"Good. Next time I wonât be so pleasant.â
"Oh, but you know how much I enjoy our riveting conversations!"

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@pyromanijackarchive-blog
"Good. Next time I wonât be so pleasant.â
"Oh, but you know how much I enjoy our riveting conversations!"
"Iâd rather rip your hair from your scalp and eat it than do that.â
"Ouch. I'm offended!"
[ The sky was the same yesterday as it was today. Â She will die the way she lived, or so they would say, if they were still they ( the collective them ). She wants to know whatâs out there. The great beyond. Is there more then the Fringe? Or is this all â but this canât be all. She knows she might never gather the courage but yet, she finds herself wandering a little further within time. She also knows that the foxes wont be sure to follow, maybe Ash, but sheâs not even sure on that. Sheâs a bit far from home again, and the city is as dangerous as it always has been. Only its not the people this time. Or the dark clouds casting warning of rain and storm. Itâs the building. Itâs crumbling, breaking. Pieces have already fall upon her and cut her leg. Thereâs blood rolling her tan-like skin, but she continues on, trying to find the way out. And thatâs when an entire floor comes crashing down. Thankfully it didnât catch her but it caught someone else. And theyâre knocked over. So she runs to their side and kneels. ]Â
       âOh god⊠you poor thing, letâs hope you can still walkâŠâ
[Â A jovial whistle flits through the Fringe prancing impishly through the backstreets, climbing it's melodious way up the drainpipes and dancing across the paper-thin rooftops of the slums with padded staccato feet. It's owner, a rugged young boy named Jack Gallagher, Alpha of the Wolf Pack, follows shortly behind like a loyal dog at it's master's heels, spear clutched tightly in one palm, the knuckles of his hand white with tension, a bottle of rum in the other. The red military jacket he adorns to keep out the bite of the wind's bitter fangs is worn and darned, patched like a quilt across the elbows, odd buttons restitched onto the front where the original brass ones have rolled off into the abyss, but to him it's home. The building to his left is dying, brick by brick the life draining from it's soul as it abandons itself to the Grim. And then, it happens--- One moment he's standing tall, proud smirk on his face; in an instant he's on his back, pinned down by a hunk of concrete as the world shatters beneath his feet. ]
       âFuck me! What in the name of Obadiah Gallagher was--â [ A hoarse cough escapes his lips and he tries to roll away from the thick cloud of smoke and asbestos only to find that his arm is trapped; he's dead meat. Quite unexpectedly, a voice breaks the void like a shining beam of light, a ray of hope in the crumbling world and she with auburn hair cascading over her shoulders is at his side, her full lips uttering a question. ]Â
       âJesus, I-- I can't move it's... My arm, it's bloody trapped or sommat, d'you think y'could? Sorry. Fuck!â
PRIMADONNA | a playlist for the HBIC of the Wolf Pack. [listen]
i. sexyback - justin timberlake | ii. donatella - lady gaga | iii. remember the name - fort minor | iv. diva - beyonce | v. money power glory - lana del ray | vi. womanizer - britney spears | vii. 99 problems - jay-z | viii. it's tough to be a god - the road to el dorado | ix. shots - LMFAO ft. lil jon | x. i just can't wait to be king - simba and nala | xi. if i can't dance - sophie ellis bextor | xii. fabulous - sharpay and ryan | xiii. hollaback girl - gwen stefani | xiv. fancy - iggy azalea | xv. popular - wicked | xvi. rockstar - prima j | xvii. primadonna - marina and the diamonds | xviii. royals - LORDE.
[ She stood in the corner of the tent, muddled somewhat within a shadow but her presence was undeniable. She hadnât actually gotten to see Jack in all the time heâd been in here, always denied access with some new excuse everytime her quiet feet approached the tent. He was too weak, too tired, too sick. Eventually sheâd just snuck in, waited for daylight to colour the world yellow and for the wolves to sleep â she didnât sleep much anyway. Cradling a bottle of whiskey, she watched him from the corner, seeing the first sign of life from him for the first time in however long sheâd been in here. First his eyes fluttered, then he yawned, caught sight of her. With a frown, she moved forward and pulled a chair to his side, sitting down by the bed and passing him the bottle. ] "Donât get too used to it â youâre only getting that because you were mauled by a bloody bear.â [ She mumbled, her voice tinged with a taste of bitterness, eyes wide in the dim of the tent. She crossed one leg over the other, tilting her head at him. ]Â
[ He had expected Rory, grumpy and irritable due to lack of sleep from nursing him, but what he received instead was Teddy, bitter as always, but bearing gifts of alcohol. That was something, at least: it would dull the pain a while and pick his spirits up until the three long scars that bisected his torso began to throb again, beckoning him into unconsciousness. With the echo of a smirk creeping across his lips Jack gratefully clasped his fingers around the tepid neck of the bottle, taking a gulp of the lukewarm substance. The whiskey burned his throat, an inferno blaze blistering along his gullet, and the young fire starter exhaled a sigh of satisfaction, his head dropping back against the chicken-feather pillow Rory had filched for him. ]Â
Good stuff, that. [ The wolf king commented nodding a tired head towards the bottle as he rested it against the shattered remnants of his war-torn chest, his index finger circling the bottle's mouth. A raspy chuckle broke from his lips, his mouth spreading into a restrained version of the hearty grin that used to decorate his lips, before the fall. ] In that case, maybe I should get mauled by bloody bears more often. [ He let out a labored sigh, his olive eyes fluttering shut again, and stared into the into the abyss that lurked beyond sight, some semblance of a smile on his lips. ] You miss me?
