THE FIGHT MEME

[memehound]

THE (august) 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

[pricklywolf]

He can feel Eskel watching him. And it really is just the two of them. Maybe he can drop his guard, just for the night, so Eskel won't keep fussing over him. He's been a big enough hassle this night.

"I tried to find her. Made Vesemir tell me where he'd picked me up from, just before the passes cleared in spring."

[wolfdogwitcher]

He's surprised that Vesemir had allowed such a thing, but perhaps he thought Lambert needed to learn something, that he would stop asking once he understood what a painful and fruitless endeavor it was likely to be. What it most likely was, in the end.

"And?" He prompts, quietly.

[pricklywolf]

He sighs, still unsure if he wants to speak it out loud. He started this, though. "I saw the shitty little shack we lived in. It was falling apart, abandoned. So I tied my horse to a tree nearby and went into the little town, asked around for the lady who'd lived there." It's still a very raw wound, but he isn't sure he feels anything other than anger. "They're both dead. Have been for years. They didn't know what happened, but she died before he did."

[wolfdogwitcher]

"I'm sorry, Lamb." Eskel says reaching to give his brother a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "I'm really, really sorry." He hopes Lambert can tell how much he means it. He might not understand the other wolf's need to pry into his background, into whatever life must have been so full of suffering and privation that giving her son to the monsters up in the mountains had seemed like the kinder choice (for Lambert or for her he didn't care to speculate), but he could see that whatever answers Lambert had found in doing so had hurt him deeply.

[pricklywolf]

"He probably beat her to death." He's never told anyone about his family, really. But the squeeze to his shoulder is comforting enough that he decides maybe it's time he did. "He used to get drunk and beat us both. Every time he left, we'd pray to the gods he wouldn't come back. One time, he almost didn't."

[wolfdogwitcher]

The large rough hand on his shoulder stays where it is, holding fast. Witchers might be said to lack emotional finesse but they know poisons and all poisons must be purged one way or another. So he'll hold his brother while the poison comes up, metaphorically speaking.

"He'd have killed you too. Wouldn't have wanted you to grow into a man, into somebody who could hit back." He looks over at Lambert. "Were you gonna kill him, if you found him?

[pricklywolf]

"I was. I ended up setting the shack on fire instead. He's the whole reason I was sent to Kaer Morhen." Lambert shifts, scooting himself closer to the older wolf. "He should've died the night he almost didn't come home. Stupid prick got lost, walked into a nest of nekkers. Some fucking witcher saved him. I ended up as payment."

[wolfdogwitcher]

He hadn't been expecting that at all and it's a sensation not dissimilar to bring kicked in the stones.

"Fuck. I..." He doesn't know what to say. He sees Lambert shift closer to him and he shifts up onto his good elbow. It would have been a terrible public relations move for anyone to stumble on this scene but fuck it. Lambert was his brother, goddamn it. His "little" brother, the last generation of the Kaer Morhen witchers. One of only a mere handful of people in the whole wide world Eskel would die for, step off the Path for, break the Code for, who could make Eskel admit that they weren't all as empty inside as the books say.

"Goddamn. And that's why you hate it all so much..."

[pricklywolf]

"Yeah..." Getting his past out there felt...odd. It twists his gut in knots, makes him feel tense. He isn't sure if he wants to be held close or get up and run. In all honesty, he's leaning towards the latter, and the only thing that's stopping him is the fact that he doesn't want to leave Eskel alone.

"I know none of us really got a choice, but...But I was fucking taken. All so that prick could live."

[wolfdogwitcher]

"If I'd known..." Eskel says, gaze fixed on a half-moon high above them. "If I'd known I'd have held him down for you while you ripped his guts out. I know that don't mean much now but...you didn't fucking deserve that and neither did your mom. And you shouldn't have had to go back alone." Or maybe he did. All of them had stupid shit they had to face down at some point and gods knew Eskel had no business dictating to anyone how they should handle their problems. "Man, fuck the Law of Surprise."

[pricklywolf]

"Means enough," Lambert says quietly. Then he decides to just stop giving a fuck and moves so he can lay his head on his brother's lap. "It's a shit law. Fuck whoever came up with it. I'd rather just not get paid than risk taking some kid from their family."

[wolfdogwitcher]

"It seems to go against the person needing payment more often than not." Eskel notes, scratching his facial scar. "Just once I'd like to meet somebody who got something small and fun a cask of mead or a dog or something. I mean, I got Scorpion and that was great but also..." He shrugs. He'd rather not talk about his Unexpected Child, or Geralt's.

At least Lambert wasn't cursed, just mouthy.

[pricklywolf]

Lambert raises a brow, looking up to watch his older brother. He was curious about what Eskel had been about to say, but he knows when not to pry.

"Doubt it's ever happened. Destiny doesn't play nice with us. She's a bitch. So fuck Destiny."

[wolfdogwitcher]

Eskel shakes his head.

"Fuck Destiny." He echoes. "It doesn't seem worth it. Like any mistress, it seems fun for a while but one day she's going to be the death of you." He brushes his fingers through Lambert's wet hair.

