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arts-and-drafts · 4 years ago

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Silent Exile AU

TW: permanent injury, unsettling imagery

(Mother Spore Anon from my inbox absolutely destroyed me with an AU of my Hermit Tommy AU where Dream destroyed Tommy's vocal cords in exile, so in my grief I blacked out and wrote 400+ words. Enjoy!)

Joe only finds him because of the sound of his body trampling the fern maze.

When he finds the source of the noise, the light of his lantern reflects off the pale form of a child knocked out cold, bleeding and scuffed beyond recognition. Joe almost drops the light in his haste to scoop the kid up and get him to safety.

The kid doesn't utter a word when he wakes up, but terror in his face at the unfamiliar surroundings says enough. Joe holds his hands up in a calming gesture. "Hey, easy--how are you doin', kiddo?" Joe asks gently. "Are you feelin' better?"

The child stays silent, just watching Joe carefully as if he didn't comprehend his concern. Every muscle in his body is tense. Joe shoves aside the growing awkwardness.

"I found you outside my base, are you--is someone looking for you?" Joe tries again, and a violent look crosses the kid's face before he vehemently shakes his head. "No?" Joe repeats, settling back in his chair across from the kid's bed. "Alright. What's your name?"

The kid opens his mouth, then closes it again. He makes a motion of writing on his hand, and Joe sees flashes of hurt and anger in his eyes.

"You...can't speak?" Joe prods hesitantly. The child looks at the floor and shamefully shakes his head again, his fear crumpling into grief. Joe's heart twists in pity.

"Hey, that's okay." He assures, trying to not let on how sorry he feels for this dirty child seeming halfway to death's door. "I'll get you a book and quill."

The kid is in the exact same spot when Joe returns, his knees pulled to his chest, and the hermit doesn't miss the flinch when the boy sees him. Joe steps slower when he approaches, unconsciously adopting the mindset he slips in to when he finds wild wolves to tame.

"Here you are, kiddo." Joe says, holding out the book and quill to the boy. The child looks from the book to Joe and back again before hesitantly taking it, opening the book to a random page and scribbling messily.

The boy hands the book back, and Joe reads in scrawling handwriting the name 'Tommy'.

"Tommy?" Joe checks, and the boy nods. He motions for the book back, and Joe obliges, watching him just for the sake of observation as he scribbles under the bold letters he wrote before.

Tommy holds the book back out with an oddly derisive look on his face that is almost a shitty grin. Joe takes it, meeting his eyes with a confused half smile of his own before looking down.

'Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit'.

A laugh bubbles out of Joe before he can stop it, but thankfully the kid's smile grows, and Joe is thankful that it was the right response.

"That's quite a title, bud." Joe muses, and he hands the book back to Tommy. "Me, I'm just Joe Hills, coming at you from Nashville, Tennessee."

Tommy's face changes, and he quickly scribbles in the book again, whipping it around to show the hermit with a look of mocking disdain. In bolded letters, underlined, was the prominent word of 'American???'

Joe laughs so hard his stomach hurts, and after he's calmed he can hear Tommy wheezing raspily as his shoulders shake with shared humor.

"Hoo, void--yeah, I'm American. That okay?" Joe asks sarcastically, wiping a tear from his eye. Tommy thinks for a moment, then scribbles again in the now full page.

'We can work on it.'

The hermits learn to adjust to Tommy, to his situation. They learn he used to be able to speak, when he opens and closes his mouth out of instinct when he gets too fired up to write. They learn he views his condition as a weakness, when he gets so flushed and teary eyed in frustration that he just shuts down, inconsolable for hours until he returns meekly with a scribbled apology. They learn that this was done to him on purpose, when he pulls off his bandana one hot day and reveals a messy scar caused only by an axe blade ripped over his throat that deformed it beyond repair.

It's Etho that suggests Tommy tame a parrot, and he and Grian and Tommy work together to train her to be in tune with Tommy to the best of her ability. Tommy writes the name 'Guava' on her tag, smiling at some joke only he knows.

Guava speaks for the kid, at the prompt of hand motions that he had taught her. Food, Sorry, Thank You, Give; even swear words, much to Tommy's delight and the hermit's changrin.

(But to tell the truth, they couldn't care less. Tommy is happy, and has a way to express himself in more than just writing, and that's all that matters in the end.)

Life finds a rhythm, but is all thrown on its head when Tommy finally writes the name of the world he escaped, in the middle of a plea for the hermits to send him back to the hellscape he survived. "Friends," Guava squawks on his shoulder at the flick of his fingers, Tommy's face desperate. "Alone. Danger. Save."

Grian squeezes his hands so tight that his nails cut into his skin, still laser focused on the name haphazardly scribbled in Tommy's book as Guava continues to plead to Xisuma.

The Dream SMP. How ironic that the Dreamslayer would've been one of those who saved a child from the world Grian had earned his title.

If Tommy was any basis to go off of, Grian worried for what he would do to Dream if he saw Tommy's homeworld as scarred and broken as he was.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#silent exile au #meraki post #hermit tommy au #angst #tw scars #tw permenant injury

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anarchy-and-piglins · 3 years ago

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Somehow Technoblade had managed the spectacular achievement of becoming the odd one out in an entire community made up of rare and strange beings.

The fact that all the other residents were non-humans happened to be what made him different though. Wilbur had told him the history of the commune, how their town was founded with the direct purpose of being a safe place for mobs and hybrids to live in peace, secluded from the humans who hunted them, enslaved them, or would otherwise harm them. Their location was kept secret, hidden from most by enchantments, and they were almost completely self-sufficient in the way they were run in terms of food and stuff.

Only occasionally would somebody wander out to another village, to trade or just to seek a little adventure for themselves. Phil especially was prone to do this – a traveler at heart, his Elytrian nature – and he was the one who had found Technoblade in a rather... compromising position.

If by compromising you could mean having an arrow sticking out your back.

People didn't like Technoblade. And Technoblade generally didn't like people, but he liked it even less when they chased him out of their villages with their bows drawn. Phil had been kind enough to remove the projectile. Technoblade had bravely said it didn't hurt but then secretly dug his blunt nails into the palms of his hands hard enough to leave white indents. Then Phil had insisted on taking him home to get a proper look at the wound and clean it up.

Not all of the other residents were thrilled with Technoblade's presence at first, scared it could compromise their location. A lot of their tunes had changed when they found out other humans were the cause of his injury, even more so when Techno revealed this was hardly an isolated incident. People didn't like Technoblade at all.

(Most humans had little tolerance for that which they did not understand. And according to them, Technoblade was weird and very hard to understand. Techno understood himself perfectly fine, he always thought they were the weird ones.)

So he stayed and overall things worked out great. There were only minor issues caused by the 'only human around' thing. Their pub was a good example. A few of the others in the commune could simply fly or teleport, and those that couldn't had no problems either since they could rely on inhuman stamina to make the climb tolerable. Techno had a hundred rungs of a ladder he needed to brave with his pitiful human physique if he wanted to get up there. Same thing for Phil's ridiculously high-up birdhouse.

And then one day he got sick.

It was probably his own fault. Last night when it was storming he'd been coming home from mining and gotten completely soaked out in the rain. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably take his drenched clothes off and get warm and comfortable as soon as he got home – the voice sounded suspiciously like Phil when he lectured Techno about fixing his terrible sleeping schedule and eating more regularly. But he had gotten distracted by putting away the materials he'd mined into his chests and starting to smelt the ore and by the time he noticed he was shivering at how cold it was, his clothes were damp more than wet. He lighted the fire and felt too exhausted to bother getting changed, crawling under the covers as he was - though it didn't completely ward away further trembling.

When he woke up his head hurt and there was this annoying tickle in his chest, feather-light touches against his lungs. The clothes had become sticky and uncomfortable, peeling off his skin. Techno coughed into a fist and set out as normal, intent on resuming his tasks where he left off yesterday.

It would probably go away on its own.

Except the coughing didn't stop. Small bursts of it kept coming up when he needed them least. He was in the middle of one when a voice rang out behind him.

"Techno, are you okay dude?" He must have jumped a solid three feet into the air and for a moment Wilbur only chuckled at his reaction.

"I told you to stop doing that," Techno grumbled, a little too sharply. Just because Wilbur could literally appear out of nowhere didn't mean he had to use that ability to sneak up on him for no reason. Techno coughed again, hiding it in his elbow.

"You did," Wilbur acknowledged with a smirk, but didn't apologize. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look I'm doing, I'm headed to the mines." Techno swung his pickaxe up on his shoulder, kind of almost nearly dropping it in the process with how clumsy his hands were being. Stupid.

"It looks like you were hacking up a lung, really." Wilbur's features softened. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Techno responded. He started walking again, knowing Wilbur would have a hard time following him while in corporeal form. Especially in the daytime.

"Are you coming to the pub later? I've got some new plans to unveil, think they'll be sick." Wilbur did make a valiant attempt at following him, though he quickly started falling behind, floating inches above the ground and unable to keep up with Techno's human strides.

"Uh, I'll think about it?" Techno answered evasively. He wasn't looking forward to braving that ladder in his current state. His arms hurt just thinking about it.

Wilbur stopped to call after him. "What do you mean you'll think about it?"

But Techno was far enough gone to be able to pretend not to hear him as he descended down his mineshaft.

Techno liked Niki's hair a lot. He'd even told her so not long after meeting her.

It was long and wavy and a nice shade of pastel pink that reminded him of the sunset. Technoblade would consider growing out his own hair that long if he didn't know it was way too unruly to keep in shape and stay untangled. And if dyeing it wasn't such a chore – one he knew he'd be too lazy to undertake as regularly as he should – he might have dyed it from its boring brown shade into something more interesting.

Niki was glad he was keeping her company while she tended to it, combing through it with what he presumed was a comb made of a seashell. Techno didn't tell her he had only really left the mines early because his lungs were starting to strain from the dust down there, the coughing fits getting closer together with less time in between to let him breathe. He sat on the sandy shore and traced patterns into the sand with one finger while they talked.

Niki was telling him about her builds, and expressing her disappointment over how she couldn't easily show them to her friends. None of them could breathe underwater or deal with the pressure common at the depths Niki lived. But she loved describing them in detail.

She was just explaining the sea glass she was intending to use when Technoblade started coughing again. His lungs expressed their displeasure through a series of sharp pangs that shot up into his neck. The sound he made was wet and disgusting, like there was something liquid rattling around inside his chest. Niki stopped talking to look at him worriedly.

"Are you alright? Techno, what happened?"

He tried to wave her away but it was kind of hard with his body still intent on making it impossible for him to get oxygen. Techno closed his eyes against the blurriness of his vision to concentrate on inhaling slower instead. "M'fine." He could feel the phlegm in his throat.

Niki was pulling herself onto the beach a little, trying to get a closer look at him. "Are you sick?"

"No." Getting up so fast was a bad idea. His head spun and he felt incredibly shaky. Techno ignored it. "No, I'm not. It's fine. I think I'll just head home now."

He started walking away quickly. The afternoon sun felt unbearable suddenly, scorching. Or maybe that was the beginning of a fever.

