jeremiah-holt

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Happy 41th Birthday David Jude Law! (December 29, 1972) “I feel more and more at ease, because I think the older I get, the less pressure there is.”

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Mm, good boy -pulls him close so their bodies are touching- Looking forward to Christmas, love?

I… I… -shuffles towards, eyes downcast-

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Come here, Q.

I um… I g-guess… I-I…

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Maybe you'd like to come and stare at something else for a while, hm little love?

I feel like I’ve been staring at this wall for years…

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Nothing I'm sure. Well, apart from, say, a warm obedient body between us and a few toys and instruments to play with.

So what the hell are we waiting for? 

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Merry Christmas Chels and Q ♥

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I should say so.

Would be about time too, don’cha think? 

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As in perfected. Matured. Ready to be your own master. Though I'm sure that won't be long. Like I said, I was admiring your methods, love.

"More developed"? The hell is that supposed to mean? Been here 9, 10 years doing.. what, sitting on my ass? Fuck no.  

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Good. I'm not your enemy, Braden. Perhaps once you're more... developed, you'd like to team up with me.

Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re the pro, I get it. And, jesus, you’ll see some results, alright. Chill.

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THOMAS & FRANCISO // SCREEN TEST FOR FROM BEGINNING TO END

WATCH THIS AND CRY WITH ME.

CRY WITHME 

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Jeremiah listened closely. It wasn't often, if ever, that he took an interest in a slave's background but he and Jeremy seemed to have something more in common. His lip twitched somewhat in vague amusement. "How funny," he murmured. "I didn't know my father either." Perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the fact that Jeremiah hadn't had a proper conversation in days, if not weeks, or maybe it was out of sheer loneliness that he was giving Jeremy information that not many people, other than his brother, knew about. He downed the rest of his whiskey from his glass before picking up the bottle and taking several mouthfuls from there too, feeling like he needed to be much more drunk for this and taking relish in the warm burn down his throat from the drink. Leaning back into the sofa, Jeremiah exhaled slowly. "Looks like we have more in common than you might have thought, little red," he said quietly. He was silent for a while after that, deep in thought about something before glancing at the little slave. "You know, if you so wish it, I could quite easily claim you. Give you a warm place to sleep every night. Smokes and booze. Games of snooker." He smirked a little. "You remind me of myself a little."

He looked up from the rich amber liquor to meet Jeremiah’s eyes, calmer than he ever thought he’d be outside of his cell, yet not by much. The small glimpse of the man’s past he was given had left Jeremy with no answer to give. He’d never even really thought about the backgrounds, the roots, of his indirect abductors, and the thought of having something in common was enough to give him something to think about as soon as he got the time too. He lifted his eyebrows, a subtle sign of surprise, and nodded just once before taking a nip off his whiskey. “My parents..” he repeated. “Well, one’s banned from the liquor store, and the other’s.. I don’t really.. know that much about my dad. And thank god for that. I mean, if my mom kicked him out, my mom, he was either awesome or an even bigger douche. A fifty-fifty chance I don’t wanna take. But I’m pretty sure he got me the lame ass hair color. So my vote goes out to ‘douchebag’.”

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Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking - Snow Patrol I could do most anything to you