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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years

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Red Right Hand III

—

It had been a quiet afternoon thus far, with only a few off-shift workers passing through for a pint. A few even stayed for a laugh if they needed their spirits lifted or a bit of banter if they’d already lifted their own.

Joanna found the fortnight since she had taken the position had fallen into a similar routine. Quiet days where by sometimes the front room would be empty and others filled with a rotating shift of Visyak’s and accomplices, followed by long nights that would either be spent singing when there were no Shadows in sight or pouring heady beers and adding new bottles to the cubby hole when there were.

She found that if she tilted her head just right, she could hear the quiet conversations she shouldn’t be listening in on during the daytime hours. She could recognise the cool, commanding tones of the eldest, the crude, cocky remarks of the middle and the soft, raspy comments of the youngest. She could hear who knew what, and who knew nothing, and who knew what others knew. She could hear everything just right, and often had found herself ducking quickly below the bar’s surface or taking several fast steps to avoid being caught in her observations as the sound of footsteps approached the door, cubby or the front breeze doors of the pub would push open.

That morning she’d been leaning near the cubby hole, head tilted as she listened in on the talk about her beautiful horses performance that last weekend, winning by a length again. Aisling Fhiáin had been her favourite of the latest breeding, the animals spirit and desire to break free had spoken to her so clearly; but sacrifices had to be made, and her beast had to be sacrificed for the greater good. However it had smarted to hear the horrible name the gangsters had come up with for her darling. And the seemingly dreadful rider restricting the horse’s own passion, she bit down a snort at the thought that left to it’s own devices it could out pace the rest of the pack without being held back by some second-rate jockey.

As she polished the glass in her hand, she heard the front breeze doors push open roughly and jerking away from the cubby she practically flung herself towards the other end of the bar as the internal doors were shoved open with just as much force; followed immediately by the same again.

“Get ‘im boys!” “Sneaking, feral bastard!-” “Where are those fucking Shadow ponces-” “-We’re goin’ to rip your throat out you snivelling, worthless little dog!” “STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

The scream from the first person through the door, dark brown curls on his head drenched and blood from his lip clinging to his scruff sent a chill along her spine, as Joanna turned to view the group of men before her. The first was scrambling along the floor as if trying to put as much distance between them and him; while the four others called venomously out.

“Stad láithreach! Get away from him and get out of my bar, ‘fore I fuckin’ throw ya out meself!” Joanna barely recognised her own voice, shouting loudly as she made her way out from behind the bar’s far end, cloth and glass still in hand. She couldn’t explain how she found herself standing infront of the downed man, feet planted firmly and hand holding the cloth fisted at her side ready to throw a fist at the next man to step forward, she couldn’t explain why she was there, why she was interfereing other than it was the right thing to do.

“Oh look, the pup’s got a defender -” “See here, missy, you best be steppin’ aside and not gettin’ involved in stuff above your pay grade.” “- Maybe we see if she can actually make us move, boys.” “Sounds like a good plan, Alastair - you going to cramp our fun, Crowley?”

The three men - she surpressed a shudder at the dark grin on the tallest identified as Alastair as he seemed to loom forward a little over the other two; a shorter dark haired Scot called Crowley by the third, who merely gave an almost as disturbing grin at her - paused momentarially in their pursuit as they surveyed her. Whoever they were, they hadn’t entered The Fort in the last two weeks. She’d heard the name Crowley once or twice in her eavesdropping when the talk had turned to the Black Eyes Gang, and that she’d thrown herself between yet another gang of angry men and their quarry would have made her knees shake if she was little Beth Murphy and not Joanna Harvelle.

The tallest of the three, Alastair, took a step forward towards her, arm reaching for her’s, with that horrifying grin still upon his face. “Come on, daisy girl, lets get you out of the way before you do something stupid to get yourself hurt.” Next second, the grin was off of his face as the glass from her hand smashed into shoulder, and the world seemed to tilt for her.

