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Post by Ciaran O'Malley on Dec 5, 2021 7:33:21 GMT
"I WANT TO BE THERE WHEN YOU GET WHAT'S COMING TO YOU." Ciaran O'Malley growls in the face of Ezra Huntington. His arms are already cuffed behind him, but he's so fucking angry. How does he get caught out of the group of them that were fighting? It was like Hunt had it fucking out for him. What was so special about him, huh? There were others fighting. It wasn't the first time he was targeted by the bow street running. Slade'll get him out of this, naturally -- Reuben wouldn't leave him behind. Right? So he grins, mouth bloody as he stands before the officer. The rage is sickly and evil, radiating from deep inside him. "I want to watch them rip you to shreds. You and your honor. Do you feel high and fucking mighty?" He steps into Hunt's face, unafraid of him. "I can't wait for those dogs out there to tear you to pieces. . . and watch you scream in horror." He growls, akin to a dog himself, rabid and dangerous. "An' then you'll wish you were good to me." And then. . . he spits in his face. Tagging: Ezra HuntingtonNotes: Oopsie!
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Post by Ciaran O'Malley on Dec 5, 2021 7:16:42 GMT
13; BLINDED TEMPORARILY.Something had been thrown in his eyes. There'd been a stand off between Slade's group and one of a neighboring crime lord's posse. Ciaran and two other enforcers were confronted with a few enemies of the rival mob. A fought broke out among them, and there had been a bottle smashed -- it's content spread into the air right in front of his face. He started coughing, and fuck it made his eyes burn. Ciaran stumbles back into the brick wall in the alley; he hears the sound of footsteps running away, and then he feels two pairs of hands pulling him up. "You all right?" "Oy, stay with us!""I can't see," he wheezes out. "I can't fucking see -- --" He chokes, coughing a few more times. They get him into a warehouse and clean him up. After drinking some ale, his throat felt better, but his eyes are effectively swollen shut. Ciaran rubs a hand over his mouth as he sits on a table. He doesn't know what this means. If he can't see, his life's fucking over. He's going to kill those fuckers. How dare they attack him like that? It was playing fucking dirty. "Boss is here," someone calls out at the back of the room. Ciaran turns his head in the direction of footsteps, breathing a little heavily. He's still affected by the bottle's contents. It could have been gun power or pepper -- or something worse. " M'all right," Ciaran calls out. He knows he probably looks bad. It is bad. Tag: Reuben Slade
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Post by Ciaran O'Malley on Dec 5, 2021 7:06:54 GMT
"IT APPEARS YOU WILL LIVE." Ciaran groans as the cane moves his face. He looks up at the nobleman through half-closed eyes. Leave it to a noble to see this and humiliate him further. He scoffs, sitting back up, scooting back until his back touches one of those poles they tie boats to. He doesn't know what to say, so he spits blood to the side and rubs the back of his hand over his bloody mouth. "Yeah, seems fuckin' like it." He grumbles in his thick Belfast accent. "What's it to ya?"And when he looks back up at the fancily dressed man, he sees a pristine handkerchief being offered in his direction. What is this? Ciaran squints at it, considering. If he takes it, what does this mean? Does he have to kiss this man's shoes or whatever the rich folk wanted? Fuck that. But what if this something else? He doesn't know the nobleman; he doesn't care to know. He just knows the king doesn't give a fuck about the people dying in the streets. So what's the monarchy and they're stupid society to him? They won't put bread on his mum's table. . . But there's something about this guy's eyes that makes Ciaran feel like he isn't just some freak show to this guy. He purses his bloody lips together. "Thanks," he finally settles on, reaching for it. He wipes at the blood across his face and then tries again to stand up. It takes some leaning against the pole, but he finally gets to his feet. Ciaran puts a hand on his bruising side and holds up the handkerchief in the other. "Figure you don't want this back, yeah, considering the blood. Heh. Bet this piece o'cloth costs more than me monthly wages." Tagging: Reuben Slade
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Post by Ciaran O'Malley on Dec 5, 2021 6:56:50 GMT
