#fistworks

[aylamoenwyb]

Prompt #12: Fingers Crossed

(Ayla)

A knock was heard on Sivir’s Apartment door.  The one leading to the outside. “Special Moogle Delivery!  For a Miss...ah hells, dropped the card...one moment.  A Miss Ka'vaul?  I think I said it right... Knock knock!  Wakey Wakey!”

When she opened the door, he’d flutter by her and with a soft huff place a carefully wrapped package on her table. “Enjoy your day!  Maybe pick up some of the panties and socks on the floor! Or a bottle or two.  Or at least share!”  The flying ball of fur, quickly darting and dodging around her, his little mail pouch almost clipping her against her head on his way out.

Left alone in her basement apartment, she could now note it was wrapped carefully in red paper with pink lotus blossoms upon it and tied with black silk ribbons.  A card in ayla’s delicate handwriting tucked under the ribbons.

My dearest Sivir,

The gift is from me, but with love and affection from Kuro as well. 

Love Ayla and Kuro

When she unwrapped the package, on top, she’d find a carefully crafted golden bracelet. It was smooth and about a thumb wide, and would fit close to the hand like a small cuff, but it had etchings and gems laid within it.  A rising sun in red gems interlocking with a moon in pale blue, both protected by a sun setting and seeming to embrace over both of them done in black.  A simple note attached to it, again written in Ayla’s hand,  

I know a ring is more traditional but I worried with your fancy fistwork that such a token might get in the way.  There are two bracelets identical to this one made to share with you.

But below it, was her true gift.  Folded carefully under the bracelet to at first look more like a blanket than an article of clothes was a long silk dress, not much different in cut and style that those the feisty red head often wore as ‘battle attire’.  It’s color, a soft flushed pink.  But decorating the side slits and up the side of the dress were lotus flowers and embroidery stitches that matched the paper the gift was wrapped in, just swapping the pink lotus’s for red and the black dancing in fancy curved stitches around them.  The collar and buttons too were of the same black.  

Remember long ago you said that if anyone ever asked you to marry them, you’d wear pink? 

Well?  

Will you wear pink for me?

Love, Ayla  

With Kuro’s approval and blessing.

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast  @captainkurosolaire

[izatrini]

FistWorks Live–Music at Roger Williams Park Concert Series Continues with Etienne Charles - Rhode Island Monthly http://dlvr.it/S5fBQZ

[fictionerd]

A little fore-word since I’m throwing this out there, it’s a pretty big wall of text, and I need something to put before the “Keep Reading” Tag. As some of you may know I’ve been following and reblogging from @colonel-crapshot. He’s a friend of mine from off the site and after one of his more recent posts I suggested we work together to create a Fictionerd vs Challenger short based on a character he’s had going in our inner circle for a while now. He’s a lot better at writing action than me, so if you like the descriptions of the fight you can place that squarely at his feet. Go give his blog a look. I’m sure you’ll find something there to be amused by. Now, without further ado: What Fictionerd was doing while Monika and Robin recapped the last two shows.

In a reality bubble, somewhere amidst the dimensional cobweb of the multiverse. A man tumbles in, “Another unfair fate, successfully challenged. Now to go home for tea time,” he muses grabbing a hold of a phantom zip pull before “unzipping” a new tear, presumably to his ‘tea time’

”YOU!” a voice booms forth from the zipper.

”Me?” came reflexive sass before a hand lunged through and ripped him into a different dimensional bubble. Our stranger dusts himself off before encountering a particularly irate gentleman wearing a wing patterned jacket, the one you all may be familiar with as the Fictionerd.

”So you’re the one who keeps fucking with the continuity of my chronicles!” accusations flying with equal portions of spittle.

”And?” came a conditioned response. The stranger was almost callously used to such criticism, not that it was untrue mind.

“You really ought to keep your mitts off other people’s things. It’s a real headache trying to separate your sickening tangents from the actual world lines,” he said. Fangs almost noticeably elongating from his canines, his eyes pupils becoming vertically slanted alongside a scaly eyeshadow like development.