Off balance, Joanna struggled to tug herself from the grip on her arm with a shout and kick before the hard lip of the bar crushed against her ribs. There was a hand on the back of her head, caught in her hair, and another pressing her chest into the top of the bar that she couldn’t shake off.

“You filthy, little whore! You’ll pay for that.” The words were hissed near her ear as she was pulled backwards before being shoved into the bar again, the pain of her teeth catching and splitting her lip where it had only barely healed from the impact into the ground from being thrown by her beautiful horse three weeks ago. “I’ll make you scream so loud you’ll forget what silence is for this.”

“Alastair, leave it be. We’ve got other fish to fry.” “Exactly. Azazel, get that mutt off the floor.”

The sound of the other men talking, the third finally being given a name - one that she would store away beside that of the man digging his fingers into her back for revenge one day - distracted her momentarially from the pain, long enough to kick back at the knees of her captor and wrench away with a swirl of skirts. Clothed fist back up, Joanna had trouble projecting the confidence she had originally as she shuffled backwards towards the whimpering dark haired man on the floor.

“Oi! What’re you bastards up to out here? This is our turf, and you’re overstepping the rules, boys.”

At the sound of Michael Visyak’s voice, she felt a wave of relief pour over her panicked anger like water over a fire. She could just see over the hulking shoulder of Alastair the trio of brothers as well as her employer Harry had emerged from the front room at the noise.

“We just chased your lil’ puppy dog back to the kennel is all, Michael. Thought you’d appreciate getting him back mostly in one piece.” The sneer from the shortest of the Black Eyes Gang group, alongside his cocky tone, flickered at Joanna’s temper.

However his words reminded her of the man below her feet, and rather than try to interfere further, she moved down to help him now that the situation seemed to be under control. His hands were pressed to either side of his head, squeezing tightly as if to trap something in or stop something from entering she couldn’t tell. The shake of his shoulders and murmuring about noise reminded her of the few gypsy boys who had returned from the war with nothing but the dropping shells in their ears.

“You’ve seen to it, and now you can leave now.” “What about his entering our turf? What of his stabbing one of our boys down on Clarey Lane? What of that?” “If that’s true, we’ll see to it. You tell Lilith to keep your boys in line, we’ll keep ours in line.”

Joanna paid no mind to the bartering back and forth between sides as she knelt beside the shaking man. She pressed her polishing cloth against his still bleeding mouth and tried to sound as soothing as possible, as if he were a scared filly about to go to the breeding stocks for the first time or one of the drovers when they’d twist their foot in a rabbit hole and were due to face down a barrel soon enough. Soothing noises, gentle touches and calming tones.

“What about the barmaid?” “What the fuck of the barmaid?” “She fuckin’ attacked one of my men.” “That little thing attacked one of you, huh? And you want to prove your boys are weaker than a little girl by doing something about it?”

The sound of feet approaching didn’t distract her, neither did the topic of conversation. Thankfully no other patrons had been in the bar but the brothers at the time, and the blonde couldn’t help but wonder what the shaking man before her had done to get in such shape. Nor to instill enough rage for three rival gangsters to enter the almost sacred location of The Fort in the Shadows territory. She didn’t hear the discussion change to her, before trailing off and the three other men leaving with furious remarks that this wouldn’t be the end of the discussion. That ‘mark their words’. That ‘they better never see that mutt again’. That ‘or that whore barmaid’.

“Beth… Beth… Beth?” “Beth!”

It took the hand on her shoulder to shake her focus, brown eyes looking up into blue far closer than they should have been. She should have heard the younger brother approaching, she should have hear Harry squat down on her other side to help the weeping man. She should have heard her supposed name - though at least she thought she could play off not recognising the name for shock, as she blinked rapidly back at the vaguely nonplussed face.

