klarsynt

[klarsynt]

when tom reaches for him, emil gives no resistance. he turns to face him with an uncertain expression that quickly turns into something much softer upon his instruction. he knows there is no way for them to predict how this will go for the other man. it's why they're out here. part of it, at least. no one has tried to help him so no one knows his boundaries but emil can't help but think he is better fit to try than anyone else. he lifts a hand to tom's chin, lightly pinching it between his thumb and forefinger with a small smile. ❝ i'll be alright. ❞

emil lets go of his vampiric companion to hone in on his prey again. the man has dropped his cigarette on the pavement, which means he only has a little time to nab him. he moves with that swiftness which their unnatural state has provided. he comes around the back of the man, clamps a palm over his mouth and circles an arm around his waist before dragging him back into an alley. they melt into the shadows together. the man squirms and even tries to bite at his hand which would make emil laugh if he were more cruel of a man. these folks always fight. he never takes away their right or dignity to try. he merely turns this one so he can see him face to face, presses him up against the brick wall of the bar with one palm to his chest. it's all it takes really.

the man takes a swing at him and he catches his wrist gently before it can connect. emil moves closer, pins that arm against the wall as well with a shushing, comforting noise rumbling forth. as if he were bidding a child to cease crying. head dips low and he pushes his face into the side of his neck to sink his fangs in deep. they always stop fighting at this bit. he has never quite understood why. he hasn't the presence of mind to care the moment warm blood rushes into his mouth, trickles down his throat so sweetly. memory courses through him just as quickly, emotion which does not belong to him but that of a man realizing he is dying. it is a sensation he knows well. he knew it long before the vampirism claimed him. he endures, even as his cheeks grow wet with bloody tears, the taste of sorrow upon his tongue. he drinks until he feels the man's heart take it's last beat, then he pulls back, gently lowers him onto the ground with reverence. blown pupils flicker away from the corpse in search of tom.

“just a feeling.” he repeats, pondering it for a moment. he looks at the man and feels nothing. numbness. he has spent so long repressing his instinct and starting back up is not easy. emil is firm in telling him that they must go ahead and so he bites back the part of him that tells him to go. “i don’t feel him, but go ahead.” tom is in no position to judge his choice. the man is like any man to him, but he trusts emil must have more gut instinct than him. 

“we’ve come so far and don’t think my reaction is going be any different whether i watch or not.” maybe madness will strike him sooner if he sees blood before he tastes it, but the reaction, he reckons, will be the same. chaotic, uncontrollable. tom reaches for his arm again and tugs him closer to him, looking at him seriously, “go do it and remember that i may not be myself in a moment or two. don’t get hurt."

[klarsynt]

his features smooth out again as tom brushes his finger at the corner of his mouth. he is almost puzzled by the gesture. he takes on a half-sheepish expression because he can't think of any rebuttal. maybe that wasn't a very convincing way of reassuring him. it is the truth, however. he has survived on very little for a very long time. the warmth tom is giving him is more than he would expect. he thinks it is enough. he worries what it would mean if it wasn't, how far it would crack open the chasm of loneliness and hunger deep within him. it is better left untouched, he thinks. he watches as tom touches his chest, feels himself relax beneath the sweetness of the gesture while his heartbeat pulses into his palm.

there's a softening in his expression. ❝ do i? ❞ he murmurs. he reaches his hand to graze his finger along tom's chin. it's difficult to argue with him when he is looking upon him with the most adorable determination. he likes it. he likes that little flame in his eye.

he doesn't need to be commanded twice. emil grins softly and swiftly sits up. ❝ i think i like you bossy, ❞ he remarks as he takes tom's face into both of his hands now. he holds his jaw firm and presses his lips to his. he kisses him fervently, pressing his tongue to his and truly savoring the taste of him. he lowly trails one of his hands down from his face until he can snake an arm around his waist, holding them both secure. ❝ got any other orders for me? ❞

god there is that forwardness again that makes his head spin. that strangely blunt way of speaking that tom cannot replicate. and he tries to. perhaps he will learn it from him and become as foreign to the century as emil is. strange and delightful. tom hums contently against his lips as emil sneaks in another kiss before speaking. he smiles until he senses something shift in emil’s expression. he reaches out to touch the corner of his mouth where the smile has faltered. his brows knit together, “is that supposed to convince me?” he tries to play his concern off as something more light-hearted, afraid of ruining the moment if there is really nothing wrong. in any case he must know.

tom removes his hand from his face and places it on his chest instead. he closes his eyes as he locates his heartbeat. he rests it there only for a moment before letting it trail further down his abdomen, until his own body is in the way of it traveling further. “you may feel like you don’t need much, but you deserve it.” he looks into his eyes, determined to somehow change his mind. not that he is entirely sure how or why.

he shifts again, slightly lifting himself up and settling himself down closer to his crotch. “sit up,” he says, “come up here and kiss me.”

