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writers-potion · 4 days

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Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

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prettyboykatsuki · 5 months

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prompt: gale trying really hard not to look as you unashamedly undress in the open in order to strap into some totally cool and immediately necessary armor (there's no time to go back to camp or find a suitably sized tree you need to switch clothes immediately it's a matter of life or death)

✮ tags ; pre-relationship, reader is a fighter and ex-soldier, reader has a tattoo of a snake, gn!reader, gale is Unwell, 18+

There's no time.

Gale knows there's no time. You'd already had the whole strategy planned out. There's a five minute time frame before the guards outside the tower will turn far enough to see Astarion - who you've sent in ahead of you both.

He'll shoot off the first arrow, Shadowheart who went with him will cast a spell. After that, it's up to you and Gale to rush in. Gale will cast haste, let you hit a few times in a row. The only problem is, your ambush is unplanned. The timeline of your mission had bumped up an egregious degree.

And due to unforseen circumstances, there wasn't enough time to return to camp to change. You had five minutes to change and no where to do it, and you're about to be in the heat of battle.

Gale is well-aware that his reaction to your need to change is a little bit inappropriate. You hadn't even announced it as Astarion and Shadowheart left the premises. Gale only turned to look at you, to say something about the battle to come.

By that time, though - you're already stark naked. You undress fast, tossing your camp clothes somewhere onto the floor beneath you. Gale feels his eyes widen, freezing before realizing he absolutely should not be looking.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize," He turns to face away from you, his voice so honestly betraying him.

"It's fine," You reply back, your voice is smooth and calm and so collected Gale wonders if you really don't care. But he remembers that you used to be a soldier, before all of this. You probably did this a lot. "I hope you're not too uncomfortable though."

Well, he is - but probably not in the way you're assume. You're too busy getting yourself geared up to notice the way he turns back to look. His curiosity gets the better of him.

His eyes widen when he gets the real, proper glance. He's trying his best not to stare, but with you just in your underwear - he gets the clearest shot of your back. Your camp clothes cover the large tattoo on your spine. Your only visible one is the one on your throat, the sword from your army days.

This one is more menacing, a snake coiled almost up to your neck. He almost gaps before realize he shouldn't be looking in the first place, shouldn't be contemplating the sheer strength in your muscles as you hoist a pair of greaves over your legs and put on your boots and other armor.

He watches in mild awe, at the shape of your silhouette. The curve of your waist, the structure of your arms and hips and body. You are impossibly attractive. The image imprints on his mind. He can't control it, but he forces himself to turn away when he realizes how long he'd been looking.

Any longer and he would've had a different problem to take care of and now is really not the time for that.

You manage to get ready with time to spare, the last of your armor clanking into place. You stretch your arms out wide, doing a quick check on your movement before coming up behind Gale and patting his back in a friendly way.

"Alright. Let's march on," You say cleanly. Gale gives you a tight lipped smile as you both begin to jog towards the battlefield. The way there is mostly quiet.

"Gale," You prompt, not turning to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Next time you want to have a look at me, just ask." You say, with the same steadiness in your voice as always. Gale nearly trips when it registers what you've said. "You've got handsome enough mug for me to bed you if you wish."

He clears his throat, hoping his voice doesn't break when he replies. Gods, what's happening?

"Oh, uhm. Right. Yes, I'll keep that in mind."

#return to sender #strei this prompt made me shake like a wild dog #gale x reader #bg3 x reader #gale wanting to smash hot and strong fighter my beloved #im(prompt)u game #writing tag

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whumperofworlds · 27 days

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Whumpee has been possessed/brainwashed, and fights Caretaker viciously.

Caretaker, who is Whumpee's closest friend/lover/family member/etc, refuses to throw a punch or use their weapon to fight Whumpee, as Whumpee proceeds to beat them to a pulp.

Even though they're being beaten close to death, Caretaker still refuses to attack; they didn't want to hurt Whumpee even though they're brainwashed/possessed.

#thinking of that street fighter 2 movie scene where a brainwashed ken fights ryu #damn that was whumpy #whump #whump prompt #possession #brainwashed #beaten up #death mention

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cryptid-crow13 · 6 months

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underground fighter

I have this idea and I can't get it out of my head so I am throwing it to the dpxdc tumblr wild.

Danny took a deep breath as he wrapped his left hand. He wrinkled his nose at the blood and grime he smelled over the cigarette smoke and alcohol. He ignored how his hand shook as he secured the end around his wrist. He heard the noise outside the room die down a bit and hopped up from the bench.

Danny ran himself through a few warmups before he heard the noise outside pick back up with an announcement.

