#Marvin's insane reasoning cracks me up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

menshusband · 4 years ago

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\\ this is a bit long. skip to the end if you do not want to read it all!

i love Cloudy because with him i would be free to keep a straight face, which others consider “unhappy”, and because i relate to him.

i love Joker because he thinks that what happened to him will happen to anyone who does not smile. not that he cares about others, but since i am in his life, he does anything possible to make me smile without a knife.

i love Bane because he knows what sufferance is, and has a kind heart, thus he would do anything to protect me.

i love Arthur because he is mature and serious, but has an awesome humour at the right moment, always. he would help me focus when there is need to, and laugh when i am down.

i love Benji because he is a technology genius. because he plays videogames and chews a gum during work, yet he is responsible. he is a bit nervous, but i do not blame him considering his job. he would try to keep me out of his work business, “it is too dangerous. i cannot tell you. and then itʼs top secret!11!!” ...but he would give up either to my puppy eyes or my stubbornness. he is definitely a bit underrated, too.

i love Chuck because he is fast. i am a pretty slow person, and i get called out quite a lot because of it. but he would tell me that it is alright, and he would take me on his back and show me what it is like to go that fast. if i liked it, he would help me become faster; if not, he would just let me have some rides every now and then. ... and then he is a dork.

i love Fred because he would make me laugh at any time of the day, in any way possible. he would have success 9/10 times. that one time i would not stop crying, he would just hold me and tell me comfort words, and tell George to shut up.

i love Hermes because he is really caring, friendly, chilled out, always has the right words, and he is fast. he would help me trip on my own tongue less, and would slow down his talking when he sees i am not getting much. he would give me a ride flying at an insane speed, just to be very unfunny because he knows i do not like heights. but he knew that i would like it and that would help me overcome my fear.

i love L because he is a very smart boy. he would help me stop lying completely, even for the small things. not that i usually lie - i actually hate lying - but i do not always tell the whole truth.

i love Lumière because he is romantic. i am not really much, so he would just be the nicest man on earth and offer me to dance, take me to beautiful places in Paris and to stargazing at night. and then he would also teach me french.

i love Marshall Mellow because, although he is shy, this never ever stops him from bringing to an end all of his orders, or anything he starts at all, whatever it takes. he would protect me in any way possible and take care of me.

i love Peter because he is fragile. because he needs to be taken care of, and i want to. i want to help him. because he has a trauma, and it will take him time to overcome it. and i want to be by his side all the way through it. i want to be his comfort anchor for when he wakes up from a nightmare, and he looks for something real to cling on in his bed. i want to help him understand it was not his fault, any of it, and that the spirits are finally gone. that he is safe, with me.

i love Sherlock because he is not an easy one. he has his very own way to think, to act, and i love it. i would do anything he would ask me to, and he would teach me all the things he knows - which are a lot. when he would catch a criminal and we would be home, he would feel guilty not to thank me for my help - even if small; and despite his bad skills in showing affection, he would call me and gimme a kiss on my forehead to thank me.

i love Stanley because he has been through a lot. kind of same story as Peter, but Stan is a bit stronger. i want to help him understand that he is safe now, that IT is gone, and will never come back. that none of that was his fault, and that his life still has got much for him.

i love Timon because he tries his best. he is a free spirit, yet he tries to adapt to his herd lifestyle. he tries to explain kindly why he thinks that he is not where he wants to be, and he always tries to fix his mistakes; yet everyone always sees him under a bad light. i relate to him in a way.

i love tin man because he is kind hearted and extremely caring. he is sensitive and, although he might not be the bravest, he never steps back when it comes to help someone.

i love Tulio because he is realistic. he is rational and always looks for a possible way out of things. he would help me solve my problems and teach me how to be down to earth and think quicker. he is very lucid, and despite how much he is attached to gold, he is always able to listen to his “little voice inside his head” and do the right thing. he is not insensitive.

i love Tschakko because he is brave. he is pretty smart in his own way, and protective as well. he is respectful towards women and always ready to attack someone or use dynamite, even when unnecessary. he would probably try to soften and not to yell as much as he could when i am around, knowing it startles me, but still would give me - kinder - orders to help me not to be too lazy.

i love Marvin because he is literally crazy. he is also really precise. he would definitely teach me how to use a gun and, as opposed to Benji, he would have no problem involving me in whatever his friends and he get caught into. does not mean he does not care about me– as soon as i get hurt, he will go insane and.. yeah.

i love Mickey because he!! is!! my!! childhood!!

i love Miguel because he has a big heart. he is a very human person, and a dreamer, which i really admire; not many people are able to. i love his way of thinking and how he stands for justice always, no matter what.

i love Ryuk because... because?? this is pretty hard to answer lol. he is funny, and.. a shinigami. i know he cares about me and would definitely have a crush on me at some point, but i frankly do not know how far he would go to defend me. but, i do know that he would be interested in anything i do during the day, both as human and as me myself, and would want to know what i want to do with the Death Note.

i love scarecrow because he is damn smart. that is it.

i appreciate Bobo because he is an adorable dork!! he might get annoying sometimes, but i would love to take care of him and patiently explain him everything. ... however, cannot deny that seeing him getting slapped upside the head by Tschakko or Cloudy would crack me up a LOT.

i appreciate Cooky because he cares about the others health!!! he always cooks healthy meals for them and does not want them to skip a meal. he is also a bit smarter than the others, sooo, a tiny bit less irritating..? lmao.

i appreciate Ralphy because he is so neat!!! Sunny is right, he is very nice!! his attempts to be a dwarf in the beginning were so adorable! i am glad his dreams came true and that he got to be a dwarf!!!

i appreciate Speedy because he is hilarious. despite he is a bit slow, i cannot say word to it, because i myself am! and then, he tries his best to stay behind others and help, which is nice.

i appreciate Sunny because he is solar, and always tries to light up everyoneʼs day. he always sees the bright side of everything, which i am.. almost never able to, so he would definitely help me a lot with that.

i appreciate CASE because IT IS SO ADORABLY SMART AND GREAT

i appreciate TARS because IT IS SO ADORABLY FUNNY AND BRAVE

i appreciate the Cheshire Cat because. he is a damn fluff ball, i would love to hug him all day. he is the cutest and obnoxiously clever.

i appreciate Gumball because he is just ridiculous, in a loving way!! he is the best when it comes to dumbassary and thus make me laugh. i am happy i consider him my brother :)

i appreciate Darwin because he is a bit more rational and sensitive, and without him, Gumball would probably be dead a long time ago. although sometimes they might keep me out of their “boys business”, i love seeing them sharing their unique bond.

i appreciate B. B. because he.. alright, give me a second. i ran out of words lmao. i appreciate the fact that he is vegetarian! and i love the brother bond he has with Cyborg. i am glad to think they would involve me in their nerdy projects. also, he would totally let me have a ride on whichever animal i would like hehe.

i appreciate Raven because she is so cool!!! i always wanted her to be my sister. i have always admired her rationality and intelligence. and then!! she is daughter of a demon!! she has super cool powers!! WHAT!!!

i appreciate Cyborg because he is neat!! he would let me watch him fix or create any technology piece he comes up with, and try to include me as much as he can in any project or event that is up!

i appreciate Robin because he tries his best to be a good leader for everyone. he tries to be responsible and focus on saving the city when the others do not! he is not very patient as a leader, but i cannot blame him. i myself am a bit too irascible at times.

i appreciate Starfire because, despite she might look a bit dumb, she is just a nice, pretty princess. she is sensitive and cares a lot about the others, and enjoys living on earth, which i am glad of! she has made enormous progresses since when she came here, considering she was already a teen when she arrived. and then, she has super cool powers too!!!

of course there are many more reasons why i like my f/os, but letʼs just say these are the “mains”.

i have made this long, long post not only because i wanted to give at least a reason per f/o, but also because i wanted to give you all a help. this is a good exercise for you and your f/os both, especially when you feel like you are not very close to them. try to say why you love them, or why you have fallen for them first, and try to include something they would do for/with you. this can help!

#f/o #f/os #romantic f/o #platonic f/o #familial f/o

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vixthefantheorist · 5 years ago

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Is Anti the Shadow of the Egos pt. 2

Or an add on really. But an important one that I did touch on in my previous post - right here - that I didn’t go into detail yet. Or I was planning too but forgot the words at the time since I was writing that at like... midnight or something.

Anyway, the bit that I wanted to focus on now is this little tidbit.

Again its just theory I have. That Anti is/was a Shadow self of Jack but evolved into something more. Hell maybe Anti is the shadow of all the egos, absorbing their fears and darkness that they refuse to face… with the exception of Chase to a degree. Chase is a ball of negativity and acknowledges it, but likely refuses to face the reason of why or do anything about it; and Anti finds it funny or hell thinks of him as a battery to drain energy from. Who knows.

The reason I point that out is.. because it is true each ego has their own set of fears. Fears that Anti would be all to happy to latch onto and needle at them with. But the biggest fear they all collectively *share* - is the fear of being forgotten and replaced.

Which of course is a valid reason. Seán had stated before that all the egos are each their own person, not fragments of Jack or anything. At least in the Lore. But the thing is it doesn’t matter if they are or not. Every human in the world has their own fears. Spiders, darkness, oceans, etc. But again, the biggest fear nearly everyone has... is being forgotten and replaced. We are creatures that desire to be remembered in some shape or form. Thus, we leave behind pieces of ourselves in creativity. Art, music, literature, architecture and of course important points in history. We all want to be remembered.

The thing is that Egos thrive and exist on the attention and memory of the creator and the community. If the community forgets, they exist to the creator. If the creator forgets but the community remembers, they exist to them. But if both forget... they vanish. Fade into nothing. And that’s the problem. People are easily swayed by the next new thing, creators and community shift ideas often but as long as they love the creations, the Egos in this case, then they don’t need to worry for a while. But eventually they would fade like all things do. Back on track, sorry, Egos fear being forgotten and/or replaced by whatever new thing pops up. Anti has that fear as well despite how he rants about attention, which is likely fear disguised as rage.Anyway, that is ONE fear they all share... even with Anti... perhaps that fear... one they know is there but do not want to think about... not want to face... is where Anti came from.

Maybe. I don’t know for certain.

But if that is one fear that links them all together than its that one fear Anti is anchored to, his link to the egos, his way to possess them and interfere with any chances they try to use to rescue Jack or each other from his influence. A link that he uses to read their other fears, invade their dreams and twist them into nightmares. And a root to draw in their hidden negativity.

Because, come on, we all know no one is innocent here. Each one has a skeleton in their closet and we don’t know those yet because we haven’t gotten to those points yet. But they do have a certain... anger to the community. Or at least I think so. After all, this is just my theory and observation, so take it with a grain salt.

Each ego may or may not have an bone to pick with the Community. Again, just *My* thoughts. JJ: Hardly seen as anything but innocent with no real way to defend himself. Either he’s good or evil that’s all really anyone thinks of him. Nothing more than that.

Marvin: Again, good or evil, a magician with magic... nothing else. Much like JJ and gets pity.

Henrik: No one really talks about his family troubles. Either he’s a good friend or a crack job doctor, but again no one really speaks about how his wife cheated on him and took his children away to run off with some tennis instructor.

Jackie: A loved superhero... that gets dumped extremely quickly for a new or better version of him. I mean there was that time that everyone started drawing Seán in spiderman outfits and Jackie was shoved into the backburner for a while. Then people started to change Jackie to be less Jackieboy Man to... JSE version of Spiderman.

Chase: Barely gets anything written or drawn of him with a happy ending. Everything is very depressing and people seem to not want to see that change. So... his life is constantly in a state of depression. And who decided that was his life until spoken otherwise? Seán - or Jack, depending on how you see it.

Again, these are just probabilities, and bits I of info I got from a couple of other theorists I spoke to in the JSE discord server, so its second hand knowledge and *NOT* 100% correct or accurate. (Kinda hard to with 22 + million fans running around) Everyone has their own ideas of the Egos, so this is *not* a blast at anyone. So please don’t think of it as such.

Anyway, each Ego has a sore spot and a bit of anger they may not want to face and acknowledge out of fear. And as I said in the previous post, that negative emotions that are rejected break away into shadows. If this was a case of Anti being a shadow like the shadow selves from Persona.

If Anti absorbs that, then he knows their darkness, their fears and can use it against them in various ways. To corrupt them to join him, to have them turn on the community and Jack. Or slowly drive them insane. Take your pick.

Its like Anti is the major shadow in this show. Because if you remember Dr. Jacksepticeye, the one ‘ego’ that was trying to pass off as the good doctor and we all knew it was Henrik Von Schneeplestein that is our good doctor ego. We were all suspicious. And Henrik kicked in the door and wanted this person out of his chair and out of his spot as the doctor. That was fear. Henrik’s fear of being replaced by someone new... a shadow of himself in a way. And from then, we do not know what happened to Dr. Jack or Henrik.

