods.

"No, really. It's okay."

Lars is confused, but once Ellie pulls on her arm, she cups her hands on Lars' jaw on both sides and looks into her eyes. "It's alright."

"You don't have to do this for my sake, Ellie. Just forget it." She didn't want sympathy, not now and not ever. From no one, especially Ellie.

Ellie chuckles, then pulls her face in and hovers her lips over Lars'. They face each other, lips centimeters away. Lars' breathing picks up as she panics, gulping away as she's so not ready for her first kiss. But then it happens. She feels the softness of her lips, but such a strong force it was. It was euphoric, Lars swore she was on fire by how heated she got, how the butterflies in her stomach were an infinite amount, just fluttering away with nowhere to go.

It was sorta ironic, a bit funny too, that Ellie was the one to be so energetic with the kiss and not being shy about it. Whereas Lars was the shyest she had ever been. The kiss between the two friends had advanced from a peck, to a full on almost making out, lips fighting each other for dominance. Although Lars wanted to be the one to control it, Ellie wasn’t having it; the way she held Lars almost still as her lips molded onto hers, very rarely giving a bite or two, it had made both the girls let out their own type of moan; Lars’s surprisingly like a wince, and Ellie’s almost like a growl.

Once Ellie pulls away, they sit breathless, eyes still closed. .

“I really want to say what's on my mind right now, but I am so scared.” Lars admits, keeping her eyes shut.

“Hey there, don’t go shy on me now.” Ellie kept her hand on Lars’ cheek as she emphasized the ‘now’. “It’s okay, it’s just me, Lars.”

“Yeah I know,” she scoffs, “that’s what makes me scared.”

Ellie leans in and kisses her jaw, then slowly up to the corners of her mouth and finally reaches her lips, tongue slightly running over her bottom lip. Lars shivers as the gesture. “Whatever you want to say, I guarantee you I won’t run.”

Lars opens her eyes to see Ellie staring at her. She sighs and squeezes Ellie’s thigh. “I think I’ve loved you for some time.”

“Loved?” Ellie teases.

“Ellie…” She sighs as she blushes. “I do..I do love you.”

“I love you too, Lars. Just like you, I think I always have.”

They sit there during the remaining time on patrol, waiting for the others to come relieve them. Side by side, their thighs are squeezed against each other as they keep their hands on their weapons, to be responsible and ready for any clickers, stalkers or even people that come along. Ellie glances over at Lars a few times, just soaking the feeling of how she made her feel, in. This meant something more now, more than just a friendship.

"By the way, what and who the hell is your type?"

Lars shyly smiles, leaning into Ellie's tattooed arm, "You."

“Was it like the movies?”

“What are you talking about Ellie?”

“The kiss. This…” She intertwines her hand with Lars’ and squeezes it. “Was it like the movies you’ve seen.”

“No,” Lars tilts her head up on Ellie’s shoulder and stares. She can see Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed in, and her lips in a pout. “Because when I watched every movie with love or whatever, it just never had someone like you or me. So, I guess I’m trying to say it was better than the movies.”

Lars tilts her head back and lets her lips kiss on the inside of Ellie’s neck, and that’s when she relaxes, finally content with something in her life. “This isn’t going to ruin anything right? Between us.” she asks as she cuddles further into her neck.

“Nah,” she feels Ellie shake her head. “I think we’ll be alright. Yeah, we’ll be alright.”

#TLOU #TLOU2 #the last of us 2 #ellie #ellie williams #ellie x ofc #ellie x original female character #ellie + ofc #original female character #ellie one shot #tlou2 one shot #tlou2 ellie #no spoilers #i promise #friends to lovers #joel #womanwhowritesformany

[spacespazz101]

Train Wreck Meets Dumpster Fire Part 1

Train Leaves the Station

Agent Washington was leaving the mess hall when his coms alerted him that he was needed in the briefing room in 10 minutes. Wash let out a groan, he had 10 minutes to make it to his room on one side of the Mother of Invention and get to the briefing room on the other side. He would have to run. It would the first mission they had given out since Agent Texas had joined and York had been hurt.

 Wash was the last agent to make it to the briefing room. He entered the room with a burst of energy managing to barrel into Agent Texas in the process. “That hurt-OW!” Wash hadn’t even been down for thirty seconds before he was being hoisted up by North who immediately began to berate him for his recklessness. He caught sight of Agent Texas as she stood up. Although she was wearing her helmet, she seemed to be looking at him through her visor.

 “C’mon Rookie, the Director and Counselor are on their way!” South whispered to him as they all moved to stand at attention in a line. They heard the two coming before the door opened, that by itself was out of the ordinary but by the time they were standing outside the door they could hear the entire conversation.

 The Director and Counselor were arguing! Or as close to arguing the Counselor ever got. “-we don’t know if it was just a malfunction with communications, there have been reports of solar storms in that region. That could have caused a loss of communications.”

“Counsellor, my mind is made up they have missed three check-ins I am sending the team.”

  The Director ended the conversation by entering the door. He turned towards the gathered Freelancers, all doing their best not to look like they had been eavesdropping. Without a word of greeting the Director started the briefing, “Last week we lost contact with a satellite training facility. All communications have been shut down and we have yet to re-establish communication. You will be investigating this base to see what is going on.”

  “What’s housed inside the satellite base sir?” Carolina questioned. Her entire body was tense.

“The counselor has taken up a pet project, called Bravo team. They are a mix of SIM soldiers and retired UNSC troops. They aren’t at a level everyone here maintains which is why they have never been on the Mother of Invention but they are skilled enough that they served as beta testers for some of the more dangerous enhancements and have some intelligence on our operations. Which is why it is imperative that what they know not fall into the hands of the Insurgence.” The Director answered his tone clipped as he pulled up a hologram of a standard SIM boxed canyon.

 “Your mission will be to go to their outpost and find out what happened to them. If there are any survivors bring them back. We do not have any blueprints of the satellite base beyond the standard SIM bases. Since you will be going in blind the entire team will be going to ensure maximum success. That will include Agent Texas.” The Director paused to look at the entire group. No one spoke, not daring to be the one to anger the tightly wound Director.

“Carolina you will be leading this mission, Agent Texas will be your second in command.” That got a response. Carolina began to object. “But sir-” “But nothing Agent Carolina. The accident was not Texas’ fault and with Agent York still in the Medbay healing from Agent Maine’s grenade you are down a man already. Besides the experience will do her some good for when the time comes for her to lead her own team.” The Director cut off Carolina sharply before he began to go over the base’s layout and defenses.

 Everyone looked away from Carolina to pay closer attention to the Director’s briefing. But Wash kept looking at Texas. Although he couldn’t see her hurt expression through her visor, he couldn’t help but feel for her. He had been the unwanted rookie before she had joined up. But he had managed to go past that when York and North had taken pity on the confused newbie. Texas hadn’t had that chance. Since she had been introduced to the Mother of Invention she had been avoided like the plague. Whispers and rumors had prevented others from approaching her unless strictly necessary. Even other freelancers had approached her with caution. Only working with her for training when necessary. Otherwise she sat alone during lessons, ate in her room alone, and trained alone.

 “Agent Washington will provide any support that Agent York may have provided…” Wash jerked bask to the briefing hearing his name. He resolved to approach Agent Texas before this whole thing started. It was the least he could do.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_TRAIN_WRECK_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

 The Briefing couldn’t have been over soon enough. It was bad enough that the Director hadn’t spoken to her before he informed the team of adding Texas to the roster, but she had to lose control in the middle of the meeting over it. Texas had left immediately, rushing to catch the Counselor before he left.

“Wait! You forgot your commlink!” Wash called after her, holding the com unit she had lost in their collision at the beginning of the meeting.

“Forget about it. I’ll get it to her tomorrow when we leave.” Carolina growled, snatching the device from his hand and walking out before he could protest. She could meet with York and tell him that he wouldn’t get any company for a while.

 As she walked towards the Medbay Carolina examined Texas’ stolen commlink. She had a different com unit than everyone else. Of course she did. She was a special case. Carolina made it to the Medbay before she could investigate what made Texas’ commlink so special.

 Taking a breath to center herself. Carolina put all thoughts of Texas and the Director to the side. She needed to focus on not stressing York out. Or it would hinder his recovery. Carolina took off her helmet and opened the door. Carolina tried to put something resembling a smile on her face only to freeze.

 York wasn’t in his bed.

 Carolina was about to call a search party when she heard a voice behind her. “Wow isn’t this a nice surprise. I was hoping to surprise you with my recovery in your room, but I guess you beat me to it.” York’s voice coming from behind her had Carolina relax minutely.

 “You’re ok.” She scolded herself for sounding so relieved, but York had been touch-and-go for a while. “Yea, I should be released in a few hours. So, I should be ok enough to join you on the mission tomorrow.” He was right behind her now. She would only have to lean back an inch and they would be touching. Carolina still hadn’t turned towards him. She couldn’t show emotion right now. She needed to be the best and the best didn’t get emotional.

 “Are you sure you are alright to go on this?” That was a good, professional subject. No way to drift into more personal waters. “I wouldn’t push it, I’m ok.” He repeated. Not crossing the few centimeters needed to make contact that both of them craved. “But I will be well enough for a recon mission.” York kept the discussion professional, never straying into topics she didn’t want to go into. Carolina was thankful for that.

 They spent maybe an hour just like that. Not touching, not looking at each other, only talking only about the upcoming mission. Finally, a medic came in to discharge York. They gave him one more look over and told him he was ready to return to normal activity as long as he didn’t push himself too hard.

 They went their separate ways after that. York to get the green light from the Director and her to get ready for the mission in the morning.

 The night passed uneventfully York had messaged before she had fallen asleep. her the Director had no problem about letting him on the mission.  

 As Carolina was getting ready for the mission in her room when she heard a beeping coming from a commlink. Scrambling for her own commlink Carolina realized it wasn’t coming from her com.

 Carolina still had Texas’ commlink and it was unlocked.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_MEETS_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

 The plane was prepped and ready for the mission. They were supposed to leave in ten minutes.

 So where was Texas?

CT, South, and North were standing on the ramp. They were trying to talk a surprisingly stubborn Agent Washington out of something in their own unique ways. Whatever it was he wanted to do must be a bad idea because South kept repeating “rip your arms out of their sockets” as CT and North tried to get him to forget about his plan. Wyoming and Florida had been strapping in for the ride but had traveled to the top of the ramp to see what all the noise was about.

 “Sorry I’m late but I was trying to talk an idiot out of doing something stupid.” Agent Texas’ voice cut through the squabbling. There was a grunt of agreement from Maine as steps signaled that their wayward teammates had joined them. “Hey! I am ok enough to be on this mission I was discharged, and the Director gave his stamp of approval.” York’s voice protested.

 “Are you sure that you should be up?” Wash had apparently abandoned arguing with the others and had moved to stand beside York, as if afraid that he would collapse with the slightest breeze.

 “Yea, I’m doing ok. I should be good enough for a recon mission. Beside I can’t leave the Rookie to fuck up when I’m available.” York’s voice was light and teasing but Carolina took a moment to back up and look at Texas’ commlink again.

 She hadn’t had much time to investigate but she had found a massive amount of saved messages dating back to about a week after she went aboard the Mother of Invention up to the time that the satellite went off grid. If she had more time, she could have listened to some of the messages and get rid of her listening. But as it stood, she couldn’t risk letting Texas know that she was on to her. The entire thing was suspicious, and Carolina resolved to meet with the Director and Counselor after the whole thing was over to ensure that Texas was watched. Because Carolina probably found their mole.

 Carolina couldn’t help but smile under her helmet as everyone moved to join her. That was probably why the Director had made Texas the second in command. So that Carolina could keep a close eye on the potential mole.

 Afterall on an easy mission like this. What could go wrong?

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_DUMPSTER_FIRE_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

#Red vs Blue #Agent Texas #agent washington #agent carolina #agent york

[lillaxtrigger]

Young hope: Chapter 19 (Pt3)

Tumbling down the hidden tunnel, the blue psychic plummet through the darkness; her newly acquired blade clanging along the stone as it follows. Her rough roll down proves far too distracting to stop herself or her weapon from rolling downwards, the constant clanging of her blade not exactly helping her focus. The only thought that manages to creep into her mind during her fall is a hope that her newfound treasure doesn’t find its way into her flesh on the way down.

Finally, she knows the site of light once more, her rump landing upon cold hard floor. She manages to bring herself back from her daze just in time for her blade to plunge into the stone before her, swiftly backing herself up against the wall. Once her shock dies down, she notices the dim light that illuminates her site belonging to a set of torches lined along the sides. The torches reveal Priss to be within a torture chamber; several tormenting devices decorating the dungeon. Racks, pullers, iron maidens, all the classics were accounted for; even some that she’s doesn’t recognize have shown to be devilishly exotic. Some as expected share the scent of rustic metal and blood along their metal and wood, while others seem to look rather new, sporting polish and sheen across their sharp surfaces. Surely, such a chilling site for one to behold, especially in contrast to the graceful and elegant halls above. Even the homicidal garden the blue psychic stood in not moments ago served as a better backdrop...you know, when it wasn’t attempting turn her into mulch.

On the left of the faintly lit room stood a case of stone stairs; the ascending steps likely being the exit out from this deathly hallow. Unfortunately, what stands in her way from escaping this harrowing chamber was a set of metal bars. A closer inspection of the iron entrapping her revealed to be free from corrosion and age. One could be hard pressed to think that they were installed just the day before. Wonder if they can be bent?

Approaching the bars of her cage, Priss begins to focus her telekinesis upon the thick metal before her. Her eyes squinting on the iron, the thick poles start to vibrate. Centimeter by centimeter, the bars pull away from one another; the psychic gritting her teeth in her efforts. But soon, the strain of her telekinetic endeavors proves to be too much for her brain to take and contracts a migraine. Rubbing her temples, the small medium attempts to ease the aftermath of her psychic efforts. She looks on to the fruits of her telekinetic struggles, finding the thick metal bars to have bent only a little ways; nowhere near enough to reliably squeeze her way through.

Dammit. At this rate, it’d take all night to escape from this selectively clean torture chamber. If her brothers were by her side, they make this daunting task seem rather elementary. They’d no doubt make quick work of this prison, twisting them into simple knots a 6 year old boy scout could do. Although Savage would probably get all artsy while doing it, making the metal bars into giraffe or something. Carnage would then laugh and comment on how stupid it’d look, prompting Savage to sock him in the face. That’d be the psychics queue to try and break up their fight before they wind up breaking something. Just the same old 3 act structure, day in and day out. Well you know what, that whole circus routine is getting moldy and dry anyway. It’s time for Priss to put on a new show for once. She don’t need those two walking disasters to make it out of this crap shoot. Hell, she could probably carry out the rest of the mission on her own just as efficiently, maybe even more so without having those two lumbering jackasses dragging her down all night. First things first though, need to figure a way out of this selectively clean hovel.

Gauging past the bars of her cell, the psychic fails to find another soul in site. Shame. If a guard was nearby, she could probably jack their mind and get them to unlock the cell door. No worries though. Surely it can’t be that hard to find another way out of her prison with some brains and a little creativity.

Most of the torture devices laying around look far too frail and lite to make any leeway against her cages thick bars. Though the spike filled coffin on the far end looks sturdy enough to do some damage. One slight problem though: The iron maiden proves too heavy for Priss’s telekinetic grasp to lift. Might be able to get it off the ground if it were closer though. Question of the night is how to push it’s metal hide in her direction?

To that end, the blue psychic takes a more thorough examination of the devices scattered about the dungeon. In her inspection, she begins to take not of each contraptions placement and starts to formulate how they could be used in conjunction. Might be able to knock over the rack and get it to topple over that wheel next to it. If it manages to roll in the right direction, it could knock down the line of stocks and pillories and set off the guillotine. The blade sudden slam might knock over the iron shackles set at the top. The heavy cuffs will then knock down the rack of tools hanging along the wall and throw the hammer set at the opposite flying The hammer will then soar up to the person shaped cage hanging just below the iron maiden. The cage will crash down upon the metal coffin and send it just far enough for Priss to lift it. Just like that family friendly board games with the Rube Goldberg setup, just replace the pieces with blood soaked torture devices. What’s it called again?...Ah, who cares? Now how to get this nightmare show on the road?

It isn’t gonna work.

Her train of thought is broken by an ominously smooth voice echoes; the psychic looks around and wonders where the doubtful comment originated. She could have sworn she was the only one down here. Is there someone else watching her?

Your brothers are gone.

Where is it coming from? Upstairs? In the maiden? A hidden speaker? Where?

You’re all going to die here.

Its then, does the psychic realize where the taunting proclamation are emanating from. It’s all just in her head. That same demented voice that has haunted her all these years.

It’ll be all your fault.

Just ignore it, Priss. Don’t bother responding and he’ll go away.

You’ll know I’ll never leave.

As she begins to tune out the contemptuous voice echoing in her very consciousness, she glances her back to take in the view of her blade. Grasping its handle, she pulls the sword from the stone; its end having maintained its sharp point. Quite the surprisingly durable piece of weaponry, especially the tumble it went through moments ago. Surely, such a well built blade such as hers would serve as the perfect trigger for her plan to start.

