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[stberggren]

@STBERGGREN : a writing blog for an original character by NOORA (she/her, 26). a story about the historian tom berggren that explores themes of history, possession, the supernatural and mental health. mature themes will be present. all follows will come from my main hub blog @stlispenard. more under the cut.

TW: Potential mental health triggers, predominantly schizophrenia. This character is exploring the lines between mental illness and things such as the supernatural/possession and what is real/what is internal. It is a work in progress. It is intentionally ambiguous if what Tom experiences is real real or not. It is not meant to be a study in schizophrenia and i do not intend to invalidate the experiences of any real sufferers. It is merely meant to be a reflection of how experiencing the supernatural is very often misinterpreted/perceived as something demonic or insane. Please do not hesitate to reach out if something really bugs you. Tom's backstory is quite hazy (in that he can sometimes get it confused himself). He was born in 1923 in Sweden to a German mother and a Swedish father. His father's family had immigrated to Germany in the early 1900s and ended up fighting in the First World War. It was during the war that he met Tom's mother (a nurse with the red cross). After the war, Tom's father moved back to Sweden and was soon followed by his then-pregnant girlfriend. The couple welcomed their first son in 1919 (Tom's older brother). Their experiences with war ended up deeply affecting their homelife, with both parents suffering from ptsd and periodic spells of depression (undiagnosed). Both their boys became quite maladapted as a result, but while one (Tom's brother) expressed this by becoming quite crude and violent, Tom became withdrawn and preoccupied with studying (predominantly history).

Growing up in 1920s-1930s in Sweden as a half-German took a toll on him as well and he was bullied quite severely (for his origins and later his looks) and he becomes quite sceptical of people - although he generally treats people very politely (his smile just never rings quite true). He blocks out most of this experience and probably doesn't remember much of what went on in his teens (such as sexual experimentation, heartbreaks, struggles).

When he begins university, studying history - he begins hearing voices - The devil's, the voices of medieval saints and historical figures. But it isn't until he moves away from Sweden, and he starts researching old scriptures for his masters degree, that he begins experiencing complete blackouts and loss of time (in which he becomes possessed).

Name: Thomas ‘Tom’ Dietrich Berggren Age: 29 (born july 1923) Place of birth: Göteborg, Sweden Current location: Edinburgh Nationality: Swedish-German Education: History at Uppsala University (BA), Medieval history at the University of Edinburgh (MA) Occupation: Researcher and teaching assistant  Income: Pretty bad.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE 

Height: 6′ 2″  Eye color: Blue Hair color: Sandy blond Build: Athletically build, naturally high metabolism, lean (partly genetic, partly unintentionally bad eating habits) Distinguishing features: He has a pretty strange medieval inspired tattoo on the back of his left shoulder (inspiration).  Preferred outfit? Dapper, loose-fitting pants with a high waist (think 40s-50s style), thin tight-fitting knit or t-shirt. If more formal a mismatched blazer or jacket on top (never a full suit). He has most likely never owned a tie in spite of a career in academia. Basically this. Glasses? Yes (is short-sighted) Accessories: Small silver chain necklace, smokes a lot - so a cigarette. Grooming: Quite neat  Distinguishing “tics” and mannerisms: Slouches and leans against things a lot.  Health? Do they suffer from chronic illnesses? Overall good physical health Handwriting: Neat (unless possessed, then he writes unintelligible) Gait: Lazy stroll

SPEECH & COMMUNICATION 

Style of speech: Educated, although he has a strange accent that is not fully swedish, but more so a strange mix of his mother’s german accent and his father’s swedish one. His english is good, but is also influenced by him staying in Edinburgh for a few years. Tempo of speech: Measured  Pitch: quite melodic/calm  Distinguishing speech “tics”: Switches between languages Preferred curse word: Fuck (boring) Laughter? Rarely laughs loudly, but inaudibly chuckles or smiles.  Describe their smile: Brilliant, cheeky. Emotive? Do they wear their emotions on their sleeve? How easily can others read them? Isn’t terribly emotive, in that he usually has a pretty calm and even slightly bright/amused expression. Definitely smiles when he’s sad as well.