[ The Witch Doctor's tent was a separate world cut-off from the rest of reality like a remote universe that existed independently from the hustle and bustle of the Den. Time did not exist in the tent for minutes stretched into hours and hours into days. Since waking minutes, hours or days previous the Alpha had drifted in and out of sleep, assisted by the help of Rory's opium. It, like the ability to submerge his thoughts in unconsciousness, dulled the pain and rest would be the best healer for him now. Stirring slightly, the boy executed an animated yawn, blinking his tired olive eyes at the blurred figure in the corner of the tent, his vision gradually coming into focus, blind spots waning like the rising moon. ]Â
...Is that whiskey? Can I getta' hit of that?
neverland is a place for children to visit in their dreams, not a place for them to live. you were the first to try and stay and in doing so youâre breaking the rules.
You are a brick tied to me thatâs dragging me down Strike a match and Iâll burn you to the ground We are the jack-o-lanterns in July Setting fire to the sky Here comes this rising tide So come on Put on your war paint
[ The Fringe was an animal kingdom, made up of creatures less than human. Creatures filled with blood lust and sharpened teeth ready to tear an unsuspecting personâs throat out. The kingdom had no one ruler, but multiple people vying for the crown - from young boys barely out of puberty, to women who hid razors in their wrists. You could trust no one, and it was a case of getting the first hit in first. But Pyro? Everyone knew Pyro, even if just to mutter about what a pretentious little brat he could be.Talia made it her mission to keep out of the way of the leaders, except for business propositions, and even then - Still it was Pyro the boy wonder who was under her knife, and Pyro who appeared to find the situation entirely hilarious.
She heard the spear clatter to the ground but didnât let up from her defensive position. His innocent expression was just like another act no doubt, and she held no question that if sheâd have loosened up her grip, heâd have taken the spear to her throat. Frankly it was offensive that heâd even thought that a cheap trick like that would have tripped her up. She narrowed her eyes at him, pressing the blade harder against his throat, a dribble of blood staining the steel. ] Oh Py, weâve been over this [ Her tone was no longer so sharp, instead her voice had changed into the sort of voice you applied to a petulant four year old - which was all Pyro was to Talia ] You know Iâm not cheap.
[ It was the thrill of the unknown that had always added fuel to Pyro's fire -- the uncertainty of impulse that championed his reckless ways. He was an adrenaline junkie, living life on the edge, risk-taking his sole outlet. The Alpha's smirk only grew broader as he felt the knife nick his neck -- so she liked to play dirty? Jack could play games too; he was the grand-master and he never said no to playing with your food. He could feel her breath on his neck, could count each freckle on her face, could see the individual hairs that made up each strong brow framing her eyes. ]Â
Let's not play with toys, eh, Talia? I dunno-- maybe it turns you on to have a man at your mercy but this whole dagger-at-your-throat thing? Not my forte, mate. Girls who play with fire get their fingers burnt. You'll have to try a lot 'arder than that if you want to get me even remotely interested. [ At her comment about the 'pricing' of her services Jackie chuckled, rolling his olive eyes indifferently as they trailed to the outline of her figure, illuinated by the flickering spotlight. As if he needed her services -- Jackie didn't have to go to the girls; they came to him, and he certainly didn't have to pay. ] Don't play that game with me, Princess. Y'know that slummers aren't my bag. Now let's put down the knife and pretend to be cordial, eh?