And in Chase’s case, he was completely abandoned and forgotten by Stacy and the kids. Was it by choice? Who knows? Did she remarry? Who knows? But its hurting Chase deeply since he cannot for the life of him somehow get them to take him back or prove he is a good husband and father. Honestly, being the one with the most fleshed out story, we still don’t know much of Chase or his situation. Just that he’s depressed and lonely and struggling to move on. Jack and Henrik seemed to be helping him with that, until Anti drop kicked Jack into a coma and can’t talk to him as he used to.

Do you think Anti is a shadow of them? Or just a shadow of Jack but linked to their central fear of being replaced? Or an amalgamation of their fears but sentient and wants revenge? Or something else? I’m curious.

---------

Though there is another way to see Anti. Not really a Shadow to Jack or the egos... but a Shadow; a dark mirror to -

Us. The community.

If you look at his behavior, its very similar to that of a community of fans, but in a negative light no one really wants to see or acknowledge.

Anti craves attention, very much like fans do when we crave attention from Seán, to get him to talk to us... *acknowledge us* as much as Anti wants acknowledgement. And if we don’t get it, we scream and rant... much like Anti.

We want control of the channel, to have him play this... or that... go here or there. Do this or that... like a puppet dancing for our entertainment. Exactly how Anti wishes control of others, making them cower and dance in fear for his entertainment.

Anti reflects how we are like a dark mirror. And I mean it, that we refuse to look at own darkness but we swoon and fawn over another's. We scream when we don't feel acknowledged or if the youtuber refuses to pay attention to what we want. Anti rants about acknowledgement.

Anti rages at not being paid attention to. Just as many fans of the community rage at not having anyone pay attention to what we do or make.

We want something done our way. Anti wants things his way.

We try at times to control something that wasn't ours... just as Anti does...

We yank on the strings to try to get what we want; then hate and threaten if we don't get it. And Anti does the same, hate and threaten the other Egos, Jack because he doesn’t get what he wants.

All fandoms have an ugly side that we often at times refuse to acknowledge exists. Perhaps Anti is our own Shadow... our mirror of ourselves as a community.

Now I say that, not out of arrogance or hate or anything. Hell no. I love this community, I love the people in it because I met people, completely strangers to me but all share the same love of the funny shit in Jacksepticeye. I get to geek out with them and come up with theories and AUs and all kids of fun things because of this community. I love Seán as friend I never met and the content he provides because it brightens my days. But I do acknowledge there is a darker side to all fandoms. We all know it and we all try to ignore it for good reasons.

I just wanted to point this out as a possibility, not a bash to the community or any side. Anti was created by the fans, by US, the community, and should be cherished as something fun. And that’s what it is. Anti is fun, I just really think it would blow my mind if Anti was a fun dark reflection to the community as a way to be linked to the story, the Lore that Seán is making.

Also remember the Lore he’s making isn’t a set in stone story that we all have to abide in writing or drawing the egos. Its just a story he wanted to do for and with us. He even stated himself that He has his own ideas of what Anti is, but its not included in the Lore to keep Anti flexible and fun for everyone to still come up with their own designs and origins of Anti.

But how is that? What do you think? Is Anti a dark reflection of our own darkness~?

#jacksepticeye #jse theories #Chase Brody #dr. schneeplestein #antisepticeye #marvin magnificent #jackieboyman #jameson jackson #vixtheories #Is Anti a shadow of the egos?#Or a shadow of ourselves?

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glixbitch · 6 years ago

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Laugh! - JSE Fic

Inspiration called so I had to listen! Please forgive me 😉💜

Anti slowly circles the chair, coming to a halt behind it, slightly out of its occupants line of sight. Said occupant is stock still, only the occasional quiver betraying the paralysing fear he feels coursing through his veins. He’s got his eyes fixed on the floor, determinedly averting them from his surroundings, and his captor and, most importantly, the broken version of himself he would see in the mirror he is sitting opposite. He feels the demon’s hands clamping down on his shoulder and suppresses the shiver that attempts to run through him at his touch, ice cold as it is.

“We are having fun, aren’t we, Jamie?” he hears from behind him, and he can just hear the grin on his face, the fucking bast-

One of those icy hands whips forward and grabs his jaw, forcing his face upwards to meet the other’s gaze through the mirror. “Answer me, brother” he simpers, knowing the effect that particular word will have on the mute. He hasn’t seen his real brothers in weeks, though it may as well be an eternity, a fact Anti is well aware of, being the architect of JJ’s misery. A surge of hot, bubbling anger rises within him, and he shakes his head jerkily, yanking his chin from Anti’s slack grip. Said glitch narrows his eyes, and returns his hand to the back of the chair. Feeling a small sense of pride at his show of bravery, JJ returns the stare solidly via the mirror, refusing to contort himself to look directly into the eyes of that monster.

“If that’s how it’s gonna be”, Anti says matter of factly, raising his eyebrows in the mirror. He abruptly glitches out of the room, leaving Jamie to his thoughts, not for the first time. He has a tendency to do this. Short sharp bursts of physical pain, followed by the prolonged psychological torture of solitude, with only his own head for company. If he knew how predictable he was, thought JJ, he’d be furious.

The sudden reprieve gives JJ a brief moment to take stock of his own injuries. He has a broken kneecap, he’s pretty sure, and burn marks peppering his arms and legs. Looking into the mirror, he can see a long gash from his eye to his jaw (the souvenir of a particularly lovely afternoon with Anti), and a black eye blooming from today’s foray.

The sight of his own reflection is unwelcome, reminding him of the state he’s in. It’d be easier to put on brave face if he didn’t have to convince himself in the mirror as well, which is undoubtedly why Anti put it there.

A thump from behind him breaks into JJ’s thoughts, and he looks up, startled. The glitch is back, smirking at his reflection. Hunched over in the stiff, wooden chair, JJ can’t help but think how tall the other looks, powerful, towering over him with that sadistic gleam in his eyes. He’s wearing the usual. All black, shirt and jeans, his hair sticking in all directions. As JJ’s eyes travel down his body, they pass over his left hand, holding his kni- wait, what?

That’s not a knife, JJ realises, squinting to look at the object. Why is Anti holding a pencil?

Completely non-plussed by this development, his eyes move back to Anti’s face, who is smilingly knowingly at him, pleased that he’s noticed his unusual accessory.

Striding round to stand in front of him, he crouches slightly so they’re at equal eye level, and once again, grabs his jaw. His grip is much stronger this time, and JJ keeps still, fearing that any movement would be less defiant and more idiotic when he snaps his own neck. “Hold still”, the glitch coos, speaking in the soft and cheery tone that a kindergarten teacher might use on a troublesome child who can’t put on their own shoes.

One hand holding him firmly in place, the other reaches up and places the sharpened point to his neck, pressing intently as he draws a line across the front with practiced ease.

Gritting his teeth, JJ keeps quiet, waiting until this point is withdrawn to release the breath he’s holding. Anti straightens up, twirling the pencil between his finger. JJ’s eyes follow its rhythmic movements, and widen as the air glitches around it, the point sharpening and extending, the base thickening and elongating until it jolts back into reality as the blade they know all too well.

To JJ’s complete bewilderment, Anti flips the knife to catch it by the blade, and holds it out, handle first, to the mute. The shock must have shown on his face, because Anti chuckles, lip curling as he speaks, “Take it”.

As if in a dream, JJ feels his hand moving upwards, grasping the handle, fingers curling around the base. It’s heavier than he thought it would be, but he quickly adjusts to the weight. In a way, it feels like a natural extension of his arm. Holding the metallic flat of the knife up to his face, he catches a glimpse of his own expression in the reflection. The love, the adoration mirrored in his own eyes is enough to bring him back to reality, and he quickly lowers his arm, looking back up towards Anti, who is watching him with an aggressive kind of pride.

“Go on then,” prompts the demon, folding his arms across his chest.

A questioning look is all JJ can reply with, all he can muster. “You know what to do”, the man sneers, “I’ve even given you a guide”, he says, with a pointed look towards the pencil on JJ’s throat.

Realisation dawning, JJ frantically moves to release the knife, but finds it fixed in his hand. He’s telling his hand to move, but it remains clutching the lethal object. More than that, it begins to move towards his neck of its own accord. A fuzzy, muffled feeling descends over him, making him feel dazed, sharp bursts of panic the only thing penetrating the haze.

“You are mine” a voice hissed, sending a fresh wave of shock over the man. His eyes flick upwards, but Anti is still just smiling, lips together.

Attempting to throw the knife away from him, JJ looks down in horror at his hand, which is not cooperating with what his brain so desperately wants. It continues to move towards his own throat, juttering and stilted, but maintaining a constant trajectory, heading for his jugular.

“It’s okay”, the soothing voice whispered, crackling in his eardrums. “It’s going to be so much fun”. A high pitched giggle reverberates around the room, around his head. It would be fun, wouldn’t it? He’d be like Sean, wearing a bright red necklace as he lies in his hospital bed. That sounds like fu- these aren’t my thoughts!

“You’ve always been mine, Jameson” the voice breathed, static slithering into his eyes, his ears, ensnaring and enrobing every aspect of his soul. He can’t think, he can’t see, everything is muffled by a haze of fog and glitching in and out of reality. When the blade finally makes contact with his neck, he leans into the touch. Slowly, centimetre by centimetre, he begins to move it across the line that Anti had so kindly drawn for him. He’s so kind to me, I want to be like him.

The man himself is watching, a face splitting smile adorning his features. When only a few drops of blood as been spilled, he lifts a hand. “Stop”.

JJ freezes, regaining a small amount of focus back into his gaze, which is trained on Anti now. “I want you to look at them, while you do it”.

Them? thinks JJ who’s them- Oh. A glance upwards to the mirror tells him all he needs to know. He no longer only sees himself reflected in the glass. There’s Chase, eyes wide and brimming with tears as he sees his brother for the first time in weeks. Jackie, who is visibly brimming with rage, being held back by Schneep, who looks to be the only reason why Jackie isn’t hurtling out of the mirror towards him right now. Their good doctor, who is staring at him with a somberness and devastation that the other’s don’t have. They can’t have. Because they haven’t been in JJ’s spot, not like he has. And Marvin, his long hair unkempt and uncared for, bags under his eyes, with his hand rubbing his own throat, unconsciously mirroring his youngest brothers actions. He is bursting with nervous energy, and the air around him shimmers with unrestrained magic.

They don’t speak, they can’t. Whether because of Anti, or because they’re not real, JJ doesn’t know. Blinking, he regards their faces. He sees Marvin’s eyes follow the drop of blood slowly moving down his neck. He turns back to Anti.

“Resume”.

The blade moves again, splitting open his neck in a big red smile. His body spasms and shakes but remains upright, held by the static, which hungrily moves around him, rushing into him even faster through this new entry point.

Anti lets out his own insane cackle, giggling and glitching, causing the static energy in the room to hum even louder, and reaches behind him to put one hand on the mirror.

“Now, puppet” he whispers, glancing back at the frozen egos behind him, before turning to JJ.

“L̻A̞̬̗̥̯͡U̝G͓͔̖Ḩ̟̣̤͉͇̪”

His fist smashes into the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces and cracking both JJ and the watching companions down the middle. A strangled sound escapes JJ, the first sound in decades. Was it even a human noise? Born out of insanity, and glee, and sick pleasure, JJ laughs, blood spurting from his wound with each palpitation, meeting the distraught eyes of the people trapped in the mirror as he does. D͏̫̭̝̪͎̘o̖é̠s̬͍͎͎͎͠ ̡͉̥̬̜̫h͓̹̼̖̫͙̦e̢͉̻ ̩l͇͙ǫ͇̤̩̙̱ͅo̵̳͔̼ͅk̥̜͖͈̣̙̲ ̘̻̣͓̼ͅa̸͍̭̳s҉̩̜̖ b̴͓͖̟̫̻ŗ̣o͏͕̻̯̳͉͙k̲̞͖̀e̤̤n̴̬̹̲̩͔͙ ̺̗̦̯̼̖͉a̪͚̬͞s͍̣̼ ͏t͞h͏e͕̩̠̲y̮͖̤̯͉̠ ̹̼͇d̘͔̮̯̭o?̙̝

#jacksepticeye #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #hope you guys enjoy!!#tw gore #under a keep reading bc long #i dont think it worked the first time so sorryyy

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plutoandpolaris · 6 years ago

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Walk the Line Chapter 1: The Price I Pay

Summary: Jackie has been missing for almost as long as Schneep had, and Marvin is beginning to get desperate. He turns to unsavory means to find answers and in the process, finds that the truth is much worse than anything they could have imagined.

Warnings: blood, strong language (minor) injury.

Marvin’s dreams had never been wrong.

They’d never been clear or easy to understand either, but from the day of his creation his dreams had always come true in one way or another.

Darkness. A sky black as pitch, overlooking a steep stone cliff. The rock is a dark, muddy red, dotted with trees so white they resemble skeletal hands reaching from the earth. A lone figure stands on the cliff side, his clothes torn and dappled with stains as red as the world around him.

Scars and wounds dapple his stark white skin, his eyes hollow and cold.

