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Prompt:
What horrible crime or petty conflict would warrant the character above getting the snot kicked out of them?
Example:
Character A's bio: *Doesn't like rats*
Character B's response: "Has Ratatouille taught you nothing?! You've gotta honor the little rat controlling your life, not diss him!" Character B then proceeds to challenge Character A to a formal jousting bout. If Character B wins, the two will watch a 24-hour rat-themed movie marathon.
Rules:
- Wait until three people have posted before posting again. This is null if it has been 12 hours and one person has responded after you.
- Put effort into your responses. Let's use the golden rule!
- If you describe a fight, don't be gory.
- Reference bios to keep the responses fun!
Camden or your own OC can start! First response's choice ;]
The bar was loud and chattering, and gordon was very much drunk and hungry. Too hungry.
When the other had accidentally knocked into his shoulder he shot the smaller woman a nasty look, his skin prickling. Yet he saw an easy target, and easy meal to quiet that knawing and aching hunger that raked down his insides.
"Ay, watch your fuckin step. Bitch." He spat, grabbing the others wrist as he slurred through his words. His skin was clamy, and the way his mouth salivated pointed every bit towards a starving man.
A few people tried to pull him off, but he went ham, only to be knocked flat on his ass by the seemingly much more powerful woman- who was... floating? Levitating?? All he knew was he was DEFINITELY not going to win this fight, that's for sure.
aujgfeythgfh jjygimma write a follow up! might take a bit but I s t g]
To be fair, M. Pourife was... A pacifist at heart. At least for the most part? He didn't like being aggressive, nor throwing the first punch in a fight - assuming that he liked punching people in the first place. (Personally, he believed himself to be more of a kicker than anything else, in spite of his weaker leg. Ouch.)
Yet something about this other man caused goosebumps to form on his skin, and that wasn't a good thing at all. A scientist never had goosebumps! The rumors, nonetheless, made the scientist shiver, for the other party was rumored to be sharing a body with a spirit, one that whispered sweet nothings into his ear and sometimes drove him to commit heinous acts. But for what reason exactly, the scientist didn't know. Maybe he wanted to know, to clear things up a bit.
But for the most part, he didn't really want to. The existence of a spirit in general befuddled his mind and his dedication to rational, natural explanations. It forced him to think harder than he had to, and when his dogma was challenged, the yellow journals sometimes claimed that M. Pourife was a particularly volatile, perhaps vitriolic individual. Those, of course, just stemmed from rumors. There was no genuine truth in that tabloid hearsay. Right?
Right?
It was now or never, considering that the other party was more of a threat to the mustachioed fellow than vice versa... Someone had to strike, and M. Pourife - with great reluctance - supposed that it had to be himself.
"We both know that this is for self-defense," sighed the man after what seemed like an infinity of silence. He shifted his feet ever so slightly, allowing his shoes to feel the concrete beneath them as he took the time to parse his words. One always had to be careful, and when malevolent spirits were concerned, this principle seemed particularly true. "I do not want to hurt you ,though I cannot say for... Vice versa. How can I know that you will not snap on me in an instant and try to freeze me?" The man gazed up at the other party with widened eyes, all senses focused on him just in case. Just in case he needed to deliver a kick.
"It seems unnatural, but... It makes sense, would you agree? We are both academics, and so, the reasoning has to be logical... Even for issues that seem to stretch beyond that." Or whatever that meant, really.
oh god..... I'm so sorry, sweet Jackson.... M. Pourife has one (1) brain cell, but at least this time, he's using it to... try to not get beat up.
here's a follow-up....
As soon as M. Pourife saw the clenched fists, he... Froze. His mind flashed over to the possibility of him getting beat up, and for a pacifistic man who was just a little bit too oblivious for anyone's good, the potential situation was just a little bit terrifying!
"Is... Is everything okay?" he slowly asked with a twitch of his mustache. For too long, the middle-aged man thought the other party was drunk, leading him to place an excessive amount of sympathy in his voice; hell, at some points, he might've even come off as patronizing, but that also seemed to escape the scientist's notice as he rubbed the back of his neck and cocked his head at the younger thief. By now, his steps had stilled, and it seemed that he was allowing the blond to stumble over to him.
