#fight cw

[selfshippingquotes]

S/I: Me and F/O like to play this game called "Seven Minutes in Hell" where we go inside a closet and beat the shit out of each other.

[gregorymancs]

send in " at least i've got you here to take care of me, right? " for my muse to tend to your muse's wounds after a fight/battle + @aliencurls​

               “I’M GONNA NEED you to stop talking until this split lip decides to calm down,” he rumbled lightly, effectively cutting Michael off by gently pressing a rag onto his mouth and bringing the mechanic’s own hand up to hold it in place while he took a look at the rest of the injuries speckling Michael’s body. 

The fight itself had happened and was over quickly; if Greg hadn’t been there, he’d have missed it. But a few snide remarks by Wyatt Long had gotten on both men’s already-fried nerves, and even though Michael had gotten his ass handed to him a bit soundly, Wyatt and his ilk had also left the yard with their tails between their legs, muttering about white trash and people of Greg’s heritage not being where they “belong.”

Now wasn’t the time to ruminate on small towns and small minds; Greg began cleaning off Michael’s split knuckles to take a look at the actual damage, putting bandages on where it was necessary to do so. “You really gave Long as well as you got,” he commented, not looking up from his own work. His height and size had kept Greg from getting too badly hurt — he thought he bruised his hand a bit from not being too practiced in fighting — and it felt incumbent upon him to fix up Michael as well as he could. 

“Does that happen often? You looked like you knew your way around someone else’s fists.” 

[bluteamblueprints]

❣

My muse has been in a fight (and not fared very well) - send ❣ for them to react to your muse offering to patch them up.  

Dell offered a small smile up at the medic, “thanks doc” he said, shifting slightly. The engineer winced slightly as his he moved his body to allow the medic a closer look at his injuries. 

“I got my ass handed to me pretty bad, huh.”

[glovesdropped]

Sabres @ Lightning | January 12th, 2017

[amalgamatedmuses]

{{ — Jonathan has a pretty gnarly scar on his hand, both palm and back, from where he stabbed a sword through it to disarm a pirate and win a fight to save his life, as well as Flicks. It was stupid, and he was on a bit on a grief fuelled self-destructive path when he did it, thinking his dad was dead, but it worked at least! It twinges sometimes, particularly for example when he signs too enthusiastically, but his hand is still functional as he managed to avoid anything too important. Luckily, its not his dominant hand, so he can still wield a sword pretty darn well. }}

[dirthara-an]

@eritvita 👺

There’s the pheromone smell of feathers and what couldst Roland possibly imagine how space wouldst smell: raw ether, smattering of explosive dust and clean, pure air, the heavy undertones of metallic promise hidden in the sure, steel grip of long limbs and strong joints. He cowers behind his Lord as sure as the blessed Rabbit caught in a trap, and the purple shade of his own face sneers, and laughs meanly; surprising even him that couldst a laugh sound so hard, and it repeats the god’s language in His own tongue.

‘Tis a Tongue Roland can recognize vaguely, thus of the irregular vowel puckers and the wisp of soft letters only remembered from the hardest lessons of his Father’s evenings: “Oh, lethargic Man swathed in robes too fine for His own brain, you have no Right to keep or to snatch what I have claimed before You. The boy is made for Me.” And swelling with gurgling, bubbling breath doth the Fade Tear boil, smelling of salt and snake poison, and an arm, a leg, a neck and then a torso in frightening mimicry of Roland Himself comes a’fore them all into mortal existence.

Art the clothes finer, yea, and the poise more graceful and more bestial, the demon mocks the God and his consorts by readjusting its fake, embroidered coat in aloof movements, and wipes off the invisible dust from its perfect, pauldron’d shoulders.

“The boy is m i n e.” And heat like a beast’s anger comes off its breath like airy insanity, even as its voice is handsome and even-toned. “And has been since Manhood, of which I had my soul to guide and to grace,” purrs it sweetly, and Roland hunches himself that much smaller inside the Safety behind his God, “— by my personal Blessing to Have and to Watch him wonderfully grow. You cannot wear that.” And it smiles sweetly, and such malice curls at the edges of its horrifying mouth, all cruelness in prideful triumph.

This thing is not Mortal. It has never been, and so as Roland clasps at the front of his tunic in white-knuckled fists dost this entire endurance threaten to hath him flee like a frightened bird, and to hide safely away to hyperventilate, somewhere along the dark, inside a cool, beautiful cave.

