i like my adult media to have complex, adult characters "that character is irredeemable now because [insert moral failing here]" have you ever made a bad decision? have you ever hurt anyone? have you ever made a mistake? are YOU irredeemable? are YOU not worthy of atonement? what about love?

…but in my head Lincoln is MASSIVE. Crazy tall, yes, but also SOLID. He has to be, to account for the weight of gravity. He’s just BIG. But he’s also hella shy, and everyone is always watching him, which he has shown to be hyper sensitive to.

Logical conclusion?

Lincoln slouches and tries to make himself as small as possible, which is why he always sits. He always wears hoodies, and hides in the deep hood so he doesn’t have to see all the eyes that follow him.

the damihux pill. you can take up to one billion a day

when he saw them get picked up by that shade, their body going limp as their life was drained out of them. was there a moment, a horrible split second where he thought he was too late? 

then he was cradling them, trying so hard to heal them, but it wasn’t working. he learned healing magic to help them, so that he could heal them like he couldn’t after adam. but it didn’t matter, because there was nothing he could do. sam said they didn’t have long, and he could see it. he could feel their muscles getting weaker by the second, see the focus and clarity in their eyes dimming ever so slightly. the love of his life dying in his arms. 

now they had to make the choice between death and eternal life. even in a situation as dire as this one, he was determined to give them the choice he didn’t have. selfishly, he was internally begging, pleading for them to agree. he couldn’t live forever without them by his side. every cell in his body was screaming at him to just do it, just turn them, save his love. but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, unless they wanted it too. 

and they do want it. the relief that flooded him was intense, but snuffed out quickly when he’s pulled back into the reality of the situation. he doesn’t even know where to begin. sam tells him, his body knows how. blood for blood. so he bites into his own wrist, putting the wound against lovely’s mouth, telling them to drink. 

and as they’re drinking blood for the first time in what’s about to be an eternity of surviving off of it, he takes a moment, just one moment, to look at them. to look into their eyes, trying to memorize the exact color, knowing this was the last time he’d ever see them. then the moment ended, all too soon, and then he was biting them, draining them, tasting their blood for the final time. 

then it was over. 

they were unconscious, their body exhausted from the transformation. he held them in the underground until sam called him to fight again. their heartbeat was the same, that distinct rhythm he knew like the back of his hand. but their scent was different. it was still them just, different. 

his body didn’t yearn for their blood anymore. that unconscious pull to feed he’d felt in the back of his mind every moment since meeting them was gone. it was still lovely, still his lovely, but it felt so wrong. there was a new pull though, a new bond, an  unconscious connection to them. his progeny. his partner. 

then the ward fell, and he could take them home. he laid them on their shared bed, tucked them in under the covers. he didn’t want to leave their side, but he had to go find william. even still, it almost physically hurt to pull himself away from the bedside, to leave them alone for even a few very necessary minutes. 

then he was asking, begging will to take away his ability to invoke them. he never would, of course he never would. but he knows what it’s like, to be aware that somebody could. he feels it with william, despite knowing will wouldn’t invoke him, hadn’t invoked him unless it was a last resort, he still felt it. that little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that william could. that he only had agency so long as william allowed it. his stomach turned at the thought of lovely feeling that way about him. 

then he was back at their bedside, staring at their sleeping form, waiting for them to wake up. he wanted to run his fingers through their hair, to soothe them, to soothe him, but he felt hesitant to touch them. he felt like he’d already done more than enough. their life had been a rollercoaster ever since he’d carelessly walked into it. he didn’t want to hurt them more than he already had. 

then they shifted just slightly, and their eyes opened. silver and red, just like his. he knew their eyes would be different, but it still felt surreal to see it. some part of him, some illogical, irrational part, was still expecting to see the eyes he knew. 

he began speaking, rambling, trying desperately to comfort them, to get them to understand it wouldn’t feel like this forever. he knew first hand what they were experiencing and his heart ached for them. they held his hand as he spoke, grip far tighter than they would’ve been capable of just hours before, when they were still human. he held back just as tightly, wanting to ground them, wanting to keep them at his side. 

they kissed softly, but their lips were firm. strong, like his. there was a new solidness to them. to their body as he laid down beside them to hold them. their movements were jerky, trying not to move too fast. their arms around him squeezing too tight, unaware of how to control their newfound strength. he didn’t mind. he would be content if they never let him go again.

• painting a nude portrait of

• singing a karaoke duet with