That in mind, she tosses her instrument upwards, halting the blades descent with her telekinesis. She aims its lethal tip towards the face of the rack, waiting until her aim is exactly right. Once her aim proved true, she launches her sword towards the wooden torture device. The blade plunges itself into the face of the rack with enough force to topple it into the neighboring wheel. The both devices break upon impact, the wheel part rolling towards the row of stocks and pillories. The wooden frames topple over like a domino set into the side of the guillotine. Smacking of the execution devices frame makes its blade drop down; the combined impact shakes the iron shackles off the top of the guillotine. She manages to harness her telekinesis to guide the descending cuffs upon the wooden rack of tools. The sudden weight shift throws the hammers on the far end high into the air, the steel mallet careening its way towards the human shaped cage dangling above. Striking the fragile base of the chains, the impact frees the cage from the ceiling and sends it dropping down towards the iron maiden. At long last, the metal coffin is struck, falling upon the stone cold floor and closer towards Priss’s prison. Alas, the maiden fails to travel far, approaching only a few meager feet to the psychic.

Her face soon deflates, witnessing what little her calculations have wrought. Are you kidding? All that planning and setup just to get that oversized spike box to move slightly closer? That whole time causing that Heath Robinson horseshit to play out and it only moves a couple feet! God dammit! No. No. Just calm down. There might still be a way to salvage this. Just think for a second.

The blue psychic looks beyond her cell and attempts to judge the measly distance the torture device had traveled. She realized that the iron maiden had tumbled enough of a distance for her telekinesis to reach, though not enough to outright lift. It might be possible to drag it all the way to her cage and work from there, although she dreads the horrible headache that could result after which. But at this point, what other option is there for the psychic to take. Best just get this over with.

Focusing her site upon the iron maiden, Priss cast her telekinetic powers upon the spike filled casket. Slowly, the torture devices is dragged across the stone floor with loud scraping shrieks that echo through her chamber. Inches by inches, she edges the metal coffin towards her prison, the psychic feeling the approaching drawback of her efforts. Although the rising headache starts to take its toll, Priss carries on; the metal coffin soon near the bars of her cell. Her migraine readying to hit its peak, the blue psychic gets to work in elevating the coffin from the cold stone.

Levitating in the air, she casts the heavy iron casket upon the thick bars of her jail. The hefty impact manages to bend the bars of the cage, but not enough for the Priss to slip through. Need to slam the maiden into it a couple more times before she can escape. This is gonna bring on one hell of a headache.

Once more, she causes the torture device to collide upon the steel of her cage, the bars warping further inward with the powerful bang. The casket isn’t the only thing that pounds however, as the small medium feels the agonizing withdraw that her endeavors bring. One more strike to her prison and she’ll be free. Just gotta ignore the overwhelming pain.

Backing the iron maiden as far as she can take it, she readies to finally smite her cage; the mental strain surging through her head. After letting a deep breath pass through her lunges, she casts the torture device upon her imprisonment one final time. The overwhelming crash not only bends most of the bars, but manages to break some off their flat. Not a single doubt was left standing, nothing could stop Priss from squeezing through. All except for the horribly torturous migraine that the daunting breakout had afflicted her with.

Surges of terrible pain coursed throughout her tiny figure, the psychic grasping her head as the hellacious sensation overwhelms her. In her agony, her hand delves down into the depths of her coat and from one of its pockets, pulls out a little white bottle. Quickly pulling the cap off, she dumps out a couple capsules into her grasp. Wishing to end her mental anguish, Priss pops the pills into her mouth and quickly swallows. While the Aspirin starts works its medical magic, the psychic attempts to quell her raging migraine, rubbing the temples of her head. Its in this moment that the sound of footsteps reach her ears; a glance towards the stone stairs revealed a shadow quickly descending. No time for her headache to go down. Need to act fast.

Descending down into the torture chamber, a woman cloaked in a black hooded garb emerges from the steps. Upon her shoulders rested a miniature doll, large head resembling that of a mask. Before her laid the remains of the torture devices that once decorated the dungeon; wooden planks and metal pieces scattered across the stone floor. To her right stood the cell block, its recently installed bars having been bent and broken beyond repair; the iron maiden lying in front of the busted cage. The keeper ponders what might have torn its way to this chamber, or what might have driven them to make such a mess. Last time she checked, this chamber wasn’t occupied. So just what the hell happened in here?

In her wonder, her perched familiar takes a glance behind it and its master back, something catching its attention makes its eyes widen. As it begins to cry out an alarming shriek, the tip of a sword pierces through its body. The blade drives itself into the stone floor set before the keeper, her doll stuck dead on its cold steel. “Bottles! No!” Furious of her familiars sudden demise, the keeper turns to whatever sorry son of a bitch snuffed out the light of her beloved pet. To that end, she comes literally face to face with the caster herself, the blue floating dwarf grasping at the sides of the keepers head and forcing their foreheads to touch.

Even with her pounding headache, the psychic is able to breach into the keepers consciousness with ease. Quickly, she searches through the depths of her psyche for any signs of the library or the book of Garlov. All she manages to pry through however were worthless memories and a chunk of the castles layout. The map of the stronghold she manages to salvage covered about half of the castle, but not enough to deduce where the library might be.

With that, Priss comes back to reality, the dungeon keeper before her dazed from the sudden mental intrusion. The blue psychic quickly takes advantage of her foes fatigue and opens the iron maiden set behind her. With a telekinetic push, she casts the keeper into the awaiting arms of the torture device, closing the doors as soon as her foe was in its spike filled arms.

Free from her prison and its keeper having been dealt with, she ascends the staircase as she lets out a sigh and pinches the middle of her face. Sure hope those aspirins kick in soon.

Racing through the elegant halls of the Höllenfeuer castle, both Savage and Carnage tear through whatever stood in their path. “I’m telling ya. It’s your fault she wound up getting blitzed in the back by a bunch of weeds.” the green brother blames. “How the hell is it my fault? You were just as caught off guard as I was.” the red one counters. Standing in their path be a sentient grandfather clock, its hands serving as its eyes and golden pendulum serving as a tongue. Swiftly, Carnage tears through the living piece of furniture, neither of the brother paying any mind as they continue uninterrupted. “It’s that stupid sash you always wear on your eye. Sis would probably still be here if you didn’t have it on.” “We could’ve figured out where Priss wound up if you didn’t straight up kill the gardener. Could’ve tortured him for answers.” Jumping in front of them stood an octopus with an oversized cranium spouting long division; Savage burning the demon into fried calamari with his red hot ray as they run past. “Like that green thumbed bitch would’ve squealed. Probably try and pull another sneak attack out of his sorry ass the first chance he’d get.” In the middle of the hall, a tuxedo dressed skeleton holds a fine dish in its hands; on its plate be a cooked ham. “Would you two care to try my glazed ham?” Without a moment of hesitance between the two, both brother just pummel its bones into nothing bits and dust. As they rush past, Carnage quickly grabs hold of the ham among the boney butlers remains. “Besides… The green demon takes a swift bite of his prize before continuing his though. “We don’t need her anyway.” “Hold up!”

The duo come to a grinding halt upon the middle of an intersecting hall, Carnage continuing to chew through the ham in his claw. “What the hell are you talking about?” Savage questions. “I’m saying we blaze through this mission ourselves. All we gotta do is get some damn book. How hard can that be?” “So your saying we should just leave Priss to rot wherever she wound up?” “I ain’t saying we bail on her. Just nab the book, then go get her. Show her that we don’t need her bitchy blue butt to beat missions. “But, why?” “Cause how can you not be tired of all her crap? The way she just has her foot on our asses all day? Just nagging at us all the damn time, like: “Savage, don’t flush live rats down the toilet, that’s how the pipes get clogged.” or “Carnage, you can’t keep smashing fluorescent bulbs against your head, it’ll give you brain cancer.” I’m like:“Bitch, I’m trying to have some fun here.” Aren’t you just sick of all that.” Carnage questions his brother. “I mean, kind of. But-” “So, if we nab this book before she can, she ain’t gonna say shit about us no more. Finally, the bros will be on top for once.” “I-I don’t know. What if Priss runs into some kind of trouble? She basically like a squishy blue ball of spite without us guard’n her.” “Sis’ll be fine. She’s supposed to be brains after all. She’ll think her way outta shit. We got brawn on our side. Ain’t nothing gonna stop this double decker freight train. What do ya say?” Looking away from his green garbed sibling, all that Savage could give as a response was a doubtful groan. “Whatever, man. You do you. I’m gonna go find that damn book.”

Upon those words does Carnage begin to walk down one of the halls, finishing the last of his ham. Watching his brother depart, the red demon wonders what actions he should take. Who knows how long Priss may last in this labyrinth of sweet looking décor and tightly designed paintings. Then again, who knows what kind of twisted trouble Carnage might get himself into. Dammit, why does life gotta have choices like this?

Finding the green demon to be nearly out of site, Savage lets out a growl as he decides to put his bets on Carnage. It’s better that they don’t split up any further than they already have. Haste in his step, Savage hurries down the hall towards the direction of his brother. “Hang on a minute!”

In his rush, Savage manages to spot Carnage having stopped along the hall. The red demon soon catches up to his brother in green and finds him staring at something. “Hey, just what the hell are you staring...” Gazing in the direction himself, both brother behold a massive, dimly lit lab decorated in metal. Countless prongs, antenna and springs stick out from the walls and ceiling, dozens of twisted metallic machines litter the floor of the lab. “What is this?” the red demon wonder. “Don’t know. But it looks fucking cool.” Carnage himself responds as starts to walk inside. Following his brother inside, Savage looks upon the reflective surface of the metal machines; the weirdly shaped devices cast a warped image of his figure back at him.

A fair ways into the shadows of the lab, he finds his green brother messing with an exposed spring. Pulling the winding metal back, Carnage watches as the spring bounces around with bits of giggling escaping from his mouth. The green demon pulls his attention away from the spring once he hears his brother question. “So about this plan.” “Yee?” “Do you even know where the hell we are, or where this book might be at?” “Don’t have to. Priss said it might be in a library, right? So we just smash our way through this castle til we find one. Easy as that.” “Dude, no. Come on. Ya gotta have something better to work off of then that. You can’t just work on a blank canvas and draw random lines, just expecting something to pop out. Ya need a base to work with. Something for your plan to take off.” “Alright then, smartass. What’s your big plan?”

Before a single word could leave the red demons lips, a sky blue glow to their side shines for a split moment. Both brother turn their gaze to find a single antenna, the ball at its top blinking a bright blue spark. The light reflects through out the entire lab, rapidly blinking faster as the balls luminosity grows. Soon, the antenna bursts out an ascending stream of electricity, the bolt swiftly traveling through the entirety of the metal lab. From plugs to springs, from antenna to prongs, the demon brothers trail the stream of power with their naked eyes Savage and Carnage ready themselves as the bolt soon crashes upon the ground before them.

The formless energy before them began to take shape, thinning itself into a straight line. At the top point of its form sprouted a sphere; two white circles opening upon the front and a wide mouth at the bottom. Alas, the monster before them reveals its true shape: a thin electrical demon; its body as slim as string. From the depths of its mouth, the beast lets out a rather peculiar cry. One that the brothers thought sounded a lot like...yodeling? Even more of an unusual phenomenon being the monsters jiggling body in rhythm to its own song. Kind of like one of those dancing wavy lines you find in music video, you know the ones that wiggle around whenever the bass is dropped. Such an unusual creature dancing before them takes the duo aback, their guard lowering upon the bizarre site.

In that moment, the electrical string before them lunges forth, dashing towards them at breakneck speeds. Their lightning like foe on the approach, Carnage takes the front and readies to swing. Though his claw manages to make contact, the narrow nemesis simply passes through the green demons entire body cleanly like a specter. Permeating through Carnage, the wire like beast forces a wave of shocking volts through his entire body; the green demons screams echoing through the metal lab. Savages eyes trailing the yodeling string, he witnesses it phase into one of the springs in its retreat; its sparks going into the metal machine attached to it as its singing dies down The red demon then looks back to his brother, down on his knees as the volts coursing through him dissipate. “Carnage?” As the green giant rises, a rough breath escapes from his lungs, alongside his confirmation that: “I’m fine.” “What the hell was that?” “It’s gonna be fucking dead once I get my claws on it.”

Bouncing across the metal lab, the sound of the beasts thunderous singing reaches the demonic duos ears. The two stand back to back, ready for whenever the shocking lank freak is ready to pop out next. “Hey Carnage.” “Huh?” “You remember what Priss said about these kinds of monsters not being far from their asshole masters?” “Yeah, why?” “I was thinking that this bitch might be cowering in a corner somewhere around here. If we bust’em out of wherever he’s held up, we can beat them for directions to the library.” “Hey, not a bad idea there. Glad to see you coming on board.” “I’m just wanting to get this over with so we can find Priss.”

Out from one of the many metal prongs, the stringy energy demon shoots out towards the brothers; its incessant yodeling giving them a pretty clear warning. The duo jump out of the singing strings path, its lite blue glow shining upon them as it flies by. Skidding across the floor, Savage finds the electric bugger diving into a loose plug. The red demon manages to track the demonic lightning running through set of surrounding machines. Out from one of its antennas, the energy beast bursts out, lunging towards the red giant. Hoping to end its hasty yodeling dash, Savage fires from his eyes a red hot ray. The fiery beam does manage to hit the electrical monster, although it does very little in slowing its approach. Singing a high note, the energy wires its way through the red demon, delivering quite the painful shock. Out from his back the monster zooms out, retreating into a close by string. “Savage!” “I’m fine. Just get to smashing.” Upon his brothers order does Carnage begin to tear through the metal and machines nearby, reducing them to simple scrap. Savage begins to do the same, determined to uncover the son of a bitch controlling this annoying piece of freaky string.

Breaking an antenna off one of the machines, Carnage lobs the heavy metal into the screen, breaking it with a shattering spark. Out from the destroyed machine burst out the singing silly string, lunging towards the green demon. The green garbed giant proves ready for its lunge and rolls out of the electric lines way, its body nearly grazing his skin. Dodging the shock by mere inches, he finds his lightning like friends to have escaped through a power plug on one of the neighboring devices. Hoping to quickly catch the line of energy, Carnage smashes open the metal device; but finds no trace of his electrically charged foe. Even with the strings swift leave, the green demon decides to tear apart the rest of it, just be on the safe side.

Descending down, the red demon crashes his body upon the steel surface of a machine, bits of metal scattering on impact. Kinda looked like a device meant to mashed mashed potatos, but it doesn’t really matter anymore; now its mashed itself. Once finished making that miracle of occult science into nothing but shreds of steel, Savage swiftly charges towards the next machine in his site. With a powerful charge, he manages to punch his whole arm through its thick metal shell in one fell swoop. Like shoving your whole arm into a block of jello; that’s how easy it was for him. Unfortunately, it doesn’t prove to be as deliciously friendly as such, cause from the device, the red demon felt a powerful shock course through his body. Quickly withdrawing his limb from its inside, Savage finds the internal components to be glowing a familiar blue light. Realizing what was about to pop out, he steps to the side before the electrically charged freak springs out from the device, feeling the monsters sparks as it zips past. Watching as the lanky lightning bugger phases into a nearby metal spring, he attempt to halt its escape. With a red hot ray, Savage melts the machine the spring was connected to, hoping to stop its yodeling spree once and for all. His ambush however ends in failure, as the beast simply passes through the slag without trouble. Savage witnessing the blue singing strings escape, Savage strikes the floor before going back to smashing.

Grasping onto one of the larger computers with both arms, Carnage uproots the device like an oversized cabbage, its wires snapping from the floor like roots. Once above his head, the green demon chucks the massive machine into its unlucky neighbors, the tosses terminating a row of miscellaneous machinery. Lets see that overly glorified glow sticks master live through all that. But seemingly just to dash his hopes, his energy based foe pops out from one of the broken computers. From the machine, the string of lightning jumps from one destroyed prong, to a beaten in spring. Watching as his wirey foe jumps from scrap to scrap on approach, Carnage kicks a nearby prong in hopes of slowing it down. The electrical line soon collides with the thrown plug, buying the green demon enough time to evade. Not wasting a single moment, he rolls to the side to evade the powerfully charged string, Carnage hearing its tone deaf yodels as it passes. His dodgy effort prove to be in vain however, as the wayward lightning line bounces off a piece of wrecked device and charges back at Carnage. The hyperactive flow of electric sends the green demon a nasty shock, the sound of its obnoxious singing ringing in his ears. As Carnage quickly recovers from his electrical agony, he looks over as the stringy demon flees with a mocking yodel. Not really sure what more painful, honestly. The demons agonizing shocks, or its ear piercing song. Either way, Carnage is close to his spiteful limits.