“No! I’m not gonna sit around whilst Fate shits down the throats of the undeserving!”

”And YOU’RE the fucker who gets to decide that?! Sometimes shit sucks for a reason. You have no right to change that on your own account. It’s THEIR world. THEY have that right, not YOU.”

Canines began receding back to normal human length and flatness alongside his other features. The man had made his point and clearly expected this rather basic looking human to yield to his desire and to an extent his logic.

”So you’d have me sit aside and not change what I can?! NOT DO MY BEST TO HELP THOSE WHO REQUIRE IT? DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING GO?!” A piano crashed neatly upon the strangers head, with the ideal sound of crashing percussion strings ringing out its first and yet final crescendo before being lost amidst the sound of breaking wood.

”I needn’t have to.” the Fictionerd said triumphantly, beginning his walk back to the podium upon which his book normally resides. A crack resounded through the tiny yet infinite dimensional space, the crack of a piano pedal meeting a remarkably human like skull.

”YOU THINK A SODDING LOONEY TOONS PIANO WOULD STOP ME?! I’M THE CHALLENGER OF FUCKING FATE! SO LET’S THROW DOWN WILE E. COYOTE!” shock was visible upon the Fictionerd’s face before a wry smile replaced it.

”Meep meep.” he said before running off. The dimension gained scenery as he scarpered, that of a house with many doors and winding corridors. Spiral stair cases and large lounges full of furniture. The Challenger charged down the first corridor, catching glimpses of the Fictionerd flipping through his book as things fell out. Marbles and jacks, using basic geometry the Challenger sought to barrel through the door in front of him and careen through the successive walls until he appeared alongside his prey. The door gave with the ease expected, only for find himself in a corridor that shouldn’t logically exist there.

”What’s the matter, ‘Challenger’? Not enjoying the game?”

”WHAT ARE YOU? SOME KIND OF POUND STORE VENTRILOQUIST PUPPET?! IT EXPLAINS THE OBJECT UP YOUR ASS!”

”No matter what you say it’s just empty words. You can never escape from my corridor of-” the Fictionerd’s sentence was cut off by the sound of destroyed drywall with a subtle undertone of dimensional tearing.

”What?!” he’d layered in all sorts of multi-dimensional protections to prevent even the most advanced dimension hoppers escape. This dimension was entirely set up to just keep problem children like this Challenger running around until they died or cried uncle. At that point he would undo the macro from the Akashic Record of Fiction and tidy up. The time he had to ponder how such a protection was undone was short though, for he found a hand nailed to his throat as they stood once again in the null void of the dimensional sub-space.

”Now, I just wanna go home and enjoy my bloody tea. So if you can agree to-” the Challenger suddenly felt the presence of scales beneath his hand and slightly less suddenly a scaled fist planting into his face.

Fictionerd took a quick gasp for breath whilst the Challenger stood with his head staring upwards.

”I guess that’s what I get for underestimating you. The amount of multiversal trouble you’ve caused in the Akashic Record should have been testament to your ability. So congrats, you’ve convinced me to unleash my true draconic strength. Shounen enough for you Mr. Challenger of Fate?”

The Challenger’s head snapped to attention and his eyes focused, blood dripping from a split lip and a wild smile on his face.

“Somebody finally grew some nuts, eh? BRING IT THE HELL ON!” and like that they were off. A swift right flew towards Fic’s face, he scaled the zone of impact before the Challenger’s body rocked back. The foot he was stepping forward with slung backwards as his left fist flew into Fic’s gut. The impact wasn’t clean however. In the stall between the initial lessened impact and the more precisely aimed follow through Fic’s wings flared from his jacket and swelled to a more appropriate size. They propelled him into the air to prevent the winding blow the Challenger aimed for. Not about to let the flow of battle be turned on him, the Challenger jumped in pursuit. Readying another right fist attack. Fictionerd assessed his opponent in the brief second before the Challenger reached striking distance. If he had the ability to fly he would have used it by now to drive another speedy blow in. Alternately this could be another ploy for some fancy aerial fistwork. Though if it were to be fancy fistwork, then Fic would answer in kind!

