last name unknown

All my wlw tv show ships

(For the few anons who asked 😘 )

Rachel Berry & Quinn Fabray “Faberry” (Glee / non canon)

Brittany S. Pierce & Santana Lopez “Brittana” (Glee / canon / from beginning till the end of the show)

Waverly Earp & Nicole Haught “Wayhaught” (Wynonna Earp / canon / still ongoing)

Cosima Niehaus & Delphine Cormier “Cophine” (Orphan Black / canon / still ongoing)

Clarke Griffin & Commander Lexa “Clexa” (The 100 / canon / started season 2, ended season 3)

Bea Smith & Allie Novak “Ballie” (Wentworth / canon / started and ended season 4)

Callie Torres & Arizona Robbins “Calzona” (Grey’s Anatomy / canon / started season 5, ended season 12)

Arizona Robbins & Eliza Minnick “Elizona”  (Grey’s Anatomy / canon / started season 13, still ongoing)

Laura Hollis & Carmilla Karnstein “Hollstein” (Carmilla / canon / from beginning till the end of show)

Ashley Davies & Spencer Carlin “Spashley” (South Of Nowhere / canon / from beginning till end of show)

Piper Chapman & Alex Vause “Vauseman” (Orange is the New Black / canon / still ongoing)

Poussey Washington & Brook Soso “Pousoso” (Orange is the New Black / canon / started season 3, ended season 4)

Nomi Marks & Amanita Caplan “Nomanita” (Sense8 / canon / still ongoing)

Sophie Webster & Sian Powers “Siophie” (Coronation Street / canon / started season 50, ended season 52)

Willow Rosenberg & Tara Maclay “Tillow” (Buffy The Vampire Slayer / canon / started season 4, ended season 6)

Buffy Summers & Faith Lehane “Fuffy” (Buffy The Vampire Slayer / non canon)

Emily Fitch & Naomi Campbell “Naomily” (Skins UK / canon / season 3&4 + Skins Fire )

Bo Dennis & Lauren Lewis “Doccubus” (Lost Girl / canon / from beginning till end of show) 

Rose Solano & Luisa Alver “Roisa” (Jane The Virgin / canon / still ongoing)

Alex Danvers & Maggie Sawyer “Sanvers” (Supergirl / canon / started season 2, still ongoing)

Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor “Supercorp” (Supergirl / non canon)

Gail Peck & Holly Stewart “Golly” (Rookie Blue / canon / started season 4, ended season 5)

Myka Bering & Helena “H.G” Wells “Bering and Wells” (Warehouse 13 / non canon)

Shane McCutcheon & Carmen De La Pica Morales “Sharmen” (The L Word / canon / started season 2, ended season 3)

Bette Porter & Tina Kennard “Tibette”  (The L Word / canon / from beginning till end of show)

Alice Pieszecki & Dana Fairbanks “Dalice” (The L Word / canon / started season 2, ended season 3)

Alice Pieszecki & Tasha Williams “Talice” (The L Word / canon / started season 4 till end of show)

Helena Peabody & Dylan Moreland “Dylena” (The L Word / canon / started season 3, ended season 3 - back together season 6 till end of show)

Emma Swan & Regina Mills “Swanqueen” (Once Upon A Time / non canon)

Jane Rizzoli & Maura isles “Rizzles” (Rizzoli & Isles / non canon)

Amy Raudenfeld & Karma Ashcroft “Karmy” (Faking It / non canon)

Amy Raudenfeld & Reagan (last name unknown) “Reamy” (Faking It / canon / started season 2, ended season 2)

Samantha Groves “Root” & Sameen Shaw “Shoot” (Person of Interest / canon / started season 1, ended season 5)

Tara Chambler & Denise Cloyd “Denara” (The Walking Dead / canon / started season 6, ended season 6)

Jane Tanchingco & Althea Guevarra “Jathea” (The Rich Man’s Daughter / canon/ from beginning till end of show)

Silvia Castro Leon & Pepa Miranda Ramos “Pepsi” (Los Hombres De Paco / canon / started season 5, ended season 8)

Emma Trakarsky & Izzy Silva  (You, Me, Her / canon / still ongoing)

Brenna Carver & Greer Danville “Grenna” (Chasing Life / canon / started season 1, ended season 2)

Paige Michalchuk & Alex Nunez “Palex” (Degrassi / canon / started season 5, ended season 7)

Fiona Coyne & Imogen Moreno “Fimogen” (Degrassi / canon / started season 11, ended season 12)

Tori Vega & Jade West “Jori” (Victorious / non canon)

Kim Daniels & Maria “Sugar” Sweet  (Sugar Rush / non canon)

Kim Daniels & Saint (last name unknown) (Sugar Rush / canon / started season 2 till end of show)

Emily Fields & Maya St Germain “Emaya” (Pretty Little Liars / canon / started season 1, ended season 2)

Emily Fields & Paige McCullers “Paily” (Pretty Little Liars / canon / started season 1, ended season 5)

Jenny Hartmann & Emma Muller “Jemma” (Hand aufs Herz / canon / started season 2 till end of show)

Jasmin Flemming & Anni Brehme “Jasanni” (Gute Zeiten, Schlechte Zeiten / canon / can’t figure out the seasons)

Riley Matthews & Maya Hart “Rilaya” (Girl Meets World / non canon)

Sansa Stark & Margaery Tyrell “Sansaery” (Game of Thrones / non-canon)

Joining The Team Pt 1 (Avengers X Reader)

Characters: Avengers X Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Blood, Violence, torture

ANGST

Request: Can you please write an Avengers x reader fic, really angsty? Thank you x


Originally posted by wakandaentertainment

Fury had put you on the team very recently. But they had yet to actually meet you. They had never heard your voice, seen your face, or being within the same building of them. But they heard rumours.

They heard the story. The story that stuck. That story being how you came to be here. You were a product of HYDRA, almost a stray child. You were given training, but apparently it was worse than what they gave Nat. You felt no sympathy, nor empathy, no feelings. No soul. However your job was special. Your missions were to get people to confess or to spill secrets. You would kidnap them, lock them away, and then do unspeakable things to them. Days later HYDRA had information that none other than a certain missing person knew, who was found dead just days later as a mutilated corpse. They say Fury had actually found you when he found your torture room and in the midst of getting a man to confess. He had been lucky enough to shoot you to be subdued and that’s how you got here. They said that that’s why you were yet to be introduced- you were healing and fighting back.

Keep reading

The girl with a star in her eye

Suspicion, on a show like Doctor Who, is gained easily. Strange behaviour, more often than not, might just be the sign of a threat or the beginning of an invasion.  From her first appearance on, Heather comes across as a dubious figure. In a crowded lecture hall, she stares straight ahead, no sign that she is even registering the content. Encountering Bill at the bar, no words are spoken, just an enigmatic smile. And through it all, a the bright star in her iris, a curious feature on a show in which being human is optional.

And yet, these moments are undeniably framed as romantic. “The day you fall in love”, the Doctor exclaims as the camera rests on Heather’s face. And there, eyes are meeting, two people drawn to each other across a crowded room. When Bill meets Heather once again, our trust in this set up is tested once again, with an odd request that lures Bill to what is clearly a source of danger. A puddle without rain, a reflection that isn’t quite right, and a girl who first beckons Bill to look and then flees the scene.

Heather fits in an odd spot between different expectations. It looks like she is leading our heroine into peril, but she makes a poor evil seductress, too rough around the edges. Moreover, every detail make her less suitable for a sweet romance, drawn out over small encounters. Although even her last name remains unknown, we are given emotional glimpses. Alienation and discontent. She hates her surroundings and rejects who she is. A defect.

Still, the very second Heather catches the glimpse of understanding, she begins to open up. One moment, she is rude and dismissive, but an “Are you freaking out about something?” is enough to start confiding in Bill, to show her what she is preoccupied with, to admit that she wants to leave wherever she goes. To grant Bill a “maybe” when she asks to come along. The small, tentative beginnings of a romance, with all its unfulfilled promises.