Then, it dawned upon him.
In a hastier inflection, the scientist waved his (empty) hands before insisting, "Look, I can give you my money if you need it! Just... Please do not hurt me! I am just... An unarmed man, that is all!" Oh, to be clueless to the concept of infatuation...
It showed quite painfully as the word hit him. A "date." What did that even mean? M. Pourife tensed his muscles even further as he scratched at his forehead and frowned at the other party, though it was more out of confusion than actual contempt or disdain. With a cough, he ran his fingers through the hair sparsely adorning the sides of his temples. Guess who hadn't tried asking his interns what a "date" even meant? Poor scientist was still adrift in a sea of ignorance as he twiddled with his fingers ever so cautiously.
With careful parsing, he replied, "I just have no idea what a date is... Sir." That was sort of a lie; based on context clues, it seemed that a date was... Nice? It seemed like a friendly outing, and even if it did seem a bit awkward, it was definitely better than getting his ass beaten into a pulp. "I never went on one before, nor even heard of it," hummed M. Pourife as a faintly concerned flicker entered his eyes, "I was always too busy to focus on such casual fare, and..." He glanced down at his wrist, as if he even had a watch on it in the first place.
"... I think I might be busy now." Nice!
As beads of sweat started to form on his forehead, M. Pourife then suddenly stated, "But... I could try it out later. I guess. I do not know when, but... Later. Just..." He trailed off, his voice transforming into a whimper that seemed quite uncharacteristic for someone like himself. "... Please, do not fight. There is always a better option than violence, after all."
"I oughta beat you up," Jackson sniffed. He swaggered in his step, his eyes red and puffy. To an observer, he may have appeared drunk, but by the sorrow on his face and the lack of a scent around him, he was simple a man overwhelmed with his emotions. "You'd want that, wouldn't you?" he asked, voice cracking. "You'd rather I beat you up and take your wallet than take you on a date? I'd treat you right, you know! I'd take you to a fancy dinner and let you order whatever! Then we'd see a movie then go on a walk together! I'd get a horse carriage too, if you wanted! I'd spoil you!" He sobbed. He should just steal all M. Pourife's lab equipment, it worked with Smithson! He'd... He'd take his microscope next time when he wasn't looking!
Despite the tears in his eyes, he held up two shaky fists. "So you wanna fight?! Since I'm not good enough for you?!"
"Don't get me wrong, you look like a promising guy," Philomena huffed, placing her hands on her hips. She licked her lips as she shifted her feet.
"I mean, you might have good morals, it's just... something about you is...off, but I can't quite put my finger on it." she continued.
"Alright, I'll trust you with my stuff. If I find a single penny missing in that purse, I'm gonna bite off your fingers." She maintained a serious tone before letting out a snort, attempting to stifle her laughter.
Unlike his edgy friend who definitely killed a man before (well, maybe), Johnson didn't crave violence, at least not physically.
You see that lanky ass frame? Those stick arms? He couldn't land a punch on anyone even if he tried with all his might, and honestly, even if the canine wasn't the strongest opponent either, he was still going to lose quite miserably against her.
And that made him pissy, because it reminded him of his friend - who also happened to be associated with a canine. It was true that the canines were... Different - his friend being associated with a wolf, and the other party just being a dog. For Johnson, though, they were essentially the same thing, as he shuffled his feet in an agitated fashion and attempted (in vain) to not just pace around the other party and go into a tirade at length about how much of a nuisance she was being.
"Your energy, your calmness that borders on apathy at times," he grunted with a wave of his hand, "I don't understand it, really. My friend likes you for that, of course, but let me make that clear. I don't. Hell, if I said otherwise before, I take that back. You're too much of an optimist, one who's too nice with their words. I bet you sugarcoat if you could, and that's pretty weak. Get to the point, lest you want other people to give you the same weaselly language each time they speak with you." Accordingly, he gesticulated, one of the most prominent gestures being his fingers moving up and down to mockingly imitate the canine's speech pattern.