“Uh… They… They chased ‘im in. I… I couldn’t..” She stumbled over the words as Jackson held onto her empty hand, the one that she’d used to shatter a glass into a rival of his, and helped her to her feet. Joanna blinked in surprise at the looks she was receiving before dropping her gaze to the floor and swiping at the blood on her mouth and chin. “Bloody gan chnámh droma cowards, the lot of ‘em. Pickin’ on someun all alone! Couldn’t even do a fair fight, hadda go three to one! If I coulda fuckin’ reached his bloody face wit’ that glass I would! Oh what horrible people! Stupid tall fuck!” The blonde managed to work herself up more and more, reflecting upon the brief tussle and mentally berating herself for letting the foul man get a hold of her, as she looked around at the surprised faces of the assembled men.

“Well, that was an impressive tirade there, barmaid. Very impressive response too.” “You sure you’re not carrying a cock under those skirts?” “Jeffrey. Not appropriate.” “Just appreciating the fight. Could have done throwing a few fists myself.” “Not now, Jeffrey, until we get to the bottom of this with Amon.”

The other two brothers talked back and forth ignoring her once she finished, moving forwards to help the struggling man to his feet. Richard “The Wolf” Amon had once been a strong and fierce fighter almost on par with the ferocity of Jeffrey Visyak, and a strong enforcer for the Shadows as well as being the best of friends with the youngest Visyak. However, after the war, his brain had muddled with the sound of shells and horrors of the mindless death and killing that he’d barely returned to society as a man than a crying babe. However his loyalty in his lucid moments was as unwavering to Jackson and his brothers as it had ever been.

That he’d been caught in the Black Eyes territory and possibly entered one of his fugue states of terror and blood was not a comforting thought to their plans of taking on the group soon enough. Neither was the requirement for repayment likely to be anything other than the with the blood of the shorter curly haired man-child. The Wolf had returned from the war a pup, and the shaking of his shoulders as the adrenaline died down left him looking like a hollow shell of what he could have been.

As Harry busied himself with getting a cloth for the other men, Joanna raised a brow at the shivering man before her attention was drawn back to the one in front of her with a hiss. Jackson’s thumb was stroking her lip, and if she hadn’t covered her cheeks with powder that morning she was sure she’d be as red as her tacky blood on his digit. “Oww, don’t… don’t touch it.”

“Just checking that nothings damaged. Wouldn’t do to have a broken barmaid. Wouldn’t look respectable.” “Its fine.” “What, no quick come backs now, Beth?” “Sorry ta disappoint.” “If you’d managed to get that bastard’s face, I’d have said well done.” “Maybe next time I’ll get ‘im straight in it then.” “Next time you won’t have to.”

The conversation flowed quickly as Joanna breathed out sharply as the other held the cleanest corner of her cloth to her lip, trying to fight off the flush at being able to be a little bit of her own self again. It was hard to stay Beth sometimes around the pushing and combative snark of the man in front of her. The last week had found her trying to push at him to see the dullness leave his eyes for the slight sparkle of amusement she saw now; though she didn’t know what to make of the concerned look on his face as he wiped at her lip.

“If you two are done,” The voice behind the bar made her jerk, turning her head from the other to see her employer giving the pair of them a peculiar look, “Beth, the brooms out the back for the glass.”

“Yessir!” Joanna bit back a groan at the interruption before rushing out the back to collect the broom. Leaning against the door to catch her breath, she let out a silent hiss again at her stupidity, at getting involved, at getting too close. At the relief that had flooded her hearing her gangster’s voices, and then again at thinking of them as such. She thumped her head back with a sigh, eyes closing as she focussed again on why she was there and not on the feel of fingerpad on lip. By the time she had returned to the main room, all four Shadows had sequestered themselves away again and Harry was flitting about, keeping a firm eye on her. No more chances to listen in for the day.

—

“What in the name of the Holy Mother happened yesterday?” The unusually colourful cry from their mother when they arrived for the family meeting that morning greeted the brothers unexpectedly. Clearly someone had already mentioned the events of the previous day to her, and the old dame’s temper was much harder to calm when woken up. “Is this what you

children

plan to bring upon us all?!”

“No Ma-” “Course not. This wasn’t planned.” “-We’ve got a handle on it now.”