"CALM DOWN, WON'T YOU? S'A PONCY PARTY." One of the other's says with a cigarette between his teeth. They're playing cards, but Ciaran's been distracted all night with Reuben out of his sights. Yes, it was a fancy party, but that didn't mean Slade was safe! "I should be there," he says with a scowl, shifting in his seat. "I don't think they'll be lookin' out for him in the same way I would.""Wot, do ye fancy him, christ!" "Say that again!" Ciaran growls, out of his seat and throwing back the offending enforcer -- Donovan? Danny? Who fucking cared what his name was; he's new to the group. The Irishman has him by the neck, glaring into those eyes. After a moment of silence, the helpless guy stammers: "T'was just a fucking joke, Ciaran. Fuck." And Ciaran lets him go -- and then socks him in the stomach. "Don't fucking joke like that." He hisses, rubbing his hand over his knuckles. He turns back to the table, and the game resumes without delay. Violence was quick way to settle quarrels, and they knew not to pick a true fight with Ciaran. As the hours pass, the discomfort builds in his stomach. He's gone through a few cigarettes and a few pints of ale. "He's gone too long," he murmurs, glancing behind him out of the window, hoping to see the carriage pulling up. It's almost like Ciaran willed it to happen, because it comes into few -- with quick steps of the horses. He's up out of his chair already, hurrying to the hallway -- -- Ciaran freezes as he sees Reuben's current state -- bloodied and bruised. His mouth opens and then closes, and he watches him go. He's a range of emotions: worried, scared, and angry. He turns to the driver who runs in after him. "The fuck does he look like that?" and he's grabbing the guy's jacket, who just yells out: "I don't fuckin' know, mate! He was jumped, and I saw him and got to him!" The answer doesn't satisfy him; he needs to know what happened. HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!
Ciaran goes up the steps after his employer, and then he finds himself pausing in front of the door. He grimaces. Should he bother Slade? But fucking hell, all that blood. . . He knocks hurriedly. "Slade? Boss? Fuck, you all right? Can I come in there?" Tagging: Reuben Slade
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Post by Ciaran O'Malley on Dec 1, 2021 2:35:25 GMT
CIARAN THROWS A PUNCH. It lands across his attacker's face and knocks him back a few steps. The Irishman breathes harshly, blood dripping down from his nose. He staggers on his feet, legs trembling. How did this fight even start? He doesn't remember. Something was said in his direction, and he saw red. He's always getting into trouble. His poor mam has had to deal with this his whole life. Ciaran doesn't believe he's anything else than trouble at this point. He's young and dumb and belligerent. "Go back home!" One of the guys shouts at him. "No one likes a paddy!" Ciaran roars out a yell and hurries toward him. He throws a punch, but the guy dodges. The next thing he feels is a fist to his gut. Ciaran gags, the wind knocked out of him. Another punch whacks across his face, and now he's down. There's feet and hands hitting him, over and over, until he's coughing up blood and curling up. He feels hands in his pockets, and then one of the fuckers spits on him. They laugh as they leave him there. He groans, trying to get up, head spinning. Ciaran spits out blood to the side and manages to sit up. "Son of a. . ." He murmurs under his breath, rubbing a hand over his bloody mouth. His mam's going to have another fit -- especially since he lost all the money he earned that day. One of these days, he'll get his money back. He'll find them. He'll -- He goes to stand, and his ribs ache. He's not going anywhere for a while. Ciaran groans and just lets himself fall back on the cobblestone, defeated. Tagging: Reuben Slade
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Post by Ciaran O'Malley on Nov 30, 2021 22:45:27 GMT
| ~ • ~ | Character Basics | ~ • ~ |
.:Name:. Ciaran O'Malley (Pronounced: Kieran) .:Nick Name:. Ciar (Pronounced: Kier), The Boogeyman .:Rank:. Lower Class .:Age:. 26
| ~ • ~ | Appearance | ~ • ~ |
.:Physical Appearance:. Ciaran is an unkempt man; he doesn’t keep his thick beard and hair all oiled up like the nobleman or even the middle-class man. He prefers the natural look. He’s poor, and his clothes show it - holes, looser fitting, inexpensive fabric, hand-made by his siblings, hand-me-downs from his father. Ciaran has an athletic build but isn’t too muscular. He stands just under six-feet tall. Ciaran also has some scars - one on his eyebrow, and a few from fights across his body. In spite of all of his roughness, he has almost a romantic look to him. If someone cleaned him up, he could be the dark and mysterious man from a gothic novel. .:Height:. 5’11 .:Portrayed by:. Jamie Dornan (think him in Death and Nightingales but 10 years younger)
| ~ • ~ | Personality | ~ • ~ |
