it's always your eyes that pull me under.

tara fitzgerald, london

[tarafitzgerald]

Name: Tara Vivianne Fitzgerald Nicknames: / Gender/Pronouns: Cis-female, Her/Hers Age: 35 Birthday: September 3rd, 1987 Hometown: London, UK Neighborhood: Soho Occupation: MI5 detective Gang affiliation: The Jabberwocks - the high priestess Sexuality: Heterosexual Languages spoken: English, German, Italian Positive traits: ambitious, charismatic, loyal, fearless Negative traits: impatient, stubborn, arrogant

The streets of London were her playground.. well, they had been up until she was six years old. It was a couple of days after Tara's birthday her family had to move from the posh London's Belgravia.. first to Berlin, then to New York. See, Tara's father John James Fitzgerald was working for the United Nations and it was due to his career Tara had been all around the world - from Australia to Argentina. With his diplomatic background and career, it was only a matter of time when he would have to start working at UN's headquarters in New York. However, considering her parents didn't quite believe in the quality of American education, Tara was sent back to England when she was thirteen years old.. with her governess, not her parents. What kind of Fitzgeralds would have they been if they had left their careers and their position in the New York society?

Moving back to London wasn't quite easy - living in the way too big Belgravia house with no one but her governess, a chef, and a maid or two, was utterly boring.. just as school was boring. Well, it was boring until she met the boy who was anything but an ordinary boy. He didn't even go to her school, but didn't mind waiting for her in front of it everyday. He even introduced her to his friends.. and very soon she became more fond of his friends than him. It didn't matter she was just fourteen and she was always the youngest of all of them - just as it didn't matter she was a girl. Tara had finally learned how it felt to belong to something.. The Jabberwocks' became her home and her family.

Yet it was evident that she was more than just another member of the gang. With her family's background, she had connections and she had money.. all of it could be used for the gang's benefits. Thanks to her paternal great grandfather, both of her grandfathers, her father.. Tara got into Oxford. Getting in was easy, getting out.. there were far more interesting things to do in life than studying, but it was her job to get that degree and put it to a good use.

And so she did. To the outrage of her parents, instead of marrying rich and taking her role in the high society, the loyal member of the Jabberwocks' became an MI5 detective. Some said it was the first step towards the MI6, but it was the first step to her role of playing another sort of an agent - the double agent. And she was so good at it that there were times when she was not even recognizing herself anymore, but the high priestess - as they called her, was fearless and would do anything and everything for the family she had chosen for herself when she was merely fourteen years old. Her life was in the constant danger, but what was she if not dangerous herself? Sipping chaos wherever she went, Tara Fitzgerald was one of the most powerful weapons the gang had.. day to day, this angel look-alike beauty is crossing her family's enemies off the list, to make them them rue the day they dared to even think of crossing the Jabberwocks.

Headcanons:

she loves sneaking up on people - you can never see or feel her coming

the fact she is one of the Jabberwocks isn't known outside of her gang, and even more so, many people in the gang doesn't know it

doesn't do love so her love life consists of hook-ups, flings & one night stands

has insomnia, but can barely function without coffee

hates talking about her parents & her family in general

has travelled all around the world, but her favorite continents by far are Africa and South America

loves Krav Maga and Jiu-Jiutsu

drives Aprilia RSV4 bike

[dantecoltrane]

Ding

It had to be her. The mobile phone was glued to his hand, left an impression from how long it had been held, a callus forming in the pad of his palm from how many times it twisted around in wait. It twisted once more, screen up, lit up and dashing across Dante's face. Nothing. No. He heard that. He knew better. His thumb swiped at it, wild animal that's been taught one trick for the zoo, pouncing through the screens, closing them out, reopening, refreshing, reviewing, flicking off a speck of ash from the cigarette that dangled above by the edge of his lips with revolt.

Good morning

And no reply? It was noon.

Dante's cigarette was snatched away from his mouth, twirled between fingers, the smoke weaving through him. Once upon a time he hated the smell. Hated everything about it. Hated how it made his lungs feel like they were on fire. The cough that always lingered. But she liked it. The burning tip smashed into his thumb, baptizing the thin layer of skin that had covered over the old too familiar with the ritual.

SMASH

Good morning flickered, cracks formed from the impact against a brick wall, now lying helpless in the alleyway. Dante's breath was taken, siphoned out of him, a grey mist expelling his boiling point. For a moment, his mind cleared. He needed that, even if it was witnessed by another… a type of company that was unplanned for.