In fact, he was being a hypocrite. Disgusting. What happened to wanting to get more acquainted with her in time?
Johnson stared at the canine once more, from her bright markings to her yellowish fur, before sniffing, "You know what? Normally I wouldn't even consider this option. Mostly because I know you and my friend get along, and if you whine about it like some lost puppy, she's going to beat my ass. But this time..." His usually stoic expression suddenly changed, for a grin started to appear on his face. "... I don't give a shit," he hissed in between clenched teeth before pulling out a red-and-white capsule, "I'll do anything to prove the point, and if she wants to kill me for it, then so be it. She can't do much these days. Brown knows that I can hurt her without even laying a finger on her, and that's much, much more powerful than whatever you may be able to do, even with the encouragement you constantly fuel yourself with."
honestly bless you for not only the necromancy, but also the chance for me to beat the shit out of Johnson. it's only what he deserves tbh- đ
time for... a follow-up....
Johnson had heard from the deity from his friend, who was... Surprisingly reserved as she brought up his proclivities to jeering words and mischievous antics. She seemed rather hesitant when he tried asking more about him, given that - well - he was the literal antithesis of what Johnson stood for. The aristocrat himself defined law and order thanks to his hefty position as one of the "oldblood" aristocrats of his region, while this fellow seemed more than happy to tear down the walls that the middle-aged man had built up.
Good. It was what Johnson deserved, really.
Besides, he kind of believed that anyone who could reduce his normally standoffish, brash friend to a meek shell of herself was worth examining further, and so he had sent a force to look for the fellow. Unsurprisingly, however, it was vice versa; the deity had found him while the latter was caught unaware, and it was... Rather humiliating, in all honesty!
"Don't call me that," he snarled while sitting himself up in his seat, "You know how... Much disrespect that connotes, right? Even if you find it fitting to yourself, it's still rather political to refer to someone by their full name until you get to know them better. Speaking of which..." Johnson was about to snap his fingers for dramatic effect, but it seemed that the other party had taken all of his bravado, as the latter now proceeded to ramble about... Socking him? Hey there!
He bit back a hiss in favor of maintaining a stoic expression and muttering, "You... You really have no idea how that works, huh? I mean... In the sense that what you consider improper is likely just fine by me, and vice versa- Woah there!" The aristocrat's eyes widened as the previously levitating deity now touched his feet against the ground, though he continued to be... A menace, in Johnson's eyes. Funny. Two menaces in one scene, with one being far more chaotic than the other. This will be fine.
"It's called figurative language, sir," grunted Johnson with a roll of his eyes while wagging a finger at the other party's nose, "I don't work with ice, for that by itself is too weak. They care more about my composure, my ability to remain calm and stoic in the face of ongoing difficulty than whatever inconsistency you might be bringing up. Besides..." Johnson's voice started to hum as he took a step closer to his little nemesis. "... As someone who claims to be omnipotent, you really should know better. For such a powerful being to make a simple mistake... It's rather unfortunate, really. Maybe you should sink yourself lower into the dirt for a bit, and see what happens."
And that was exactly what Johnson deserved.
Suddenly, the air started to become cold, and the aristocrat spat under his breath as he tugged his cloak against his measly little frame. It was... Pitiful, actually, seeing him like this. Perhaps that was an easy way to break his unfeeling exterior; just turn down the temperature a bit and watch him suffer. But that didn't stop there, of course! Not when dealing with a prick such as Johnson! The man looked up to see an unfamiliar cup floating over his head, but before he opened his mouth to remark about why the hell it was there, the container itself disappeared. But not the liquid! That ended up rushing down onto the (not-so) poor fellow, and he was... Soaked in a reddish liquid that felt like blood, but cooler and thinner.
Classic.
Johnson now suddenly understood why Brown wasn't very... Happy when dealing with the deity, though he still didn't feel much sympathy for her. Bitch.
Instead, he heaved out a sigh after wiping away much of the slush, "If that's what your grievances toward me center around, I find it rather pitiful in the petty sense. You really think that as someone who can live forever, or who thinks they can live forever, that you can be reduced to such simplistic reasoning?" Johnson snorted before shaking his head and glaring at the other party.
