#fightknife

[bardbattled-mov]

“ i’m not leaving you here . ”        ♡        @fightknife​.

it’s hard to focus on his words with the ringing in her ears. elsie manages to stumble to her feet, gathering them beneath her on the asphalt. is that her blood? probably. she can feel it, warm  &  tacky, above her brow, too. diego’s hands reach to steady her, and it’s only barely enough.   ❝ but you... you need to... ❞   something. he needs to do something but she can’t remember what it is. it’s important, she’s pretty sure about that -- his family didn’t seem to think so, but she remembers that she thinks so.   ❝ i’m fine. ❞

[tempportal]

“We’re not kids anymore. There’s no such thing as good guys and bad guys.”

@fightknife​​​ ; liked 

[bardbattled-mov]

dodging her guards is growing too easy -- one would think they’d make it a lot more difficult, with her safety being so important, and her unsupervised outings being so often these days. her clothes might mark her as highborn, but she’s been careful not to let them mark her as royal, and the hood of her cloak is pulled up over her fair hair to conceal her features. that doesn’t help, in the end. what’s meant to be a shortcut towards the marketplace -- a cobblestone alley between some houses -- gets her cornered, by at least three thieves. her gaze dances nervously between them, checks over her shoulder to find the fourth.   ❝ i am not looking for trouble, friends. ❞   but she’s going to get trouble, clearly. even if she could reach the little dagger she keeps at her ankle, there’s too many of them, and she’s not exactly a trained fighter.    /    @fightknife.

[spynorth]

His weapon has long since run out of ammunition, nothing but an empty click to answer the hail of bullets that slam into the wall they’re crouched behind, sending a spray of plaster and wood to rain upon their heads. Frustration rises like the swelling tide in the agent’s hollow chest, a brief flicker of flame licking the edge of his heart as it threatens to build into a destructive inferno. “Hold them off while I look for some other way out of this.”

 Another spray of fire hits the wall, one coming far too close to being a perfect headshot for his liking and Lucas glances briefly at Diego, coming up short at what appears to be the other man’s answer to the fight before them ... the worst answer the mi5 agent has ever seen. Fingers close around the other man’s wrist, yanking him backwards with a cold fury until they’re only a mere breadth apart, voice a rumble of thunder between them.  “Did you bring bloody knives to a gunfight?!” If the prospect of a human shield to get out alive wasn’t so tempting, he’d kill Diego himself right then and there.

@fightknife​ s.c

[rumorsilenced]

@fightknife​​ sent:  ‘   i’ll    take    him    out    myself.   ’  

          SHE’D GONE BACK TO PATRICK’S.  She didn’t know what she was expecting.  Claire wasn’t there, of course she wasn’t.  A new child that wasn’t her own occupied that room now,  but maybe some small part of her thought she could go back and explain — go back and at least get a moment to properly mourn everything she’d lost.  No.  Of course not.  When did they ever get time for that?  She stumbled out the door as she was promptly pushed out by her once husband.   

          ❝ JESUS, I’M GOING! ❞ she shot back at him.  Then, she brushed herself off and nearly jumped as she spotted Diego.  Had he followed her here?  She wouldn’t be surprised.  ❝ No, it’s not worth it.  It won’t change anything.  She’s gone. ❞ 

[equationsoff]

@fightknife​ liked for a starter

it’s the first birthday he’s experienced with the family since coming back. while their powers are currently mia it’s not like the thought didn’t matter. the knife he’s selected for his brother has batman motives engraved into the blade and the weight is perfect for throwing. to be fair to five, he’s only known his family in the academy and during world ending scenarios. so he can only go off weapons for them. “ if you stab yourself, i’m not driving you to the hospital. ”

[witchdoctrines]

@fightknife​          /          starter  for  the  deep  shit  !

          there is no true quiet in the hotel obsidian. not in hotel rooms, and not in this lonely corner of the bar where the sound of the radio penetrates the persistent beating in her chest, demanding to be let in when all she wants is peace. it’s the end of the world, again. or at least, it will be. maybe she should be getting absolutely hammered right now, but instead, she’s quiet. contemplative. tending to a whiskey the way a connoisseur might, but without tasting a single drop. it’s all sand. all water. all fear, and exhaustion, and the pounding in her head screaming for peace. peace. peace ! but there is none to be had. she wonders if hails felt this way the night the world ended, or if the curtains were drawn tight and it was too late to feel a single thing. too late to wonder where her mom was. she shakes the thoughts off, takes another sip. picks at the thread that dangles off the edge of her sling.

          when diego sits down she glances up briefly, she doesn’t really know what to say about the things unspoken. about the things still staining her skin like spilled watercolor paints. the things they don’t say about what was seen, and what is known. she finishes her whiskey.     ❛  this round is on me if you’re interested. consider it my thanks.  ❜     it’s not enough thanks, there will never be enough thanks, but she has to try, while there’s still time.

[skyaches-aa]

@fightknife​

“ I have a drawer now ? ”

Another late night , another quiet routine. Though no longer in the same office , their jobs ( if Diego’s could really be called that ) ran similar hours. When they were finally able to return home , it was to Percival’s apartment. They ate in comfortable small talk , both tired and weary. They washed up and got ready for bed to do the same things all over again tomorrow. But there was one difference.

When Diego started folding his clothes , Percy opened one of his dresser drawers and pointed. It was emptied so he had a place to put his things  instead of on a chair or on the floor. He hadn’t meant anything by it but deep down he knew the sentiment was MORE than sentiment and so when he asked what should have been a simple question with a simple answer , Percy found himself suddenly very unable to meet Diego’s eyes.

❝ It’s practical , ❞ he says instantly. Walls fortified like his rarely came down easily , even now , even at this stage. Even when it’s not the couch Diego sleeps in anymore. ❝ You don’t have to use it , if you don’t want to , ❞ he adds. Percy keeps his eyes down , focusing on his pajamas. It will be easier that way if he takes him up on this offer.