“A handle on it?” Green eyes flashed as she took each of her boys faces. Jeffrey speaking up first seemed frustrated as he poured his drink that morning, most likely smarting at not having gotten in on the action. Michael, her calm, responsible clear headed son seemed unimpressed with the turn of events - clearly he had intended to clean up the issue without her involvement nor awareness. Jackson seemed the only one truly impacted by the attack. Though that may have been his closeness with the Amon boy, or possibly the guilt at failing the boy back in the war, she couldn’t rightly tell but at least he kept his eyes down and mouth shut at her questions. “If you boys have forgotten, I built this company in four years into its place without the level of destruction you’ve achieved in just two!”

“Nobody has forgotten, Ma. You and your copper connections cleaning up the streets. Chasing those Black Eyes back to the west with their tails betwixt their legs.” “Then how is it those Black Eyes dared to step foot in our Fort?” “Amon had a slip supposedly. Something over in the west end, you know he ain’t well.” “If he ain’t well, why is he still with you boys? Why do you insist on dragging this family into the darkness you brought back?” “That’s uncalled for.” “Really? I heard they roughed up that girl too. What if that’d been your sister, huh?” “Shads wouldn’t-” “What if it was her? What if your sister had been there!”

Eleanor and Michael fired back and forth, neither having touched the breakfast on the table between them all. This might have been a family meeting with all the traditions of tea and toast and bacon in the good times, but without the youngest two Visyak’s in attendance it was clear this was not a typical family breakfast. Eleanor found herself growing hoarse and shrill trying to drive her point home, to see some show of respect, understanding or remorse from the other.

“Shada’d never have stepped between them and Amon.” Her youngest spoke for the first time, eyes still closed and fists tight on the table before he stood sharply to stare her back down. Eleanor had always thought that while her eldest had height to intimidate, her middle with a psychotic glee at pain, that her youngest was the loose cannon with darkness behind the eyes. And staring him down she found herself sinking down into her seat. “She’s not brave or stupid enough. Shada would have hid behind that bar and done nothing while those bimbos would have torn my friend apart, because in the end she’s your daughter and lacks the vision and balls to drive this organisation where it needs to go.”

A tense silence filled the room as neither brother moved to discredit the younger or defend their mother from the diatribe. As much loathing as there was between most of them, there was nothing to be said.

“I’ve got to go check on Amon’s end to the story. Jeffrey, you’ve got rounds tonight, and Michael… Talk some sense into her.” It wasn’t often that Jackson delivered the directives of the morning, typically that would be Michael or Eleanor herself, but without waiting for a either to correct him, he swept out of the house with a slam of the door through to the business side of the house.

There was a second before the remaining dark haired son stood up, tossing back the last of his tea and whisky combo before giving a sardonic salute to the others, heading out after his brother.

“A handle on it, aye Michael? Got it all under control? Is that what you call under control?”

“It’s his mate, Ma-”

“True, but this is just the start of what his grand ideas and your blind ambition is going to rue on this family!”

“Perhaps. But we

are

ready for this.”

—

The sound of horses feet thundering along the stretch as the crowd gasped ad hollered covered the sound of boots in mud behind the stands. The rush of men swarming through the back of the viewing stands towards the bookies tents, hands gripping tightly on various blunt weapons or knives. Matching dark coats billowed behind the twenty gangsters that moved towards their targets.

The fall boys with their bookie stamps and bags of coin slung over their shoulders were already counting out the takings and the winnings for the punters outside; the outcome already known even as the race had yet to finish. The Shadows had ensured their white beauty would be back in fine form that day after the shattering loss the previous week - and those inside knew better than to question them since their interference began. That and the three Shadows men standing together at the back of the tent, cigarettes lit, the protection ring still well in place.

At the tick of the hour, striking the midday hour the gang of men moved as one. With a deep cry, the twenty men swarmed the space, batons slipped into hands and hit carelessly into the closest few workers from the front line while the remaining poured in giving the odd slash of a blade or bash of a cane. The three Shadows jerked from their positions against the tentside, guns drawn and knives held in the off hand as they faced down the other gangsters with grim determination.