“Stay away,” he whispers hoarsely, the sound a booming metronome in Marvin’s ears. “Leave me.”

“Jackie?!” Marvin calls, sprinting desperately to close the distance.

His brother doesn't look at him, instead gazing past him in a glassy thousand yard stare. Marvin reaches him then, gripping his shoulders, eyes pleading. He doesn't respond.

“What has he done to you?!”

Once again, no answer. Marvin envelops his brother in a crushing hug, only to realize that, to his horror, Jackie is dissolving. His skin turns an ashy black, dissipating into black smoke blown over the ravine by the warm wind.

Marvin curls into himself, dropping to his knees as the last vestiges of ash and smoke blow from his fingers.

Jackie is gone.

Every day, the dreams continued. Many were identical, some with slight differences that nevertheless ended in the same result.

But recently, the dream had changed again.

The cliff side was now empty.

And so Marvin continued his near manic search for Jackie, for the titular cliff that had plagued his nightmares for months. His brothers thought he'd gone completely insane, but there was nothing they could do. Marvin was far past the point of listening to reason.

He'd scoured every map and travel site he could get his hands on, searching for somewhere, anywhere, that matched the cliff in his dreams. Nothing.

He even got the point of bothering professional geographers about it, but he was constantly faced with the same answer. There's no place on earth with trees like that. With a sky as crisp and smooth as black marble.

It's fantasy.

However, as it turned out, fantasy is Marvin’s specialty.

He’d given up searching for this place on earth and turned to his second option: Anti had taken Jackie to some kind of parallel dimension, as was the case with Henrik’s abduction nearly a year before. But still, nothing. He'd personally scanned every single alternate dimension in his records, everything turning up empty. His brothers began to bring up the possibility that the cliff doesn't exist, that it was just a dream, but he wouldn't hear it.

It had to be out there.

It had to be.

And that was how he found himself in Dark’s office.

“Truth be told, you are the last person I’d expect to ask me for help.”

Dark leaned back in his chair, hands folded, slight amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I’m out of options,” Marvin muttered, rummaging through his bag for his notes, documentation of every single cliff dream he’d had since Jackie went missing. He could vaguely hear Dark muttering under his breath. “The fool who goes knocking on the devil’s door usually is.”

Marvin placed the folder on the table, spreading out the papers in order.

“Anti has taken Jackie, and I know for a fact that wherever he’s taken him has been showing up in my dreams. I need to know where it is, and an attainable method of getting me there that won't kill me.”

Marvin’s tone is sharp, calm with a roiling undertone of rage. Not at Dark, but more at himself for the level he’s stooped to. But still, he knows he has to keep his request concise and without room for interpretation, because if you give a demon an inch they’ll take a mile.

Dark’s eyes dart over the papers, a small flicker of surprise surfacing on his face before being immediately buried.

“Those are the terms?”

“Yes.”

Dark’s aura flares for a moment, the light casting multicolored shadows on the walls.

“Usually these sorts of deals are sealed in blood, but considering the unique circumstances, I’m taking this on your word.”

He leans in, eyes filling with darkness, aura thrashing wildly in the darkness.

“But trust me, I will know if you try to weasel your way out of this. I always know.”

Marvin nods hastedly as Dark settles back into his chair, the darkness in his eyes receding just as quickly as it had arrived.

“But I’m sure you’d never go back on a deal, would you Marvin?”

Marvin shakes his head and Dark nods, looking over the papers once again.

“So what’s the price? My mortal soul? My limbs? My sanity?”

A smile tugs at Dark’s eyes, but his face remains stoic.

“No. While you're close, I have no use for anything of yours.”

Dark stood, pulling a covered jar off of the shelf on the far wall, placing it on the desk before him. He pulled the covering off, revealing a small glowing light about the size of a fingernail. It seemed to pulse with energy, although dimly.

A human soul, but not a whole one.

“What a need from you is a small portion of Sean Mcloughlin’s soul, exactly one percent. I'm sure that number means something to you.”

One percent. Each and every one of Jack’s egos contain exactly one percent of his soul. It's the engine, the source that gave them all life. Dark was asking for the equivalent of one of their lives.

A life for a life.

Horror washed over him, slowly then all at once. He’d been prepared to give up his own life, which he would have willingly done for any one of his brothers, but this? Taking a piece of his creator’s soul by force? Sure, it wouldn't kill him. Not even close. He’d lost five pieces to create all of them, and some others had lost much more. Marvin’s not even sure how Mark still survives with that many pieces of his soul missing.

But the very act of taking it without his permission is what made it so horrible.

What made it a worthy price for what Marvin was asking for.

Dark was testing him. Testing how much he’d be willing to sacrifice for the sake of his brothers.

Marvin only hoped that Jack would be able to forgive him.

“Done.”

Dark pressed a small piece of parchment into his hands, folded into a neat little square.

“Contained on this parchment is the spell you will need to extract the soul fragment. I'd be careful to read it correctly, lest you cause Mcloughlin unnecessary harm.”

Marvin unfolded the paper carefully, eyes darting over the swooping cursive print. A standard Latin incantation, at least at first glance.

Dark noticed his distracted gaze, sliding a small jar across the table to knock him out of his stupor. The glass was carved with symbols, most likely daemotic.

“Use this to keep the soul shard contained. I expect the payment on my desk by 7:00 pm tonight. Don’t be late.”

I can't do it.

Marvin stood over Jack’s bedside, gaze locked onto his ashen, comatose face. This was a violation of the utmost degree, a crime that no one in their right mind would ever forgive him for.

But if I don't, we might never see Jackie ever again.

His hands trembled as they held the parchment, throat closing as the dark letters began to blur.

I can't.

But I have to.

And so the magician began to read. The words were easy enough, he'd read and studied enough Latin to know the words, but the weight of the them almost made him stumble.

As he read the area around Jack’s bedside began to glow a sickening black, the smoke writhing like a living, breathing creature.

It sat poised over Jack’s chest, pausing for a moment, before diving in with enough force to cause the bed springs to creak and the walls to shudder.

Most magic Marvin dealt with was methodical and slow, taking a practiced hand and lots of patience. This magic was no such thing.

It was angry, quick and violent, striking fast and with no warning, so maddened that Marvin could barely keep a hold on it.

The smoke had pulled back up from Jack’s chest, holding with it a volleyball sized sphere of light.

However, even when the dark magic dissipated, the soul still pulsed deeply with darkness. The color was wrong, tinged a deep, bloody red around the edges, black smoke nestled deep within.

A realization hit Marvin so hard he nearly lost his concentration.

Corruption. The final stages of Night Sickness.

But there's no external signs. His skin isn't blackened, he hasn't been coughing up blood or showing signs of a decreased heart rate. How do you corrupt someone this completely with no external symptoms?

Marvin could faintly see five grooves in the surface of the soul, holes, about the size of a fingernail each, one for him and each of his brothers. Another piece began to break off, slowly, pulling against the seething corruption trying to keep the soul intact.

Eventually it failed, the small piece breaking off with a sound like the cracking of broken glass. Discomfort and terror pooled in the pit of Marvin’s stomach as the implications of his actions began to set in again, but he cast them aside, guiding the soul shard into the container Dark had given him. It settled at the bottom, glowing faintly.

How something with no face could seem to be glowering at him, Marvin had no idea.

Without anything keeping it afloat, Jack’s soul began to dissipate, seeping back into him until the ethereal light that bathed the small hospital room faded back into darkness.

The deed was done.

The walk to deliver his payment was a long and slow one, the warmth of the jar an unpleasant reminder of what he’d done.

The soul shard itself was still slightly red tinged and corrupted, settling down at the bottom of the jar rather than floating around like the one Dark had shown him. It seemed so pitiful there, drifting listlessly like a wounded animal.

Dark seemed almost surprised when the jar was placed on his desk, but he quickly cast the sudden shock aside. He opened the jar, peering inside at the soul with a slight air of disgust.

“It seems the little parasite really does corrupt everything he touches.”

After a few more seconds of contemplation Dark sighed, replacing the lid and placing the jar under his desk.

“You've fulfilled your end of the bargain, so I suppose I must fulfill mine. I've done some research, and I know where Anti’s taken your brother.”

Dark turned, pulling a huge paper scroll from the top of the bookshelf behind him. It reeked of age and dust, filling the entire desk as it was unrolled.

A map. A very old one too, written in Daemotic, the historic language of demonkind. While Marvin was familiar with speaking the language, reading it was another story. The characters were alien and strange, pulsing with a power more ancient than any mortal could comprehend.

“Anti’s gotten bolder, it seems. Suicidally bold. He's taken Jackie to Iéfernann, what you'd call Hell or the Underworld.”

“What?!”

Iéfernann? Sure, Marvin had heard of it, it was mentioned many times in his magic books, although there it was usually referred to as the ‘Land Beneath the Curve.’ Humans weren't even supposed to be able to go there, and those that did barely survived more than a few days. It's a land of nightmares, the source of all demonic magic.

“Did I misspeak? Anti has indeed taken him to Hell, if your dreams are to be believed. The cliffs you described are very common, so I have no way of finding the exact ones depicted, but I can tell you that your brother is most likely a dead man.”

Dark lifted his eyes from the map for a moment, settling back into his seat.

“I’ll give you some advice for free: give it up. He's done for.”

Done for? Marvin refused to believe it, even as a settling feeling of dread began to pool in his chest.

Jackie's too strong to go down that easily.

“You're forgetting one part of our deal, demon. How do I get there?”

The look of confusion on Dark’s face was the most emotion Marvin had seen from him all day.

“So the rumors are true, you all really do have a death wish.” Dark sighed, turning in his office chair to grab for another of the trinkets from his bookshelf, setting it down on the desk. “So be it then.”

“What you have before you is an Ostium, your ticket to a painful death.”

It was a sphere about the side of a baseball, clear as glass with a complicated spider web-like metal structure inside. In the center was a second sphere, smaller, that glittered like porcelain in the office’s dim light.

“I haven't calibrated this in centuries, so there's no way of knowing where it'll spit you out. But it's the only way to traverse beneath the curve. Carved into the cover is the incantation you'll need to activate it.”

Marvin turned the sphere over in his palm, studying the daemotic phrases carved into the clear marble coating.

“Don't let anyone get ahold of this, you hear me? There's a reason ostiums are the only way to travel between realms. I’m not even certain how Anti got ahold of one.” Dark’s eyes narrowed as he studied the sphere in Marvin’s hands.

“There are demons in Iéfernann who would do anything to have an ostium. Demons who have spent their entire immortal lives searching for one. They will stop at nothing to get it from you if they know you possess it.”

Holding the heavy charm in his hands, a seed of doubt began to burrow itself into Marvin’s mind. How the hell was he going to explain this to his brothers?

Truth be told, they didn't take it well.

“Are you completely out of your mind?!”

Schneeplestien was pacing the living room, brows deeply furrowed in frustration.

JJ and Chase sat on the couch, and while they hadn’t voiced any opinion yet, the look on their faces made it clear that they shared Schneep’s sentiments.

“No, I am not! I’ve spent months trying to find Jackie and I’ve finally done it!”

Marvin stood behind the couch, watching Schneep as his pacing became more and more erratic. Eventually the other man stopped, his eyes darkened by an exhaustion so palpable that even Marvin could feel it.

“Marvin, I know you want to find Jackie. We all do. But there is no such thing as Hell or the underworld or whatever you want to call it. We should be looking for Jackie practically instead of chasing fantasy stories.”

JJ nodded his acknowledgment, but Chase stayed silent, his gaze fixed somewhere out the window.

“Everything in our world is fantasy, Schneep. We’re fantasy. We’re beings created from imagination and powered by soul magic for fuck’s sake, what’s more fantasy than that?” Marvin pulled the ostium from his pocket, running clammy fingers over the intricate carvings.

“We have to try. We’re nothing without Jackie, he was the glue that held us together. We can’t continue on like this.”

Chase nodded, watching the ostium with new invested interest. “I’m with Marv on this one. Anti’s a demon, who’s the say there isn’t a hell? If there isn’t, where’d Anti come from? D’you think he just popped out of the ground like a zombie or something? One thing’s for sure, he’s not like us.”

Chase was right. Marvin had tried many times to manipulate Anti’s soul shard under the assumption he was like them, a part of Jack. But he had learned very quickly that this was impossible. Anti had no soul. He was another being, formed from powers they had no way of understanding.

“But-“ Schneep groaned in frustration, sitting down in the armchair with more force than was strictly necessary. “Do you realize how dangerous this is? We can barely handle one demon, Marvin. How in heaven and earth do you expect to handle whatever’s down there? You say we can’t go on without Jackie, but I can assure you that we cannot live without you either.” Schneep’s words stopped Marvin short. Of course he’d thought of the dangers. Going to rescue Jackie would involve walking right into enemy territory. So far it had been Anti playing on their turf, but now they were walking into his. But he couldn’t back down now.

We have to try.” Marvin reiterates, voice firm. He had made up his mind.