In the midst of his wrecking spree, Savage manages to spot the electrical singer incoming and hides behind a sizable computer in hopes of getting the drop on the slippery shocking string. Since nothing else seems to be working, might as well try and get the drop on it. The sound of its endless yodels giving the red demon a good indication of how close the shocking piece of string is, he prepares to strike the moment the singing reaches its peek. Louder and louder its voice becomes, sweat dripping down Savages face as he anticipate when to strike. Gotta time this just right. Too late and the lank lightning bug will escape to continue its endless song of yodels and howls. Too soon however and Savage be served another fresh helping of volt casserole shoved down his wind pipe.

Finally, the electric strings voice emanates from just inches away, the red clawed demon takes the gambit and pounces. His bet proves to be on the money and the electrical silly string is right in red clawed grasp. Though his claws clasp the lightning lines thin figure, Savage fails to hold onto his agile adversary; instead feeling the sharp stings of its shocking body as it slips on through. Dammit! Can’t even touch this thing without getting a shit ton of electric shoved into you!

Though most of the metal lab is reduced to scraps and slag, the lightning like line continues to fly and frolic through with a song in its heart and a figure as thin as paper. Both brothers manage to come together, standing back to back as the flying string taunts them with its howls. “So, got any more bright idea’s?” Carnage asks his brother. “We gotta bail.” “What!?” “We can’t touch this skinny string of shit without taking a fistful of electric up our asses. If we can’t find the bastard controlling it soon, we’ll wind up being served with a side of melted butter and some coleslaw. We need to book it to the exit.” Savage explains. “Dude, fuck that.” “What!?” “I ain’t about to run out of a fight like a little bitch. Seafood or no seafood, I’m standing my ground.” “Dammit, Carnage!”

Witnessing the noodle of electrical doom on the approach, Savage grabs hold of his stubborn brothers arms and makes a run for the exit. Though Carnage struggles in his grasp, Savage manages to race through the remains of the metal lab, the demon of lightning pursuing the duo in its yodeling outcry. “Let go of me! Dammit!” Along his darting escape, the red demon manages to spot the entrance they came in and hope the lack of metal and steel will slow their bright pursuer. Both run out of the shadows of the lab and into bright lights of the elegant halls, the electrical singing silly string hot on their trail.

Peeking from behind a hallway door, the blonde head of the blue psychic inches out, her navy eyes dart towards the corridors opposing directions; cautious of a single soul traversing through. Stealth isn’t typically a cup of tea she fancies a sip of, though without the unmatched brawn of her brothers by her side, what other option does she have for strategic drinks? Sound like a cup of coffee Alisha would prefer, honestly. No doubt that those two would partake in a much more energizing beverage of blindly mowing down whatever pour soul stood in their path. Even with her blade, it’s a moronic excuse for a scheme that Priss cannot afford to swallow. Rather barbaric flavor, honestly. Once she confirms the halls to be free of any unwanted passerbys, she exits from the basement door and floats down the corridor.

Floating above the velvet carpet, she finds it best to take her time in this venture through these elegantly decorated halls. Never really can predict when a wayward upstart could appear; whether from one of the doors upon the side, or from a passing intersection. Speaking of which, the sound of a doors creak soon reaches her ears, the blue psychic acting fast upon its opening.

Out from the door walks out a robed figure, in his mouth be a single party horn that they don’t hesitate to sound off. In his celebration, he fails to realize the little blue intruder sticking herself to the ceiling of the hall. She could jack their mind and extract some info out from them, but it’s really a gamble at this point how much they know. Not to mention the risk of getting exposed afterward; if not by the hooded passerby, then possibly from nearby ears hearing his dying screams.

Once out of site, she lowers herself back down, a thought popping into her head. It might be in her best interest to not take things to quickly through the halls of this cultish castle; best as to not get spotted as defenseless as she is. Might sweep past a couple eyes, but eventually, she’ll slam into some unlucky bastard and thing’ll get pretty ugly from there. And Satan knows Priss don’t do ugly.

Slowly along, the walls sporting décor of wood and metal manage to catch her eye, their odd and bizarre shapes drawing her attention Some lean more on weaponization, others bend to more simplistic endeavors, and then there are those that take a more artistic approach. Savage would probably admire some of the bizarre shapes they make, while Carnage would stare in awe at the weapons. Eventually, the two would start fighting, guessing with the metal pieces they like and Priss would have to split them up and resolve things before the hall wound up with more holes than metal décor. Not today. This blue beauty is gonna do things her way. Although some of these crafts look nice, they pale in comparison to her recently acquired prize.

In her venture along the corridor of metal and velvet, she passes through a three way intersection. As she floats through the hall, she catches the glimpse of a hooded figure on the side. Upon this unexpected discovery does she zip to the corner to avoid detection. Peeking out from behind, she’s able to take a much better look to her wayward foe. Staring upon the reflective surface of one of the decorations be a hooded woman with a blindfold covering her eye site. Though what stands out the most to the blue psychic be the massive demonic eye floating overhead, its pupil staring down upon the very piece the woman hypothetically gazes upon. No doubt an important figure among this cast of cultist, one that likely understands the layout of this castle better than that dungeon keeper. If her migraine weren't just now beginning to die down, her mind control would be perfect for this. Gonna need to invest in better painkiller once this mission is over. Lesson learned, don’t cheap out on your meds. For now though, she’ll have use her head to strategizing instead. The question being how exactly to get close enough to peer into the cultist head without its huge peeper noticing. Perhaps borrowing another page from Alisha’s handbook might be the best course of action. But which page to rip out? During this thought, Priss eyes wonder towards the décor lining the corridors walls.

The blindfolded cultist has her eyes stare upon one of the metal art pieces hung on the wall, their surface reflecting their twisted image back. And thought the cultists original eyes have long since failed her, her ears on the other hand still work as good as new, as they catch the sharp clang of dropping metal nearby. The eye above her shifts its gaze down the dual intersection, its master turning in the same direction moments later. Both demon and master stroll down the corridor and turn the corner, the cultist’s eye glancing down to find one of the metal decorations to have fallen from the wall. Picking the steel art piece from the velvet carpeting, holding the metal up to her demonic eye. Don’t looked to be damaged in anyway. No dents or rust. A glance above showed the spot where the art piece fell from; above two or three sizable wooden crafts. Her eye’s unmatched vision let it see the nails that kept the décor in place, still pinned straight to the wall the day it was hammered in. Wonder what made it fall off? Some sicko on the other side banging their head against the wall? The answer may never come.

But little does the cultist realizes that her answer was closer than she realized, lowering herself from the ceiling. The blue psychic cautiously approaches her eye taming prey from behind, floating ever so carefully so as to not let a single breeze catch her attention. Simply making one of the metal decorations fall to the floor to grab the cultist attention ain't exactly the most complex plan that Priss has thought off. But some say that there’s beauty to be had in simplicity, so maybe Occam's razor might not be so dull after all. Just gotta touch her foreheads near this freaky demon tamer’s and things might be smooth sailing from there. Unfortunately, her little plan takes a horribly drastic turn as when right on her back, the eye above quickly turns; staring down upon the small medium with its shrinking pink pupil. That very same pupil begins to emit a bright pink glow; an obvious hint for the psychic to flee.

Jumping out from its view, Priss finds the eye firing a bright pink beaming down upon the velvet carpeting. Upon the rays impact does it transform the elegant carpets rugged texture into something far more colorful and shiny; sporting colors of swirling bright red and lime green. Missing its intended target, the eye gazes in the psychics direction and fires a barrage of pink beams from its iris. In her retreat, Priss swerves and twists around the oncoming rays, some of them nearly scraping her coat. The shots that miss wind up hitting some of the décor scattered about the corridors. While the wooden plagues and displays are changed to be more colorful and sweet, the metal pieces reflect the pink beam off their steel surfaces. Gotta find some cover fast. Who knows what cruel and unusual fate might befall the small medium if that ray strikes her.

In her flight, she spots a mahogany table set to the side ahead, it’s wide size making it the perfect cover for the Priss’s small stature. On her approach, the blue psychic takes hold of the table with her telekinesis and slams the piece of mahogany down upon the red and green floor on its side. Swiftly, she teleports behind the hardwood just before a wayward beam could land. From behind the safety of her makeshift cover, she bares witness to the woods startling transformation from humble dark mahogany to the twisted colors of bright, bubbly purple.

So close to the transformed table, her nose catches its oddly sweet scent. Come to think of it, the former carpeting smells quite similar. What exactly did that weird eye turn them into? Grabbing hold of one of the tables legs, she’s taken aback by how effortlessly she could rip off the once solid wood. Inspection showed the material to be rather light and kinda sticky. Kinda remind her off… A quick lick of the transformed mahogany, she finds her intuition to be on the mark. This taste just like candy. A taste of the carpet under feet revealed a similarly sweet taste, the flavor reminiscent to a lollipop.

Peeking beyond her candy cover, she finds her pursuer stopping upon one of the transformed décor; her demonic eye lovingly gazing upon the treat with a licking smack. Like the sweet fruit from a tree, the cultist picks the morphed wood from the wall and with a wide mouthed bite, rips off a piece of the sweet with a delighted crunch. Priss’s own pupils shrink. The realization of what the sweet toothed tamer schemes to execute her hitting her like a runaway truck of oversized jawbreakers. In this moment of utter horror, the cultist eye directs its site towards the blue psychic.

Swiftly rising up the staircase and booking it through the velvet carpeted halls of the castle, Savage and Carnage race away from their electrically charged string, its never ending yodels echoing across the corridor in its pursuit. In fact, it was such a grate to the ears by this point, that Carnage ceased any resistance against his brothers plan of retreat and instead flees by his side with his claws to the side of his head. “Ahh! This Switzerland singing string of shit hasn’t shut its mouth for 30 minutes straight! When the hell will it end!?” the green brother barks. “Hey, least we ain’t getting shocked no more. I think its starting to slow down too.” A look back to the lanky line of lightning showed Savages analysis to be on point. The walls that it bounces off of don’t nearly give it enough conductive speed to catch up to the demonic duo. Still, the brothers hulking size didn’t exactly give them any kind of edges in the speed department either. Overall though, all of them seem to be going around the same speed.

Turning the corner, Savage notes a whole row of miscellaneous décor lining the walls ahead. When in reach of the first one, a stone carving of a figure, Savage doesn’t hesitate to grasp the statues and chuck it in the singing strings path. Upon contact with the stone, the bolt wanes in its chase, but for only a brief moment. The rocky obstruction does manage to put a bit of distance between it and the brothers, though not enough. Gonna need to put a whole lot more shit in its path before they can lose this yodeling mother fucker.

“C’mon man! Help me out here!” Savage requests. From the green demons side, he tosses towards the lightning line a mystical houseplant, its leaves letting out a horrible shriek upon being thrown. The plant burns upon the electric strings contact, leaving it behind as dusty ash. The pot and the dirt inside make the wave halt in its pursuit for a single moment, though not for long as it burst out from the pot with a loud shatter.

Both Savage and Carnage throw whatever they could get their claws on in hopes of grounding the yodelers lightning fast flight. Painting, pots, enhanced trinkets and possessed memorabilia. It seemed like nothing could stop this singing son of a bitch from bouncing around the walls behind them. Some of the stuff the two threw didn’t even come close to hitting, while the others that did only briefly slowed the line of lightning down. Not to mention the red and green pain train was starting to run out of steam. If nothings done soon, it might come to its final stop.

One final decoration is thrown towards the approaching bolt of yodeling lightning, taking the form of a party demons glass sculpture. Upon contact with the transparent figure, the electrical strings path is disturbed, the glass stopping the pursuing demon in its tracks. Its tone deaf yodels and joyously ear grating songs are soon morphed into panicking wails and ironically shocked screams as it struggles to pry itself from the shattered pieces of the once fun loving figure.

Upon viewing the screeching halt of the lanky lightning, the brothers celebrate losing their purser. Cheering, claw bumping, laughing, inappropriate taunting, they heckled and jested the wasted efforts of their once shockingly dangerous pursuer in their spree through the halls. In the midst of the self congratulatory run however, they fail to notice the turn ahead of them and plow straight through the wall like simple cardboard. Breaching through the brickwork, the duo begin to plummet from hundreds of feet in the air, the moonlight shining upon their screaming descent. Soon the brothers crash down upon the awaiting rooftop of the castle below, roughly crashing down upon a course patch of dirt.

Rising from the dirt, the duo gauge their surroundings. Beyond their moonlit spotlight, nothing but darkness awaited them. “Oh great. Just what kind of bizarre horse shit did we crash into now.” “Don’t know. But honestly, I’d take anything over anymore yodeling. I fucking swear, if I hear anymore singing tonight; I’m gonna uppercut their sorry ass!” Curious what laid beyond the shadow surrounding them, Savage fires from his eye a beam out into the dusk. The demonic brothers witness the beam dash through the darkness, its red glow refusing to cut through the void. Even more of a surprise to them being the beams abrupt stop, halting in midair against next to nothing. “The fuck? What happened?”

Carnage’s question is soon answered once flames begin to spawn among the darkness; one by one do their dim luminescence combine to wipe away the shadows. The vial is soon lifted, the duo finding themselves in the midst of an arena. Along the edges of the pit, holes with metal bars decorated the stone walls. Above the duo be a transparent barrier dividing the pit from the seats. In those seats surrounding them are filled with cultists, besides some of them be various demonic pets of all shapes and sizes. Beyond their hoods, their eyes look down upon the demonic duo, who stand back to back and wait for whatever all of them have planned.

Between the seat stands a podium, its stone supporting an armored individual who approaches the edge. Out from his helm, a booming voice sound off, announcing to all within the arena with a commanding tone: “Welcome one and all, my fellow Höllenfeuer members! Tonight, we bare witness to the newfound strength of our beloved guests! Surely, their might will serve as an excellent addition to our unholy army! The question being, who will have the honer of having them under their command!” Upon that decree, the hooded crowd erupts in a droning cheer, the demonic duo surrounding them looking up towards the armored announcer. “Ain’t nobody but our sis is gonna command us!” Savage proclaims. “What the hell have you assholes done with her!” Carnage rudely question. After a hearty chuckle escape from behind the announcers helm, he soon comes to promise them: “Fear not, my crustaceous friends. You shall be reunited with your sibling soon. All three of you shall rejoin under the ranks of the Höllenfeuer army!” Both the red and green brothers look on to the armored announcer with a burning gaze, the roar of the crowd beating upon their ears. “But first...” On those word do the spectators all silence themselves at once, not a single peep escaping beyond their hoods. “It is time for all of us to bask in the hypnotic wonder of the initiation ritual. A glorious ceremony in which we induct all our demons with and take their minds under our control. May your ears enjoy its serenading song.”

From an emerging hole in the floor does a geyser of smoke gushes out into the arena; among the shroud does the shadow of a single figure rise. The brothers take their stands, prepared for what unknown horrors might emerge from the smoke. The shrouds soon disperse, the demonic duo dumbfounded at what their eyes beheld; the site causing them to break their guard.

A bipedal hairy beast stood before the brothers, a boombox resting in its hairy hands. “Is...Is that a fucking Sasquatch?” Savage wonders aloud. “That! My hell born fiends, is the elusive and mysteriously funky Dancsquatch! Your hearts and mind will swoon before the site of its groovy dance moves and fresh beats. May its hairy and hypnotic rhythms sway your minds to our side. Hit it!” Upon that order, the Dancsquatch sets its boombox upon the dirt ground and hits one of the buttons set at the top. The button pressed, a cavalcade of fresh and funky beats fill the air, its song echoing through the arena. In tune with the dance, the hairy beast before them shows off its groovy moves and bodacious beats. Like damn man, if the god of disco took any form, it would be this unshaven motherfucker.

Gazing away from the big foots dance, Carnage stares upon the spectators and watches as the crowd is caught up in the flow of the rave. Even the armored announcer proves a slave to the groove, his armor clanking with his dance. The green demon look back with dead pan fury, finding his red brother to be boppin to the beat with a goofy ass smile on his face. He halts his brothers bop with but a nudge to the shoulder, Savage ceasing his rising groove. The beast before them lays down the dance as it approaches, letting out a loud scream as it stares on.

Its funk is however halted with a punishing uppercut to its jaw, Carnage slugging the Dancsquatch up towards the broken roof of the arena. A new hole is soon made upon the stone, the hairy beasts head shattering the ceiling. Its unkempt figure dangles by its head, flopping around like a wet paper towel caught in the wind. The entire arena is astonished; their hairy superstar defeated by the cruel claw of Carnage. The armored announcer looks down up towards the funky bigfoot as it dangles upon the roof. “Impossible. No demon in the realms of the unholy plain can resist the hypnotic drawl of the Dancsquatch…How...” Looking down upon the duo below, his helm clanks against his armor as it shutters. “How is it that were able to dispel its groovy temptations so easily?...Just what kind of nightmarish breed of demon are you?” “Fuck you! That’s what! You wanna come at us with stupid ass disco beats and expecting us to kneel over like a couple of damn pussies!? Your gonna have to come at us with stronger shit if you wanna tango with us!” “Hey man, don’t dis disco. It’s fucking fun music. Put on at a party and you got everybody dancin. Its how you have a great time.” Savage defends. “There was a reason it hasn’t been popular beyond the 70’s, Savage!”