FAMILY 

Father  Age (if living): 60 Occupation: Teacher Briefly describe their relationship with your character: Tom is not quite as close to his father as he is to his mother, since they can both be quite passive/reluctant to talk or share things. They have a real men don’t talk about emotions kind of relationship, but Tom’s father is ironically the more emotional of his parents (we blame society/trauma/service for the disconnect). They rarely talk now. Mother  Age (if living): 57 Occupation: Nurse Briefly describe their relationship with your character: Can come across as strict and stern. Has similar issues to her husband in talking about feelings and instead she has always reined them in and focussed on being in control and quite commanding. She has obviously seen a great deal and while she has empathy generally, she has always had an issue acknowledging her children’s problems and casts them off as trivial almost. She’s a real ‘at least you don’t have blank’ type person. Tom considers himself quite close to her nevertheless. Again, he thinks of her too little and talks to her even less unless he’s contacted first. Siblings   How many? 2 What are their names? Ages? An older brother (by 4 years), a younger sister (by 2 years). Herman and Silja Briefly describe their relationship(s) with your character: Herman is intense and blows very hot and cold. He really dislikes his brother’s temper in general but he is also probably the person in his family he sees the most and talks to the most. He is fond of his sister and a little overprotective.

[stberggren]

MOVING TOM TO @stvampyr !

[klarsynt]

❝ do i seem like the kinda guy who says shit he doesn't mean? ❞ he questions him with a raised brow. his expression is almost stern, but not quite. he is too spent from their activities and taken with the man before him to be anything but tender just now. he watches as tom moves his touch, allowing him to guide his fingers wherever he will them to be. ❝ i don't waste my breath on empty words. ❞

he never has. emil knows how to lay it on thick with a lover, even on night stands, but he doesn't say anything he doesn't mean. tom is certainly more than a passing fancy, he's sure of that. ❝ but fine, ❞ he shrugs ❝ if you prefer it quiet. ❞ he doesn't mind that either. he feels comfortable and satisfied and thinks he could lie here with the other man for hours without a word said and still feel just as complete. despite that, he furrows his brows after a moment ❝ what 'hopes' do you think i'm playing with? ❞

[stberggren]

tom swallows hard when emil becomes severe. his face heats up in a way that is different to before. if he could turn back time and keep his mouth shut he would. playing the words back in his head, he can understand if he thought there had been some strange implication of him being a liar that tom had failed to consider. shit. tom retreats his hand and shakes his head, but all his words dry out in his throat.

mercifully, emil continues to speak. if not for that, tom would likely have rolled back onto his back and suffocated in silence. part of him would prefer that, sure, but it would be no way to end this night. “even if you were the type,” tom begins and inevitably it sounds completely wrong. frustrated, he touches the point between his eyes, wishing away the dull headache that is building (curtesy of the wine they had earlier) and hoping for some half-decent explanation to take form, “and i didn’t mean to suggest that you were any type of guy…but if you were… it would be fine. sex and alcohol can have that effect on anyone.” it is the safer assumption. 

“i have enough delusion in my life. if you tell me i’m something else, i might end up believing it and i don’t want to have to cope with that.”

[klarsynt]

oh, he's a dangerous one. he has all the looks of a proper sort of person, well put together and polished, clearly educated. but emil has learned those are the ones to watch out for and by god if there isn't something truly sinful in this man's eyes when they meet his. he looks a little to perfect on his knees for him as well. as if he truly is as comfortable there as he says. ❝ is that what i am? ❞ he murmurs lowly. ❝ another means to an end, huh? ❞ he is teasing him, but a part of emil does wonder...tom is on a bad date and emil is there and available, easy to use. he doesn't necessarily mind, not usually, and yet...

emil's fingers tighten in the man's hair for a moment when the wet warmth of his tongue finally greets his cock. he breathes out slowly. he allows his grip to loosen again, but not completely. he likes holding him there, feeling the strands between his knuckles even as he resists the urge to push him down further again his length. no, instead he's patient through the teasing until he is enveloped more completely.

a contented sigh escapes his lips. emil releases tom's hair finally so he can instead brush his fingers along his forehead. he traces over his brow bone down to his cheek. he hums thoughtfully before he says ❝ i don't think i'll be comparin' you to anyone, love. ❞ he rakes his fingers over his scalp again. ❝ prettier on your knees than anyone i've ever had. ❞