He threw a right hook, intending to meet the Challenger’s blow head on. The clash resounded throughout the space before both parties were thrown backwards from the point of impact. The Challenger landed squarely, kicking up a fair dust cloud and breaking what constituted this dimensions ground into craters beneath him. Fictionerd stared down with ever more Draconic eyes before looking at his scaled hand, the knuckles of which were in the process of regrowing the scales that had been blasted off by the traded blow. The Challenger’s knuckles were also scuffed from their contact, but no worse off than Fic’s own. The Fictionerd decided he’d use this moment to turn the battle around. Fic swooped in and grabbed the Challenger before raising him high into his pocket dimension’s “roof”. The scenery changed around him, and it shifted to a more urban landscape before he moved to pile drive the Challenger into the freshly realised tarmac.

While the two combatants struggled in the open air, a strange light-blue creature stepped out onto the roof a nearby building. Sitting in the middle of the roof in a reclining lawn chair with a sunbrella and a tropical-looking drink was a young lady with long orange hair wearing what appeared to be a school uniform.

“Nya nya’s nyanya nyaing nya nyanyanya nya?” asked the strange blue creature who resembled a Care Bear’s over-buff cousin.

“Translate, Robin, I can’t understand you.

“Woops! I said ‘So he’s really fighting that Challenger guy?” Robin repeated in English(?).

“Yeah, looks like he’s going for a-”

“PILE DRIVER! Monika! He’s going for a PILE DRIVER!” Robin shouted excitedly a bit of his normal ‘nya’ speech bleeding through.

“Yup, that’s what I was going to say,” Monika muttered under her breath returning to her drink and pulling a book of poetry out of one of her uniform’s pockets.

Back at the fight: Impact loomed but the Challenger seemed unfazed, this would have puzzled Fictionerd had it not been for a chunk of tarmac flung loose from Challenger punching the ground before his skull could impact it similarly. The chunk of Ass-phalt crashed against Fic’s rapidly scaling head. Protected as he was from a death by tarmac, it hit him before he’d fully grown the scales and as such rang his bells. Deftly using his new grounding and a loosening grip the Challenger planted his second hand on the ground, kicking the rest of his body free of Fic’s grip he rolled around on his shoulder tucking himself in before exploding back out at the 270 degree mark pushing himself up from the ground to deliver a devastating kick to Fic’s chin, sending him on an uncontrolled flight before crashing into a streetside tree. Keeping his momentum Challenger landed and began to charge Fic’s limp form in the tree. Challenger jumped to find it was but a ruse! Fictionerd had taken a huge branch from the tree and smashed Challenger with it like a home run!

”You know… this is getting ridiculous. You shouldn’t be this hard to contain!” Fictionerd shouted, his breath laboured.

”What’s the matter? Gettin’ tired on me?!” Challenger boasted, his own breathing not exactly in the smoothest of orders either.

“Fine. I’ll pull out all the stops. Prepare to face the might of my true draconic form!” You’d think there would be more ceremony and bone cracking involved in suddenly growing to be hundreds of feet long, fully decked out in grey scales and rocking wings that would make a similarly sized Albatross weep in shame. The Challenger stood for a moment, Fictionerd had the closest thing a Dragon could hope to call a smirk on his now significantly bigger face.

”Awestruck?”

”You know? When I woke up this morning, I didn’t really have this in mind. But now that I’m here… COME AT ME YOU GLORIFIED FUCKING DINOSAUR!” and come he did. “Bring it on you jumped-up plot cul-de-sac!” Came Fic’s telepathic reply as he swooped down and let forth a ferocious roar before being clocked in the snout by a well-placed fist.

“Bop. Naughty.” A second fist replaced the presence of the first sending Fic’s head, and the rest of him, flying backwards. Fictionerd used his wings to re-orient and lessen the chances of his own spine being added to the list of enemies he had to face currently. Draconic instincts would only spell doom against this one, he should have known that well enough from the fist fight prior. He took to the sky, it was time to utilise his Book’s power and the might of his Draconic magic to a greater extent. One he couldn’t hope to handle whilst maintaining even his hybrid form.