Dirthamen's face briefly expressed disapproval, but it was there and then gone again. The ancient prince easily mimicked the demon's mocking demeanor - ages of maneuvering the treacherous grounds of the royal court within the Old Realm layering over him like a well-worn coat. His stance shifted into a more relaxed posture. Hands clasped behind his back, he appeared just like a calm scholar readying himself for a peaceful, yet titilating debate between great minds. Only Roland from within the safety of his god's shadow could see those elegant fingers constantly moving, routinely weaving intricate spells and readying them to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

"I see", he said, his voice easily feigning sympathy, "I suppose, I owe you my thanks then. For teaching the boy so well and raising him, before he could stand on his own feet." If insincerity was a liquid, it surely would be dripping in thick globs from Dirthamen's lips by now. The old god - usually so keen to keep his thoughts and emotions close to his chest - didn't even make an effort to hide how very little value he put in the demon's claims. "However, I'm afraid that is about as much, as you can expect to receive. It is a truth universally known to ever teacher that there will come a day, where you are to bid your disciples goodbye, when the lessons, you can teach are exhausted and it is time for the student to walk out and gain practical experience in the world beyond your reach."

And then he smiled. It wasn't the soft, genuine uptick of just the corner of his lips, that Roland sometimes tickled out of the old god with his endearing antics. It was a broad, prideful snarl, full of gleaming teeth and sharp, unforgiving eyes.

"Whether the boy belongs to you or not, is not a question of who came first, but rather of how much use does he have left for you. You sounded so foolishly self-assured, when you dared to call a mountain lethargic my friend", if there was ever a word, that felt like the very embodiment of disdain, it surely must have been the way Dirthamen spoke the word 'friend' in that moment, "but for someone, who appears to be so certain of his claim, you sure insist on repeating it an awful lot. Almost, as if you are.... afraid."

As if that was the cue he had been waiting for, Harellin suddenly bellowed a bone-chilling war cry and lunged - long-sword ready to strike - for the demon. A thick, almost palpable wave of deeply unsettling energy emerged from his core - his Dread purposefully pushed to its extreme. The strong, possessive aura of Dirthamen shielded Roland from the raven-lord's most terrifying aspect, but even here, safely tucked behind the elvhen prince, he could still feel a deep sense of unease, as if the air was rich with the fragrance of a threat.

In time with her brother Harellan charged as well, but just as she came within the demon's reach, she suddenly kicked up her feet and vanished in a cloud of kicked up dirt and smoke, Only to appear right by Roland's side, thrusting one of her short swords into his hands. It was a blade clearly meant for battle, not ceremony, elegant in it's utilitarian beauty: A sturdy heft, topped by a guard that curved protectively around the fist and a sharp, slightly curved blade, meant for slashing rather than piercing. The gleaming metal was so cold, that the air around it formed whispy white clouds.

"It will serve you well, if you know how to weild it", she said, "when you cut, it can send ice into the veins of your enemies and buy you precious time to escape from within their reach. Now you must decide, where you fight. If you feel, like you can stand your ground, stay with the master and join his battle. If that is not your way, take the blade back to the Varterral and wait for our return." Her tone was void of any haughtiness and her eyes did not indicate, if she valued one option higher than the other. This was not the proud brawling raven-lady, that mocked Roland for his perceived uselessness. This was a seasoned general, who knew when a battle promised to be more gruesome than expected. "This is not the place for self-destructive pride", she said, a grim smirk coiling her pretty lips as she realised the unintentioned joke, she just made, "Our master's goal is to keep you close and well. So choose whichever place you'd best be to help him achieve that, without getting in the way."

[kaishighat]

Safety|| Selfie

You know it’s bad when, temperatures so cold they burn, doesn’t even hurt. Thoughts tuned into the sound of his own breathing, inhaling in and exhaling out, his eyes scanned around the group of men. Yelling.. Cheering. His eyes fell on a tall male that seemed way to satisfied with his current state. Blonde hair, mystery eyes, and a smirk that Kai would have loved to wipe off that face.

Off this earth. 

Kai hated Shura. 

Hated him on sight. 

The way he walked around treating people like toys, acting like he was so high above Kai and his fellow lackeys that he could talk down to them. And he hated that Alexie let him. He hated that a man in charge of most divisions of the US Russian Mob kissed ass to a kid that was no older than Kai himself. Much like people back home, he was the type of dude that would’ve called Kai and his family ‘swamp people’ or made fun of his thick accent. He’d admit that, while a complete asshole, Shura was a smart kid. A quick witted and cunning kid... A good looking kid. And if Kai was any different he would’ve hate fucked him to the moon and back, but this wasn’t reality. But no amount of charm or good looks or cheap thrills would change the amount of pure hate Kai felt for the kid.