[stberggren]

best damn seat in the house, tom thinks, taking his time to look up at emil. he has always enjoyed watching the subtle changes in men’s faces the second there’s a mouth around their cock. when emil suggests he’s simply another means to an end he wants to laugh at the irony of it. he’s pretty sure that most people would consider the person on their knees the one being used. he is too preoccupied to actually laugh or say anything, but his eyes do roll back.

emil pulling at his hair is exactly the response he was hoping for. it urges him to stop his teasing and so he does, considering, for a second, letting him have full control of him. he continues in a slow, appreciatively pace, enjoying the weight and size of him in his mouth, familiarizing himself with the taste. he likes that it seems to make emil touch him like he is something too precious to break. when he talks like it too, tom has to draw back and have a proper look at him.

he takes him into his hand instead, not wanting them to lose momentum. “i think i misjudged you before,” he says in a way that is too serious to be just the sex talking, “while i’m sure you’ve had plenty… its obvious that you care too much to be exactly the type you look like you are. no offence.” rough hands, rough sex. sure, he can picture all that - only there appears to something else dominating him. he smiles and presses a few kisses to the inside of his thigh before making his way to his balls. “but also…” he hums against him, “you are either lying or terribly unlucky.” he doubts the latter, judging by the looks of the people he’d seen on stage with him thirty minutes ago, “either way i am just happy to be here.”

[stberggren]

@ofbizarre / @ofstage asked: oh, will you just let me in?

santiago's polished shoe keeps the door from closing right in his face. the corridor behind him seems relatively quiet and that is the only reason he opens the door a little wider. “do you know you’ll get me fucking evicted?” he huffily mutters when the blond insists on being let in. he briefly checks the time on his wristwatch; it is too late in the evening to pass off as a polite visit and still far too early for a discrete tete-a-tete. “it’s late. someone will have seen you come here.” tom points, at last letting him over the threshold and into his flat. he watches him move, coolly, battling the impulse to reach out and tow him through faster. 

tom shuts the door and leans his back against it. “i don’t bring people here. i make the people here nervous enough as it is. i don’t want to give them an excuse to have me evicted or arrested.” looking at santiago, rendered entirely different now against the backdrop of his home, he realizes that his onset of nerves has little to do with the scrutiny of his neighbors and everything to do with not being able to recall ever giving away his address. black holes in his memory are nothing new, but they are usually gaping and vast. he remembers most of his encounter with santiago in vivid detail, but not letting his full name or address slip. blond brows knit together inquisitively,  “but since you are here - and i don’t want you making a scene in the hallway - what do you want?”

even in the dimly lit room santiago’s eyes are unnaturally viridescent. the look in them is unintelligible, bruising, and still it feels like they are beckoning him. it is more obvious here in this light than it had been at the bar that he has never seen eyes quite like his. tom steps away from the door and into santiago’s personal space. he places a hand near the buttons of his coat and offers him something resembling a polite smile (although not entirely authentic). “if you are intending on staying, i need you to take off your coat and shoes.”

tom’s finger runs over the smooth surface of the first button, before he undoes it for him. then he moves on to the next and the next. “did you ask around for me?” he finally asks, letting the last button slip from its hole, “and how on earth did you go about finding a person with that kind of information?”. it feels like the logical explanation, really, but he fears it is more sinister than that. for all he knows he could have followed him home all those nights ago without him realising. he swallows and moves his hands to push the coat off his shoulders, “tell me."

[redmyeyes]

QUEER (2024) dir. Luca Guadagnino

[gaybuckybarnessss]

PAUL MESCAL & JOSH O'CONNOR The History of Sound (2025)

[klarsynt]

an endeared smile briefly finds its ways to his lips. he doesn't think he would ever find himself wanting this man to shut up, in fact he wants to hear his voice a little more. but rather than saying that he half-laughs. the sound rumbles between them as he reaches almost blindly for him, just trying to feel whatever warmth of his skin he can find. ❝ irresistible, huh? ❞ he is accustomed to words of praise but something about the way tom says it manages to make a thrill stir in his stomach otherwise less movable from others. ❝ that your way of sayin' you don't usually hook up with strangers in the dark? ❞

emil lets the other man create space between them despite it being the last thing he desires. the a dilation in his pupils, however, when he realizes what tom is doing. the sight of him on his knees for him, looking up with that cheeky little expression is almost too much to handle.

