#invis_scrib

please i’m begging you 🙏

On Audience

The drone of hushed voices fills the grand throne room - nobles and influential merchants, religious figures and other people of high regard are conversing quietly, waiting for their turn to step before the Emperor.

As usual, his toy is lounging by the Emperor's feet on the top step of the raised dais that the elaborate throne rests on. It is draped in airy fabrics and covered in golden jewelry that sparkles in the light with its gentle movements. A gentle tilt of the head, a slow adjustment of the arm it's supporting itself with, the curl of its toes when the Emperor buries his fingers in its hair. How sensually it moves to sit directly in front of him when he almost imperceptibly tugs on its leash, mouth falling open at the gentle touch of his finger. It's a spectacle as much as it is just mundane.

Grian enjoys the feeling of Scar's finger in his mouth, it's an anchor for the soft current of arousal that is curling in his abdomen, as much as it's another way for them to communicate.

The merchant standing before them, dressed in his finest – most pompous, Grian judges quietly – clothes is laying out an offer of supplying his wares to the palace and Grian is not impressed. He happens to know that what the man is trying to pass off as high-quality goods is not much more than cheap junk. He'd been to his warehouses a few nights prior, after all.

So when Scar taps the roof of his mouth ("He's lying, right?"), Grian leans back into him. ("Yes.") Scar gives an inaudible sigh and lets the man finish his spiel before sending him away. When the next petitioner steps in front of the dais, Grian leans into his leash, directing Scar's attention towards the priest the noble lady had been talking to for the better part of her wait. Scar thanks him by petting his hair while accepting the greeting the lady gives him and hearing her out.

When a few people later the priest steps in front of Scar, it's not hard to recognize that they were making common cause. Scar's hand snaking down Grian's back told him to look into them more later.

Scar's ears are ringing from all the people he's been hearing out, requests and information spinning in his head. The crowd of people has thinned considerably but when the next person to step in front of him turns out to be an insufferable cry-baby he throws him out of his palace and declares a break.

Once the last of his staff have exited the throne room and pulled the grand wooden doors shut behind them, Scar relaxes and sinks into the cushioning of his throne. Grian, ever the attentive boyfriend, gets up from the floor and plops himself down in Scar's lap, leaning in for a kiss that Scar is happy to share.

Between making out and getting air, they talk shit about a lot of the people Scar has spoken to that day and eventually, Grian is happy to sink to his knees again and suck Scar off.

(764 words)

"Pssst, Grian, quiet," Scar whispered while almost walking backwards into a potted plant. The only thing keeping the planter from smashing from its pedestal was Grian's hand on his shoulder quickly stopping him in his tracks.

An almost hidden smile graced Grian's lips and Scar beamed at him before taking the lead once again. Grian almost melted into the shadows, sneaking around large palace corridors unseen one of his deeply ingrained skills. Scar, not so much. Grian was certain several pairs of eyes had already caught on Scar but considering that he was sneaking around his own palace, nobody interrupted him. The staff had long since accepted that their Emperor could be a little eccentric at the best of times.

Eventually, they made it down to the kitchen where Scar lit a candle to allow them to see better. Not something Grian would have done, had he actually been somewhere he wasn't supposed to be but since this had all been Scar's idea in the first place, he didn't mind playing along.

"So," Scar whispered in the loudest whisper Grian had ever heard, "what do you like?"

Grian hesitated. He didn't like anything, wasn't supposed to. Whatever was nutritious was good enough. Scar seemed to notice his indecision and instead of pestering Grian for an answer he grabbed one of the empty baskets kept by the door and began making his way to the pantry.

Scar handed the candle off to Grian, before picking at the shelves, filling his basket with fruits and dried sausages and a small loaf of white bread. He added a small rectangular thing wrapped in paper, that Grian couldn't identify and then moved to the ice box. Small pieces of different cheeses and some butter made their way into the now precariously filled basket.

Back in the kitchen, Scar went to add a couple of knives to the basket but Grian was quick to take them off him, reasoning they'd be safer transported in a firm grip rather than rattling around in an already overfilled basket. Scar relented easily and they began their way back to Scar's quarters.

It was a balmy spring night so Scar deposited the basket by the balcony doors and grabbed a plush blanket to cover the cool tile floor of the balcony before inviting Grian to sit with him. From up here, through the gaps in the railing they had a wide view over the palace gardens and down onto the sprawling city below. Torchlight and the occasional copper bulb sparkled like fireflies in the distance.

With the basket pulled in between them, Grian placed the knives down next to it. When he looked up, Scar was gazing right back at him expectantly and for a moment Grian didn't know what to do. Luckily Scar broke the silence first: "So, what do you want to try?"

