justsean: (Default)
Sean leans back in the chair after reading the question. So many things that give one a special emotion when seen for the first time..

But one that will always be special to him is the first time his daughter was placed in his arms and he looked down into her face, finally able to relax because everything had gone as it should and she was there, and had the right number of eyes and hands and toes.. and ears.. Sean remembers looking down with puzzled amusement - and a touch of pride - at the ears, because they were his ears, exactly the same shape, and in that moment realizing that he had really created a new human being and that a part of him was in this new little person who was squirming in his arms and trying to eat her little hand.

Yes, the first time he saw those ears was when he truly realized he was a father.


Jun. 23rd, 2005 10:25 pm
justsean: (Default)
Sean has some time to kill. His flight from Heathrow's got into JFK long before Viggo's flight from LA is due in, so he's into Manhattan already. A hefty tip and a slow, sexy smile directed with all of its shattering force on a defenceless receptionist has already checked them both with minimum fuss and even less questions into a top floor, corner suite at one of those posh design hotels.

He knows what they have waiting for them.. dark satin sheets, a private jacuzzi in a glass-paned bathroom facing the citylights that feels decadent enough to make even the Bean blush, a bottle of an Italian red that made the sommelier called in by the receptionist to assist with the selection raise his eyebrows at the choice and use the word "sexy" to describe it...
But he doesn't want to be in that room alone, so he walks the avenues letting the height of the buildings try to dwarf him and coming out the winner.

The MOMA is just around the corner and papers all over the world have raved so much about its renovation that Sean decides to spend the couple of hours he has to kill there.

Though a lot of the artwork he sees is sublime, his attention wanders, too caught up in the one who is going to join him and in the few days they have stolen together in this city.
Until he stops in front of a painting. A disturbing painting. Other visitors pass by, some jostling him annoyedly as he stands rooted in front of the canvas, but he cannot move.

He's never seen anything like this, he's never seen so many shades of blue and he's never seen shades of blue that convey such a sense of quiet hopelessnes. If Viggo were here with him, he would probably be able to explain how Picasso had used these shades of blue to convey the feel of a lightless world.
Sean only knows it makes him want to go back to the hotel room and turn all the lights on, and bless the gods for giving him light.
justsean: (Default)
How does one deal with a man who's just too hot for his own good?

Well, these boots are made for walking
And that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots
Are gonna walk all over you me

(These boots are made for walkin' by Nancy Sinatra)
justsean: (Default)
Oh god... I've been through this already... That is what Sean thinks as he reads the question, face blanching under the light tan.
It is not a matter of choosing here, the memory is just not one he can forget, even if he has happier ones now...

He will always remember that day on a New Zealand hill... Amon Hen, as Tolkien had named it... Boromir carried that memory with him, and it is a memory that will always remain with Sean.

He remembers everything about it.. He remembers the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, he remembers how cold he felt despite the heavy clothing and the warm, sunny day.. But above all he remembers Viggo becoming Aragorn and Aragorn bending low over him, his stricken face, the desperate look in his eyes mixing grief and failure. He remembers the tears.. real ones.. he remembers how warm Aragorn's lips felt when they touched his forehead.

He shivers, feeling the chill of death in his bones, just like he had felt it that day, then blood flows again, warm and tingling, because that day was after all not an end but a beginning.
justsean: (Default)
Sean hesitates. To his point of view, there's something intrinsically wrong in being inside another person's life, he feels it would be sort of like spying on that person. Doesn't matter if you're still yourself and just the shell you're inhabiting has changed, it's still wrong, it's still an invasion...

His chin juts out stubbornly, the way it always does when his mind is set on something and he's ready to defend his stance whatever objection might come his way.


The glittering light in his green eyes softens as he thinks of what it might feel like to be Viggo for one day, to see what he sees, think what he thinks... He's often wondered at how different and unique is the way Viggo sees the world and it must be amazing to view it through is eyes, through his mind. He would understand him better... He would see what Viggo sees when he looks at Sean...


Wrong, basically wrong..
justsean: (Bean color by Mediocrechick & Burningcha)
Sean runs a hand through his hair and swears softly but expressively.

Questions and then again questions, all so unreal and absurd.. Have these people never heard talk about real life?

How can a man narrow it down to just one thing that's important in his life when there's so many? There are things one chooses as important, but then there are things that are intrinsically important, that you cannot choose to have or not to have..

His girls are important, they're growing up so fast and as they grow up and their character becomes more defined he sees so much of himself in them that it makes him scared and proud at the same time.

Health, job, self-respect... How can one choose?

But then again.. A memory of long months and years regretting and wishing he'd acted differently come back to his mind.. So.. What if he were to stop for a moment playing at being at being macho-man Bean and admit that his love is what is most important in his life and that without him he would feel lost?
justsean: (Default)
Sean is nodding to himself even before his fingers start tapping the keyboard. No doubt about what is the answer to this question.