[klarsynt]

emil leaning on the shoulders of shorter muses but like he stands behind them so he can rest both forearms on each shoulder. if he's feeling really obnoxious he'll also put his chin on top of their head.

[klarsynt]

@allhunts charlie sent: ❝ we saved the world. i say we party. ❞

amusement crosses scarred features as he registers her words. despite the exhaustion in his eyes he manages to muster a smile. emil swipes a palm over his forehead, coming away with sweat and...something else. he really does not want to examine what it is. after the day they have had it could be any number of creature's guts or weird shit. he needs a goddamn shower. ❝ i could definitely use a fucking drink, ❞ he mutters. emil wipes his hand on his pants. it's not much cleaner but at least the sticky thing is off his skin. ❝ if i don't clean up in the next hour i'm gonna get so manic you'll never ask me for help again. ❞

[klarsynt]

he feels the man's close observation and emil does not shy away from it. any bashfulness he might possess ends the moment it comes to flirtation and knowing his strengths. he's got nothing to hide or be ashamed of when it comes to the type of observation he's receiving right now. in fact, he rather likes it and would encourage it if he didn't think it might further fluster the man too much. he settles instead for enjoying the warmth of his palm. he doesn't let go either, just feels him, feels how his energy seeps into himself, flashes of his very poor date running through his system quickly. he forces himself to let go of his hand before he sees too much, gets too lost in it all. ❝ tom...it's a real pleasure. ❞

he grins and almost laughs at the idea of leaving the girls up there after his cue, waiting for him to come do his number then scrambling to cover if he doesn't show up. no, staying is out of the question as much as he would like to look at this man beneath the moonlight a little more. ❝ trouble is right, ❞ he murmurs, dragging his eyes up and down tom, lingering on his mouth, purposefully. ❝ i hope i rise to the occasion, ❞ emil chuckles. ❝ though if the show turns out to be shit, at least i'll have an excuse to make it up to you. ❞

tom smiles as he watches the man smoke his cigarette. it feels like they have both let themselves get unknowingly caught up in a strange ritual. fascination has seized him and while there is quiet, he simply studies the face in the dim light. he unconsciously wets his lip when the man turns his face away and reveals the sharp line of his jaw. his neck. it makes him a little flustered when he realises, but he does not look away. “someone? sure.” 

he takes back the cigarette and brings it to his lips. he lets it dangle there when the man extends his hand to him and he takes it. being told his name feels almost like being told a secret. tom holds his hand still while he removes the cigarette again with the other - not very far from his lips and only long enough for him to respond with his own name: “i’m tom.” he laughs when emil talks about people wanting to kiss their asses. he can easily imagine that. he takes a drag of the cigarette then raises his eyebrow at the other, “it’s too bad you have to go in there. i’d ask you to stay here but i imagine that’s trouble for you. guess i’ll just be your critic for tonight then, emil.”

[klarsynt]

teeth grit together, muscle in his jaw pulsing as he glances down at her hand. a crease forms between his brows the more he takes in the sight of that warm glow. ❝ wasn't exactly trying to invite them to dance, ❞ he mutters. he knows they're right. it isn't like he hasn't been scolded before by doctors, by his own damn handler, for how reckless he is. it's expensive for a weapon as valuable as himself to be so damn accident prone. his grows more still at the added comment. ❝ it's fine. ❞ it's a lie. of course it sticks with him. everything and everyone he touches sticks with him. he knows exactly what it felt like to be the bastard who tried to tear him apart, the anger, the desperation. but he's used to it. he tells himself he's used to it even as he shudders. ❝ uh-huh. i feel real lucky right now. after this i'm gonna go buy a scratch ticket. i'll give you half the winnings. ❞ the dry remark leaves him all too quickly. he forces himself to add more meekly. ❝ thanks...i mean it. could probably use one less scar. ❞