It takes Heather’s transformation into the Pilot for the puzzle pieces of her isolation to truly fall into place. She has found a single droplet left behind by a spaceship and it consumes her until she too is shaped from flowing tears. Stripped down to to her wishes and thoughts, she isn’t pushing the outside world away. She is reaching out, through all of time and space, yearning for that connection not quite made.

Where Bill complains that her face betrays her emotions, Heather’s shows her detachment and hostility but hides her unhappiness and longing. Fragments of her depression. But there is hope too. In recognising someone who tries to understand. In the stars in her eye, of the universe she now holds within. And in finding that someone who is looking for you, maybe, some day.

Merc's Real Names:

TF2 Team:

Scout - Jeremy (Last Name Unknown)

Soldier - Jane Doe (Term for an anonymous female. Whether this is truly his real name, what he knows himself as now or merely an alias is unknown)

Pyro - (Name Unknown)

Demoman - Tavish Finnegan DeGroot

Heavy - Mikhail (Nickname Misha. Last Name Unknown)

Engineer - Dell Conagher

Medic - Ludwig (Due to him being referred as Mr.Ludwig, it’s not completely confirmed whether this is his first name or his last name. Most probably the first name despite it’s use)

Sniper - Mun-Dee (Birth Forename) Mundy (Adopted Surname)

Spy - (Unknown, Possibly shares last name with Scout)

~~~

TFC Team:

Scout - Greg (Presumably short for Gregory. Last Name Unknown. Either Scout or Demo’s name was a error, or they both share the same name as both are referred to this in Comics 4 and 6)

Soldier - Ross (Last Name Unknown)

Pyro - Beatrice (Last Name Unknown, Nicknamed Bea)

Demoman - Greg (Presumably short for Gregory. Last Name Unknown) 

Heavy - ((Name Unknown)

Engineer - Fred (Last Name Unknown, Presumed Conagher)

Medic - (Name Unknown)

Sniper - Virgil (Last Name Unknown, Nicknamed Virg)

Spy - (Name Unknown)

Sense8 Names

Kala - Means black in Hindi. Maybe that’s why she sets LITERALLY EVERYTHING on fire

Wolfgang - Means wolf path. Hence Wolfgang being kind of a lone wolf for a full season and a half

Will(iam) - comes from German. Means desire and helmet of protection. Will Gorski is a cop. Will has the desire to protect

Nomi - from Scandinavian and Hebrew (idk). Means pleasantness and Nomi is an angel (except when she’s tryna fuck people up on the computer

Riley - comes from an Irish last name that means unknown. Ironic because she’s a famous DJ, but then again a lot of DJs are unknown

Lito - somehow came from Hebrew? (Idk) Means God is with us. Even tho Lito is 100% drama queen God is protecting the cluster and I’ll take it because none of them are dead (yet)

Capheus - from Cepheus, which was a Greek name that no one knows the actual meaning of. Good name because Capheus hasn’t defined what he is at the end of the season

Sun - can mean Grandchild/decendant but also could mean falcon. I don’t know what to make of this… yet

T’is a Vengeance [Cap. I]

           The knife, gleaming so coldly under the light of the street, watching closely. The rain poured in thunderous claps, gnawing at the cement, scratching as his shoes. Calloused fingers twirled the weapon with ease, now his steps being echoed down the roofless corridor. Far South, his bloodied reign shone, and terror screamed. Blue eyes were similar, but held a certain darkness in them, shining no light. At the end stood a door, masked by the shadows—the smell of copper so strong, he wasn’t affected. Why would he be when he was the Master of the City? The door was driven open by a single twist of the knob and he stopped at the doorway, then saw the sight he was desperate to snap.


           The once strong sea-green snapping their view towards him, made so weak by the bloodshot that filled, caused by tears that still fell. Wrists bloodied from the chains, linking him from corner to corner, his legs bare and shirt ripped open, exposing the thousands of bruises littered over his torso. Brown hair melted in the reds, glued to his forehead, a nasty snarl came in despite the torment he was given in just the few hours of capture. The hate that the incarcerator caused had filled the room in seconds, the smell of copper rising but not enough to drive the captor to sanity. Ignoring the shouts to stay away—to not move any closer, he walked towards the male—inch by inch before rushing, arm extended to grab and pull at the only clothe that protected the captive, driving him up the wall and pinning him against it; the groan of pain was heard when he did so, forcing his knee onto a grotesque bruise near his groin formed not so long ago.


           “My, my,” his voice rung, tittering darkly as the glint in his eyes burnt, “you still have a lot of fight in you. And long had it been? A week? Maybe more?”


           The feral growl left his already broken lips, jaw clenched harder as the captive stared down at his captor; the sea-green eyes flashing wildly, “you broke my seven-years-old son.” Now, that was the resentment the captor wanted to see. “You tortured my two-years-old daughter. You left that image for Delirious to see! How can I not have the fight left in me, Tyler!?” The last note bounced off the prison-looking room, only the light that poured through the bars two metres higher than both male stood had been the source of their sight. “Every,” on this word, the captive growled again and attempted to get the knee off him, but only drove it onto his groin; he repressed the mo—groan that wanted to fall out of his teeth before continuing, “—thing that you do will be known, Tyler. I promise you that!”


           Tyler, chuckled so darkly, it brought the hair on the back of the captive’s neck to a stand, and that smile had grown into a sneer so insane, the blues in his eyes flashed the same bright blue that the captive had fallen in love with in another person. “that is what I want to happen, dear Ryan.” Pulling out the knife he held, he tore the chain that held Ryan’s dominant hand detained with one swoop and threw him across the floor, satisfied with the sound skin against cement made when he skidded to the wall to his left, and landed against the wall with a clamorous grunt.


           15 metres in length spread per wall, encaging both males in a darkness one loved and the other hated. The room was large enough to toss his prey around like the rag doll he was; tongue slipping out to lick at his bottom lip in a desire only the insane would show. The taste of blood rose as he smelt the iron escaping his prey’s lips, the bones nearly shattering at the force. “I want the world to know what I did to Jonathan’s prized possessions,” Tyler confessed, folding the sleeves to his elbows as he stalked closer, “and then taking the North and East with me!” When close enough, he took Ryan’s arm in his hold and threw him yet again, ignoring the plead to stop that fell, and ignoring the way in which his prey’s arms was nearly pulled out of the just-healed shoulder socket. “You know I would do fucking anything to bring my time back from the dead, Ryan. You know I would do anything for him. You know I would harm your kids for his sake.”


           The tears not stopping, Ryan did try to get himself up, but his dominant arm was no longer working. A dozen times, he counted. A dozen times, ever since he was taken from their home, had Ryan been thrown around like a plaything. Cuts and bruises wrangled his once empty, tanned skin. Being fucking married to a Mafia leader, Ryan knew he could never be subdued. But… but—using his left hand, he pushed himself, but was forced back onto the ground by a hand pushing his head down and flat onto the cement once again; the cuts already stinging like acid.


           He couldn’t remember the last time Tyler had gone this insane. This Boss was renowned by his avoidance of children, but not so much women nowadays. But children. The ugliest thing would have to be that Tyler used to be Jonathan’s brother-in-arms. They ruled nearly three quarters of the city, bringing their terror only onto those who they hated. Only to have that burn under hours. Ryan didn’t know the story, having to be absent on that night to take care of Sam, who was only four-years-old, and Jonathan never had shared that anecdote with precision, but Ryan did know that Tyler had gone against Jonathan’s command to stay. To not attack someone with force they did not have—they had been ambushed prior, and Tyler’s… significant other, had gone down, in a condition so critical, Ryan had to multi-task to take care of a grown man sprinting towards the Doors of Death, and his kid, who just wouldn’t stop being clingy.

           Tyler, or rather, Wildcat, was ambushed yet again during his own attack, forcing Jonathan and co. to attack and save him. Tyler knew it was his own mistake, and instead of saving himself, he tossed Jonathan out of frame. Something happened during Tyler’s capture, Ryan knew, and this was seen when Tyler was brought back and had attacked Evan, almost killing him in the process. Jonathan had no choice but to throw him out, knowing he couldn’t deal with people so broken that their sanity might as well have been cut off from the world. However… Ryan didn’t think it was due to the capturing that Tyler had changed, it could’ve been because of… of… him not being able to save Craig that one fucking day.


           Now, you see, Tyler was seeing someone. He went by the name of Craig—his last name was unknown, just to keep him safe—and he was just a civilian, just like how Ryan was for a moment. The two started dating, yes, and then (almost typically) it escalated. Being engaged, Ryan knew just how much over-protection Craig had to face. Now, it was the same for Ryan, Craig had a choice to either remain the civilian or join. He chose the latter, and the most utterly humorous code was given: MiniLadd, and mind you, he was short. But then again, he was taller than Ryan. When he moved in, Craig instantly took over the technology side of things, being the only thing he actually wanted to do. He rarely held a gun, knowing that Tyler was the type to follow him around with one.


           That was their downfall. Being Ryan, he didn’t hold a gun himself when they went out to the park three years ago. Taking Sam along, they were extra vulnerable, but how could they even suspect an attack at noon, when the sun is shining, and dozens of people are out on the streets? Ryan remembered the gun shot; loud and crisp, causing both to snap around and find the source. Keeping Sam behind him, Ryan kept his eyes wide open for anyone, but of course, the light was too much for his dark-preferred vision. Then the next thing they heard was the gun shot to his leg. Clean, through and through. Caused him to stagger, but caught himself, trying to not push his entire weight on his son, whom he kept close. Then another gun shot. Now this time, it was ugly. Time slowed, he noticed, and the lights in the eyes had flashed as the bullet made contact and ripped through the chest. He didn’t remember screaming, but he did remember catching him just before he could reach the ground. The groan that tore through was enough for Sam to grab his parent’s phone and call the one emergency number: Jonathan. The seven-years-old kept his focus on hurrying his other parent instead of watching Ryan collapsing onto the ground, keeping the almost-dying in his grasp.


           “Craig!” Ryan had cried out, keeping his hand pressed upon the gun shot wound. But it was… it was hard. Ryan recognised the sound of the gun, and he did want to do something… but… what had been shot at him was a bullet from a fucking .50 BMG. The shot went straight through, and Ryan couldn’t pinpoint just by how much the bullet must have grazed a lung—or the heart. “Come on, please!”


           “It hurts… like… a bitch.” Craig wheezed, trying to hold on, “G- God… if Tyler… fu- fucking sees me like this.” Attempting a laugh, he spluttered out crimson, chest jittering.


           “Craig! You have to not fucking move. Please. The bullet went through and through—Sam, pass me the phone. Quickly!” Receiving the phone from his son, he pressed it against his ear and said with a rush he just noticed, “I’m sorry, Jon, but I have to call Tyler—”


           “Are you hurt!?”


           “No, no. I’m fine—shot in the leg, but it’s not serious. What’s serious is Craig. I’m losing him the more I talk to you and the more you lounge around. He’s been shot by a BMG. Just get here under five minutes.” He ended the call promptly before dialling in Tyler’s number, hands shaking. The phone was answered under a ring and he didn’t even allow Tyler to say a ‘hello’, “Ty, Craig’s been shot. We were ambushed.”


           “What the fuck did you say!?” Tyler had shouted, “did you get shot, too?”


           “Leg’s down. Can’t move it—don’t tell Jon.” Ryan explained with little detail, “we were ambushed by a sniper. About ten storeys up. You gotta keep Craig awake—just until Jon gets here.”


           “Understood. Pass me over—I ain’t losing that fucker to a damned sniper.”


           Once hearing Tyler’s voice, Craig did manage to keep awake, and Ryan did try to at least close the two ends of the wound when they reached the apartment. But… before Tyler and Jonathan could have even make it back—


           The rushed footsteps from Jonathan had perked his ears from when he snapped his head up from having his nose buried into Craig’s neck, the tears growing abundant. His lover’s strong arms enveloped him so tightly, he couldn’t withhold them anymore. “I’m sorry, Ty—Jon.” Ryan said, eyes filled with tears, hands bloody and shaking as he refused to look at both of them in the eyes. “The… the bullet… it tore through. I- I couldn’t do anything h- here since there’s both an entrance wound and an exit wound. I… I told you I wasn’t enough. But you wouldn’t listen. Craig needed more than me—he… he’s gone. I am… I am so sorry.” Breaking into the sob he tried to hold, he remembers being enveloped in Jonathan’s hold, his own body shaking.


           Face froze, gun dropped to the floor, Tyler made a move towards the main living room where both Jonathan and Ryan refused to move anywhere else, the start of the skyline as the utmost ironic backdrop. His feet were dragged and blue met red as he stalked closer and closer; the smell of blood hitting home. Glass lens shattered, skin paled, and eyes were closed. Lungs drew no breath; his fingers were as cold as snow when Tyler took them in his own grasp. The tears no one had seen in so long as sprung to life, and the ugliest of screams erupted, causing Ryan to flinch and bury himself even further into Jonathan’s hold.


           He failed so many people that day, and with another breath draw his eyes—or rather, eye—darting to bring in the view of Tyler—he knew he couldn’t wipe the blood off his skin, no matter how hard he tried. He drew a ragged breath, similar to when Craig nearly lost his and tried again. “T- Ty,” he had wheezed under his breath, ears pricking as Tyler used the name he could never forget; his skin burnt with the remembrance of what happen just an hour ago—no, no, no. He couldn’t take it—not like that, “d- don’t even think about it.” Please, please, please!


“Hm,” Tyler hummed, smirked cocked as he stared into Ryan’s open eye, “don’t think about what? Tormenting you?” With that, Tyler collected a laugh so loud, it brought a bullet to Ryan’s chest as he knew what that one sound meant, “you think I’m done with you just by hurting Sam, or just by painting Hope with a colour we both love to see wrapping around the people we hate, suffocating them to death? You think I am done…” he stooped so low, his hot breath stabbing at the shell of Ryan’s ear, “after claiming you as mine… right in front of him?”


           His world flashed a white he never thought he would ever experience again.


