#disgracedjournalist

[tattooinsxnity-blog]

"L---" He couldn't say her name. Not yet. Not without breaking the cool facade he'd established since meeting her after their abrupt parting ( one that even HE didn't fully understand yet ). But he does manage to look her in the eye, refusing to be the one to break eye contact. "Be careful."

     Bells of victory should have rang a melodious tune so delicious even the smell of freshly baked pepperoni pizza would have been thwarted for dance. But that wasn’t the case was it? There was only affliction in a warm voice, torment at the sight of a pale five o’clock shadow, and nauseous expensive cologne to deflect pained eyes from looking towards an offensive weakness.

                        ‘Be safe yourself’

     Lisbeth wanted to return the well-wishes, but made a short nod instead. She would be brave in her silence, inner turmoil running a rake through her churned guts, but never the less, cool, confident, just the way she has always been when faced with disorder.

     In truth, if she truly had been open about her feelings, truly embracing their pull, she would have grabbed his hand, steal a hug, and whisper to him a confession she would NEVER speak–I miss you. There were lots of things Lisbeth didn’t fear. Not death, not opinions, not even solitude, but there had been one thing that ate her mind like a rabid disease: love. The attachments that came with love, the feelings, and everything she felt for Kalle Blomkvist.

     She needed to walk away.

[tattooinsxnity-blog]

@disgracedjournalist

Lisbeth had just risen out of bed when sweat soaked through one of her more insulting t-shirts ushered an annoyed sigh. Her dreams were becoming more and more threatening, and it had nothing to do with the encyclopedia of reptiles she had been reading for distraction. No, they consisted of a certain agent by the name of Zala whom she hardly wanted to acknowledge and another of her legal guardian. No—not the Palmgren—the sword fighter, Nils Bjurman. Both men, of course are dead, and unfortunately neither by her hand, but somehow they have transcended the living plan and have revived themselves in her self-conscious. It was infuriating and frightening at the same time, but nothing a cigarette could fix with a long soak in the tub.

But somehow even that hadn't made her loosen up. To be honest, there was another factor in her dream. An entity that made Lisbeth bite her nail flicking the ash into a tray thoughtfully situated by the tub. Regrettably, the bath could only rinse theoretical disgust. However, there is another way that Salander can subdue this itching that crawled on her skin a million spiders. With nothing but a sloppy robe to cover whatever it could, Lisbeth walked to her computer and booted the device. She tapped her nails anxiously on the table while puffing her cigarette impatiently through her lips. It nearly seemed whatever it was, is of dire consequence. As if not clicking on her driver programs to hack into a journalists system would be the death of her, or at least an annoying maw nibbling on her ankle. She needed to do this, get it off her chest.

Ignoring the familiar background of a loving father and daughter smiling, a rouse to the truth, she dived into the computer's files filtering through useless data she could care less about, or half-assed articles incomplete until a familiar folder with a simple tagline stood out to her. Which it should have of course, for it is her name on it in connection to 'things'. Lisbeth must have looked stupid, in fact she knows she does. It was hard already to bite back the excitement to run to her laptop and begin, but now she could hardly contain the growing smirk on her face.

                            […]

was all she managed to type before she stopped and starred at the blinking icon. Exactly what was she going to say to Mikael Blomkvist? A number of things could be written—an insult or two, maybe a jab, or maybe she should just abandon this stupid idea, after-all it was only just a dream. A few more seconds pass and the keys on her laptop begin to click.

                             [...Stop invading my sleep.]

[ofdragontattoos]

disgracedjournalist: 

Avoiding the calls of 'trick or treat' wasn't easy, and he'd decided to go out for a walk. A walk that turned into a ride in the subway, which became a trip up a flight of stairs. Knocking at the door of V. Kulla, he slid his hands in the front pockets of his down jacket, stamping his feet a little to keep these warm. He'd waited for a familiar, pierced face before even speaking. "Hi. I was in the neighborhood and wondered if you wanted to go out for some coffee. With me."

Salander was not, for once, in the bath when Blomkvist came to call on her. It had to be Blomkvist, after all, since he was the only living person who knew of her new address. She would have preferred no one knew, and yet fate chose differently. With her dark hair tied at the base of her neck, red roots starting to show because she couldn’t be arsed to freshen her dye job lately, she leaned in the doorjamb to watch his face.

“What are you doing?” she asked after a long silence..

[tattooinsxnity-blog]

"Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you, my darling."

Lisbeth looked at Mikael skeptically. She pondered to herself whether he had one too many pints of Guinness or maybe the latest Nora Roberts novel filled him with more imagination than a school yard child. She found he fancied all sorts of books recently beyond murder mysteries and exceptionally dragging instructional notes of ‘How To’ or financial media crises, particularly in accompaniment when Blomkvist had a longer days that left him frazzled and in bed by nine. Lack of inspiration is what she pegged it to, that or Millenium is taking a much harsher toll on him mentality than usual.

These days, she visited him frequently on a grand total of once a month. It wasmore than could be said about their messages shy of missing the other by a few hours or so, however that was mostly dictated by Lisbeth when she felt like hacking into his computer and snooping around a particularly named folder. Nevertheless, it was a time of the month she didn’t regret too much and secretly looked forward to.

“Do I look like someone who uses pet names?” she questioned.

Truth is, Lisbeth had all sorts of nicknames for people that she met, good or bad. Most are just a mockery to a respectable title or lack of respect to an individual, while other it was the polar opposite, those whom she values. In a way, it was lazy of her, but she didn’t care. Mirriam, for example, has a cute nickname she uses, ‘Mimi’, and her friend within the hacking community ‘Plague’ is as is, ‘Plague’, but Mikael would be one of few whom she actually says his name, hardly calling him by his nickname.

Regardless of her aversion to the recent turn of events, it was a bit surprising that the woman whom is known far and wide to hardly do a thing requested of her, obliged to Mikael. But that really is no surprise, as she, like done so many times in the past, followed his request even though it went against her code of conduct. There is just something about ‘Kalle’ Blomkvist she could hardly resist, and curled herself under his arm in the chair he sat in.

[costumesandphoenixes]

♟:Patching up a wound [ Mikael's a little accident prone I think x) ]

disgracedjournalist || Nonsexual Acts of intimacy Meme

Aiden had never really been one for carrying around band-aids or anything else first-aid-ish. But she wasn’t much of a traveler either. Even right now she still was surprised she’d taken the trip with her parents to Stockholm, though part of it probably had to do with the fact she’d never been outside the country, and it was a prime opportunity. Still, when she told her parents, who were going to a meeting with her father’s partner that was trying to get an international deal with a Swedish company, that she was going to go for a ride on the subway to the main shopping district, her mother had insisted that she not only take a map but some other first aid supplies, just in case.

She’d hardly expected that during the ride she’d be helping an older man by applying a bandage to his temple where it’d slammed against a pole when the train jolted. She didn’t know how to say “I’d suggest you go to a hospital and get it looked at” in Swedish, so she just said it in English, hoping that he’d understand by some miracle.

[hamndgirig]

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