Niki called after him to wait but confined to the water as she was, it wasn't like she could do anything to stop him. Technoblade walked until he crested the hill, already seeing the shape of the other buildings in the distance. He made it halfway through the grass field and then he felt too drained to continue. Deciding to sit down for a bit, he lay back and closed his eyes.

"Do you think he's dead?"

"I dunno, we should poke him with a stick to find out."

Techno groaned at the sound of loud voices, ringing painfully around his aching head. He cracked his eyes open – not sure when he had even fallen asleep - and tried to blink the three faces hovering above him into focus.

"Oh, I think he's alive. Kind of." That was Ranboo.

"We could still poke him, just to make sure." Tommy.

Which meant the third person had to be Tubbo.

Techno pushed up on his elbows to get into a seated position, hating how difficult it was. His limbs were weak, as if they were made of jelly or some shit. The light fever had escalated into him feeling like his entire body was on fire.

This was not good.

"-chno? Hey, anybody home?" Tubbo was talking to him, waving one hand in front of his face. If his frown was any indication, Techno had been spacing out for a while.

"Hm?" he asked.

"I think there's something wrong with him," Tubbo said to the others.

"I'm fine." Techno tried standing up but fell back onto his ass a moment later when dizziness plowed into him with the force of a boulder. Tommy snorted.

"Yeah, we can tell." He reached out but pulled his hand back as soon as it came into contact with Techno's skin. "Fuck you're almost the same temperature as Jack Manifold. Pretty sure humans aren't supposed to run that hot."

"I'll get Phil," Ranboo offered, teleporting before Techno had a chance to object.

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. This was going to be a thing now and that happened to be the exact opposite of what Technoblade wanted it to be. He just wanted to go home and sleep this off.

"You're not..." Tubbo broke through his thoughts. The boy hesitated, wings vibrating a bit with nervous energy. "You're not like... actually dying are you?"

Techno tried to answer but was interrupted by another coughing fit first. When he was done Tubbo looked even more anxious than before. "Probably not. It's just a cold."

It was definitely not a simple cold. Pneumonia, more likely.

"Oh good."

Techno agreed. Not dying would probably be good, even if he currently felt like death warmed over.

Philza took him to the pub, much to Technoblade's horror.

All his protests and insistence he'd be fine if he was just taken to his house were brushed off easily, especially when Phil took flight with Techno barely able to keep from falling off his back when dark spots took over his vision. If it weren't for Phil's supporting hands keeping him steady he's probably have fallen off.

Normally Techno didn't dislike flying with Phil – despite the other always making some quip about how little Techno weighed for his height. But this time the vertigo was horrible and made him want to puke. Maybe it was fortunate he had skipped breakfast this morning.

They landed on the wooden porch softly, Phil keeping Techno's arm around his shoulder as he put him down to make sure he wouldn't collapse. Techno wasn't about to admit he probably needed that, though he muttered a quick thanks under his breath, which was starting to get more wheezing by the minute. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't ache.

There were a few beds in the backrooms of the pub, sometimes used for newcomers to temporarily reside. Techno found himself dumped into one, not really caring where Phil went when he left the room. Not when the sheets were so blessedly cool and comfortable. He could have probably fallen back asleep soon if Phil hadn't returned almost instantly.

"I checked with Sneeg, he said this should help a little." Phil sat down on the bed, holding up a cup with the nastiest-looking brown tea inside it Technoblade ever did see. "I'm sorry we don't have any real potions to give you, but he's closest to you in physiology, so I'm hoping this will be enough. We don't exactly have a lot of experience with human illness."

"Did you ask him if it was poisonous?" Techno asked, eyeing the steaming liquid.

"Don't be dramatic." Phil handed him the cup. Techno sighed and downed the herbal tea in one go, suppressing his gag reflex. Medicinal and earthy, it somehow tasted worse than it looked. He didn't think that was possible.

"Great, can I go home now?"

Phil shook his head as he got up again, taking the cup from him. "You're not going anywhere until your fever breaks. You think I flew you all the way up here for fun?"

"Possibly."

Rolling his eyes as he leaves the room, Phil once again came back only a moment later. This time he was holding a bowl of what Techno could only presume was water going by the cloth that was soaking in it. Phil gestured for him to lie down properly and this time Techno obeyed without complaint.

"I think it's best if you stay here for a while," he said while folding the cloth and putting it on Techno's forehead. The coldness of it did feel nice against his pounding headache. "The pub is the best place for us to take turns keeping an eye on you."

"I don't need you guys to keep an eye on me, though. I'm not a child."

"No, you're just a stubborn asshole with pneumonia." Phil drew back a bit, smile faltering. "And also the only human currently living in the commune. We don't have the needed supplies to treat you should this get worse, so I'd rather not take the risk."

And while he did a fair job hiding it, it was undeniably clear Phil was worried.

"Fine, I'll stay." Techno made an effort of showing how annoyed he was by huffing and pulling the blankets over himself. "But can you at least get me a book or something? Won't help much keeping me here if I'll be bored to death."

Phil laughed – light and teasing. Techno liked that a lot more than he did the worry.

"I'll see what I can do."

He spent a solid week in bed.

Much to Phil's relief, Techno's sickness did not get worse. But without proper medicine, it didn't improve as quickly as they would have liked either. He had to get better the old-fashioned way: waiting for his body to fight off the infection on its own.

Most of his time was spent sleeping. Whenever he woke up somebody else was at his bedside, to make sure he could eat and drink. Phil hadn't been kidding when he said they'd take turns. It was almost comforting to know there was always someone watching over him while he slept, though Techno didn't feel the need to say that out loud.

After that first week, he was recovered enough to at least limp out of his room and around the pub. He was too weak to attempt the ladder and any sudden moves were still likely to throw him into a coughing fit that could last several minutes. But he could sit at one of the tables and talk to Niki when she visited.

Or to the others, who all seemed to be coming by a lot more often than was usual.

Wilbur unveiled his plans and talked Techno's ear off about what he was working on. Fundy came all the way to the pub to try and sell him stolen trinkets. Ranboo was always coming around with some new book for him to read, asking him if he liked his previous recommendation.

(None of them visited as often as Tommy though, who always complained about having to be there while fluffing up his wings, yet always stuck around the longest even when Techno told him he'd be fine on his own.)

And with them around, Techno realized that despite being the only human, he had never felt less alone.

#technoblade #origin smp #mcyt #shara writes #human techno my beloved <3 #also sickfic mY BELOVED

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gravesightings · 4 years ago

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tmi: rescue - chromeskull & thomas

If your requests are open, could you please do a protecting/saving hc for jesse+ any other slashers? Also how they would comfort their s/o? Sorry to bother, thank you. -requested by anonymous.

chromeskull

jesse has a serious attitude problem so naturally he’s got more enemies than friends. this man is a full-time asshole, part-time mass murderer.

very paranoid. he’ll keep you away from his work as much as he can—afraid of history repeating itself. you would know about his work from the beginning but he’ll spare you the grisly details.

trust issues would be his downfall. jesse just doesn’t trust anybody else to keep an eye on you while he’s out. he would be the type to install hidden cameras all over his home and plant a tracker on you without your permission.

even though he’s gone great lengths to keep you away from it, the bloodshed will inevitably follow. one of his many foes would just decide one day that kidnapping you would be the best way to get back at him.

they would do it when he’s out on another massacre—much too busy to keep track of his beloved sitting pretty back at home. jesse would only notice when you had stopped responding to his texts. (he’d be very strict with your response times for this exact reason.) all hell will break loose when he finds out you’ve been abducted.

how would he protect you?

have you seen him? this man is both extremely dangerous and extremely violent. he’s virtually never unarmed (yes, even when he’s sleeping. he has a hidden gun compartment at his bedside.) but he can still do a lot of damage with his bare hands.

again, lots of hidden cameras. this man is paranoid to the bone. he’s constantly watching his back. (and for good reason!) now that he has you, he can no longer afford taking any risks. be mad at him all you want for planting a tracker on you without your permission. it’s a small price to pay for your safety.

since he doesn’t trust anybody else to “babysit” you, he’s going to teach you how to shoot a gun. don’t try to talk him out of this because it’s not going to work. either you learn how to shoot or he’s going to teach you the most effective ways to cause damage. (which is arguably much worse in comparison.)

all brawn? oh honey, you’re sorely mistaken. let him give you a quick breakdown of all the major arteries of the head and neck. after all, what use is all of his brute strength when he doesn’t know how to use it? jesse is not only book smart, he’s also very good at improvising.

how would he save you?

your captors are going to have a very horrible time. he’s not going to grant them the mercy of dying quickly. it won’t be difficult to find you since he’s got you tracked, after all. it’s only a matter of executing the perfect ambush.

he’s going to save the best for last: the person who had the audacity to try and take you away from him. everybody else will be in pieces, he’ll make sure of it. (and he’ll make sure they see it with their own eyes too.)

if it’s too much mess to clean up he’ll just have the place torched and be done with it. your captor would live a little longer but they’re going to wish they had died just as quickly as everybody else. jesse is going to toy with them until he’s satisfied.

would he comfort you?

jesse would waste no time getting you out of there once he has the captor in his possession. once home, he’ll clean you up nice and patch you up himself if you have any injuries.

if you’re left a little disturbed from the ordeal, he’ll do his best to comfort you. don’t expect him to fully be there for you – he’ll be so consumed with rage he might not have the capacity to think about anything else. in his mind, he was careless enough to let this happen to you.

too focused in his own plans for revenge to comfort you properly. he might even spend more time torturing your captor than comforting you. after he’s done with them, only then will he give you his full attention.

thought you were spoiled before? get ready to be spoiled until you're absolutely sick of it. while jesse is not clingy by any means, after this incident he’ll have you glued onto him 24/7.

also expect him to be fully invested in teaching you how to protect yourself. previously he was only keen on teaching you self-defense only as a last resort but after the attempted abduction he’s decided that it’s much too risky. congrats! you’re now being taught how to kill by the shadiest people imaginable. he’s paid good money for this, so you better be compliant.

thomas hewitt

tommy doesn’t spend time with other people outside of his family. on the off-chance that he does, it’s very likely they won’t be alive for very long. why bother socializing? it’s not like he can talk. besides, all they do is call him names and insult him anyways.

now that he has you, he’s convinced himself he no longer needs anyone else in his life. just you and the family.

he doesn’t go out of his way to make friends but he isn’t one to pick fights either. tommy only goes for suspicious people: ones that snoop around the property or threaten to hurt his loved ones. other than that it’s always hoyt’s call.

no matter how accepted you are in the family, you’re not allowed to go far from the property without permission. it’s not like there’s not much to see out there anyways. since there’s little to no people around, the only real danger is the victims hoyt brings in.

maybe a very crafty bunch—ones that know exactly when and how to play along. unfortunately they’d also be smart enough to notice that you stick out like a sore thumb. prepare to be “saved” from the hewitts by a bunch of kind strangers. (oh no!! not stockholm syndrome!)

how would he protect you?

while not violent in nature, tommy’s one of the most intimidating slashers. just being around the guy is enough to deter the average joe so most of the time he doesn’t actually need to do much.

won’t go for the chainsaw right away. since he’s a large man, he usually just wrangles people away from you if need be. tommy doesn’t like killing in front of you either, worried it’ll send you into hysterics. you’re not scared of him now but maybe you’ll change your mind later on.