sera pressed her hand to the wound just below his ribs, grace flickering like soft static beneath her skin. the light that spilled between her fingers wasn’t blinding, this time around; it pulsed gently, blue and warm, like a heartbeat trying to steady his. they focused on the torn flesh knitting back together, the subtle way pain would begin to drain from his body. 'you shouldn’t let people get this close,' her voice was calm but edged with something sharper; concern disguised as critique. 'not when you feel everything the way you do. some of it has to stick with you, right?' finally, her eyes met his, the being giving him a close lipped grin. 'you're lucky i found you first,' @klarsynt ; liked.

[klarsynt]

JOEL KINNAMAN as TAKESHI KOVACS    ↳ ALTERED CARBON, EPISODE TWO - FALLEN ANGEL.

[klarsynt]

❝ it ever occur to you that sometimes i'm just here for a drink? ❞ he questions her dryly, coming to rest his forearm against the countertop. he isn't, of course. he never is. there's always business for him to chase down. it's a nonstop cycle: track, torture interrogate, kill. it's one of the three. sometimes, all of them at the same time. that's life. he does, however, order his own drink. he can multitask. when the bartender steps away he turns his atention back to bela. ❝ wanna tell me which kind of your messes you think i'm here for? ❞ he asks with a lifted brow.

she watched his reflection in the bar’s dusty mirror, sipping at her drink and waiting until he got close enough to hear her sigh. 'you always show up right after things get messy, emil. it would almost be amusing. if it wasn't infuriating,' she turned on the stool, crossing one long leg over the other, eyes flicking up to meet his with a smirk. 'let me guess — someone hired you to kill the man i just robbed? again?' she chuckles, taking another drink from her glass. 'if you're here to finish the job, at least buy me a drink first. it’s rude to assassinate someone mid gin and tonic,' @klarsynt ; liked.

[klarsynt]

❝ all that magic and they haven't figured out the art of the assembly line, ❞ he chuckles, genuine amusement dancing in his eyes at the thought. he never would have considered the lack of industrial revolution on other planets could have such fascinating consequences. his smile lingers as he observes her thoroughly enjoy the strawberry. gaze flickers down to her lips for a brief moment before he forces himself to return his focus to the task at hand. his knife is set aside and he moves back to the oven, carefully slotting the brief just inside. he sets a short timer with a satisfied nod. when he returns to the counter—and loki's side—he sets about finishing his arrangement of pristine fruit on their little platter. ❝ watch out for my cat, he'll try to swipe the cheese. greedy little fucker. ❞ the culprit in question was sitting on the other side of the island counter, acting perfectly well behaved on a barstool. for now. ❝ tell me, of all the things you've tasted here on earth, have any favorites? ❞ he asks out of genuine curiosity, but he also wants to know for future reference. make next time loki needs cheering up he will know the exact comfort meal to produce.

❝  i'll be sure to flatter plenty. ❞ she says, watching as he fetches a tray for the snacks. she hadn't expected him to prepare something so fancy to go along with their wine - cutting the fruits up into little shapes for the two of them. she could do nothing but watch in the matter, accustomed to seeing this very sight in the kitchen on asgard. ❝  you don't think so? it may be a sign of technological advancement - something that my world lacks in greatly. ❞ she commented, knowing that he was making a good point regardless. there was an over abundance for certain; and the fruits might not have been as fresh as they should have been. though, it was still impressive to her that they didn't need to wait for a specific season to enjoy certain fruits. ❝  consider me impressed by it. ❞ she smiled, reaching out for the strawberry. taking a bite of it, her mouth was filled with a pleasant taste. it hadn't the feel of something that was grown differently than as they were in her homeland. it tasted amazing. she was fond of berries, her favorite snack. ❝  perfect. ❞ putting the stem with his scraps, she was eager to share the food with one another - a first to have someone prepare something personally for her.

