"Thank you, Blanc…" he croaks. Blanc seems momentarily struck by whatever it is he sees in Jud's eyes, but less than a second later, he's schooled his features again. Calm. Collected. Fond. "Good," he says. Jud gets the impression that Blanc had expected more of an argument. But what argument does Jud have left to give? Tomorrow, he's sure they'll find him—embarrassment, shame, and guilt, all running roughshod over him once again without Blanc there to make them seem comically trivial. But right now? It's all been washed away.
Psalms 51:7-15 by (me!) killerqueer
(s/o @zestoflemon for their take on Jud’s neck tattoo 💖)


