Finally, at the sight of Alexie giving a nod, he got up from the battered man beneath him and walked away, grabbing his pack of smokes off the stool and heading outside, having one lit before he even hit the door. He thought the basement was cold, but the outside was a different type of cold. Not even the ice running through his veins was enough to block this out, but he didn’t want to go back in there. It was the first time all day he felt something and he needed that. Kai gazed up at the stars, slowly inhaling the cigarette and exhaling it out, focusing on the sound his breaths made to try and keep him in the present. 

The shitty thing was the week didn’t start off like this. No, it actually started off very light hearted. When he met up with the big boss and his boys to see what the trip was all about, he was pleasantly surprised to hear he was just supposed to be playing babysitter. Pasha’s daughter, and Shura’s sister, was turning sixteen this week and she had a thing for Kai. And Kai liked to protest she just had a thing for boys but according to Alexie, they were given specific instructions to bring ‘the cute one with the moles and the accent’. And Kai wasn’t one to turn down a party and possible promotion, so he went with it, running the girl and her friends around, letting them hit on him and flirting back to avoid offending. They all smoked a lot of weed and drank, and were kids. They were happy, and it was nice being around that for one fucking moment. Everything was fine until the party. And then Shura walked through the door and it all went to hell.

All the men got dressed up in their suits, Kai wearing the one Dylan bought for him back in New York for his art show, Alexie wearing his special lilac tie that his wife had bought for him for special occasions. It sometimes amazed him that the man was married, and happily at that. He even had a couple kids, a son that had just turned eight and a daughter that was around Marley’s age. He was a good man that did bad things with good intentions, and Kai didn’t know how to feel about that, which gave him conflicting thoughts on himself. 

That dumb motherfucker walked through the door, killing his vibe instantly as he gave hugs and greetings to all the men. The only comment made as Shura greeted the men was “Ahh, Kai, you don’t look like a wet rat! Keep it up!” Followed by a stupid wink and an eye roll from Kai. They all made their way down. Food was served and there was dancing, Kai ending up having to show a few moves to appease everyone who was curious to see what he could actually do. At least, that’s where Shura’s mind went. The first hint that something was going wrong was that Alexie and Shura wandered off to speak and that was never good. While Pasha was the big man in charge, Shura was the right hand. He had a say in who got into where and if he felt they had something to prove. He was blood thirsty and got a boner off violence and Kai couldn’t stand it. But he let it be, continuing to woo the daughter as they slow danced, letting her go as her friends came up to go off and be teen girls. 

He went to the back to get a drink, watching the scene unfold, taking a memory of it so he could paint it or draw it later. Pasha spoke with him a little before his wife pulled him away to dance as well. They were so in love.. So happy. It was weird to think they were fine in a country and a world where so many bad things were constantly happening, and they themselves had to do bad things just to stay where they were.The tap on his shoulder pulled him out, and he found himself following one of his own outside and down to what he assumed used to be a bomb shelter. Whatever it was, it was fuckin cold when he got down there. And sure enough, Alexie and Shura were down there. That same, shit eating grin Kai couldn’t stand playing on the younger males face, and Alexie’s, cold as the stone they were standing on. Men started filing in, only getting his nerves worked up more for what god awful shit was awaiting them, but he kept his face as calm as he always had it, quirking an eyebrow and looking over to his boss for an answer, only receiving a reassuring smile. He took it and waited for the men to speak. 

“Gentleman,” Shura started. “We are fortunate enough to have a few new men join our ranks over the last year or so. And it is time we have made them official members. However,” He paused, stopping the pacing movement he was doing and looking at all the men. “The weak must be weeded out.” Kai’s heart stuttered, his mind going to the worst possible places. “We are no killers, we don’t like putting those who want nothing more to serve in harms way, but how do we know who is physically and mentally strong enough to serve?” Shura eyed all the men, that grin returning to his face. “We fight!” He laughed, cheering and laughing followed by those who weren’t the newbies. Alexie even had a little chuckle, and almost put Kai at ease but he knew damn well he was one of the new recruits and he wasn’t getting out of this. “It is the Russian way! We fight, we drink, and we continue on. So, all the new prospects, please, remove your shoes and clothing you don’t want to get torn or ruined, and get ready.” Shura approached Kai, his body close enough he could feel the other males breath on his face. He could’ve knocked the kid out right there. He felt the anger building up. Shura knew that most of these people weren’t made to fight, he just wanted them to suffer. And even the ones that could physically handle it would be much to scared to fight one of their own. 