”Fictional Bombardment!” He called. A mocking snort could be heard from the ground before attacks from all varieties of ‘Fictional’ media tore through the veil of this space, indiscriminately. All pulled from the many fractured timelines of the ‘Franchises’ he had experienced through his book. All of it raining from the centre of the circle he had created with his body, he COULD create something like this in one of his lesser forms. But that carried severe risk of overloading the less magically dense bodies of his human or hybrid forms. The rain came. Magical firestorms of fantasy wizards shared space with the forward cannons of Sci-Fi battleships. Anime energy waves cascading alongside more conventional weapon-fire. If it was an attack in a work of fiction he made use of it.

Fictionerd had since stopped listening to the sounds from the ground, all it seemed to be was a cacophony of explosions, lasers, and screaming. Something whizzed past his view and into the circle. Tiny fool thought he could maybe cancel it out? Whilst not the Fictionerd’s ULTIMATE attack by any stretch, it was a fearsome one and deathly hard to cancel given the sheer multitude and variety of attacks that would need to be countered. Yet another errant item flew by, probably one of the latest random attacks to be let through the gate. Where were we? Ah yes, one would need something like an Anti-fortress noble phantasm to have any hope of stopping it.

Light gathered from all around and began coalescing upon a point. Fictionerd recognised this attack, it’d be funny if this rather evidently British man was done in by the sword of his One and True King Arthur.

“EX-” that did not sound like any of the incarnations of Fate’s Saber Fictionerd knew and then he realized the attack was coalescing from the ground, not the portal, ”CALIBUR!” Golden light ripped through the scenery and holy magic seared Fictionerd’s scales whilst simultaneously destroying the gate of Fictional Bombardment. A violent gust of wind could be felt and then a madman could be seen with a golden sword disintegrating in one hand, and a fractal weapon resembling a sword clutched in the other.

“FORM: CRUSHER!” the fractal of images held in the Challenger’s hand shifted into a huge array that looked like a hammer.

“HIKARI NI NARE!” he bellowed as he leapt smiting Fictionerd from the sky. This light did not sear like holy magic but seemed to fundamentally re-write the properties of what it touched into light energy. Luckily he didn’t touch it long enough for it to get to work on anything that wouldn’t grow back.

With the Challenger closing in with that weapon, maybe it was the time for ‘That’. Hell, had pride not blinded him, Fic might have resorted to THAT earlier. Red light began pouring out of the gaps in Fictionerd’s scales. Starting at his tail and progressing towards his head. Illuminating him in a red aura.

“Insincere as it may sound. I never meant to try and kill you! Only to stop your interference with my stories.” the light reached a fever pitch and began showing in his maw.

“That don’t look good.”

”AKASHIC SEAL!” a beam of red energy leapt forward and began snaking around the Challenger, his giant hammer like fractal construct receded immediately.

“I hope you will come to forgive me. Though that day may never come depending on how far the seal has to go to contain you.”

“A SEAL, EH?! I CHALLENGE IT!” he declared before the snaking threads of the ‘beam’ wove a sphere around him, trapping him inside and out of sight.

“Struggle all you wish.” It didn’t change the nature of the seal. It used the records of fiction to rummage inside the targets mind and find the prison most suited to them. A prison of comfort from which they would never WANT to escape. The most isolated cell at the heart of a dying star. The sex dungeon of a particularly unhygienic person of the preferred or not so preferred gender. Anything was possible inside the seal. That is, except for escape.

The sounds of slashing occurred, a never ending battle field? The sound of palms against wood and Objections? Interesting addition to the scenario, but one would expect nothing less to seal such a troublemaker. Fictionerd stopped avidly listening when he heard the words “Combat fucking” being used to describe one of the scenarios. Then silence reigned. It was probably better this way, trapped inside a Fictional reality he could at least live his life out… albeit in varying degrees of comfort. Rather than just starve to death in a maze hall.

