THE FIGHT MEME

[memehound]

THE (end of may) FIGHT MEME



What else needs to be said? Release your inner warrior and partake in some epic (or hilariously bad) battles! Do you use a sword? Are you a martial arts master? Are you a wizard? Can you even fight?

It doesn't matter if you're just having a friendly spar or deciding the fate of the universe. You're suddenly filled with the urge to fight the next person you meet. Cut loose and show off your skills!

RULES

◘ Post with your character! List your fighting preferences if you'd like (Sparring, Death Battles, Anything Goes, etc.)
◘ Reply to someone else
◘ ROUND 1...
◘ ... FIGHT!

Here are some prompts to pick from (or RNG from):



1: VERBAL
Not all fights are physical. Maybe you're just really mad and really loud.

2: WUSSY
This is possibly the dumbest limp-wristed flail fight you've ever been involved in.

3: WITS
Because why would you beat someone into the ground when you can humiliate them with your massive intellect instead?

4: PRIZEFIGHT
There's an audience to watch and a prize at stake that only one of you can walk away with. Best bring your A-game.

5: SPARRING
You're fighting to improve. Whether you know your partner or whether you've
just met, you can be pretty sure you're walking away from this one.

6: GRUDGE MATCH
Your hated rival is in town. It's time for a rematch.

7: BAR FIGHT
Welcome to the mother of all drunken brawls.

8: YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS!
Maybe your opponent is your friend/sibling/love/other cherished person. Maybe
you're a pacifist. Either way, you're in this fight, but you really
don't want to be.

9: TO THE DEATH
This is it. Too much has happened for this to be anything but a fight to the end. Only one of you is walking away from this.

10: OBLIGATORY SMUT OPTION
Hate sex is the best. And some people like smut and some do not.

11: AGAINST THE HORDE
It's you and your ally against many. Demons, zombies, whatever. Rip and tear, until it is done.

12: GODMODE
You and your opponent both have world-breaking superpowers, and frankly everyone would be happier if you weren't fighting. You are, though, and it's awesome, even if there might not be much left when you're done.

13: RANDOM
Your very own personalized scenario.


Original here.

Comments

J’onn J’onzz 👽 DC - OTA

[yourfavorite]

Brief bio- A shapeshifting warrior poet alien, who splits his time between superheroics and many human lives, as he tries to find his place on Earth.

I'd love a team-up (it's his thing!), training or a big ol’ brawl.

helmut zemo | mcu | ota.

[discobaron]

[pick a prompt any prompt 1 thru 10 let's go! bonus points if it involves swords.]

[frozenassets]

HYDRA makes its biggest mistake in assuming Zemo was like all the other rich men; soft, helpless with their bodyguards.

Zemo's become a thorn in HYDRA's side: sometimes useful, but more often in the way, and much too principled to bring into the fold. And if it means making an example of Zemo to the powerful men that gravitate towards each other, then all the better.

The handler sets the asset loose in the bar, a private affair only for the rich and powerful - full of old luxury and shuttered off from the outside world. Until it isn't. The Soldier slips into the upper balcony like a cold breeze sneaking in, all black leather, muzzled, but armed only with a knife. The Director wants the Soldier to make a statement; no easy shot from afar, no poison. The asset waits, perched up on the railing in shadow and waits, still as stone, until at last, the Baron takes his usual seat at the end of the bar. Orders his favorite drink.

The only thing that gives the Soldier away is the creak of wood under his feet, before he slips off from the railing, to land heavily on the bar in a crash, scattering glasses as he lunges at Zemo, knife swiping in an arc at him.

[discobaron]

It's a familiar feeling for him by now - the feeling of being watched. The baron has grown accustomed to honing in on his surroundings, so much so that it's become second nature. He can be saying hello, shaking hands, politely making the rounds and socializing like he's doing now - and yet he's still in tune with what's going on in the background, eyes and ears both open. It's a delicate balancing act, but it's one he pulls off flawlessly.

Zemo eventually makes his way to the bar, his usual seat open and waiting for him. One of the usual bartenders is there and ready to set down a whiskey for him. Neat, of course. He offers a smile and a nod in thanks, and just as he's picking up the glass for that first sip - he stops, his posture straightening just a smidge, the hairs at the back of his neck raising.

He keeps looking straight ahead towards the rows of various liquor bottles displayed behind the bar, suddenly aware of his own heartbeat and how it's quickened. He's listening so intently, phasing out the chatter and the soft music, slowly raising the glass to his mouth.