[ There were times when Adeline could get away with being brave, but that didnât meant she wasnât afraid of the stuff that often happened in the Fringe. ] Not everyone has the luxury to live their lives as you do.. [ Adelineâs life was dull, compared to the boyâs words. Everyday was a chore, she couldnât afford to make mistakes. Whenever she deviated from her goals, something bad would happen. Like being cornered on an alley by mules on gunpoint, forced to give all her earnings of the day to the bastards. It was the main reason why she always sneakily ran throughout the streets of the Fringe. If she ran fast enough, she would never be caught. It was her only weapon of choice, or well, skill. ]
Why do you even care about walking me home? Most of the people in here could care less about me, they would have killed me already if they had gotten the chance. Why havenât you? [ The words slipped off her mouth, but she was so curious as to why he was being so kind to her. For all she knew, he could be driving her towards her death. She kept her eyes on him at all times, looking at his every move. ]
[ At her words --  that could, had he not known better, have seemed catty and vicious; though he didn't deem her capable of such things -- an amused smirk emblazoned the Alpha's face and he lifted his hands in mock surrender, his eyes glancing across the girl. ] Oooh! Step back! That's got me told, eh, lassie? [ A boisterous chuckle departed his lips and he lifted his hands up towards his face, rubbing them together and blowing them with warm hair before they delved back down into the Aladdin's cave of his pockets, hidden deep within all the secrets and treasure he kept prized away from hungry eyes there. The girl at his side, her quick stride matching his pace, was small, fragile, like a delicate flower to be handled with care in case the petals should cascade to the ground, dead, but Jack knew better than to assume she was weak. No one in the Fringe was weak if they had managed to survive this long.
Her questions probed at him, digging him for answers that he didn't have. She more than just a pretty face; she was a curious young soul, smart, too, but there was something cryptic about her he couldn't get to. Something that Jack, one of the best readers in the Fringe, could not decipher. But despite being put on the spot, he had an answer of course. Young Jack had an answer to everything. ] I believe in random acts of kindness. [ The Alpha declared, turning the corner towards the first strip of slums. The houses were abundant but they were all in the one place down these backstreets. Those whom ventured out into homes far from any sort of civilization in a place like the Fringe were either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, depending on your point of view. ] For example, walkin' you 'ome ain't gonna' waylay me on my journey, but should I not 'ave done so and 'ave later found you dead in the ditch I couldn't bare the guilt. I'm not saying you can't defend yourself -- I'm sure you can, I'm just saying that sometimes it's best to 'ave someone by your side to deter any advancin' threats, savvy?
once upon a time: two villains » peter pan  [1/2]
[ Itâs cold in the Fringe. A sort of cold that seeps into your bones and leaves you for dead, and raids your corpse before moving on. The sort of cold that was merciless and cutting - much like the residents of of the the Fringe. How appropriate. But money was tough in the Fringe, and it was far better to eat than to be warm. Priorities were important - but Talia had her fair share of soft gloves and warm scarves that lay in the bottom of cupboards and drawers. Gifts from people that shedâd collected over the years. She never brought them out. The entire Fringe was built on instability and danger, and Talia walked close enough to the line. Brighting out those gifts and trinkets would have just been asking - no begging, for a knife in the throat. So she suffered in skimpy blouses, cut low and daring. Talia didnât mind particularly. So long as she kept to herself, she could usually walk through the cobbled streets without fear of attack. The other prostitutes were be less lucky - it was hardly surprising when one of them turned up dead on the ground after attracting the wrong type of person but Talia?
She played her own game.
Her heels clattered off the cobbled stones as she walked, a thin shawl draped around her shoulders. She had only bothered to button up her blouse half way, and in the waistband of her trousers she kept her familiar knife, only an arms length away should she have needed to drag someoneâs throat out. She could hear someone behind her - indeed sheâd heard them tracking her for the past ten minutes, but she hadnât turned around, and sheâd just carried on walking. It wasnât uncommon for people to be followed, but the people usually got bored, and skulked away. This person, whoever they were, was different. More determined.
The alley way was near her. One, two, three steps away - and she had ducked into the darkness, breathing slightly heavier as she took out the knife, no hesitation or nerves as she held the blade between her hands, allowing the follower to reach the alley, before she swung her arm out, pinning her follower to the wall, the blade pressing lightly against the hollow of their throat, her voice low but sharp, much like the blade that was in her hand ]
"Donât you know its rude to follow people home?"
[ Like a child rebuked, the tiring sun darted behind the cover of the trees, away from the moon's scornful glare. Evening was rising, the waxing opal of light rising like a tidal wave over the jigsaw of crumbling buildings which even the deftest of hands could not reform into a functioning civilization. Like a garden left uncultivated the Fringe had grown wild and uncontrollable, and in the place of daffodils vicious weeds had grown which, no matter how hard they tried, the Bureau could not stamp out. Young Jack Gallagher -- Alpha of the Wolf Pack, master manipulator and award-worthy actor who lived his life as if the Fringe were his stage -- prized himself on being an indomitable weed.