It was a quick and bloody few minutes, knives cutting through cloth and flesh alike, gun shots hitting into arms, torsos and heads. There were cries and shouts, in fear and in anger. Blood splattered onto bank notes and betting tickets alike, as those without weapons cowered or stood firm; and those with their hands filled moved hard and fast to take on each side. And then as quick as they’d arrived, the handful of remaining black coated men swarmed back out of the tent, leaving behind three unconcious Shadows and several injured bet takers.

Across the city, men in black cloaks swept through the lower end of the city dispatching ‘justice’ as they went. Every odd warehouse, whorehouse, Chinese laundry and business that paid the Faceless Shadows for protection found their doors bashed in, their papers burnt and products destroyed. Their staff roughed up and bloodied. Their carefully paid for safety torn to pieces before the hour was done.

The same type of men, matching black coats and dark grins, swarmed the empty pub at the same tick of the hour. The Fort was filled with darkness as bottles were smashed, chairs broken, mirrors cracked and message gouged into the copper bar surface - Blood for blood…

—

There were only eight mourners at the graveside that foggy morning. The burial had been completed and the rights read all in the cold early light, before the minister had left the crowd to their reflection.

Only three of those assembled truly felt any remorse or pain over the loss. The three friends, the tall blond who’d seperated from the group to follow a more respectable life yet still stayed on the families side and the shorter black haired barman, stood to the side with their friend who’s eyes blazed with the desire for vengence.

The other five were simply paying their respects as it was - father’s hand on son’s shoulder, mother’s arms wrapped about daughter’s.

It had been a grey morning three days earlier when the curly-haired man had faced down Michael’s pistol.

The mists coming off of the water had swirled around the pair that morning. The younger man had sunk to his knees upon the realisation of what was to come, that shortly his brains would be as muddled on the outside as it was on the outside. Brown curly hair would be tacky with blood and grey matter, and the pain of the last six years would be over. His terror and despair would finally be at rest.

Michael had urged him to his feet again, to die standing like a man. And to hold onto his prayers when he was ready to face God.

The echo of the gunshot had rang out across the water.

When the body had dropped into a passing barge under the watchful eyes of Crowley and Alastair from the opposite bank. When the blood shed necessary to repay the debt of life had been concluded.

The three Visyak’s that knew of it in their little party understood why it had to be the way it was, but that didn't stop the pain of separation from the friend and ally any easier.

The two women held back tears that were as much for the puppy-faced boy the man had once been as it was for what the death symbolised. War was on the horizon again, and neither woman could be sure who would come out the other side of the trenches this time, nor what condition they would be.

—

#AU stories #peakyverse fic

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247krp · 7 years

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— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Im Jaebum, spotted prancing about in the Southwest Side. I remember seeing him with The Outsiders back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say confident and pompous? Apparently now he spends time as an inspector at Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, and keeps skeletons buried at Geumsang Apartment Complex, A104. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, The Rebel; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

Jae never really fit in anywhere. He wasn’t weird or anything, he just enjoyed speaking his mind. He was a scholarship student in High School so that alone was enough of a reason for people to outcast him. It didn’t really bother him at all. He met a few friends in Highschool, people referred to them as the outsiders, how fitting. The group had its leaders but if the two weren’t so busy snogging each other all the time, jae might have actually not have to pretend he liked them. He never intended to be two-faced, but he couldn’t help it. The rest of the group were pretty tone down, and jae genuinely enjoyed hanging with them.

Of course, his high school life didn’t just slide by, Jae enjoyed creating drama, giving the rich kids something to talk about. He wasn’t just going to sit there and let them mock him. Not after hearing the things they’d say. He would always be the one putting up a fight or starting a fight with either one or all of the privileged kids. He was pretty well known for that.