There was a long pause, the silence deafening, before Chase spoke.

“Well you're sure as hell not going alone. Schneep has to take care of Jack and Jamie’s too inexperienced. You’ll have to take me.”

Marvin opened his mouth to argue but soon realized he was right. Schneep had medical experience yes, but he was needed at home, and Marvin wouldn’t send little Jamie into a mission this dangerous even if he was the last man on earth. Chase was the only option.

“But-“, JJ raised his hands to speak, both noticeably trembling. “What if neither of you return? What will we do then?”

Try as he might, Marvin didn’t have an answer.

Its finally here guys, took me long enough. I have a lot of plans for this series, it just might take me awhile. I hope you all will join me for the journey.

[Taglist]

@egopocalypse @shadowsonthemoon @epicfangirl01 @kitnkas @mijako98 @anothermarkiplierfan @iris-the-asparagus @bunchofdoodlesinspace @the-chemist @a-septic-writer-of-art @cutewarmachine @senseless-septic-shambles

If you want to be added or taken off, just let me know.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #marvin the magnificent #antisepticeye #antisepticeye fanfiction #pluto’s writings #Walk the Line

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crystalninjaphoenix · 6 years ago

Text

The Bad Guy

Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

We got a hero, we got a villain, but which is which? Or are they so tangled up that nobody can tell? Who knows? Actually I do, because I’m the author and I’m writing this blurb thing to conceal the mystery for newcomers lol. This is the story about Anti and Jackie I mentioned last week. It’s the first time Anti had any direct contact with the other boys, and then that became a regular thing and also one of the main driving conflicts of this AU. So yeah, rather important story to cover

Read the intro story: Part One | Part Two

Various other AU-related stuff found here

Taglist: @evyptids @awkward-bullshit @watermelonsinmyattic @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus @metautske @odysseus-is-best-boi @acuriousquail @beerecordings

Jackie knew this city was hell. Sometimes he thought he was the only one who knew, who saw the signs even when taking a simple walk. Why else would he be the only one with the courage to do this? The only one who actively sought out information on what the gangs were up to next? The only one currently perched on the slanted roof of this warehouse, staring through the skylights, waiting for those criminals to show up? Either the citizens just didn’t realize how bad the situation was, or they were too scared to do anything about it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Thank god he remembered to silence it. Nothing much was happening on the floor down below, so he pulled it out and checked the text from Chase that had appeared on screen: You coming home soon?

Jackie rolled his eyes, then pulled off the glove on his right hand so he could type out a reply, chicken-peck style. No. Nothings happened yet

Im bored! Chase replied. Everyone is off doing work shit!

Go talk to Jack or something

Im not at home

Jackie paused. Where the hell are u then??? He thought he knew.

The little typing bubbles stayed for a while before he got Chase’s reply. I dunno the name of the place. Its on Forest Ave. Prices are low so i checked it out. But im still bored drinking alone! Cmon and join me here. Besides didnt you say theyd meet at 11? Its 1230 now and if their not there their probably not coming.

*They’re, dude Jackie glanced back through the skylight. It was true. Members of the Spotted Snakes gang were supposed to meet here at eleven to discuss weapon arrangements. Jackie had even heard there was going to be one of the leaders there. It would’ve been a perfect opportunity to eliminate them, but they hadn’t appeared, and by this point it was just insane for every member to be an hour and a half late. Something must’ve been up. Jackie sent another text to Chase: OK, Im gonna go down and check it out. If I find nothing Ill meet u there.

Whoo! Jackies going out on the town! :D

Night on the town! But dont count on it yet, still might be something up. Text u later Jackie shut off his phone. The skylight was unlocked, as he’d checked two hours ago, so he eased it open. There was a quite a drop to the floor of the warehouse, but luckily he’d prepared for these situations. His belt had a cable with a hook, for climbing easily. Jackie unwound the cable, hooked it around the edge of the skylight, and gently lowered himself down. The moment his feet touched solid ground he yanked on the cable until it unhooked, then retracted it back into his belt.

It looked like a normal warehouse. Huge storage boxes and crates were stacked along the walls and in rows, with a big empty space in the middle where Jackie had landed . There were long metal rafters holding up the slanted ceiling. A few of the large industrial lights were on, casting an eerie glow over the stacks. That alone must’ve been a sign someone was here, but they’d been on since before Jackie had arrived. Maybe they were on a timer?

Well, even if the gang wasn’t here, he might as well look for evidence. Maybe they had some of those alleged weapons stored in those boxes that he could get rid of. The warehouse could go too, they’ll lose a place to meet.

Jackie walked over to the nearest crate. It would be hard to open, even for him, but luckily someone had conveniently left a crowbar on top of it, maybe planning to open it later. Jackie picked it up and, with no small effort, pried the crate open. Nothing was in this one, just a bunch of loose packing peanuts.

One of the lights overhead flickered and died. That was...weird. There must’ve been a whole shitload of lightbulbs inside it, they couldn’t have all gone out at once. Jackie glanced toward it, but couldn’t see anything from this far away. He shrugged it off and moved on to the next crate, also empty. As were the third, fourth, and fifth one.

He had the strangest feeling someone was watching him. At first he put it down to paranoia, but as time went on the feeling only intensified. He stopped his attack on the crates and looked around. He couldn’t see anybody, but that didn’t mean nobody was there. Jackie shouldered the crowbar and stalked away, determined to find out if somebody was actually watching him, or if he was just going crazy.

Another light flickered off. The stacks of boxes were casting long shadows, where anyone could be hiding. Jackie didn’t like it, but he took advantage of it when he could, keeping to the edges of the stacks where the shadows were deepest. No one would see him coming, if anyone was indeed there.

A third light died, this time the one directly above him. And now Jackie was suspicious. Things like that don’t just happen. He glared up at the light, and caught a bit of movement high above. Something...slithery, like a flag in the wind. It definitely wasn’t a loose wire or anything with a normal explanation. Jackie tightened his grip on the crowbar. It wouldn’t do any good from down here, but just in case. “Hey!” he shouted. “If anyone’s up there, I can see you! Why are you hiding?”

There was no doubt about it this time: something big, person-sized, moved on top of the lighting fixture. Whoever it was, they didn’t answer.

“Your cover’s blown!” Jackie said. “And you’ll have to get down at some point. I can wait. Or you can just answer me.”

Nothing for a moment. Then out of nowhere, a person-shaped shadow leaped from the light and landed smoothly on one of the rafters. Something fluttered behind them, probably a piece of clothing. Jackie gaped. How...?

“You’ve got me,” a voice said. Jackie jumped. It sounded like it was right beside him and far away at the same time. And it also seemed familiar for some reason. “What are you going to do now, Jackieboy? Arrest me? Or am I too dange͡ro͟ùs͏ for that?”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Jackie said cautiously. His eyes followed as the shape of the person jumped to another rafter. They—he?—shouldn’t have made that distance. It was much too far. And that voice...if Jackie hadn’t been living with Marvin, unfortunately, for the past year or so, he would’ve been so confused right now. But now he just suspected magic.

“You’ve heard of me,” the voice said. “But we’ve never met. You’d recognize my name if I told you.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?” Jackie asked. “I’m sure we can come to a...an agreement.”

The voice chuckled. “Like the agreement you have with your roommates? You look the other way, and they’ll help you get rid of troublesome tricksters? For someone who brags about his strong morals you sure like to let them bend.”

“How do you know about that?!” Jackie demanded. Then he reconsidered. “I—I mean, not the thing about morals. You’re wrong about that. I mean that I have roommates, and an arrangement.”

“I know a lot about you, Ja̶c͝ki̛ébo͟y.” The voice spat his name out like it tasted bitter. “And I don’t like any of it.”

Jackie growled. “Easy to say from up there. But if you were down on my level, I’d set you straight.”

“Ok̵ày̴,” the voice said, amused. Jackie wasn’t sure what exactly happened next. The shadowy hint of a person was suddenly not in the rafters anymore, and with an electric crack like a computer screen fracturing in two, there was someone right in front of Jackie. He gasped and backed up. The other person stayed stone-still.

The dark lighting fixture overhead burst back into life, while every other light in the warehouse dimmed and died. Jackie stared at the man in front of him. It seemed they’d found a seventh doppelganger: same hair, same build, same eyes. Well, not exactly on that last part, as his right eye was covered by a patch. He wore a black t-shirt, blue jeans with holes in the knees, and black tennis shoes. The green scarf around his neck must’ve been what caught Jackie’s attention up on the lighting. Jackie kept an eye on the man’s hands, in case the man attacked him, but his arms were crossed and Jackie couldn’t see a weapon.

“Well?” the man asked, grinning a bit. “I’ve stooped to your level now. Literally, of course, because I would ņev̷e̵r͢ mean that in the way it’s supposed to be meant.”

“You do realize I didn’t mean that, right?” Jackie said. He tried to sound casual, but he was very aware of the crowbar in his hand. “I get angry sometimes. I just want to know what you’re doing here. The Spotted Snakes were supposed to be meeting here, but nobody showed up. If you know something, I have to be in on that.”

“Why?” the man asked innocently.

“I—look, I—if someone is doing illegal shit in a warehouse like some sort of crime show, someone should stop that! That’s what I do!”

“And w̶h͡ò ̛gave y̨ou tha̴t ̀aut̢hor̶i̸t̵y̧?” the man growled. “The police? Maybe not the best, but they wouldn’t sanction this. The government? Absolutely not. Yourself?” He laughed. “Perhaps if you’d had the right idea, I’d let you. But instead, you have knives on your person and gasoline waiting for you outside. Do you understand why I had to tell them you were coming?”

Jackie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You noticed this place was empty. Did it not occur to you that they were warned the crazy vigilante would be stalking them tonight? How easy is it to send an anonymous text these days?”

“You little—” Jackie didn’t even finish his sentence before lunging forward, swinging the crowbar at the man’s head. But just before it connected, the man dissolved. That was the only word for it, he came apart like loose atoms flying everywhere. Jackie barely caught himself before he fell. The other man reformed to the side, his body still caught partly in that glitchy swarm state.

Jackie turned toward him, seething. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yoų'̷l͢l try͟.”

Jackie swung again, only for the man to dodge. And again, from the other side, to the same result. He tried a feint with the crowbar while going for a hit with his fist. The man disappeared and came back in the exact same spot. Jesus christ, couldn’t this guy just stop cheating for five fucking seconds?! Jackie gritted his teeth and flew forward, giving up on tactic and just trying in vain to land a hit. But he couldn’t, no matter what. The guy just dodged, or glitched out of the way, or let the hits pass right through him.

“T̕h̢i̛s ͢is get̡ţi͠n̢g̨ ͟bor͝i̶n͏g̀,” the man said. And that just made Jackie angrier. Was this a game to him?! Jackie went for one more two-handed swing with the crowbar. But the world broke. That was the only way to explain the momentary freezing of time, the way the surroundings became sharp red and green shapes, the loud hum of screaming static. Jackie dropped the crowbar in shock, then next thing he knew the strange man was behind him, wrenching his arms behind his back. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to immobilize them.

“Are you fucking—” Jackie did his best to stomp on the man’s feet or kick him or something, but he got no reaction no matter how hard he hit.

“I hope you realize yoų a͞re͟n'̸t̴ doin̡g ͠a̸ny͠thìng,” the man remarked. “Now. I have questions. You have answers. We can play a matching game.”

“Fuck off!” Jackie spat. “I’m not gonna tell you anything, and you can’t make me!”

“You don’t ḱn̨ow̢ that,” the man hissed. “Now shut up and let me start. Where’s Jack?”

Jackie stopped struggling out of pure shock. “Wait, what?”

“Where. Is Jack.” The man repeated. “I kn̢ow͠ yo̧u ̛k͠n͝o͏w. You’re one of his rotten f̷̴͟r̵í͡é́͞nd̶͟͞s̛͢͞ that took him. Where is he?”

“Why do you—” Jackie cut himself off. This guy looked a lot like Jack. Could it be? “Wait...you’re his demon friend aren’t you? Anti. The one with the eye-patch that he talked about all the time.”

“Yes, that’s me,” the man—Anti—confirmed. “And I’m not a d̡e͡mo̡n͏. You’ve talked to him, huh?”

“Of course I have! He’s my friend, as you pointed out.” A smile curved his lips. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

Anti’s grip on his arms tightened. “Ẁh̷at̢ ar̸e͡ ̴y̛ou͞ ͏sa̡ying̡?̀”

Jackie laughed. “Just that he’s finally realized the truth about you. You’re a monster. A demon, as much as you deny it. He’s not gonna want to see you again.”

“Y̸̡͞o̡ú're̸̛ ̶̢͢ly̶̢̕i̷͟n̨̕g!̵͡” Anti shoved Jackie away from him, like he couldn’t stand to be near him anymore. Jackie landed hard on the floor, flipping over to face the glitch. The distortion had increased to the point where it was starting to affect the world around him. His visible eye had turned green, with a black sclera. There was a knife in his hand now, gleaming and sharp.