"I'm sorry about that…" he began, kneeling down to pick up the pieces. "I really have the worst luck..." Second burner this month.

Ding

Eyes glanced up, hovering up at the person for a moment before offering a breath of a laugh. "You wouldn't mind if I could borrow yours for a moment?"

[tarafitzgerald]

With her arms crossed over her chest, the long haired brunette threw the man a rather disgusted look. "Pathetic." With her one shoulder leaning against the brick wall that was just hit by the phone, her eyes traveled from Dante who was on his knees to the shattered pieces of the phone and back onto him. "No, you can't," returning a small smile as she heard his question colored with laugh, Tara walked over to where the phone was laying wondering for a moment what was the reason behind the whole scene. "What, they didn't text you back? Oh, boo hoo." Tara stood with her left boot on the remains of the phone as her eyes were still fixated on Dante who was still trying to pick up the pieces. "Do I have to say again how pathetic this is or will you stand up, Dante? You will get laid later.. I need you to do something for me."

[thetowerr]

WHEN&WHERE: 11:11pm, Some dive bar -ish pub that’s not One Man’s Trash because Boone doesn’t want to get jumped.  WHO: Open to all!

He was in a pub, sipping on a brewski, scrolling through his phone becoming a victim to the void.  This was how Boone Hannigan unwound after a day of hard work.

After a job was completed, the man often found himself too full of adrenaline just to go home. He needed something to take the edge off, a beer usually did the trick. If one didn’t then he tried a second. Then a third. Fourth. Fifth. So on and so forth. Sometimes, when he found himself in an establishment like this one, he’d be chatty. Despite the neck tattoo, Boone could be a friendly guy and strike up a conversation with anyone who’d bite. Sometimes, it was an old barfly, they’d shoot the shit and Boone would wonder if he was getting a glimpse into his future. Other times, it would be a pretty, little thing and Boone would wonder something similar. 

However, tonight was not one of those nights.

Boone was not looking to make friends of any kind. All he wanted was to sit at the bar, drink his beers, like a couple thirst traps on Instagram, chain smoke half a pack and then go the fuck home.

Just as easy as Boone could make a friend, he could make an enemy. When the empty seat beside him was claimed with eager hands, when the stool squeaked as it was being dragged away, Boone’s head shifted towards them. He barely looked at the fellow patron, in fact, he didn’t at all. His eyes were still glued to his phone, his fingers double tapping the screen, and a heart appeared  in between a pair of tits. 

Even so, Boone couldn’t help but be an asshole. 

“Yo,” he began, “You’re not gonna ask if its taken?”

[tarafitzgerald]

As she pulled the chair out for herself and took a seat, Tara rolled her eyes as she heard him speak -typical. "Come on, Booney, you won't deny me of enjoying your rather cheerful company? After all, am I not the only person who actually enjoys it? By the way, is Instagram now a new Tinder or is it the old one?" The brunette grinned as she pulled the bowl of peanuts closer to herself immediately grabbing a couple and popping them into her mouth. "I'll have.." her eyes falling down to what he was drinking as the waitress came to pick up her order.. "Not a beer for sure," sighing, Tara gave it some more thought if only to make the waitress even more impatient.. "a vodka tonic - make it a double one, and get him another beer. Or do you want something else, Boone?" Putting her phone on the sticky surface the table was covered in, she took in her surroundings. As typical, it was a dive bar full of drunks.. just the way she liked it. Boone was one of the rare people in the gang who were aware of her double agent role, but even more so, one of the rare people she actually considered a friend. And sometimes it was hard to see him in the ordinary or more pleasant places.

[feralvesselsarch-deactivated202]

tarafitzgerald​:

starter: @calebdraper location: high gate cemetery

A rather small smile escaped her upon noticing a familiar tall silhouette standing in front of the entrance to the Circle of Lebanon.. what were the odds? But then again - was it really so simple as a matter of fate? A barely heard chuckle escaped her as the smile vanished from her features.. there was no such thing as fate - we were the masters of it. Certain he had not heard her as it was one of her silence to be wrapped up in the silence, Tara took a couple of steps closer to the man. “What is this,” speaking in a low voice as if not to wake up those who could not be awoken, “have I caught Mr. Draper off guard?” The corners of her lips had slowly risen up.