❝ fucking hell, ❞ he mutters, unable to tear his eyes away from his companion. emil moves his hand towards tom's hair and gently scrapes his fingers over his scalp. the touch grows firmer when he curls his grip around his locks, enough to steady, to control, but not enough to truly hurt. ❝ i guess i might owe you, ❞ he hums thoughtfully as he moves his other hand. emil runs his thumb over tom's bottom lip. it's getting hard to think with the blood rushing the opposite way of his brain. but even if he were thinking straight he doesn't believe he would be inclined to get out of tom's offer. he wants to see him in better light. his expression softens ❝ i'll take you somewhere real nice. better than this. ❞

[stberggren]

that lowly muttered fucking hell sends electric currents through him and cold, but not unpleasant, shivers down the back of his neck. he tips his head back a little, letting the man massage his fingers through his hair. he doesn’t mind the way he tugs at it either, letting out a soft gasp as he does. he almost forgets the question that he’s left hanging in the air since getting on his knees. he doesn’t want to tell him the truth: that fucking strangers in the dark is all he ever does, that this is different only in the sense that he had not gone out tonight with the sole intention of that happening, that this is a whole lot easier than the date he is supposed to be on currently. “if there’s an itch i usually don’t find that people, strangers, have to be particularly irresistible for me to fuck them in the dark…” tom shakes his head, grins, and returns to the task ahead.

he moves his hands to tug and let go of the elasticated band of emil’s underwear, enjoying the subtle sound of it smacking his skin. he then moves his head forward, enjoying the slightly resistance provided by the hands in his hair, kissing the outline of his shaft, from bottom to the top. “thank you,” he mumbles against him, in a way that makes him sound particularly bratty as he peers up at his eyes. he is, however, pretty keen on having more than just a couple of minutes with him here.

“since you do have people to compare me to i say i better make an effort..” he slowly pulls his underwear down, letting them fall as far down his leg as they want to without him having to make an effort to remove them entirely. he gives a sound of appreciation, hunger, when he sees him in all his naked glory. this will be no problem at all, he thinks, taking him in his hand and then darting his tongue across the tip of his cock, a prolonged bit of teasing before he takes him into his mouth. 

[klarsynt]

❝ good, ❞ he grins, devilish as ever ❝ neither do i. ❞ that much is the truth. he has never been a quitter in anything. he couldn't have been to be in this industry, to have made it this far. he came from nothing. it has taught him to value what he has, to hold on to each second and know when to let it go. he does the same with people. emil feels the warmth of this man beneath his fingertips and wanders how long he will get to know it.

his brows arch at the bold question. he suppresses a laugh at the way tom almost seems to have surprised himself. ❝ you really want to know? ❞ he murmurs lowly, fingers digging into the man's hips just a little. perhaps more than a little. he leans in close again, mouth hovering close to his ❝ do i really seem that greedy? ❞

amusement lingers in his eyes as he moves a hand free to push up against tom's abdomen. he grazes up along to his chest as he pulls his other hand down to finally palm at his cock. ❝ is that what you want? ❞ he asks, head tilting to touch his lips to tom's jaw. ❝ 'cause i'm sure those lips will look just as pretty filled with my dick as they are mouthing off. ❞

[stberggren]

he doesn’t fully understand his curiosity about the ballerino’s sexual escapades, but here he is being carried away by it. perhaps it solely down to the way he reacts: how devilishly he laughs and how it only seems to be spurring him on. “if my assumptions are unreasonable…” he has to stop talking to kiss the outer corner of the man’s mouth when he hovers closer, “you can just ask me to shut up.” or, preferably, shut him up without any words being used. 

a series of sounds emerges when he touches him, his hips rolling forward to accommodate the touch. “no, you don’t come across greedy,” he confesses, hoarsely, “you come across irresistible.” tom doesn’t consider himself particularly easy either and so has to come down to that: emil possesses something inherently irresistible and so, logically, he must have people falling to their knees for him whenever he needs them to. 