~~~


           “Ma!”


           His heart wanted to break for the hundredth time when he remembered a pair of short arms wrapped around a leg, the warmth—he noticed—being of a little girl’s, “Sam,” he recalled, shouting out to the eldest, “please—get Hope back inside!” Ears already used to the noun his daughter started calling him by, Ryan took hold of the gun that Jonathan left under the table—damn it. It was a handgun! Typical of Jonathan to leave something only he was train enough to use. The windows smashed one by one Ryan keeping his back turned to the one girl and boy, who had dragged themselves into a room Ryan had demanding them to stay within. Both hands on the weapon, sea-green eyes watched as masked men stood, staring at him as he stared at them. Unmoving. “What the fuck is this!?” He screamed, realising the masks were not of Jonathan’s own gang, “I asked a fucking question!”


           “Please.” Said one, sliding past the men to stand in front, the smirk adorning, “no need to be so bossy with me, Ryan.”


           “You fucking pig!” Was the next statement, his back still facing the room, reminding himself to protect the two rather than himself. “You get out of here, and leave the kids the fuck alone at once before I blow a hole in that massive bolt of a brain!” Lifting the gun up, the nozzle was aimed straight at the middle Tyler’s forehead. “Or even worse,” another snarl, “Delirious coming up here and killing you himself.”


           The low chuckle didn’t faze Ryan, knowing the other would opt to make such a sound. He stood his ground, and watched the other scan him. “Look, Ryan.” He said, tilting his head to the side with an amused look on his face—one that Ryan wanted to rip off so very badly, “I don’t want to waste anymore precious time. I am here to get what I want. And I will get what I want, yes?” Ryan shook his head at that, eyes not being removed from the trespasser, “oh? Saying no to something I haven’t even provided details for? What rude. I didn’t know you treat your guests like that. But then again, you are married to Jonathan, I wouldn’t be surprised if you started smelling like him.” Ryan noted the pause without letting himself get thrown off by the fact that Tyler knew Jonathan’s name, and he despised hearing it roll off his tongue, “but I have to say that you not shooting me yet is rather sad, knowing that you would be mowed down to the floor by a dozen magazines.”


           And that was why Ryan didn’t shoot the fucker. If Ryan had collapsed in the spot he had planted himself in, the stray bullets would go flying into the room, hitting the kids and killing them. Only unlucky—or lucky—shots would keep them alive. “Tyler. Craig wouldn’t want you doing this.”