He does manage to take that first sip of whiskey - but it swiftly turns into the only sip.

It all happens so fast:

The assailant drops down from seemingly out of nowhere. Zemo stands with such a force it sends his barstool skittering across the floor. He avoids the knife - just barely - with one fluid motion. And he wastes the rest of his drink by smashing the glass right into his attacker's face. It won't do much, but even earning himself mere seconds to retrieve his firearm from inside his jacket is helpful enough in such a pinch.

[frozenassets]

The bar cracks a little under the Soldier's weight and sinks, throwing off the landing just enough to give the target time to act as the Soldier adjusts his weight, brings the knife back and -

The asset flinches. Can't help himself as the glass shatters in his face in a spray of whiskey. The shards cut into what's left of his face unprotected by the muzzle, drawing up blood and scoring a line across the corner of his eye, and the whiskey itself burns and threatens to blind him. It does at first. Everything goes blurry then black as his eyes scrunch closed and the cuts blaze with fire. And not once does the Soldier make a sound. Not even a grunt of pain. The thing attacking Zemo is eerily silent.

But it's not enough to throw him off. He doesn't need to see the target to kill him. He can still smell the man's expensive cologne, the pomade in his hair, hear the pounding of his heart - and hear the firearm being drawn from within the target's coat.

Eyes closed, whisky and blood dripping down the Soldier's face, the asset drops off the bar into a crouch to avoid presenting his head as a target, then darts towards the target's location, knife swinging in a nasty stab upwards at where the heart would likely be.

[discobaron]

The place clears out almost instantly - and while the extra coverage and distractions would be nice (it's not like Zemo particularly cares about collateral damage), at least there isn't much getting in the way of his escape. He knows this club like the back of his hand, all the exits both conventional and not. All he has to do is slow him down enough - which... it can't be that difficult, right? (The baron has no idea. At least, not yet.) One versus one is fine. He's done it plenty of times.

Backing away from the bar, his eyes don't leave the attacker, and he slips the handgun from his hidden holster. No safety, already loaded. He hates having to resort to this on what should've been a relaxing evening out, but he's got no choice. He aims and fires as boots hit the floor, looking to disarm instead of kill, but the mystery man is too quick. The bullet ends up in the wood of the bar and Zemo jumps back, the blade of the knife snagging the material of his jacket.

Much too close for comfort, his eyes widen for the briefest moment before instinct kicks in and he twists away, attempting to slip out of the garment before the knife can cut entirely through the front panel and offer the assassin another free swipe at him.

Pour one out for Zemo's coat

[frozenassets]

The Soldier's eyes are on fire. Maybe not so damaged that he's permanently blinded, but it's not like he can stop the mission to rinse it. Pain twists the Soldier's face, pain furrowing his eyebrows above the mask as his head tilts this way and that as he blindly seeks for the target. When the gun discharges and wood sprays up nearby, the Soldier doesn't react like an ordinary man; no flinch at how close he'd come to getting shot. No fear.

He's been shot before and kept on coming. The target would need to put a bullet in his head to make him stop. And that might not be enough if his aim isn't perfect.

The knife catches something that doesn't feel like he hit home. The asset actually gets thrown off for a vital moment when the target slips right free of the jacket, leaving it tangling up the knife and his arm. The Soldier has to stop, metal arm whirring as he rips the jacket off, shredding it like so much paper as he readjusts his grip on the knife.

It cost him though. The Soldier settles into a crouch, face moving this way and that as he tries to sense where the target went.

[petpsychopath]

[OOC: Interested in something along the lines of Zemo giving the Dora Milaje the slip and Buck's supposed to bring him back in. Could lead into 10-ish if you ship them. And, I mean, if Zemo is wielding a sword, I will have no complaints. I can write the starter if you're down.]

[discobaron]

[ooc: hi yes!! absolutely interested - option #10 included. 😏 please go ahead - i'll be working on my inbox this evening. 💜]

[petpsychopath]

Bucky was almost impressed that Zemo managed to give the Dora Milaje the slip not once but twice. To be fair, the first time was their fault. They provided the distraction he needed but the second time was all him. And they could have easily re-collected him themselves, but they called him in because Zemo was being such a pain and this whole thing was his fault to begin with. He had to clean up his own damn mess.

The safe house he tracked the Baron to was boujee with decent security, but he was also the former Winter Soldier. Getting in wasn't an issue. Waiting for Zemo to get back from whatever little soirée he'd been attending was the annoying part. Sharp hearing heard the door unlock as he sat comfortably on Zemo's couch. As soon as the door opened, he spoke, "Nice place. Didn't expect you to be a collector of blades, but it's a nice choice." He stood up. "You're going back, Zemo."