Jackie tensed, getting ready for an attack but not standing up in case that provoked him. “I don’t lie. I’m just telling you what he thinks. And if anything, it’s your fault for being that way. I’ve been told it’s easy to use bad memories from Halloween as a starting point.”

“ W̡͢h̵̢a̢̢̡t̡̕͠ ̨͟͝d͡͞id ̨͡yo͝͏͏u̷ ̷͠d͡o ͟͟to̴̷͢ ͏̛h̶̡i̢m?̷̧” Anti growled.

“I didn’t do anything. I just don’t stop people from doing things.”

“A̸nd how ͢n̴ob̕le͢ ́of̷ you!͠ H̴ow ͠h̕e̕r̵oi͏c̷!” Anti flipped the knife into a stabbing position. “Th̛a̸t's̸ exac̕tl̕y wh͡at ̕a͢ ̛s͡up̡e̵rh̨e͝ro wo̕u̧l̨d d̴o, s̢i͡t͠ a̡ro͠und and ͡watc̕h b̛y̸st́an̷de̢rş ̡b̷e͡ hurt͡.̛” His lip curled in disgust. “T͝oo̸ s͞c͏are̴d t͢o ̸e͝n̢dan̢ger̴ ỳou͏r̵ ̸l̸it͏tl͡e ́fr̸i͟ends̡hips͝ ̨w͢ith ́t̀he̷ ͏ba̷d ̧gu��ys̴ to ̷do ͞so̶m̵et͢hi̶nǵ g͡ood͢ fơr on͠ce,̶ ̵t͟h̕en?!”

“I do good things all the time!” Jackie protested. “The streets are safer with me out on them.”

“N̴ó,̧ ͝th̶ey͡'͠re̕ ̕f͡uck͡in͟g̢ worse be͟ca͏use anyo̕ne̶ ̀cou͞l̨d̀ b͢e ͟dragged̷ ͠i͝ntơ an̵ ̵a͞lley ̶a̵nd ͟iǹt͟err̡ǫga͡ted ͢be̷cau͝se ̶th̸éy ̛ḿaý ̸be͟ a̧ cr̀i͠min͡a͟l̡!̢”

“You know what?!” Jackie stood up, keeping an eye on the knife. “Why don’t you stop accusing me and start looking for answers! I can take it! I’ll give you as much as I get, I can promise you that!”

Anti stared at him. Then, with a glitch, the knife in his hands disappeared. The distortion lessened. “I'̢m͏ ͝n͢ot l͞i̢k͏e̴ y̵o̴u,” he said bitterly. “Sometimes I think I could be. Bu̶t ̨I̢'̢m̶ n̢ó̵͡t̨̛.͟ And I’m trying to keep it that way, something your little group is̢n͞'ţ h̨e͠l̛p̷i͏ng̛ wi̶th́.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll find him myself.”

Jackie was stunned. This wasn’t how he was expecting it to go. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t get it. If Anti wanted information, why wasn’t he seeking it out? In an effort to cover up his confusion, he laughed. “Oh, good luck. Marvin’s got the house warded, and we got some upgraded manpower now that this new guy’s joined up.”

Anti smiled. “Thanks for that.”

Wait, no. “Wh-what?” Jackie stuttered.

“Now I know he’s just at your house. And I know where that is. So, th̢a͡nk͏s͞.͠” Anti turned on his heel and vanished in an explosion of pixels. All the overhead lights turned off.

Jackie just stood there for a moment. Had he really just? And given away information? But he was fine? This guy...this Anti guy...god, he was the worst. He was the fucking worst. Something needed to be done.

He leaned over and picked up the crowbar. Hey, no sense in leaving a perfectly good tool in the middle of an empty warehouse. Then he reached into his belt and took out the flashlight, making sure he could see in this new dark. He started towards the exit, taking out his phone on the way.

Chase, r u still there? he texted.

Almost immediate reply. Yeah dude! Not on Forest anymore, tho, so I guess youll need the address of the new place

No! Forget that! Jackie hurried to text. Look some big shit just went down and EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW. Get back home and tell the others im on my way

Damn dude whats the rush?

Yknow Jacks demon friend he used to talk about? The one James messed up his head of?

Yeah

Thats the rush. Now i remember Jack said this guy was all electronic so im not gonna give details but get everyone there right now. Call it a family meeting if you have to this is obligatory. Got it?

Wow. Okay that actually sounds important. On it, see you later

See u

Jackie exited the warehouse and entered the cool December night. This Anti was a threat. Not only had he interfered with Jackie’s plan, but now he wanted to get Jack back? Honestly, Jackie didn’t mind that second part so much, but he knew the others would, especially Chase. He couldn’t risk getting on the guys’ bad side.

And the way Anti had talked back there had really pissed him off. Like he was the one saving people. Nobody even knew he existed. Jackie knew he’d done more for this city than anyone else. And Anti had talked to him like that? Like he was the one messing everything up.

He was wrong. Jackie would prove it if he had to. He would show that this way was the only way.

Jackie started running back towards the house. First step was to let the others know. Next step? He hadn’t thought that far yet.

But whatever they decided, he would do it. The ends greatly justify the means.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jackieboy man #antisepticeye #brigid writes fanfiction #septics inverted au #invertedau

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thephantomofthe-internet · 6 years ago

Text

Homeward Bound: Chapter 13

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Henderson!Reader

Chapter Summary: a rush of fate brings two souls together...

Word Count: 6,946

Warnings: swearing, cheating, generally angst and fluff

Author’s Note: please send all complaints to @moonstruckhargrove-she wanted an update and I got you girl

Permanent Tag: @hotstuffhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hargrovesgoldilocks @hipsmcgee @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @casaharrington @thechickvic

Series Tag: @baebee35 @moonstruckhargrove @kurt-nightcrawler @thoughstofaredhead @fear-the-reaper115 @estheflowergirl @alex--awesome--22 @onemorekissisallittakes

“Jesus you need to stop doing that!” you cried, smacking Steve in the chest roughly, earning a hearty laugh and a warm smile that stirred something in your chest and made it hard to keep a smile off your face.

“Why would I? It’s fun!” he chuckled in response, turning to look at you fully, his eyes widening as he looked you over, making you both shy and hopeful. “Your hair!” he breathed.

“Yeah, I cut it all off.” You replied, running your fingers through it. “Is it bad?”

“No! It’s cool!” he cried, ruffling it like an older brother, making your heart drop in your chest for reasons you couldn’t exactly explain. All you knew is that that little gesture made you feel incredibly small and childish. You wished your hair was long and sleek again.

“Whatever…” you muttered, trying to hide the bitterness in your voice “Shouldn’t you be at work or something? It’s like the middle of the afternoon.”

“How much crime do you really think is in Hawkins now?” he mused with a smirk “Besides, I wanted to pop by here before I go to see Joyce and the kids.” He turned his attention to Jonathan, offering him a ‘hey man’ and a stiff hug. The two were never exactly close and while time healed the wounds shared between him and Nancy, Jonathan held grudges. Specifically, he held grudges over mistakes atoned for in junior year; Nancy ‘the slut’ Wheeler still rang loud and clear in his head at even the thought of Steve Harrington.

“I’d wait, not a great time, ‘specially for a guy in full uniform.” Jonathan said, earning a tight nod from Steve, who turned back to the crowd awkwardly. All of the mothers in the room were watching him like wolves, their teeth practically glistening behind their painted smiles. Karen looked absolutely murderous in her jealousy; now seeing the inherent value of marrying her daughter into a rich family with a successful son now that her daughter was married to a less than successful son of an only recently successful family. Likewise, your mother saw the value in Steve and was watching you two with proverbial hearts in her eyes, a dreamy expression on her face.

“So…where are you two going tonight then?” your mother asked giddily, practically smirking at you and Steve.

“What is she talking about?” Steve whispered to you, maintaining a polite smile towards the moms.

You shook your head, shrugging softly as you turned to your mother “We’re not going anywhere. I meeting Jenny Stein for dinner tonight.” You said, watching Steve’s face drop as the words left your lips.

“Didn’t you already see her this trip?” you mother sighed bitterly as Karen did her damndest to hold back a snicker, obviously excited about your seeming rejection of him.

“Yeah, but I’m meeting with her, Marvin Rubio, and a few other people. The leftovers, you know?” you replied vaguely, waving your hand through the list.

“Well, I’m that will be very nice, Y/N, are you leaving on Sunday or Monday?” your mother asked testily.

“Currently my flight is booked for Monday; I can change it to Sunday if that’s a problem, though.”

“Hmm…well I would love to have to till Tuesday, but I’ll settle for Monday.”

“Well…I don’t know if I’ll go that far, I do have to go home eventually. I have to go back to work.”

“It’s alright darling.”

You could feel Steve’s eyes burning into the back of your head and you couldn’t help but glance back at him. His expression was one of hurt and burning anger; he looked as though you’d committed a giant sin against him. Maybe that would’ve been his expression if you’d cheated on him rather than the other way around. You sent him a small smile, knowing that he knew that you were lying to your mother. It made your heart ache, because you knew you had hurt him. And that thought made you feel angry; because Steve never felt that pain. When you caught him and Elaine-god you hated her name-he might’ve felt bad for a minute, at least he pretended to, and then he and Elaine became an item and you were left on the side, unofficially broken up and even more broken than you were before. When he brought her home for Christmas, the last year you ever came home for the holiday, you’d just made up your mind to drop out of college and watching them flirt and flail about, you made up your mind about Steve: he was not a good man, like everyone thought he was, he was a heartless beast inside the body of a good guy.

You glanced superficially at the clock, not really checking the time but showing the group that you were checking the time “I should get going, I have to call my boss and clear up a few things before he gets in too deep with the new pile.” You announced, picking up your purse off the couch and ruffling Holly’s hair, who’d zoned out long ago.

“Are you sure? We’ve hardly even seen you!” Karen complained “I wanna hear about your new book your mother’s been talking about, apparently it’s expected to be a hit.”

You rolled your eyes “I haven’t written anything under my own name yet Karen, although my writing is making waves. Georgia Kane’s latest trash bestseller, Not so Miss. America, was a great success on my part. Did you read it? It’s your genre. Anyway, writing that got me a raise.” You replied, watching both your mother and Karen falter, each embarrassed for different reasons. “But other than that I’m not working with much buzz.”

When neither woman responded, you pulled your bag onto your shoulder and gave Nancy and Jonathan’s shoulders tight squeezes. “Alright, I’m gonna head out. I’ll leave the car with you, ma. See you all tomorrow!” you said, waving politely to the crowd and heading quickly out the door.

The sun had hit its peak in the sky, trying in vain to beat down the cool breeze gently rustling the leaves, weather that didn’t exactly match the season, but was a welcome change to the hot, sticky weather you’d endured during your stay. You were more than happy to walk in this weather, glad to take in the sunlight and cool breeze for awhile.

Unfortunately, Steve had followed you out.

“Lemme give you a lift, Henderson.” He called from the porch and you resisted the urge to turn around to respond to him. He hadn’t called you by your last name the whole trip. This was not a good sign.

“That’s alright, Harrington, I’d like to walk.” You replied, following suit and continuing down the driveway and onto the sidewalk. That should’ve been the end, but like a happy go-lucky golden retriever, he followed behind you, nipping at your heels.

“Then lemme walk you, I wanna talk.”

“Your car’s here.” You stopped dead in your tracks, finally turning to look at him and take in his concerned expression. “It would be a waste to walk all the way back to my place and then come here again. You wanted to visit with them, so stay. I can call you later at the station.”

“No you won’t,” he replied, shutting you up instantly “So I’m gonna walk with you for awhile.” You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat and continuing, much slower, down the path.

“What’s up?” you asked shyly, keeping your eyes on your shoes rather than him.

“Why are you going out with Hargrove tonight?” he asked shortly, crossing his arms over his chest, watching you carefully.

“What makes you think I am?”

“Come off it, Henderson, if you’re gonna reuse a lie, don’t do it in front of the person who made it up.” You sighed, nodding softly; he got you there.

You looked up, meeting his eye for the first time as you turned off the Wheeler’s street “I’m seeing him because…he asked? And I wanted to. And that’s that.” You said.

“That’s not much of a reason.”

You huffed “Do you have deep reasons when you go out with a girl beyond wanting to?” Steve didn’t reply, only sighing softly, shaking his head, angering you further.

“No, you don’t. Cause most of the time, you don’t need a deep reason to go out with someone. So don’t hold me to higher standard than everyone else. I’m no better.”

“It’s selfish.” Steve told you harshly, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.

“What?” you fumed, voice no higher than a whisper.

“He’s in love with you, you said it yourself. And you don’t love him. You’re getting his hopes up.” Steve replied quickly; aggressively, angrily.

“And you haven’t done anything selfish in your life.” You bit out callously

Steve narrowed his eyes, almost sneering at you “What are you implying?”

“Did you ever love Elaine?” you snapped, silencing him immediately simply with your steely gaze. “Did you ever love me?” you pressed wishing your voice didn’t crack and your throat didn’t close.