BIG soft spot for you. very attentive to your needs. he doesn’t get social cues but body language? an expert. immediately notices if you’re feeling down or if you’ve gotten injured somehow. virtually impossible to keep a secret from him. (also partly because he likes keeping a close eye on you.)

once you fall in place with everybody else’s chores, tommy’s going to take mental note of your schedule. you’d be up a little later than him in the morning to help luda mae in the kitchen, then maybe go for a morning walk. usually you’d be back in three minutes tops. the first time you took longer to get back he panicked and went out looking for you. ...oh.. turns out you had stopped to admire the sky. nervously scoots back to the basement in hopes you hadn’t seen him stalking you.

how would he save you?

initially he’d be too upset to even think properly - assuming you’d finally decided to just up and leave when the opportunity presented itself. there’s a lot of doubt in his heart. no, they’ve taken you against your will. you couldn’t have possibly gotten sick of him, haven’t you?

tommy would be on auto-pilot the entire time. hoyt would have to take over, seeing that tommy would be too nervous about the whole thing. one thing’s for sure though: he sees red when he finally spots you, needing to physically stop himself from lunging at your captors.

again, it’s hoyt’s call. no matter how crafty they may be though, there’s no outsmarting being shot by a trigger-happy old man. (much less a very angry thomas.)

tommy might actually lose control for once. if you somehow got hurt by your captors, accidental or not, he’s going to reduce them to paste. tommy’s outburst would undoubtedly shock everyone. you won’t even hear a peep from hoyt about “wasting the meat.”

would he comfort you?

it’s all give-and-take with tommy. the kind of person to put others before himself so comforting you is top priority. also the type to blame himself; he should’ve paid more attention, double-checked their restraints, etc.

this man has been raised well so expect a lot of pampering once he’s gotten himself together. he can’t talk but he’ll coo at you and won’t let you go until he’s sure you’re okay. very very gentle with you. while he's normally not one to initiate, he’ll be more confident around you. lots of cuddling and forehead kisses.

extremely paranoid from this point on. depending on the severity of the incident, tommy might take it to the extremes. (i.e. keeping you locked in his room.) it’ll take him a long time before he’s even comfortable not seeing you. overcompensates with the affection.

it’s all very confusing for thomas. hates locking you up but.. what if someone tries to take you again? he sees how eagerly you lean against his touch but at the same time it feels so... wrong. a lot of mixed feelings. depending on how much he trusts you, he might stay like this for a while. (a few days max, with some pleading and a lot of TLC)

#my writing #slashers #tmi #tmi: rescue #chromeskull #jesse cromeans #thomas hewitt #slasher x reader #slasher x you #self ship #reader insert #requests #god i love this #might do a fic on this in the future

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elizabethemerald · 5 years ago

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Family Janus and Dame Lake

@im-the-king-of-the-ocean and anon. Your requests for Barbmura have been combined. Body guard AU and historical AU. I hope you enjoy!!

I noticed that you were taking Barbmura prompts, so how about some sort of historical AU?

if you're game for barbmura prompts, how about them in some kind of royalty/bodyguard au (I've been on a kick for those lately)? I'll happily pass the torch on to you too :D I don't want to be done with the barbmura ship forever, but I just need to do something different for a while

The year is 1926. Prohibition is in full effect. In attempt to curb national debauchery the consumption, sale and importing of alcohol has been banned. But the common people still want to enjoy their vices. So the crime families have risen to power, by supplying alcohol. Some of the families are new, some are old, and some...are very old.

Doctor Barbara Lake walks home from a long day of working to help the sick and the poor. Her work is exhausting, but satisfying. There are few things in the world, other than her son, that she loves more than helping those in need. Its why she became a doctor. And it’s why when she finds a man outside her house, grievously injured she calls her son out to help her drag him into the house.

His wounds are severe, and she can tell at a glance that they are related to the city’s criminal underbelly. He has multiple gunshots and a stab wound. Even though she knows he must be with the mafia, she still fulfills her oath and cares for him.

Her son, Jim, helps her stitch the man’s injuries, carefully angling the light so she can see what she’s doing. When there is a knock at the door she leaves him to watch over the man. At the door are more men from the mafia. A rival family. She bars them entrance to their home and when they try to force their way past her, she rebuffs them with her uncle’s rifle. She will not have her hard work on healing this man undone.

It is shortly after they depart that there is another knock at her door. This time she grabs the rifle first. It’s only the tired, pained voice of the man on her table that stops her. He recognizes the voices at the door.

Barbara opens the door to find a short and stout man with a heavy accent. And a tall woman, with black hair cut into a bob, she’s Japanese if Barbara would guess. Together the two of them help the injured man into their car. As they leave she hears one of them address the hawk nosed man, with gray hair coming in at his temples as Don, and she realizes how serious this is.

The next day an attempt is made on Barbara’s life. The same mobsters who had tried to force their way into her home the previous night return. They aim to finish their attempt on the Don’s life, and if they can’t find him, kill anyone who helped him. The rifle is too long to bring up quick and is knocked out of her hands.

Her life is saved by the timely arrival of the lady who helped her patient to the car. She comes bearing a generous donation to the clinic Barbara works in. A sign of gratitude from the Don for saving his live. Of course like any good member of the Family she’s always armed. Her Thompson makes quick work of the two assailants. Barbara is horrified by the two men killed at her door, but the raven haired woman pulls her away, makes a call to her cleaner, and then volunteers for the doctor’s protection detail.

Barbara is happy that by the time Jim is home from school there is no trace of the blood shed. She is less happy about the two mafios now hanging around her house.

“My name is Ms. Nomura.” The woman who had saved her introduces herself. “We’ll be here to protect you no matter what.”

“My name is Mr. Nuñez, but you can call NotE.” Her companion says. He looks young, like he could almost be younger than Jim, but he drinks and smokes and swears like a sailor already.

“Mr. Naughty?” Barbara asks, trying to wrap her head around what’s happening.

“Sure. Until Gunmar’s goons decide to leave well enough alone, we’ll be here to keep you and ya boy safe.” He says.

Barbara tries to argue, but Ms. Nomura explains.

“The Janus Family takes things like this very seriously. You saved the Don’s life. Now the family owes you a debt. We’re here to ensure that debt is paid.”

“Fine.” Barbara huffs. “But don’t think that you are going to keep me cooped up in here. There are people at my clinic that need help. And I didn’t become a doctor to become embroiled in a mafia war!”

Barbara is slowly getting used to her new daily normal. Ms. Nomura shadows her to work then stays nearby keeping an eye out. Then they return to her home together. She still doesn’t like her son and his friend Toby spending so much time around NotE, nor does she like Otto, the Family’s “fixer.” But she finds Ms. Nomura’s company to be pleasant enough.

Despite her ties to the Janus Family, Ms. Nomura is an avid art enthusiast. She seems to know every bit of history about every piece in the local art museum. Barbara strongly considers showing the other woman her own paintings.

Before she gets a chance to do so, the Darklands Family makes its second attempt. Barbara and Nomura are walking home from the clinic when a car pulls up besides them. Nomura pulls Barbara behind her drawing her Tommy from her jacket. After a short hail of bullets, returned by Nomura, the car speeds away.

Nomura drags Barbara off the streets, not pausing until they are safe in her home. Jim jumps up from the book he’s reading to help them inside. Barbara has a small graze on her arm and Nomura one on her leg. Nomura also had a much series wound in her abdomen.

NotE calls for back up while Jim and Barbara see to Nomura’s injuries. It’s not long before Otto Scaarbach and Gladys Groe arrive with a small troop. Walter Strickler, Don of the Janus Family comes with them. His fury is something to see. Not only was someone under the Family’s protection injured, but a member of the Family itself is laying on the kitchen table her blood soaking into the hardwood. The only person angrier than Walter is Jim, seeing his mom hurt boils the boy’s blood.

The Janus Family prepares to hit the mattresses. This is a call for war. The Family cannot rest until revenge is had, blood for blood.

Barbara can’t pay attention to them. All she has eyes for is her patient. She knew she would be dead if it weren’t for the woman in front of her. Her blue eyes shine in the light as Barbara stitches her up.

“So what do you think?” Barbara asks.

“It’s beautiful.” Ms. Nomura’s green eyes are wide as she takes in the painting. “Ms. Lake, you have quite the eye for colors!”

The painting isn’t her best work, but it fills her heart with joy to hear Nomura likes it. It captures a scene she has seen only in a book, the cherry blossoms of Japan. From the look on the other woman’s face, Barbara can tell this is the exact taste of home that she needs.

Ms. Nomura turns away for a moment, wincing as she twists her stomach. She’s healing quickly, but she still has some small twinges of pain, now weeks after her injury. She pulls a small package out from her bag.

“Ms. Lake, I got something for you as well.” She handed over the package. “In thanks for your caring touch.”

Barbara opens the package and gasps. The small urn, brilliantly painted, perfectly matches her eyes. She reaches out and intwines her fingers with the other woman’s.

“Ms. Nomura… I-”

“Please, Ms. Lake, call me Zelda.”

Barbara giggled a little.

“In that case you need to call me Barbara.”

They look at each other for a moment, each staring deeply into the other’s eyes.

“Ok, Zelda.” Barbara whispers breathily.

“I can’t believe you dragged my son into your fight!�� Barbara screams.

“I didn’t drag him anywhe-” Zelda’s sentence is cut off as she ducks a plate that is hurled at her head. “Please Barbara listen to me!”

Barbara ignores her plea in favour grabbing for another plate.

“I’ve done nothing but help your precious family! And in thanks I’ve been shot at! My home’s been invaded. And now my son is kidnapped! He’s been taken by the Darklands! Zelda, how did you expect me to react to this information?”

“Barbara, please!”

“GET OUT!” Barbara screams. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! And don’t you ever think of coming back!”

Nomura ducks under another plate and bolts for the door. She turns back just in time to see Barbara grab the blue urn, the present she had given her, and pull her arm back to throw it. Nomura quickly steps outside and closes the door. After a few seconds the sound of something shattering within echoes the shattering of Zelda’s heart. She leans against the door for a second, slow tears falling down her face. Inside she can hear Barbara sobbing against the other side of the door.

Zelda straightens and pulls away from the door. She steels her spine there can be only one course of action now.

Walter had called Gunmar’s attack against her personal and had ordered a full out war with the rival family. But he doesn’t know the meaning of the word personal. Zelda snarls as she strides away. She is going to rain an ungodly hell on the Darklands.

The heavy rain fall pours down. The puddles run red with blood. Barbara Lake, doctor and mother of one, does her best to staunch the bleeding. Her tears blend with rain running down her face. The Thompson, its barrel still smoking from the fire fight, lays discarded to the side.

“Please stay with me Zelda!” Barbara cries.

Zelda struggles to stay awake. The world seems to be fuzzy at the edges. All she can see are the blue eyes, filled with tears, looking down on her. The war was over. Gunmar dead. Strickler gone. Jim safe. Maybe it was time for the soldiers to go as well. Zelda always considered herself a soldier.

