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Under no circumstances should minors attempt to
interact in any way. This account will features extremely heavy & traumatic themes &/or imagery, as well as topics & discussions that are in no way suited for children or those under 18.
In short, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT..Rule #2. Shipping & chemistry of any form or manner is earned & built. Additionally, no shipping shall ever be possible with accounts whose portrayals or characters are not of adult age. Shipping or the formation of any consistent dynamic between muses or characters is a privilege reserved purely for willing & consenting adults..Rule #3. Writing interest is not owed, similar to responses or the willingness to write with other accounts as a whole. I will always retain the right to engage with whomever I please, & to deny or ignore whomever I would like. Should offense be taken to this stance, or to a rejection, I do apologize, but firmly encourage your efforts be taken elsewhere..Rule #4. I retain the right to block, mute, &/or ignore whomever I should choose for any reason whatsoever. As stated in the prior rule, should offense be taken, I encourage a path in the opposite direction of myself.

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.҂ NAME. +++ UNAVAILABLE.҂ ALIAS. +++ Lykos / Lee.҂ AGE. +++ 25YO / ADULT [VARIES ACCORDING TO TIMELINE].҂ GENDER. +++ MALE.҂ PRONOUNS. +++ HE/HIM.҂ SPECIES. +++ HUMAN.҂ HEIGHT. +++ 6' 3".҂ PARENTS. +++ UNKNOWN.҂ BIRTHPLACE. +++ UNKNOWN

.҂ LOCATION. +++ UNKNOWN.҂ OCCUPATION. +++ REDACTED.҂ FLUENT TONGUE. +++ ENGLISH.҂ CURRENT RESIDENCE. +++ N/A.҂ FEATURES. +++ LARGE SCAR ON LEFT CHEEK/LIP / BLACK HAIR / BLACK EYES

lPenned by Donny
He/Him / Adult Admin
Herein is an independent portrayal of an original character sewn together for the Death Note universe.====================================================
CONTENT WARNING, TRIGGERING THEMES AHEAD
====================================================They never wanted me.An infant runt, discarded by mother & father alike.
Blistering cold & stinging rain pelted a raggedy sack, barely sheltering the poor child it clung to. By some grace, a child not yet capable of words was granted an answered prayer, a set of hands reached forth from the doorway of this ramshackle house, & pulled the forsaken newborn within.For the old woman occupying the home that barely held itself together, this child came as both blessing & curse. A spark of joy & life amidst the decay & rot of her life. A hungry, exuberant mouth to feed on what had already been an insufficient supply of both food & funds.
As they say, life finds a way.The boy seemed to grow like a weed to the aging woman, sustained only by the good faith & assistance of herself & her fellow church members. In exchange, the child had become something of an emblem of their local congregation, each felt a partial stake in this boy's life & with it, an unspoken responsibility.Time seemed to pass easily this way, proper communion & community working to raise up the least of themselves.
The boy has managed to survive five years after the injustice wrought upon him by his earthly makers.