"If you say so," was all Johnson was really able to say at this point. At least he wasn't crying. But holy shit, was he... Pissed.
iâm sorry ;-; i love him but peace was never an option
With a deadpan expression, Augustin examined the other party for a good ten seconds. His above-average vision allowed him to quickly take in every little detail.
And then he burst out laughing.Â
Augustin never laughed.
He had to take a series of deep breaths to calm down. The moment he spoke, though, the energy instantly came flowing back through him. His chances of keeping a straight face had now reached zero.
âAre you actually serious? âThe God of Chaos?â What kind of bullshit is that?! You think youâre some kind of supernatural being who âcOnTRols tHE uNIvErseâ or some shit? This is too good, hold on.â
He reached into his pocket and slid some brass knuckles onto his left paw. He then held both of his fists up.
âLetâs do this. 1 on 1. Letâs go.â
His tone turned from serious to mocking yet again.
âBut wait, I assume youâll have to use your magic to make yourself taller than me before we start? You know, cause you have a burning desire to feed your ego every chance you get? Oh, this is gonna be great.â
"Cosmetic surgery is for fucking cowards," spat Brown with a scoff while staring up at the canine with crossed arms, "Not that I can fucking say much because I tend to adorn myself with makeup for the sake of parties, but-" She reached out a hand to grab his collar, then pull his lupine face closer to hers. But what exactly?
In a way, the middle-aged woman could forge a sense of solidarity- And no, it wasn't because the two were coincidentally associated with canines, though one was more literally so than the other. It was just that shared commitment to stoicism and a grounded personality that intrigued her to no end, though she'd likely be the last person on the earth to concede this point to him- In fact, the more she stared into the surgeon's eyes, the more tempted she was to take out her dagger and do an impromptu operation on him... Minus the anesthetic, of course. And with a lower success rate. On purpose.
Gee.
Her nose crinkling, Brown rolled her eyes before sighing, "Besides... I know that you know that you don't need makeup to be a false bitch. A false motherfucker." She still clutched him by the collar while giving him another shake, though she kept her muscles tense in case he tried to beat the shit out of her in return. (Not that she didn't deserve it after, well, treating him like nothing more than a stuffed animal, a ragdoll.) "Look at your face. And how it doesn't change unless you're trying to kick people's asses. I would normally be able to sympathize and laugh along with you, but..."
Brown trailed off so that she could carefully let one hand go from his collar, then let it go over to her pocket. Seriously? Already? Her eyes drooped while she tightened her grip with her other hand. Maybe she should just punch him. Giving him a taste of his own medicine seemed a bit too macabre- Or was it? The Wolf was a common harbinger of death, after all. She clicked her tongue against her palate before delivering another rough shake.
"... You know what? I could afford to give you a sense of fear. That group of yours may not be looking to get rid of you anymore, but me?" Brown grinned at him before digging her nails into his collar, a menacing glint emerging in her eyes while she stared at him and only saw... Well... Fellows she resented. Fellows she hated. She gnashed her teeth together before blowing a gust of air at him, if only so he could pick up on the scents of tobacco, blood, and the slightest hint of ethanol in her breath.
"I will always be ready to punch your face in, as quickly as possible." She raised her dagger with her free hand, having now taken the weapon out of her pocket- Hey! That's not a punch! "So, need anything to say before we start this off? You know how I'm always itching for a fight every so often with fuckers like you, darling..."
FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT. Brown isn't taking the challenge without throwing out some choice words in the process. :)c
âListen, kid,â sighed Brown to the demon with a wave of her hand, âYou give me nothing by calling me an asshole. I am one. Itâs not like youâre going to piss me off by stating whatâs probably the most obvious shit in the world.â Her eyes drooped slightly while gazing over in his direction. If it werenât for the content or context, it wouldâve been too easy to consider her as just an eccentric figure speaking to a friend - or perhaps an acquaintance. Or maybe she consumed too many toxic positivity posts and thought that she could just laugh off the haters by being coy.
Whichever one happened to benefit her the most at the moment, really.