“Zelda, I can’t lose you! Not again.” Barbara begs. She fumbles with her purse one handed, while she tries to maintain pressure with her other. Nomura assumes she is reaching for bandages, but instead she pulls out a small blue urn she recognizes.

“You fixed it?” She asks softly.

“I never broke it.” Barbara laughs wetly past her crying. “I couldn’t stand to lose it. It means so much to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you Zelda!” Barbara does the only thing she can think of, the only thing she’s wanted to do for far too long. She kisses her. Zelda can feel Barbara’s warm lips against her own, and the rain falling down around her as the world fades to black.

Barbara stands alone next to the simple stone wall. In the yard before her, head stones stretch out as far as she can see. The graveyard always fills her with a sense of wistful sadness. Maybe she will create a painting. Try to capture the feeling inside her. She breaths deeply, trying to commit every detail to memory, so she can recreate them later.

“What’s taking so long back there?”

Barbara turns at the voice and smiles.

“I just had an idea for a painting and needed time to visualize it in my head.”

She hurries forward and catches up with her companion who waits for her at the corner.

“Ms. Lake, we are out for a lovely stroll and here you are admiring graveyards!”

“Zelda, how many times do I have to remind you to call me Barbara?”

“A few more times won’t hurt.” Zelda smiles and leans in for a kiss. “I don’t have many opportunities left. Soon I will have to call you Mrs. Nomura!”

“It’s Lake-Nomura. I’m going to use both of our names.”

“That works for me.”

Barbara grabs Zelda’s face and kisses her deeply. “Here’s to us, forever.”

In time their strolls brings them back to the small house they own. Their kissing continues on the couch. On the wall is a painting of cherry blossoms and on the table under neath it, a bright blue urn.

#zelda nomura #Barbara Lake #barbmura #mafia au #jim lake junior #walter strickler #Trollhunters #tales of arcadia #Listen I am but a simple gay #I love two women #and the way they love each other #I hope you enjoy!

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thisismymidnightwonderland · 6 years ago

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Protection - Finn Shelby

Requested: Yes

9 or 11 with finn Shelby please ? - Anonymous

Prompt (it’s a long one sorry 😐) 8+9+10+11 with Finn Shelby? - Anonymous

#8 Finn Shelby please maybe with all the family involved somehow - Anonymous

11 and/or 15 with Finn please?! Thanks love - mustprotectall

Loving your blog! Could you please do one with prompt 8 and 10? Thanks - Anonymous

Prompts: 8. “Who did this to you?” “No one-” “Who fucking did this?”

9. “We all have bets on how long it’ll take you two to admit you’re madly in love with each other.”

10. “I’ll protect you ‘til the day I die.”

11. “Did you just rip my suit?”

I got quite a few requests for using the same prompts so I decided to combine them all into this one. Hopefully you all enjoy it :)

“Shelby slut!”

You ignored the calls that followed you home. “They’re just stupid, little boys that have nothing better to do.” You told yourself, but that didn’t make the words hurt any less. Your face burned with embarrassment and anger. You wanted nothing more than to turn around and tell them to fuck off, normally you would but today was different.

When you were a child, the Shelby family took you in. To start with you were a neighbour, nothing more. You had grown up alongside Finn as the war tore your families apart. Polly became your surrogate mother when your own lost herself to grief. It had started off with small things, like giving you lunch when your own mother forgot to make it or putting you in the bath alongside Finn with the claim that she didn’t want the water to go to waste but you knew better. It’d been days since your mother bothered to clean you herself and it showed. When things took a turn for the worst Polly stepped up, gave you bed in the house and a home for as long as you wanted it and for that you were eternally grateful.

It was their anniversary today.

You weren’t sure of the exact date your father had died but the letter had arrived the day your mother did, so it was easier to say they passed on the same day. It had been a tense day and those closest to you knew this so when you stood up suddenly to leave when talking turned to the war, no one questioned you and no one followed. It was only on the walk home you wished you hadn’t.

The gang of boys stopped following you once you got within a few feet of the door so when you finally shut it behind you, the tears followed freely. Your head tipped back against the door and your knees buckled.

“Y/n?” Arthur’s voice rang out clearly. He coughed realising you were crying and not sure about what to do started to shout for someone. “Polly! John! Tommy! For fucks sake, fucking Finn! Anybody?!”

“What is going on?” Polly stormed into the kitchen and she instantly softened when she saw you. “John, get her on the sofa.”

John easily picked you up and placed you down gently, kneeling in front of you with one hand comfortingly holding onto yours.

“What’s going on Y/n? Is it because of today?” Polly asked.

“Yes. No. I don’t fucking no.” You sobbed.

John moved from the floor and sat next to you, an arm wrapped around you. “You can tell us love” His voice was soft.

You opened your voice but before you could speak, Finn entered the kitchen and threw his jacket onto the table. “What’s everyone shouting about?” But when he saw you, any possibility of his attention on anyone else vanished.

He grabbed your hands, “What’s going on? Did someone hurt you? Who did this to you?”

“No one.” You shook your head.

His eyes locked onto yours. “You’re lying, who fucking did this?”

His gaze was intense, too intense. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. More tears, escaped but they didn’t stay long. His fingers touched your cheeks gently, brushing them away. “Who did this?”

His voice was so quiet it could’ve been a whisper.

“The lads from up the lane. They’ve been saying stuff to me, but it’s fine. Don’t do anything-” But the minute you confessed who had upset you, Finn didn’t care about anything else. He stormed out the kitchen, grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him.

“Finn!” You called after him, but he had already left.

It was long after dark when Finn got back. You were the only one still up, everyone else had left or gone to bed. You shot up off the sofa when you heard the door close.

You were relieved. “You’ve been gone hours.”

“It took a while find them all.” He groaned.

“Them all?” You questioned, but when he stepped into the light coming from the fire you understood. Blood dripped down from his nose and mouth, staining his shirt. You looked at his hands, the skin across all knuckles had been stretched and split. Dry blood crusted over the top.

“Sit down. Take your jacket off” your voice shook. You filled a bowl with warm water and set it down on the table. You started with his hands first, the dried blood cleaned off easily but he winced when you pressed to hard on one of the middle knuckles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

You took hold of his other hand, his thumb gently moving back and forth across the hand that was holding his.

You dumped the cloth back in the bowl and looked up, ready to clean his face but my words got lost when I met his eyes. The firelight shining on them made the reflections look like they were dancing. His eyes were locked on mine, it was too much. I coughed and looked away.

“Are you ok now?” He asked.

You scoffed, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one that got all bloodied up for nothing”

He shrugged and mumbled something.

“What?”

“It wasn’t for nothing” He mumbled.

You searched for a reply but the words never came. Finn eventually stood up and walked away upstairs with a hand holding his bruised jaw. You sighed and started to clean the table up. You swept all the bloodied cloth into the now empty bowl and tipped them into the bin.

“He means well you know.” John said from behind. “He cares about you.”

“Seemed like it then.”

He stared into the glass he was holding and leaned against the wall. “Don’t take it to heart, boy just nearly got himself beat into the ground trying to find all those lads.”

A sharp pang went through your chest, you’d never even thanked him for defending you.

John tipped the glass back and swallowed what was left, “We all have bets on how long it’ll take you two to admit you’re madly in love with each other and between you and me, if you could hurry up that’d be great because in few days I’m about to lose twenty quid to Arthur.”

The next morning you were on your way back from the shop for Polly and as you rounded the corner of your lane, you were met with a gang of lads you hoped you wouldn’t have to see again.

“Oi there she is!”

In a matter of moments you were surrounded by them, each boy sporting some kind of injury. A black eye, broken nose, the list went on.

“Your little boyfriend seemed to take it upon himself last night to go around throwing punches at us, now why would he be doing that?” The leader jeered.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Must have been because of your charming personality.”

He stepped forward. “Listen up, you little-”

“What. The Fuck. Don’t you. Understand. About staying away?” A familiar voice cut through the air. You watched as he shoved his way through the group until he stood nose to nose with the leader, flanked by some of peaky boys it was sight to behold.

“Fuck off Finn.”

“What was that?” Finn’s hand went to his beneath his jacket, whatever was beneath caused colour to drain from the other boys face. On his own he was intimidating but stood next to Finn? He was like child trying to play in a man’s world.

“Thought so.” He scoffed, as he turned to face you, the once terrified boy seemed regain some of his confidence and latched onto Finn’s back in some kind of attempt to pull him back around.

The sound of material ripping cut through the air.

“Did you just rip my suit?” Finn’s voice was hard.

If it was anymore possible the boy’s face paled further. “I… I…” He never got the chance to finish his sentence when the blinders started forward. Watching them chance the boys up the road was something that would keep a smile on your face for days.

Laughing you turned to look a Finn. “Polly’s gonna fucking kill me when she see the state of me.”

“I’ll tell her it was worth it.” You pressed your lips to his cheek as a sign of your thanks,the blush that shot across them would’ve caused you to instantly tease him if he didn’t speak before you.

“I meant what I said the other night about it not being for nothing you know? I’d do anything for you” Finn coughed, the redness that only covered his cheeks to begin with was now making its way all over his face. “Since you moved in I’ve been meaning to tell you something, even before you moved in I guess. For as long as I’ve known you… well maybe not as long as but-”

Your lips pressed against his, silencing his rambling.

“I love you too.”

His hands settled at your waist, holding you close. “I’ll protect you ‘til the day I die. You know that right?”

“I know”

“Well, well, well.” A voice bellowed from behind. “Look at what we have here Arthur. I think that these two finally got over themselves and said I love you which means you owe twenty fucking quid.” John finished his gloating with a smack on Arthur's back.

“Two more days! You pair just couldn’t have waited two more fucking days.” He groaned as he handed the money off to gloating John.

#finn shelby #tommy shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby x reader

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genderbinaryisforlosers · 6 years ago

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if yr still taking prompts... Laura tryna raises all ten of her babey siblings and. Losing her mind but loving them.... ILYSM riley

zander you KNOW im basically writing this for EH but ily so i guess i can give you a sneak preview of the Shenanigans that go on in this house (set in BHverse so theyre all Babey)

When Laura was a kid, Logan had seemed to spend a great dealof time sleeping. She was starting to think she understood why.

“Laaaauuuraaaaa,” Andronika said, tugging on her sleeve.

“Mhmm,” she replied, groggily.

“Can you show me how to make paper chains again?” she asked.She was twisting back and forth on the spot, eager to be moving.

Laura looked at the mound of children that was currentlypiled on top of her. “Maybe later, Andy. Why don’t you get Zelda to show you?”She attempted to peer around Gabby and Tolly to see if Zelda was still dozingthere with significantly less weighing her down.

“I asked her,” Andy reported forlornly. “She said she’sbusy.”

Uh oh. That wasn’t a good sign.

She started to shuffle her way out of the pile, and Gabbystirred unhappily. Laura took her under the armpits before she could startcrying and shushed her, “Hey, you want to spend some quality time with your bigsister Ptolema, don’t you?” she suggested, and handed the baby to her.

“But I want to make paper chains,” Tolly whined.

“We will, Tolls, just once I check in on Zelda and…” she dida quick head count of the kids on the sofa (and Tommy, who was reading at thekitchen table), and sighed. “…Bellona and Parth. Of course.”

