Inspired by @androgynouspenguinexpert's art of Blake looking like the broken pathetic man we know and love.
As for why Bestie can hear Blake's thoughts... maybe they're a Telepath? Or at least kinda skilled at Telepathy magic? Idk... what are you, a cop?
Rated: T
737 words (read here or on ao3)
Blake leaned over the bathroom sink in the shitty motel room they'd rented after he managed to convince the Sovereign who inhabited his body that he and his "pet" – as D'Deridahn called you – needed time to rest. Blackened hands gripped the edges of the porcelain bowl. He looked up to see his reflection morph into the face of another, unfamiliar, unhuman, unfeeling.
"We're human," he appealed quietly, not wanting to wake you – not knowing you were already awake – "We need sleep. We're no use to you if we collapse from exhaustion or hunger."
At first there was no response, the weight of the silence smothering him as the entity considered his plea. "One night. No more."
"...thank you." He forced himself to say, the words choked him, leaving behind the taste of ash and rot.
He'd gotten them this far, kept you safe up until this point. But how much longer could he succeed?
As long as he'd need to. You knew that.
But not a moment more. You also knew that.
You flinched as he stripped off his shirt, taking stock of the bruises and blotches that marred his skin, the way his broken finger had swollen and started to turn a concerning colour with the lack of proper medical attention. D'Deridahn had since put it back together, but many more "lessons" had occured between then and now, and clearly the Gravitic Sovereign knew nothing of a gentler method of instruction, no knowledge of balancing the stick with the carrot.
The Sovereign didn't need to, not when all of his previous subordinates bowed down to him under the malicious weight of pain and suffering.
If you thought about it anymore than you'd already allowed yourself, you'd go insane. Of course Blake would have the terrible luck to end up with such a malicious and vindictive... ally. You didn't have much hope for whatever outcome came your way.
But maybe you deserved it, you supposed; having been the reason he would have gone this far, this low. It was all for you, so maybe you should burn. You never stopped him, never once tried to talk him out of it, just guilelessly agreeing to becoming part of something you could never understand.
You continued to watch through the crack in the door as Blake stared at himself, his eyes sunken and unfocused from the lack of sleep and the concerning number of times he'd almost blacked out. At least his nose had stopped bleeding. That had been your main concern throughout your journey so far.
Seers might be able to contain a piece of Sovereignty, but a human body was still just that... human.
"I told you it was going to be okay... that's the first time I've lied to you that wasn't about my powers. Before all of this, I promised to keep you safe, but now? Now I don't know if I can... I have to, but I'm afr-" the Seer's thoughts spiralled further and further. Despite his attempts to look like he was handling things well, you knew the stress he was under, could finally see it pushing him beyond his limits.
No matter how he spun it, things weren't looking good. Blake was forced to see his own patheticness, washed out under the fluorescent lighting of the motel bathroom.
He never wanted you to see him like this, a broken man unable to cope with the burdens forced upon him, that he chose for himself. But it wasn't up to him anymore.
Deep in his self-doubt, he was startled back into reality when a pair of arms looped themselves around his waist.
He couldn't help but feel loved with how you avoided squeezing the worst of the bruises, hands delicately holding him like he might break right in front of their eyes. The gentle press of your cheek on his shoulder blade, the way your heartbeat drummed against his spine, it all added up, soothing the ache that couldn't even be healed by magical means.
You could see everything, every cataclysmic breakdown, every mottled disfiguration, every hopeless prediction, and yet you stayed.
"I'm here." You reminded him in a tired, faraway voice. "I'm okay, just like you promised."
You stayed. You were still here. He hadn't failed... yet.
He had done everything in his power to keep you safe, so you would do what you could to save him, even for one night.
Hello! I’m Aether and this is my writing blog! I’ve been writing this story for about a little less than a year now and I wanted a place to share it as well as compile resources for myself and share art!
I am 25, trans masc, Latino, disabled and neurodivergent all of which inform my writing!
