roman—harrison:

Tune me out. Everyone else does, you should take a few tips out of my wife’s book. Or out of my Doctor’s book. Either one, really. If not, then just take my word for it that you won’t be rid of my babbling while you’re in the same zip code, let alone speaking to me directly. 

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I’m the best and I’m currently unavailable as a lawyer unless its a special little exception. But… Wait…

You are protecting her…? You can do that but Tim can’t. More to add to the fire.

Thank you. It’s not really anything you’ll accept because you did it on your own but thank you for protecting her. Are you the one that got her lessons to fight? Cause she punched Emrys in the face and it left a real good mark on the kid, I was actually more impressed than alarmed. 

Uncle… ish. Tim Todd is her ‘father figure’ and I say that as loosely as I can considering how much of him you see around her life. You can hardly get him out of her place, right? Have to kick him out? That’s sarcasm. 

She’s family. I really don’t give a shit about blood anymore, blood is for people who are insecure and have to use it to feel important. Blood is thicker than water but I always felt that water was better at keeping people healthy. Blood can be found at any bank and hospital and costs too fucking much.

What do you think I’ve been doing, Mr. Harrison? Selective hearing is a handy tool, don’t you think?

She punched someone and didn’t tell me about it? Why, seems like I need a word with her. I got her in contact with my old trainer in return for a favor he still owed me; just like you, he is the best in what he does. 

Timothy Todd holds as much interest to me as a tub filled with dirty dish water; the only thing you want to do with it is pour it into the sewers. Eloquent, love. Did you know, though, that the original phrase went “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”? It wouldn’t be the first saying which meaning got twisted through time. I happen to like blood quite a bit, though perhaps not in the way you meant it. 

But family is indeed what you make of it. 

Hm. You’d know of a person called Meg as well, then, yeah?

If You Want Blood | Aria (Ella) & Connor

ariaella-mckinnon:

It was a good thing Aria’s husband was on a business trip. With him around, it was much more difficult to regain control — he was living up to his bloody last name — being a goddamn hawk every time. It was suffocating to say the least and without her “pillar” Aria was much more susceptible. She had missed the energy underneath her skin. She had missed flexing her muscles, feeling the sheathed knives strapped against her skin. And despite her disdain towards the Hawkins toddler, Ella knew having the domestic helper around for the night was needed. 

The text to Connor was sent an hour ago. 

Ella had gotten ready without much fuss. She had prepped for this coming day way ahead. All she needed to do was to drive to where she had wanted Connor to meet her and they’d be on the way. She had taken note of their target’s whereabouts — in his home in Camden, all alone with no one to lookout for him. His so-called family had left for a holiday or some sort. Ella didn’t care, all she knew was it was easier to strike now. A smile spread across her face. Knowing Connor, he wouldn’t be late even for a second.

She rolled the window as her car slowed down. “Get in loser, we’re going hunting.” She flashed him a playful grin, unlocking the trunk for him to load his stuff. She waited patiently, checking herself in the mirror before Connor slid next to her. Flicking her teal eyes to his compliment, Ella arched an eyebrow and shrugged.  No one should know this car was given to her by the very man she despise. “I see you’ve brought along your toys,” she remarked, keeping her eyes on the road. There was something in his eyes that told Ella, Connor is hungrier for this than her. Odd. 

"His name is…." Ella started before rolling her eyes. "Ah who the fuck cares what his fucking name. Just call him Rattie. You remember Mad Eyes? One of his accomplices. I’ve been tracking him down for the past two months until I found out he had changed his name and "turned his life around". Pathetic fool thinks he can get away with anything. Which is why we’ll be his welcome home party." A sly smirk had hooked onto her lips as she drove faster, beating a red light. "It’ll be a fantastic surprise."

Connor rolled his eyes at the reference, settling into the seat more comfortably. “Of course I did. I do as the lady asks,” He smirked at that, eyes shining with a dark sort of amusement. It had been days - no weeks - since he’d felt at least approaching normal, the voices in his head quiet for once. If he ignored studying the flashes he sometimes got in the corner of his eyes, of a man in a white coat or another with a hat, no one would have to be the wiser; certainly not Ella. As good a partner in crime as she was, Connor did not trust her as far as he could throw her. 

"I could hardly forget Mad Eyes. Hard to forget a person when you’ve seen deep beneath their skin." His fingers beat out a rhythm on the window parting. Somehow, he itched for a smoke - something he hadn’t felt since his return. Like alcohol these days, it was something Connor tried to avoid; he’d had enough tampering done to his senses. 

"Same MO as Mad Eyes, I assume?" Perhaps a bit of flaying was in order, after all. There was something almost deliciously intimate about peeling back someone’s skin, showing the tissue underneath. As far as surprises went, that one would certainly be a kicker. "I’m sure he’ll be very grateful of your approval to him trying to better his ways, Ella. What better gift than showing the past never truly goes away? I feel it’s a lesson everyone should learn." It was one he had learned, those past months. 