-

Caleb had stooped low many times in his life, actively choosing the worst possible option in some situations and even in his marriage, which ended years ago, he'd still chosen to ruin what could have been something good. Something real. But, was Caleb a literal grave robber? Would he stoop that low? Hell no. Apparently, he had lines that he would not cross and stealing from the dead was one of them. However, Highgate Cemetary was not your average cemetery but something which the city had turned into a tourist attraction. A little tacky if you asked Caleb. Yet here he was, strolling through, mixing in with the guided tours and with a quick slip of his hand, so quick it was easily missed, he was stealing from the living. Those lines were more like dashes with gaps between them where he was supposed to slip right through. 

Caleb had walked away from the guided tour, the inner pocket of his jacket filled with a couple more wallets than anyone should have. About to reach in and pull one out to check his bounty he paused, lips pressed into a thin line as he wondered if he had just been caught, but the man spun on his heel to find it was none other than :  "Tara Fitzgerald." her name rolled off his tongue as if pleasantly surprised to see her. "Not at all." - She had but he would not let that be known. As was their cat-and-mouse-like dance, two people circling each other and trying to catch the other out and yet never getting close enough to reveal each of their deep, dark, dirty secrets. As he removed his empty hand from his jacket the wallets remained safely tucked away inside he started patting down his other pockets until he found the crumpled packet of cigarettes and plucked one out. That was one little secret that would remain undiscovered today. "Smoke?" he asked, holding the packet towards her.

[tarafitzgerald]

Her eyes fell down to his pockets, briefly smirking upon the sight not doubting for a second of what he was in fact doing here. What a bad boy, wasn't he? In her thoughts, she chuckled upon the thought but walked a bit closer to take a cigarette. "What is this, have you come here to spend some quality time with the only people who can bare your presence, Caleb?" Her words drawn into the mix of sarcasm and teasing, she brought the cigarette between her lips as she waited for him to take out the lighter. Out of all places to find him at the graveyard.. it was a just a step closer towards the place they would call their own day - as if the devil would let them call it theirs. When was the exact time she had accepted the end of her path? Perhaps she was yearning for it.. desperate to break out of the chains of the life that was meant to be hers. Who would have thought that a Belgravia born and raised girl would become a part of the gang? Oh well. "I'd say you should buy me a drink, but I don't think the dead like to share, do they?" The brunette asked as she exhaled the smoke walking a bit away from Caleb. She never liked having someone behind her back.. well, there were some exceptions, naturally - and Caleb knew them quite well.. "It's so peaceful.. almost as if you're not in London." If you didn't count the number of tourists outside of the Circle of Lebanon.. which she didn't. It was a good thing to have a badge. It was dangerous to go in at the moment, or at least something along those lines was what she had said to them before she left them behind her. "So what the two of us are doing in such a peaceful place, huh?" A smile gracing her features she turned around to face the man.

[tarafitzgerald]

starter for: @dcvth location: the rabbit hole

She could feel the eyes on her back probably wondering what was she doing there on her own. Rare were the ones who knew of her ties to the Jabberwocks and it wasn't bewildering that many questioned the nature of her visits. "I've been wondering when you will appear," ever so slightly she rose up the corner of her lips, "boss," the latter she said so quietly that practically even Theodore himself could barely hear it. But that was the whole point, wasn't it? To live her life in between the good and bad.. to play the role so effortlessly no ever doubted she was the true agent of good. "You should hire a new bartender. This one makes a horrible White Russian," saying loud enough so the man behind her barely drinkable cocktail could hear her, "but also," her eyes traveled from the drink in her hands to her boss, "you wanted to see me. I'm listening."

[tarafitzgerald]

starter: @calebdraper location: high gate cemetery

A rather small smile escaped her upon noticing a familiar tall silhouette standing in front of the entrance to the Circle of Lebanon.. what were the odds? But then again - was it really so simple as a matter of fate? A barely heard chuckle escaped her as the smile vanished from her features.. there was no such thing as fate - we were the masters of it. Certain he had not heard her as it was one of her silence to be wrapped up in the silence, Tara took a couple of steps closer to the man. "What is this," speaking in a low voice as if not to wake up those who could not be awoken, "have I caught Mr. Draper off guard?" The corners of her lips had slowly risen up.

[meghansfox]

Megan Fox by Greg Williams for Esquire (2009)