The armored announcer look upon the duo, his clanking shudder coming to a halt. A chuckle escapes from his helm, the light giggle soon morping into full blown laughter. The guffaw soon echos along the stone walls of the arena, the brothers quibbling ceasing upon the cackle. “What the hell’s he find funny?” Once his laughter begins to die down, he soon comes to answer Savages question. “You’re absolutely right. Clearly such trivial methods would never work on such a premium breed of demon like yourselves. No. Demons like you must be tamed with much more brutal measures.” Upon those words does the armored announcer snap his fingers, a giant bell rising from the stand upon the snap. From the ceiling does a giant hammer drop down towards the announcer, its massive head resembling that of a demons. Once the hammer lands in his grasps, the armor clad individual leap high into the air. The whole crowd, including the duo in the arena, watches as he descends back down onto the stage and slams down upon the bell with a mighty bang. The bells toll reverberates through the entire arena, the echoing sound signals the holes along the pits sides to rise. From the darkness of these tunnels do countless demons of all shapes and sizes emerge, their eyes locked upon the brothers. As all of them grit their teeth and bare their fangs, Savage and Carnage prepare themselves upon their approach, ready to combat the might of the Höllenfeuer forces. The demons soon lunge, the brothers ready for whatever the mob has in store.

Out from the army does a bulge eyed horror take the first lunges, its peepers flapping in the wind as its oversized head rushes forth. “So these bastards wanna rumble, huh?” With but his claws, Carnage halts the heads charge and grasp its elongated eyes. Swinging its massively sized head about, the green demon smacks the horror upon the other approaching monsters; the bulge eyed beast screaming upon its wild ride. Finding its eyes on the verge of snapping off, Carnage lobs the ugly beast towards his fellow demons, the toss knocking over a whole row of the army before him. “We’ll be glad to give ya one.”

Dashing towards Savage in a furious gallop be a solid gold gorilla, the pounds of its chest sounding similar to the strikes of a gong. “Oh, we won’t just give’em a rumble.” The heavyweight ape leaps into the air with a howling jump, descending down towards the red demon as breakneck speeds. The red demon halts his rapid plummet, grabbing hold of the golden beast massive arms and slamming it down upon nearby demons like a hammer. Savage soon chucks the beast high into the air, jumping up to follow the golden gorilla rise. At the apex of their ascent, the red demon strikes the back of the ape, spiking the dazzlingly deadly demon down upon a chunk of the army like a crashing meteor. Landing back upon the ground, Savage finishes the rest of his statement with: “It’ll be a motherfucking bloodbath!”

Past the beaten corpses and flattened bodies, more of the army crawls out from the woodwork, stampeding towards the duo as the brothers come together. Together, Savage and Carnage’s pupils begin to emanate an eerie glow in accordance to their color. Side by side do the two rush towards the army, a red and green aura enveloping them in their charge. Their overwhelming strength proves no match for the mob to combat as the demons in their path are ripped to shreds.

Blazing through the velvet carpeted halls of the castle, Priss flees from her candy craving pursuer, the eye taming cultist firing a barrage of candy rays from behind. Whether flying out of the sweet beams path or teleporting out of the sugary barrages way, Priss zips and warps along the hall in her attempt to escape from the gluttonous cultist; the hooded eye tamer licking her lips in her pursuit as her mouth drips out saliva. In her efforts to deter her surgery transformation, the psychic shields herself from the beams with passing décor. A wooden plague winds up in her telekinetic grip, the wood halting the ray from hitting Priss. But the makeshift shield seems to have worn out its usefulness, having turned into fragile banana taffy. She tosses the once magnificent plague towards the pursuing cultist; it however fails to even slow the eye tamer down as it happily scarfs down the sweet in one feel swoop. Holy shit! Gotta find a way to gain as much distance from this candy craving bitch as possible; ain’t no way this psychics gonna wind up being bitten down like that.

Aw, but you’d make quite the delicious blueberry gumdrop.

Shaking off the taunting voice in her head, she is nearly struck by a wayward pink beam. Gotta stay focused here, Priss. Don’t want this asshole getting you turned into a savory snickers bar. Need to find someway to lose this sweet toothed cultist.

Turning the corner, she darts through a pair of doors at the end of the hall. Upon the other side of the twin doors, a wave of heat berates the psychic in her entrance. Beyond it, she finds herself within the confines of a small stone room At the end of the chamber rested a huge furnace, its crown baring dozens of clear pipes that flow into it molten lava like precious lifeblood. The glow of the pipes reflect off the metal surfaces of the weapons and shields that decorated the walls. Oh, now it make sense. All those wooden and metal lining those hall earlier must have come from this forge. Quite the collection made by such a humble place, ain’t it? But now’s not the time to get caught up in the works of a little smith. Need to find a place to hide before that candy craving bitch pops in any moment.

From the twin doors of the forge, the eye taming cultist comes bursting forth. Above her head, the gluttonous trainer commands her hell born eye to make a quick scan of the chamber; the optic orb rotating in place. In its search, the demonic peeper has a look of the tools and material used to keep the place running. Beside the metal work and glowing lava pipes, we got the huge jars of materials used to make the metalwork. All the important stuff, like rock, minerals, salts from the bottom of a Moldwin sea serpent, that kinda shit. Near the front of massive furnace be the smiths beloved anvil; this baby had forged countless weapons and metal crafts in this very chamber, just pounding steel for hours on end like a quarterback after winning the Superbowl. Beside that to drive home the analogy being the smiths various tools to help with his endeavors. Hammers, tongs, vices and clamps, the classics; sat nicely on a table by the trusty anvil, standing by for whenever their master has need of them. And finally, we got the cauldron; the refreshing waters sloshing within awaiting to cool the scorching hot metals of the forge. Almost certain that sweet little blueberry gumball flew in here; has to hiding herself behind one of these things. Only a matter of time before she’s uncovered and unwrapped like a delicious jawbreaker.

A very similar thought runs through the blue psychics head as peeks out from behind out of the jars full of minerals. No doubt that she’ll have to come up with a plan fast, else she might wind up being way too sweet for her own good. But something else seems to have caught Priss’s attention, that being the cultists suddenly reserved demeanor. Not moment ago, that crazy candy bitch was chasing her through the hall, constantly firing pink beams from her pet eye with a passionately voracious smile. Now it seem that the robed tamer is taking a far more careful approach. Why the sudden shift in tactics?

On that notes, the light reflecting off the metal works that decorate the walls of the forge gives her a pretty good idea as to why that is. If you were to fire a frenzy like that in here, there’s no question it’d end poorly, and its obvious that the cultist knows this. Still, its something worth knowing, as the gears in the psychic head begin to turn.

Finally, the eye rests its site upon on of the mineral jars; its master putting on a small smirk. The cultist begin to step towards the container, her tongue salivating from her jaw. Her eye readies to fire a fresh candy beam, its pupil emitting a bright pink glow. Moment before she could try her luck in checking behind the jar, the sharp sound of crashing metal reaches the tamers ears. Its eye takes a glance from behind, noting one of the steel weapons having fallen from the wall. Again with this? Certainly, such a cheap trick like that ain’t gonna work a second time. That in mind, she begins to turn her eye back towards the jar. In that moment, something rapidly ascends out from behind the mineral container; the eye firing its candy beam upon the rising figure. Without a hitch, the ray hits its mark. The cultist tongue slurping as her target flashes. The light show coming to an end, her mark descends in her arms, the chocolate treat revealing to be not what the cultist had predicted. Alas, it was not the blue dwarf in her arms, but what looked to be simply a fashionably pompous coat. Delicious looking, but not what she was expecting.

Its then that her acute hearing catches the screams of rapidly approaching metal. The cultist swiftly steps out of the shields path, the steel breaking the jars and spilling countless minerals upon the floor. From behind, the eye tamer gets a clear look of her psychic prey, a blade held tightly in her grasp as a dozen other metal works revolve around her figure.

Priss moves on the offense, launching the blades drifting at her front toward the candy craving bitch; their sharp tips aimed squarely at her eye. The hooded tamers demonic peeper flies out of the swords lunge, parting ways with its blindfolded master. As the eye drifts towards the top of the chamber, the cultist herself moves in closer towards the blue psychic. Firing its sweet beam down towards the psychic, Priss directs her metals in the direction of the blast. The ray is reflected back towards the eye, the peeper evading its own attack. On the psychics other side, its master lunges towards the opening made. Priss slashes at the approaching cultist with her prizes blade to drive her off, but is caught off guard when the gluttonous foe instead jumps over her swing. In her careen over the small medium, the cultist swipes some of the psychics steel defenses and swiftly bites into the steel. Shocked by the huge chunk of metal that her voracious foe had devoured, Priss quickly starts to back away from the cultist.

Her wariness nearly proves her downfall as she sees a pink beam streak by her face. Seeing countless other rays racing towards her, Priss raises whatever metal she has to deflect the beams back. But as the eye evades the shots sent back, the cultist snatches the steel that the blue psychic has and quickly consumes her defenses. She realizes that if this keeps up, she’ll wind up as sweet as a Turkish delight before she knows it.

To that end, she splits apart her cluster of steel and spreads them all through the room, the décor revolving around the chamber. Like to see that bitch take a bite out of her defenses if she can’t reach them. Alongside the steel does the demonic eye weave around the flying metal, shooting barrages of candy rays in its flight. While dodging the descending rays, Priss also evades its masters lunge, the tamers teeth primed and ready to bite. Fleeing from the set of chompers, the psychic sees one of the rays heading her way. With the edge of her blade, she deflects the beam back towards the peepers tamer. The cultist rolls out of the pink beams path, her eye taking aim as Priss back away toward the furnace. In her retreat, she seamlessly takes a bit of the minerals that had spilt on the floor. Her back feeling the intense heat of the forge, the psychic dunks the bits into the lava for a single moment before returning them near her back.

Having used that window of time, she retreats from the furnace to evade the eyes onslaught of pink beams. This barrage pushes her into an unfavorable position; wedged between the eye and its master. Priss readies for whichever of them will tempt to strike first, her blade held tightly in her grip. In this tense moment, her head goes into hyper drive, shifting the metal décor floating around the room. During this, the cultist pounces first, lunging at the psychic with her teeth primed and ready to bite. As soon as her jaw was wide upon, Priss casts the burning bits of rock right into her mouth. The red hot minerals slam into the flesh of her cheek, burning the inside of her carnivorous adversary. Her candy craving foe screams out, Priss taking the moment to escape from her corner. Pissed from the pain from her tongue, the gluttonous fiend fires countless rounds of candy rays from her demons pupil.

The small mediums opportunity has arrived, she swipes a single shield from the side of her drifting metals and redirects the rays towards its fellow steel brethren. From surface to surface, the beams travel throughout the chambers, Priss, the cultist, and the eye weaving and maneuvering around the wayward sweet beams. Finding one of the rays careening towards her direction, the psychic takes tight hold of her weapon. With but a single precise swing of her sword, Priss smacks the beam back to its sender. The demonic eye proves far too distracted by the other wayward rays to notices Priss’s coming.

Upon the direct strike of the sugary sweet beam, the soft eye quickly begins to harden from the point it was struck. It rapidly flies throughout the chamber in a panic as the infectious brown spreads further. As its veins petrify into chocolate, its flight through the forge begins to slow. Its final moment approaching, the eye looks upon its master with its shrinking pupil before ultimately succumbing to its fate. To the ground the former eye crashes down, the fearful peeper now reduced to a simple ball of milk chocolate. Truly, an end none more ironic, but was it one that was deserved? A question that may never be answered.

Her guard remaining, Priss looks onward towards her gluttonous foe once the eyes fate had been sealed. In stark contrast, the cultist, that moments ago was dodging and weaving through countless blades and beams had been reduced to a stumbling mess; helpless as a baby lamb as she trips over the anvil resting at the center. Finding her once voracious foe striped of any defense causes Priss to lower her own, the countless metal decoration that she had kept afloat plummeting down upon the floor of the forge. Alongside the clangs of the crashing metal, the alluring scent of chocolate flows throughout the chamber. The sweet aroma fluttering through the air catches the cultist acute sense of smell. The small medium gazes upon her blinded adversary as the delectable smell draws the cultist towards the ball of chocolate. Lowering herself upon her once mighty eye, she feels her familiars hardened body, tears trickling past her blindfold. Alongside her tear be the drips of saliva pouring out from her mouth. Eventually, her never ending gluttony gets the better of her and begins to consume into her own beloved demon. Although initially horrified by the disturbing example of overindulgence, Priss knows there won’t be a better opportunity to take a peak into the voracious cultists consciousness. Best pry into her mind while she’s distracted, right?

That in mind, the small medium cautiously begins to approach the candy craving maniac, the sounds of the former eye tamers munches and scarfs growing louder the closer Priss gets. At her backside, she slowly starts to reach for the cultist head, weary about the gluttonous fiends insatiable appetite. Never can predict if she’ll just suddenly turn around and bite one of her arms off. The things that the psychic has seen this women put in her mouth, its not exactly that an unlikely of an event. It’s a known fact that some people will be willing to eat the most unassuming stuff, but for hell's sake people; there’s a line drawn in the sand. Dial it back a bit.

Priss hands draw themselves closer and closer to the side of the distracted dining demon tamer, her palms inches from the cultist temple. Finally, she grasp the side of her foes head, her forehead resting upon the back of her hood.

Forcing herself into the depths of the carnivorous cultist mind, she surf through countless memories and experiences of her life. Her hopes, dreams, and her darkest, most depraved thoughts all open themselves up to the psychic. The medium takes in a view of her past; finding her hellish childhood, fighting off creatures of the night in dire hopes of a meal. Some of the cult members finding her during one of her darkest hours. Her induction into the Höllenfeuer ranks, her hands grasping upon the pair of knives aimed right at her eyes. No…This can’t be it. All that trouble just to dig into another empty well?

But soon, she comes to the reminiscences of the castles layout, the cultist being guided through the velvet carpeted hallway. The psychic recognizes parts of the hall as places she has zipped past in her pursuit from earlier, with the walls sporting some of the same wood and metal decorations. Finally, the newfound member is guided to a pair of twin doors; upon the other side stands a towering archive of occult knowledge, the shelves reaching seemingly dozen and dozens of feet to the roof. Unfortunately, Priss gets to behold little of the library itself as the freshly inducted women is blinded by a thick sheet of cloth. Skipping ahead however, that blindfold soon sheds; a thick tome atop a pedestal stands before her eyes. A single word is etched in reflective gold upon the cover above a satanic symbol: Garlov.

The location of her objective having finally revealed itself, the navy blue psychic withdraws her consciousness from the cultist’s own; a fresh breath drawing into her lungs as she comes back to reality. Priss backs away from the cultist consuming her chocolaty familiar, a quick giggle escaping from behind her smirk. Finally, the path to her objective was clear, the book of Garlov within reach. No longer will her brothers dare question her orders once she completes this mission single handedly. This will remind them why “she” is the brains of their team. No. The head of the Nightmare triplets!

With this ambition within her aim, she readies to set off for the library. Shouldn’t be a problem to find her way there relative to this forge, right? Just gotta retrace her way through the halls. Before she can take off, Priss suddenly feels the warm, sticky sensation of a chocolate covered tongue upon the side of her face. Her nerves tingling, she looks to her side, finding the carnivorous cultist craving a taste of the psychics cheek. Swiftly, she drives her blade into the woman’s neck, weak gurgling escaping from the cultist’s maw as she falls to the floor. Her foe finally dispatch, she withdraws her weapon from the corpse’s neck; a frightful shutter shaking through her body. God damn. The weird shit some people do. It’d give a girl nightmares.

Back at the arena, her brothers continued to combat the hellish band of unorthodox monsters and baffling beasts the cult has sicken onto them; all the while the hooded crowds watches the show unfold. Though Savage and Carnage tear through their ranks like a found out drug lord tempting to rid their stock, the army shows not a sign of thinning. Just how many of these monster do these cultish assholes have cooped up in here? Could start a fucking zoo with how many different freak shows they have in store. Sell tickets, put on shows, make food vendors. Probably sell weird mashed up food to match with the demons presented like candy popcorn steak kebabs, or potato stuffed shrimp hot dogs.

Savage tears off the chunky beef arms of a super thick muscle beasts; its mussel crying out in agony as the green demon beats the poor demon to death with its own arms. In his beat down, the red demons grip slips with one of the arms in his claws, flinging it skyward.

As the severed limb soars through the air, the dancsquatch above continues to dance the night way with its head wedged within the roof. The arm manages to wind up smacking Carnage in the back of the head, the green demon turning to his brother as a growl escapes from his teeth. “What the hell, Savage!? You trying to gimme a concussion or what!?” “Sorry, bro. Wasn't watching where I was throwing.” With that, Savage punches through a multi head emu singing Mongolian throat songs, silencing its exotic serenade with a single strike. “Kinda how like your not watching your back.” Hearing that warning, Carnage quickly turns, finding a big snake made of snakewood lunging from behind. Swiftly, the green demon grabs hold of the serpents jaw before its fangs could bite and tears the wooden reptile right in half. Holding the remains of the serpents jaw in his claws, a mischievous grin streaks across Carnage’s face.