“something in your answer tells me that i’m not the first person you’ve brought here,” he smiles, letting go of him and moving his hand to carefully move that as well. he pushes him back to create space between them, but then he doesn’t hesitate getting on his knees (although he does consider, briefly, if the floor isn’t dirty enough in there to leave a stain on them). tom runs his hands appreciatively down his muscular thighs and then onto the back of them. cheekily, he looks up at him and says, “does this paint a clear picture of what it might look like or do i need to illustrate?” he ignores the question about him wanting this because he thinks that is pretty clear already, “if i do a good job, will you take me somewhere nice after? i did abandon my date for you, after all.”

[klarsynt]

❝ do you? ❞ he half snorts with a raised brow. amusement ripples across his features at the other man's teasing, though he has a feeling there is some truth behind it, some sincerity in his triumph over emil's hesitations. ❝ i'm sure you're right about a lot of things, don't let it get to your head. ❞ a dry jest of his own before he lets his muscles relax a little more into the mattress and pillows.

some semblance of somberness seeps back into his system. tom's concern warms him far more than he cares to admit, more than he knows how to show. ❝ you don't need to worry about that, ❞ he murmurs lowly. ❝ but if it will make you worry less... ❞ he'll try it. even if he hates it. he is accustomed to discomfort. ❝ i do miss the sunrise, ❞ he admits. ❝ sometimes i linger outside a little longer than i should just to get the faintest peek of it at the horizon. ❞

[stberggren]

“i’d like to say it goes away, but i’m not sure i am convinced it will.” the night and the quiet appeals to him, but he does miss daylight at times. he prefers not to remember what life they miss, being awake when everyone sleeps, “you really are daredevil, aren’t you?” it isn’t surprising to hear him say he pushes his luck. he’s proven today just how stubborn he can be when he wants something - even if it is risky. emil isn’t making much less worried, that is for sure.

he turns his body more towards him, sliding on leg in-between his and burying his face in the side of his neck again. when breathes he faintly tastes his skin and he is slightly concerned about pushing his luck. he goes quiet, waiting for a reaction to come.

[ofstage]

the rotten smile which spreads across his thin lips is far from welcoming. it blooms from the amusement tom's discomfort apparently offers. he is of his own creation --- santiago is bound to this young man in ways previously unknown to him. had his maker survived the coven's judgement and perhaps the actor would have been able to learn what it meant to truly belong to another; he too was still learning about the doom brought by this unearthly coupling. thomas clings to his wrist as a sign of resistance and yet, he does not shove him away. instead he lingers there, suspended over a line he seemed eager to watch be crossed. "oh yes, and you despise it so, don't you, tommy?" purred santiago as he tilted his head, as if to better align their lips. "to be held like this." his voice became low and gravely. "by me."

this is a cruel game of chicken he plays: he tugs at the unspoken desires of his fledgling, hoping to watch him come undone despite his clear annoyance. but santiago is unkind. he does not take the initiative. not even in such intimate moments, in which their blood boils and their flesh cries, does he guide tom. no, he is a maker of unethical practices --- santiago will only hold the door open for his fledgling to cross.

and when the turning of dust is brought up, the english man bats his lashes and pouts, successfully mocking that desperately sad sentiment. "alas, i am nothing but unkind. rotten, right down to the core." the hand which had been shackled by the others' fingers is yanked away from tom's hold. it preoccupies itself instead with fixing the young man's bloodied shirt collar. "i suppose i must keep a close eye on you 'til nightfall." yellowish eyes shift to glance at his face. lips curl into a smirk. there's no escaping him.

[stberggren]

if there is a choreography to their dance tom has hardly learned it. he has the feeling of stringing along, simply mimicking the movement of his maker to the best of his ability. it shouldn’t startle him, but it does, when santiago turns the scene into one where tom is acting out of some all-consuming desire for him. it makes him laugh, bitterly, like there is not a grain of truth to it. he would not be where he is if there wasn’t. “you flatter yourself, old man,” frankly, he is too depleted to put up a real fight even though he knows santiago expects it from him. 

it frustrates him how effortlessly he frees himself and how he simply allows him do as he pleases. he continues to clench his hands, now holding nothing but air, feeling his nails digging deep into his palm. it keeps him for reaching out when he touches him again amid his mockery. “at least you are aware of your many, irritating faults…” refusing to be or seem grateful, he shakes his head in response, “suit yourself.”

tom turns his attention back to the now sheet-clad corpse on the ground behind them “this your idea of a clean up? cover him in a sheet? what’s next? putting him in the closet? sehr einfallsreich,” he mumbles and pushes past him knowing, that if they stay standing like this, there is a good chance that he will find some way of turning this night into even more of shit-show. "yes, you better keep an eye on me since you might learn a thing or two."