"Tonight we have everyone's favorite, Wraith!"

People yelled out their bets and cheered when Danny stepped out into the cage. He blew out a slow breath and watched as the people in the seats above shivered. He kept a carefully blank expression even under the gaiter mask.

When Wraith stepped into his end of the cage he rolled his shoulders back and stared down his first opponent for the night.

#feel free to continue and/or use this btw!#i'll keep this idea on the back burner for a future fic #but its just this little worm that won't stop bothering me while i'm trying to write my current fic #do i know why danny is in an underground fighting ring? no #do i think there's so many possibilities for why and how that its driving me crazy? yes #underground meta fighting ring where danny sticks to his cryokinesis tho? yes please #dpxdc #dpxdc prompt #underground fighter danny #rogue danny #ig #maybe #cryptid crow caws

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youare-number6 · 10 months

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Spaceships and Space Fighters 4 - Pt 1

#spaceship #spaceships #scifiart #sci fi art #spaceart #midjourney #image prompt #ai artwork #generative art #futurism #futuristic #YAN61 #aiartcommunity #ai art community #space art #science fiction art #retrofuturism #retro futurism #space fighter

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the-broken-pen · 6 months

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The villain clicked their tongue as she crumpled to the floor, a keening wail slipping from her lips.

“What did you do,” she spat. “What did you do.”

The villain regarded her as if they were collector examining a butterfly.

“I took your powers. Children shouldn’t play with such things.”

“You have no right—“

The villain raised a calm hand and her jaw clicked shut.

“I have every right,” they said smoothly. “You are a child being sent to defeat the monster in the dark by an agency that is entirely willing to leave you to die. I’d say that gives me every right to take measures to stop you. Be lucky I didn’t kill you instead.”

She spat as their feet.

“I will kill you.”

They tilted their head. “No. You won’t.”

She pushed herself to her knees, then stood.

“It is my duty. One I will not fail.”

“And how do you intend to fulfill that duty? Powerless and weak as you are?” The villain said, half mocking, half curious, like watching a child as they failed to make a sandwich.

She glared at him, and slipped her hand into her pocket, fingers curling around her blade.

“I was raised a fighter first” she said slowly. “I became a hero second. Losing my powers hurts,” the villain raised a brow. “But not as much as you’re about to.”

And then she stabbed him.

#writing #writing community #creative writing #snippet #angst #heroes and villains #fic writing #ficlet #writing prompt #whump #stolen powers #villain #fighter #hero #stabbing

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phoenix-arts7 · 8 months

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Since I will be unable to participate in Inktober this year, I have compiled some favorites from previous years. These can be found on my Instagram account if you want to see them all.

Personal 2020 favorite

Anyone remember Fossil Fighters?

I fucking hate this one. xD

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sbadaboo · 5 months

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⋆Bada Lee x Reader ?? ⋆

Hi guys do you like this aesthetic ?? ^^

Would you be down for a bodyguard!Bada x reader ?

It would be my first story on tumblr but before posting I would like to know people opinions on these types of stories…

If this is your style, follow to be notified when I post !

#bada lee #bada x reader #bada imagine #moodboard #fanfic #fic prompt #fic writing #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #swf2 x reader #x reader #writing prompt

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madmanwonder · 3 months

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Prompt

Crossover Crack Pairing

Ryu and Mai Shiranui

Rymai/MaiRyu/Dancing Dragon/Strongest and Beautiest/Shiranui Fist

Ryu:

Mai Shiranui:

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theprofessionalpromptmaker · 2 months

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Person A: I killed them. Now what? How do you intend to go on when the very thing you were trying to protect is gone? Person B: I think you’re a fool for mistaking my love for them as my motivation to fight. I was born fighting and I will die fighting. But they were my sole reason for not destroying everyone and everything in my sight and burning this entire world to ash eons ago. So for your sake, I hope you’re lying.

#mod poss #dialogue prompts #dialogue prompt #writerblr #original writing #writing inspiration #story prompt #creative writing #writing ideas #fantasy au #war au #warrior au #fighter au #killer au

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hold-him-down · 2 months

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A prompt: Ivan has Leo strung up and is doing something unpleasant to him

tw: forced to fight, electrocution, restraints, nonsexual nudity, noncon touch

notes: somewhere early in ivan days

Strung Up

“It’s different from the collar,” Ivan says, somewhere just outside of Leo’s line of sight. He tries to crane his neck, to twist his body, to get eyes on what's to come. He can't pinpoint what exactly it will be, but he knows it won't be good. He's been in this room for what could be hours, what feels like hours, his wrists bound tightly above his head, his body hanging.

From above the door, the red light promises as much.

