#beneviolencia ( emil mendel )

[bruisedconscience]

@beneviolencia

Concept: Emil gives Barry a short, pissed off command in German he knows Barry will understand by that point in their…arrangement (sit down, come here, etc)

Barry, surprised that he knows what Emil wants and, equal parts pissed off, seems to almost not do it before…eventually…complying

[bruisedconscience]

ages and ages ago, @beneviolencia asked for our muses to do the pose from here. I finally sketched it out this morning. I hope you like these dorks! They were fun to draw, when I could finally be arsed to draw them. 😌

Click for better quality quality, I accidentally drew it huge & it's potato quality on my tablet <3

[bruisedconscience]

@beneviolencia​ for Emil!

As the phone line rang, Teddy brushed his fingers above his lip, smoothing his moustache down. 

“Hello,” he said lightly into the microphone of his earbuds after the line went live, “This is Dr. Murphy. I’m returning a call from Mr. Mendel asking to set up a consultation for a...Mr. Berkman?” 

He hadn’t given much thought to someone asking for an appraisal on behalf of another person — really, Teddy assumed this was a caretaker/patient-type of scenario, or maybe a partner/partner situation, given the different surnames listed in the brief, confident voicemail he was left late last night. 

[bruisedconscience]

@beneviolencia I found my old tablet pen halfway through drawing studies of ice prince and ice box (and I kind of like the new pen better rip!!)

(click for better quality!)

[bruisedconscience]

talkin with sleazygoin abt n.sfw lists characters write out in-universe and @beneviolencia… I am thinkin about Them… 💓💓

[bruisedconscience]

@ barry berkman : [ PHONE ] - signed emil mendel

n.sfw tension asks | accepting

[ PHONE ] : while on the phone with receiver, sender flirts teasingly during the call.

A burner phone, to be disposed of before entering the airport for his return flight, is tucked between Barry’s shoulder and his ear. He juggles a bottle of water and two bags of chips on his way out the small convenience store six miles from the airport.

“Yeah,” he answers, his voice just on the edge of light and airy, as though he was unsure whether or not he could exit work-mode, “a little ahead of schedule. There was an opening and I got it done sooner. Just gonna wait at the airport for a bit. Didn’t wanna miss check-out at the hotel, so…”

Barry goes still, then, the syrupy drawl on the other end of the phone barely different from Emil’s regular tone: just as pointed and determined as usual, but sweeter, like hardened amber loosening back down into sap.

Barry swallows.

“Yeah, I… I wanted to do it for you as fast as I could.” Barry works his hand into his pocket for his car keys and nearly drops them from Emil’s thinly veiled proposals. He’s trying to unlock the car faster. “Y-yes, of course. Um, I’ll get home a-and we can eat, and um, we can… Uh huh!” His pitch is all over the place, Emil only needing to use one or two buzz words to turn Barry into a needy mess.

Psychologically, it was both an impressive feat and incredibly fucking stupid.

“I will,” he answered too fast, “I-I do. I… do…” In the car with the door closed, Barry’s face burns bright pink. He swallows again and switches which hand is holding the phone to start the car and, very softly, he consents with a, “yes please.”

[bruisedconscience]

@beneviolencia· 

            ——     as  the  phone  sounds  emil  doesn’t  give  it  much  thought,    the  noise  aligning  with  the  ever-present  ringing  in  his  ears  without  cancelling  each  other  out .    it  takes  a  moment  to  convince  himself  to  stop  working  and  look  at  the  caller  id  but  as  he  does,    fingers  immediately  press  the  accept  button,    allowing  for  the  therapist’s  disembodied  voice  to  flood  the  room .    only  once  the  line  goes  silent  again  does  emil  finally  speak,    his  own  tone  harsh  and  clipped  leaves  no  room  for  interpretation .    this  is  a  dangerous  business  and  while  necessary  for  his  lover,    every  cutting  word  leaving  emil’s  mouth  poses  a  threat  to  the  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  line .      ❛      mendel,      it’s    german .      i    called    on    behalf    of    my    ——    partner    but,      first,      we’ll    have    to    have    a    short    talk .      you    understand    of    course    that    this    is    all    strictly    confidential .      ❜

                           theodore  murphy  holds  a  certain  reputation,    a  man  who  takes  on  cases  that  can’t  go  to  anyone  else  and  such,    the  only  viable  option  amongst  monster .    and  both  barry  and  emil  are  such  creatures,    with  claws  and  fangs  who  walk  the  shadows  and  whose  shoes  leave  bloody  prints .    but  for  that  same  exact  reason  they’re  different  and  while  one  copes  without  ever  dirtying  his  fingers,    the  other  follows  orders  and  tears  himself  apart .    and  while  his  soldier  is  of  great  use,    his  lover,    nay,    husband  these  days  shouldn’t  have  such  weaknesses .    what  an  odd  realisation  for  a  man  made  of  ice .      ❛      tell    me,      where    did    you    study,      mister    murphy ?      ❜      (  the  lack  of  proper  title  is  intentional,    a  test  of  character  so  to  speak .  )      ❛      furthermore,      i'll    be    needing    a    full    list    of    your    qualifications    and    credentials    sorted    and    presented    in    chronological    order .      you    can    simply    e-mail    me    the    list .      ❜

Ah, he’d enunciated the wrong syllable in the man’s surname... “Apologies,” Teddy murmured before the conversation continued to flow at a barreling speed. He raised his eyebrows up, surprised by the tact he was met with. People weren’t usually so sure of themselves when they called into his office. Often they were threatening and angry, sure, but not...so calculated. 

                 “Of course,” he replied, “nothing we say leaves the telephone.” That, he was more than used to. He’s then grilled for details he’s all too used to giving. 

                He clocks the Mister, but he’s never been one to shove his credentials in anybody’s face for clout or pride. His clients, he’ll always reassure and request they use his title only for psychological benefit, but... This was not a client, so far as Teddy could tell. Perhaps Emil Mendel could still become his client, at the end of this, but... 

                “I earned my Doctorate in Counseling Psychology from Princeton in 2010,” he says, a lowly-burning pride in his chest despite the thrashing Princeton got from the general public. It was a good school, dammit! “Obtained my license in New York, after registering more than 1,500 hours working with all different sorts of clients, in both research and clinical settings...” He pulls a pen and a pad of paper over, propping them against his knee. His soft smile could almost always be heard in his tone. “To which e-mail address would you prefer I send that list?” 

                Teddy jots some notes down about the conversation that drew his attention— terse, thorough, conc.’d abt breaches in trust, partner: context?—and he leans back a bit on his comfy sofa. He never asked what brought people to him. How they found out about him wasn’t always through a criminal network, and prodding at the bear could mean exposing his...looser constraints with regards to his license... 

                “Would you like to give me any details about the nature of assistance Mr. Berkman’s looking to receive?” Softly. “No specifics are necessary, but having a bit of a,” a looping gesture with his hand Emil cannot see, “bird’s eye view could help us work together a bit better.”