[stberggren]

tom being comfortable in english but having the cutest mix of a swedish and german accent

[klarsynt]

❝ i'll make that kind of time, ❞ he responds with a firm confidence in his voice. the corner of his mouth twitches with a smirk that just won't break free but lingers beneath the surface. he knows he is a menace and if they had all night he would prove to this man just how true the accusation is. for now, he settles for this.

emil laughs at the comment bout his attire but it's cut short when he draws in a deep breath at the graze of his hand. he instinctively moves just a little closer, chasing the feeling of toms fingers toying at his clothing, pressing against the hardness just beneath. he leans in towards tom's mouth, though he doesn't bridge the gap. he looks at him through half-lidded eyes and allows his hands to wander more firmly against tom's erection as well. ❝ i might be. you lookin' to help me relax? ❞

he bumps his nose teasingly against tom's. tilting his head, emil graze his mouth against the man's jaw then bares his teeth to nip at him. he releases tom's cock so he can graze his hand back up his torso, following every dip and curve. ❝ i'm not so exhausted i can't do a little more work. ❞

[stberggren]

he wonders what his directors will say; if they have plenty experience with one of their principle dancers disappearing in the middle of the show, only to be found in the arms of some fortunate audience member. perhaps his level of calmness tells him all he needs to know. he laughs into his mouth, trying to ignore the fact that the thought makes him feel unreasonably jealous. thankfully, his brain short-circuits when he palms his erection. he isn’t even sure at what point he’s gotten this hard, but now he is too aware.

“that depends..” he says, slowly, while retrieving his own hand and placing it over the one caressing the lower part of his stomach, “i don’t much starting things i can’t finish.” he spreads out his fingers so that he can weave them through emil’s and bring their hands back down to his hip. although he leads them, emil’s fingers ignite something deep in his belly and he feels as though his whole body becomes covered in goosebumps in the process. when he lets go, he makes sure emil’s hand sits right above the fabric, making him wait, while tom properly unzips and slides his trousers down to his thighs.

blue eyes peer up at him interrogatingly from under his glasses, “how many people have you fucked in here?” he blurts out before he can think twice about what it sounds like, “or do you just get them on their knees and have them blow you?” anodd way of asking: how do you want me?

[klarsynt]

he is at least somewhat conscious of the need to not crush tom beneath him, but he allows himself to remain there atop of him for a little while longer to catch his breath. he joins in the other man's laugher, the choice of word causing an extra chuckle. emil blindly presses a kiss against the back of tom's shoulder. he can taste a little saltiness from sweat upon his lips after and he instinctively runs his tongue along his bottom lip, savoring it.

❝ yes, that's exactly the word i was looking for, ❞ he says dryly. emil presses his forehead against tom's shoulder and releases a heavy breath before he gathered enough strength to pull out of him. they are both beyond sticky and sweaty and he hardly cares. in a few minutes he might insist on using his shower. but for now, he rolls to the side and sinks into the mattress next to tom. his shoulder presses into his and he turns his head so he can look at him properly. ❝ real friendly. ❞

emil snorts and moves a hand to rest against tom's hip, fingers brushing lightly at warm skin. his voice is a little quieter again when he speaks, more sincere ❝ you're somethin' else, you know that? ❞

[stberggren]

tom could lay there forever just looking at emil. he swallows hard as he kisses his shoulder and licks his lips in the most obscene manner. it would not be exaggerating if he said he is unlike any other man he has ever been with. unapologetic in a way that makes it all better. he’s still staring at him when he removes himself, wanting nothing more than to protest. he grunts unhappily, hating the sudden feeling of emptiness. he’s concerned the hollow in him will fill up with shame or sadness. 

overwhelmed he just waits for emil to settle and talk to him. he shakes his head when he compliments him, reaching down to collect the fingers brushing his hip. he squeezes them gently before removing them. “you don’t have to say that,” he says as he, too, rolls onto his side so that they come face to face. he puts a finger near his mouth before trailing it down to his jaw, “i’d rather you didn’t get my hopes up.” he wants to believe that he isn’t going to leave in the morning, but chances are that this is all just temporary. emil feels too much like a dream for him to let himself be carried away, “just say nothing.”