“Y/N…” he replied and in an instant broke your heart with the heavy sigh he breathed out instead “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” you said, shaking your head, holding your lips firm to keep the lower one from wobbling pathetically. “Yeah no that’s not an answer. And you never have an answer. So don’t ask me for one now.”

You ran off before Steve could give you a response, before he could even try. You were home and inside before you ever realized you’d ran, your heart pounding in your heaving chest as you brushed your hair away from your eyes as you tried to calm yourself and keep the tears from flowing in rivers down your cheeks.

This was the proof you need. Billy was the right choice. Steve was so desperately wrong it was insane, you couldn’t believe you thought that…no, no you never thought that. If you’d thought that, then you liked him. And you didn’t like him. Ever. Billy was a better choice-sure he was both too much and not enough emotionally, but that can be trained out. Just because he didn’t speak your love language doesn’t mean he couldn’t learn. And this date would prove it.

You found yourself growing more and confident in the idea as you went through your day. You called your agent, something you didn’t think you could do and told him the honest truth-that you couldn’t take the novel to publish if you didn’t have the blessing of the people who inspired it, and he told you the honest truth that if you didn’t give it a definitive ending, no one would buy it. That was, surprisingly, an okay thing to hear and you accepted the information easily.

Of course, ending the novel seemed impossible. Because the story itself didn’t have an ending, not really. Sure, the trial ended the labs and sent people to jail, but the scars remain. And you couldn’t pretend that they didn’t have an effect on your life now. You weren’t ashamed to admit that the main character was based on yourself and your own life in Hawkins. You couldn’t write the story from anyone else’s point of few, it wouldn’t feel whole. But that gave you a problem because your story didn’t have an ending. You were a broken person, you didn’t sugar coat that, you weren’t the same girl you were even five years ago. But that wasn’t an ending, that was just a place to stop. And you didn’t want to build one whole cloth. You didn’t know how to even justify that to yourself, but you had to and so you would.

You just wouldn’t do it now.

Instead, you decided to look as effortlessly pretty as you could. You didn’t have much makeup on you; you hadn’t planned to be seen so often, so you trekked out to the nearest drugstore and found a tiny packet of eye shadow that complimented your eyes and, out of some old instinct of preteen-hood, a pearly pink nail polish. You spent the rest of the day trying to find the beauty your mother swore was there under the sneer and sarcasm of your teen years. By the end of your hard work, you’d found an older looking girl with clear eyes lined and painted in soft shadows and framed by enhanced eyebrows and a soft smile brightened with a rosy blush and glossy lips.

You felt, for the first time in the whole trip, intentionally pretty.

Beauty was something, you felt, was not something that was felt consistently. You found yourself trying harder and harder to focus on other things-your mind, your actions, your work, your loves-rather than your looks. You’d spent so long during your teen years worrying and thinking about your looks and beauty and now, as you’d aged and grown up, it felt sillier and sillier, a coping mechanism of youth you didn’t need to use anymore. But the feeling, as we all seemed to cause it, of ugliness swept you up sometimes. Some days, you woke up bright eyed and, objectively, pretty, but other days that creeping feeling of self-loathing that could only be attributed to the reflection in the mirror. You hadn’t put any effort into your appearance during the trip thus far, save for brushing your hair and putting on the barest amount of makeup possible, and only because your mother was insistent on it. You didn’t feel the need until now.

Now, you felt as though you had someone to impress, to put in the same level of work that you were certain Billy was putting in himself. It was a mutual, shared primping process done before any date. You knew the process well, the process seemingly become more and more important as you entered your twenties. You couldn’t really compare this to anyone else-you didn’t have many friends in San Diego and the closest female friend you had was your neighbour Stella, who despite not being in a relationship, hadn’t been on a date in three years, not since her son’s father ran off when she announced the pregnancy. You didn’t know if the process was a product of aging or just something expected of you as you aged; but you did note that every girl your age was trying to top every other girl around you. Maybe that was just California.

Still, when seven o’clock rolled around, you found yourself watched the front lawn with baited breath from the bathroom window, looking for signs of the tow truck or, hopefully, the Camaro since you missed it so much. You were excited, which was odd since you kind of hated him after the whole ‘I love you’ thing, and the feeling buzzed in your veins and coloured your cheeks.

But the feeling began to die as seven turned to seven fifteen and then to seven thirty. Finally, you just decided to march yourself downstairs and out the front door. You knew where he lived and if he was pulling some payback sort of shit, you could easily find him and cut off his dick. He’d deserve it too.

“I thought you were meeting for seven?” your mother called as you headed for the front door.

You stifled a sigh “We pushed the time back to eight for Marvin, he’s working late at the restaurant.” You lied, tossing your purse over your shoulder and slipping on your shoes.

“It’s so nice that Marvin still works for the family business, especially after his selfish siblings ran off to do other things.” You mother mused aloud and you turned back to look at her, noting the flour in her hair and the large mixing bowl and wooden spoon in front of her, a model image of fifties wifehood minus the poodle skirt and beehive hairdo.

“I guess it’s nice that his siblings have a backup plan though…in case everything goes to shit for them, you know?” you replied with a shrug.

“That’s exactly my point! The Rubio’s are excellent planners! I wish I had a business to pass down to you if this whole writing thing doesn’t pan out.” Your mother sighed and you stifled an eye roll, not wanting to offend her.

“Eh, I can always marry rich.” You said, earning a snicker from your mother. You decided not to look into that response and head out, scanning the street from your porch before jumping down the steps and heading down to the end of your street with arms crossed over your chest and teeth clenched in a hardened scowl. You couldn’t stand anyone else being late, despite yourself preferring to be a little late to everything, a hypocritical stance you held onto with pride. You, with great annoyance, began the slow trek up to the only place you thought he could be hiding.

“Hey baby, where’d you think you’re going?” you heard someone holler and you turned to look out towards the road, eyes catching the rusted brown truck that had tried to pass you in the opposite direction, and Billy Hargrove leaning out the passenger side window, tongue waggling out of his mouth and eyes leering. His hair was slicked with sweat, grease swiped on his forehead and was most likely coating his hands, and while you couldn’t deny that he was certainly attractive, the gap between your levels of effort was a canyon rather than a simple pothole. It was a significant let down, yo0u felt as though your efforts had gone to waste. Still, you put on a smirk and turned, hands planting themselves on your hips jutted to one side.

“You’re late.” You mused, watching him with a twinkle in your eye and a bemused expression.

You were always a fairly good actor.

“You gonna hold it against me?” Billy countered smoothly, watching for a change in your eyes.

Although with Billy as your audience, it wasn’t hard.

“Maybe…” you giggled, sashaying over to the car and pulling the handle and nearly knocking him out of the car to your feet. He pulled himself in, sliding across the bench and back into the technical driver’s seat, patting the seat next to him for you to take. You tried to ignore the sheer amount of garbage piled up at your feet as you smiled at him. He revved the weak engine, speeding off as fast as he could, which wasn’t very fast, and you giggled the same way you did when you were a teenager, grabbing onto the handgrip to keep you steady despite your lack of seatbelt, giving Billy an unneeded ego boost.

You didn’t know where you were going, but that was par for the course with Billy; he did things on the fly and that meant flying by the seat of your pants and not questioning too much. You used to not mind, but now it planted a worried seed in your stomach. You liked to be in control, to be in charge of your own location and destination. And while you were in charge of where you were, you weren’t in charge of where you were headed and that worried you to no end.

But you didn’t bother asking. You’d only get vague nothing answers and that would only upset you more. And besides, you knew Hawkins well enough to escape any situation he could drag you into, and you knew the highways well enough to get back into town if you had to jump out of the moving car. God, Hawkins brought out the survivalist in you.

You were pleasantly surprised when he pulled up to Benny’s, as you still insisted on calling it, although you weren’t impressed by his parking job, taking over almost three parking spots with his truck, claiming that it was a necessity to keep the thing safe as it wasn’t fully his, which you thought was all bullshit. You bite your tongue, however, choosing to not get into it and letting him wrap an arm snugly around your waist, pulling you closer than necessary.

As he entered the diner, his whole demeanour changed. He stood impossible straighter, taller and took up even more room. You found yourself being held tighter and closer to his side, making it hard to walk and led you to be mostly pulled around by him. He chose a booth on the far side of the diner, despite the other side being less busy. You didn’t understand why until you saw the waitress.

She had to be a year or two younger than you and looked like a small town Brooke Shields, right up to the big, wide eyed innocent hazel eyes. She was tall and thin and her hair was bigger than her head. You wondered how she’d ended up working in a diner instead of being the next big star, and then you remembered that this was Hawkins and nobody ever seemed to make it big. When she saw the pair of you, her smile turned weary and she spent just a second too long with the table next to yours and made a beeline to the kitchen instead of coming to you next, promising vaguely to be right with you. Not that Billy seemed to mind, he was watching her dreamily.

You should’ve been annoyed, hell maybe a part of you was, but mostly you were incredibly curious. There was a story there, you could tell. And you planned to figure out what it was.

Billy didn’t turn to look at you until you cleared your throat loudly and when he did, he looked completely annoyed to be doing so. “Are you alright?” you asked softly, leaning on your elbows to look at him with a sympathetic expression you pulled out of your ass “You seem distracted…”

“I’m fine. Just wondering where our waitress went.” He replied glumly, disappointment obvious in his voice.

“She looks like Brooke Shields doesn’t she?” you watched as his expression changed, looking at you curiously, his eyebrow rising significantly as if to tell you to go on. You didn’t however, instead waiting patiently for a response.

“Who?”

“You ever see the movie Blue Lagoon?” Billy shook his head. “How about Pretty Baby?” you tried. His whole expression perked up again, not in knowing but in excited memory.

“Yeah! I remember sneaking in to see that movie in theatres. It was like a crazy sex movie or something; everyone was talking about it for awhile.” Billy announced like a giddy child in the know.

“I guess? I think that was more for Blue Lagoon, that movie just got banned in a bunch of places. Anyway, the main girl in that movie-that’s Brooke Shields. She’s also in Endless Love.” You replied with frown, already noticing how he wasn’t paying attention to you anymore. Your waitress had returned with menus in hand and Billy was watching her closely with a smirk, not so much a forced one either like he did when he was trying to establish him dominance, but a real one that seem to be pulled from deep attraction. And the girl was blushing under his gaze, squirming like a beetle flipped on its back.

“Hi, I’m Rosemary, I’ll be your waitress for tonight, get I get you guys some drinks or do you need a second to look it over?” she addressed her initial opener only to you, smiling warmly down at you, clearly glad to not have to only address the man undressing her with his eyes.

“Um…I’ll have…” you mumbled, going over the menu briefly, double checking to ensure your usual order was still on the menu. “I’ll have a chocolate shake and a cheese burger, side fries.” You said simply, smiling up at her and handing back the menu.

“You know what I like, Rosie.” Billy said, handing back his. Their hands touched briefly and his thumb caressed her fingers gently, softening her expression and darkening her blush just for a second. It was as though you’d stepped into a bad teen movie; you were the forgotten friend watching on as the love interests fell in love right before your eyes.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a second with your drinks.” She said, clearing her throat and skittering off, busying herself behind the counter and sliding the slip into the wheel of orders above the pickup window, ringing the bell. Billy watched her closely and, after he waited the right amount of time you assumed, he stood from his side of the bench and announced that he was headed to the bathroom, leaving you alone at the booth.

You’d pieced together that they were, at one point, in a relationship, but something had gotten in the way. And by the way little Rosemary was looking at him, it had been a painful end. The whole thing was playing out like Austen novel, it was all very Persuasion-love lost lovers, separated by circumstance and still lusting desperately for one another. You would pity them, if only it didn’t seem like it was one sided. Billy was watching her like she was a piece of meat and not a person, a grave difference in reaction to one another.

You didn’t know where he’d wandered off to, nor did you care. This night was not going to end where you thought it would and that thought made you just a little sad.

“I’m sorry, are you Y/N Henderson?” you heard a voice behind you ask. You turned around, meeting the wide, brown eyes of Carol Danforth, who was peering at you as though you were a figment of her imagination.

You smiled back, waving politely “Hi Carol, it’s nice to see you again.” You said softly, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Oh my god it is you! Hi! How are you, what’re you doing back?” she grinned, giggling and calculating.

“I’m back for my younger brother’s graduation, I’ve been in for a week and a half.” You replied, catching the eye of the nervous girl across from Carol. You turned fully, pulling your knees up on the bench and reaching your hand over to greet her “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Wendy…” she muttered, eyes watery, not bothering to shake your hand.

“Don’t mind her; she’s just upset over your date.” Carol said softly, hand cupped over her mouth.

“Billy break your heart?” you asked, ignoring Carol pleading looks to stop talking.

She hummed, swallowing hard “He said he…loved me…” she said shakily.

You nodded “He told me the same thing when I ran into him. I think he’s forgotten the definition of the word.”