Grian took his time observing all the different foods, taking them in as if he'd never truly seen them before. Finally, he reached for a small, unassuming red berry with an interesting, segmented texture.

"Raspberry," Scar supplied before Grian had dug up the name in his own brain. Grian bit down on the soft fruit, trying to really focus on the tart flavor and somewhat unexpectedly crunchy mouthfeel on account of the seeds. It was the first tie he was truly taking the time to focus on what he was eating. And he liked it. Grian decided, he liked raspberries.

Once he'd swallowed his bite, Scar offered him a piece of soft, mild cheese and Grian discovered that it went very well with the lingering taste of the berry in his mouth.

And so it went, Scar offering little bites of everything he'd taken to Grian, while Grian was insisting he take some for himself too, until they'd gone through the entire basket. Well, almost. The curious paper package that Grin had wondered about earlier had slipped to the bottom of the basket and now Scar was pulling it out. He unwrapped the paper, revealing a segmented brown bar.

"Have you ever had any?" Scar asked and Grian shook his head.

Scar broke a corner off the larger bar and offered it to Grian's lips. He took it gently, lips brushing over Scar's fingers and for a moment Grian wondered if he was supposed to chew but then the flavor started melting in his mouth and it was unlike anything he'd ever tasted before. Sweet and rich, it made him let out a content little coo under his breath.

"It's chocolate."

And Grian decided he enjoyed chocolate too.

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Enjoy your v!Legs/Abolish, they-both-live-AU drabble:

cw: canon-typical PTSD

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"See, it's okay." A hand clad in dry cotton rests on the Doctor's bare chest. "Breathe."

Legundo takes a shuddering breath. Even through the fabric, Abolish's touch is scalding. He has nowhere to hide, stripped from his cocoon of well-worn suit and battered surgical robe; feet bare from his familiar boots, he stands in front of his fledgling.

He isn't used to the gentle touches — isn't used to touch at all, if he is honest with himself and everything in his body twists as his hands are guided behind his back. Legundo tries closing his eyes but that only makes it worse. Suddenly he is back in Oakhurst, back even further, scenes flash in front of his eyes — a softly gloved hand touches his face and he is back in the warm walls of his room in the Thornvale manor.

"Stay here with me," Abolish guides gently, allowing Legs' hands to fall back to his sides. The younger vampire takes one of them and places them on his own, the rope he'd been holding sandwiched inbetween. "You don't have to do this. Just because I think you may like it, doesn't mean I'm right, okay?"

Legs is quick to shake his head: "No, you're okay. I'm fine. Just made a mistake there." He places his hands behind his back again.

But Abolish can tell he isn't being entirely honest with himself. He drops the rope and reaches for the Doctor's shoulders, running his gloves down his arms and gently bringing them back forwards. "Let's not do this one tonight. I don't want to send you back there again."

"But —"

So imagine with me...

It's the earlier days of his assignment to Scar, they're nowhere close to being boyfriends yet but Scar has successfully started chipping away at G's icy shell. And Grian... doesn't know how to process that.

On the one hand he wants to shut him out, wants Scar - no, needs Scar to understand that he is a weapon to be wielded, a tool to be used (,the Eyes of the Watchers) - not a person. On the other hand he craves Scar's kind words, can still feel the burn of where his Emperor had clasped a friendly hand over his shoulder. Grian wants nothing more than to sink to his knees and endure that scalding, gentle touch; wants to Submit, to relieve himself of the responsibility of being a weapon (,of being the Eyes).

He kneels by the side of his bed and he can feel the ghostly whispers of a whip licking at his back. The punishment that would surely await him should They ever learn of his blasphemous thoughts. He wonders if they would make him present his wings to break and snap his feathers or if they would take delight in damaging his back, injuring the tattoo and keeping him from summoning his wings until it heals (if it ever healed right at all).

A tear slips quietly down his cheek and he considers curling up on the rug before his bed, not feeling worthy of the plush bedding in the slightest.

He remains on his knees for a while longer. It's familiar, it feels safe.

Eventually the ghost of Scar's kind voice in his brain convinces Grian to climb into his bed after all.

He pushes the pillow to the side and folds himself into a small ball, blanket barely covering his legs.

on voice

Scar's steps are silent as he walks up to the atrium that houses the luxurious aviary. He'd given Grian a few hours off but now that he was done with his tasks, he missed him. When Grian hadn't been in their room, Scar had immediately known where to find him.

Now, leaned against the column of the door, Scar was content with watching his songbird. He was sure Grian had noticed his arrival, but he didn't let himself be disturbed. Instead, Grian was perched by the aviary, wings let out to loosely settle against his back, chirping and cooing at a pair of Rainbow Lorikeets who happily chattered back to him.