She didn’t even ask where Tolly had seen the older kids; sheknew they were on the roof. Home toall Wolverine and Wolverine-adjacent people. She opened the door to the flat partof the roof, and heard voices coming from the next storey up, on the slantedtile.

“I’m gonna do it!”

“Then stop saying it and do it already.”

“I will!”

The exasperated groan that followed came from neither of thefirst two voices. Laura knew this not because their actual voices were distinguishablydifferent, but because it was the trademarked groan of the biggest sister, andthat happened to be Zelda (no matter Bellona’s opinion on the matter).

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Parth said, just as the three of themcame into view, and she was already midway through the jump before Laura couldget out her whole shout of—

“Hey!”

Zelda went wide-eyed at her sudden appearance, and saidhastily, “I was trying to stop them!” Bellona growled at her, which probablymeant something to the effect of ‘stop being a snitch!’

She ignored the two standing on the roof for the moment andlooked instead for Parth, who had leaped down the fire escape in someapparently spectacular stunt.

“Woohoo!” she yelled, grinning up at them. Her knees wereall scraped up, but otherwise she was fine.

“Get inside,” Laura snapped, “We’ll talk in a minute.”

She turned to the other two, and before she could start on alecture that by this point was fairly well memorised, Bellona used the exactsame tone – albeit from a ten-year-old voice – to tell her, “Leave us alone. Wewere just having fun. We can do whatever we want!”

She sighed and ushered them back towards the flat part ofthe roof. “I’ll explain it again, Bell. You’re young and still learning aboutthe world, so I’m your guardian, and I’m responsible for your safety. And sometimes,safety means not doing fun stuff.”

She had her arms crossed, sulking. “That’s stupid. You’restupid.”

“Yeah, I know.”

When they got inside and Bellona stalked away to be angry onher own, Zelda surprised Laura with a hug. “Thank you for trying to keep hersafe,” she said, muffled as she spoke into her shirt. “I know it doesn’t seemlike she’s listening, but she is. She’s just grumpy.”

She cracked a smile and placed a hand on the top of Zelda’shead. “That’s okay, kiddo. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

She ran off to find her sister, and Laura made her way backto the kitchen, where Parth had her legs propped up on one of the chairs, and someof the smaller kids, apparently having woken up, were ogling at her injuries.She was boasting about her stunt, but the smile quickly dropped when Laura enteredthe room, and the younger kids scattered but stayed close, watching.

She got the first aid kid out of the cabinet and started tendingto her, silently. She squirmed uncomfortably, anticipating a telling-off, butLaura waited until she was as clean and patched-up as she could be before shelooked her in the eyes and said, “Don’t do that again.”

“…Okay.”

“You’re not invincible, and you’re not disposable. Do youunderstand what those words mean?”

She nodded.

“Do you understand why you shouldn’t jump off buildings?”

She nodded.

“Good. Don’t do it again.”

“Hey, Laura!” Andy called from the living room. She held upa paper chain that was almost as long as she was tall. “Look what I made! I’mgoing to make one that goes all the way to the moon.”

“Sounds like we’re going to need more hands,” she commented,and beckoned for Parth to join the fray that already included Romilda, Louise, andCamilla, as well as an emotional support Gabby who was mostly just tearing paperinto pieces.

“How do you make the chains?” Camilla asked, slotting two stripsof adhesiveless paper together in various configurations.

There was a pause where Andronika just held her alreadylengthy paper chain in her hands. She said, “I don’t know. Laura, how do youmake a paper chain?”

#kinney sisters #laura kinney #wolverine #bleeding heart #my writing #things i made #zander #laukinney #riley replies

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fighttowinfanfic · 8 years ago

Text

Fight to Win - Kazuya Mishima Vs Toguro

These two sacrificed their humanity for vengeance. The monster within the man will rise, but only one will fall.

Humanity, at times is all we have, but some will deliberately blacken their hearts if it means tearing apart those that wronged them.

Kazuya Mishima, head of G-Corporation

And Toguro, the younger of the infamous Toguro Brothers

I’m Tommy the Bomb-Y, and it’s my pleasure to pit fiction’s champions against one another, in a

FIGHT!

TO!

WIN!

The millionaire mastermind of the King of Iron Fist Tournament--Heihachi Mishima. While a charismatic figure in public and highly successful mogul, he was far less successful in the field of being a father than any other. Deeming his son too weak to live, he dropped the young boy down a ravine, leaving him to the odds to either die or climb out a changed man.

...The latter occurred, and Heihachi’s son, forever changed and bittered by the experience, would rise again to challenge his father. He would make his name known; Kazuya Mishima.

Name: Kazuya Mishima Age: 49 Height: 5’11” (186 cm) Weight: 168 lbs. (76 kg) Homeland: Japan Race: Human/Devil gene Alias: Devil Kazuya Son of a Distinguished Family Kazuya trained for years in preparation of the day he’d exact revenge on his father. He entered Heihachi’s tournament and won, throwing Heihachi off of the very same cliff he was thrown off of as a child in the final round. By doing so, Kazuya took over his father’s corporate conglomerate, corrupting the blackened heart of the distinguished martial artist even further.

Kazuya fights with the Mishima Style Karate passed down by the generations of his family. The style is fictional, but takes very clear influence from many real life martial arts such as Shorin Ryu and Shotokan, which share a common link in their up close and intensely solid body structures--emphasizing circular over direct motions. His martial arts training make him a deadly foe--capable of throwing around armored JACK robots as if they were limp dolls and slam a man’s head into a reinforced metal wall with enough force to leave massive cracks.

Unknown to many, Kazuya has another source of power. An evil entity simply known as Devil is what saved Kazuya from dying at the bottom of the ravine Heihachi threw him down as a child. Devil promised that he’d have the power to overthrow Heihachi if Kazuya allowed him to take refuge in his body. From then on, Kazuya acted as Devil’s host, greatly enhancing his strength. By tapping into Devil’s power, Kazuya can produce shockwaves capable of destroying buildings from the inside.

While Devil used to take control of Kazuya’s body as he pleased, Kazuya was eventually able to turn the tables on his demonic host; and with extensive training as well as supplement from his own company, G-Corporation, Devil became a power source for Kazuya to wield rather than the other way around. Kazuya can channel Devil’s energy into powerful strikes that are practically explosive upon contact. The Devil Gene has also made Kazuya incredibly durable--able to survive when Heihachi tried to finish him once and for all by dropping him, this time, down an erupting volcano.

And when Kazuya needs an extra punch, he’ll allow Devil further influence over his body, transforming him into Devil Kazuya. In his demonic form, Kazuya gains access to long reaching laser eyes, as well as flight via two beating wings. Although the Devil form is incredibly powerful, it’s by no means an instant victory--a skilled enough fighter, such as Heihachi, has been shown to be capable of taking down Kazuya in this form.

However Kazuya is one of the most feared Iron Fist combatants, and few that have seen his demonic form have lived to tell about it.

If you have a band of fighters willing to help you do attain your wildest dream, the Dark Tournament, a contest of the Demon World’s most unruly combatants, will have you feeling right at home. There, combatants fight to the death for a chance at any wish of their choosing.

Any wish...even transcending your own humanity. One man, struck by grief and guilt when he dojo was slaughtered by the demon Raizen, won the tournament and wished to become an unstoppable demon. That man was named Toguro.

Name: Toguro Age: Ageless Height: Variable Weight: Variable Race: Demon Homeland: Demon World Champion of the Dark Tournament Ever since his victory and transformation into an unaging demon, Toguro became an infamous hitman in the criminal demon underworld. He remains the reigning champion of the Dark Tournament--that is, until he is challenged by Yusuke Urameshi…

Toguro’s primary demonic ability is that of expanding his muscle mass, and with it, his strength. He does so in numeric values, gradually raising his power to high percentages from his causal state. At a mere 40% of his full power, Toguro can snap a monster many times his own size in half with just a flex of his arm. While the Dark Tournament is generally fought in teams, Toguro’s immense strength has allowed him to clear entire teams by himself if his team is feeling lazy, tossing around five demons at once with his bare hands without breaking a sweat.

Practically a one man wrecking crew, at less than half his full power, he can kick a man’s head off of his shoulders with ease, as well as tear down a massive building from the inside. His own immense strength makes him strong enough to create bullets out of thin air--the aptly named Finger Flip Bullets are created simply by the absurd force created by Toguro flicking his finger, shooting air at an opponent with all the force of a gunshot--an absurd 2,500 feet per second.

Toguro’s strength isn’t simply physical. His increases of power also add to his demonic energy aura. Upon reaching levels of around 80%, his own energy can no longer contain itself, releasing as a bright red aura that can topple strong foes and level the Dark Tournament arena. He can also concentrate this aura and enhance his physical blows, a tactic that has instantly killed demons of a lower class.

Toguro also has a healing factor--allowing him to heal injuries such as when he was impaled on Kuwabara’s Spirit Sword, or given a nasty gash by Genkai’s energy blasts. Speaking of Kuwabara and Genkai, two of the most dangerous human fighters in the series, Toguro has beaten them both in battle, creating a nice topper on his already impressive resume of several Dark Tournament victories.

Fighting at 100% full power makes Toguro nearly immovable--however, it’s also quite taxing. Toguro is required to consume souls in order to keep this form together, however, he had little trouble consuming the souls of the entire Dark Tournament spectator’s crowd when this dilemma arose.

One of the most fear demons in existence--the bigger he is, the harder you fall.

The clash of the two embodiment of yin and yang, man and the demon that lies inside awoken! Who will survive this brawl?

Location: Japanese Hotel Plaza

DJ Funky Freeman’s Music Choice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6mDxjG49K8