Because of his feisty character, word spread quickly about the rebel. The poor admired him and the rich tried to get rid of him. But of course, he was never one who was easy to rid of, he had dirt on almost half the school, even the headmaster, which gave him an upper hand. He had his eyes and ears everywhere.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

When he finally graduated, he didn’t know what was next. He was given the opportunity to join med school but dropped out after realizing the only doctors they need in korea were plastic surgeons.

Instead, for a year, he had worked part time jobs at convenience stores, with an average pay of $6.50 per hour and $7.00 on weekends. He stayed in a one room apartment in a shabby street. He didn’t know what he was doing with his life, but one day, a friend and him sat down in front of the tv. Like a sign, the movie that was being screened that night was Rush Hour 2.

He went and took a risk, joining the police academy. He thought this was it, his big break. But a week into his journey, he finds himself being cornered to clean the briefs of his senior with his own toothbrush. When he graduated the police academy, he was the top of his batch He started off doing paperwork of his seniors, files after files of complaints from the residence living in the area. His big break only came when he helped his senior solve a case. Going out to the field was a completely different experience for him. It was thrilling yet he was scared shitless, the hours he spent behind his textbook didn’t help at all when it came to the real life scenario.

Jae was given a promotion right after his first year for saving his senior from getting shot. After that yea, things began to look bright for him, he was assigned to cases that were big scale investigations. With word from his higher-up s that favor him, promotions were never an issue for Jae.

Five years down the road, jae isn’t the same old police officer, he’s now an inspector who spends more time going through the goods in his lavish apartment with the criminals rather than arresting them.

Your friendly neighborhood corrupt cop is here.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

Jae was brought up in a proper family who put moral values above anything else. His parents were selfless middle waged workers who couldn’t afford to raise another child, thus him being the one and only child. Jae loved his parents a lot, they were his motivation to do well, so when he gets the opportunity to attend the prestigious high school for free, he jumped at the chance, thinking his studying finally paid off. Turns out what he sees in the phamplet and what he experiences were two completely different scenarios. If you didn’t walk around with a golden spoon stuck in your ass, you didn’t deserve to look at anyone in the eyes. That was the rule. At first, Jae listened, he never did do anything, when his seniors told him to fetch them food, he would. He’d follow them around like a dog, but the benefits of it would be knowing what they’re always talking about. But when he enters his second year, his parents got into a tragic accident which made him loose both of them in an instant. It was a terrible year for jae.

One day he overheard someone talking shit about his deceased parents and he lost it. He got into a fight for the first time in his life and got pretty bruised, but of course he wasn’t the only one. The other party’s parents came down, demanding for him to be expelled, but staying quiet for a year gave him leverage on the boy. In less than a day, the issue was dropped and Jae got away with what he did.

Jae had dirt on almost half of the school’s population, and he knew how to work his way around them, of course, he only uses this leverage when he needs to.

This was the beginning of his rebellious streak against the rich society.

#247: accepted

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purpleravenwhitesuit · 7 years

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20 FOLLOWERS I’D LIKE TO GET TO KNOW BETTER!

Rules: Tag 20 followers you want to get to know better (im skipping this part)

Tagged by: @darklordtomarry

Name: n/a I’m ehh about my legal name

Nickname: sounds like Moon Moon, and no one calls me that except my family (not not call me this)

Gender: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Star Sign: Aries

Height: 5 foot 1 in (and i hate being short, rip)

Sexual Orientation: Bi (I use to say demi, ace or ace spectrum bi but now i just say bi because i no longer find those labels useful)

Hogwarts House: I’m a Ravenclaw with Slytherin inclinations too :0

Favorite Colour: Blue

Favorite Animal: Cats

Time Right Now: noon

Average hours of sleep: 7 hours

Cat or Dog Person: Cats so much. All i can think about is they are quiet and well-behaved compared to dogs.

once in elementary school i went to a classmate’s house to do a group project and she had 4 black cats(!) the ~bad luck in the house should have been absurd but we got a good grade on the project and when i did the work at her house it was basically me on the laptop typing while one of the cats sat on the warm battery charger, another watched us from across the room and one of them sometimes brushed past my feet. i felt calm and peaceful in their company, and i think about this memory from time to time and how much i like cats.