[discobaron]

Spending nearly a decade in jail did the unthinkable to his outlook, and now Zemo's all about self-preservation. He isn't about to forfeit one jail for another, much worse one. Not if he can help it.

Despite his promises to Bucky and Sam, despite his constant reassurances that he'll go quietly once his time is up - the baron's perspective shifts once again. Over the course of this little field mission he realizes he doesn't want to be locked up again. He shouldn't have to. There's so much more he can do out here, the brief opportunity to stretch his legs causing him to feel quite greedy.

Upon approaching the house, Zemo's casual gait becomes something much more hesitant. Something feels off, but he's not quite sure what at first. So he takes it upon himself to sweep the outside before ultimately heading to the front door. He's always so in tune with his surroundings, expecting the worst at any given moment - that's what comes with a reputation such as his.

And he isn't even mildly surprised once he crosses the threshold.

"You're late," is all he says in response to Bucky's greeting, barely regarding him with so much as a glance. Zemo shrugs out of his coat as he bumps the door closed behind him, and the garment ends up hanging on a hook on the wall. "I expected you'd find me much sooner."

He finally looks up, taking a few steps forward.

"Hello James." There's that familiar twinkle of mischief in his eyes, the slightest smirk of his lips. "I see you've made yourself comfortable. No broken windows from what I could see outside. Glad you've kept your manners."

Cassie Cage | Mortal Kombat | OTA

[nutkrusher]

[I mean, it's kinda her wheelhouse. Anything works except 2.]

Aedre Knightly | OC | Original | F/M, OTA gen/platonic

[shylittleflame]

[She's 4'8, smol, and will curbstomp people for fun in a fight when she gets really into the adrenaline.]

Rinko Asagi | Murcielago

[punishing_love]

[Tiny violent knife child.]

[future_of_the_moon]

(OoC: Wanna attack a magical girl?)

Gabriel | Ultrakill | OTA

[jermastrat]

[It's pretty much the main reason he even exists to begin with. Good for any prompt!]

yaaayyyy deathmatch

[temperedguardian]

[ They're at their usual post when Gabriel arrives back from Hell. They're hoping for good news, and seeing as Gabriel isn't yet dead at the hands of the machine he was defeated by before, it seems likely that they'll get it. ]

Gabriel. [ They go to greet him, sheathing their sword. ] Is it well with you?

woooooooo

[jermastrat]

[The air with which the archangel arrives is not the same. It isn't laden with the shame he'd felt at his first defeat, but so too does it lack that familiar, brilliant pride that was typical unto him.]

Cassiel.

[The other angel had sheathed their sword.

Gabriel's remained in his hands.]

... No. But soon, it shall be.

[The words held fathomless gravity, though Gabriel's wings blazed in shades of blue and gold, betraying the archangel's true, galvanized state.]

I bear a message for the Council, for all of Heaven ... And for you, as well.

[temperedguardian]

[ They stiffen at his words. Still, they don't draw their sword.

But certainly, the air around Gabriel is different today... ]

What message would that be?

[jermastrat]

That this- [He lifted his sword, lifted Justice, upwards, indicating both the senate hall behind Cassiel and indeed the angel themselves,] Is a foundation built upon a lie. A mockery of justice, tyranny cloaked beneath a facade of righteousness.

This institution, and all who uphold it, are despots, their colluders, or are otherwise indifferent to the suffering they perpetuate.

[Indifferent is pointed, the sword remains steady but the word is hurled like a javelin.]

I have been to the deepest pits of Hell, I have done battle with the invaders that infest it, and within its darkest and furthest flung halls I have felt His aching, abiding absence... The Father has gone, and with it His Will.

This rule of terror ends, Cassiel, here and now.

Sakata Gintoki | Gintama | OTA

[pachintoki]

(as serious or non-serious as you want)

[fair_soldier]

[Prizefight, maybe, for some kind of fistfighting tournament?]

[pachintoki]

[sorry for the slow; would you still be up for something?]

[fair_soldier]

[Absolutely!]

yuri himemiya, prince of stride

[menkoi]

[ note: just a common teenage thug no superpowers or anything!! he could be defending himself, defending you, or just in a bad mood. (alternately: a good mood? fightdate?) we can write out a fight if desired but i would rather focus on the aftermath ]