He isn't made to wait long. Without warning, Ivan materializes in front of him, his fingers digging into Leo's chin to lift his head.

“You know it fucking frustrates me that you make me take these measures, Leo,” he says, peering up at him through narrowed eyes.

Leo can feel himself shaking, with every movement sending shooting pain through his shoulders. He doesn’t look away, though.

He can’t, however, form the words he knows he needs to form. The, 'I’m sorry, sir,' that he knows Ivan craves. His throat is raw, and even if he wanted to say it, he doesn't think any sound would come. He can't apologize, and he can't promise it won't happen again, because he's not sorry, and it will, he thinks. It will happen again, and again, and again. Because something in him is broken, and he's almost positive he won't make his way out of this contract, and at night, when that becomes its most obvious, his resolve gets stronger and stronger.

He's drawn back to the moment by an unexpected blow and his vision swims, and almost mercifully his head drops, and the world goes dark.

✥ ✥ ✥

“Come back to me,” Ivan is saying, almost lovingly. And then, as Leo forces his eyes open, Ivan says, “There you are.”

Leo's stomach turns over, and the inescapable pain momentarily overcomes him. Through dried, cracked lips, Leo whispers a nearly-silent, “Please,” and Ivan steps back.

It’s in that moment that Leo sees the long, almost definitely electrified baton, come toward his stomach, and a moment later, the world is engulfed in a fiery pain that consumes every part of him.

He can’t quite tell when Ivan stops, but he knows that it happens, because eventually he becomes aware of parts of himself. The screams that pull from deep within his chest, sending fresh flames through his already raw throat. Each thrash against the restraints that lights his shoulders ablaze. The sweat that drips from his hair, down his face and neck, onto somewhere below him.

“Easy, easy,” Ivan is saying, his voice close. “Take a breath, Leo,” he whispers. Leo sucks in as much air as he can, and Ivan laughs softly, his lips touching Leo’s forehead. “My boy,” he says, pulling back enough to see his whole face. "You are doing fine."

He’s distantly aware that it’s no longer just Ivan and him in the room, but further back, a man stands next to Ivan’s doctor.

Ivan is speaking to the man, who walks over to Leo with a hunger in his eyes.

He’s young, maybe no older than Leo himself. He rolls the sleeves up on his crisp white shirt and puts his hand out. Leo flinches as the man makes contact, first cupping the back of his neck, then running the same hand down his chest.

He holds Leo’s gaze for a moment then smiles, taking a step back.

“You think more?” Ivan asks, and the man nods.

Ivan looks at Leo then, and says, “You lost him a shit ton of money tonight.” Ivan sucks in a sharp breath, and continues, “Granted, it was fucking stupid to bet on you, wasn’t it? You are not ready for all that. Yet.”

Leo swallows, steeling himself against the pain that he knows is coming.

“I have been brainstorming with some of my guests, what to do with you.” He clicks his tongue. “A consolation prize would be interesting, I think. We have to keep the clientele happy, don’t we?” This part, he says softly; a secret between the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” Leo finally chokes out, his voice teetering on the edge of desperation.

“You say that a lot,” Ivan whispers back, with bite behind the words. He retreats and hands the tool to the other man, winking at Leo as he does. “Enjoy your time with him,” Ivan says, louder now, more a message to Leo than to anyone else. “I don’t prefer to share my boys in this way, but sometimes, it is justified.” Ivan gives Leo a once-over and Leo wonders, briefly, what he sees. How bruised he’s become, just in the two weeks he’s spent here. How thin he is, how desperate for any kind of reprieve. If he can see how he shakes, if he knows how bad it hurts. He blinks slowly, on the edge of losing consciousness and simply drifting away. He knows Ivan won’t allow it. If he knows nothing else, of that much he’s sure. Breaths come harder and slower, and he hears, distantly, “If you feel that he is dying, send Mikhail a text message. He is prepared to deal with it.”

Through heavy, salt-burned eyes, Leo watches Ivan retreat, and the doctor follows. Without warning, the man turns to him, and as instantly as a thought of mercy crosses his mind, it vanishes, and the world is once more engulfed in flames.

✥ ✥ ✥

When Leo awakens, he’s being carried through the maze-like halls of the basement. He tries to lift his head, to give some indication that he’s conscious, but no part of his body will cooperate. He doesn’t have the strength to hope that the man carrying him is not the same man who did this to him; he doesn’t have the strength to hope for anything.

“It’s alright,” he hears, but the sounds are warbled, the voice unfamiliar. “Almost there.”

He’s carried into one of the bathrooms and placed carefully into the shower stall. Through blurred vision, he can see that the light is yellow, and he lets himself drift away.

