I GOTTA ONE WAY TICKET [CLOSED]

[THEOPHILUS ADAM SUGGITT]

one way ticket on a hell-bound train
nothing to lose and nothing to gain

Theophilus was in London for the weekend. He didn't want to be there. He wasn't some tourist that went there just for the fun of it. He would much rather have been back at his apartment in Oxford. He was needed in London though. He had to be there for a moment's notice call in case he, say, was needed for one of the documents being archived and worked on. It was times like this he hated his job. Normally, he actually rather enjoyed his profession. It allowed him time to be alone, away from people. Theo had never been a very sociable soul. He preferred to just be in the quiet. He liked to know that the area around him was sparse and that no one could sneak up on him. Well that was just one of the many reasons he liked to be alone. There was also the fact that he didn't trust anyone. There was never a reason to trust anyone. There was a reason why he hid away in his apartment, or in this case his hotel room. He sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair. Today wasn't a day when he got to hide away however. Today was a day when he had been dragged out to "socialize". If only his "colleagues" would just realize that Theophilus Suggitt socializing would happen after hell froze over, pigs flew, and the moon and sun rose in the west and set in the east...on the same day. Translation never.

He sat in one of the few areas worth sitting. Most of the people around him were dancing to the live music. It was too loud, too hard, and reverberated through his chest. He would have much preferred some Vivaldi or Mozart instead playing softly while he read through some historical account or another. Or even cleaning. God this place was filthy. It made his hands twitch with the need to clean it all. There was dust and grime on the counters. People were covered in sweat and smelled like some mixture of pheromones, sweat, and way too many obnoxious perfumes and colognes. Not to mention the strong aftershaves that any man old enough to shave was using. It was enough to make him sick. The thought was tempting. That way he would have a definite excuse to leave. The only problem was, then he would have to clean the disgusting mass up. He didn't want to do that. He had no interest in that. It was like he was screwed any way that he looked at it. He swore softly under his breath, displeased with the situation he was in. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

"Vodka," he ordered. He had to shout over the den of the loud music and voices all demanding one thing or another. Most wanted louder music. Some were trying to talk to friends. Others were probably trying to set up secret rendezvouses with lovers or just some random stranger they had met. He didn't care about any of them. They could all go to Heaven. He wanted Hell to himself if he had to be stuck in that place.

tag;; lovely tana with sexy caelum
words;; 543
outfit;; banner
notes;; eh, fail post >.>
lyrics;; What Do You Do? - Papa Roach
credit;; i.forgive.you @ CAUTION 2.0

[CAELUM JAMESON SQAURCIALUPI]

'' take your past and burn it up and let
'' it go , c a r r y on i'm s t r o n g e r than you'll ever know

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It wasn’t often that Caelum found himself in the streets of London, especially during the past few weeks. Work had been such a downer lately that anything that remotely pertained to social intercourse was lost on him. But then again, it wasn’t as if he had the mental ability to socialize, especially not after spending an entire week in Azkaban. Usually Caelum’s shifts weren’t this long, but with the actual efforts that the Ministry was making in bringing in Death Eaters, Caelum’s work load had intensified in a mere fortnight. The weight that resided ever so profoundly on his shoulders seemed much heavier now. His haunting thoughts, his most sinuous desires were forever dancing in the limelight in front of him and as deeply as he tried to block it out. He couldn’t. Dementors were nasty creatures, they had no exact preference when it came to its diet—and innocent or not, they spread eagle their misery—and Caelum couldn’t help but drown himself into the throes of their trap. Deep down—there was a part of him that wanted to stay in Azkaban forever, have the thoughts of Crucis drive him to complete and utter insanity—it would be better much better than facing the aftermath of the pain that filled the deep trenches of his heart. No speck of emotion showed on his face though—despite the fact that he was nearly breaking down inside, his face revealed nothing. All that could be gathered by looking at him—would be his odd clothing, which attracted many peering eyes of muggles. Caelum had too much pride to degrade himself into dressing like a muggle. As if fucking muggle men weren’t degrading enough, Caelum couldn’t afford to dress like them as well.

Looking terribly intimidating in his midnight blue dress robes and his ministry top hat, Caelum walked down the lone muggle streets of London, looking a bit worse for wear as he searched for his local pub. Usually it was filled with on the down-low muggle men—who were looking for a quick fix like Caelum—and really, the only thing on his mind tonight was intercourse. He literally had no energy to hold back any of his inner musings anymore. For the first time this week, Caelum wanted to completely get rid of every single passing thought on his mind and send all of his negative energy to another soulful willing body. He just wanted to bury himself deep into someone else—and for once let the carnal pleasure of sex—obliterate everything else that lingered in the wells of his mind. Caelum was tired—he had well worn bags under his eyes, his pallor looked paler than usual and it looked as if he had lost a significant amount of weight in very little time. That was all Azkaban’s doing of course, but even without Azkaban fucking up the last bit of his already miserable life, Caelum still retained that malnourished look about him. Maybe it was because of his complete lack of sleep—his strongly growing appetite for alcohol and of course—his newest bit of poison, sleeping potions; but whatever it was, Caelum had a feeling that the center of all his problems was his brother, but he didn’t want to even think of that. Not tonight.

Finally, as he reached the dimly lit deadpan street of the bar, Caelum, leaned his large frame against a nearby lamp post—wondering if he should really go in there. There was a small part of him that insanely regretted cheating on his girlfriend, but then again, a part of him couldn’t care less. What right did she have to be happy, if he was miserable in every single waking moment of his pitiful life? Sliding a frustrated hand between the soft tendrils of his hair, Caelum straightened his frame and walked into the dimly lit pub. The moment he stepped into the filthy muggle establishment, Caelum’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell of the heavy muggle booze and the putrid smell of sweat lining the air. It was disgusting enough that Caelum bedded these beings—but as of today—he had no idea why he had to resort to these ill-designed pubs to do it. Caelum supposed that the discreetness had something to do with it. Sighing—and inhaling a gulp of that ridiculously decayed air, he moved through the pup, his eyes fixating themselves on the bar, before he even had the chance to properly look around. His long strides moving in the direction of the pub, Caelum, took a seat on the far end of the stool, next to a rather thin man with a gaunt expression laden across his face. Caelum didn’t pay much heed to him, he had absolutely no carnivorous desire tonight—especially not before a few drinks first. Tilting his head to the side—and hearing the man say Vodka aloud to the bartender, Caelum mimicked him and ordered the same, “Make that two.” Caelum intertwined his hands together and buried the crook of his forehead against the open flesh of his palm. His mood was steadily dampening by the moment, especially after being inside the crevices of this bar. Feeling the bartender nudge the clear liquid in his direction, Caelum eyed the peculiar muggle drink apprehensively before tilting his head back and taking a generous sip. The acidic drink burned its way down his throat and Caelum revered in the uncomfortable feeling. The hazy burn flowing down his esophagus felt good, in fact, he could feel his deep inner most thoughts shutting out. It was only a wonder why Caelum developed such a fixation for it. Alcohol fixes everything.

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tagged: the sexy theo !
word count: 951 !
notes: sorry he is sooo broooooding !
outfit: nakey time !
lyrics: ...to be loved - papa roach !
credit:NOTHING_PERSONAL @ CAUTION !

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