carrdas - Tumblr blog

[carrdas]

@carrdas  is  satine’s  best  friend  this  is  the  most  canon  thing  in  the  entirety  of  the  whole  sw  universe.

[carrdas]

only people that i like can touch my hair

[carrdas]

دلم به بی كسی چشمهات می سوزد  My heart breaks for the loneliness gleaming in your eyes

Qahar Aasi (via honeyandelixir)

[carrdas]

( @jjedi )

“YOU’LL GET USED  to it,” he said with a shrug. There was something about making your first run; the uncertainty, the excitement. It was a bit of an adventure. But they also had a job to do, & he’d taken a special interest in the girl & her career in his organization. He’d personally recruited her, & therefore had a personal investment in making sure she learned the ropes. Generally that would fall to someone else, one of his lieutenants, but -- rules were made to be broken.       They’d cleared spaceport control, their ID overlay had proven adequate, & it would only be a few minutes more before they landed.       He glanced over at her from the copilot’s seat & nodded towards the sensor array. “You have any final questions? It’s now or never. When we touch down it’s the real thing.” 

[carrdas]

interlude // ariana grande

[carrdas]

my friends: support me & give me compliments

me: wow would ya look at that time to go WEEP

[carrdas]

every. Single. Fucking. ThiNG. OH MY GOD. CAN Y'ALL BELIEVE THAT KYLIE INVENTED JORJ CAR'DAS??? NO??? BLASPHEMY. AHE DID. U DID. TF!! YOURE SO TALENT IT HURTS EVERYTHING IS SO BEAUTIFULLY THOUGHT OUT AND CONSTRUCTED AND I COULD LITERALLY WRITE W U UNTIL THE END OF TIME, AND AT THIS RATE, THSD EXACTLY HOW ITS SQUARING UP

how’s my portrayal?

i c aN literALLY aLWAYS cOU NT on YOU, CHArLIE, TO MaKE ME CrY aT WORK .  ilyilyilyilyilyilyilyilyily. 

[carrdas]

what is ONE THING you like about the way i play my character?

[carrdas]

so i spent .... a few weeks. working on a short story detailing car’das’ abduction by a dark jedi since that event is incredibly impactful on his character development & we don’t get an account of it in canon. & if any mutuals are interested i could send you the pdf !!  if u wanna read it. xo. 

[carrdas]

never underestimate how much time, effort, & creative juice i will pour into a relatively minor character until i forget they aren’t my oc

[carrdas]

Gael García Bernal photographed by Javier Salas (Vanity Fair Mx, Oct 2017)

[carrdas]

[carrdas]

Thesis: I swallow a bee for each ill deed done. I am a hive walking. I strain to hear you over the regret.

Vanessa Angélica Villarreal, from “A Field of Onions: Brown Study,” published in Waxwing (via lifeinpoetry)

[carrdas]

[carrdas]

carrdas:

during his career as a smuggler, jorj has two private ships that he uses for personal missions & jobs. 

azure dawn:   a WUD-500 star yacht, the azure dawn is his ship from the beginning of his career in 27 BBY until his encounter with the bpfasshi dark jedi in 11 BBY

trickster king:   named after the famed corellian mythic character; a kazellis-class light freighter, the trickster king is his personal ship from 11 BBY - ???   he takes it on his journey to the kathol rift in 1 ABY  but it’s never seen in the known galaxy again …    ( he keeps it in the exocron system, though doesn’t use it much if at all while he’s there, except for the occasional jaunt around the edge of the rift )

[carrdas]

( amloved )

DON’T CARE WHAT YOU WANT. don’t care what you want, what you think is real. reality is an illusion, a truth of a sick and twisted pleasure that writhes with all the rest of him in his own manner of illusion. he smiles, It smiles, IT BEARS ITS TEETH WITH GLEE, and falls tender like a second seduction as he flatters the barren skin with the chill…and something else. something older. something true to It’s own nature, the divested sense that plagues Its lingering essence. with face and form he whispers to it, coddles it within; no my jorj, my little snack. my potential. a temptation to temptation Itself, craning Its neck and exhaling a presence with closed lips and a breathlessness. filthy. rotten. CANCEROUS.

It shakes, It shudders, It caresses him in the dark.