           “Bah!” Tyler huffed, waving said male away as if he was insignificant, “he’s dead—no one can stop me, Ryan. By the way, you do realise that it’s a dozen against one. Like I have said, I will take what I want.”


           “Not what you need?” Ryan asked, glare settling. He knew. He knew Tyler was there to grab him. Not Delirious. Not the kids. Just him. It was his fault that Craig was taken by Death—


           “Not exactly. If I hadn’t told Jonathan to go. You wouldn’t have felt how I felt—but I figured later on that… that I need so much more to endure Craig’s death. And that, I chose what Jonathan had always been fighting for: his family.”


           The shriek tore Ryan’s eardrum, but didn’t stop him from spinning around, finding that his seven-years-old child had been—


           “Tyler!” Ryan screamed, running at the said male. He jumped and pushed him over and onto his spine; the loud thud breaking the atmosphere. Drawing a fist back, he slammed it against Tyler’s jaw, smashing the bone. The dozen men around him were caught off guard when the corners of the room had gone to life; trained from young, those men had melted in with the darkness, enough to call them assassins, not those of a mafia group—they all leapt to grab their own to fight, but some had escaped. Alongside Ryan’s growling, came more and they chased after Tyler’s men as the Boss stayed pinned. “You really think I would sit here alone after what had happened to both Craig and myself!?” Drawing yet another punch, he aimed it for his nose to at least wake the fucker up, but had his fist caught. He drew a groan when his fist was being squeezed—he had injured that had a week ago, and it only barely healed that day.


           Heaving a dark chuckle, the weakness made clear, Tyler spun them around, himself up top and Ryan beneath him. His eyes were wild, screaming out the same blue as Jonathan’s but much brighter. “Utter his name again, and I will hurt you, Ryan.”


           “What? I have a right to say his name, Tyler!” Ryan screamed once again, trying to block out the sounds of his son’s own, “Craig was my friend. A best friend, at that! Everyone was at fault that day! Craig thought it was clear enough to not have me with a gun, Jonathan left me on my own, I thought it was fine to bring my son, and you weren’t around!” He wanted to get him off, but his wrist were wrung in a grasp so hard, he thought he could lose his hands in seconds. “Tyler! Get the fuck off!”


           The wild eyes didn’t dissipate and the assailant turned his head around to make himself face the open windows, ignoring Ryan’s shaking underneath his weight, “get the girl.”


           A gasp tore through, and the frantic shake of his head was what Tyler saw, “no, Tyler—anything but her.” Ryan pleaded, “don’t hurt Hope—it’s me you’re after—” he was cut off by a heaving of air when a man climbed back in. It wasn’t his own man, but Tyler’s. He pushed himself up from the edge and dragged another body with him. And that one… Ryan knew. Blond hair, lean frame… Ryan found his eyesight blurring.


           Bryce was a man whom Ryan picked up months after his loss of Craig. Bryce was only a bartender when they met—a bartender who was being abused. Even Bryce didn’t know why he was being abused, knowing he was the best at his job, but what he did know was that Ryan came into the picture at the right time, severing the arm off his abuser with a mere dagger. Nothing more. Ryan persuaded him to join, and he did, but he still kept his name. Bryce McQuaid was his name, and he was already known after his first night job. He killed five with no back up and only being a part of Jonathan’s team for days. What also made him famous was his fluidity. In his movements, he moved with such a grace and skill, even Luke had awed him for. Blond hair and a lean frame was enough to make their opponents think he wasn’t up for a fight—but he was always up for a fight. Very much like Evan, he favoured the frontal assault and his load-out usually consisted of close ranged weapons. He formed a bond with Ryan so quick, Bryce would lose his life for the male, even if his love wouldn’t be returned in a way Bryce wished it would, knowing that Ryan had two kids and a very scary Boss to take care of—he didn’t mind though.


           “Bryce!” Ryan shouted, trying to get the blond to wake up; trying to get him to save Hope before she could get hurt. “Please, get up! He’s going for Hope!” He shouted again, eyes moving from Bryce to the man edging closer to the room; the girl’s sobs wrecking Ryan’s chest, “stay away from her!” The sudden outburst threw Tyler off guard and was thrown off—Bryce (who just woken up from the punch to his face) grabbed Tyler and kept him on his feet and in his spot so Ryan could run after Tyler’s goon. His arms grabbed at the male and he spun him on his heels, throwing a fist at his neck—blood splattered and the familiar eyes widened. “S- Scott!?” But he didn’t let that fly over him. He tossed hi—Scott away and stood guard of the door where he still heard his daughter’s sobbing behind, “how dare you leave Jonathan for the likes of him!?” Again with the screaming.


           “As if you would notice!” Scott’s reply caused his stomach to churn, “you, out of all people, would know just how much Craig meant to me—to Tyler. You caused his death, Ryan. You caused a lot of deaths over the past few years, including Marcel’s!” Not even bothering to wait for Ryan’s response, he flung out the dagger Ryan recognised and drove it into his shoulder, digging into the muscle and bone and pinning him to the door he protected. “I wish that Tyler can kill off Jonathan, so that I can finally breathe. But before that, don’t you think it is wise to kill off you before ridding the City of its… ‘protector’?”


           “Scott.” Another wheeze, “please. I beg you. Don’t hurt her—”


           “Ma!”


           Again, Ryan lost his attention. Face adorned with cuts and bruises, Sam’s face took over his blurred sight and he failed to feel himself being peeled away from the door and tossed to the wall behind Scott—he was pinned there again by a pair of hands he wished could just not touch him. His son being withheld by a man he did not know; and Bryce had fallen to the floor, his own eyes wide as he watched. He had his head turned over his shoulder to see his daughter being grabbed by Scott, her arm turning a nasty red by the grip.


           “L- let go of mama!” He heard Hope scream, trying her best to tear herself away even if her beg was for Ryan.


           “Sorry, but no can do, sweetheart.” Tyler chuckled, licking at his canines. The look on Hope’s face was enough to make Ryan’s heart go into an oblivion he never knew had existed. He knew he had failed her when he saw that expression on her face. “He’s mine for today.” The pause was deadly enough to wreck a cry out of Hope and when Tyler spoke, she lost it, “have fun with her, Scott.”


           “No!” Ryan cried out, turning violent against Tyler’s hold, “please, don’t!”


           The flurry of movements was enough to let Ryan scream again. Sam was shoved into the store with a force Ryan thought would have hurt him more than he already was, and Hope was taken into his room; both doors were locked in seconds—


           Bryce attacked at the man who locked Sam in, causing Tyler to drag Ryan away to avoid the fight. “Ryan!” The blond shouted after hitting the other on the head with the butt of the gun he stole. He spun on his heels but had been caught by strong arms wrapped around his torso, restricting him from running after Ryan. “You!” He growled, noticing Tyler was so very close to the edge of the room where the windows were blown open. Beneath was a fall of 11-storeys— “let go of him, right now!” He yelled again, driving his knew weapon—a Swiss army knife—down the length of his captor’s torso (or whatever area he could reach) to get himself out of the hold he was locked within.


           Ryan felt his spine being pressed against Tyler, torso and abdomen had arms snaked around. He lost all movement in his dominant arm, the dagger was lost, but the gaping hole was still there. The image of red brought the panic to life again—the image of Craig’s lifeless body was on the couch when Ryan remembered having went to the bathroom to clean the bandages. The moment he knew Craig was gone… he knew he was done for.


           “Excuse me.” Tyler snorted, breaking Ryan away from his memory, “but didn’t I tell you that he’s mine for today?”


           With a single movement, Ryan felt his neck being overcome by a set of teeth that were too sharp for any human—only Tyler. Some sort of hot fluid—blood?—ran down the length of his neck. The lap of a tongue give him a shiver, but nothing more as the words just died at the back of his throat.


           “You bastard!” Bryce screamed, gun aimed for Tyler, “I said to fucking let him go!” He couldn’t shoot yet—the look registered on Ryan’s face was making him hesitate so much.