“No, he’s just in love with someone else and won’t admit it yet.” Carol said, making you turn to look at her and following her gaze to the scene unfolding before your eyes. Billy had returned from the bathroom, or maybe he’d never gone in the first place, either way he was leaning over the counter and making eyes at her and making her laugh. They looked good together, something that made your heart feel so much lighter. He didn’t love you, he never did. He loved this little thing with a sexy pout and wide, innocent eyes. And that was more than okay with you.

“What’s the story there?” you asked, watching them spellbound.

“From what I’ve heard, he met her here when he was working construction after high school and they fell for each other. They were together for a year and then he cheated on her with Wendy over here. She dumped him, and he’s been chasing her down ever since.” Carol explained.

You furrowed your brow “But wait…I thought he was living in California until a couple years ago.”

Wendy and Carol looked at each other curiously before looking back to you. “He never left town.” Carol said.

“Yeah, he’s been here since graduation. Never left.” Wendy added awkwardly, before asking “What did he tell you he was doing here?”

“He said he was living here because his father died and he was handling his affairs. That he used to live in San Diego…” you said softly, almost embarrassed by the deceit.

“His father did die, but Billy didn’t handle anything with it. He told me he was disinherited. His step-mom handled it, he didn’t even go to the funeral.” Wendy explained to you. Suddenly, the whole situation became a lot clearer. And the image forming wasn’t one you liked.

Billy was returning to the table, as was Rosemary with a tray of drinking. And if destined in the stars, she tripped on the edge of the tile and you were coated in your own milkshake. And Rosemary screamed rather than you, hands rushing to cover her mouth.

“I am so sorry! Oh my goodness!” she screamed, grabbing napkins and rushing to help you wipe your face. You found yourself grinning, laughing even at what had just happened.

“It’s alright! No harm done, honestly.” You said, standing from your seat. Billy wasn’t even fazed by what had happened, he was so happy to be looking down Rosemary’s uniform as she wiped it up the mess she’d made on the floor.

Rosemary wasn’t paying much attention to him, she took your sticky arm and pulled you away from the bench “Here, I have a spare shirt in my locker, let’s try to get the stain out of your shirt.

“It’s okay, really, you don’t have to.” You tried with a smile. If you were reading this girl right, you were going to get exactly what you wanted from her.

“No, no let me help, I feel so bad!” she cried and you relented, letting her lead you into the bathroom before rushing off and instructing you to take off your blouse and soak it in the sink.

She returned quickly with a plain cotton tee shirt marked with the label of the diner printed on the front. She shrugged softly, handing it to you “Technically, you’re supposed to pay for these, but nobody does and I won’t tell if you won’t.” she said and you found yourself nodding as you pulled it on. It was a bit snug, but you much preferred it to the wet shirt you had on before.

“Thank you so much.” You grinned, tossing your shirt in the sink and turned on the faucet.

“Here, let me see if there’s a plastic bag or something in the back for you to throw that in. I wouldn’t want to keep you in here too long, can’t keep Billy waiting on you…” she said and you noted the sad turn in her voice. Now was as good of a time as any to ask.

You grabbed her wrist gently before she could completely turn away from you. “Can I ask you a somewhat personal question?” you asked, earning a bewildered and worried look from the taller girl.

“You can, but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer it.” she said and you liked her already.

“I noticed Billy…well, staring at you. Can I ask what the deal is there? Cause it’s a little weird if there isn’t a story.”

Rosemary sighed, her shoulders and head slumping down, her brown locks becoming a halo of curls around her head. “It’s not…it’s a long story. But it’s not weird, his staring I mean.”

“I don’t need the story, if you don’t want to tell it, but I can tell you that Billy doesn’t look at everyone like that.” Rosemary shook her head, disheartened by something in her head that you couldn’t see. “I’m serious! I use to date him and he never looked at me that way, and he used to say that he loved me.”

That might have not been the best thing to say, it seemed, as it triggered a slow, steady stream of tears down her cheeks. You quickly grabbed her hands, squeezing them tightly. “He doesn’t love me…” she whispered hoarsely, trying not to sob too loudly.

“What do you mean?” you replied, looking up at her sympathetically.

“He…he…” she took a gulping breath “We dated and it got serious and I told him that I loved him and he wouldn’t say it back. He couldn’t say it back. And we broke up but…I love him.”

You found yourself smiling; there was an easy answer to this problem. “Sweetheart,” you said, shaking your head solemnly “He loves you.”

“No, no he doesn’t he would’ve-”

“No, he wouldn’t. Billy has the emotional reverence of a clogged pipe. He can’t say it to you, because you’re the person he cares about, but he can say it to anyone else. And he has-he’s been saying to every other girl he can find because he’s scared to say it to you.”

“That makes no sense.” She pouted softly, pulling her hands away to cross them over her chest.

“You say that like Billy ever makes sense. He has a logic all his own. But if you can understand even a bit of it, then you know him. I know him well enough to know that he doesn’t love me, despite the fact that he told me that he did last week. And I want to help in whatever way I can, and if that means publicly embarrassing him to help you, then I will.”

She stood silent for a good few moments, mulling over everything you’d said. You watched as her face broke into a small smile, clearly not opposed to the idea. “Can you do that?” she asked softly.

“I can do whatever I want. Now, please go and find me that bag, I’ll take care of our dummy.” You replied with a smirk, looking yourself over in the mirror. This would take an easy skill. You left your shirt in the sink and marched out into the dining room, putting on your hardest expression.

“Hargrove.” You snapped, finding him paying the bill at the counter, two Styrofoam counters stacked up on top of each other and deeply disappointed scowl on his lips. He turned and, for a brief moment, looked at you as though it was his own mundane reflection looking back at him. He found the surprised expression he needed and then let it settle into one of pity.

“There you are! I handle this, come on let’s get you home.” He said, looking around the room as though the very sight of you was embarrassing him.

“Sit.” You snapped, pointing back to the booth and nodding over when he didn’t move immediately. He relented with a groan, sliding back in with great and obvious annoyance.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you asked, earning a bewildered look from the boy.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh don’t start with that, you know why I’m about to yell at you. What the fuck is your problem-you’re gallivanting around with every girl in sight and breaking poor Rosemary’s heart instead of just admitting that you love her.”

Billy sighed, lowering his head. When he looked up again, he didn’t look guilty-he looked tired. “I don’t…I don’t love her.”

“Well I know for a fucking fact you don’t love me like you said you did. And you sure as hell don’t love little Wendy back there, I bet you didn’t even remember her name till I said it.” you cried.

“How the hell would you know how I feel?”

“Because,” you countered, leaning in to truly hold his eye contact “I know you better than you realize. And I know you don’t say what you feel to the people that can help. You say it to anyone else.”

“So? That doesn’t mean that I love her.”

“Okay, riddle me this: why did you lie to me about living in San Diego?” you asked simply.

“Because I-” he started into another lie, but when he looked in your eyes, his dropped the sentence off, sighing softly “Because I didn’t want you to think I was a loser.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding softly “And why did you tell Wendy that you love her?”

Billy smirked “To get her in bed.” You heard the muffled gasp and moan of poor Wendy behind you, clearly falling back into tears. You didn’t look back.

“And why did you break up with Rosemary?” you asked, watching the smirk fall away and him shy away immediately.

“Don’t make me say it…” he muttered.

“No, say it cause I wanna know.” You snapped back, raising your brows.

“Because I was scared alright? God damn it Y/N, why are you interrogating me?” he cried, huffing and pouting like a child.

“Because I want an answer! Because poor Rosemary needs an answer, okay? Because you spent the whole night watching her with these big, stupid puppy dog eyes and it drove me nuts because you’re so obvious it’s not even funny!” you countered, matching both his volume and tone.

“You’re right, okay?” he relented softly “I do…you know…”

“I know you do.” You smiled, earning an annoyed scoff “Now go tell her that.” Billy stayed put, hands shaking just a tiny bit, his eyes shifted from her at the counter to you across from him. He looked so nervous, like a little boy about to admit to his first crush, and it made your heart melt just a little. You believed that he’d been in love before, but not at this level. Not in this fully adult way. You were proud of him, in that sense, for finally coming to terms with adulthood and the responsibilities you have to your partners, understanding that they becoming your family after awhile.

You took his hand gently, squeezing it softly “You deserve happiness, Bill, but you have to get it for yourself. It won’t always come to you on its own.” You murmured to him and, for once, he seemed to listen. He nodded, letting your hand go and getting up from his seat. You took the opportunity to grab your food from the pile and stand as well, finding the plastic bag with your wet blouse in it on the opposite end of the counter. You didn’t spare a glance to Carol and Wendy, although you could hear Carol’s grumbling as Wendy tried to muffle her sobs. In fact, you only turned once, when Rosemary cried out a watery ‘yes!’ from behind you. You turned just in time to see Billy pull off one of his tarnished silver rings and slip it onto her left hand. You shook your head, chuckling at the quite honestly adorable scene in front of you, watching Billy get the life squeeze out of him by his bride to be and hearing Wendy’s sobs get louder as Carol dragged her out of the booth and out the front door, flipping you off along the way. You guessed now you really weren’t invited to that wedding.

You slipped out the front door and into the cooler summer night, the sun waning in the sky as warm pinks and oranges overtook the blue and made a gorgeous cocktail of colours. A soft, warm breeze blew through the trees edging on the diner and the sound of cars driving down the interstate behind you filled the whole atmosphere with the ends of day trips with tired, sunburnt kids half asleep in the backs of cars as dad rock played softly through the speakers. It was the type of scene you knew so well from childhood.

Of course, you were in a whole different scene entirely.

You were alone in a parking lot, hair sticky and clumped with dried ice cream and whipped cream, your arms still sticky despite being wiped down and a prominent stain drying into your favourite skirt. You were alone and with no way of getting home. And there was no way in hell you’d get back in the car with Billy, not with his new fiancé, both of them itching to tear each other’s clothes off. You were going to half to walk it alone.

“Well that was a fucking waste of time…” you muttered, huffing out a sigh before trudging into the woods. You didn’t want to walk the highway in, just in case you were spotted or worse, hit. You go through the woods and hope that your anxiety didn’t get the best of you.

You spent your walk mostly running or jogging, trying to avoid roots and fallen logs. Your heart was racing and you had to avert your eyes to the now quarantined labs as you ran past, their fences still holding something inside too ominous to let free or tear down. You tried to think of positive, happy things. You would certainly get an invite to the new couples wedding, that would be lovely you hadn’t been to a wedding at all since Jonathan and Nancy’s rushed courthouse ceremony, and not a grand ceremony and reception since your mother and Richard. But thoughts of white dresses and tuxedos only distracted your mind for so long and eventually, after the sun finally set, you had to talk yourself out of the woods altogether, opting to hurry down Cherry Lane, four streets below yours.

You remembered that the Mayfield’s lived there, once even with their Hargrove counter parts, and you wondered to yourself if they still did. You got your answer almost immediately when you saw a flash of red hair hop out a window followed by two flashes of dark hair. You hadn’t noticed the bikes waiting for them below, but you recognized the faces when they appeared in the sunlight.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

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ashphoenix06 · 6 years ago

Text

Deleted Prompt (protection Marvin/Chase) (jse ego universe) part 2

They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Marvin was bouncing his leg, a nervous habit he had just started, while keeping his eye on Chase’s ex wife. He hadn’t held anything back when he told her the situation at hand. If she had wanted a softer version of things, she should of gone to someone else.

Stacey was just sitting there, looking at her hands. She had stayed in that position ever since Marvin told her about Chase. The only movement she displayed was breathing and blinking.

“...... You okay, Stac?”

Asking that question seemed to of shaken her out of her stupor. Her eyes shot up to the magician, red and wet from tears. Shit, Marvin cursed. She may be a bitch, but I didn’t mean to make her cry.

Before he couldn’t say anything, she pounced.

“What the fuck? Are you kidding me? This... this... ‘Anti’.... was behind what happened to Jack? And now he has Chase? Why didn’t anyone stop him? Why didn’t you?”

Any sympathy she might of gained with the magician melted away. Eye like daggers, he leaned back and made a gesture at himself.

“I was kinda... possessed... and near death when this happened! I barely even remember Chase making the deal... The others told me about it after...”

“Well, why didn’t any of them stop that asshole?”

“It’s not that simple, woman! I told you, Antisepticeye is a demonic glitch. He has insane abilities and heavily dark influences. He got to me through one small thought...”

“But... but if you look like this.... and I remember Schneep being in bad shape a while back... OH GOD! WHAT IS HE GOING TO DO TO CHASE?”

At this, Marvin found himself caught. What he was going to say wasn’t going to be easy for her to hear and he wondered how she was going to take it. But she had asked for the truth, so she was going to get it.

“I don’t know, Stacey.” He looks down at his hands. Not feeling his powers coursing through his fingers really hurt him. He never expected that it would feel this empty to not have them.

“Nothing good, though... I’m sorry.”

He heard her breath hitch as she took in what he had said. Some sympathy was starting to crawl back into Marvin’s chest. She really sounded concerned.

“I knew it... I knew that him being around you guys was a bad idea.”