[klarsynt]

just watched a snake crawl up under my car so 🧍

[klarsynt]

also i know i'm behind on ooc interactions! just know i'm mentally kissing all of your foreheads and will respond when i have time/energy <333

[klarsynt]

i am completely absorbed in reading queen of the damned today but like this for memes later <3

[klarsynt]

peace is an illusion so easily shattered. emil has known that his whole life, even before recruitment, before his world fell apart again and again and again. he has come to expect. he looks for it, for the cracked edges threatening to make everything break, for the imperfections bound to implode. a weapon does not expect to be laid to rest for long. that is what he is. a weapon. a sharp edge. a knife to be plunged deep, a gun to be pointed, trigger to be pulled. maybe he just got a little too comfortable playing make believe with the other half of his double life.

it's surreal. he stands there a moment in the driveway, squinting down towards the other man with a lopsided smile. it's one of those things that happens too fast and two slow at the same time. he is moving towards manny just as the man grabs him. he's too far. and emil isn't quite fast enough. he doesn't shout. hardly makes a sound. his eyes just grow wide and instincts take over. emil reaches to his back, fingers curling around the gun he hadn't not yet shed for the evening. this time, he is the fast one. he's oddly calm and focused as he raises his pistol and aims. a second gunshot cracks the air and a mere second later the mugger drops to the ground.

now he can panic. emil rushes towards manny, depositing his weapon back into its holster. he kneels down beside him ❝ baby—can you hear me? ❞ there's an edge to his voice, but he tries to keep it level. this sort of thing isn't supposed to happen to someone like manny. ❝ christ— ❞ he presses his palm to where the bullet came out the other side. his other hand reaches to place his palm against the other man's cheek. ❝ look at me. you're gonna go into shock and it's really fucking important that you don't fall asleep right now. you hear me? ❞

@klarsynt / manny almost dies!

all he wanted to do was get home so he could spend the evening with emil after a long and tedious day at work, but it was a good one that resulted in him being able to get a book that he knew his boyfriend had been wanting for a while now. it was in his hand where it was ready to be handed to the other man upon seeing him, but that chance wouldn't come anytime soon with what happened as he walked down the sidewalk.

he could see his apartment building growing closer and it wasn't long before the sight of emil came into view as well, bringing a smile to manny's lips as he walked a bit faster to get to him quicker. had he been less distracted and more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the man who came out of the shadows with a gun at his side. only when he was grabbed did manny realize he had been followed.

before he could do anything or even begin to react, he heard the stranger demanding that he hand over his money. a task that should have been easy to comply with, however manny was too shaken up to figure out what to do. all he could do was stammer apologies before pleading to be let go, however he soon fell silent as he was then shot in the back. the sound of the gun going off making his ears ring as he fell to the ground with his book falling out of his grasp and landing in a nearby puddle.

[klarsynt]

the tension in his muscles, the momentary hesitation, fades away the moment she smiles at him. stella always has a way of doing that to him. not just in these more intimate moments, but in general. one look from her and all his burdens melt. not forever, but for a little while and that's often enough. he has often found an ease in her presence he has never known with anyone else. it makes him all the more determined to hold onto her. he knows the risks they are taking by crossing this line, knows if they ever find out about this he might be reassigned. she could be sent somewhere else. maybe it's not life-risking danger. it's almost worse. the idea she could be taken from his hands, could be living and breathing somewhere just out of reach, able to move on from him and have a normal life. he knows if that happened he would never be able to forget her.

the mere thought has him reaching for her again as a small smile breaks across his own lips. ❝ never. ❞ his fingers close around either side of her jaw, holding her steady as he leans in and presses his mouth to hers. his lips work with hunger. yet, despite the neediness there is some level of reverence. she deserves that. she deserves to be touched like the light that she is. emil doesn't shy away from her fingertips, gives her the access to his body and all the scars there without any more hesitations. one of his hands lowers and curls around her wrist. he guides her up to his shoulder, lets her touched the mapping of marred flesh even as he kisses her.

knows rules are being broken. knows she shouldn't be doing this, that he is her patient, she is his doctor . . . but something changed as she got to know him these last couple of months. one of the few she felt at ease with at tantalus, and actually connected with. the rest of the staff felt cold, distant and the others that came through her office barely said a word, other than when she asked medical questions. emil was warm. he was there. it was different. and she fell in love without meaning to. maybe she should tell someone, her boss maybe, but this felt more right. keeping it, just between the two of them. figuring it out as they went.

