Grian Fife. Murder-victim-for-hire. Artist. Ex-Grim Reaper. Beatlemaniac. He's a real nowhere man, living in nowhere land.
Independent OC. || tracking 'mrfife' ||FC: Lee Pace|| Multi-Ship Friendly|| || Mun and muse are OF AGE (19+)
[ T A I N T E D G R A Y ' S S E N T E N C E M E M E ]
↳ ♕ T h e 1 0 0 . P i l o t S t y l e
send me one of the following and i’ll write a little something from my character to yours inspired by the phrase
"What’s going on? What is this?"
"Why the hell are you here?"
"I got myself arrested.”
"Stay put if you want to live."
"Please! I can’t die knowing that you hate me!"
"Stop! The air could be toxic."
"What the hell are you wearing?"
"I haven’t seen my brother in over a year."
"We’re back, bitches!”
"Why so serious, princess?"
"You don’t like being called princess, do you princess?"
"They got a bar in this town? I’ll buy you a beer.”
"You think you’re in charge here?"
"How long do you think we’ll last without those supplies?"
"If we want to get there before dark, we need to leave. Now."
"How about you wait until it’s a fair fight?”
"Rescue me next."
"He’s a criminal."
"I don’t need protecting."
"I am done following orders.”
"I need to just, do something crazy, just because I can. And no one, including you, is gonna stop me."
"You have to trust me. You do still trust me, don’t you?"
"Do you want the people you love to think you’re dead?"
"You shouldn’t have come here.”
"That my friend, is game."
“Hey, would you try to keep up?”
"Maybe we’ve already been exposed to enough radiation to kill us."
"I’ve apologized like a thousand times."
"If we’re gonna kill hundreds of innocent people, we’re gonna do it by the book. Is that clear?”
"If you’re gonna kill someone it’s probably best not to announce it."
"You got a point?"
"Please let me be right."
"So that was the secret they locked you up to keep?"
"They’re gonna kill more people, aren’t they?”
"You don’t mean that."
"You have to warn them."
"Take off your damn clothes."
"Get out of the water — get out of the water now!"
"It looks like you’re trying to get us all killed."
"We can take care of ourselves, can’t we?”
"I don’t care what he tells you."
"Whatever the hell you want."
"We always have a choice.”
"Pretty cool, huh?"
"You call that a sip?"
"What do you know? She can laugh."
"You read anything about glow in the dark forests, or… man eating snakes?”
"Are you out of your mind?"
"You can’t just kill everyone who disagrees with you."
"You all think I’m the bad guy."
"What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? I’m not.”
"Please… show mercy."
"I don’t wanna shoot you, hell… I like you."
"Why aren’t you helping me?"
"Aren’t you tired of always doing what’s expected of you?”
"No. Never. Not gonna happen. Is that clear enough for you?"
“I’m sorry it had to be this way.”
"I’ll deal with you later."
"You wanted to go first. Now quit stalling."
"I knew there was a badass in there somewhere.”
"It’s okay to be afraid."
"We’re not alone."
First instinct was to keep his head turned away from Jack, which was ridiculous. Ignoring it was also ridiculous and ill-advised. The artist sighed and gave a weak smile to the boy. “I wasn’t watching where I was walking and a broom poked me in the eye. I’m not in trouble.” Sometimes the truth was more absurd than any lie.
"———Then why do I feel like this?"
"I-I don’t know, Jack. I don’t think it’s related. I don’t think you’re really fading. I don’t know why you feel like that. Are you hungry?"
The first time Jack sees Grian become really worried, is when he decided to go off on his own to find more charcoal for his new guardian. Grian had been letting Jack borrow it for his own little drawings, and he’d just run out. It was only fair that Jack found him some more.
Now, despite being only five years old, Jack’s used to not being paid much attention. When he lived with grandmother, he could be out all day—sometimes all night—before anyone noticed he was missing.
So, imagine his surprise, when he turns the corner to the distressed calls of his name, and finds Grian looking through the afternoon crowd with an anguished look on his face that Jack has never seen.
He’s only been gone for a few hours.
There’s not many people in the street, and though the little boy stands frozen at the sight of the man, Grian spots him quickly. His first instinct upon seeing the large man run towards him is to flinch, and step back, too shocked to run. But when strong arms wrap around him and pull him up, Jack feels a knot form in his throat, and his lip quivers as he wraps thin arms around broad shoulders, guilty confusion stabbing through his chest.
"Why did you scream like that?"
Although he found the boy, his heart still pounded in his chest and adrenaline ran through his veins. His hands shook. All of him shook. His breathing was ragged, his throat sore from shouting. For a long minute, he didn’t answer Jack.
A number of scenarios passed in front of him, just as they did when he discovered the boy missing. For hours, he searched. For hours, he worried that someone found out and took him. Or that his client wanted to take a child from his home hostage.
"I…I was worried about you, Jack. I thought something happened to you. Don’t do that…or tell me where you’re going, at least. The world is full of people who do bad things and…I’m worried about you going off on your own, okay big guy?"
This was it. For now. There had to be something done. A displeased client was threatening Jack’s life without him knowing it. Grian had to do what was right. He had to protect the boy he’d looked after for years. Jack’s life couldn’t end because of his mistakes. He wouldn’t allow it.
One evening, he came home from ‘work’ with a few train tickets and a hotel reservation slip and pushed them into Jack’s hands. "Please don’t argue. You have to leave right now, you aren’t safe here," he said, voice low and urgent, worry in his expression, even as he searched the adolescent’s for a moment before he pulled him into a final hug. The artist felt his throat grow tight and he gripped Jack tighter.
Grian was desperate to save at least one person he cared about, even if it was only one person. For one, just once, he wanted everyone to live. But that wasn’t how life went.
(i.e. ‘I ate all he cookies in the house and lied about it with crumbs over my face’)
Norma would be lying if she said she didn’t like Grian. She actually happened to adore him, and his presence. She considered him a good friend and often found herself wondering what he was doing throughout the day. It was a platonic kind of wondering, of course. She enjoyed his kindness, insights, and usually happy demeanor. It was a matter of time she asked him to stay for dinner— Norman would probably love a conversation with him as well.
She let out a laugh at his response to her inviting him to dinner. It was no problem, she always made more than needed so she could pack it up for leftover nights or if Dylan stopped by— or if she felt like going down to the motel and giving some to Officer Romero. The next question he asked caused her to pause and think, falling silent for a short moment. “Oh— sketch of me?” She felt conscious to stand still, if he had started already. “I guess- why not?” A small chuckle passed her lips. “Go right ahead.” Nobody had ever asked that before, she knew Grian was an artist but never saw much of his work, she was curious if he would show her once he was finished.
Even as he started, Grian’s ears grew crimson. The words in his mouth had been clumsy, misshapen. She seemed to not mind them, even though they stumbled and stuttered and fell awkwardly. He hadn’t meant to make anyone uncomfortable. If anything, maybe she seemed proud? He wasn’t sure as he quickly began the sketch with the already-present graphite and ratty sketchbook. He’d need to get a new one soon.
The crimson quickly died away as he was absorbed into the planes of her existence and the shadows and light that danced across her form, hugging her in a complex mixture, just as her expression. Norma was a woman shrouded in mystery. There was more to her than she presented to the public, as socially conscientious as she was, it would be difficult to ever get to see the deeper layers. It wasn’t Grian’s job to pick at them, and could be considered rude. Not a word escaped his lips as he continued. Once he reached a point that she could move, he nodded and pulled graphite from paper.
"You can move, if you want. I’ve got basic points and light references down."