           “You know…” The whisper was deadly, “I cannot wait to hurt you.” With the single sentence, Tyler pulled away and when he did, the flash of blue arrived in his view; forcing his vision to move towards it, he cocked a nasty sneer towards the light and noticed it was camera—he bloody knew who the fuck was watching and said so loud and clear, it made Ryan tremble, “have a fucking pleasant night, Jonny.”


           With heels over the edge, Tyler tipped himself over the edge, and brought Ryan with him; the last look from the latter was—


           The interactive table was blown out by a silver dagger being driven from one corner to another. The jaggy breathing from Jonathan was plenty for Evan to know he was furious and would not hesitate to bring down trepidation onto the whole universe—and the former would allow him to do so. “That fucker!” He screamed, pulling the dagger out and spinning on his feet to toss the dagger straight into another computer screen. His breathing rumbled in his chest and he collapsed—the arms trying to keep him standing couldn’t hold him. “This is what I’m seeing now!? Two weeks after he was taken from me!?”


           “Jon, for the love your sanity.” His best friend beseeched, “don’t do this to yourself.”


           “How can I not!?” Jonathan acted as if it was too late to save him, “I lost Ryan two weeks ago! And only now am I watching the feed! Did you even see just how Tyler was behaving or even how he was treating him!? Huh, Luke!? Did you not see!?”


           The sobs were harsh cries of incoherence; knuckles turning a horrid white from gripping the edge of the table in a hold too tight. Luke and Evan could only work out the words of a plead to keep Ryan alive and safe. To bring him back. But none of them knew where he was. None of them knew how far Tyler had taken him. In the corner, Evan moved and muffled the sounds of light whimpers with his arms that snaked around the child’s body. “Pa.” Sam said through the hisses of sobs he had left escaping.


           “It’s going to be okay,” Evan promised with a twinge in his face as the boy in his grasp had shivered, “Ryan’s going to be okay.” He did try to keep his voice levelled, but with a seven-years-old kid relying on mere words… he knew it wasn’t enough, nonetheless, he did try. “We’ll save him—your father’s going to do everything he can to help him. We promise you. You know we do.”


           “Look, Jon. I know it’s been weeks ever since you last saw Ryan, but you have to wake the fuck up!” Okay, he did remember there was a child in the room, but heck, he was losing Jonathan. “Tyler didn’t take either Bryce, Hope or Sam. He took Ryan—I don’t know how to explain, but don’t you have at least a part of him here!? Come on, Jon, you’re a lot stronger than this!”


           Even if no words were shared, Evan stole eye contact with Luke, who just didn’t say anything to the promise Evan made, or even said anything to continue. On a side note, Jonathan made no move to counter his words, nor did he do anything for that matter. He was a mess, a darkness without any source of light to keep him sane. He knew how Tyler felt then. How much it hurt to have his love one stolen. Jonathan… somewhere within him, knew it was going to be difficult to get Ryan back, but he didn’t care if he lost a limb… lost an eye, or even lost his life to getting Ryan back. The kids were better off with him anyway, and Ryan had the capabilities of a Mafia Boss to take care of the city.


           “Don’t even dare think about that.”


           Shit, was Jonathan thinking aloud?


           “And don’t give me that look, either.” Was what Luke said from Jonathan’s silence, “look, Ryan would kill you himself if he was here. I would, too, but what’s keeping Tyler in his cage is you. You have the majority of the city under your control, you know this city like the back of your hand. The streets, the alleys—the map of the area are your veins and arteries, not Tyler’s.” A pause, and he threw another look towards Evan where his eyes rested upon the silver band securing his ring finger, “I don’t know how it feels to lose someone I love, so I cannot help you in that… but I can help you to get Ryan back. He’s a friend I’ve known for so long, and I cannot lose him to a bastard who has lost his mind.” Another pause as he brought Jonathan close to his chest, feeling the sobs wrecking, “you need to catch yourself before I lose you, Jon. Please… I don’t want to lose you either. Nor would Evan. You have kids to attend to.”


           Hope.


           Jonathan smacked the gasp right out of his lungs as he snapped out of Luke’s hold; his own tunnel vision working, he stormed out of the debriefing room and into the door at the right corner of the room; he opened the door and bolted down the corridor to yet another door—he slammed that door open and saw Bryce turning his head around. “She…” He faltered at the sight of wires and whatnot caged the two-years-old, and trapped her to the bed. Nearly-blonde, wavy hair stuck to her skin as her eyebrows stayed furrowed, her eyes closed as if she was having a nightmare. Not bothering to finish her sentence, he ran towards the bed at the end of the room, and stood by her side—the silence so strong, it stunk. “Is she… alright?”


           “She’s fine,” said Bryce, “nothing major—or too major. Her wrists still need to heal from her trying to escaping them, and her arms full of bruises, nothing more. Her legs are fine, just that her feet have cuts, probably caused by the splinters in the floorboards. Scott—” he knew Jonathan had gone through the feed taken form the camera, “—didn’t hurt her as much as I thought he would. I think Ryan had gotten through his head before disappearing. Look, Jon… Hope’s fine. But I think she may need to see Ryan as soon as you can get him back,” he continued, now looking towards Jonathan with a plead in his eyes, “she misses him so much—she called out to him a dozen times.”


           “I…” Jonathan tried to speak, but the tears wouldn’t allow him, “I… I want to save him so badly. I want to hold him again—but I don’t even know where he is. I can no longer predict where Tyler is going with him. He… the last time he saw Hope was when she was dragged into the room, and the last time he saw Sam was when the…those cuts and bruises took over his face—Ryan’s been having these nightmares of Tyler and Craig ever since that day—I feel like I’m losing him.” With that said, he mindlessly rubbed the ring on his finger, biting at his lip which caused Bryce to notice his actions, “I… I’m failing him as we speak—I can’t—”


           “You can, and you will.” Bryce said, standing up, “Hope’s blood pressure has dropped ever since you started talking, and Sam,” he pointed towards to door to show Jonathan, “has stopped crying. You might be failing Ryan, but for him, you are not. You’ve been protecting him for three years now. Sam finally reached seven years, and Hope’s now two. Three years is enough for Ryan. Three years is enough for you. You have eyes all over the city. And you may not have realised, but we have Brock down in the South. He’s still one of ours, Jon. He’s Evan’s good friend, remember?”


           Jonathan lifted his head and saw Evan by the door, dark brown eyes matching his gaze. Luke shuffled nervously by the Asian’s side and Sam did stop crying, but his eyes were still glazed. Their Boss sighed, wiping at his eyes before going to his knees, arms out to tell Sam to— “come here.”


           Sam didn’t hesitate and ran towards Jonathan, injured arms flinging around his father’s neck. But he didn’t cry. He didn’t whimper or even shake. He was firm, sniffing back a cry, but he was calm. You are so much like him. Jonathan thought to himself as he stood, carrying Sam and planting him by Hope’s side. Thought adopted, he was facing a mirror image of himself, black hair and blue eyes with a hint of green in those irises. He raked his fingers through his son’s hair and he held Sam’s hand, and then Hope’s hand; “I- I know it has been a fortnight ever since we lost Ma, but I- I promise to save him… in any way I can.”


           “Thank you… Papa.”


           Hope. Was the voice that rung in his ears as he watched the mesmerising sea-green eyes facing his own sea, and the smile that mirrored his lover’s own, that’s the name you wanted to name her, Ryan. You wanted me to protect both her and Sam with everything I have, and I will. Just promise me that you will protect yourself and find a way out.


           There was a silence Jonathan knew he was going to have in return, but he didn’t mind. He had his son and daughter by his side, and that was what was going to drive him into a world he could get lost within. But he also had Bryce, Evan and Luke in there to catch him if he were to fall.


           I promise, Jon. But don’t get killed.


           The voice made Jonathan pull away from the kids, eyes frantic to find the source of the voice—but he knew he was just imagining it. It sounded so much like Ryan, he thought he was going insane… and he really was. If he didn’t find Ryan soon, he would really lose all his humanity. But before Luke could realise something was wrong (and being the detailed bastard he was, Jonathan hated him for that), he coughed once to clear his throat and said, “I want security doubled at all fronts.”


           “Understood.” Was the word that came from somewhere on Jonathan’s right.