Everyone that was told to fight was doing their best to get amped up, having hushed conversations about ‘whatever happens, we’re cool right?’, and ‘we’ll be fine, they just want a show, it’ll be fine’. Kai stripped down, barely even looking up as his boss came over. “Looks like it’s a good thing you’ve been going to the gym with my trainer, huh?” He joked, giving Kai’s arm a squeeze. “I guess... Kinda feeling set up at this point.” He joked back, giving the man a warm smile. He knew that Alexie meant no harm, and that, for the most part, his position in his charter was secure. The older male just chuckled and nodded, putting his hands into his coat. “I brought it up to him that, maybe I’d like to promote you to something... More respectable. You’ve been doing well with both handling incoming supply and our intelligence. You’ve got a lot of potential Kai...” He stopped a moment, taking his hand out and cupping the back of Kai’s neck. “Just get through this and we’ll talk about which way you wanna go, yeah?” The mans accent thickened as he lowered his voice, the younger male almost in shock at what he was hearing, not having to be on the streets? Not having to worry about hiding shit at his place and the cops keeping a profile on him? He searched for words, questions, but wasn’t given any time to respond when Shura called for the first round to start. So he just nodded, moving away and cracking his neck when Alexie let go.

And they all went round for round. 

And that’s how Kai ended up on top of a boy, no older than eighteen, beating his face into something almost unrecognizable. His hands were battered and his own face and body pretty bruised. He could’ve sworn the ice from the brick he was leaning against was burning his skin, but the only thing that tore his attention from the stars was the sound of Alexie’s voice. “You alright, kid?” The boy simply nodded, taking another drag. “This what you brought me out here for then? To watch me about murder some poor kid?” His tone bit a little more than he wanted, but the older man wasn’t arguing. “I just need to know you can take orders, Kai. And you passed the test. You’re as tough as they come, even for a skinny little thing like yourself. And what’s more, you did as you were told without arguing. That’s a first for you!” He let out a laugh, and as much as he fought it, Kai laughed too. As fucked up as it was, it felt good to let out that pent up steam. He’d been building it and building it and no amount of lifting, running, or drawing and painting could get it out of him. That anger was a type that he wasn’t sure he’d ever grow out of. And that’s why Alexie liked him. Hell, that’s probably why Shura liked him. Kai was only angry when it counted. The moment Shura emerged, his demeanor instantly changed, having half a mind to keep his winning streak going but Alexie getting in the way before he could do that. “Easy boy, easy. No need to bite me. Just, didn’t think you had it in you, Kai. Honest. But I guess I should start learning to Trust Alexie’s judgement.” The two men shared a laugh, Kai staying quiet, going back to his smoke, flicking off the end when he was done. The kid mumbled a thank you to Alexie, receiving a nod in response, only eyeing Shura and shaking his head. He wandered off, getting his clothes and heading back to the house for a shower. The only thing he heard was Alexie telling him goodnight and they’d speak in the morning, and Shura saying something but he blocked him out. 

He stood under the water for what felt like eternity, climbing out when he finally felt it burning his skin. He sat on the bed, finding an ice pack and some pain killers with a note from Shura ‘Sleep well killer xoxo- Shura’. God he hated him. He hated him so much but he took the pain pills anyway and got dressed, pressing the cold pack against his face. He fell back into the bed, letting his sore muscles relax, and for the first time in the last few days checking his phone. The first voicemail from Marley and Anja, asking about plans for the following week and the next from Noelle. His heart sank at both of them, but the feeling something was wrong instantly following hearing Noelle’s voice. At the moment he was too tired to call, and they had an early flight to catch. He drifted off to sleep, thoughts of a conversation he had with the girl flowing back through his head and into his dreams.

“Your dad know this isn’t the life you want? I’m sure he’d let you branch out... This isn’t a good way to be..A safe way to be at that.”

“No... And he won’t. Shura’s intelligent, yes, but he’s also impulsive. He needs me to keep him in check.” She paused, turning her head to stare into Kai’s eyes. “If it’s not safe... Why do you do it?” 

Kai paused, laughing a little. “It’s all I know, babe.” She laughed with him turning her head to stare up at the ceiling once more. They sat in the quiet for a moment, before she spoke softly. “Same as me.”