Scar's heart was doing flips in his chest. He was so proud of Grian, so proud of how far he'd come. Back when they hadn't known each other well yet and Scar had still been trying to convince Grian of his personhood, he'd once seen how longingly Grian had stared as Scar had shown him the aviary. The third or fourth time they'd walked past, one of the birds had chirped at Grian and without thinking, Grian had chirped back. As soon as the noise had left his throat, Grian had stiffened. He'd looked so small in that moment and Scar could only imagine what might have caused such a reaction.

Grian is introduced to court by the Watchers - a means to secure their influence on the Emperor.

Grian - trained by them in combat, diplomacy, strategy; in whatever it takes to slip into Scar's mind.

What they haven't taught him is how it feels to be loved. Useful, sure. Feared, yes - there is a reason he was chosen to sit with Scar after all. Even revered - he remembers his graduation and appointment ceremony well.

But never love. Never gentle touch that wasn't part of a lesson. Never soft words.

The Watchers are - not publically, but within the highest circles - known and respected as teachers to the Weapons that Emperors and Kings wield. Only the Watchers themselves know, how deep their influence truly goes - until Grian.

Or rather, until Scar. After Scar ascends to the throne it doesn't take long until Grian appears in his life.

Scar is intrigued by the pretty man in the simple grey robes that is introduced to him by his high priest and he easily accepts Grian's oath of loyalty and employs him, like his father and his forefathers have employed their Blades before him.

He learns about Grians's wealth of knowledge and his martial prowess but what intrigues him most is who Grian is.

Not what the Watchers made him, but who he is at his core.

Getting to that knowledge is hard. It's a battle of wits between them as much as it is a battle Grian is fighting with himself.

Since he could think Grian had been taught to lock himself away; to serve and obey - to be a toool. It never sat truly right with him but it was everything he'd ever known so he'd conformed.

But now there was Scar - kind, cunning, powerful, inquisitive, ruthless Scar.

At first Grian hadn't known how to truly read him - Scar was excellent at making people believe what he wanted them to believe.

So Grian mostly relied on the learned behaviours and truths that he'd been taught by the Watchers.

But slowly, piece by piece Scar managed to worm himself underneath Grian's shell, and as much as he'd like to deny it, Grian began to truly care for his Emperor - not on the calculating and manipulative level the Watchers cared about him, but on a much more personal, dare he say emotional level.

It takes a long time unravelling layers of rank and decorum and maybe a few close calls out on mission at night until Scar eventually confesses his love - confesses how much Grian means to him and how he appreciates that Grian has become comfortable enough with him to be honest with him, not only in matters of state but in more personal, seemingly inconsequential matters too.

Grian doesn't confess his love back, he isn't quite ready to admit something so monumental out loud yet. What he does do is get down on his knees, renewing his oath of loyalty to Scar - without the hidden loopholes that favor the Watchers this time. This is the point at which Grian decides he is utterly and wholly Scar's.

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He's kneeling, even though his legs protest but it's worth it for the weight of that single finger hooked through the D-ring. It pulls him in, makes him rest his head against the fabric on a covered thigh.

He doesn't have to be responsible right now. With anyone else he would not be able to endure the loss of autonomy. But right here, he can slowly teach his mind to drift; gently redirect his thoughts and focus on that warm voice lulling him in.

Safe-wording would probably have been a big issue in kb scar and grian’s relationship really early on, just after Grian changes loyalties cause he’s in the mindset of his own boundaries and comforts barely take priority to him and trying to be basically perfect for scar so he can stay close and safe(r) from the watchers. He probably wouldn’t even consider saying no or stop to scar in that early on mindset.

- 🐢

It's not that Grian doesn't trust Scar, it's that his brain is a fucking traitor who doesn't believe that he can have something good happen to him without consequence. Being with Scar – it's the best thing to ever happen to him, but Grian can't help it: part of his brain is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Scar to decide he isn't good enough – a flawed blade after all – and for him to decide to send him back. Back to them. Back to where he would be punished. Reeducated, if he was lucky. Killed, if he wasn't.

He isn't sure he would survive it, no matter Their decision.

Not after knowing what affection, what love, what humanity feels like. Not after Scar.

So he tries to please Scar every way he can. Tries to make himself indispensable – even at the cost of his own comfort. It's something he's used to, so it shouldn't bother him. Right?

He remembers Scar encouraging him to be honest, to talk back, to disagree. But, that traitorous part of his brain whispers, was he telling the truth? Does he really want you to do that? Surely it's better to please him than to deny him. Especially now, that you have nowhere else to go. Would be a shame if he got tired of you and you had to face Them again. You know They aren't pleased with you. They know you kept information from them, lied to them, no longer respect them. SHUT UP. Scar wouldn't. But what if he would?

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