Clicking her tongue against her palate, the middle-aged woman shrugged and grunted, âIâve been called worse than a hag. At least I donât need magic to be fearsome-â She trailed off to further fan her hand coolly. âI can just be a bitch with my words and - well - my weapon.â At least she was being honest this time? She did have that dagger with her, after all.
It was just a real shame that the virago wasnât being⌠Completely honest. Brown was also surprisingly stronger than she looked - in spite of her age! She didnât excavate all those fossils and carry them herself to be regarded as a measly shrinking violet!
Well⌠Not anymore, at least.
Brown snorted and rolled her eyes at his attempt to stand out, sniffing, âOh, please⌠You think you can intimidate me with that poor display? I wish I was joking when I say that men like you-â She got cut off when he spat on her shoe. And challenged her to a fight. Oh, it was on now!
Punching a fist into the palm of her hand, the aristocrat grinned and stepped up to the unicorn, perhaps with too much eagerness in her movements.
âYou bluff way too fucking much for one of those obnoxious technicolor animals I see on the television every so often,â she spat through clenched teeth, before drawing out her dagger - though honestly, her slightly beefy arms couldâve been enough. The iron blade wouldâve just been overkill. âIn fact, I can show you what shit I got. Right here, right fucking now.â She craned her neck towards his face, perhaps to exaggerate the subtle wrinkles that were indeed present on her face from age and tobacco usage. Sure, they would've been mostly concealed with makeup, but... She didn't care. It only cemented her belief that he was nothing but a shallow asshole who deserved to get ripped one way or another.
âAnd after that, youâll be begging for mercy like the little piss bitch you are," Brown continued to threaten while fiddling with the dagger in her hand, "You want to back out now and be a shitty coward, or go through and get your ass whipped like you fucking deserve?â
"God, you seem like an asshole, eh? I would think someone your age would have some form of respect," Cliff sneered and adjusted his leather jacket, "You smell like cigarettes too, not like I would expect any better from a filthy hag like you."
The unicorn stood up straight, was he trying to appear more menacing-like? Yes. It wasn't easy for a short man like him self to look intimidating, but he was pissed. He hates this woman's attitude. It annoys the hell out of him. Cliff shifted his feet, "If it wasn't for you being a wrinkly old bastard, I'd knock your fuckin' dentures out on the spot.. Actually, why don't I? I'd be doing this world a favour." He hocked a loogie on Brown's shoe and continued, "Seriously. I bet someone like you would have some experience in fighting, eh? Show me what you got. Show me what a useless fishwife like yourself has got." He put himself in position and raised his arms.
It was unlikely Cliff would win, he's more bark than he is bite. But Brown was annoying the fuck out of him, so who knows?
"Another crinkled up codger, huh? You seem to pride yourself on being old fashioned, not like an old ninny like you would know anything about my mother." Cliff quickly wiped his nose with his arm and babbled on, "..And as decent as a lady you say? Fuck! I suggest shutting your filthy fly trap, sir!" He whipped his hand out and flipped him the bird.
vvv i like this little man though, hes creative
"I really don't think I've ever met anyone as ribald and indecorous as you." Okay, old man, whatever you say. Just lay off the fancy words.
Raphael, who more or less desired to get a rise out of the younger [albeit deader, and therefore probably older in some say] man, who he observed with a harsh eye. He had several things that he could nitpick -- the color of his hair, for instance, as though he was sure it had something to do with being a unicorn and what not, the look was multicolored and in such an unnatural way that the general considered it gaudy. His clothing was as degenerate, as Raphael sent a sneer down at the other's jockstrap. If any of his people in Laojin wore such a thing, he wouldn't be a happy camper.
"I believe a man should be as decent as a lady -- then again, you are a singer, and those sorts of entertainers can be... a little much, I'll say." he began to ramble, "I think I would be right to assume your family didn't have enough of a grip on you when you were young and still alive, and that is a shame. I can only guess why you did die so young, and thus were sent to... a hell."
A Hell. Raphael didn't really believe in Hell, but hey, that was a thing here, and it looked like he wasn't chatting up a regular fursuiter, although he would also call fursuiters disgusting. How open... How welcoming... How kind...