Fictionerd assumed his human form once again, breathing a sigh of relief. He opened the book and it readily accepted the energy mass back into itself.

“I hope your Seal is at least comfortable. It pains me to think of the dread possibilities that might be necessary for your confinement.” he said with a sad and exhausted tone.

”Not as much as this will I bet.” Came a familiar voice from behind Fictionerd.

“Wha-” The only thing the Fictionerd caught a glimpse of was the image of a fractal Gauntlet before he was sent hurtling across the rapidly disappearing urban setting and into his podium. The strength seeped out of him. He didn’t have anything else up his sleeve.

”Go on then, end it.” he said with resignation

“I will.” the Challenger snatched the book from Fictionerd, and Fic tensed. Expecting to be run through with a blade. Not expecting a conk on the head from a hardback book with some new writing on it.

”Contents not the exclusive property of Fictionerd?” he read aloud.

”There, get that stuck in your scaly ass brain. Round 2 might get messier if you don’t.”

”But… what? How did you even get out of the seal?!”

”Fateless.” Challenger said as he brandished the Fractal blade. “I just kept cutting until I got out. Helped a bunch of people on the way, helped myself a little too.”

“But what about me?!”

”I’ll come by and say Hi if I’m in the neighbourhood.”

”Aren’t you angry?!”

”Oh cram it. The only angry I am with you is as angry as I would be with anyone for making me late for dinner. I’ll have to MICROWAVE it now. It’s not gonna be NEARLY as good!”

Fictionerd could only balk at how little this man seemed to care that he engaged in reality warping warfare and his main priority was his ever cooling dinner.

“Hold up,” said a resurfacing Monika as she stepped through what appeared to be the sliding door of a Japanese classroom. Robin followed close behind him.

“Guests? Or Round 2 already?” Challenger asked propping his fractal blade against his shoulder.

“First off, rude! Not everyone in this library is a greed-blinded dragon. Second time and space in your native world mean nothing here. We could spend the next week having a deep philosophical conversation and our scaley friend could still get you back before your food was done cooking.”

“Uhm, that’s technically not true. I mean I could, but it’s really difficult to work against timefl-”

“I don’t wanna hear it you big, scaley baby. You threw a tantrum and dragged this guy into your own personal world to fuck with him and possibly trap him for an eternity. The least you can do is send him home to a hot meal.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Fictionerd squeaked.

“As I was saying! Third, the story-miser here has a point about your actions. As I understand it you’ve just been jumping in and spinning off timelines as and when you wish.” Monika said.

“And what’s wrong with standing up for-” Challenger… challenged. Monika just stepped on his line.

“THAT’S some dangerous stuff, and just because you can apparently bend all of reality over your knee and give it a good thrashing doesn’t give you the right to do whatever you want. Sometimes hardship is necessary to learn. YOU aren’t the sole arbiter of what is and isn’t ‘Fair’.”

“You tell him, Monika!” Fictionerd said looking particularly pathetic.

“Robin, do what we discussed to our ‘host’.” Monika said sweetly. The buff blue bear thing grabbed Fictionerd from behind and started giving him the most colossal of noogies with one hammy fist.

“No matter what you say all I’m hearing is ‘I want to fucking GO!’, Lady. You’ve got fifteen words or less to convince me I’m doing something wrong.”

“Fictionerd saved me from an ‘unfair fate’.” She smirked. Challenger lifted a single eyebrow.

“Go on.”

“Dunno if you recognize me, but I’m a copy of a character from a visual novel. It was my fate to spend eternity deleted after some particularly selfish acts on my part. However, Fic decided that ending wasn’t something he wished to enforce on a character, so he brought a copy of me here to the metaverse,” Monika elaborated, “He’s no different from you that way. He’s just more conservative in his methods. Problem is he’s also a freaking Dragon and he sees the Akashic Record of Fiction as his ultimate and perfect Horde. So the messes he’s seen you cause paired with a dragon’s natural greed and jealousy made him act like a moron.”

