#throwxawayxthexkey

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

( a lil’ 20s!Detective starter for II @throwxawayxthexkey​ )

“So, ye’ said ye’ had a case for me? Or at least somethin’ of interest. Don’t worry, wha’ever ye’ tell me will be for my ears only,” assured the copper, as he blew another puff from his ciggie. Now, it wasn’t like Richard Mayhew to accept anonymous calls from anonymous people, asking him to meet them at the nearby pub so that they can talk to him about a potential, under-the-table case. Would he get in trouble for doing so? Perhaps. However, the tug of his curiosity was stronger than most. “Also, remind me again why ye’ didn’t go to the station for this? Also... How did ye’ get my number?”

[warrioroflondonbelow]

II ( closed starter for @throwxawayxthexkey )

“Mate, I don’t want any trouble,” huffed Richard, who was currently backed up against the nearest wall.  “Is that right?” grumbled the drunken brute towering over him. “Should’ve thought’ve that before you ran that big mouth of yours.” “Look, the lady said no. Maybe if ye’ kept yer’ hands to yer’self then maybe--” “There you go again,” continued the drunken arse as he grabbed Richard by the front of his jumper. “Has anybody told you that you really should learn how to shut up?” So, there Richard Mayhew was. Pinned to a wall in some quiet corner of a London pub, sporting a black eye. The Scotsman reckoned that he’d walk away from this one-sided fight with much more than a black eye. No exit. No escape. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to wriggle away from the towering brute’s claws. Richard was trapped. There was only thought running through the Scotsman’s head at a time like this and that was-- ‘Shite. Shite. Shite. Shite. Shite.’

[bondsgotnothingonme]

@throwxawayxthexkey​ | From HERE

“Excuse me?” James’ hand extended in front of him as he approached the police tape, trying to remain polite yet firm as he stopped the other from crossing the line. He was hardly a policeman, but he had been one of the first on the scene, and his convenient police cover story had seemed a natural choice.  So now he stood awkwardly, told to stop anyone wandering onto the scene. So much for his night off.

 “You can’t come through here - you’ll have to take the tube OR walk over to Lambeth bridge and cross there.” 

[dxsole]

@throwxawayxthexkey​ | Cont. from X

“—Oh, shut up Charles.”

[magiciitself]

    Merlin had all but given up on thinking that Arthur would return. It had been nearly two thousand years, he was halfway there at least and there was no way he would come back. Why he had ever believed in the dragon in the first place, he didn’t know. However, one day he was in for a shock when he spotted someone who looked exactly like Arthur across the street from him. No. No way, that couldn’t be. So he did what anyone else would do who was told their friend would eventually return, he followed him.

    He seemed nothing like Arthur so far, though Merlin had kept h is distance enough that he probably wasn’t getting good information from him. He would just have to interact with him first hand to see what he was like. Either this was his Arthur or this was a trick of some sort. He wouldn’t be surprised at this point if the universe was just messing with him.

    Walking over to him, Merlin cleared his throat gently and said, “Hey uh…have we met before?” It was better than calling him Arthur just in case it wasn’t really him. He already felt foolish enough asking that anyway.

@throwxawayxthexkey ; plotted starter.

[blackswritings]

[ closed starter for @throwxawayxthexkey ] 

He watched them come and go. Worlds of youngsters destroyed. Students who became death eaters, getting the task to spy between the walls. Some whose futures had been carefully stippled out just like his had been. The thing was, you had no choice. As much as Dumbledore kept preaching it was up to you to choose the light or the dark – when it came down to reality, you didn’t. It was an illusion, one he had believed in for the longest time. Until his faithful moment. Until that one summer he was dragged here, forced to get engaged to the perfect pureblood girl. Even when his grandmother passed, the contract was signed and even though the wedding had not yet happened, there was no escaping it.

Needless to say, life didn’t go as planned for the young Black who had rebelled against the believes of his family. By the time his father did escape Azkaban it was too late and the male only had Harry printed in his mind either way. Now he was seated at the table, quietly, sitting straight next to his fiancee and a mark on his arm. Watching quietly as proud mothers and fathers walked in force their children into getting the mark. There were a few exceptions of course, some seemed thrilled to get the mark placed. They had no idea what they were getting into. 

His eyes followed the next coming in, it didn’t even matter at this point whether they were half-blood or pureblood. They needed people. Any one with a hate towards mudbloods were welcomed ‘warmly’. “How many more.” He muttered towards the woman next to him who dug her nails into his hand on his comment. “What? They are all young, they have no idea what they are getting themselves into.” He spoke underneath his breath, his eyes still on the person walking in.

[aspernamentum]

@throwxawayxthexkey

     The air was oppressively clear in Edinburgh; the place was so open, so exposed. At night there was a certain briskness that came over the place, a chill that unlike the New York freeze was rather pleasant. It nipped at Jimmy’s ears, made his nose redder than usual. “Seems a guy could really disappear in a place like this.” Jimmy commented. Of course this wasn’t a vacation, Jimmy didn’t really do holidays anymore. Fact was that Hopkins Enterprises had gone international, and prospective buyers had to be treated with respect, no matter how much it irked Jimmy. Back home he was a king, out there, he was just another tourist with an annoying accent. “Anyways, lets get down to brass taxes, huh?” He was unshaven, his tie was loose and his top button was undone; a far cry from the sharp Mafioso gang-bangers of old. He pulled his briefcase onto the table, opened it, and pulled out a brick of Colombian marching powder. He tore open the bag. “You look like you’ve done this rodeo a thousand times before; you know the score. I can get this shit into your country,” he began cutting the coke. “S’long as you’ve got some loyal customers, this shit here’s a license to print money.” 

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

( @throwxawayxthexkey​ II Continued from here )

“Yer’ employers a he, eh?” smirked Richard, tilting his chin up so he could meet his captor head on. If there was one thing that could be said about the likes of Richard Oliver Mayhew, it was that he certainly didn’t lack balls. As far as he was concerned, despite it causing him trouble a lot of times, cockiness, in his line of business, was a skill he constantly had and liked to sharpen. “Mm. Not a talker? Tha’s fine,” he shrugged, as he continued to try and wriggle out of his bonds. “I’ve plenty of mouth to go ‘round.” “If yer’ not gonna tell me, can ye’ at least give me a hint? It’s the least ye’ can do after knockin’ me out-- potentially givin’ me a concussion-- and tyin’ me up in the middle of some dark basement. How kinky of ye’, by the way,” teased the Scotsman. “So, yer’ reason for kidnappin’ me then. Is it money-based, revenge-based, or did it involve me sleepin’ with yer’ bosses wife or girlfriend, or somethin’?”