Favorite Fictional Characters: (so much is me listing heroes and their villains lmao)

Harry Potter, Tom Riddle|Voldemort; Integra Hellsing, Alucard; Aerith, Sephiroth (really the entire cast of FF7, er, not the compilation peeps); Zhan Zhao, Bai Yutong; Kikyo, Naraku*; Ikari Shinji, Nagisa Kaworu; Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy**; Xiaolongnv, Yang Guo; Rock Lee, Gaara; Shisui Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha; Marko, Alana (Saga); Ishtar(Vampire Game) Duzell; Gimli, Legolas; Terra Branford, Celes Chere; Kuchiki Rukia, Kurosaki Ichigo;

Also here are some trio favs: Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Lex Luthor; Senju Hashirama, Uzumaki Mito, Uchiha Madara; Erik (Phantom of the Opera), Christine Daae, Raoul de Chagny (actually the entire cast too but especially Meg Giry, The Persian and Madam Giry); Linghu Chong, Dongfang Bubai, Ren Yingying; Greed, Ling, Lanfan; Ahiru, Fakir, Mytho Rue(Princess Tutu Quartet);

And more:

Monkey King; Loki (many versions not just MCU); Kain Highwind; Ninth Doctor; Medicine Seller (Mononoke); Ulquiorra; Sai (Naruto); Koro-sensei; Satoshi Hiwatari; Alphonse Elric; Suigintou; Sesshomaru; Thorin Oakenshield; Shadow (American Gods); Artemis Fowl; The Baudelaire Orphans; Katniss; Tiffany Aching; Silas (The Graveyard Book); Sabriel, Catwoman,

Fairytale faves: Lindworm; Koschei; Beast; & I need to stop now because I will just go on and on (more than I already have…)

*Tomarry|Harrymort isn’t even my worst hero/villain who totally ruined their lives and everyone’s lives ship (gasp). That’s probably Naraku/Kikyo. The parallels between the two are actually stunning and I could easily write an at minimum 1,000 word meta if I tried.

**warning ship hate (skip crossed out parts if you don’t wanna read): i actually do not like this ship much bc so much of the popular stuff is hetero shit where it’s not even really them but ooc het archtypes, idk how to describe it except its like Christian Grey and Anna stuff S&M stuff projected. and i’ve enjoyed fic before where i know two chars arent really that way and im reading fanon or “it is them in name only” fic, but not so with these two. I have yet to see an IC fic that can convince me this works

Number of Blankets I sleep With: One

Favorite Singer/Band: (I have so much and i’m practically listing the bands that show up in my mixes.)

Arctic Monkeys, Hozier, Rufus Wainwright, Franz Ferdinand, Sufjan Stevens, Bastille, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, IAMX, Depeche Mode, Breaking Benjamin, Fleet Foxes, twenty one pilots, Stars

Rihanna, Celtic Woman, Imogen Heap, Florence + the Machine, Ellie Goulding, Taylor Swift, Demi Lovato, Carly Rae Jepsen, Laura Marling, Sia, St. Vincent, Vienna Teng, Regina Spektor, Halsey, Lana del Rey, Marina & the Diamonds

Dream Trip: I went to Taiwan for like a week in college for winter break/winter study abroad and now I really miss their night markets. I want to be back for a longer stay, with hella money, and have my family be with me too.

Dream Job: yea same to being a heir

When was this blog created: November 2016

Current Number of Followers: 6

When did your blog reach its peak?: lol

What made you decide to make a tumblr: For this one I wanted a place to make a post about my alutegra fanmix. Except now i’ve added a bunch of fanmxies since, related to tomarry or mystic messenger and other stuff. Now this place is looking to be tomarry|harrymort hell and writing stuff in the long term.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #darklordtomarry #tag meme #long post

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