I’ll be sharing snippets and such sometimes but I just wanted a place to compile everything
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The time of year has come and gone. What's done is done. The sand has run out of the hourglass, and gone back on the shelf. Such a shame, isn't it? All that unfinished business. They say it's bad luck to disturb the dead.
Was this how she saw me? I looked so at ease. My eyes were glittering blue instead of stormy grey, and they didn’t have the shadows under them that I was so used to seeing.
Happy 22! This is a very light-hearted take on this prompt but I hope you enjoy ^^
Hush wakes up to a very concerning discovery and asks Doc to help.
This is an 18+ fic! MDNI!
Read the full fic here.
Doc stirred, reaching across the sheets for the man who had been in their bed when they’d fallen asleep. It wasn’t the first time Hush had stayed over and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Still, as their hand moved over the sheets, he was gone. The bed was still warm from where his body had been so they knew it hadn’t been too long. They sighed and threw back the sheets, wincing as their bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor. They blinked a few times, trying to get their eyes to focus.Â
Light was shining from under the bathroom door, the sliver a beacon in the dark bedroom. They got up and stumbled to it, attempting to push it open. It was locked. They stepped back confused, he never locked the door. He didn’t even really need the bathroom but Hush had taken to it after wondering why Doc went into the small room so often. They tried the handle one more time, jiggling the handle to no avail.Â
“Hush? What’s going on? Why’s the door locked?” Their voice was thick with sleep and they cleared it, trying to put more authority behind their tone. Him being locked behind a door made them nervous. They heard the lock click and the door cracked open. Hush’s face came into view, he looked nervous, worried.Â
“Doc? I think I need help.” His voice was low, like he was worried someone might hear him. Doc leaned against the frame, crossing their arms over their chest. Hush sighed, opening the door an inch more. “Can you come in?”Â
Doc obeyed, slipping into the bathroom as Hush made enough room for them to do so. He sat on the edge of the tub, face flushed and fear across his face. Doc leaned against the counter, waiting for an explanation.Â
“I don’t know what this is. It started when we were sleeping in the bed and it will not go away. What should I do? I think this must be what Vega felt when he died. Or my body is trying to tell me that something is coming.” He finally relaxed his posture, moving his hands to either side of him and spreading his legs slightly. His hard erection was poking up through his sweatpants. Doc blinked, unsure of how to react. “I think I’m dying and it would only be proper to say goodbye if you can’t help.”Â
“I— you need help? With that?” They stifled a laugh, pressing their palm to their mouth to avoid showing their smirk. Doc looked up at him from where he was sitting, the ghost of a pout on his lips. He shoved his sweatpants down to his thighs, his cock against his stomach. His breath came a little heavier and he lifted a hand to touch it but hesitated.Â
“Is it going to kill me? It feels like it might. This is how rigor mortis starts, right? I’ve read about this before, I thought it was only part of death for humans.” Hush scrunched his face up, seemingly trying to focus on making the erection go away. He sighed after a moment, looking back up at Doc. Still hiding a smile, Doc nodded and moved towards the door.Â
hey man. hey. just letting you know. in another life okay. i would be your girl. maybe we'd even keep all our promises just us against the world. okay dude in another life right. i would make you stay. so i dont have to say you were the one that got away
Grouchy Vampire Tattoo Artist | Armand Lopez | A Redacted Audio OC
Posting some OC content now that I have art for some of them. The art is by my dearest @androgynouspenguinexpert ! More info under the cut.
Armand is a 72 year old Vampire who was turned when he was 27 during a drug deal gone wrong that resulted in him being left for dead. The vampire Desdemona, a woman turned in the late 1700s, who would go on to marry the monarch Baz, making Armand vampire royalty by marriage. He adjusts to vampiric life fairly well as he was a bit of a drunk/night owl during his human life. He continues to use his human skills in art and becomes a tattoo artist who travels to various venues to give tattoos. He still enjoys the taste of alcohol after turning and frequents many bars in Dahlia where he meets Alzir. The pair eventually start dating after he takes an interest in the innate way Alzir seems to know what he’s feeling, something he is not used to. He is friends with Noah, the House of Baz prince and the pair are close friends.