           Despite being shocked by an injured men saying what they said, he turned his attention towards another. “Evan, you’re going to take care of Sam and Hope because I trust you with them. That means the three of us,” at that moment, his eyes flitted over from Evan to Luke, then to Bryce, “are going to find Ryan, even if it is the last thing we do.” Jonathan paused to cup at Sam’s cheeks, eyes burying into his son’s own, “I want you to promise me that you will never leave Hope alone. And you will not follow us after Ma, do you understand?”


           There was a slight hesitation, but the seven-years-old knew it was safer to follow his father’s command, “y- yeah, Pa… I won’t leave Hope alone.”


           So much like me, huh. Jonathan withheld the chuckle despite the hate in his chest.


~~~


        “Scott.” Brock whispered by the said male’s side when he moved to the sink to wash the red off his hands, “come on.” His tone changed with a warmth that made Scott pause for a second, “you know you cannot let Tyler do that to Ryan. You know it’s so wrong, and you know Craig’s watching all of this.”


           With a snap, Scott turned round to face Brock, “he killed him, Brock!” Scott had fought back with a hiss, the anger washing over like a flood, “he let Craig get killed!”


           Brock felt the irritation in his blood rise along with the feeling of… of whatever emotion it was, fighting to scratch at Scott’s face. “But you know it wasn’t his fault to begin with!”


           The voice bounced off walls and into the shadows. The room was the infirmary. Lined with bandages, alcohol and gauzes were a familiar sight Brock was accustomed to when he was back in the north of the city. Being a medic as well, Brock had joined Tyler in that rank, and had to tend to Ryan for the nth time again for the third week. No matter how hard he tried, Ryan’s arms were still blotched with bruises and wounds, and his legs were at their worst. His face was left alone—thank goodness—but his eyes held nothing but tears. He knew Ryan wasn’t even paying attention anymore, and Scott noticed that, too.


           “Excuse me, Brock.” A small, dark chuckle threw Brock into a standstill, “if it weren’t for Ryan’s idea to go out and into open space, they wouldn’t get shot at!”


           “That is the point!” Brock was so thankful for the infirmary being sound-proof, “they were shot at. Not Craig alone, but Ryan had lost his leg that day! And besides, they were shot with a BMG, if I may remind you for the gazillionth from what I was told by Jonathan, himself. It’s a sniper over a handgun, if Ryan had taken a weapon along.” Brock said as if trying to say that Scott was being really narrow minded to not have realised that, “do you really think, even if Luke’s amazing gun skills, could he take out a sniper that stood storeys above the both them? And may I say that Ryan had no clue as to where the guy was going to shoot at?”


           Scott wanted to say more, but Brock being Brock, didn’t allow him to say anything.


           “You know that this is the worst form of torment a body can withstand. You saw the looks on their faces when they lost Ryan to a monster like Tyler. His lower half in nothing but swollen and a bloodied mess, and I don’t even think I can clean him without him feeling tortured by Tyler himself. You have to stop Tyler before he lose him all together. Please, Scott.” Brock tried again, his hand grasping Ryan’s own, but with a pressure so light, Brock even believed it might break his bones again. “You can’t have Ryan go through it like this—he took care of Marcel until the end, did he not? Because I know he took care of Brian, too.” A pause, “he’s still alive, you know? I mean, both Marcel and Brian. They’re just still in the coma Ryan had placed them under. He didn’t want Marcel to wake up with a nightmare in front of his eyes. But I did hear that he’s planning to wake him up sooner than expected because he knows you miss him.”


           “Brian?”


           “Yeah, remember? Terroriser?” And yes, Brock didn’t want to started another war with Scott by saying if that was all he heard, “he was a complete nut case, but he gets his job done. I almost lost him in a bullet storm when we were on a job—it was my fault because I wanted to get it over with, but it was also his fault for underestimating the boss we had to get rid of.” Brock explained, but didn’t shift his frown to a smile, “Marcel’s alive, Scott.”


           “How the heck is that even possible, huh?” Scott demanded to know, the glare being sent straight to Brock, “Marcel was shot at the back of his head and the bullet escaped through his cheek.”


           “He wasn’t dead, though, Scott. You just didn’t see it in an angle that I did. The bullet grazed the side of his head. He has a scar to prove it, too.” He made clear, “looks, speaking about this… I do not doubt that Craig is gone.”


           “What?”

         

           “He’s not.” Brock said, eyes staying on Ryan’s broken self, “I think Ryan being Ryan, had managed to get him back the day Tyler went rogue. I know he refused to bury Craig; he refused to let him go, and we all didn’t know why. But when I saw the guy… I had, and until today, have a feeling Craig isn’t gone and that is because I sa—”


           “He’s… still… a ghost.” That new voice shocked both Brock and Scott; sea-green eyes met a white ceiling, then the two faces. One he was so happy to see, and the other… he was relieved to have seen despite the malice growing in his heart. “I… managed to pull him back after… Tyler stormed out. He… didn’t say… a- anything, but just… he just… watched me talking. The wound… it was… he wouldn’t say anything. I… managed to close both sides…. but I knew he needed a hospital… so… so I took him there. They saved him. I wanted to tell Tyler, but Jonathan had cut all ties with him.” Now having that off his chest, Ryan could speak without stopping, “I brought Brock here to at least tell that to Tyler, but I guess the guy won’t listen to anyone now. I don’t blame him for that decision. I know Jonathan would have done the same thing if I had been the one who lost a life that day.” A pause, “Scott. Talk to him, please. I want out of here.”


           Should he let—?


           “I want to see Hope.”


           His chest blew to a million pieces. He still had his humanity. He still did, and he still did notice. He… yes, everything was wrong. But… Tyler… he had every right. He lost Craig, and still believed that he did. Craig was everything to him, and he lost him before they could even get married. It was a nightmare to watch Tyler succumb to the darkness. But… he couldn’t lose him, either. Tyler was a man he promised to take care of, not lose him to a force none of them to evade from.


           “Scott… please. Not for me, and not for Jon. But for Sam and Hope. They’re everything to me.” Ryan continued to beg, pulling his hand away from Brock’s hold and to grasp at Scott’s. “I want to say goodbye, at least.” Another pause, “please, Scott. I’m not even going to Jonathan, if you’re wondering. I just want to see the kids… that is it.”


           “Does Jon know about Craig?” Scott asked, ignoring Ryan.


           “No.” He breathed, “he does not.”


           “Then get out.” Scott said, still not looking at either Brock or Ryan—he didn’t realise, but he had already made it to the only door and held the knob in his hands; his head was turned so that he could look over his shoulder, “I will create some type of 15-minute-window, so go. But promise me you will not see Jon.”


           It was a mistake Ryan had made, but he knew it was smart to not see Jonathan, and so. he nodded and took a quick look at Brock, before looking towards Scott, “I promise.”


           With that, the door closed and Brock went to work. He grabbed fresh clothes and puled them to cover Ryan’s bandages. It was all slow, but fast enough so that Ryan had enough time to leave. Knowing the place like the back of his hand, Brock remembered an exit only he and Scott knew—he grabbed at Ryan’s arm and secured it around his neck before cupping his other hand underneath Ryan’s knees. “Sorry, Ry. But we need to move fast.”


           “I- I got it.” Ryan whimpered with the feeling climb up his legs—he didn’t know he was that hurt.


           The two raced down the hall, breaths panting for different reasons. The secret passage was underground, Brock remembered—just like how Jonathan’s hide out had been like. Only five minutes had passed, far longer than Brock calculated, but that was only because Ryan made him stop so he could at least remember he was in Brock’s arms and not Tyler’s. The next five minutes was evading guards. Now some of them had grown to like Ryan, and let them pass, but some… didn’t. Brock had to fight them, of course, but tried to not use his primary way of attack because Tyler had the knack of spotting who exactly had what fighting style.


           Brock noticed how his shirt was bunched in a fist, made too tightly for broken knuckles to endure. He realised just how much Ryan had been tortured the past fortnight, and he couldn’t do anything to stop Tyler—and now everything was up to Scott, how may be killed because of what Brock and Ryan are doing right then. But at least the former did tell Scott that Marcel’s alive. “Brock, please.” The beg was quiet, “it- it’s too much.”