Challenger folded his arms over his chest, “So what do you want me to do?”

“Work something out with Fic. By the time Robin is done with him he should be cooled off enough to express himself more civilly. In the meantime,” Monika held out a hand and squinted in concentration. The sliding door appeared once more and opened onto a scene familiar to Challenger. It was his kitchen and there was a hot plate of food and cup of tea waiting for him. The effort of bending time and space was obviously proving difficult for Monika, “Still not used to manipulating this reality. The background structure isn’t as simple as a video game’s. I trust you’ll be able to find your way back when you’re done?”

Her struggling expression and heartfelt plea was somewhat undercut by the image in the background of Robin giving Fictionerd a nuclear wedgie.

[ladyarjuna]

precognitiveignition:

ladyarjuna:

Smol had just reached the top of the vortex, and was about to dive through the eye wall, when the vortex started to glow. “FUCK–” 

While the Flame wasn’t quite enough yet to fully disrupt the vortex, in fact only increasing the updraft, the only way to attack Jack was cut off, which could only mean she was about to strike. 

The only way out now was through. 

Cutting through a fireball with sheer air pressure is dicey at best and requires precision and power. And as Smol was diving towards jack, she was a little short on both. Too soon and the ball would just close up. Too late and it won’t part fast enough at the speeds they were going to allow her passage. 

Hikari could break the flame apart into its various spectra but– No, no Stando horseshit. Do this clean or take your lumps. 

Smol made the cut. 

– No, not quite. But contact burns and scorched clothing were a small price to pay for not roasting and ready with her back fist for a solid hit to the shoulder. 

Beacon, already at her limits, dropped the trap with a frustrated growl. She’d almost hurt herself but with a moment to recover she could maybe get another spell going. Come on. Don’t give out on me yet!

The one problem with being surrounded entirely with fire - fire being a hell of a bright thing - was that the whole fireball blitz left Jack completely and utterly without any way of seeing.  Not that all fire breaking loose was much different than riding the eye of the storm, but the solid whallop to her upper body sent her body-missile spiralling wildly out of control.  Dammit, did Kerry really have to hit the same arm twice?  Ow.

Jack’s surround-sound fireball whirling about like a punctured pressure tank was something of a sight, but it quickly explodes as Jack tries to blast-right herself with her good arm.  Her figure emerges from the shimmering haze, and once she figures out the difference between the land and the sky, a flare sets her back upright.  There’s a moment of getting herself oriented, but apparently that little exchange had both sides of Kerry looking a little frazzled.  Great, everyone got a moment to feel stupid and irritated by how badly earth, fire, wind and (ice)water mixed together without heart to seal the deal.

Part of her wanted to blast-tackle caster-Kerry and force her to do more of the fistwork, rather’n letting li’l punch kerry do all the brawling.  Again, Jack restrained herself - she was here to toughen up, not to try and turn this into a grudge match.  So, rather than launch another counter-attack, Jack drops to the ground and steadies her stance, though she runs at the mouth a bit while doing so.

“You throw any more sand around like that and I’m gonna come over there and feed it to you with a shovel!”

“Fuck, even if I wanted to, do you know how much power and fine control it takes to fucking control the goddamned weather? Fucking nuclear annihilation would be cheaper,” Beacon responded. “Goddamn.”

“We should know. Big controlled a storm once before we split. She basically was dead spent after that for three days.” Smol slowly rolled her arms. “Okay. I’m finally starting to get a handle on this body. So let’s move up to battle circulation...” 

In. Out. The aura is like a raging bonfire. “Hm. Foundations, huh? I can live with that. Means I’m gonna be slower than I’m used to at normal battle power, but hey, I need the practice anyhow.” 

Fucking Install characters. 

[amiemariana-blog]

My new best friend. The speed bag. I honestly cant go a day without boxing or combat training. How did i ever live without this!?! #mma #boxing #traindirty #homeiswherethehurtis #fighttrain #everlast #fistworks #battlegrounds #myafternoon