[klarsynt]

emil doesn't even attempt to repress the small smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth. smug. pleased. he likes the way it feels to be the subject of tom's concern. if nothing else, tonight's exercise has given them a reason for a certain level of emotional and mental intimacy previously untapped. nothing to bond two vampires like one biting a chunk out of the other. ❝ keep your blood, i worked very hard to put it in you, ❞ he half-snorts as he allows an arm to press more securely against tom's back.

sincerity bleeds back into his demeanor. tom echoes words back to him—not just words but sentiment and earnestness—and it makes him even more compelled to accept his offer. or his entreaty. it's both, entwined together. ❝ i'd like to try, ❞ he assures him with a firmness. ❝ you trusted me.  least i can do is do the same. besides, i probably should try to embrace what i am now a little more. can't exactly undo it. if you think the coffin is important than i trust you. ❞

[stberggren]

the urgency of the act, and his reluctance to receive it, has perhaps overshadowed the fact that, at present, they share the same blood. largely that stranger’s blood, but undoubtedly some of emil’s must have fused with it too. out of all the innuendos, it is the one that is probably is the least intentional, that has heat rising to his neck and face again. he makes as soft gasping sound when emil wraps his arm tighter around him.

tom buries his face in his chest, feeling the soft vibrations of emil’s taking. he is proud, a least a little, that he has convinced him that the coffin might benefit him and he’s glad if it means he’ll take better care of himself. not that tom is one to talk. even so, he smiles smugly against his shirt before lifting his head somewhat to look up at him. it is an awkward position, especially considering how he feels like every inch of his body hurts, but it is well worth it looking at emil’s face. tom has half a thought to kiss him, his jawline or his mouth, but he can only look. “i like it when you admit i’m right,” he teases, softly, “even if you can’t embrace it fully, it does not mean that you should suffer for it. i know it is daunting, but i would hate to see you turned to dust.”

[donner-maysilee]

DREW STARKEY as EUGENE ALLERTON Queer (2024) Dir. Luca Guadagnino

[stberggren]

@ofstage asked: [26]. after a pleasant night out together, sender asks: "can i kiss you goodnight?"

the man, santiago, had cut a fine figure even under the club’s unflattering light. even in the garish orange light his eyes had remained a visible shade of green. tom had noticed them the second he had entered the room and had continued to feel them look at him all throughout the night. unsettling. fascinating. perhaps a figment of his imagination. tom had ignored it for awhile, then switched his seat to be sure he was looking, before, at last, after several glasses of wine and a handful of cigarettes, his curiosity had won and he had walked over to sit in a chair nearby him. it had felt like being summoned.

up close he looked divine. his thin lips permanently paused in a manner that made him look amused, his thin, bleached hair greased back, but not enough that a few hairs hadn’t strayed. tom was pleased when he had taken the initiative to speak. by the time he did, it felt like tom already heard his voice before. it surprised him when the man insisted they hadn’t met before, but then again, how could he have forgotten him? 

tonight isn’t the first night he’s walked out of his establishment with some slightly older man. although he had simply gone because he hadn’t had the energy to walk himself back home, after the library, perhaps there had been some other, more subconscious reason. at least he is not surprised that the night takes them where it does and he does end up walking side by side with santiago. santiago taking him home under the guise of politeness (he imagines).

tom walks close to him, close enough to feel their elbows brushing occasionally and close enough to smell the leather his jacket is made of and the product in his hair. it only adds to the attraction. he studies him in the lamplight, listens to his stories mostly. it must have sent enough of a signal because, when they near his street, he tugs at his arm and leads him away from the lit pavement. he could be rougher and still tom wouldn’t have protested. he has enough wine in him that he sees no problem in it, no danger.

when they stop moving, tom finds the nearest to lean back against. he reaches for a cigarette in his pocket when santiago asks to kiss him. he goes on to light it, an amused smile on his face, taking a drag or two before responding. he looks at the man’s lips, like he’s taking them into consideration even with his mind fully made up. “i suppose that is not too much to ask,” tom almost hums his words and reaches to tug at his jacket to steer him closer. he continues with an arched brow, “is that all you want? a kiss goodnight?”