"You should get some sleep." He says. "I'll sit watch a while, I doubt my shoulder is going to let me really get comfortable for a while."

[pricklywolf]

"You keep petting me like that and I'll be out like that poor bastard I put through a table," he says, grinning up at Eskel. It's the closest he'll ever get to actually asking for what he wants. His past still weighs heavy on him, making him feel like he's still in that village watching his childhood home be devoured by flames, letting smoke curl through his lungs. But something good did come of it. He's got Eskel, who cares enough to listen instead of just writing Lambert off as an explosive force to keep at arm's length.

His eyes close and he finally drifts off. Tomorrow, he'll likely act as if nothing happened, but he doubts Eskel would dare make him talk about it again.

[wolfdogwitcher]

He feels his brother drop off to sleep, his breathing slows and his heart slowing to imperceptibility by human senses. He lets his bad arm rest around the younger witcher's shoulders: it's not doing much else, it might as well bring Lambert some comfort. His other hand supports him, not far from his swords. Alone with his thoughts, whatever they might be, the older witcher allows his brother to get a night of real sleep. They were so few and far between, for men like them.

[pricklywolf]

Lambert gets a couple of hours of decent sleep. Despite the comfort Eskel provided, however, his recently dredged-up memories bring with them nightmares. Flickering flames, his mother's screams, his father's slurred insults and hurled fists. The broken cry of a young boy that is powerless to stop any of it. It gives way to more cries, other boys surrounding him as they're tortured. It's still his father's voice, now telling him how he'll never be good enough, how he deserves to suffer.

That all shrinks to a singular feeling: a noose tight around his neck.

He wakes up struggling, clawing at what is actually an arm thrown over his shoulders.

[wolfdogwitcher]

"Shit--!" The struggle shakes him out of a semi-meditative state. Thankfully, his arm (mostly) responds properly, jerking free of Lambert's grasp. "Lambert! Hey, wake up. You're fine, it's fine!" He gives the other witcher a rough shake.

[pricklywolf]

The rough shake is enough to wake him up. His eyes fly open as he sits up abruptly, and it takes him a moment of staring at his surroundings to register that he is not, in fact, dead. "Sorry. 'M sorry," he murmurs as he finally relaxes.

He's used to nightmares. He's pretty sure they all are.

[wolfdogwitcher]

Narrowly avoiding getting his nose broken on Lambert's forehead, he gives the other witcher his space. It troubles him, the way his brother had clawed at his throat. But he gives the man a little space to breathe. And he feels it would spare both their dignities if he does so.

[pricklywolf]

Lambert is glad for the space. He rests his elbows on his knees and relaxes like that, staring at the blanket covering him. He doesn't want to seem weak, though, so he attempts a joke.

"Next time you want a hug, go hug your horse."

[wolfdogwitcher]

And Eskel indulges the joke, ruffling Lambert's hair as if the other man were the small and angry boy he had once been. And with his previously unresponsive hand at that.

"Can't, Scorpion's not a hugger." He says flatly. "You needed to wake up anyway, lazybones." Light, easy, back and forth, affectionate insults. Of course, the witchers were not unaccustomed to one another's nightmares. The hideously empty dormitories of Kaer Morhen often rang at night with the howls of boys in fear or pain. No one likes to talk about how often they wake up the same way as adults.

"Come on, get off me and I see if I can scrape together some breakfast."

[pricklywolf]

He tries to duck out from under the older witcher's hand, simultaneously scooting further down his bedroll. Nightmares were normal, but Lambert did his best to try and seem unaffected, even if he never got rid of the childhood urge to run to an older boy, or even Vesemir when they were particularly horrific.

"Then wake me up before hugging me next time, wiseass." He turns to watch Eskel, mostly to make sure the other man is at least okay. "I see you're using that lame arm already. Want me to check the wound after we eat?"

[wolfdogwitcher]

"Might have you re-wrap it so it doesn't keep scraping up against my armor." He says, shrugging. "Mostly alright, fingers still feel like they're full of bees. But getting better. Another night of rest and I'll be punching peasants with the best of them." He says, flexing his fingers as he extricates himself from the other witcher. "I bet I could find some duck eggs for breakfast." He declares. As much for something to break up the monotony of dried meat and fruit as to give Lambert a moment alone to collect himself.

"Be right back." And with that, the wolf set off amongst the cat-tails and mossy rocks near the edge of the pond.

[pricklywolf]

"You don't come back with duck eggs, I'll leave you here!" he calls after his brother. It's an empty threat. He's not leaving Eskel until he can be sure that hand is fully functional.

As soon as Eskel's out of sight, Lambert scrubs his hands over his face, like it'll erase the nightmare from his mind. He should've listened to their mentor. Vesemir had warned him it would serve no purpose, that Lambert's mother wouldn't recognize him, or worse, would be horrified to see what he'd become. If she was alive at all. It's a good thing the oldest wolf wasn't the I-told-you-so type when it came to certain matters.

He stands and stretches, turning his mind to the task of simply getting dressed. His trousers are dry, and both their boots. Which is lucky, because the morning feels a bit chilly.