With a swift uppercut, Savage delivers the finishing blow to a pasty predator, the gooey fiend splattering to ascending bits. Reveling in his satisfying victory, the red demon licks the remains of his sticky adversary off of his claw. Mmm. Wild berry blast. Truly a delectable flavor worth savoring. As he enjoys the tasty remains of his vanquished foe, he feels the blunt impact of wood smack against his face. Turning to where the chunk of wood was chucked, he found his green brother quickly turning the other way, attempting to act inconspicuous. As if anybody is buying his crap for a minute. Who else could have thrown a log that heavy at him?

Upon that suspicion, Savage hears the approaching mumbles of a lanky two legged cat; its giant mouth whispering nothing but lies and deceit. Before its oversized maw could take the chance to bite, the red demon grabs hold of the odd beasts neck and readies to finish off its lying ass. But a curious thought prevents him from delivering the final blow, wondering if this disingenuous demon could be used for something else. With that in mind, he looks back to his distracted green brother as a devious smirk stretches across his face.

Firing out a red hot ray from his eyes, Carnage keeps back a giant yellow urchin; its pulsating mass approaching with its sharp golden spines. Soon, the undersea urchins approach comes to a smoking stop; its soft, spiny body now hardened and fried; smelling oddly savory and delicious. Grasping hold of the molten hard sea spine, he ponders whether to partake in a bite of its savory body. Probably best not to, could wind up getting a serious mouth ache if one of those spines wound up being wedge between the teeth. So, guess it be best to use this spiky son of a bitch for the next best thing.

With a hearty lift, Carnage holds the sea dwelling spike ball over his head; its chard flakes fluttering down upon the green demons body. Holding the urchin up, he slams the spiny sea ball down upon any demons that dares approach. A ball attempting to slide away on its gigantic tongue like a fleeing slug is smashed into a slimy puddle. A girls head screaming as it runs for its life on its two horse legs unfortunately meets its gruesome end at the end of a spine needle. A goat made entirely out of human hands tries to gallop out from Carnage’s smashing assault, but ultimately succumbs to its bloody fate. His smashing performance nearing its conclusion, Carnage finishes his beat down by lobbing his burned seafood toward an oncoming crowd of freaks. The giant ball of spiked death rolls over and impales whatever stood in its path, several corpses sticking to the spikes as it rolls by.

As he maniacally chuckles upon the gruesome display, he hears Savages faint warning reach his ears. “Heads up Carnage!” Upon that, the green demon turns towards the source of his brothers warning, ending up having the tail end of a two legged cat slap him in the face. After literally tearing the freaky feline off his face, Carnage’s gaze draws itself towards his nearby sibling; a seething growl escaping from between his teeth. “Dammit Savage, what was that for!?” “Hey, I tried to warn ya. Try paying more attention next time.”

Not standing for his passive aggressive bullshit, Carnage grabs hold of a stone fish and chucks it towards his brother. The rocky marine life slams itself upon the red demons backside, Savage stumbling forward from the crumbling impact.

His red hot eye turning towards his brother, Savage bares witness to his unfiltered mockery, sticking his tongue out and pumping his arms. No doubt that he’d probably flip him the bird too if he had any fingers.

In quick retaliation, the red demon takes whatever nearby freak his claws could grasp, this being a floating gas mask filled to the brim with meaty lasagna and pitches it towards his soon to be sorry brothers ass. The mask breaks upon the green demons head, the lasagna and shards of cheap plastic spilling all over his shoulders. Wiping the rotten pasta and plastic off his person, he finds his brother pointing and laughing like an asshole. That’s it, nice claws are coming off.

With both arms, he lifts off the ground what looked to be a cow and a giraffe fused together and lobs the abominable bovine towards his red brother. Halting in his mocking laughter, Savage jumps over the chimeric unholy mistake of nature; its horribly big body mangling through the armada behind him.

Oh, you’ve poked the damn wasps nest bro. Now you gonna feel the sting. As he lands back down upon the ground, he searches his surroundings for whatever else he could throw back. To that end, he reaches for what look to be a robotic elephant, its mighty trunk spurting out samples of dub step. Grasping its metal trunk, Savage swings the musically metallic pachyderm towards Carnage; the mechanical elephant screaming out a loud beat as it tumbles through the air. The metal mammal plummeting down, Carnage rolls out of the way as it crash upon the crowd behind him.

In his evasion, the green demon grabs hold of a walking oak made of meat; his claws grabbing hold of its arm like branches. Swinging the gigantic tree of flesh and blood, Carnage heaves the heavyweight oaks trunk toward his red sibling. Running towards Carnage, a single punch is all that Savage needs to break the meaty oak to bloody pieces.

Finally having enough of his shit, Savage charges towards his green brother in a fury, tearing whatever dared stood in his way to pieces. Carnage in his sites, he tackles the green demon to the ground; Savage pinning him down by his arms. “Cut it out already!” the red demon barks. Kicking Savage off his chest, he quickly rises from the dirt in an uproar as he screams: “You’re the one who fucking started it!” Back on his feet, Carnage jumps high into the air, the spectators watching as the green demon soon starts to plummet back towards the arena grounds like a meteor. Seeing his green brother falling towards him, Savage backs away before Carnage can crash right on top of him. “I said it was an accident! Okay!? Knock it off!” Carnage right in front of him, the red demon hugs his brothers arm and throws him overhead into a chunk of the Höllenfeuer cults freak show;  the army tumbling back upon the green demons massive build. Rising from the corpses of the hellish mob, Carnage finds his red brother on the approach; his claw closed but ready to strike. Right before Savage drew near, Carnage start to lower himself and waited in place. Soon, Savage threw his claw, his brother ducking under his swing to deliver a blow to the red demons stomach. Carnage’s brother stumbles back, clutching at his stomach as he withdraws from the gut punch. During this, Carnage fully stand, approaching Savage with a devilish smirk. “That’s what you get for starting this kinda shit with me. Maybe now you’ll think twice before taking any of my-” Once close, Savage sends out sucker punch right to his green brothers face. Reeling back as he rubs his jaw, a fierce growl once more leaving his lungs. “You motherfu-”

Before the green demon could pounce back, the surrounding demons lunge, their various limbs grasping hold of Carnage's body. Seeing his brother entangled in the armies hold, Savages pupil rapidly shrinks. “Let him go!” the red demon roars. Attempting to rush to his brothers aid, his efforts come to a halt when the hell born forces entangle themselves  upon the red demon from behind. Looking back, he could see their sinister grins, their taunting smiles, and devious laughter as they move in.

Gazing upon his brother struggling to free himself from to mobs hold, Carnage pushes against the demons pull with whatever might he has left. As his feet scrap against the dirt, he stretches his claw out for as far as his arm can reach. Seeing his brother’s open arm reach out for him, Savage claws his way against the demonic hordes pull with whatever strength he has to muster; his other limb reaches out for Carnage’s own. The two edge closer and closer towards one another; the surrounding forces swarm their bodies as their claws prove mere inches from one another.

The armored announcer watches overhead as the duo struggle to fight against the demons of the Höllenfeuer arena; the hell born army finally overwhelming the brothers.

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope

[pedropascalspolygraphtest]

“Are we really gonna ignore the elephant in the room?”- Javier Peña x Reader

Hey! So this is my very first Peña fic- enjoy!

Word Count: LONG. Lol. 

Characters: Javier Peña, Steve Murphy, Messina, Reader

TL; DR: Javier Peña and the reader work as DEA agents in Colombia, hot on the chase for Pablo Escobar. And along the way, it’s time to address the elephant in the room!

Warnings: Strong language, smut! 

“And another fuckin’ bullshit lead,” Murphy grumbled, crumpling up the piece of paper in his hand and aiming for the trashcan in front of him. He missed by a mile, but didn’t seem to care, instead slumping at his desk with his head down.

Javi nodded from across you, eyes pointed to the ceiling. “Medellín just won’t give him up.”

You sighed, looking at the date on the calendar on the desk you shared with Javi. December 24th, you registered with a dull sort of surprise. Six months since you came to Colombia on the DEA assignment- your first. Six months of chasing down bullshit leads and losing men left, right and center. It was almost like the entire country was conspiring to hide Pablo Escobar, that no matter how hard you tried or how long you looked, he would vanish like a ghost every single time. And now, it was Christmas. 

“Christmas Eve, you guys,” you told them, pointing to the date. “Maybe he’ll come out tonight to celebrate.”

“Not fuckin’ likely,” Javi snorted, reaching behind him to the shelf to pull out the half-empty bottle of whiskey. He looked to Steve, who nodded, and poured three glasses, handing one to you without a word. It had become a sort of ritual, for you three. On the nights when you felt like crap and nothing seemed to be working out... there was a reason they made whiskey. 

You waved away the glass, and Javier raised his eyebrows. 

“Y/N denying a glass? Maybe we will catch Pablo tonight, after all.”

You rolled your eyes at him, raking your hair into a messy bun. 

“I’m meeting Carlos after work,” you told him, looking the clock. “That is, if work ever ends. This week has dragged on forever.”

“Hot date?” Javi asked, moving back to his desk. He said it casually enough, but you couldn’t help but sense a tinge of something else, under his nonchalant tone. You looked at him, trying to gauge what exactly it was, but he had his back to you. 

“Date,” you confirmed. “The hot part? Doubtful.”

“Look at you, Y/N, getting yourself a boyfriend,” Murphy grinned, then turned to Javier. “Looks like you missed your shot, buddy.”

“What shot?” he asked, in that same strange tone of voice. 

You bit your lip. You’d had a massive crush on Javi since you came to Medellín, and all those long hours cooped up together hadn’t helped. But Javi didn’t seem to feel the same way, brushing you off just like he did Murphy and heading off after work without a word. To some beautiful woman, no doubt. You had long since given up, and started dating Carlos, a Colombian officer in Search Bloc. Although you couldn’t say seeing Javi brush his hair from his eyes or groan after a long week didn't make you wish something had happened. 

Javi finished your glass of whiskey, sitting back down at his seat. 

“Besides, I’m seeing Ophelia now.”

Ophelia? You looked up. You had never heard of Ophelia before now, and you couldn’t say it didn't send a wave of jealousy through you. 

Steve raised his hands in defeat.

“Can’t say I didn’t try,” he said, looking up when he saw the two of you looking at him in confusion. He sighed. “What, are we really gonna ignore the giant elephant in the room?”

“There’s no elephant!” 

“Yeah, Murphy’s blind,” Javi agreed, lighting up a smoke. “And stupid too, to top it off.”

Steve opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Messina, your boss, came rushing in. 

“They found one of Pablo’s sicarios,” she said, breathless and already dressed in Kevlar. “Out by the church.”

All three of you shot up from your desks, grabbing your guns. 

“Peña, Y/L/N, with me,” she told you, already heading out. “Murphy, with Centra Spike. I need you giving us updates. 

“Again?” he asked, looking exasperated. Messina had been benching him for weeks now, and you knew he was sick of it. 

“Just this once, Murphy,” she told him. “Next tip, you get to bust him yourself. Now let’s go!”

Peña grinned as Murphy gave her the finger behind her back, raising his eyebrows. 

“Looks like Santa Claus is giving us a good one this year.”

***

“In the empty lot,” the voice came over the radio. “He’s alone.”

The officer ahead of you nodded, giving you the signal to go ahead. Peña led the line as you crept around the block, surrounding the lot best you could. This was one of Pablo’s most loyal sicarios- if he flipped, you had the best chance at nabbing the drug lord you’d ever have. You couldn’t kill- only capture. 

“Peña, cover the wall,” Messina told you quietly. “Y/L/N, the gate. Remember, we can’t let him go.”

You nodded in silent confirmation, moving as quietly as you could as Javi crept away. Messina headed to the front with the Colombian officers, ready to attack the lot. You pressed yourself against the wall, peeping inside the lot through the slats of the gate. The intel, for once had been correct. La Quica was inside, sitting in his car sorting through some papers. 

“Visual confirmed,” you whispered into your transmitter. “It’s him.”

“Copy that,” Messina replied, and signaled to the officers. “Go time.”

“Hagalé!” Martinez called, and officers began to rush inside with a maddening blast of staccato gunfire. You waited outside, knowing Quica would make a run for it. 

“Y/L/N, he’s heading for the gate!” the radio blared. 

And he was. You fired at his legs best you could, missing by only a few centimeters as he dodged. Seeing his entrance was covered, he retaliated with a bout of gunfire. You pressed against the wall, a bullet whizzing past your ear, and shot again. But Quica had made it past.

“Peña!” you yelled, seeing him head to the wall. “Incoming!”

“I got him!” he yelled, and chased him across the wall with gunfire. You circled around, wanting to surround him, running as fast as you could. You reached the end of the wall, waiting just inches from the corner as he barreled straight towards you. You hunched down, ready to take the shot, when he fired at you, the bullet finding its way into your leg with searing impact. 

“Y/N!” Javi yelled, ducking as Quica shot at him. But even through the pain, you fired a wild round- a bullet reaching Quica’s leg and embedding itself there. He fell with a heavy thud, the gun skidding away. 

“Quica’s down,” Javi barked into the transmitter. “I repeat, Quica is down- fifty yards from the wall.”

“Confirmed.” 

He threw the transmitter to the side and hunched down beside you, his face furrowed with concern. You grinned weakly at his fear.

“Y/N, what the hell!”

“It didn't even go in, Javi. Barely grazed me. Look, I’ve bled worse falling from my bike in sixth grade.”

“It could’ve done a lot worse.” 

“It didn’t.”  You rolled your eyes, trying your best to stand up, but failing. Flesh or not, it hurt like a mother. Javi rushed over, supporting you under the arm, his fingers strong and warm as they wrapped around you. Carlos, you reminded yourself. You were with Carlos, not Javier. 

The two of you slowly limped over to where Quica lay, his hands cuffed as the Colombians surrounded him. Martinez saw you and nodded. 

“Good shot, Y/L/N.” 

You attempted a smile, which turned into a grimace. God, you leg hurt. You could barely stand. Javi sensed your wobbling and held on tighter, steadying you against him. 

“That was a hell of a shot,” he told you, his dark eyes earnest. “Now let’s get you outta here.”

***

The truck stopped outside the house you shared with a CIA agent, Javi going out and over to open your door and lead you out. You nodded at him gratefully, ringing the doorbell- but there was no answer. 

“Is nobody home?” he asked. You shrugged, ringing the doorbell again. There was no answer. You fumbled in your pocket for your keys- and remembered. 

“Oh crap,” you cursed, sighing. “I forgot to get my keys back from Maria. She’s gone back to Bogotá on an assignment.”

“So you can’t get in?”

“No,” you said, and exhaled loudly. “I guess I’ll sleep at the office then. Messina won't mind.”

“You’re not sleeping at the office,” he told you firmly. “You can stay at my place.”

***

“Is this okay?” he asked for what felt like the thousandth time. You couldn’t help but grin. Javi was surprisingly fussed when it came to you- rearranging the pillow behind your back and making sure you were comfortable. 

“Yes, Javi, I’m fine,” you told him, and suddenly realized you hadn’t eaten since lunch. “Hungry, though.”

He gave you a half grin.

“Hungry is good,” he said, and then rummaged around, looking worried. “But all I got is cereal.”

You looked at the box of orange Capn’ Crunch he held, grinning. You hadn’t had cereal in what felt like years now- and definitely not the good old, sugar-stuffed American kind.

“Cereal is great.”

He looked relieved, pouring it into two bowls and sitting beside you. For a few minutes, there was silence as you ate companionably, then you noticed he was eating his cereal dry.

“No milk?”

He shook his head.

“Nah. Ruins the taste.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at tough-guy and self-proclaimed asshole agent Peña, who was apparently still a six year old behind the aviators and the cigarettes. 

“God, Javi. Such a kid.”

“I’m a kid?” he asked incredulously. “You lick the cream off your Oreos.”

“Only in secret!” you protested, going red. You didn’t know he had seen- hadn’t he been out when you did that yesterday?

“And you still pick the mushrooms off your pizza,” he continued. “And don’t think I didn’t see you stomp your foot when Messina kept you off patrol last week, because I did.”

“Javi!” you snapped in mock-anger, reaching over to slap him. He scrambled away, laughing, but you moved quickly and caught his arm with your hands. For a few seconds, there was silence, his dark eyes looking intently at your own, until you swallowed and pulled away. 

“So...” Javi said after a long pause. “Shouldn’t you.. call Carlos? Tell him you can’t make it?”

You nodded, remembering. Carlos. How had it slipped your mind?

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I should.”

He said nothing, only nodding as he reached over and grabbed his phone, handing it over to you in silence. 

“I- I have to take a shower. You can.. call him. I’ll- give you some space.”

He got up abruptly, dumping his cereal bowl on the counter, and grabbed a towel lying on the chair. 

“Javi,” you called after him as he headed down the hallway. He paused, turning around, looking at you quizzically. “I was going to meet Carlos tonight.”

He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable, the dim light muting his features.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I was going to meet Carlos,” you repeated. “To break up with him. It- it’s not working out.”

Javi looked at you for another long minute, and you could have sworn his eyes lit up, just a fraction. But before you could say anything, he turned away.