           “I am so sorry, Ryan. I know it’s too much, but we’re almost there.”


           The fear grew within Ryan, but he had to trust Brock. He wasn’t Tyler—he was his friend. He was trusted by Craig. There was nothing to worry about but the image of a sneer was too much for Ryan at that point, having seen it too many times for him to count. He blinked harshly to keep the tears at the back of his eyes; just to have him see Hope and Sam, Brock didn’t stop for a breather—wait. There it was. The exit. A silver door with only two guards standing there. Ryan knew them. Lui and Nogla. He missed them.


           “Brock?” Lui called out, lowering his gun as he saw the male run towards the exit, “who is that you’re holding—wait… is that Ryan!?”


           “Shit!” Nogla exasperated, “what the heck happened?”


           Because they were always positioned underground, they never knew what was going up on the surface. They knew Tyler had kidnapped someone, but they didn’t know that someone had been their former friend and former boss’ boyfriend. “He did it again.” Brock said, stopping by their sides, “a dozen times now.” The words caused Ryan to bury himself deeper in Brock’s hold.


           “Don’t tell me that Tyler did that to the point he’s…” a gulp, “he’s broken…”


           I am already broken from the start. Ryan wanted to say, but forced himself to not speak. He spoilt the lives of Sam and Hope in less than a bloody hour, and he left it for Jon to see. Both through a feed and through seeing it with his own eyes.


           “He can be saved,” Brock said, not letting the way Ryan had gone almost limp in his arms, “he needs to see Sam and Hope, please don’t sto—”


           He wanted to say more, of course, but the growl had caught all of them in a prison so cold, their blood had gone to a rigid freeze in seconds. “What in the absolute fuck!?” Tyler’s voice rained down an anger everyone shivered at; even if Tyler was on the surface, his voice was loud enough to be heard in the underground passage “where the fuck did they go, Scott!?”


           Lui was struck with a shock, but open the door after catching himself nevertheless, “go on,” a pause, “we’ll be behind you.”


           “You’ve got to be kidding with me, Lui!” Nogla snarled, pulling Lui away from the exit, “you know how dangerous Tyler gets when he’s angry!”


           “We’re losing Ryan as we speak, Daithi!” Lui fought, re-stealing his arm from Nogla’s hold, “I doubt Ryan will let Jon see him in that state. His top priority are the kids, don’t tell me you won’t allow for him to do so.” When Nogla didn’t say anything, the shorter male turned back to Brock and said, “get out of here.”


           Brock nodded and escaped into the night, not turning back. He knew he ran for a good ten minutes when he realised that both Lui and Nogla were running after him. What he didn’t realise was that Ryan had jumped from being carried and landed on his feet and ran on ahead—when he did become aware, he noticed the way in which his shoulder started shaking, and the sob was going to wreck him if he didn’t release it. “Ryan!” He called out, voice firm though faltering, “don’t lose yourself!”


           Ryan disregarded Brock’s request and kept running. His feet pushed himself off the ground and started sprinting away despite the pain growing in every single corner of his body. Ryan just kept running and his vision waltzed—after only a mere three blocks did he finally choke on that sob that he tried to hold and forced himself to stop. I am so sorry. He lurched forward, and there was a deadly shriek dampening into his hand. His muscles burnt into a fire too hot for him to stand, his heart raced and screamed, and the rain started to pour once again that week. He fell to his knees, and pounded his fists onto the ground that stopped him from falling. Blaring droplets contacted the ground; the tears finally escaped. He felt warm hands on his shoulders, making him stand and leading him to the nearest shelter. He didn’t even take into account that he collapsed, letting gravity take over and friction to disappear. Those arms released his body, and he fell to his knees. His nails clawed at the cracked pavement, fingertips wounded again by the chipped edges. His fingers dug deep, blood now mixing in with the course of the rain.


           Two weeks, Jon. You haven’t seen me for two weeks, and I am so stupid to have promised to not see you. I’m so stupid.

Nuhumans are wonderful. I Love Them. No Reason. Just a Quick Post, for Fellow Nuhuman Fans to Share The Love.

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Inferno (Dante Pertuz)

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quax-of-dorne  asked:

-Slides in- You definitely need to tell me more about Nala, for science and reasons.

Ok so I guess it’s not that long? Doesn’t really get into her personality TOO much, mainly her backstory (a summary anyway). I’m gonna put this on her character page too.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Is Levi aware of his own physical attractiveness or is he just modestly indifferent about it?

Great question, anon!

DISCLAIMER: This is my personal opinion. In no way am I stating what I say here is canon or completely accurate. if you disagree with my opinion or want to share your view on this with me; that’s awesome and I’m all for it! But, if you are going to send me hate, do me a favor and don’t even bother.

Okay, hear me out on this lol.

I don’t think Levi is considered all that attractive in the SnK universe. I mean, he’s short, in his thirties, looks indifferent or exhausted a lot of the time, rarely smiles, has horrible social skills, and he’s extremely intimidating. Sure, he’s the Captain of the Survey Corps and Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, which I’m sure gets him a lot of potential suitors. But, based on his looks alone? I doubt it.

I’m positive a lot of people find him physically attractive, but I don’t think he’s fawned over based on his looks a whole lot. More often than not, it’s probably due to his position, his strength, or the fact that he’s “mysterious”. Not a whole lot of people are aware of Levi’s origin. His background, family, last name, and past is unknown to 99% of the people in the SnK universe. I imagine a lot of people find him very intriguing, but probably not insanely attractive.

I think men like Erwin and Mike would be the type that most people fawned over due to their appearance. Tall, buff, powerful, Adonis like men lol. Levi is attractive to us because he was drawn to be that. But, I imagine that in the world of SnK, Levi isn’t looked at as being a creature carved by angels. More like a short, intimidating, oddly pristine thirty year old man who needs a nap.

TAGGED BY: @howdiidwegcthere
TAGGING: @junicr @jeanieisms @violetxsilverxstark @iwillmakemystandhere @timcspirit ?? i have already tagged a lot of ppl in a similar tag thingie lol but if i didnt tag u and u wanna do it JUST DO IT DONT LET UR DREAMS BE DREAMS

(i’m doing this for REMEMBRANCE.)

FULL NAME: Remembrance (last name Unknown)
OTHER NAMES: often referred to as simply ‘the driver’ or just ‘driver’.
TITLE:  the driver, or the wheelman (although… she’s not a man…).
AGE:  26
GENDER: cis female.
SEXUALITY: heterosexual, aromantic
ORIGIN: ohio
CURRENT LOCATION: verse dependent; has ended up in just about every major city at some point.
NATIONALITY: american.
ETHNICITY: caucasian.
SPOKEN LANGUAGES: english and french.
RELIGION: none.
HEIGHT: 5’4”
BODY TYPE: small, thin, but not usually unhealthy.
EYES: brown
HAIR: brown

TATTOOS: none
PIERCINGS: none
EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND: Graduated High School, as well as a police academy
SOCIAL MEDIA: None (its the 1970s). (even in a modern verse, probably is lucky to have email)
SMOKING: not unless it is to blend into a situation (not a person preference)
DRINKING: probably just a little too much lbr
DRUGS: no
ATHLETICS: not athletic, doesn’t really exercise. does know a thing or two about physical fights, mostly because she’s gotten into a few in her time and as such, learned how to get out of them (or finish them). her size leaves her at a distinct disadvantage in most cases, but that’s not enough to make her back down.
HOBBIES: driving, working on cars, and to some degree other engine-powered machines, looking at cars, drag racing (both street racing and the official nhra/ihra sport), 
VIRGIN: no.
FAVORITE DRINK: 7-up
FAVORITE FOOD: anything she can get her hands on, usually, but if she actually has choices, she’s a big fan of breakfast foods. she also enjoys things like hamburgers, hotdogs, etc- she’s not terrible healthy in the eating department.
FAVORITE MUSIC: steely dan, led zepplin, eagles, blondie, thin lizzy, cheap trick, grand funk railroad, talking heads… a lot of popuar 70s rock bands, bands that would have been played on whatever local AOR station. not much into buying records because then she’d have to store them/travel with them/whatever. usually listens on a walkman.
