The Heart that Seeks Pleasure First : Fic/Art Tag Team Challenge.
Title: The Heart that Seeks Pleasure First
Artist: fenderlove
Author: whichclothes
Rating: PG
Prompts: "The heart seeks pleasure first" and "Fallen from Grace"
Summary: Spike, as a character, has always sought a single pleasure- love. Not just physical love, but the pleasure of being loved and loving someone else. Experiencing the warmth that comes from being in love is his ultimate pleasure, and unfortunately (yet fortunately at the same time) seeking it has led him his entire life and death.
Medium: Photoshop/Illustrator CS3.
Artist's Note: I was watching The Last Unicorn when I drew Unsouled!Spike which is why he's got the beastly little tuft of fur on his elbow. I think if you've seen the film, you'll get it. :D
Author's Note: Just check out the art and be awed!!
It was crowded in the basement.
There were the rats, of course, squirming, hot little creatures, each of which valued life as much in its own way as any human ever did. But there were fewer rats than there used to be, and instead more tiny, silent corpses.
It wasn’t the rats that made it crowded, though, but the sounds. The chorus, with thousands of voices screaming and begging and crying, thousands of drumming heartbeats slowing and stopping, thousands of gallons of rushing blood flowing from veins. That was only the chorus, though, and he could nearly drown it out if he cried loudly enough.
It was the other voices that troubled him more, that he always heard no matter how much he keened or sobbed or shouted. The voice of the spurned poet, his innocence traded away in a dirty London alley for the chance of a kindred spirit. The voice of the demon, the monster who reveled in mayhem and yet who yearned for the love he could never deserve. And the voice of the other, the self who wasn’t himself, the one who sometimes took the shape of other dead things. They chattered at him all the time, complaining, demeaning, cajoling. Reminding him of what he never was and could never have, persuading him to make impossible choices.
He’d fall to his knees and wrap his arms around himself, bang his head against the hard walls, but still he couldn’t have quiet for even one bloody second.
“The heart seeks pleasure first,” said the thing with his face. “Even an unbeating heart. A vampire’s pleasure is murder. Seek your pleasure.”
“The heart seeks pleasure first,” said the dead man. “The search for pleasure ruins us and kills us and renders us dust. Run and hide.”
“The hearts seeks pleasure first,” said the demon. “Take her. Make her ours. That is what will please us.”
Sometimes there was another voice as well, a quiet one, but confident. “The heart seeks pleasure first,” it said. “It seeks kindness and companionship and respect. Follow your heart.” He rather fancied this voice. If he could only be strong enough, he thought he might take its advice.
But now he was weak and tired and hurting, and everything was cold and hard and unforgiving. And crowded.
And he was so alone.
---fin---
Artist: fenderlove
Author: whichclothes
Rating: PG
Prompts: "The heart seeks pleasure first" and "Fallen from Grace"
Summary: Spike, as a character, has always sought a single pleasure- love. Not just physical love, but the pleasure of being loved and loving someone else. Experiencing the warmth that comes from being in love is his ultimate pleasure, and unfortunately (yet fortunately at the same time) seeking it has led him his entire life and death.
Medium: Photoshop/Illustrator CS3.
Artist's Note: I was watching The Last Unicorn when I drew Unsouled!Spike which is why he's got the beastly little tuft of fur on his elbow. I think if you've seen the film, you'll get it. :D
Author's Note: Just check out the art and be awed!!
It was crowded in the basement.
There were the rats, of course, squirming, hot little creatures, each of which valued life as much in its own way as any human ever did. But there were fewer rats than there used to be, and instead more tiny, silent corpses.
It wasn’t the rats that made it crowded, though, but the sounds. The chorus, with thousands of voices screaming and begging and crying, thousands of drumming heartbeats slowing and stopping, thousands of gallons of rushing blood flowing from veins. That was only the chorus, though, and he could nearly drown it out if he cried loudly enough.
It was the other voices that troubled him more, that he always heard no matter how much he keened or sobbed or shouted. The voice of the spurned poet, his innocence traded away in a dirty London alley for the chance of a kindred spirit. The voice of the demon, the monster who reveled in mayhem and yet who yearned for the love he could never deserve. And the voice of the other, the self who wasn’t himself, the one who sometimes took the shape of other dead things. They chattered at him all the time, complaining, demeaning, cajoling. Reminding him of what he never was and could never have, persuading him to make impossible choices.
He’d fall to his knees and wrap his arms around himself, bang his head against the hard walls, but still he couldn’t have quiet for even one bloody second.
“The heart seeks pleasure first,” said the thing with his face. “Even an unbeating heart. A vampire’s pleasure is murder. Seek your pleasure.”
“The heart seeks pleasure first,” said the dead man. “The search for pleasure ruins us and kills us and renders us dust. Run and hide.”
“The hearts seeks pleasure first,” said the demon. “Take her. Make her ours. That is what will please us.”
Sometimes there was another voice as well, a quiet one, but confident. “The heart seeks pleasure first,” it said. “It seeks kindness and companionship and respect. Follow your heart.” He rather fancied this voice. If he could only be strong enough, he thought he might take its advice.
But now he was weak and tired and hurting, and everything was cold and hard and unforgiving. And crowded.
And he was so alone.
---fin---