*** 

“So I was thinking I could sleep on the couch,” Javi told you as he emerged from the shower. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked, wearing only a pair of pants, the water glistening on his tanned arms and his hair still damp. “You can have the bed. More comfortable.”

“Sure,” you told him, flustered. God, what you’d presumed of shirtless Javi had not done justice to reality. “I’ll go to bed now, then.”

You began to sit up, noticing the bloodstain on the front of your shirt. Yours, and Quica’s. You didn’t want to sleep in that.

“Can I borrow-” you began, but when you looked Javier was already handing you one of his t-shirts. You took it gratefully as he turned around politely, trying your best to take off your button down. 

“Ugh,” you winced, your hands slipping. Javier swallowed, turning around. 

"I- uh, I can probably make that easier,” he said, reaching over. You sat back, letting him unbutton your shirt, his fingers fumbling uncharacteristically as he tried. Finally, he had, and pulled it off as gently as he could, his eyes going wide, although he tried to hide it. You blushed. You had worn your oldest, thinnest bra today, and it didn’t do a very good job of concealing what it was supposed to. Your nipples pressed against the cloth, the curve of your cleavage threatening to swell over. And clearly, you weren’t the only one who’d noticed, because Javi shifting beside you and pressing his legs together told you enough. 

Seeing you look, he pulled his eyes away with marked effort, wincing when he saw the wound. 

“This is bad. Let me fix this up.”

He stood up, grabbing the box of supplies, and took out a swab, cleaning around the flesh. You winced as the alcohol touched your skin, and he pressed your side with his fingers, steading you. Quietly, he wrapped it up with gauze, moving away only a centimeter, so your eyes locked onto his face. 

It didn’t take much. In a second, his lips were on yours, soft and warm, the stubble scratching your cheek as you kissed. You melted into the kiss, matching his slow motions with your own. You had been wanting this since you met him. 

It lasted hardly a few seconds before he pulled back, his eyes locked to the ground with uncharacteristic sheepishness. You looked at him for a long moment, the tension between you thick enough to stifle. 

“Javi.” 

He said nothing, only swallowing deeply, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“Javi,” you said again, reaching behind you. He still wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Javier, look at me,” you said, so strongly that he heeded. And you unclasped the hook of your bra and let it drop to the space between you.  

For a second there was only silence, his ragged breathing filling the space between you, his eyes raking your body with pure, undeniable hunger in them. And then, he pounced. 

His mouth collided with yours, tongue slipping into your mouth, his hands grasping at your breasts. You arched your neck as his fingers squeezed your nipples, circling, and his mouth sucked at the soft skin of your throat. 

“Javi.” His name came out softer this time, a whisper, hardly, and he responded by moving lower down, burying his face between your breasts so his soft hair tickled your chest. God. It- what he was doing was indescribable. 

Your jeans felt tight and uncomfortable against your skin where they had been well-worn only hours ago, and you ached to take them off. Noticing you finger the buttons, Javi reached over and unzipped it himself, pulling them off as your fingers clawed at his own pants, the bulge behind them tantalizingly hard against your core. His fingers stopped questioningly at the edge of your underwear- soaked to the bone, you knew- and you nodded in silent confirmation. 

“God, Y/N,” he said, pulling away to look at you, naked. His eyes raked your every curve, lingering on the hollow between your legs. He swallowed deeply. “You’re beautiful.”

Any other time, you would have made a joke, told him he was using cliched, stupid Hollywood lines- but your mouth was too dry, your skin too flushed, to respond. Instead, you just arched your back as his mouth found its way to your core, teasing and curving along the deepest part of you, the stubble grazing your skin. 

“Jav-!” you couldn’t even finish his name as  your back arched and your toes curled, the release filling you stronger than it ever had. You unzipped his pants as quickly as you could, fingers scrabbling to release him, and finally succeeded, marveling at the size of him in your hands. There was a momentary pause as he fumbled in his wallet for a condom, but soon Javi was back. He moved onto you as slowly as he could, careful not to hurt you, laying you down against the cushions. He dipped into you slowly, the length of him filling you deeper than anyone ever had, and you gasped as it touched your core. Javier looked at you, worried. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, his voice low, guttural, but you could do nothing but shake your head no. Slowly, rhythmically, you and him moved in unison, the strokes getting faster and deeper as you pressed on. His grunts against your ear were deep and guttural, and you both found your release together, him groaning against you with a shudder. 

Afterwards, he carried you to his bed, wrapping a blanket around the two of you, and you fell asleep, curled up together.

***

You woke up to his arm wrapped around you, his hair pressed against your skin with his head buried up against your shoulder. You smiled, looking at him. He was adorable when he slept. 

Without opening his eyes, he quirked an eyebrow.

“Any reason you’re staring at me at six in the morning?”

You grinned.

“Because you’re beautiful.”

“Isn’t that my line?” he asked, and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Javi.”

***

The next day at the office, you walked in together, holding giant cups of coffee. As you stepped inside to put them down, Javi walked up, grabbing them for you, and gave you a grin. 

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Javi.”

He rubbed his neck, seemingly undecided on something, and reached in suddenly for a kiss. You kissed for a long moment, and when you pulled back you felt him smile against your lips.

“Whoa!” Steve walked in, his arms raised in front of him. He nodded at Javi, taking a seat at his desk. “Finally grew a pair, did you?”

Javi flipped him off, rolling his eyes, and sat down at his own desk. 

Steve shrugged, grinning.

“Whatever, dude. But the next time I tell you there’s an elephant in the room, it’s because there fuckin’ is.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR MORE NARCOS!

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[writeforwronggg-blog]

Tsuyoi Josei(5560 words)

When I was younger, my mother always told me to honor myself and others equally. She would tell me of her childhood before the adoption of Chinese political systems and the insertion of the Samurai way of life. As a young child, I never truly grasped why she would tell me these things.

Why would my mother tell me of the superiority complex of nearly all men of our time? How she was supremely mistreated by men older and younger than herself, just as every Japanese woman was? Though that’s not a major problem as of now. Not as of 638: the year I became a Samurai.

The Tang dynasty and the introduction of not only an empress of China, Wu Zetian but also Buddhism and it’s empowerment of women on the rise, us women were at a high point. Though there were still major tensions between the Confucian and Buddhist beliefs, Buddhism was a major game changer for the empowerment and belief in female abilities in modern Japan, China, and Korea. We were no longer viewed as the lowest class, but as equals to everyone else(in justified cases of course).

Still, I was not a believer of any religion. I had always believed in people and their own personal morals, versus the morals, thrust upon them to follow by religions for selfish reasons. Yes, selfishness, because although nearly all religions preach the ideals of selflessness, it’s for purely selfish reasons. Every religion, for which I have seen, give promises after promises of reward for being a kind and serving person. It’s fuel for us to be good, but why do we need to be motivated to be decent people? We are all human dealing with the same struggle of life and its challenges, no?

People love to twist the words of good men and women from religions to fit their own agenda, and it’s very warranted because one can not say it’s out of context since most teachings are open to interpretation. How can you say something means one thing, yet when another points out its hypocrisy or ‘plot holes’ you change your words? That truly is religion in its purest form. It’s meant to give people reassurance through symbolism but all it does is turn a heart to the dark side through the idea of a prosperous afterlife or reward.

That is the focal point for me as of now. Being a female Samurai in a country that was so against the idea of women existing as anything more than a wife and mother was strong only a few short years before. 625, the earning of the Tang dynasty’s Tian Ming, was a major milestone for this small town called Chiba, near the rapidly growing city of Tokyo.

I bet you’re wondering about me, who I am, what story I’m here to tell- and the answer is soon to come. First  I should start from the beginning, no?

My name is Otokita Karanaki, daughter of Haruto and Kaito Karanaki. My father, Haruto, was a well known and supremely respected elder in our town, but a few years ago when our town had been raided, and my father killed, the people mourned greatly. As my father had no male heir to his fortune, and the teachings of Cong Fuzi’s “the Master said: When the father is alive, observe the son’s intent. When the father dies, observe the son’s conduct. One who does not alter his late father’s way for three years may be called filial.” But those teachings neglected to speak on behalf of the daughters, leaving me to become the ‘son’. No, I don’t mean becoming a man, simply taking over his responsibilities.

I had no person lined up for me to marry, and my mother was becoming more and more ill every day. The flu had caught up to her, and the physician was frequently gone to other, more wealthy, families. I had two young sisters, only one and two years younger than I, and I was meant to raise them. As most of our society was very judgemental of our lifestyle, I had chosen to raise them as I wished and not into a religion. I used most of my money to try to educate them in European ways and fighting techniques my father had taught me. I was already a low ranking Samurai, so finding time to see them between my duties was difficult and I eventually decided it best to send them off to a school in India.

It’s been years since I sent them off, and not one week have we missed a letter. Though I worry about them greatly, my life here is not on hold. I have a friend, and she’s amazing. Being put in the situation I was, it could be difficult to find someone who would be there for you unconditionally, but she… well, she was there. For everything and anything.

Her name is Ishi and the only way I would ever describe her is strong. She is always supportive, kind, reassuring, and dependant. Oh, how strong she is. As a child, her parents gave her away to a caretaker who would raise her in an abusive home in which hated any girl or woman. She fought her way out of that place and journeyed across the regions looking for somewhere to live. She endured much across the way, many hardships such as rape and other unspeakable woes, and finally made it here where I had found her and taken her in.

I found her along a path, clothes were torn, body worn, and face filled with resilience. She had gone through so much, yet she was still one of the best most understanding and accepting people I’d ever known. She had so many stories she’d kept to herself for so long, some good and most bad, and she was so scared for so long to trust me with them. It had taken a long time and a lot of patience before she could open up to me and when she did I was astonished and even more proud of this girl, woman, I had come to know. Her heart, mind, and soul were beautiful, as was her body.

Her hair, when let down from her usually messy bun, goes down like a smooth black waterfall all the way to her wide-set hips. Her eyes were solotica and utterly beautiful. Her naturally milky-turned-tan skin is as soft as my mother's silk, and her voice was deeply captivating. Anyone and everyone wanted to wed her, but I was looking after her and no one had dared to ask for her hand in marriage if they were not absolutely sure she’d agree and love them. I was not so easy to persuade, especially not with her, and it seemed she wasn’t either.

“Oto? What are you thinking of?”

I looked down, into the eyes of my mother’s eldest friend’s son’s eyes as he examined my stone cold features. Kawa is his name, and he’s been at my side since this morning when I left my home to patrol my small town. He was about 1.8 meters tall and surprisingly handsome, though he is surely the epitome of male arrogance.

I looked at him, thinking of all the times he’s tried to take my hand, and rolled my eyes at him. He looked surprised as if this wasn’t expected of me.

“None of your concern, Kawa. What is it you are following me for, anyhow? Has your mother finally tired of you?” I ask jokingly, earning a small chuckle in return.

“Tire? Of me? Never. I am too entertaining and hard working to bore of. If only you’d see it, Oto,” he insisted, nudging me slightly.

I eyed him suspiciously and took a step away, uncomfortable of our close proximity. I looked out over the small hill we stood on, wondering what Ishi was doing at the moment.

“Do you suppose Mrs.Itō will make that kimono well? I promised to pay very much for it, but Ishi isn’t comfortable with the tailoring process and I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable so I hadn’t given Mrs.Itō the measurements. Will it fit right? I told her it’s similar to me, maybe 40-50 centimeters wider at the hips, about 28 shorter at the legs. Was that okay do you think?” I ranted, slightly happy about tonight’s event.

Tonight, being our last elder’s 82nd birthday celebration would be very extravagant. Every person from the town would be there and there was nothing more exciting to me than a break from my duties. Though I would still carry a few small weapons with me, I would not be actively on duty.

He looked at me strangely, as if he was very confused and suspicious. I rolled my eyes, not expecting a response and turned around to begin heading back down the beautiful hill. He followed short behind but stopped a few minutes later. I did as well, hand on my Katana in case there was danger lurking.

“Why do you care so much for her? She’s just some random wench from off the street. Why would you even-” his sentence was cut short by my katana being held to his throat.

I stood there, mere inches from his handsome face, teeth gritting in anger, and fists clenched around the strong tile handle, hardly aware of his appearance. I could see his surprise, as I rarely lose control of my patience, and tried to calm my rising temper.

“I would do my best to not insult my dearest friend. She is far stronger and smarter than you may believe. She is not a wench and you will show respect when talking of her or face the consequences of us both.”  I seethed, receiving a huff of disagreement and damaged pride.

“Of course,” he agreed hotly, after a few more seconds of violent tension, releasing him and stepping back, “You’re quite a strong-willed woman. The people who doubt your strength have much to come for them.”

I tried not to, really, but I could never stay angry with Kawa. He’s my oldest friend! How could I?

I shoved him lightly, letting out a breathy and quiet laugh. He did the same until it turned into a full-on shoving contest, resulting in him being held down to the ground, arms pinned behind him. He tried to resist, multiple times, but I would only make my grip tighter.

“I surrender! I surrender!” he choked out tiredly. I released him, standing up and adjusting my gauntlets.

“You best remember this, Kawa, the next time you think you will win.” I teased.

I was about to look up, but I was quickly shoved into a tree, arms pinned awkwardly behind me, and Kawa holding my head against the trunk. I was breathing hard, as was he, from the quick action and he leaned in slowly to my covered ear.

“I think I will remember this,” he simpered, “will you?”

It was odd, the way he said it. I’m not used to this, it’s usually foolish flirting and pointless innuendos, but this wasn’t. This was ‘I’m bigger and better than you’ and it wasn’t doing anything but fueling my feminist anger. I leaned into the tree, surprising him and throwing him off balance, and pushed back again making him stumble back. I turned, pushing his back against the tree and used my foot to kick between his legs, making him release his hands so I could turn and elbow his mouth. He turned around, cradling his bleeding lip as he whimpered lowly.

“Don’t ever do that.” I raged, clenching and unclenching my fists tightly.

He looked at me, eyes confused and nodded his head slowly. I relaxed my face and turned back around to continue my walk down the hill. He followed, not as closely anymore, and I would occasionally stop to listen for any loud, troubling noises.

“I’m sorry,” he said once we reached the town again.

I huffed, not impressed, before taking a left down a small alley. He followed again, I walked faster, as did he. Once we reached the end of the small passing I turned abruptly, stopping him in his tracks. I tapped my foot, waiting there silently for him to continue his earlier apology.

“I’m sorry for taking you off guard. We do this all the time though, Oto, why were you so upset?” he asked irritatingly.

I huffed, balling my hands up before taking a calming step backward.

“It’s not that, Kawa,” I admitted solemnly, “it’s the fact that your tone sounded as if you believed you were any better than I. I care about you, but I would never see you again if you truly believed that.”

He was confused. You could tell because his chocolate brown eyes read that all over them. He looked down and back up at me, taking a step forward, and trapping me against the rough wall.

“If you think I believe that at all, then you truly haven’t been paying attention to me. I am infatuated with you. You’re strong and caring and you take in poor, worn strays off the street. You’re determined and stubborn and focused. You’re loving and wise and attentive. You’re a beautiful and independent woman and I love you for that. Damn it. I love you Otokita!” he confessed, surprising me very much.

And then he kissed me. He kissed me so fiercely, so kindly, yet so softly, I could do nothing but believe him. I could tell he felt a spark, fireworks even, but I did not. I couldn’t feel anything from that kiss other than sadness and pity. I kissed back, simply in reaction, and felt horrid.

I could never love him, not truly, not like he did me. I could only think of one thing as this was happening, and it terrified me beyond words. He pulled away, out of breath and sweaty, and smiled genuinely. I simply stood there, shocked and sad, and watched the happiness in his strong features fade. He examined my eyes carefully before stepping back, removing the arm that he had wrapped around my covered waist, and looked away.

“Do you… do you not feel the same?” he asked shyly, shoulders held firmly as a shield from my soon to come words.

“I-I-I...I cannot. I am so sorry, Kawa! I-” I didn’t finish that sentence as he turned away and walked determinedly.

I stood there solemnly, confused and angry and scared, as I filtered through my thoughts. I brushed over them all before straightening up and returning to my job.

==================

After the rest of my duties that day, I decided to go to Mrs.Itō’s shop to see if she finished the kimono I commissioned. I was outside of her small bright shop, merely looking at the cute calligraphy her 12-year-old son had made for her. One of the small window signs read ‘Kamotos- 3 yen’. I smiled lightly, remembering my sisters when they were his age. They had been obsessed with the new lessons on writing and calligraphy. It was the highlight of their week and they would practice whenever they had the chance.

“Oto? Oh, okosama, why are you not coming in? Come, come!” she gushed, broom in hand, and a bean-sack filled with needles in hand.

I smiled lightly, glad that Mrs.Itō has never judged me. She was always so kind to me and my family and was never a displeasure to be around. She radiated grace and honor, along with love and welcome. She was what I’d always imagined my grandmother had been like. It’s how my mother spoke of her, and I had no choice but to believe that.