‘ scared? ’ It asks, though It already knows the answer, and Its voice echoes, repeats itself repeats itself and blurs the smuggler’s vision of reality, in and out and in again with a sickly feeling of senescence crawling up his spine. a tilt of Its head, an unnatural series of movement. 

‘david,’ for that was once his name, oozes into the dark. bleeds dark upon dark upon ancient dark, the cackle that echoes in the splits of his teeth, bitten and chewed to shreds on such precarious pinpoints! A FOUL BREATH ( or a fowl breath, perhaps? ), a deception with a penchant for disregard; even in Its subtler habits—an artistry, truth be told—there is something brazen, brash and BOLD. a walking rash, wanton and erratic in Its sickness and Its spread.

‘ don’t be scared, jorj. ’ he purrs, becomes a proper realization, Its eyes virulent ( TOO ALIVE FOR BEING SO SICKLY IN NATURE! ) he wears a series of robes that wither and dither into the bottom shadows, still coiling at his feet. a billowing sense, and still to fill the room, to ghost over jorj’s feet and skin and send the feeling crawling up and down again. he reaches out to grab, a touch too gentle ( just for now, only for now ) and cups the smuggler’s face with a hand that warms to the touch…even still, that touch becomes an extension of himself within Itself, and snarls rather quietly around the base of his throat—not a squeeze, but a presence. be aware of the snake that sits there, jorj. be aware of how you thrash and throttle—and kisses the crown of his head. becomes the covering of his skull, and the frenzied outcrop of his hair. every strand, every sensation, every deceit that comes to welcome him, AND SERENADE THE DARKNESS IN HIS HEART.

HE WASN’T SURE WHAT THIS  was -- it looked like a man, but it didn’t move like a man, or sound like a man. It didn’t feel like a man. But he couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t still asleep -- he couldn’t be sure, even though the churning nausea in his gut suggested that he was wide awake, the thundering in his heart banished all ideas of rest, the whirling in his thoughts, their constant spinning, & the dizziness, it all meant that somehow ... this wasn’t a dream.       He’d had more than his fair share of nightmares becoming reality, but they had always started in a more believable way. This seemed like something straight out of a horror holo.      The man asked if he was scared, the man offered his name, though it seemed more like a joke than an actual introduction, & the man told him -- no, cajoled him, said to not be scared. It -- he was awfully close. Too close for Jorj to feel anything but a hyperawareness of the tiny movements of air on bare skin, to focus with intensity upon every touch, every breath. His body was in full alert, but he was also too frightened to move.       Suddenly, the shadow of a man became a real one. There was no longer any uncertainty, no longer any wavering vision or heady confusion. But even as that realization snapped into focus, the man, David, put a hand on his face & directed Jorj’s eyes to meet his; Jorj looked into those eyes & saw ... nothing. There was just a deep, endless abyss lurking there, a void. Nothing nothing nothing in those nightmare eyes. But even so, they had a quality --- Jorj could only describe as beautiful. Something beautiful & empty & ravenous. He felt spellbound, for a second, fear melting away & replaced by fascination.       He felt the man’s hand fall to the base of his throat, & the fascination melted away as the fear kicked in again. And when the man leaned forward & pressed an unsolicited kiss to his head, some mockery of intimacy, it felt like a violation. Jorj was alert. He was ready.       He hadn’t known how to fight a nightmare, but a man? He could fight a man.      With no warning, he burst into action, pushing the man violently away. He rammed both hands violently against the stranger’s chest & ------ he looked down in horror, a sudden pain nearly blinding him as he saw all flesh melt off his hands, as he felt it all dissolve, as it ------ then a blink, & he was fine.       A strangled cry, a stifled curse - both flew from his mouth as he scrambled backwards. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the sleeper & his legs buckled, but he kept moving back, away, as far as he could get. He ended standing on the other side of his bed, having had the presence of mind to reach out & grab with a flickering motion the holdout blaster & the vibrodagger he kept stashed in his bedside table.      He trained the blaster on the intruder, & the vibrodagger in a guard position.      “What in the nine hells are you?” 

[carrdas]

There is someone in my head but it’s not me.

Pink Floyd, from The Dark Side of The Moon (1973); “Lunatic,” (via violentwavesofemotion)