Kazuya entered the multiplex plaza surrounded by bodyguards, walking stiffly in their three piece suits. “Right this way to your room, Mr. Mishima.” Kazuya was staying overnight for a convention--one where he’d reveal sensitive G-Corporation information anyone would kill for. Naturally his best bodyguards were on the job. Left of the lobby Kazuya entered was the hotel bar, where the staff was growing weary of a mountainous looking man, who had loitered on his select barstool, ordering several glasses of plain orange juice the entire day. The moment Kazuya’s guards lead him inside, the towering stranger’s attention, for the first time in hours, left his beverage. The guards only broke their circle around Kazuya when he whose name the room was under had to sign a piece of paperwork. Irritating as it was, the mogul of G-Corporation looked down to deliver his hancock. With a quick movement of his hand, Kazuya fulfilled the contract. He lifted his head, only to see the desk attendant with a look of horror painted on his face. Kazuya smirked as he turned around. Standing there was the behemoth from the bar, standing rather nonchalantly, the bloodied remains of the G-Corporation guards in his hands. “I thought I was being forward.” The assailant spoke. “But I don’t believe you noticed me.” “I did.” Kazuya confirmed, facing the stranger and cracking his knuckles as he did. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had any proper exercise.” “This is no exercise.” The man adjusted his sunglasses. “I’m the younger of the Toguro Brothers. You, Kazuya Mishima, have been affiliated with a very large bounty.” “My father’s doing?” Kazuya chuckled. “No one you’ve heard of.” Toguro removed his jacket. “I’ll make this quick.” Kazuya chuckled. “Oh, will you?” FIGHT! A quick kick the neck will end this quickly. Toguro tried to land a roundhouse kick on the spot, but Kazuya quickly reacted, grabbing hold of Toguro’s leg before his kick could hit him. Kazuya tightly gripped his foe’s leg before swinging him around, throwing Toguro a few feet into the air. Toguro crashed into a few neatly aligned chairs by the lobby desk. The socialites walking about the hotel gasped and scattered in fear. Kazuya crept toward where he threw his opponent, while Toguro pulled himself back up. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t feel like exerting myself today.” Toguro seemed to brace himself where he stood, straining his arms. “But I do many things I do not feel like.” Kazuya was surprised to see the stitchess on Toguro’s jacket burst off onto the floor. Toguro opened his mouth and let out a yell as his chest and arms gradually expanded. Before long, Toguro’s shirt and jacket could no longer contain his body, as his torso and arms developed immense muscles. “Fifty percent of my power should suffice.” Toguro admitted, taking a deep breath as he was relieved from the expanding sensation. He pushed his glasses back up his nose, readjusting to his newly grown body. “You think mere size will intimidate me?” Kazuya stepped forward, preparing to strike Toguro with his fist. His bare fist made contact with Toguro’s abs, and the second it did, he felt a pain shoot up his arm. It’s...hard as a rock! Kazuya cringed. “That’s how most people react.” Toguro said before sending Kazuya flying backwards with a single swing of his arm. Kazuya careened back, breaking through the decorative fish tank that stood tall in the lobby above the sign in desk. Kazuya picked himself up off of the hardwood floor, covered with water, flailing fish, and shards of glass. Toguro pointed his shoulder forward, not hesitating to charge forward. The man at the front desk yelped in fear before hopping out of the way as Toguro crashed right through the desk, through the wooden stand that the fish tank once sat atop of, and into Kazuya, who was recovering behind it. Kazuya took the full brunt of Toguro’s immense body in his midsection. Toguro continued to charge, until both crashed into the wall across the hall. Kazuya felt himself crushed between the the jagged walls and his foe’s suffocating body. I see I have to rely on my old crutch again… Kazuya felt the power of the Devil Gene seep into his hand. His palm glowed with red energy before he sent his fist into the bottom of Toguro’s jaw. This blow sent Toguro rocketing straight into the air, crashing through the ceiling and up into the floor above. Toguro landed hard, leaving a massive dent that nearly broke the floor, much to the horror of the couple inside the room, who were quick to run out with a scream. Kazuya had leapt up into the room through the whole his opponent’s body left. Toguro rubbed his chin before returning to his feet. “That sort of power...felt familiar.” Toguro said. “I’m sure it’s nothing you have experience with.” Kazuya indulged in a devilish smirk, his left, red eye gleaming. “You’d be surprised.” Toguro took a stance. “Either way, now I see why the demon underworld wants your head. As such...I have to take you seriously now.” Red energy surrounded Toguro as, once more, his body stretched and contorted, his muscles hardening and growing. Kazuya took a step back, he could feel his foe’s demonic energy. Toguro let out a pained yell as his shadow cast over Kazuya. “I’ll honor you…” Toguro sighed as his transformation ended. “With eighty percent of my power.” “Flattering.” Kazuya rolled his eyes, before swinging his leg around for another attempted kick. Toguro quickly blocked the blow, before returning with his own punch, which Kazuya leaned out of the way of. The two next attempted a punch at the same time, their fists colliding in precise unison. Their respective red energies sparked off of their knuckles each time they made contact. The two traded blows, blocking each other’s punches and kicks, neither landing a decisive blow until Toguro extended his arm, his incredibly thick fingers wrapping around Kazuya’s neck. “I’m not looking to spend the entirety of my reward for killing you on the repairs for this hotel.” Toguro droned. “This ends now.” Toguro tightened his grip--Kazuya felt immense pressure in his head. He wasn’t sure if his skull would burst, his neck would snap, or if he would simply suffocate. With a raspy cry for air and blood, Kazuya’s eye flashed red a second time, triggering the release of a shock wave from his body. Toguro was blown into the wall behind him. Kazuya inhaled, finally regaining his own circulation since he forced Toguro to release his grip. The Mishima heir panted shakily, his eye glowing and dulling repeatedly. “Not...yet…” Kazuya forced his demonic energies back into his own body, before standing up straight. “Still attached to your humanity, I see.” Toguro pried himself off the wall. “For your sake more than mine.” Kazuya barked. “You know, I’ll be a little disappointed now if I don’t push you to your limit.” Toguro lifted his arm, the entire length radiating with a blinding, red energy. Toguro leapt forward, swinging his arm with incredible force. Kazuya could only attempt to block before Toguro’s arm slammed into him, creating a massive explosion of red sparks. Kazuya crashed through the rice paper shutters separating the hotel room from the outside of the building. Kazuya rolled over the black tiles that covered the massive awning which etched out below the window, looming over the streets of Tokyo. The yellow, paper lanterns that hung off of them were the only source of light in the pitch black night. Toguro stepped toward the now empty door frame, looking out, the cool, night air tickling his face. Kazuya had clinged a hand to the awning fast enough to keep himself from rolling over the edge. “Afraid you’ll lose your balance?” Toguro raised a single hand, his thumb pursed behind his index finger. “You might want to be careful.” Without warning, Toguro flicked his thumb over his finger several times. Each time, he sent out a tiny pocket of air. Kazuya was initially confused, before the invisible shots of sheer force picked tiles off of the awning like bullets as Toguro’s aim crept toward him. Kazuya tried to climb further onto the awning, only to find himself riddled by the ‘bullets’ produced by Toguro. Blood sprayed from Kazuya’s shoulders as he endured each shot. Kazuya coughed up a splash of blood before he released his grip on the awning, tipping and falling over the edge. Toguro sighed. “Makes it something of a hassle to find the body…” The gigantic hitman stepped out onto the awning, stepping toward its edge with care. It couldn’t hurt to peek and see if he was still moving. ”This is far from over!” Before Toguro reached the edge of the awning, Kazuya shot up from the ground below, now clad in purple, dark energy. Massive, bat-like wings on his back beat up and down, carrying Kazuya through the air. Toguro couldn’t help but smile. “Showing your true colors at last.” Kazuya’s eyes were now both gleaming red, his body covered head to toe in purple scales. “DIE!” Kazuya’s eyes released a flash of red, demonic energy, two beams of red blazes crawled up the awning, slashing across Toguro’s shoulders. Toguro yelled in pain, as he grabbed his arm where Kazuya’s attack left nasty burns. Kazuya allowed his wings to carry him down to the tile, stepping towards Toguro. “Looks like it’s MY turn to push you to your limits!” Kazuya quickly turned around, slashing Toguro across his face with his tail. Blood sprayed from Toguro’s cheek as the strike knocked his sunglasses off of his face, sending them spinning off of the awning. Toguro gripped the Devil formed Kazuya’s tail, swinging him over his shoulder and back into the awning, tiles flipping over with each slam. Kazuya turned his neck around, and with a sinister smile, shot another set of eye lasers at Toguro’s face. Toguro released his firm hand on Kazuya, as he buckled backwards. Toguro wretched in pain while Kazuya returned to his feet. “I had go through hell and back for this power.” Kazuya trudged toward Toguro, grabbing him by his neck. “This is just a small taste of the pain I experienced!” Kazuya punched Toguro in the face, before winding around with a kick. Kazuya landed several bruising strikes on Toguro. One last kick sent Toguro hurdling over Kazuya’s leg, sending him crashing to the floor. Kazuya crossed his arms, his wings expanding proudly. The demonic heir chuckled. “So much for that reward you were working toward.” Kazuya turned around, before Toguro got back up. “Something of a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” Kazuya snapped back to his foe, before he felt his stomach drop at the sight of Toguro’s bruises disappearing off of his body. “Can’t say I saw this coming…” Toguro dusted himself off. “None who see me at this state live to tell the tale.” Toguro’s magenta hued aura burst around him. Toguro’s once human skin seemingly decayed on the spot, turning from a tan color to a rock like grey. Toguro’s body grew once more, his own legs snapping the tiles below his feet as his shoulders developed immense spires. Kazuya grit his teeth at the sight. “You’re fighting me well beyond 100% of my power now.” Toguro smiled. “Let’s settle this!” The two demons rushed at each other, and the instant they collided, the entire hotel shook. The pressure of their fists was nearly enough to tip the entire building, pieces of wood and metal flying all about. Both fighters yelled furiously, releasing auras of demonic energy that crashed into one another. From the point of view of someone far away, the entire layer of the building burst from below the rest of the hotel with crimson light. Demonic blazes and flames scattered as the floor the two fought on top of fell apart. Kazuya beat his wings, positive Toguro would fall to his demise while he made an escape. He couldn’t see very much within all of the dust and debris falling around him, and although this caused him to be somewhat aimless, he felt secure with his flight. ”Got you!” Kazuya was frightened by the sight of Toguro, bursting out of the clouds of dust and fire they had caused. The hulking demon wrapped his arms around Kazuya’s chest, dragging down the flying demon. “You aren’t going anywhere.” Toguro said, his tone remaining calm despite the calamity surrounded them both. The demon hitman began to savagely slam his fists into Kazuya’s back. Kazuya writhed in pain as the pressure Toguro applied forced him to descend faster and faster. The two crashed like a nosediving airplane into the ground below the hotel, Kazuya crushed beneath the immense pressure of his foe. An immense cloud of dirt rose from the impact of both fighters’ crashing bodies. Toguro stood tall above Kazuya, who was bloodied and smashed into the street. As the dust cleared, Toguro looked down. Despite all he had exerted, his foe was still alive. Kazuya wheezed as he tried to pick himself up. “I’ll...get you...for this!” Toguro, somewhat disappointed, kneeled down toward his foe. “I wish I didn’t have to dishonor you like this, but it seems an earnest death in combat simply won’t suffice.” Toguro looked Kazuya in the eyes, and took a deep breath. Before Kazuya knew it, he felt the very air in his chest escape through his mouth. His very life force was crawling out of his body and into Toguro’s. Toguro patiently allowed the stream of Kazuya’s soul to be passed unto him. Within moments, Kazuya was reverted to his human form, before he fell limp where he laid. Toguro stood back up, consuming Kazuya’s soul completely. KO Toguro pulled out his cell phone as he turned around, still in his fully demonic form. “Brother? I finished the job...no thanks to you.”

((Victory circle music: www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctk5WtJf63U&t=135s )) Kazuya’s Devil Gene let him hold his own, but he quickly found himself in over his head as Toguro’s power levels only continued to rise. Both had power capable of leveling buildings, but what Kazuya is only seen achieving with energy projection, Toguro is handily capable of with only his bare hands. Toguro outpaced Kazuya in skill as well. Kazuya has won his fair share of battles, but very rarely against anything more impressive than a mere human during the King of Iron Fist tournament. The only other super powerful, otherworldly being he’s been shown to explicitly keep pace with is his less experienced son, Jin, who inherited his powers. Toguro, on the other hand, has an incredibly long track record of not only demons ranging from his own ranking to below, but has also slain superpowered human spirit detectives who are specially trained to kill demons. Toguro was truly prepared for anything. Kazuya’s wings and long range energy attacks in Devil mode gave him an advantage in distancing himself from Toguro and an effective control over the battlefield, but Toguro’s energy waves were more than enough to compensate. And while Kazuya had an immense threshold for punishment, Toguro didn’t even need physical force to kill him. Considering Toguro could consume the souls of an entire stadium, doing the same to Kazuya and Devil if need be probably wasn’t much of a challenge. It’s highly unlikely Devil could possess Toguro if given the chance considering Toguro is, too, a demon among the highest calibre, a position he has protected in tonight’s battle. The winner...is Toguro.