"Really, my condolences to your mother." He droned out. Leaning against the wall, he reached into the pocket of his trouser, taking out a... package of cigarettes. Lame. As he looked over the little box in his hands, and then around the room for a flame to light one of these bad boys on and then soothe his nerves, he added, "Maybe I can do that for her, the poor lady. I can make sure you can learn how to behave!"
Famed rockstar dukes it out with a sixty-year-old man. Read more about it!
AAAAAAAAAAAA quick follow-up.
Raphael, unfortunately, didn't know what two of those words meant. Being disrespectful towards women, though? ..Yeeeaaah, but he wasn't going to be held back from doing so, especially as he didn't really consider it disrespect, and instead...
"I'm not quite sure what you mean." the older man said, glancing over Meriden, "Is it disrespect to want the best for women? To make sure that they stay safe?" Of course, that was disregarding his pupil, well, existing, and his work put in to mold her into someone practical, unswayed by her "womanly emotions", so to speak, as she grew into a capable soldier. He liked that about her -- that she was so tractable. Alas, he doubted the younger man before him was the same in any capacity, and so scoffed and waved a hand dismissively.
"I'm not quite sure what 'homophobic' or 'incel' are supposed to mean, though I would assume they're something insulting." he droned out, "Do be careful about what words you use with me. I'm not quite well-read on your... diction, I suppose I should call it."
Unfortunately, a thousand years into the future, the term "incel" has died. How sad!
"I'll beat up for being homophobic, disrespectful towards women, and just being a total incel. disgusting"
âTo say that you, well, are cold is a bit of an understatement,â grunted Rochester while staring down the student, âYouâre nothing but some fake bitch who thinks that smiling is the only way to get through life, and to beguile others into somehow giving a shit about your existence. Youâd fit well as an aristocrat, with that stuck-up manner and manipulative streakâŚâ Not that the middle-aged scientist was above it either, but⌠Whatever. She knew that, at least. She was aware of it, and that was one step in the right direction; it elevated her a bit over him, at least in her eyes, and it showed.
Now, if only she actually did something with it and didnât just stand there being a prideful bitchâŚ
Rolling her eyes, she motioned with her hand and grunted, âTo be frank with you, itâs rather disgusting. I can commend rationality, but you do not even have that sort of reasoning under your belt. You just do it for the sake of power, because you like having the feeling of controlling others.â She took a step forward and cocked her head at him. âIsnât that right, kid? Instead of finding a remotely healthy outlet for your damn problems, you decide to drag everyone else down with you, because according to you, if you cannot be happy, then nobody else can. How cruel. How⌠Rich.â
She was definitely staring him down for the elegantly curled locks on his head, huh. They pissed her off to no end. For Rochester, they were the ultimate symbol of his supposed superiority, his objective arrogance. The older woman, despite actually being pacifistic for the most part, was tempted to let Spot set them on fire just to see how heâd react. But⌠Heaving out a sigh, Rochester waved a hand at her slug and took a step back. Not now⌠Later. Maybe. It all depended on him at this point, because he was the one who wanted the ball in his court.
He could have it! As a treat, of course. The young man just better be careful, as Rochester and her slug werenât exactly helpless by any means.
âFrankly, I prefer being the mastermind as well. So I can give you that as a concession, even if I fucking hate doing so,â grunted the scientist with a shrug, âBut unlike you, I have actions and associates to back up my bluffs. I know some strong folk, in fact⌠Strong, strong people. They could teach you a lesson in that regard, mm?â Like⌠Maybe her girlfriend? Rochester smirked slightly just thinking about it. Perhaps she should report to sweet Beatrice about this, see how it goes down. Or maybe not!
Instead, the middle-aged woman shook her head and drawled, âSo, keep talking. Keep doing whatever you are doing. I may not be the one pummeling you into a pulp, but I sure want to. Donât be surprised if someone does the dirty work later on, though. Repentance can come in many different forms, whether you like it or not, sir.â
I'll try my best to do a follow-up for NP!!