【 @metanoen | Emma's Fingers Slink And Then Pull; Scalp Captured From Behind, Tilting His Head Back
【 @metanoen | emma's fingers slink and then pull; scalp captured from behind, tilting his head back and back until his throat is exposed. up on her tip-toes, so they can see eye to eye, and her smile is all red lips and teeth. " thane, darling, i'm bored. " and then she releases him, just like that, watching his hair spring back into place as she steps around him. face to face, a painted blue nail taps his nose. " do something about it, won't you ? i think we should get away somewhere. somewhere i don't have to smell logan's reek from across the city or listen to summers' latest lecture on politics. just us. " | unprompted.
mind touch; intermingling—— dancing. a song of them / a waltz of empathy 'pon telepathy. it tangles and twists, telling thane of emma's presence. ( of her strut, of her prowling. ) then, she comes. digits like claws, catching hold, pulling forth prey ... a lioness. grey locks part, silky and loose, a warmth seeping from her laid claim, to him—— to body, to mind, to heart, to soul. thin lips curl into a smile, an apparition of his delight. ( it's kind, yet mischievous lurks beneath it all. ) centuries of wisdom, the cunning of a shrewd king lurks beneath all acts. it defines him. it becomes him. &. he never felt more like a king than when he's in her grasp.
silver eyes worship, silver eyes adore, assessing each note and tone. ( she is art. carved &. perfect. ) drawing eyes, making them yearn for touch—— yet knowingly, she denies. a twinge of disappointment rings out, still, nonetheless gaze adulates her when she appears. pupils, thin slits, grow wide and a light rumble begins in the king's chest. he lays claim; he hunts now. step brings them closer, arms looping loosely around her waist. stormy hues gleam, something hungry beneath pools of quick silver. forms press closer, warmth ebbing between them. it's greedy—— a greed only royals might taste.
❛ that's dangerous. you get oh so tricky when you get bored. ❜ laugh comes gentle, only so tender with her. giving her a peer behind porcelain mask, letting her see each gear clink and whirr &. glimpse beast hidden within cages of eloquence. ( it hunts her. prowling the depths mind, it brushes against thin prison bars, eager to reach ... to pounce. ) ❛ you must think the world of me to give much such a tall order. we both know logan's stench could reach the hells themselves. ❜ as for summers' ... those lectures never truly end.
cheek brushes against her own, gentle although insistent. nudging her head to side, exposing same tread of neck she did so sweetly to him. lips trace beautiful jaw, nipping and kissing where he pleases. he follows curve from back to forth, leaving no inch unclaimed—— tender longing, devouring need. it chases itself in every action. an ouroboros of wants and needs. then, he brings himself closer to her pretty neck—— close enough to hear faint drum of pulse. warm breath sits over frail veins, so frail ... so exposed. then, it's thane's turn to retreat, to flee from the final moments, offering a kiss on her cheek instead.
❛ murozia's lovely this time of year. ❜ and to see emma clad in murozian silks ... sounds quite delightful. ❛ i'll make the arrangements. ❜
More Posts from Amcssing and Others
CLARK / @amcssing ——— a blur of azure, a flicker of red, a dash of gold—— it’s the roar of wind, the tearing of sound then the chill of the tundra. crystal shards stacked high, threatening to pierce heaven itself yet … they would never. gently it holds the world aloft, an icy place of solitude and respite, a place where even heroes might rest: a fortress. ears perk, catch the sound of clicking heels, the gentle shift of blonde hair, the sound of plush lips made stern. a boom—— a clap of thunder, the roar that announces the elation of flight before he appears. clark hovers, weightless, blues peering at her with a stars luminosity. warm, inviting, kind. boots tap the ground gentle, no longer content to linger above … no, eager to stand beside. cape swishes, faint traces of wear, a battle fought and won. strong fingers, warm like flame cup her cheeks, forehead resting against hers. ‘I’m starting to think you like the fortress of solitude way more than I do, Emma. Trying to live up to the last name?’
SHE FEELS HIM BEFORE she hears him, sees him, before the wind shifts and suddenly he is here. summer fruits / warm flannel / old folk music / sunsets. her silence interrupted but for once, it is welcome, this cacophony of thoughts running mile - a - minute . the moment her mind can touch his, the rigidness of her shoulders seems to melt.
lashes flutter shut, brushing the cheeks lifted with touch. his hands are calloused----how are they so soft ? questions she'll never ask because she doesn't care for an answer. first time she's had that thought since her arrival, which was, how long ago ? emma loses track of time here with an unnerving ease. or perhaps comforting ease.
-- " can you blame me ? "
it isn't a real question / he would never. he would never blame her for her loneliness, her wondering. and wondering she has been: her curse is to think, after all. to think of her responsibilities, her loves, her life. her failures. broken children, broken heroes. for every time she attempts to protect the metahumans, does she do anything but paint targets upon their backs ? her heart so open, yet caged.
he frees it. instantly. emma looks up into eyes full oif hope and the glacier melts, so does her gaze. a forehead 'gainst chest. something solid to lean against / not violent, but fierce. unmoving. she is diamond, but he is her rock. holding her down to the ground despite his ability to fly. perhaps that's what drew her in, after all these years; someone with a genuine want to hold her without suffocating. protect, not control. an open mind both literally and figuratively, easy to forgive and easier to trust.
his mindsong hums against hers, and she doesn't read them, just listens. enjoys the comfort of his alien mind with hers, his very human embrace.
-- " ... i apologise. i should have had batman inform you i was leaving. you didn't need to rush here so suddenly. "
me being strangled by someone who rightfully wants me dead: lmaooo i can't believe how bad u wanna fuck me
thane's love language is helping him maintain his dreads. thanks.
im gonna be fixing up tags, moving info for old ocs and touching up my carrd then i think the voices telling me i can't rest yet will stop. then, maybe some actual writing since i slept good
So what I'm learning is I need to deep-dive into their comics and story because the Flash is actually a ridiculously decent mentor by the looks of it.
At the far end of the street, on my side, was the silhouette of a man, dancing. It was a strange dance, similar to a waltz, but he finished each “box” with an odd forward stride. I guess you could say he was dance-walking, headed straight for me.
[…] He was very tall and lanky, and wearing an old suit. He danced closer still, until I could make out his face. His eyes were open wide and wild, head tilted back slightly, looking off at the sky. His mouth was formed in a painfully wide cartoon of a smile.
— The Smiling Man
Oh this is a random discussion but thane loves games like civilization. Building a nation? Governing things? Less of the stress because it’s digital. Yeah when he’s off work good luck prying him from civ.
@deadlincs / Higu :
At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'.
that earns a guffaw from the archangel; it's clangorous and grumbles like a grinding stone. yet still, it's sweet. it carries the sound of the heavens and sweetens itself with their succor. fallen or not, there's an elegance to it no mortal could hope to emulate. it's timeless —— brimmed with complex feelings, most bitter. this might be the first time he's humored higu with his attention since beginning his crossword. even in the overcast sky, dawn's light rests in his gaze. it flickers none too different than a blooming flame. if one peers close enough, if one dares to pick at his visage, they might even note the gilding around his iris. a thin rim of gold none too different than a halo —— albeit more weighty.
❛ y'know, most people try to avoid listening to the devil on their shoulders. ❜ he begins languidly —— words punctuated with a gentle hiss. ❛ if i'm giving you advice, ain't it a given that i'm lyin'? or you're fucked beyond compare. oh, it's probably that one, huh? ❜
prompt, not accepting.