Being on a plane and knowing that there's a vast expanse of nothingness between his bum and the ground is the scariest thing he has ever experienced.

One would guess that by now he'd have got used to that, but the fact that he regularly has to travel and that flying is the most time-efficient and convenient option does nothing to make it easier.. quite the contrary.. Every time it gets worse.

Long flights, short flights.. they make no difference. He needs the ground, he needs to feel the earth under his feet. He always squeezes his eyes shut when the plane taxies to the take-off strip and the engines start to roar. He knows what is going to happen, he knows that the mad speeding will take them off the ground - if they're lucky and everything works the way it's supposed to.
He will be up there, in the middle of the void, wishing he knew how to pray and that a god - any god - will keep them safe.


Feb. 25th, 2005 08:53 pm
justsean: (Sean by Wizzicons)
You know, I can't make up my mind whether it's the Sundance Kid or John Holmes that he reminds me of...

justsean: (Sean by Wizzicons)
Alice in Wonderland?

Sure, been there, done that.

Sean scowls a bit as he remembers being dragged, amid much giggling, through the Alice in Wonderland labyrinth when he last took the girls to Disneyland.

He remembers the bored and bemused looks he traded with the other adults from above the hedges looping around the maze while the kids scampered along, their squeeing mixing with the repetitive loud call of a queen threatening to behead everyone.

He remembers having to regularly duck to avoid being squirted with sudden jets of water, that is after catching the first couple of them on his neck and having to spend the entire afternoon in the dubiously pleasant company of a wet shirt collar.

Wonderland? Thanks, but no thanks.

Sean gladly leaves it to Alice.


Feb. 4th, 2005 07:29 pm
justsean: (Default)
With growl and a curse Sean throws the paper with the offending piece of news )

into the blazing fire and watches it burn to ashes with truculent satisfaction, muttering to himself.

"Damn, fucking tabloids.."
justsean: (Default)
Mmhh, an unusual question..

He has his his "happily ever after", he's fairly sure of that.. He cocks his head for a moment, listening to the tuneless singing coming from the kitchen where Viggo is preparing some weird, ethnic concoction for their dinner. Yes, happily ever after is here to stay and Sean Bean is a very lucky man, but.. well.. what about those others?

He leans his head on the back of the couch and thinks of all the "unhappily ever after" he's played in his career..

So many broken lives there.. so few stories ending happily. He closes his eyes and loses himself in the many other Seans that have always inhabited his mind.

Aragorn and Boromir, striding proudly into Minas Tirith, side by side, while the guards call out 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!' and the standard with the white tree and the seven stars flies high above the battlements..

Ranuccio and Michele, and Lena.. an infant in her arms that impossibly has Ranuccio's blond hair and Caravaggio's dark eyes..

Errol Partridge, his eyes filled with emotion as he reads poetry to a packed audience at the opening of the first public library in Libria and smiles at Mary, seated in the front row and vibrant with love and life.

He's lost in a crowd of ghosts from his movies wanting their due, when Viggo's voice startles him, shattering the fantasy.

"Hey Bean, have you fallen asleep? Dinner's ready.."
justsean: (Default)
Sean snorts and taps his fingers impatiently. These people just don't understand...

Childhood memories are like a kaleidoscope.. fragments.. constantly moving, constantly changing.. Seen from a child's eyes the same thing can be sad and funny and awesome, all at the same time..

A children party.. a birthday cake falling to the floor.. every child point and elbows his friends and laughs.. and in a moment they'll all be crying, as soon as they realize there'll be no cake to eat..
justsean: (Default)
Sean rubs his nose while he considers what to say.

He knows what he really want to say.. and that is that he has no clue.

Women.. he doesn't do too well with them. Or, to be more specific, he does only too well, but usually friendship's not exactly a part of the equation.

Of course he always says he's remained good friends with his ex-wives, and to a certain measure he has, out of the shared interest in the girls and of the part of their lives they've shared if nothing else. And both his agent and his publicist are women, he considers them friends.. but that's not exactly what they're asking, is it?

Better go back to his first answer..

I don't know..
justsean: (Default)
Sean goes all tsk-tsk when he reads the question on the screen. He's amused, and his fingers seem to dance to the tune of an old 80's song he has playing in the background while he types his answer.

Look, I'm the father of three girls who have very definite ideas on what they want for their birthdays. So much so that it's taken all the enthusiasm out of me when I think of me birthday and what I would like to have as a gift on that day.

But I do like surprises...