However, it seemed the cruel hand of fate had not yet finished its cold caress of this child's cheek.A mere eight years after the desolation of the boy dubbed Lykos did fate come knocking at his doorstep.
A disoriented shaking eye peering out from behind the door of a floor cupboard. Two men, the woman that had grown into his caretaker, their small kitchen in shambles, shouting. "Mother" falling. More shouting. Men taking what little they had. "Mother" not moving.
Panic. Small hands throwing open the cupboard & clinging to the crumpled frame of his caretaker.
Larger hands wrenching him away. Thrown. Falling. _Darkness.When the boy awoke, their shack of a home was near unrecognizable.
Visual senses & balance impaired by the throbbing pulsating his cranium, stumbling to his feet & feeling for a wall to prop against. A few minutes of regaining his footing granted him a glimpse of what had been wrought upon him.
The only life ever know to the boy left tattered & ruined. The woman he had dubbed Mother, lay motionless & limp.
Outside, a blindly array of reds & blues flashed like beacons through the sole window of the home, & the door that lay open & half-hinged. People clad in black, bulky clothing swarmed the scene in the next moment. He was swept up into the arms of a man estranged to him & clad in a blanket once outside & stood upon the pavement before the shell of a home.For a while, Time seemed to pass the poor boy by. A dozen or so bodies melting into a blur around him as he stared at the second chance he was unknowingly bestowed be ripped away from him.
In the end, Marla Estine, colloquially dubbed "Old M", had been declared deceased at the scene of the robbery, it appeared complications from her injuries & the shock of the events inflicted a cardiac arrest that took her frail, but full, life. Neighbors reported shouting coming from the home, something reminiscent of woeful cries. Police & outside investigators linked this battery & robbery to a string of recent crimes perpetrated in the same method & intention. The boy, with no formal documentation or records, was given to the Social Services system, & placed within a series of foster homes & orphanages.The coming years wore the boy ragged & aged him impartial to his actual age. He sought isolation in every instance he was placed in. No foster home held the proper patience & environment to grant him the safety he once knew, no orphanage possessed walls or boundaries strong or intuitive enough to hold true against his attempts at liberation.
Time after time, eventually he was picked up by local law enforcement, & resubmitted to the system. Running up his record, & depleting the list of available willing donors, earned him a spot at Roaming Rangers.
An institution formulated around the rehabilitation of young men & boys that found themselves bereft of any capacity for adapting to modern, domestic life."Proper education ensures a proper life."In typical fashion, all smiles & warm handshakes upon arrival, but the fangs of the Rangers waited nary a second sinking into the boy.
The headmasters were cruel, their favored pupils even crueler. Newcomers were made endure tireless punishment for any slight or minor shortcoming, no matter how frivolous. Especially difficult Rangers were made to endure a different moniker.
Mongrel.
There existed a section of cellar space below the main hall of the institution reserved only for these very special young men.
Once a collar was placed upon you, it did not come off.Lykos was rebranded to Lee, the headmasters dubbed him unbecoming of a name so revered & endowed with meaning.
His tendency to crave isolation & his knack for rebellion quickly earned him a place among the Mongrels.His new quarters made the prison cell of his old bedroom comparable to a presidential suite.
His new mattress became damp, moldy straw, his room a cage of iron bars. He was to sleep amidst the mangy, malnourished mutts kept within this hidden cesspit.
It seems that the nastier staff, as if they could get nastier, hosted an underground dog fighting ring beneath the institutions main hall at night on certain days of the week. The boys assigned "Mongrels" were either used as unwilling participants, or rewards for hungry mouths of gnashing teeth.It was here, that unfortunate Lee learned the grit buried in his bones. He persevered in the face of all, but the torment began twisting what little empathy remained guarded within his heart & mind. It wasnt often that Mongrels were picked to participate or be participated in the dog matches, but just enough to keep the handful of boys trapped down there a firm, constant reminder of the fate in store for them.
All & all, Lee managed to survive to until age 12 before his first gladiatorial match-up came.
A grey-blue pitbull, one he was unfamiliar wish. Lee's gazed pleaded for reason, for a stroke of emotion in the dog's eyes. The mutt only returned a look of hunger-induced disdain, & a rage brought one by the near-constant abuse of its human handled.
Blood was spilled, teeth sunk into nutrition-starved flesh, earned the boy a reward of stitches up the left side of his face & cheek upon his blood-soaked triumph, if one could even call it that.Given the living conditions, the wound would never truly heal, & became prone to infection. After the injury & the subsequent need to clean & dress the wound, Lee became an undesirable choice among the headmasters & staff. While their interest faded, Lee's hatred & malice never did.
He swore vengeance.The day of his thirteenth birthday, Lee prepared to lay down his life in an attempt to liberate himself. A single, vigilant eye had engrained the routines of the staff into his very heartbeat, he knew the only moment that would grant any possibility of escape, & rehearsed it like drawing breath.
Afternoon feeding time, the scraps of bread & meat that came delivered on a tray onto to be thrown to the ground as his cage door was opened, but this afforded him his chance.
He threw himself into the woman delivering his food, sunk bony fingers into her eyes & clawed with all the strength his skeletal frame could muster. The commotion drew the attention of the dogs & other boys in cages, the collective of which began yelling & barking out. But it was too late, Lee had gouged the woman's eyes from their solitary place in their sockets, & devoted his entire life force to pumping his legs until he had propelled himself from the cellar, through the front door, & down the pathway to the main gate. Naturally, the staff that witnessed his attempt gave chase, desperate to keep their sin coveted.
But it would be in vain, the malnourishment gave Lee's body a frail enough frame & figure that he just barely squeezed himself between the wrought iron bars of the main gate, & threw himself shrieking into the street.The "Institution" was cleaned out of occupants by the end of the day. The news made national headline."Rehabilitation home turned torture house in shocking revelation as 13 year old boy breaks free."
"Roaming Ranger survivor adopted by local Fire Department Chief Williams."Williams was a good man. Lee felt a reminder of the woman who cared for him as an infant in Williams.
Needless to say, it took years for Lee to ever warm up to Williams in any capacity, but unlike his failed foster predecessors, Williams understood.The name never wore off. The scar across the left side of his face never truly mended.
He never truly left the cage.
Sometimes he still wakes up there, cold & damp.
Maybe theyre right^{Can't teach an old dog new tricks.}Lee would be called to stand trial against his former captors. The trail was broadcasted on an international level after the global response to the crimes.
Just after his fourteenth birthday, the boy had barely recovered & began showing signs of proper nourishment. None of it stopped him from shaking like a leaf while perched on the stand, face-to-face with his former headmasters.Strangely enough, however, the trail would be cut short.
One by one, the wretched degenerates that tormented him all those years had their eyes fill with terror one last time as they gazed upon Lee.
_{Then dropped dead of a heart attack.}Another dose of shock to the poor boy's system, & the one thing that kept him clinging to life yanked away. Even his teenage mind was quick to understand, his fleeting chance at revenge had just been snuffed out.
Lee became despondent, proceeding the trail. Williams did what we could, tried what he might, but nothing brought the boy back into reality for approximately ten months following the trial.Upon his fifteenth birthday, Lee would approach Williams, & tell him that we wanted to became a detective, or whatever title he need be to pursue the suffering he'd gone through."Quite the tall order & mindset for a fifteen year old, dont you think?""I have no purpose, sir. Please.""Alright, alright. It wont be easy, dont see I didnt want you, Lee."From then on, Williams would utilize the resources available to him as a fire department chief to connect with local law enforcement, & supply Lee with the necessities he would need & what routes to travel.Lee would leave his adoptive home just after his eighteenth birthday, his return visits were scarce & unannounced. He vowed to Williams that he would complete his agency work & schooling, or he'd gladly lay down his life as forfeit. Williams, in typical Williams fashion, returned only a soft smile, a chuckle, & a pat on the shoulder as he saw his boy off.===================================================