He wielded the spear at his hip with pride as he sauntered through the backstreets of the animal kingdom, Colonel Bogey whistling from his lips, signature smirk in place. By night, the Wolf Pack ruled the streets, their rambunctious yells sounding though the city as they ran across the rubble of the rooftops, Jack at the head of pack. Tonight, however, he had taken it upon himself to have an adventure of his own and not even faithful Rory was by his side to keep him company. He was alone with his thoughts; an intelligent but often misleading companion.
The Alpha's travelling cloak flapped in the wind like a cape, coating him with an aura of mystery as he prowled the streets, his only real objective being to have some harmless fun. The source of his fun -- or not, as the case might prove -- appeared to him like an oasis in the form of a tall, pretty blonde a few paces ahead. Nice arse. Jack was just about to raise his voice to question the woman's affinity with sauntering the dangerous streets alone by night when a hand slammed into his throat, pinning him to the wall. Olive orbs flashed the size of saucers, his heart beating against his ribs like a caged bird flapping helplessly, until it finally came to rest and a boisterous laugh burst from his throat. Holding his hands up in surrender the boy let out a low whistle, eyeing her with amusement. ] Woah! Easy tiger! Y'know, if you wanted to get me against a wall, you could'a just asked, love.
[ A devilish smirk lit the boy's mischievous face and he dropped the spear from his hand, an innocent expression crossing his face. ] Didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to grab people by the throat unless in the action of pure, unadulterated lust?
Itâs my own design
Itâs my own remorse
Help me to decide
Help me make the most of freedom
And of pleasure
Nothing ever lasts forever
Robbie Kay and Thomas Brodie-Sangster as codependent brothers in a grim fairytale-ish scenario. Inspired by this post.
State your name for the record.
"Jack Alexander Gallagher, but shucks round this place call me âPyro.â That's P-Y-R-O, as in âpyromaniac.â â
State your age at the time of interrogation.Â
"How old do you want me to be, Officer?"
Tell us your height, weight, and any distinguishing features we may use for easier identification of your person.
"Nearly six foot, I âspect. Tall enough for an Alpha at any rate. As for the weightâ I have no idea, but donât worry, love, Iâll be sure I donât crush âya. Distinguishing features? Eyes. Lips. Body. Entiretyâ- But Iâm a rather humble lad.âÂ
Tell us about your upbringing.
"Who gives a klunk where youâve been, bud? â-Itâs where youâre goin' that matters. Woah. That was deep, mate. I think I need a minute.â
What is your understanding â if you have any knowledge on the subject â of the terms âgenetically damagedâ and âgenetically pureâ?
"You Squeaks are Top Dog, right? Better than us. Gods to us. We mere mortals should shiver in your awesome presence, right? Tell me, Officer⊠Am I shivverinâ?"
How have you managed to survive in the Fringe since your arrival here?
"Luck, pain, power of will, my obvious charm, a cunning disposition, and a knife under my pillowâ and I didnât arrive here like some shuck struttin' in from bally-go-backwards to bring order an' peace to my kingdom or sommat, I was born and bred here.â
What is your role within the community, what does it entail, and does it detriment the Bureau in any way?
[Derek Hale voice] "Iâm the Alpha.â
What are your combat skills and please tell us all the weapons you use.
"Weâre an easy-goinâ group. We donât pick fights where there are none. Iâm more suited to a missionary position than hands-on, dog-to-dog, tooth-nâ-claw fightinâ, though when push comes to shove I can wield a knife as well as any shuck and my skill with a spear is second to none.â
Tell us, for the record, the places you frequent.
"Not you, thatâs for sure. Sorry, love, youâre not my type.â
Are there any individuals or groups that you perceive as a threat to the Bureauâs safety?
"You bite the dog and the dog bites back â sâlong as you leave as alone we wonât be causinâ you an ounce aâ trouble."
Are you aware of the location of any of the base camps for the so-called âgangsâ which we plan to stamp out?
"Depends on âow much dough you wannaâ spend, mate.â
Whom, in your opinion, is the heart of the community â the glue that keeps you together?
"Me.â
Do you have any skills and/or talents that may benefit or harm the Bureau?
"I can light a match with my teeth if ever you wannaâ strike a candle, mate. Also, I can read. Donât laughâ itâs rare in these parts. Shakespeareâs tragedies are my favorites, in particular Macbeth and Titus. Sânot many in these parts whoâll even know who that is."
Would you be willing to do undercover work for the Bureau?
"Whatâs in it for me, mate? Honour and duty? Fuck that bollocks. I want cash in hand before I so much as flutter an eyelash in your direction. Come back and see me when youâve got your big boy pants on."