bare feet against cold floorboards, but it does little to cool down the heat rushing through her right now. it sparks alive beneath his touch, warmer and warmer as she lose more and more clothes. her fingers curl into his shirt and for a second, lips chase after his when he pull away, eyes slowly fluttering open. gaze slowly flicker across his face before the fabric is pulled off and tossed to the side. and there is something about it. patched him up, figured there were probably more scars than she'd seen however. takes a moment before eyes drop down to his upper body, one of her hands reach out, more curious perhaps than hesitating, before palm skate up his abdomen and chest, slow before she steps closer, head tips back and there's hint of a smile tugging at the corner of lips. " getting cold feet ? "

[klarsynt]

yes. firm at first. then...i don't know. i need it. you need it. he cannot claim to be an expert, but what they are requires sacrifice. true sacrifice. not rats and street dogs and whatever else he scrounges up off the streets. if it was meant to sustain them, they wouldn't crave the blood of humanity so deeply. so he steps forward with the confidence the other man lacks. he misses tom's touch as soon as it is lost. his head just slightly turns to the side to watch as he falls a step behind.

❝ i'm not sure yet, ❞ he admits quietly. ❝ it's just...a feeling. ❞ his gaze flutters over his prey. he is tall, but no so tall as them. a hat is fitted upon his head, shielding his eyes as if he wants to hide, as if the shadow of the night were not enough. ❝ something about his energy. i don't like it...but a part of me— ❞ he shakes his head. ❝ i don't like how he feels. and it makes me want to...you know. ❞ he doesn't like his energy and so the beast in him wants to destroy it. he wants to crush the coldness inside that man and tell himself it makes up for all the cruelty he himself possessed in his mortal days. emil moves to the left, towards the shadows the buildings cast and pulls the darkness around himself as he advances. you don't have to watch. not if you don't want to.

tom observes emil closely as he becomes distracted by the figure in the distance. just like that, he is transported back to the reality of it all. a shiver cascades along his spine and he tightens his hold around emil’s arm. his nails dig into him firmly when his instinct tells him to prevent this, to distract him if he can. his own cowardice isn’t exactly a surprise to him, but he knows it might disappoint the other. tom shakes his head, even though he know emil isn’t look at him. are you sure this is really necessary?

after a moment, he does let go of him. his hand is empty for the first time since they left the theatre. he takes a step back, letting emil get in front of him so that he can follow his lead. he tries to swallow his nerves. eventually he asks him “why him?”. he looks ahead, eyes narrowing slightly, as he tries to think of what it is about the man that speaks him, “what are you thinking?”

[klarsynt]

@warplanet din sent: in a quiet moment, din leans his helmeted forehead into emil's forehead and stays there, silent.

all the planets he has touched, the moons he has docked on, the satellites stationed upon, and emil swears there are no two sunsets that are alike. there is a serenity to watching blue skies erupt in overwhelming hues of glowing orange and bright pink. he is distracted by this one, hazel eyes taking on a warm, umber glint when he glances away from the fire in front of him. the smell of roasting food—the real kind: fresh meat, vegetables, spices—wafts around him, only cementing the rare, comfortable haze of the evening. he turns from the fire, ladle in hand to glance at din. emil grows still when the other man draws closer. it always makes his heartbeat stutter, his breath catch. his expression grows soft as the mandalorian's head tips towards his. cool metal kisses his brow. a small smile curls at his lips, subtle but there all the same. he lifts his free hand and curls his fingers around din's bicep.

❝ hey... ❞ his voice is a low rumble, the only other noise besides crackling flames and insects chirping nearby. slowly, emil trails his hand up his shoulder, to the side of his neck and then the back of it. index finger brushes past fabric so he can chase the warmth of skin. he shifts his touch, moves gradually just enough until he can feel his hair just underneath the edges of his helmet. he reaches behind himself without moving away so he can drop the ladle into the pot. with is other hand now free he reaches for din's side, fingers curling into the fabric at his ribs as if to anchor the both of them there. he breathes out slowly and allows himself to enjoy the moment, the scarcity of peace and quiet is odd considering how vast the galaxy is. but they lead rough lives. they must appreciate what they can get when it comes. and learn to let go when it is time to move. several moments drag on before he finally speaks again, a dry but teasing tone to his voice ❝ i stand here any longer the roast might burn. ❞

[klarsynt]

what do yall like to read 🧍🏼‍♀️