Next time on Fight to Win...

Straight out of the ant hill! Ant Man is ready to battle! Against who, you ask? Stick around this blog to see!

#Fight To Win Fanfic #Kazuya Mishima #Toguro #tekken #Yu Yu Hakusho

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[SF] Next to Godliness

“PEOPLE ARE FUCKING DEAD!” Taro bellowed.

“Yes, Taro, we’re aware. Please sit down,” his father, the Shogun, said in response.

It’d been quite the day.

The planet of Tsukuyomi was an oddity in the Amaterasu Commonwealth of human space. Some would go so far as to call it an eyesoar. Amaterasu was the largest single dominion in the Human Quadrant of the Milky Way galaxy, controlling three entire solar system under one banner. Well, almost three entire systems: one lone planet stood in obnoxious defiance, the needless contrarian to the agreeable Amaterasu residents, a zit on its otherwise pristine face. That zit was Tsukuyomi, originally the capital of the Commonwealth when it was merely one system (also called Tsukuyomi, naturally). Unfortunately, they’d become so aggressively introspective and isolationist that they hadn’t even noticed when their neighboring planet of Amaterasu declared themselves independent, moved the capital to their own planet, took control of the system from them, and began expanding outwards under a new flag (an act the Tsukuyomi considered akin to a teenager dying their hair and taking a pretentious nickname).

“WELL THEN WHY AREN’T YOU DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT!?” Taro Tanaka, age 34, said from across the boardroom. His father, the Shogun, sat at the other end of the long white table. Everything in the room was white like it’d been bleached: the table, the chairs, the clothes the council members wore. It was all so terribly clean.

Outside was their world: everywhere were pure green-leafed trees and sparkling blue rivers. Their sun, Taiyo, burned bright above them. The people of their capital city, New Tokyo (not to be confused with the similarly named capital city of Amaterasu, disparagingly referred to as ‘Newer Tokyo’ or ‘New New Tokyo’ or, in less than polite company, ‘Jailbait Tokyo’), was a buzzing hive of white marble and limestone and silicon buildings with happy citizens, many of them government employees, in clean white clothes. And they were all in perfect health.

On Tsukuyomi, everyone was in perfect health.

Nobody was injured.

Everyone lived a very long time.

And everyone was beautiful.

Except Taro. Taro had what those on Old Earth called ‘the Hapsburg Jaw.’ He wasn’t entirely sure what that was, and he decided at a relatively young age he could live without a definitive answer.

But everyone else was beautiful. The air on Tsukuyomi was the cleanest any human had ever breathed. It had been clean when humans first arrived there- they hadn’t needed to do much terraforming at all! And they’d only made it cleaner. The soil was so rich and the crops so nutritious on Tsukuyomi that everyone’s dietary needs were met by plants alone. The situation was so good that when Tsukuyomi was first discovered, a bidding war occured in regards to who would get to settle it. An intense court case and a massive amount of boardroom meetings occurred as a result, and the winner was Taro’s answer, Shiro Tanaka. The second highest bidder had been a sore loser and moved to Amaterasu.

What was eventually found was that the air was so clean, the inhabitants could no longer go to other human planets without the aid of air filtration system- this was discovered when a group of spies went to Susanoo, the fifth planet from the sun called Taiyo, and dropped dead and were found lying in the street by local authorities. It… It had been an ordeal. Lotta paperwork, lotta proverbial (and less than proverbial) dick-sucking had been needed to soothe that particular injury.

“Junior Vice Undersecretary Tanaka, we’re doing everything we can,” his father said. Of course he referred to him by his title- he always did when he was irritated with him. It reminded Taro of how far down the ladder he was, and how he’d only gotten where he was in the first place because his father was Shogun.

What was eventually found, by Taro himself, was that everything was a bit too clean, and that everyone was a bit too healthy. And then one night, his girlfriend, Karen Callahan, introduced him to her parents, and found that she looked exactly like them. Both of them. To an uncanny degree. And that all her siblings looked like that too. And her grandmother. And her nieces and nephews. And the photographic projection of what their child would look like. And all their eyes were far too close together- they practically just one large eye, quite frankly.

It was at that point Taro began to see these things everywhere: people with eyes too close together, or too far apart; people with ears almost as big as their heads, or ears on different spots on each side (up to an including on their necks); people with necks the size of torsos, or as small as their thumbs. And a whole lot of people, based on a skim Taro then made through the marriage certificates, who got married despite having the same last name, or almost the same last name but spelled slightly different, or the same spelling but an annotation claiming they were pronounced differently. Also, awfully high infant mortality rates for those considered to have incompatible genes.

It was… An alarming discovery, to say the least.

“Oh really, Dad?” Taro said to his father. “And what exactly are we doing about this?”

“I said ‘we’, son, not ‘we’.”

“That’s the same thing, Dad. You literally just said the same thing.”

Taro’s father, the Shogun, briefly put a ponderous hand to his chin and said, “Oh, why so I did. Well, I meant ‘we’ as in the Council and I, not ‘we’ as in the Council and I and you.”

Taro blinked.

Taro had brought all this to his father, who had done the exact same ponderous pose when confronted with the realization that they were in fact a eugenics-based state. And that they had a tendency to decide people’s careers for them before they were born- since Taro had the genetic markers of a politician (which made sense- both his parents were politicians), he was a politician, despite most people who’d met him (including his father, the Shogun) confessing he had the disposition of a street cleaner (and, statistically, over 73% of Tsukuyomi citizens had two politicians for parents, and the federal government used their society’s unemployment rate of 0% as a massive point of national pride).

This had been a revelation to the Council, who took immediate action: they opened up Tsukuyomi to international trade for the first time in over a hundred years. They reopened official channels with Amaterasu, said that their rich soil and produce could be of immense value to their massive commonwealth. The Prime Minister of Amaterasu, Jose MacDonald, agreed immediately. And perhaps even more significantly, Prime Minister MacDonald decided to visit Tsukuyomi, the first non-native to do so in over a hundred and ten years.

Parades were prepared. People gathered in the federal district of the capital. And landing pad was built specifically for the Prime Minister who had gone to Tsukuyomi (whose approval ratings had back home had gone through the roof).

His Ornithopter landed on the pad. There were no bad days on Tsukuyomi (save for perhaps, somewhat subjectively, when the Shogun (Taro’s father) felt like rain)), and thus the momentous day was marked by clear skies and warm winds.

The Prime Minister stepped out into the sun and immediately dropped dead.

He then fell off the landing pad and broke his neck for good measure.

And, befitting of a member of the recently deceased who had eaten a hearty breakfast that day, the corpse proceeded to shit itself.

There was a very long, very pregnant (it called to mind Taro’s mother’s own twelve-month pregnancy for him) pause of abject silence settled over the capital. Everything was so white and clean that the sun shined off it a little too well; it got in everyone’s eyes, made them squint, preventing them from looking directly at what had happened and processing it in earnest.

The autopsy revealed the cause of death as asphyxiation: as it turned out, the Tsukuyomi’s inability to breathe the air of other human planets cut both ways. The air on Tsukuyomi was so clean it barely counted as air anymore. It was missing several trace elements that the body required to register that what it was breathing was in fact breathable.

The same fate befell the rest of Jose MacDonald’s entourage, as the overly-sterile air had made it into the cockpit of the ornithopter as well.

Hence, people were fucking dead, rather than a person, in the singular, was fucking dead.

“I see,” Taro said to his father the day after the entire traumatic affair. “So am I not welcomed here?”

“No,” Taro’s father, the Shogun, said. A member of the council, a woman named Zari Applebright, whispered into his ear. “Er, I’m sorry, I meant ‘no’ as in ‘no, you’re not not welcomed here,’ not ‘no’ as in ‘no, you’re not welcomed here.”

“So am I welcomed here?” Taro wrinkled his very, very large brow.

“No.”

“But you just said-”

“I said you’re not not welcomed here. Try to keep up, son.”

Taro blinked.

Taro exhaled through his nostrils.

Taro left the room and came back with an antique tommy gun, which he then used to mow down absolutely everyone present. People were fucking dead, indeed.

He screamed.

He kept screaming.

Literally would not stop screaming, even after everyone was dead and he was completely out of bullets;

Even after his co-conspirators came and grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back;

Even after someone tried to pry the gun from his hands, and he responded by crashing the gun into their face; still screaming;

Even after he was forced to fight off five other people with the empty gun as a blunt instrument; he won the fight, using the gun like an escrima stick and beating the piss out of everyone who got near him while moving throughout the room like a trained ballerina;

He would not stop screaming. He never even paused for a breath, it was all one continuous, pained scream.

Finally, however, he ran out of breath. As he groped for air, he was sucker-punched and lost consciousness.

As stated above, it was quite the day.

***

As it turned out, Taro’s co-conspirators were less on the ‘co’ and more on the ‘conspirators.’

As it turned out, while they had not instructed him to kill anyone, they knew full well that someone with his mental instability would absolutely do so. In fact, he’d exceeded their expectations quite magnificently.

As it turned out, they were fully prepared to lock him away in a padded cell when it was all over. They let him watch a broadcast of the new Shogun’s inaugural speech. It was the man who’d approached him about confronting the council in the first place, whom he’d first met with after realizing all the inbreeding and eugenics their society was indulging in. His name was Seth Galloway. Seth Galloways’s inaugural speech went a little something like this:

“My fellow citizens, we live in trying times. Our society is broken, clearly. We have been wallowing in our own stagnant decay for years. However, I do not blame you. I blame the former council. They were all killed today by disaffected youth Taro Tanaka.”

Youth? I’m thirty years old!

“Taro was the son of our former Shogun, and, in a state of outrage, killed his father and the council. Taro saw the truth of what our world had come to. While I don’t agree with his methods, his heart was in the right place. He is currently in an undisclosed facility receiving treatment for condition.”

I… I spent all day fingerpainting.

“While their end was rather inhumane, the former council did need replacement. Wholesale upheaval. And that is where we come in. The new council and myself will be treating not just the symptoms, but the disease itself. Starting today, we shall be a more open and less binding society!”

Bullshit!

Bullshit indeed.

Taro was allowed to watch the news once per week. Taro saw updates on the so called ‘cure’ Seth kept talking about:

To combat the lack of genetic diversity in their society, everyone under the age of fifty and above the age of eighteen was required to procreate with at least one complete stranger. It was known officially as ‘the strength of difference’ and unofficially ‘your societal obligation to BREED!’ And yet people went along with it;

The children produced by these strange affairs of sorts were given over to the government as state wards, raised in the long-neglected agricultural sector of the planet’s economy. When there were too many children for the available farm jobs, they started giving some of them over to the even more neglected factory sector;

Everyone was obligated to spend at least one full day a year picking up trash. If there was no trash, they had to make trash in order to then clean it up. They also had to have an officially licensed federal sponsor with them when doing so;

Drugs and alcohol were reintroduced to society. Children were required to have had their first cigarette by age six;

Everyone had to at some point in their lives come to visit Taro, who was kept in his padded cell and forbidden from bathing.