He's distantly aware of time passing, of being moved, of being spoken not to, but about. When he opens his eyes again, it's another worker, familiar only to him in passing, who leans over him, washing away the evidence of what was done. Leo begins the agonizing process of trying to speak, but before he can, the man says, “Don’t.” He moves the rag down Leo’s side, his touch light but not light enough to avoid reigniting the dulling pain. Leo flinches.

“Sorry,” the man says, his voice devoid of any real emotion. “Petrov won’t tolerate camaraderie.” The worker repositions Leo, rinsing away more blood and exposing more of the damage to his body. “I’d be lying if I said I knew what exactly he wanted me to do to you here.” Leo isn’t sure if the man is talking to him or not, so he stays silent. “Mikhail, the doctor, will see you once you’re cleaned up,” he continues. “You’re Leo, right?”

Leo urges himself to focus on the man, nodding.

“I’m Dante,” he says. There's silence as the worker, Dante, continues dutifully washing Leo's wrecked body. Several minutes pass in this way, before Dante says, “I’ve been here for almost two years." Dante keeps his eyes off of Leo's face, but keeps speaking. "I saw your fight tonight, if that’s what you want to call it.” He pushes Leo forward, letting the water flow down his back. Leo cries out softly, the pain in his ribs electric, and squeezes his hands into fists.

There's another silence as Leo catches his breath, longer this time.

“My best guess is Petrov wants me to talk sense into you,” Dante eventually continues, running the rag down Leo’s spine. Leo hisses in a breath, automatically pulling away. Dante pauses in his movements, briefly this time, before taking some unspoken signal that Leo is ready to continue. He moves to sit back on his heels, taking Leo’s hands in his. He turns them over, running soap over each finger, under each nail, and rinsing away all remaining evidence.

“You can’t survive this way,” he finally says, his tone colder now. “Being under a contract like this… it could kill you. He’s killed more than a few workers since I’ve been here, but he always finds a way to get new contracts. You don’t have to fight every night, but when you do… you have to at least try... or, if not try, pretend. Even if you have no intention of winning. Even if you have full intention of sticking it to him. If you want to survive, you have to figure out what you're okay with.”

Leo nods. Dante drops his hands, standing abruptly.

“He’ll make you fight again tomorrow,” Dante says. “The doctor will tell him not to, but he won’t care. He’ll do it over and over until he thinks you’ve figured things out.”

“What if I don’t–” Leo chokes out, swallowing back a new wave of agony. “If I don’t figure things out?” He closes his eyes in a desperate bid to compartmentalize the pain.

“If you don’t tomorrow, you will the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that, maybe. There’s no long term opt-out. There’s only participate, or go through this, night after night, until you do.”

Dante opens the door, then turns to look back at Leo. “We’re not friends now, we’re not coworkers, and we’re not allies. I am doing what I can to survive, and if you get in the way of that, if it comes down to my safety versus yours, I’ll choose mine.” His face, and his voice, soften almost imperceptibly, as he says, “Just pretend. That's all he wants right now."

He leaves then, letting the door close behind him.

#the fighter #peachy and i sent each other this prompt after we watched that movie #forced to fight #nonsexual nudity #noncon touch #torture

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writers-potion · 3 days

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Writing Male Fighters

Body Language

Before they start fighting, they will communicate a lot through body language, either conscious or subconscious.

Standing with legs apart, elbows out to the side, shoulders aquared, chin thrust forward and up, hcest inflated and turned full front to his opponent, piercing stare. These cures are intended to make him bigger.

He may hook his hands into his belt, framing his genitals.

Subtly stretching his neck or spine.

Stepping close up to the other, invading the other person's personal space. The one who steps back will "lose" - when this happens, we know that fists will be flying soon.

Skills

When writing a scene from a male point of view, don't make the mistake of writing a detail about basic fighting skills (like landing a fist in the opponent's jaw). For a man (on average) who probably learnt to box in his playground days - it would be better to let the moves come naturally.

For fancier skills (like weapons handling or martial arts), you may explain in fuller detail so that your readers can follow what's happening.

Weapons

Men often have a special relationship with their weapon: very personal, almost intimate. The weapon may serve as a symbol of his power, masculinity and reflect his self-image, even.

The hero may be seen cleaning, repairing, oiling his weapon, bragging about it or comparing it with others'.

Men Against Women

Most men are reluctant to hurt a woman. This instinct is often hard-wired into them, even in martial arts school that pride themselves on gender equality.

While there is no biological reason for sparing a a female fighter - only the sense of good old chivalry - you can show your villain hesitate for a second or hit less hard when a see a woman coming for him.

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