“Mrs.Itō, what a pleasure,” I crooned, “I’m only here for a moment, the celebration is tonight and Ishi and I are in need of our kimonos. Are they ready? I have the 6 yen right here”

I reached into my small sack wedged between my armor and pulled out the cloth-covered coins. She smiled, nodding and taking me to the next room that was covered head-to-toe in cloth and fabric. I saw so many bright colors that worked so well together, something she had quite the eye for.

“Right here, okosama.” she said, smiling and holding out two burlap covered dresses, “Would you like to see yours?”

“Of course,” I agreed, watching as she lifted the cover.

I was in awe. Simple, unadulterated awe.

“It’s…”

“-Beautiful?” she chimed lightly.

I nodded, thoroughly surprised by the dress in front of me. The dress was covered in embroidered pink flowers that shrunk in size the farther up they got. The fabric was a black and pastel pink gradient, black being at the bottom. The obi was on top of the dress, a thick and wide black ribbon with pink floral lace bordering it. It reached past my feet, opening to show my ankles and the detailed black-bordered-pink silk on the inside.

It was far more than I had paid for and I was so grateful for the hard work I knew she had put into making this dress. I could only bow, arm resting on my back and the other holding the sliding weapons on my belt.

“Words cannot describe the great honor I feel for your hard work on this masterpiece.” I compliment sincerely, head still bowed.

She chuckled, setting the dresses down carefully and resting a hand on my shoulder. She sighed, bringing her soft hand to grab my chin lightly and lift me up.

“It’s only what you deserve, okosama. Do not underestimate what we, as the people of Chiba, appreciate of you. Tonight is not only to honor our elder, but also the work of our strongest warriors. I know at times you are judged, but the Elder thinks very highly of you and asked for me to do my best work on you two.” she explained, bringing a few tears to my eyes. I quickly wiped it before smiling and standing up straight.

“Thank you, but I must go. I should see you tonight then, yes?” I asked, reaching for the dresses.

“Of course,” she replied, giving me a farewell and leading me to the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ishi? I’m home and I have our kimonos!” I announced, closing the wooden door behind me as I headed into her respective room.

She was behind her partition wall, probably changing. I heard a squeal before I saw a half-naked Ishi running towards me and tackling me. I laughed along with her, glad the bed was behind me and pushed the stout girl off of me.

“I see you’re excited,” I tease, getting a giggle in return, “Would you like to put on your dress?”

“Of course! I am so excited for tonight’s event! It’s been ages since we’ve had a real time away from the tensions lately. Please tell me you’re coming tonight!?” she begged, turning on the bed on her knees to sit on my lap.

I chuckled, stroking her soft black hair and looking at her beautifully cheerful face. I nodded, she squealed, I laughed, she hugged, I hugged. We sat there for a good while, holding each other comfortably while she played with my messy helmet hair.

“Did you hear about what this party is for, Oto?” she asked genuinely, continuing to play with my frizzing hair.

“I did, from Mrs.Itō no less. It’s very reassuring. Do you know why I became a Samurai, Ishi?” I asked.

She sat back up, arms sitting on her lap and shook her head, truly interested.

“When my father died, and the town was so scared, I left my house. I went up to the hill I always did and sat there, wondering, crying, and mourning. While I was doing that, I hadn’t noticed the lanterns floating. It was the tradition- every and anytime a person passed, the people who cared about them must light Chinese lanterns. It was a new tradition at the time, just learned by our people from an immigrant, and the town’s people loved its symbolism. Well, while I was looking at those brightly lit white lanterns, I noticed the atmosphere hadn’t truly changed. I could still feel the pain those people were feeling, the fear. I knew we had never had the best protection in Chiba, but this had shown me how important it was. All that fear, that pain, could have been avoided had we had a Samurai devoted to protecting this small but beautiful town. I never wanted those people to have to face that fear again, not if I could help it. So hearing how these people truly care and appreciate and respect my position and duties truly brings me to tears.”

I meant every word, every spilled syllable, every emotion that leaked through. It was true, and  I wanted to share that with Ishi because I had come to a realization that I would always want her in my life. I never wanted her to be married, I never wanted her to be taken from me. It hurt to think that she could consider another person over me. Why? Why did that scare me? Why did I care?

“Oto?” she asked shyly, eyes glossed over, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I smiled, tossing those thoughts away and she smiled back, rubbing her eyes to make the tears go away.

“As are you. Let’s get ready, shall we?” I asked, cheerfully standing up and turning to get her dress from the pile.

I handed it to her, watching as she removed the burlap to see the almost exact same dress as mine. Hers was a pale yellow and light blue, with blue being at the bottom. Her eyes grew wide in awe, a wide smile growing on her beautiful face.

“This is...Spectacular!” she gushed, turning the kimono around to see the back.

She rushed behind her partition to get changed as I went to mine to change as well. The dress fit me perfectly, the only thing I needed to do was tie my ribbon and do my makeup

“Ishi? Can you tie my ribbon?” I asked, knocking gently on her door.

It soon opened, revealing a gorgeously dressed girl. Her hair was pinned in a beautiful braided bun with pieces of hair systematically placed on her face. It had the chopsticks I had bought her for her birthday last year in the back, placed accordingly to hold her hair.

“You look amazing.” we both said together, resulting in us both laughing hysterically.

“Ribbon?” she asked, handing me her own yellow-laced-blue ribbon. I smiled before raising an eyebrow and handing her mine.

“Of course, turn,” I said, wrapping the ribbon around her slim midsection, grazing just below her breasts and tying in the back a beautiful bow.

“My turn,” I say, turning so she could do the same.

“There, now we’re both properly dressed. Makeup?” she suggested.

I smiled, nodding, and turned to head to my room where I kept our supplies. We did a simple Kabuki look with blue eyes for herself, and pink for me. I turned to her, finished with my look, to see her applying her mascara. Her face was stretched in the funniest way, causing me to giggle quietly to myself to not mess up her application.

“All done. I already took care of your mother. She’s eaten and is resting right now. If we’re back to check her before midnight we should be okay. I’ll go get my gloves and you can go powder the shoes.” she told me, standing up and walking out of the room oh-so-gracefully.

I got up and did as she said, waiting for her to come outside as I tapped my foot impatiently. When she finally came outside I gave her a raised eyebrow and she chuckled, standing close to my side as we left for the center of town where the celebration was at.

“You look spectacular, let’s hope your makeup stays put in this heat.” she joked, a smile growing by every step closer we get.

“Same for you, but you’d look beautiful either way.” I coaxed.

Though the makeup was covering most things, I’d imagined she’d blushed by the way her shoulders tilted, if that makes any sense. I hadn’t mentioned to her that I brought my Tanto with me, a small dagger used in honor, tucked into the side of my ribbons where it was blocked from sight by my arm.

As we got to the area it was being held, you could hear the sound of a koto and shakuhachi being played. The people were all gathered, conversing with each other, eating the sushi and other foods being served. I smiled, looking over to see that Ishi was smiling brightly at the colored lanterns hung above the town square.

“They dye the glass,” I tell her, pointing at the man who did its shop, “it’s a technique the English use in their Catholic churches to make window paintings.”

“That’s beautiful.” she says, now noticing the food, “Let’s eat! I’m starved.”

I chuckle, following her as we pick up the wooden plates and pick food. I followed her to go sit at a table with some of the acquaintances she’d made over the last few years. After about an hour or two, I saw Kawa walking toward our table.

“Otokita, may we speak in private?” he asks, looking far more professional than I’m used to.

I look over to see Ishi giving him an unreadable look and I agree, excusing myself. We walk a few meters away, behind all the set tables and a few rows of trees. He stopped, turning to look at me and giving me a coy smile. I cross my arms grumpily, tilting a hip out and staring at him.

“So, you don’t love me,” he said, smirk not wavering.

“Yes, and I apologize.” I agree sympathetically, nodding my head and looking over his shoulder, back to the table I was at to see Ishi missing. I look out to the dancing area and see her swaying with a young man about her age.

Jealousy.

“Well, I think we can fix that. You just have to see what a great husband I will make for you,” he says, drawing my attention away from my girl.

“What are you talking about, Kawa?” I ask, confused.

“You say you cannot love me, but I think you can,” he reached out, grabbing my hand in his and holding it there, “We already have a connection, you just need it to strength.”

I was shocked, to say the least, I hadn’t expected this from him and I was so confused.

“Kawa, you don’t understand. I can’t love you because I don’t have room.” I say as lightly as possible, trying to release my hand.

“No, no,” he chuckles, pulling my hand back towards himself, “You have room. I accept your duties, I know they come first. I can be secondary, I don’t mind”

“Kawa, you’re really not getting it-” I was cut off by his lips on mine, invading it and making me angry.

I shoved him off of me, turning him around with the Tanto held to his throat. I got close to him, almost touching his nose with my forehead and looked up into his frazzled brown eyes.

“You. Aren’t. Getting. It.” I say through gritted teeth, “I don’t have room to love you because I already love someone.”

He was mad, I could see it. His hands were pinned so he couldn’t do anything.  I backed away slowly, keeping the Tanto to his throat, and finally removing it when I was at a safe distance.

“You mean so much to me, Kawa, but do not confuse that with romantic love. You doubt me, see me as another woman, another wife to make dinners. I am not that and I could never love or be with someone who expects that.” I said softer this time to make him understand.

“Who is it? Who do you love?” he asks angrily, a hint of sadness seeping through.

“It isn’t important. I need you to know this isn’t hurt you.” I say seriously, deflecting the question I could barely admit to myself.

“I understand. Just know that I won’t give up on you. I will stop the flirting, but know I will never give up on us.” he said sincerely, making me feel sympathy for his cluelessness.

“I understand,” I say simply, turning around and heading back to our table where Ishi was not present.

I gave the tablemates a questioning look and they all smiled lightly.

“She’s gone from the dance floor, okosama. Try looking near the food, she left with that young man. Possible husband?” one of the older women asked.

I smiled shyly, internally cringing at the thought of her marrying. I thanked them before heading over to the food table to see her and the young man sharing a long, slimy, kiss. I cleared my throat, arms crossed angrily, looking at the two.

“Ishi. We’re leaving, say your goodbyes.” I instruct, reaching to separate the promiscuous pair.

She looked at me, anger and regret shining in those beautiful green eyes. She huffed, turning t the young man and whispering something in his ear and giggling. He smiled, resting a hand softly on her wait. I huffed, tapping my foot and flipping the blade in my hand from earlier.

“Goodbye.” she purred to him, sauntering away from the table and towards our table to say goodbyes.

I’m not going to lie, that hurt, but I really had no reason to discourage her behavior. I wasn’t her father, she could canoodle with whomever she pleases. Still, I was angry.

“What was that?!” I blurted, squeezing the Tanto.

“What was what?” she retorted, “It wasn’t any different than what you and Kawa were doing in the woods. I’m not blind, you know.”

I scoffed speeding up my walking since she had.

“What does that matter? It’s none of your business!” I shout, she scoffed, turning her heel and stopping.

“And what’s any different from my situation?” she seethed, puffing her white cheeks.

“Because it is! Who was he anyway? Is he going to ask for your hand?” I ask honestly, anger radiating from me at the idea.

“Kii Wan! He’s amazing, and maybe he will! And I’ll accept!” she shouts, arms flailing as she steps closer to me.

That shot daggers down my spine. I wanted to scream, cry, yell, fight, stab, and most of all I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her cute face. The face that makes me smile every time I see it.

“Why?” I asked, my voicing cracking slightly as fear crept up my spine.

A single tear. One little tear. It rolled down my face, I could feel it taking some of the makeup with it. I hadn’t cried in nearly 6 years since my father’s death. Not once, but the thought of losing her to some man made my heart ache worse than it ever has. I couldn’t take it, I couldn’t. I had to convince her to stay.

“Oto-” she empathized, stopping before she finished.

“Please.” I cried, “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me. Am I not enough?”

I sobbed. Sobbed. Actually, truly, sobbed. And she knew. She knew how I was broken. She hugged me, crying just as I am, likely ruining each others kimono. We held each other, tighter than the day she told me her story, and it was bliss. I was broken, yes, but something about this hug told me it wasn’t what I thought it was.

“Otokita, I love you,” she said, staying still as can be, yet still holding onto me just as tightly.

“I love you, too, Ishi.” I emitted with all my heart.

We kissed, on an empty dark road, with ruined smeared makeup, the taste of rice flour invading our mouths, but we didn’t care. Because all thought we would never be able to share our love with the world, we could still love each other. We could love each other until the day we die. Until the day I fulfill my promise to protect Chiba.

“You didn’t really care for that boy, did you?” I asked, regrettably.

“Never, I was simply acting out of anger and jealousy. I’m sorry, Oto,” she mumbled.

As the years moved on, I fulfilled my duty. Kawa accepted that I could never be his and eventually found himself the most beautiful woman he said he’d ever seen. I found that there were many troubles with being, not only a female Samurai but also a bisexual woman in love with another. It wasn’t until 6 years later did my sisters return to take care of my ailing mother. They were happily married to two different and feminist men. The Karanaki name had been carried on through my 2nd niece, and my mother died 8 years later.

I could never regret any of my choices- to raise my sisters Atheist’s, to become both an okugatasama and Samurai, to fall in love with a lost and nearly broken woman. None. It was what led me to my happiness throughout the struggle and judgment of 7th century Japan.

[fangirlmania95-blog]

summertime scandals

Maybe it was because of the dark thoughts I had before bed, but I found myself being pulled into a restless sleep. Dark shapes seemed to be forming around me. The world looked to be cast in shadows. I looked ahead and found myself facing a tree. That was strange. I looked around and noticed I was in a forest. It seemed eerily familiar. I felt myself being watched. I heard a branch snap behind me and I started running. I didn't know why. All I knew was that if I was caught I would die. I kept running for what seemed like hours until it felt as though my heart would burst. Running becomes harder. My legs heavier. I look down and see my shoes sinking into the ground which is now covered in black sludge. I feel myself going in deeper. When I feel my legs are unable to move and are completely locked, I hear the cawing of a crow. I look up and sure enough, there it is, on the lowest branch of the tree ahead of me. It stares at me with its beedy eyes, looking as if it were trying to tell me something. As I stare back, I feel something heating the skin above my chest until I feel as though it would burn me. I look down and there is my locket, glowing in a deep shade of gold. I take it off and open it to find a dagger with a hilt in the shape of a winged angel. Even in this dream I feel I am going crazy. How is it physically possible to pull a fifteen centimeter dagger from a two-inch locket. Well then again, this was a dream. The dagger seemes to be a part of me. And surprisingly I know exactly what to do with it. I push myself deeper into the sludge, until I'm completely submerged from the waist down, and I raise the dagger above my head then bring it down swiftly, stabbing the goo-like-substance. The earth around me seems to solidify once again and I easily pull myself from it. The crow above gives a final caw and flies away. I feel the monster behind me now, closer than ever. I have to go now! I start running again and to my relief, I find a small shack at the end of the path. I throw myself at the door, frantic now. "Open the door, please, you have to help me!" I continue banging with all my might. If she gets to me he's doomed. Its all my fault! It's all my fault! The door is wrenched open but no one is behind it. All I see is darkness. Then, a tall figure comes forward and I stop breathing. Its the boy from before. But he seems different. His hair is longer. Almost past his shoulders. Now that I'm at a closer range, I notice that he's taller than me. He must be above six feet. "You didn't think you would get away, did you? " he asks. His eyes are filled with fury. I notice that he's holding onto the hilt of a sword attached to his belt. I hear someone come up from behind me and I know I'm dead. The world becomes pitch black. My heart starts pounding. I can't see anything. I'm all alone. I look around frantically and see in the distance, a pair of blood red eyes- and no, not just the irises. The whole eye is a sickening shade of red . I hear husky female laughter from a distance. My whole body fills with despair. Its over. I've failed.

I wake up with a start. My whole body is shaking and my sheets are damp with sweat. I feel my hair sticking to my face. I feel my heart slowly calm down as I mull over the dream. I look over to check the time and see I have an hour to get myself and chase ready, and drop him off before class starts. I jump out of bed and take a quick shower. By the time I reach the school doors, the final bell is ringing I race to the class and just barely make it. The new homeroom teacher comes in right behind me and I notice Eva at the back of the class talking to Marty, a member of our small crew . I make my way towards her and collapse into my chair. She turns towards me and looks me over. "Do I wanna ask?" "Don't" I bite off. She shares a questioning glance with Marty no doubt wondering what had gotten into me. I'm usually much more even tempered. "Well, just so you know, you've got eye bags the size of texas and your shirt is inside out." I look down and see she's telling the truth. I would have to fix that after class. This day just seemed to be getting worse.