.:Personality:. Ciaran is as rough as he looks. He has a gruff voice and a heavy Irish accent. He’s tough, prone to anger, and can be violent. In a fight, he holds his own well (and that’s only gotten better as time goes on). Ciaran is very protective of his family and his boss. He is definitely a “guard dog” for them. His bite and his bark are both big, so be careful. . . Ciaran does have a sweet side that he keeps buried down; he hasn’t had the chance to really be gentle. He’s always kind to anyone he’s dating (both men and women, gasp!); he doesn’t want to be his father (even though he takes after him in most other ways). He also has a crush on his boss, Reuben Slade. .:Skills:. Good with his hands; fighting; intimidation .:Weaknesses:. Soft spot for his loved ones; his mouth can get him into trouble
| ~ • ~ | History | ~ • ~ |
.:Birthplace:. Whiteabbey, Ireland .:Family:. Conal O’Malley (father, deceased); Sinead O’Malley (neé Lynch, mother, 46) Saoirse Conrad (neé O’Malley, older sister, 28); William “Billy” Conrad (brother-in-law, 30); Elizabeth “Lizzy” Conrad (niece, 8); Niall Conrad (nephew, 6) Tiernan O’Malley (younger brother, 19), Siobhan O’Malley (younger sister, 16), Seamus O’Malley (younger brother, 10) .:Occupation:. Dock Worker (cover); Enforcer for Slade .:History:.
cw: mentions of domestic and child abuse, violence Note: Reuben Slade used with Euphoria’s permission!
Ciaran is the second child of Conal and Sinead O’Malley. He was born in the coastal town of Whiteabbey, where his father worked at the docks. Conal first worked in Whiteabbey and then went to Belfast for better pay, but it was hard to support his growing family. Ciaran went to work with the local blacksmith when he was only twelve, but he had a knack for getting into trouble without his father around. (And when his father was around, he hated it more.) He took after his father in that he found himself working at the docks to support his mother and siblings best, while Saoirse cleaned the local merchant’s houses. Finally, when Ciaran was sixteen, his father got a job in London. The whole family with newborn Seamus got on a boat and left Ireland, never to look back. Out of his four siblings, he and Saoirse remember Ireland best.
London was dark and dreary - a big city that had nothing to offer him. The Brits would make fun of his accent and bully him for being Irish. Quickly, Ciaran would get into fights and was known as Conal’s troubled son. He had no direction in life. He didn’t even know what could be offered to him. All he knew were his dirty hands from working with the boats all day with his father.
Conal had an accident when Ciaran had just turned twenty. Or so the family says it was an accident, anyway. Conal came home drunk as a skunk one night and started beating on Sinead. Tired of the abuse he and his family had taken at the hands of his father, Ciaran fought back. He pushed him. . . but he didn’t realize how hard he’d pushed. Conal broke through the window and fell to the street four stories below. The police wrote it off as an accident; they didn’t really care about the O’Malleys anyway to investigate further.
With the patriarch gone and his older sister married, Ciaran became the main provider of money for his family. Tiernan was too young to work at the time, but Ciaran encouraged his younger brother to find a trade that would help him move his way up in the world. Tiernan took to clocks from an early age (and Ciaran gave him their father’s old pocket watch), and by the age of sixteen was an apprentice for a clocksmith. Meanwhile, Ciaran still worked at the docks, spending long days working with all of the imports and exports.
He was still prone to getting into fights, and one day when he was twenty-two, he got into a tussle with three men about something or other (if you’d asked Ciaran, he wouldn’t remember how the fight started). Ciar tried to take on all three at once and held his own, but ultimately was beaten bloody and had his money stolen. While he was lying on the ground, Reuben Slade approached him. Slade had seen the whole thing transpire and offered him a job, impressed by his prowess and passion. The man gave him a life worth living. Later that night, Slade asked Ciaran to come down by the docks; the three men were dead. . . and being carted off in a small ship. A symbolic gesture that cemented Ciaran’s faith in this man. No one had ever gone out of their way for Ciaran before.
Reuben Slade won his trust and devotion (and love), and Ciaran became his muscle. For the last four years, Ciaran has barely left the man’s side.
| ~ • ~ | Member Info | ~ • ~ |
.:Name or Online Alias:. Bunny .:Your Pronouns:. .:Are you 18+:. .:How Did You Find Us:. This is my second character!
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