
Shiny Happy People~ The Strex Family. I finally got around to making some designs for DB Carlos, Daniel and Lauren. I’ll make a Night Vale one soon too.

Shiny Happy People~ The Strex Family. I finally got around to making some designs for DB Carlos, Daniel and Lauren. I’ll make a Night Vale one soon too.
Paralyzed
Summary: Wilford finds Dark in a position he wished he hadn’t. Enjoy~
None of the egos had seen Dark for over ten hours. This was bad. Over the last month Dark had relapsed four times; two of those happening in the same week. What concerned Wilford most was the last two times he’d relapsed he’d been so… confident, in who he was. He’d really believed he was Damien, or Celine. His absence was causing intense anxiety to ripple through Wilford’s body, as he combed through the house trying to find him.
Finally, he found Dark. He was standing in the middle of an office, eyes grey as the usual haze that covered him when like this was thickened. His body twitched in place, aura gone as well as his ringing. Wilford dashed across the room to him and held him by his shoulders. “Dark!”
He shook his grey toned partner, eyes frantic and wide. Dark was unresponsive, his body numbly going along with the shakes.
Wilford shook him a little harder. “Dark come on. Come back to me, please. It’s me! It’s Wilford, please!”
“I don’t… I’m not…” Dark’s head slowly tilted up towards Wilford. “I don’t know who I am.”
“Your name is Dark. My friend, my love my Dark.” Wilford says. “You’re a strong man, immovable, cunning… Dark please… you’re the head of the egos. We have a daughter, Yandere. She adores you, wants to be just like her dad.” Wilford rambled with manic hope, just knowing something will snap Dark back. It will. He knows it.
Dark blinked, long and slow. Wilford saw the struggle in his eyes, as he tried to rationalize and come to terms with who he is. “I… am… not who you say.” He whispered, voice haggard.
“No, no Dark don’t you say that please.” Wilford whimpered. “Dark, come back to me. It’s Wilford, it’s me.”
Dark looked pained and lost. “But… Damien… Celine… I am Damien and Celine…”
“No, no they’re parts of you but not the whole please Dark-”
An hour. They carried on like this for an hour before Wilford broke down into sobs at his feet. Another twenty minutes go by, and he still is in the same state.
So Wilford sniffled, stood up and helped to guide Dark to his bedroom. “You’ve been standing awhile. You should rest.” He whispered.
“Rest….” Dark repeated, voice distant.
Wilford helped him change into soft pajamas and tucked him into bed. He was like a zombie, doing everything he was prompted to do. Once he was all tucked in, he kissed his head. “Goodnight, Dark, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Dark didn’t respond.
Wil went to his own room and slept fitfully. He woke early, and when he checked in on Dark, he was still the same as before. “Dark honey,” He asked, voice cracking. “Are you hungry?”
“Hunger…” Was his reply.
So Wilford swallowed down and got breakfast for Dark. He fed him, bite by bite. Dark ate lifelessly, chewing and swallowing when prompted.
Another week went by like this, which turned to two which turned to a month. Wilford had formed a good habit of taking care of his beloved, reading meeting notes to him, playing old records and reading novels.
Yan visited her dad sometimes. But he never said much, and the entire situation kind of freaked her out. She doesn’t really stop by often.
Wil tried to reach out to Celine or Damien, wanting someone there, not this empty husk. And his efforts failed. He cried some nights, and others he tried to laugh and smile. He and Google worked together to try and do Dark’s job- balance books, make people happy… It was a hard job and Dark had done it flawlessly…
Wilford cleared his throat as he sat beside Dark one day. “Dark…”
The man tilted his head up slightly. He recognized that word as his name now, the way a dog learns its own name. Repeated use.
“Are you… hurting, Dark?” Wilford asked softly.
Dark thought. He struggled as he tried to find thr word that best fit the situation. “No.”
Wilford let out a sigh of relief and kissed his hands. “That’s all I wanted to know.”
Dark watched him as his hands were kissed, eyes void. He hadn’t lied, he really wasn’t hurting.
It’s to feel pain, when you can’t feel anything at all.
Dark gave up on his attempts at flying, really flying, a long time ago. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still go out and sit in a tree to watch Host soar through the sky, diving down only to swoop back up at last minute. They had, with a little time, become friends.
Where previously there had been only awkward encounters and a very clear, “I only talk to you because we need to work together,” air to every conversation, there was now a sense of familiarity and safety when the two came to spend time with one another.Some days they would sit in the sun, Dark ever-so-gently cleaning Host’s wings while they talked about menial things. The weather, Host’s boyfriends, Wilford’s latest (unsuccessful) escapades. They never discussed business, never brought up the breaking and cracking of Dark’s shell that was always soothed by the end of their time spent together.
They never brought up things that would end with them being tense, they only discussed what made them… happy.Host would talk about his doctor and his android, a smile on his lips as his wings slowly began to fluff up happily at the thought of his lovers. Dark would listen with a smile on his own face, amused by the reaction the mere mention of the two seemed to cause.
Host could go on for hours at a time about them, and Dark was always oddly willing to listen. Sometimes it makes Host wonder if Dark wants something like he has, a little love in his life.
Host never asks, though, and Dark never tells.Though their wings are different, they’re friends closer than anything. Their loyalty to one another grows strong, and soon they’re practically attached at the hip. Their friendship grows with every encounter, every day spent preening and talking.
The Host is happy, really and truly happy, for the first time in a long time. He has a family now, a family that loves and protects him, and while it’s new he knows he’ll do anything to protect them in return.
I’m toying with a headcanon that if the Host cannot speak, the words and visions build up (like pressure) in his head and as a result cause physical and mental repercussions.
Also putting under a cut cause I had too much fun with this and it got waaayyy long.
Tags: @caffeine-eater @authorsathenaeum @tiny-yan-an @darkstache-iplier @redraspberrycats @holyshitsnakesandspace @blue-greenstylinson @cookieface678 @bing-iplier
Prompt: “I can’t lose you.”
As soon as the words left his lips, he knew he wouldn’t be home that night.
“Rough hands grab the Host from behind and drag him into the alleyway.”
“Shut the hell up!” Right on cue, the barrel of a gun jammed itself into his back while the a rough hand- coated in dirt and what smelled like blood- clamped over his mouth and nose.