I quickly made my way to the girls bathroom and flipped my shirt the right-side-out. I splashed some cold water on my face for good measure. I tried to calm my heartbeat as my reflection stared back at me. Something about my face seemed different. Maybe It was that I was finally starting to find myself. For the longest time after I was found, I would walk around in a daze. I had to rediscover myself- the foods I ate, the activities I enjoyed,  the settings I was most comfortable in. Everything was so confusing.  My head started pounding suddenly. I clutched my head but it didn't seem to make any difference.  In fact, it was getting worse. I suddenly heard a squealing noise all around me. I fell to the floor in a heap. Everything fell silent. The headache had left as quickly as it had come. I stood up slowly, worried that it might come back. That was odd.  Maybe I should go back to the hospital and get a check up.  My appointment wasn't for another month, but better safe than sorry. I turned to leave but something in the mirror caught my eye. I gasped. Around my pupil was a ring of gold. I blinked. Nope, still there. Maybe my head injury somehow caused my eyes to change colour. I leaned in closer and noticed that the gold was flashing brighter. I definitely had to go see my doctor.  I turned around to leave for the second time and crashed into a hard form. I hadn't heard anyone come in. I hoped they hadn't witnessed the scene that had ocurred a moment ago. "Sorry,  I-" My words faltered.  In front of me was the boy I had dreamed about. The one I thought I saw yesterday. "Miss me?" He said, in a deep rich voice that brought shivers down my spine.

#bts v #fanfic #romance #comedy

[allabouttoys]

New Post has been published on All About Toys

New Post has been published on http://allabouttoys.info/391-2/

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

No company was closer to being a trash fire in the past year than Samsung. There were the exploding Note7 batteries, then the exploding Note7 battery replacements, then the exploding washing machines, and then, finally, the exploding Samsung battery factory.

Needless to say, the Korean conglomerate, which recently lost its #1 smartphone maker ranking to Apple for the first time in eight quarters, is looking for a win.

Enter the Galaxy S8, the headliner of Samsung’s Redemption Tour.

During my five days of testing, the Galaxy S8 did not catch fire. In fact, the S8 turned out to be exactly what I had expected after my first hands-on: a gorgeous device with great technology inside. Samsung crammed as much screen into this phone as possible. The Galaxy S8 hardware is 83% glass slab and 17% everything else — and it has all the promise of an iPhone/Pixel killer.

The only problem? Like all Samsung phones, it’s pre-loaded with redundant apps and features you don't need. And, though the Galaxy S8 ships with the latest version of Android (7.0 Nougat), eventually the phone will be about five months behind Google’s future operating system updates.

All that aside, the S8 is a *really* good phone, and Samsung devotees with contract renewals coming up are going to want to upgrade ASAP. But those looking to switch will have a lot more to consider.

There’s nothing else on the Android market quite like it.

If you’re looking to get a new high-end Android phone right now, here are the three phones I think you should be considering: the Google Pixel, the LG G6, and the Galaxy S8. (For the purposes of this review, I’m not looking at Motorola, Sony, HTC, or Huawei. Don’t @ me.)

Aesthetically, it’s clear which one is the standout: the Galaxy S8. In my initial review, I loved everything about the Pixel, except its uninspired hardware design. LG’s G6 and its small, display-maximizing borders are, in many ways, similar to the Galaxy S8, but it’s a heavy phone that feels bulky.

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

The S8, on the other hand, is wrapped in a slick, polished case. This is especially true of “Midnight Black.” It is Posh Spice wearing an all-leather catsuit and Samsung's other color offerings (“Arctic Silver” and the purplish “Orchid Gray”) pale in comparison. The S8 looks modern and clean, and you’d be hard-pressed to find another Android phone with its looks.

The mind-bogglingly good edge-to-edge wraparound display is crisp and saturated, which we've come to expect from Samsung. The blacks are extra dark and text appears sharp, pixel-less. The display bleeds into the surrounding hardware, and it’s hard to tell where the screen ends and the phone begins.

The only “bezel” is a centimeter-ish border at the top and bottom. There are no physical buttons on the front of the phone, just a pressure-sensitive, virtual home button area. Every other leading Android phone maker has already removed the home button, and Samsung finally followed suit. To maximize the immersive screen experience, the home button is sometimes invisible (like when you’re watching a video full-screen or playing a game) and you can simply press down on the bottom of the screen to return to the main page.

These screens are huge. There are two models: the S8 with a 5.8-inch display and an S8+ with a 6.2-inch display; both are at 2,960×1,440 resolution. The viewing area has been increased by 36% from the previous versions, the S7 and S7 Edge.

But it doesn’t feel like you’re toting around a mini tablet. The nearly half a million extra pixels were added to the S8’s height, and its edges are curved on all four sides, so the phone is surprisingly grabbable.

The curved edges do, however, make texting with two hands in portrait feel a little cramped. When turned on its side, the phone is too wide for my hands to reach the keys in the middle. Perhaps big-handed users will have better luck.

It’s a very tall phone (nearly 6 inches for the S8 and slightly over 6 inches for the S8+), so enabling the phone’s “one-handed mode” has proven very useful for me. You can swipe your thumb diagonally from either bottom corner to use a mini, more manageable version of the software. Although, my frequent use of this feature reveals that perhaps I don’t need a big screen at all?!?!

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

Apparently the S8 is “mobile HDR premium certified,” which means that when you watch shows or movies, you see the same colors and contrasts “that filmmakers intended,” according to Samsung. So I did what any other reviewer would do “for journalism”: I bought the Planet Earth II “Mountains” episode and poured myself a glass (or three) of wine (spoiler alert: ibex goats are badass AF). The display is very bright and vibrant — good for getting into Planet Earth, but ultimately worrisome because I fear it will eventually burn my eyeballs to a crisp.

The S8 is 83% screen, so it’s only fitting that this review is also almost 83% about the screen. Here comes the other 17%.

I tried my hardest to trick the S8’s face recognition unlock, but to no avail.

Reports that Samsung’s face recognition technology had been defeated with a photo surfaced last month. I tried to replicate this with a printed-out photo, with a photo onscreen, and with a Photobooth video of me staring at the camera and blinking. The phone was unfazed. I will never be a hacker.

Trickery aside, face recognition is more a matter of convenience than security. It makes up for the awkwardly placed fingerprint sensor and I found myself relying on it quite a bit.

The fingerprint sensor has moved to the back, much to my chagrin.

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

The fingerprint unlock feature has traditionally been programmed into the device’s home button. Seeing as the S8 ditched the button, it’s now on the back of the phone. The S8’s fingerprint sensor and the camera feel basically the same, which means I kept smudging the camera lens and unlocking the phone at the same time. It’s really too bad because, minus the finger smears, the camera is quite good.

Speaking of the camera, it’s the same as the Note7’s and the Galaxy S7 before it.

The phone’s rear camera hasn’t changed. It’s a 12MP lens with f/1.7 aperture, and it notably does not have the “dual lens” setup (a camera with two lenses) that Apple, LG, and Huawei introduced with their most recent flagship devices. But I didn’t really miss it in the S8.

Samsung likes to tout its primary camera’s low-light capabilities and fast auto-focus, even with motion. At full zoom, it handled capturing this surfer fairly well (in the rain!):

And this darting newt:

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

And this amazing lemon poppyseed bundt cake my friend Lauren made:

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

The real news is the S8’s upgraded front-facing camera, which is now 8MP (up from 7MP in the Note7) with the same f/1.7 aperture. Here’s an unedited Samsung selfie:

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

And an iPhone’s (the iPhone’s camera is just 7 megapixels):

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

The main difference is that, because it’s a higher-resolution image, you can zoom in more on the Samsung selfie. I've showed these photos to multiple people — and votes are split right down the middle. The look of a photo is ultimately a matter of preference and I will let you, Internet, be the final judge.

There are also new Snapchat-style stickers built-in, which…sigh.

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

Bixby, the S8’s artificially intelligent assistant, is kind of…dumb right now.

Samsung created its own version of Alexa, Siri, and Google Assistant. It’s called Bixby, and it’s really an umbrella term for three different “intelligent” features: computer vision/image recognition software, a voice-enabled assistant, and a namesake app called Bixby that shows you different personalized “cards” that offer information like weather and upcoming flights (essentially this Google app feature).

Bixby Voice What makes Bixby different from other assistants is that anything you can do on your phone with touch, it can allegedly do it with your voice instead. You can say things like, “Set display brightness to maximum” and more contextual requests like, “Rotate this photo to the left.” Unfortunately, Bixby Voice doesn’t launch until later this spring and I didn’t get to test it out myself.

Bixby Vision I was, however, able to try Bixby’s vision recognition software, which uses the phone’s camera to “see.” For example, you can hold up a QR code and Bixby can take you directly to the link, or you can scan a business card and Bixby will isolate the text, then automatically add a contact from the camera app. It does those two things perfectly fine, but it’s not exactly groundbreaking tech. There are plenty of apps that can do the same thing.

One of the seemingly cooler features is being able to point your camera at a piece of furniture or clothing so Bixby can use use Pinterest-powered computer vision to find out where to buy it. I was excited to try this and hoped it would eliminate “where did you get that” small talk with more stylish ladyfriends.

Nicole Nguyen / BuzzFeed News

But when I tried it out (on my boyfriend’s white Adidas shoes and a pair of amazing culottes), Bixby showed me Amazon results that matched the general shape/generic version of what I was trying to search for — and nothing else. In fact, for the culottes, Google reverse image search fared much better and found a Pinterest pin with the specific brand in the description (they are Oak+Fort, btw). I then tried taking a pic of the pin with the hopes that the Pinterest-powered software would pick it up. Nada.

Bixby Vision results are like asking your mom for a custom American Girl doll that’s designed to look just like you, and getting a Secret Hero Mulan from a KB Toys closeout sale instead.

Bixby App I didn’t find the Bixby app too helpful. It showed me details for an upcoming flight and the week’s weather, plus trending topics on Facebook, which was cool. There was a random puppy napping GIF from Giphy as well, though I’m not sure if that was personalized content.

Right now, it’s hard to assess whether Bixby is a success, because so much of the technology is still in development. As it stands, Bixby is a gimmick that’s fun for showing off to friends but not smart enough to actually be useful. Plus, Google Assistant, which ALSO comes with the S8, can do just about everything Bixby can do and then some.

The battery didn’t explode.

The 3,000 mAh battery in the S8, the version I tested rigorously, performed well. The phone, as I’ve previously mentioned, is all screen, so it isn’t surprising that the display was my #1 battery suck for three days in a row.

The phone’s battery takes about an hour and 40 minutes to fully charge via USB-C cable, and has lasted me about a day and a half on average. This is with reading articles in an hour-long round-trip commute, watching 30-minute videos, followed by 30 minutes of gameplay, and with the usual slew of Facebook and email notifications enabled. Batteries, of course, decay over time, so I’m not sure how long that’ll last. I’ll update this review if that changes.

It feels fast enough.

The Galaxy S8 is the first device to ship with the newest Qualcomm processor: the Snapdragon 835, which is faster than its predecessor (the Snapdragon 820) but uses less power than other chips. The phone felt zippy during this first week of testing, but, like batteries, its processor will decay over time.

I played Super Mario Run, a casual sidescroller, and CSR Racing 2, a 3D graphics-intensive racer, a LOT during the testing period. They played smoothly and didn’t significantly drain the battery.

The processor is apparently robust enough to power a computer, using the new Samsung Dex portable dock accessory (price TBD) that can be hooked up to a monitor, keyboard, and mouse. The dock essentially turns the phone into an instant, lightweight Chromebook — in the demo I saw, the phone ran two apps simultaneously. I didn’t get to test the Dex out either, but once I do, I’ll update this review.

And now, a rant.

As gorgeous as the hardware is, the S8 is a Samsung phone, and I can’t review this device without noting this disclaimer: Samsung phones are (still) filled with so much crap. Samsung’s OS (called “TouchWiz”) looks cleaner than ever before, and it’s getting better. But it remains full of bloatware.

For example, I tested a T-Mobile version of the device. Right off the bat, there are four T-Mobile apps on the homescreen that I’ll likely never use, including “T-Mobile TV.” Then there are Samsung apps, like the mobile browser aptly named “Internet,”plus the Google versions of those exact same apps, like Chrome, already installed. There’s Android Pay, and Samsung Pay. There’s Gallery, and Google Photos.

Then there are Galaxy apps (which are apps made by Samsung or special “themes” to customize how your phone looks), in addition to apps you choose to download from the Google Play Store. There’s a dedicated side button for Bixby Voice, and OK Google can be activated by longpressing the home button. It’s a hot mess.

All of this is pre-loaded on the phone — and I know it can be removed from the home screen or uninstalled, but…ugh!

Samsung deeply alters the Android experience, down to the way windows scroll in the app switcher. You’ll see on the Pixel that there’s a smooth, continuous scroll and on the S8, a clunkier unit scroll.

Read More

[fangirlmania95-blog]

fallacies CH#2

Maybe it was because of the dark thoughts I had before bed, but I found myself being pulled into a restless sleep. Dark shapes seemed to be forming around me. The world looked to be cast in shadows. I looked ahead and found myself facing a tree. That was strange. I looked around and noticed I was in a forest. It seemed eerily familiar. I felt myself being watched. I heard a branch snap behind me and I started running. I didn't know why. All I knew was that if I was caught I would die. I kept running for what seemed like hours until it felt as though my heart would burst. Running becomes harder. My legs heavier. I look down and see my shoes sinking into the ground which is now covered in black sludge. I feel myself going in deeper. When I feel my legs are unable to move and are completely locked, I hear the cawing of a crow. I look up and sure enough, there it is, on the lowest branch of the tree ahead of me. It stares at me with its beedy eyes, looking as if it were trying to tell me something. As I stare back, I feel something heating the skin above my chest until I feel as though it would burn me. I look down and there is my locket, glowing in a deep shade of gold. I take it off and open it to find a dagger with a hilt in the shape of a winged angel. Even in this dream I feel I am going crazy. How is it physically possible to pull a fifteen centimeter dagger from a two-inch locket. Well then again, this was a dream. The dagger seemes to be a part of me. And surprisingly I know exactly what to do with it. I push myself deeper into the sludge, until I'm completely submerged from the waist down, and I raise the dagger above my head then bring it down swiftly, stabbing the goo-like-substance. The earth around me seems to solidify once again and I easily pull myself from it. The crow above gives a final caw and flies away. I feel the monster behind me now, closer than ever. I have to go now! I start running again and to my relief, I find a small shack at the end of the path. I throw myself at the door, frantic now. "Open the door, please, you have to help me!" I continue banging with all my might. If she gets to me he's doomed. Its all my fault! It's all my fault! The door is wrenched open but no one is behind it. All I see is darkness. Then, a tall figure comes forward and I stop breathing. Its the boy from before. But he seems different. His hair is longer. Almost past his shoulders. Now that I'm at a closer range, I notice that he's taller than me. He must be above six feet. "You didn't think you would get away, did you? " he asks. His eyes are filled with fury. I notice that he's holding onto the hilt of a sword attached to his belt. I hear someone come up from behind me and I know I'm dead. The world becomes pitch black. My heart starts pounding. I can't see anything. I'm all alone. I look around frantically and see in the distance, a pair of blood red eyes- and no, not just the irises. The whole eye is a sickening shade of red . I hear husky female laughter from a distance. My whole body fills with despair. Its over. I've failed.

I wake up with a start. My whole body is shaking and my sheets are damp with sweat. I feel my hair sticking to my face. I feel my heart slowly calm down as I mull over the dream. I look over to check the time and see I have an hour to get myself and chase ready, and drop him off before class starts. I jump out of bed and take a quick shower. By the time I reach the school doors, the final bell is ringing I race to the class and just barely make it. The new homeroom teacher comes in right behind me and I notice Eva at the back of the class talking to Marty, a member of our small crew . I make my way towards her and collapse into my chair. She turns towards me and looks me over. "Do I wanna ask?" "Don't" I bite off. She shares a questioning glance with Marty no doubt wondering what had gotten into me. I'm usually much more even tempered. "Well, just so you know, you've got eye bags the size of texas and your shirt is inside out." I look down and see she's telling the truth. I would have to fix that after class. This day just seemed to be getting worse.

I quickly made my way to the girls bathroom and flipped my shirt the right-side-out. I splashed some cold water on my face for good measure. I tried to calm my heartbeat as my reflection stared back at me. Something about my face seemed different. Maybe It was that I was finally starting to find myself. For the longest time after I was found, I would walk around in a daze. I had to rediscover myself- the foods I ate, the activities I enjoyed,  the settings I was most comfortable in. Everything was so confusing.  My head started pounding suddenly. I clutched my head but it didn't seem to make any difference.  In fact, it was getting worse. I suddenly heard a squealing noise all around me. I fell to the floor in a heap. Everything fell silent. The headache had left as quickly as it had come. I stood up slowly, worried that it might come back. That was odd.  Maybe I should go back to the hospital and get a check up.  My appointment wasn't for another month, but better safe than sorry. I turned to leave but something in the mirror caught my eye. I gasped. Around my pupil was a ring of gold. I blinked. Nope, still there. Maybe my head injury somehow caused my eyes to change colour. I leaned in closer and noticed that the gold was flashing brighter. I definitely had to go see my doctor.  I turned around to leave for the second time and crashed into a hard form. I hadn't heard anyone come in. I hoped they hadn't witnessed the scene that had ocurred a moment ago. "Sorry,  I-" My words faltered.  In front of me was the boy I had dreamed about. The one I thought I saw yesterday. "Miss me?" He said, in a deep rich voice that brought shivers down my spine.