Eventually, Taro stopped watching the news.

Years passed. Taro recalled the mandatory five baths a day every member of their society had once been required to take, the requirement to report any person who might be blind or deaf or autistic or hyperactive or (God-forbid) bow-legged to the government for ‘processing’, the fact that biting your nails was an offense punishable by a fine of considerable heft. He was almost nostalgic, but couldn’t manage to delude himself that much.

Taro woke up one day and realized his gray hair was down to his waist. He did what he was required to by masturbating in front of his fans at the window in front of the padded cell. Then they all cleared away suddenly, before he’d finished masturbating (he’d managed to learn to hold off orgasm for as much as five hours at a time).

Someone had come to visit him: it was Karen. Or it was someone who looked a lot like Karen. Maybe it was her daughter. Or her granddaughter. Or her grandmother. It was hard to tell.

She pulled out a gun and fired a bullet into the glass. It shattered, and Karen extended him a hand. Taro, lacking any other source of stimulus even mildly more interesting, accepted it, and they walked out. He was bathed, trimmed, and clothed.

Karen, as they sat inside her ornithopter, said, “We need to stop the current administration. They’re doing-”

And then she told him a bunch of things he already knew.

“So basically we want your help overthrowing the government,” Karen concluded.

“Lemme guess,” Taro said, “You wanna put me in a room with Seth and the others and then I’ll lose my shit and kill them all, and then you’ll lock me up again and take over and pull a complete one-eighty?”

“Um…,” Karen stumbled.

“Well too bad,” Taro said, “Because I’ve already lost my shit. Just now, in fact.”

And then, before she could ask what in the fuck that meant, he threw her out of the ornithopter. She plummeted to her death. Taro’s only regret was not asking her how her mother/daughter was doing- he was genuinely curious. Taro took the ornithopter and flew to the nearest transit off-world. He purchased an air-filtration masked and hopped a flight- nobody recognized him with his beard shorn and hair cut and while wearing people-clothes.

Taro went to Mars, not sure what else to do. And on Tsukuyomi, everything changed, and absolutely nothing did, once again.

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turkeymonkey33-blog · 6 years ago

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Red Sox, Jacob deGrom, Bryce Harper and other unforgettable MLB moments from 2018

We’re in the final hours of 2018, but the memories aren’t going anywhere. Especially when it comes to baseball, where this year saw the Boston Red Sox win another World Series, the rise of a two-way phenom unlike anything the game has seen in decades, a historic season by a starting pitcher and the newest strategy to take the game by storm.

With 2019 on the horizon, we’re looking back at some of the moments from baseball in 2018 that will be etched in our brains for years to come — whether they’re storylines, amazing plays or record-setting achievements.

Red Sox win the World Series, David Price gets redemption

The Boston Red Sox were the undisputed kings of baseball in 2018. After winning a franchise record 108 games during the regular season, the Red Sox were even more convincing in October, going 11-3 against the New York Yankees, Houston Astros and Los Angeles Dodgers to win the franchise’s fourth World Series championship since 2004.

Along the way the Red Sox provided several moments their fanbase won’t soon forget. Perhaps no series of moments brought more relief and happiness than David Price’s postseason redemption. Price changed the narrative with a string of excellent outings as a starter and a reliever. He notched his first three career playoff victories this October, which included a fantastic seven-inning outing in the World Series clincher.

Price went from being the guy we expected to see fail in October, to being Alex Cora’s go-to man.

The Boston Red Sox dominated the 2018 baseball season. (AP)

Jacob deGrom’s incredible season amid Mets chaos

There wasn’t a single moment with Jacob deGrom. His season was a continuously brilliant display of dominance that ranked among the greatest pitching seasons in recent history. And what made it even more special was the consistently horrific display of incompetence that surrounded him.

DeGrom somehow managed to overcome the Mets miserable season to become the franchise’s fourth NL Cy Young award winner. He led MLB in ERA (1.70), FIP (1.99), xFIP (2.60) and home runs per nine innings (0.4). He also posted MLB single-season records with 24 consecutive quality starts and 29 straight outings of three runs or fewer.

DeGrom was a must-see attraction on a team that otherwise was entirely unwatchable.

The Ohtani Experiment thrills despite some disappointment

No baseball player was more fascinating in 2018 than Shohei Ohtani, the Japanese import who was attempting to be a two-way star for the Los Angeles Angels. It was all we heard about early in the baseball season, from his disappointing spring training to his even-more-impressive early regular season.

The most thrilling moment came April 8 when he flirted with a perfect game against the Oakland Athletics. It lasted into the seventh inning, with 12 strikeouts and was a great glimpse of Ohtani’s potential.

So was this: Ohtani changed the narrative of disappointment like only he could. When he started to have elbow troubles and eventually needed Tommy John surgery, Ohtani stopped pitching and just focused on hitting. Such is the advantage of being a two-way player. He finished the season with 22 homers and 61 RBIs, plus a 4-2 record with a 3.31 ERA in 10 starts on the mound — winning the AL Rookie of the Year. Though he’ll be out all of 2019, it looked like just the start of things to come for Ohtani.

Bryce Harper wins Home Run derby in Washington D.C.

If Bryce Harper moves on from the Washington Nationals this winter, this might go down as his signature moment in front of the home fans. Harper won the 2018 Home Run derby in dramatic fashion, besting Chicago Cubs slugger Kyle Schwarber with a walk-off in the championship round.

Harper, who has preferred not to participate in past derbys, decided to give the home fans a treat. Harper hit 45 home runs total during the event, including an incredible nine during one 47-second stretch.

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At the time, it felt like an epic goodbye from player to city. If that’s the case, it was quite a sendoff.

The Yankees homer into the history books

We knew the Yankees were going to hit a lot of dingers once they traded for Giancarlo Stanton. We knew they might, in fact, challenge for the all-time record. Actually, they set it.

The Yankees hit 267 homers in 2018, beating the Seattle Mariners’ mark of 264 in 1997. They were led by Stanton’s 38 bombs, but had six players who hit 20+, including Aaron Judge, Miguel Andujar and Gleyber Torres.

Two of the greatest plays you’ll ever see

We saw two of the best plays in 2018 on back-to-back August days, leaving plenty of people to wonder which was better. One was an outfield throw for the ages — A’s rookie Ramon Laureano making a great catch and following it with a 321-foot throw to complete a double play. It’s the definition of wow.

Then there was David Bote, who achieved every kid’s backyard dream for the Chicago Cubs: The Ultimate Grand Slam. Bote came up in the bottom of the ninth, with two outs, the bases loaded and his team down by three. He even had two strikes on him. Then he unleashed what is believed to be only the 15th Ultimate Grand Slam in history.

The rise of ‘bullpenning’

Baseball has shown us in recent years how the roles of relief pitchers have changed. It’s not enough for some teams to have a lock-down closer in the ninth, they want closers in the seventh, eighth and ninth innings.

In 2018, we also saw the opposite of the closer. We saw the invention of “the opener” — a relief pitcher that started a game. Many people scoffed at the idea when the Tampa Bay Rays first tried it, but by the postseason, we saw the Oakland A’s bullpenning the wild-card game and the Milwaukee Brewers doing it in the NLDS. The idea was that if you don’t have a great starter and have better relievers, why not just get to the good stuff?

In the grand history of baseball, perhaps this will be a short-term trend — maybe the wildcat offense of baseball — but right now, it’s definitely a thing. Teams are always looking for a way to maximize their chances of winning with the talent they have. And that’s what this one is all about.

The other not-so-wonderful trend to hit MLB

Speaking of trends: This one wasn’t great, but many young baseball players were on the “old tweets exposed” list, a 2018 social media phenomenon in which people dug through the old Twitter accounts of athletes and found less-than-suitable tweets from years past.

Josh Hader, the Milwaukee Brewers reliever, was the biggest case in MLB, since it happened while he was pitching in the All-Star Game. But the list of players also included Sean Newcomb and Trea Turner. This isn’t a baseball problem so much as it’s a young-athlete problem, one that probably won’t go anywhere in 2019.

New York Yankees’ Tyler Austin, center, rushes Boston Red Sox relief pitcher Joe Kelly, right, after being hit by a pitch during the seventh inning of a baseball game at Fenway Park in Boston. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa, File)

Red Sox-Yankees brawl in April

The Boston Red Sox-New York Yankees rivalry was alive and well in 2018. The tension reached a boiling point early — April 11 to be exact — when an aggressive slide by the Yankees Tyler Austin led to Joe Kelly drilling Austin with a 98 mph fastball.

Punches were thrown. Suspensions were handed out. Above all else, the stage was set for a season-long battle for the AL East crown.

While there were no more physical altercations during the season, the longtime rivals traded wins and even met in the postseason for the first time since 2004. The Red Sox emerged with the division title and the World Series title, which will no doubt fuel the Yankees fire in 2019.

The end of the Chief Wahoo era

One of baseball’s long-standing debates (don’t worry, there are dozens more) ended in 2018, as the Chief Wahoo era came to a close in Cleveland. For years now, people have clashed about whether Chief Wahoo — the red-faced Native American caricature who was a Cleveland Indians logo for 70 years — was a racist symbol.

Major League Baseball announced earlier this year that Wahoo was “no longer appropriate” for the Indians to wear, and thus 2018 would be his final year on the team’s uniforms. It concluded two years of talk on the subject between the team and the league. The Indians had already moved on to using the Block C as their primary logo a few years ago, so the change won’t be too drastic. But they wore a Wahoo patch on their jerseys and often wore Wahoo caps. Now, the Indians have already unveiled their first Wahoo-less uniforms in 70 years.

Danny Farquhar throws first pitch after life-threatening brain aneurysm

In an instant, Chicago White Sox pitcher Danny Farquhar went from battling an opposing batter to battling for his life. The veteran right-hander suffered a brain aneurysm during a game on April 21 that many doctors thought would require a “miracle” to survive.

Farquhar and his family got that miracle. The 31-year-old made a remarkable recovery, which allowed him to throw a very emotional first pitch before a White Sox game just six weeks later. The best news is Farquhar was cleared to resume his baseball career in November and is hopeful to pitch in MLB in 2019.

David Wright’s comeback and emotional sendoff

Few games elicited as much emotion as David Wright’s final game at Citi Field on Sept. 29.

The Mets all-time hits leader and long-time captain returned to the starting lineup for the first time in two years after battling back and shoulder injuries. At the same time, he also said goodbye, bringing an end to a career that will go down as one of the most notable in Mets history.

The Mets gave Wright a proper sendoff, allowing him to take the field one final time.

There was no dramatic final hit or diving play. There didn’t have to be. That Wright wore the Mets uniform one last time made it one of the season’s best moments.

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Mike Oz is a writer at Yahoo Sports. Contact him at [email protected] or follow him on Twitter!