there is something so incomprehensibly flattering about getting asks about your OCs. Like— someone, somewhere, somehow was so interested in this person you made up that they took a whole minute out of their day to inquire about some random, mundane aspect of their life and that’s beautiful to me
Over the hills and far away || Sebastian & Tyson
"Heh, well, you’re right. You didn’t eat a bite for breakfast. Not even those biscuits Jasmine brought you." Sebastian had noticed Tyson pack them away rather than eating one just then, but he hadn’t thought to comment on it until now.
He shrugged slightly, still watching Tyson watch the rest of the world. “Eh, nowhere in the airport, I don’t think. That’s no fun. Pick any spot you see on our way to our hotel room that looks good. Somewhere you will actually eat something.” He smirked playfully.
When the plane landed and began to de-board, Sebastian grabbed both of their bags and lead the way out, wasting no time in getting Tyson off the plane and handing him his own bag, since he knew he’d want to carry it. He wrapped his arm around the other’s waist, then headed for the exit.
This airport was much smaller than the one they’d flown out of in London, but it was still a bit crowded- as airports always tended to be- so he kept Tyson close to his side the whole way through, even as they stepped outside and into a cab bound for their hotel, right on the water. A place called ‘Çırağan Palace’ according to the information Jim had given them. And a suite, too. The ‘Sultan Suite’. Maybe the madman wasn’t angry with them after all. Or maybe he was up to his usual tricks. Sebastian never could be sure anymore.
As the plane began to descend, he pulled his boots back on. Once in the cab, Tyson was a child in a candy store; looking every direction, trying to take in everything at once. Everything was so new and Tyson couldn’t get enough of these fresh mental maps. Even his fear of vehicles couldn’t contain his excitement.
Usually Tyson liked to stay in his hotel room to collect himself before work began. Today, however, the second they stepped inside he looked ready to bolt from their suite at a moment’s notice and never look back. The Sultan Suite was open and spacious, and that terrified the former Lieutenant.
There was too much open space. That combined with the large numerous windows left Tyson feeling exposed. Vulnerable. He wanted to run away to a small corner and hide. Tyson preferred his usually small, contained, safe hotel rooms over the openness of the large suite rooms. Here there was nowhere for Tyson to hide himself.
Tyson put his bag down near the door and tugged Sebastian’s hand. “F-Food. Now. Come on, S-Sebastian,” said Tyson urgently. He wasn’t going to try and get out of eating now, he just wanted out of this room. Tyson wasn’t looking forward to having to work, and live, here.
my character is not a saint.
my character is not a saint.
my character can be a heartless bitch.
my character can be a flirt.
my character can be rude.
my character can be kind & warm.
my character can be hurt.
my character can be a cold blooded murderer.
my character can be sensitive if the situation allows it.
my character has feelings & is a person all on their own with both positive & negative characteristics. they are not perfect.
aka my character is not a saint.
stop asking me to change a certain reply because you think my character is being ‘rude’ & you don’t like it. stop asking me to change a reply that was written by me trying to be as in character as possible just because you don’t like my character being disrespectful or threatening yours. unless i’ve written something that you yourself take offense to, or something containing a trigger of yours & countless other personal reasons, DO NOT ask me to change a reply simply because you don’t like my character being mean to yours. if the situation calls for it, i’ll write it the way i imagine they would.
[[A handful of screenshots of Damien Molony as Jack Weston in series 2 of Suspects.]]
The best laid plans of Men and Mice || Jim & Tyson
How sweet it is for Tyson to think he needs to reassure Jim of anything. It almost brings a smile to his face, one that would clearly and undeniably be an open mockery, but he keeps his eyes closed and his mouth more or less slack. So far as mind games go, ending up in bed - or wherever this may yet lead - with a man as intriguing as Tyson is certainly a huge bonus, even if it had not been part of the original plan. Even if he were capable of feeling guilty, there would be no room from it here; Tyson seems every bit as ready and willing to go along with it, and Jim will not deny himself the physical gratification. He’s played this game as patiently as he is able, even during the tedious stretches, and he feels he deserves this.
"A compromise," he proposes, and now does allow a smile. One of his bashful ones, to accompany the playful lilt in his voice. "You’re free to correct my form, if you’re unsatisfied with the way I’m performing." Jim can be quite creative and dangerously ambitious, but he figures if he wants this to continue at least until he has blueprints in hand, it may be best to start simple. Something tells him that if his hands were to tighten round Tyson’s throat, the man would flee from him and never look back.
Having answered the question, his next kiss meets its mark, and he has to give credit to the idea that the longer one restrains oneself, the sweeter the reward in the end. The sensation of a simple kiss shouldn’t feel so gratifying to him, and yet it would seem he is more tightly wound than he had been aware of. He doesn’t want to risk stepping on anything important, and so he simply slumps backward against the window, grasping at Tyson’s shirt with both hands and tugging him along until they are pressed more closely together, Jim humming softly.
If, and hopefully when, this progressed further Tyson would shift his maps off the bed, out of harm’s way, and close one of the curtains; the one directly over the bed, rather than the one they were currently against. He could close this curtain too, but that would cut almost all light out of the room. Whilst he didn’t care either way if people could see up to the first floor when he was only kissing Jim, Tyson didn’t want to risk anyone seeing further than that. Tyson didn’t protest as Jim tugged him forwards and relished in their renewed closeness.
With Jim slumped against the window, Tyson couldn’t get his arms around the other man. So instead, he used his right forearm to brace himself against the - surprisingly cool, even through his jacket and shirt - glass of the window. His other hand continued to tenderly hold Jim’s side as his thumb resumed its slow stroking motions. The other man felt warm against his body and Tyson wanted to soak every inch of that feeling up, but he held himself back; kept his arm braced to stop himself completely melting against Jim. “Hmm. Well, y-you’re on fine form so far, Jim.”
Starving men don’t wolf down the first meal they’re offered, not straight away. Ones hunger needs to be sated with a coating of crumbs first, and Tyson knew this better than most. Once, twice, thrice in quick succession Tyson pressed small kisses against Jim’s lips. Then he leant in as though to give a fourth, before pulling back at the last moment. With an affectionate smile and soft chuckle, Tyson gave the fourth kiss a second later. Though he found it harder with men than with women, Tyson liked being playful. As far as Tyson knew at the moment, he was comfortable enough around Jim to be playful.