CLOTHING STYLE: basic tees, a lot of ringer tees (black and white mostly) with neutral colored jackets and blazers. has a light brown suede bomber jacket that she wears often; also a leather moto jacket that’s seen better days. owns a couple different black blazers, in typical 70s style with the wide angular lapels. owns a fair few neutral (grays, blacks, whites, tans) button up shirts as well. she wears them untucked. usually always wears a thin gold chain necklace that was her mothers’. usually always wears blue jeans (any wash). basic, practical lace up shoes, black or brown. they are quite worn.
UNDERWEAR TYPE: anything that was cheap at the dime store tbh

The Real Problem with Lily is not with Lily

(springboarding off this)

He’s spending half his life peeling off cold, damp clothing. Whatever this trend is in rain scenes, he hopes it becomes passé. Kris, the current wardrobe manager, is starting to shudder when he hands her heaps of dripping garments. They’re cold and clammy. Wet wool weighs like thirty-eight pounds more than dry and smells like a herd of sheep.

His dry clothes are rough against his skin. He should probably change his detergent. Lily swans past on the way to her car without even looking at him.

“Goodnight, or not…” he mumbles when her car door slams. She checks her hair in her review mirror, but he catches her watching him for a moment. She turns the key in the ignition. It grinds because the engine is already running, but she hurriedly drives away.

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Person of Interest types

Hey guys, I know it’s not anime, but here’s a comprehensive list of MBTI types from Person of Interest. I tried to be as thorough as possible but some of the characters were really difficult to place. Hope you enjoy it!

John Reese (real name John H., last name unknown)  – ISTP (Ti-Se-Ni-Fe), Crafter

In Person of Interest, John is shown before Harold; a complex, initially unstable person driven to the brink by his inability to deal with his strong objective ethics (inferior Fe, an ISTP’s attitude toward emotion). He is later shown to house Ti as his main function (reclusive, introverted, private, curious) coupled to auxiliary Se (he digs the action). When reasoning, he uses Ti-Ni looping, but even without the loop, his Ni is insanely strong (the interrogation at the FBI). And his inferior Fe is the main driving force behind his actions, and a strong and developed moral center later on (“Yes, I do. There are far too many bad people in this world, and not enough good. I knew a detective once, and she was the best cop I ever knew. Never lost sight of good and evil. I couldn’t save her. Now, this job is dangerous. You think I am too. So be it. Maybe that makes me unfit to be a cop. If I don’t save these people, nobody else will.”)

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Let me reframe a scene for you.

We’re all familiar with Dean’s line from Let It Bleed: “I was too busy having sex with women.” He says it by way of explaining why he has never heard of famous horror writer H. P. Lovecraft. The line is immediately suspect, and often read as Dean simply over-compensating. He does not want to come across as a geek.

Because not only does Dean read (see brilliant gif-set, which is not an exhaustive list of the literary references made by the character over the years), not only would H. P. Lovecraft’s stories be pretty much directly up his alley, there’s also the case of the Metallica song The Call of Ktulu. Bobby actually mentions Lovecraft’s short-story “The Call of Ctulhu” to Dean in an attempt to pique his memory, and he still gives them the “What?” face. Like Dean has no idea what Bobby is talking about.

There is literally no chance that anyone who listens to Metallica does not know the (instrumental) song or the story behind the name. We all read the story after Ride the Lightning came out. The chance of Dean Winchester not knowing who H. P. Lovecraft was is zero, and they lampshade it by mentioning the one short-story that Dean 100% would know. There are two things here that Dean ought to know, and he claims not to.

Even Ben freaking knows.

So, what’s going on? Sera Gamble, a writer that had been with the show from the first season, had total amnesia? Maybe she decided to write Dean completely out of character for a cheap no-homo joke? To make sure the audience knows how straight Dean Winchester truly is in an episode focused heavily on his past relationship with a suburban, conventionally feminine all-American woman because it was this episode in which the audience needed a reminder that Dean likes women?

I sincerely doubt it.

Meet Judah (last name unknown), a horror literature buff:

Bobby went to Judah to get more information about Lovecraft. We see the man’s apartment, full of geek-y paraphernalia. You get the idea, looking at his apartment, that he and Dean might have hit it off if Dean had been the one to work the case. Alas, he doesn’t.

But what’s interesting is this:

This was only the third time the tiger painting had been used, so it’s difficult to make hard conclusions on what it was used to signal. But in Hammer of the Gods, it was used next to the ‘Black Cat’ painting that had been associated with Ash from the start, and afterward was used to signal his lingering presence in Dean’s mind. The first time we saw the tiger painting was in Simon Says, an episode that actually featured Ash (and naked Ash) – in Andy’s van (the newer fans might not remember this, but people used to ship Ash and Andy pretty hard even though they never met, which just tells you that there was something similar in their characters). Dean actually says “I like the tiger”, upon first seeing it, growing fond of the guy. 

It’s possible to read the episode in multiple ways, but one of the possibilities, factoring in the broader arc of the season, is that Andy was a mirror for Ash, Ansem (Weber, that is) was a parallel for Sam, and Tracy was Dean. Regardless, Andy and Ash had a lot in common, their big cat paintings the least among them. A suggestion might be made that the painting was used to signal not Ash, but not!Ash. Someone like Ash but not actually him.

Which would fit in well with Judah, whose outward appearance is like a mixture of Ash and Castiel. He’s kind of like Ash in Castiel’s colours.

But what’s really interesting is that we see Judah look at the tiger painting immediately following this exchange:

Bobby: So, I hear you have a large collection of Lovecraft’s private letters.
Judah:
Oh yeah. World’s largest.
Bobby: Wow. You must be catnip to the ladies.
Judah: I’m in a long-term online relationship, so…

Note that he does not say he is in a long-term online relationship with a woman. His mention of his long-term online relationship makes him not look at his computers, but at the painting of the tiger.

Okay, so the Lovecraft geek has an online girl-friend, what of it?

Nothing, unless it was mentioned in an episode in which Dean Winchester hysterically denies knowing something he ought to know really well that this man has a passion for. You’ll notice later, after Dean finishes his call with Crowley about Ben and Lisa’s hostage situation, that he no longer pretends not to know who Lovecraft is. He recalls the name easily. Tells Bobby to stay on “the Lovecraft thing”.

Note also the fact that Dean R. Koontz is mentioned alongside Dickens by Judah as literary masters. Dean is actually name-checked by him. You know, because when you’re in love you want to say the person’s name all the time, even if it means paralleling Charles Dickens with a B-rate horror writer instead of, say, mentioning Stephen King.

I’m not saying Dean was Judah’s “long-term online relationship”. But I will point out that we never learn how Bobby (or Castiel, for that matter, who had crept on sleeping Dean to acquire the Lovecraft journal) even knew how to find Judah.

Featured on the mantle: a (relation)ship with a sun clock and “it’s a small world“ globe.

The fact that Dean might (emphasis on might) have had an online relationship with a Lovecraft aficionado puts Dean’s choking at Sam informing him that nothing can be deleted from the internet into new light.

Judah’s name, incidentally, means affirmation or thanksgiving in Hebrew.

The Mission Impossible

What about a ‘hey I’m sorry to bother you but i’m trying to convince myfriends I’m a sex god so can you please write a fake number on this napkin for me real quick’

I saw this on my dash and just had to write it. I hope you like this!

“It’s true,” Skye shrugs with a smug grin on her face, “I am in fact a sex god.”

“Sure, and I’m Santa Claus,” Lance mocks, tipping back the last of his drink. “I want to see that.”

“What, you want to see Skye having sex?” Trip jokes and Skye laughs. Lance just rolls his eyes and punches Trip’s shoulder.

“Of course not. Gross. Ew. And besides that I wouldn’t want to have sex with any of you, thank you very much.”

“Now I’m offended.” Skye winks and takes another swig of her beer.

“What? Never mind. I want to see you pull someone. A girl. Because you’re an outstanding bisexual, and I’ve seen you pick up a man before. But never a woman. And you claim to be a sex god, so you should be able to pull that one off right, love.”

“Sure,” Skye says and takes another shot that’s standing around on their table. Mostly for courage. “Why not.”

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