The woman drove the car with practised confidence, straddling the speed limit more often than not. London gave away to smaller looking towns and little parks; a smirk curled his lips as he recognized the one he’d once left Lancaster in to fend for himself, dressed in nothing but hospital scrubs. “Does this new life of his include family?”

tagged → #paras #aria mckinnon

roman—harrison:

And I took a sedative. You’re lucky I didn’t stand on this chair and sing the sweet sounds of Frank Sinatra to you in poor key. 

I don’t want to think about what she went through. It’s bullshit. You tell someone that they have to be around to help and they say they will be but you know its bullshit. It has to be bullshit, look at the line of work I chose. I’m a lawyer. I can smell bullshit. Actually, I think I’ve produced at least 98% of it.

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Roman Harrison. Owner of Towers Law Firm. Don’t really have to say it considering you know my last name. I was starting to think people really didn’t know who I was after what happened with Dreyfuss and his fuck ups. 

I’m Evie’s Uncle. More like Father… Connor Stage. Sounds like a dramatic name. But, all the world’s a stage, yeah? 

You kidding me, love? Sinatra is literally all I have on my iPod, truly. Off key or not, it would’ve probably sounded sweeter than your babbling. 

Like I said, whether calling her was the right thing to do is another discussion entirely. Though I tend to agree; strong or not, she deserves a break. 

It pays for a criminal to know who could get them out when push comes to shove, Mr. Harrison. You are the best in this business. Besides, Evie dropped your name from time to time; I remember. My memory might be shite, but I do remember that.

And all the men and women are merely players, that’s right. I feel, being a mercenary, you’re allowed a dramatic name. It sticks. I do have a couple less dramatic ones, though. Evie’s uncle? I’m … Let’s just say she’s under my protection.

roman—harrison:

I was drunk and depressed and overpowered by a ginger who was shorter than me. She had a van and then I was put in detox afterwards. If that’s happening to him then I really hope they slap him a few times to get shit through his skull. Really, I mean, how hard is it to use a gun. I gave him a gun. I gave him a lot. …Did I ever give him his green card. ….

I digress…

They called Evie… No offense, but if someone is grieving and then gets a phone call about my kidnapping I would be thinking they would panic and be in as bad condition as me.

I take it back, I’m thinking as if it would be me doing this. It’s Aleks. 

You see, I keep thinking I should get a new assistant but he’s the only one that I know will stick around. That, and I honestly don’t really see me wanting anyone else knowing my business. He’s family. He’s dating my brother—well—sort of brother. I call him my brother. He’s a moose—fuck.

Chris… Fuck… fuck, has anyone spoken to Ti— Oh… Tim you little… Is this apart of being Commissioner? No? Fuck you, Bilbo.  

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…. Sorry. Uh. Right, you’re a face I don’t really remember seeing. Odd, really. I know almost every face here in London. Maybe it’s the meds getting to me finally… You are?

Mate, that wasn’t an invitation for you to lay down your life story. I don’t care why you got kidnapped. Though the ginger doing the kidnapping sounds vaguely familiar. 

Did you use a gun when you go— no, actually. I really don’t care. 

Evelyn Reid survived waterboarding, being used as a knife sharpener, betrayal and the death of a loved one. If anyone is strong enough to handle that sort of shite, it would be her; whether it was the right thing to do is another point, of course. Most people don’t think clearly in stressful situations.

Aleks? Russian? 

Figures.

Do you now? Seems to me I’m doing my job right then. You’re not supposed to know me unless you need me for a specific job. Stage. Connor Stage. And you’re… Harrison? 

roman—harrison:

Just take a sedative and relax, Roman. It’s going to be fine, Roman. Fine, my ass. Everyone is being retarded. Who the hell gets kidnapped?? Wasn’t that the fad of last year? Like, it ended when I got kidnapped? Then other people got kidnapped. Then everyone was apart of some stupid ….fucking… shit. 

The sad part is, I know all of this because I’m the damn lawyer people come to when they pull stupid shit. My assistant is kidnapped and… hold the phone…

He called Evie. 

Who the fuck calls Evie instead of the cops? 

I love her to death, but oh my god I need to paste a fucking list of numbers to call in case of emergency to his clothes. 

…I don’t need a sedative, I need to get rid of the idiots in my life… But then I’d have no one.

Minus my wife and good women that I cannot insult for fear that I may lose my life…

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Who the hell gets kidnapped? You, apparently. If what I’m hearing is correct. You know, some say knowing yourself is the first step to true wisdom, so perhaps you can look into the mirror and ask yourself that question. Might give you better results than shouting it into the world at large. Most likely no one cares anyway.

Perhaps they thought Evie was safe. She does inspire that sort of feeling, if we’re talking about the same person. Or, perhaps they thought that due to her connections to the coppers, she could do more help than getting in contact with them directly would. The police in this city doesn’t do shite most of the time. Too dumb to see a clue if it dances right in front of their faces naked.

Time to get different friends?

badass-vakarian:

please let sebastian stan play a psycho murderer in a horror because of reasons.

tagged → #me
tagged → #me
tagged → #me #man dem legs
Track Title: Say Something

Artist: Pentatonix

Album: Say Something

azarath:

Pentatonix | Say Something

tagged → #man #music #a bit ooc but