So, if someone, a special someone, would like to surprise me with a birthday gift, there is indeed a little thing I might like to have. Once the garden at the back of the house is in proper shape, that is, and I have two sturdy trees put in for that purpose.
I'd like a hammock, a nice hammock large enough for two, or at least for two who want to be very close to each other.
Yes, I think I would like that very much.

Oh, and my birthday's on April 17... just in case...

hammock concept shamelessly stolen from [livejournal.com profile] ranuccio
justsean: (Default)
Sean swears softly at the laptop that refuses to switch on and connect to the web. He can't even kick at it, the way one does with a proper piece of machinery. Then all of a sudden the damn thing makes a whirring noise, sounding suspiciously like a raspberry, and sets in motion.

He glares at the the laptop and starts talking to it.

"I suppose you expect me to be grateful for the fact that you've decided to start doing the job you were built and bought for. Well then, I have a surprise for you... There are things that are way more important than you..."

He logs on to the web but keeps chattering to the laptop.

"See these three beautiful girls? They're my daughters, they're beautiful and clever and there are times they're so much like me it fucking makes my heart burst. And all these movies listed here? I've been in them. Okay, more often than not I played a fucking villain and ended up dead, but still people would remember me, sometimes even shed a tear for the way I'd died. And look at this glorious football team.. They're called the Blades, they don't win always but they always put up a good fight."

The other man in the room has been staring for some time at Sean as if worried that he's gone insane all of a sudden. When he realizes this, Sean grins apologetically.

"Sorry, I was just saying thanks for a series of things. I was about to get to the best part of it, saying thanks because I have you in my life."
justsean: (Default)
Sean throws his head back and stares pensively at the ceiling.

Sure, he's lied many times. Small lies, sometimes innocent ones, sometimes not so innocent ones, lies that he felt would not really hurt anyone or alter the course of reality.

But big lies?

He bites his lip, considering..

Yes, there is a big lie he's told, and he's told it more than once... every time he's told himself It doesn't matter.. when it mattered, when admitting to himself that it mattered would maybe have made him act differently.

All those times he lied just to himself, no harm in that, no one got hurt.. except for himself.
justsean: (Default)
Sean frowns.

Of course he feels vulnerable, lots of things make him feel vulnerable.

Sickness for example.. in himself and in others, especially when his girls are sick and he feels completely helpless and would willingly give a limb to make them get better.

Love makes him feel vulnerable, because it can hurt so fucking much and because he's screwed up so many times that now just the thought of being in love is enough to make him feel scared.

Who the fuck do they think he is?
Not even Sharpe was invulnerable, so why should Sean Bean be?
And isn't it funny that they should ask this of him, the one who dies in almost every fucking movie he does?
justsean: (Default)
Sean read the question on the screen and a huge grin appeared on his face.

Oh boy, did he remember!

He'd been fifteen, it had happened at a birthday party...

He'd never had a chance to drink more than a couple of beers when hanging aroudn with his own crowd, the guys his age. They could never lay their hands on enough booze to get properly drunk, but the party was for one of the older guys at school, the elder brother of one of his mates and that had given the two of them the chance to sneak in and drink whatever was on offer.. beer, gin and tonic, beer, rum and coke, beer, whisky and ginger ale..

Sean's mate had fallen asleep on the floor fairly early, but Sean had gone on until he'd begun to feel sick. The music seemed to thrum inside his head and his stomach seemed to dance in tune to it. He'd rushed to the loo and had puked the entire contents of his stomach. He'd then proceeded to drink enough water to float a ship in and had returned to the party.

He hadn't had the time to experiment some more with drink that night... One of the older girls had moved in on him as soon as he was back and had dragged him on to the dancefloor, complaining that every guy around was drunk.

Sean grinned. That had certainly been a night for first times...
justsean: (Default)
A little smirk curls Sean's lips as he reads the question and puts a spark in his eyes.

He taps his finger on the side of the laptop, considering...

Splurging 2000 dollars in a moment, in one go..

What would he get? Somehow he feels it should be something he wouldn't normally contemplate buying, something out of the ordinary, something that would satisfy a secret whim..

He smirks again, broadly, suddenly knowing what he would want to get and feeling deliciously guilty about it.

A rug made with the pelt of a guanaco, and he would greatly enjoy rolling in its thick, soft fur.
justsean: (Default)
Sean groans as he reads the question, tempted to bang his head on the desk. More navel gazing then...

But there's a trick to this question.
The answer seems obvious, but is it so?

Sure, heartache makes one stronger.. apparently.

When you're hurting you start to build a shell to protect yourself.
With each heartache the shell gets thicker and thicker, until nothing can hurt you anymore, because nothing can reach you.
The shell is bigger than the being it is supposed to protect, and so thick it becomes a prison.

So yes, the shell is stronger, while you are still the naked, vulnerable being you were before.
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