fandomtownies | Atlas Gym, Fandom Fight Club [Sunday Evening]

There was a poster tacked up on the door to the main gym, with the following text written in alternating handwriting, as if the marker had been shared between two people:

Rules of Fandom Fight Club
1. What happens here, stays here. We can't keep the squirrels out, but if somebody tells you something on the mat, you don't repeat it off the mat.
2. No weapons or powers unless everyone knows in advance and is fighting within their weight class.
3. No shoes.
4. If someone says "stop" or goes limp, the fight is over.
5. Two people to a fight.
6. Fights go on as long as they have to.
7. No tourists. If you need to take a week to see what this is like, cool, but no coming back just to watch. You wanna watch, get a TV; here, everybody fights.
8. No fighting if you're sick or injured. You wanna screw up your body, you do it on your own time.
9. The organizers reserve the right to remove you from the club at any time for violation of these rules.

Underneath the sign was a table with a sign-in sheet, where people could print their name and if they'd fought before ~~which is handwavey since y'all already did it~~, which would be collected once the meeting started.

Inside, Tyler was pacing, barefoot and holding himself so erect he looked about three inches taller than he normally did. He clapped his hands in a way designed to silence anyone still talking.

"Welcome to Fight Club," he began. "In this room, you are not a teacher or a student or the guy who works behind the bar at Caritas. You are not what you own or what you wear. You are not a special, unique snowflake. You are a body. You hit, you bleed, you feel pain, you cause pain, you come back for more. You get better. You might even find redemption."

He glanced at the group as if daring anyone to argue with him on these points.

"The purpose of this group is catharsis and self-improvement through unarmed combat," Ghanima said briskly. For once, she was not wearing her usual ornate gowns, but a simple woven tunic and slacks and was barefoot like Tyler. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with therapeutic violence - no matter what the armchair shrink of the week says - and this place is here to provide you with that option."

"That said, should you wish to have a friendly spar with someone using practice weapons, you should feel free so long as both parties agree. Please refrain from using actual weapons until you've worked with someone more than once."

"And while we're being the buzzkill jerks with all the rules," Tyler said, "here's a quick gym tour. Padding's over here -- beginners, wear gloves, everyone else, it's at your discretion -- practice weapons are there, and these soft blue things? These are mats. We fight on the mats."

"Speak for yourself," Ghanima murmured, bemused. "I may occasionally be evil, but I am not a jerk or a buzzkill."

"Now, my favorite part. We're going to randomly pick some fights." It was possible Ghanima looked a bit too gleeful about this. "You and you. You two. You two too. You and you, and hrm, you, and ... you." There was practically a halo over her head as she pointed at Tyler. "There. Get to know your new friends, then get to know the mat. Anyone I didn't just pair up, find your own partner."

[Up early for massive SP! ~~Wait for the~~Massive OCD is massive and up.]

ETA:You people are breaking my browser! Mingle | RNG Fights | Open Sparring | Ghanima and Tyler | OOC | Next Week's RNG

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Tahiri laughed briefly. "Not exactly. You're born being sensitive to the Force or not. You have to be Force-sensitive to be a Jedi, but not all Force-sensitives choose to be Jedi." Or have the option, like her parents.

"So then you did in a way chose to be a Jedi," he concluded.

The look Tahiri gave him clearly said you're a pain, but she nodded. "I did," she said, not really talking about Tionne coming to find her on Tatooine six years ago.

Ichigo was well used to that look, he was well used to ignore it too. "So are there a lot of Jedis?"

"More than there were, not as many as they used to be," Tahiri said cryptically, because she could be a pain too.

He raised an eyebrow, but was undeterred by the response. "How come?"

"How come you ask so many qu --" Tahiri bit off the end of the sentence and shook her head ruefully. "It's like talking to a younger me."

"Yes," Ichigo said dryly, leaning forward to study her. "Because you look ancient."

"I could be older than I look," Tahiri pointed out, narrowing her eyes at him.

Still being a brat.

"Yeah? Like what? Five?" He could be a brat too.

"You little kreetle. Five? Five?" Tahiri exclaimed mock-indignantly.

"What the hell is a kreetle?" Ichigo asked, because that was the important bit.

"It's an insect from Tatooine that lives on garbage," Tahiri said, somehow completely unsurprised that he'd go for that question. "I hear some species think they make good snacks."

"Ew. Gross," Ichigo made a face. "Now I am going to have to kick your ass."

"Like I said, if you can," Tahiri said dryly. "There are grosser things I could have called you."

Ichigo puffed up his chest unconsciously. Not that it was impressive. "Yeah, I don't doubt it, but you don't have to do that."

"I wasn't planning to," Tahiri said easily, with a brief amused smirk at the chest-puffing.

"Good cause..." He had no idea what he was going to say and then he shrugged his shoulders. "Something."

Tahiri snickered. "Right."

"What? That was a good threat!" he grinned at her.

"Yeah, didn't you notice how I looked terrified?" Tahiri shot back, one side of her mouth twitching.

"Well, you could have trembled a bit more," he admitted.

"Dream on," Tahiri said. "I really don't think so."

"It was just a suggestion," he said lightly. "Seriously, though, if you want to spar, I'm up for it. With or without that um... force thing. Whatever it is." He really should first find out what it is before taking up a challenge, but then he wouldn't be Ichigo.

"Maybe," Tahiri hedged. "I mean, sure, sometime."

Re: Mingle!

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