And just as quick, that sympathy was gone.

“Excuse me,” he growled, tensing up.

Stacey looked at him challengingly.

“All of you... you bring nothing but bad luck and misfortune! I mean, look at what happened before when he...”

Marvin slammed his fists on the table, making Stacey jump. He looked up at her, hoping that she saw the daggers coming out of his eye.

“Last time I checked,” he hissed, trying his best to stay calm, “I believe that YOU were to blame for that little incident...”

“How fucking DARE YOU!”

Stacey was fuming. Marvin found himself proud of this, for some reason. She was too high on that damn horse of hers. The magician was more than willing to take her down a notch.

“You divorced him and took the kids away, Stacey...”

“People divorce all the time! Shit happens! Things can’t be controlled!”

“Oh, you mean like that fucker you let move in SIX months after?”

Stacey’s eyes widen with shock. Marvin felt a sense pride. She wasn’t expecting him to know this bit of information and it gave him the push he needed.

“What? You think we wouldn’t check his phone or messages after he shot himself? You were practically bragging about that asshole to him!”

Anger and tears swam in her eyes.

“Stop, Marv...”

“No! I never got to have my say in this and you’re gonna damn well listen...” he couldn’t stop himself. “YOU weren’t the one who witnessed the man cracking like an egg! YOU didn’t have to constantly check to make sure he didn’t drink himself to alcohol poisoning because of his depression! YOU KNEW that this was eating at him and then you had to flaunt in his face how you moved a complete STRANGER in with HIS KIDS!”

“Shut up!”

Marvin was on a roll. There was a reason he never talked to her about Chase’s attempt at suicide, and she’s going to sit there and listen. Maybe it was his anxiety mixed with his rage, but he didn’t care at this point.

“I was here when it happened! We were hanging out, he said he needed to talk to you about the kids coming over... next thing I knew, there was a fucking gun shot! Him lying there on the floor, hole in his head... I will NEVER be able to get that out of my mind! You drove my little brother to that point and I will NEVER forgive you for that!”

There was fight still in her eyes. She was trembling and crying, but her eyes spoke of murder.

“Fuck you! I didn’t push Chase to do anything! YOU guys failed to see the signs until it was too late! You think you’re so self righteous enough to judge me? Take a look at yourself, Marvin! I know about what happened to Jackie! Couldn’t even bother to reach out to him, could you? No, you just pushed him to the point where he literally tried to kill himself by purposefully picking a fight! Some big brother you turned out to be!”

Something broke. She... She was right...

He heard her gasp a little as he relented, slumping back into the couch. The magician felt defeated and it probably showed. She was actually right... he failed... he failed them all...

“Marv,” she whispered, regret dripping off of her words. He didn’t look at her, choosing to look at his hand. Still no magic and his string wounds still fresh even after over three months... god, he had never felt so helpless.

There was the sound of the couch creaking and then a familiar hand on his shoulder. Marvin didn’t have to look up to know that the youngest of the egos had finally come out of his room. Though JJ gave him a reassuring squeeze, the magician felt numb.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” he heard Stacey utter. “I... I didn’t mean... it’s just... I’m worried about...”

“You’re.... right, Stac,” he finally managed to whisper. His eye never left the bandages marking where his strings use to be. “You’re right.... I try... so hard to keep them all safe. But I can’t... I’m... I’m too weak...”

“Marvin, no...”

“I couldn’t stop Chase from killing himself or being taken. I pushed Jackie to the point that he tried to die! I let that damn glitch use me like a... like a...”

Marvin tremble as he tried to say the word ‘puppet,’ but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. JJ’s grip tightened but it did nothing to stop the break of his wall... all those feelings he tries so desperately to hide from everyone flowing out.

“I’m... I’m suppose to be protecting them... I may be second oldest, but that’s my job! I’m suppose to be the strong one... the one that never gives in... never breaks..”

JJ finally grab him and pulled the magician into a fierce hug. Normally, Marvin was the one to comfort the others in this fashion; even Schneep. But as his baby brother’s hold tightened on him, the magician felt his walls breaking. At this moment, it was nice to be the one comforted and not the other way around.

He could here Stacey shuffling uncomfortably at the scene. She, as well as the others, were more than likely not use to seeing him this vulnerable. He leaned onto JJ’s shoulder, holding back the tears. God, he was so fucked up after what Anti did to him. His physical wounds may be healing at a steady pace, but his mental wounds.... that was going to be a long road to recovery.

His shoulders shook as he fought back the tears. He couldn’t cry... not with JJ and Stacey in the room...

“Shit, Marvin,” Stacey said right next to him. This startled him. When did she get so close?

But all thoughts of distaste washed away as she did something he never expected in a million years... She hug him! Side of her face pressing into his back, her arms barely made it around his chest but the hug was firerce.

“What... what did that bastard you to you guys? What is he going to do to Chase?.... What the fuck did he DO to YOU?”

Those words and the two supportive hugs broke the remaining walls as Marvin, for the very first time in his life, let others help him. They kept hugging him even after all his tears were spent.

*****************

Tags:

@glitchbicth @honestlyitsjustkenna @nekob00 @the-rampaige @septicuniverse @aquaticember06 @greenglitchbitch @goldenoceanaart @idk-and-wtf @silver-freddy @nixon-by-night @mysepticheartfan1 @just-your-average-glitch @lyra-mithril-aryl--op20 @jackandmarksavedme88 @thelunarmasquerade

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye community #jacksepticeye fandom #jse community #jse fandom #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye fanfiction #fanfic #jse egos #jse fanfiction #fanfiction #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #stacy brody #writersofjack

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comawrites-gone · 6 years ago

Text

With No Resistance: I Just Want to Talk

*writes to cope with this scorching community fire*

previous next

Summary: Marvin finds a visitor in his dreamscape who says he just wants to talk.

Warnings: Blood mention.

Marvin opened the door and looked around. Everything looked foggy and misshapen like a dream, but he could pull out a wooden desk, a coffee table, and a couple of sofas from his surroundings. It took a few minutes for it to click in his head. Everything looked weird because he was in a dreamscape. His dreamscape.

Lucid dreaming was a little harder for him as far as magic goes. There are so many things you have to focus on. One wrong move and he would wake up.

He took a deep breath. He might as well enjoy it for however long this lasts. He tried to take in more of his surroundings when his clothes caught his eye. He was wearing a grey hoodie and black sweatpants. Marvin shook his head. A change of wardrobe, he thought.

His brothers had always told him that he was extra in everything that he did, and Marvin laughed. Maybe he was. The magician snapped his fingers, watching as his sweatpants turned into slacks and his hoodie, a white button-up shirt with a navy blue vest. He almost took a step when he noticed the sleeve of his shirt felt wet. He glanced over with a cocked eyebrow.

Marvin’s heart almost stopped when he finally realized what was wrong.

A large portion of his white sleeve was soppy with dark crimson blood and the fabric had a small rip like it had been cut.

Small, quiet giggles rang out against the walls. Marvin waved his hands and readied an offensive fire spell as he tried to hide his shaking. His surroundings began to warp and Marvin had to force the dreamscape open.

“Hey, hey, relax.” a familiar voice murmured. Marvin spun around toward the coffee table and was met with a foggy figure of Chase. The light seemed to bounce off of him in strange ways, but Marvin could tell he was putting his heads up, trying to calm him down.

“Wh… Chase?” Marvin put his hands down, his spell faltering. “You scared the shit out of me. You could have been toast, literally.”

Chase giggled nervously, which for some reason, sent chills down Marvin’s spine. “Sorry about that. I just wanted to talk,” he replied, looking away. “Just a second, though.”

Chase looked around, waving his hand slowly. The room became crystal clear as if he was mounting the room down. Every little detail popped out like it was real.

Marvin took his surroundings in, slackjawed. “How did you do that? This isn’t your realm.”

“You’re not the only one with tricks up his sleeve.” Chase looked incredibly smug.

Chase leaned over, looking at Marvin’s bloody sleeve. “Shit, dude. That knife really did a number on you, didn’t it?” he asked sympathetically. He grabbed Marvin’s arm gently, getting a better look at the wound.

Marvin shrugged, despite the growing pain in his bicep. “Yeah… Wait, how did you know I got attacked by a knife?” Marvin looked at Chase one more, finally noticing his eyes, one green, one blue. His heart lurched. This wasn’t Chase, it was Anti.

The second Marvin tried to pull his arm back, Anti tightened his grip. “Calm down, I just want to talk.” His voice sounded even, almost pleading. There was no occasional static in his voice; he sounded just like Marvin’s brother. “Please.”

Marvin was taken aback by just how serious the demon sounded, causing him to relax. Anti put his hand just above the cut on Marvin’s arm, and in just a few seconds, the cut and blood were gone.

“What do you want?”

Anti looked him square in the eyes and Marvin thought he could see guilt in the demon’s eyes. “I just want to talk. I feel bad about attacking you, but you left me no choice.”

“I left you no choice-?!” Marvin started but paused when he no longer saw Anti in front of him. Instead, the man was sitting down at one of the couches, motioning to Marvin to sit.

Marvin was surprised when he took the demon’s invitation. There was absolutely no reason for him not to attack right now, but something inside him wanted to hear him out. Anti clicked his tongue, summoning a hot kettle and two teacups.

“Black?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Marvin put his hand up just slightly. “Vanilla chai.” As soon as he said that, a circular tea bag materialized just above the teacup and plopped down.

“You said you wanted to talk.”

Anti waiting for his water to be poured and placed the cup on the coffee table, pushing aside a few small books. “I had a plan. Take Seán peacefully, quietly, without all this happening. As you can see, that didn’t work out very well. And as much as I hate to admit it, my power is waning. But you, you have infinite potential; you are much stronger than I am right now. I need your help.”

Marvin almost choked on his tea. “You want my help with killing my best friend? Are you insane?” he retorted.

Anti laughed. “Maybe a little. But look, all empires must fall. Unfortunately, Seán’s time has come. Help me before any more damage comes to him.”

Marvin looked down, conflicted. Something inside of him agreed with this demon. It felt tight and sour, like sucking on a penny. It scared him how much he felt this way, but at the same time, he was completely calm. Help him. Help him. Help him. Help me. His brain repeated those words like a broken record.

“I know this is a tough thing to ask of you. But if you help me, I can help you. I can let you see your true potential,” Anti offered, leaning forward on his knees. “Would you like a peek?”

Marvin cocked an eyebrow, placing his teacup on the table. “A peek of wh-” He was immediately cut off as a tight zap circulated through his body. He felt like he was on fire, but he felt no pain. His vision started to blur and falter as magic cracked all around him. Marvin tried to gather composure, finally giving in to the warmth. This felt good. This felt right. The magician smiled; this was his power.

After a few seconds, the sensation faded and Marvin’s heart sped up, trying to grasp whatever he could. “H-hold on, wait,” he pleaded, the words falling out of his mouth. He looked up at the demon, who was giving him a warm smile.

“You can feel that constantly, but you need to help me,” Anti repeated. He picked up his teacup and leaned back against the cushions. “I will let you mull it over. In the meantime, you should wake up, your soup is getting cold.”

Marvin felt his study melt away as he regained consciousness. The feeling of his weighted blanket pushed down on him just slightly and he opened his eyes. The clock sitting on his nightstand blinked 7:12pm. He sat up and stretched.

A large bowl of chicken soup sat on Marvin’s desk and he pushed aside the blankets and walked over. A note was positioned against the bowl and it was obvious by the chicken scratch that this was Henrik’s writing. He picked the note up and read.

“I checked your temperature when I dropped off your soup. If it wasn’t for you not being completely human, I would have brought you the hospital. You were running a fever of 41C.”

Marvin recoiled at the number, but he felt like he couldn’t explain the reason for such a high fever was due to talking to a sociopathic demon. He placed the note back on the desk and picked up the bowl of soup, taking it to his bed. Without looking behind, he whispered a basic spell and his PlayStation came to life. He sat down and pulled the TV remote out of his nightstand drawer and pressed the power button.

#jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #he's mentioned so might as well tag him #blood tw #with no resistance

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words-with-wren · 7 years ago

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Capture - JSE Fanfic

Summary: JJ is missing and Jackieboy Man is determined to find him, no matter the cost. Prompt: @miloe send me a prompt “Charrie A has been kidnapped. Other charries must find them before time runs out for everyone” Words: 1,932

Warnings: Some blood

A/N: HI I’M ALIVE WOW CRAZY RIGHT! Also this isn’t DBH related. Also crazy. Anyway, have some Jakieboy Man angst.

| A03 |

It had been a hard year for Jackieboy Man. He had been overworked defeating a rather significant threat and had been looking forward to coming home and relaxing – or at least having a little less to deal with.

He hadn’t expected to come home to find his small family cracking at the seams and a hidden monster of some kind picking them off one by one. If he had known what was happening he would have come home sooner – he would have protected his friends.

But because he hadn’t been around, Jack was in a coma, Schneep had escaped a near-death experience which had changed him, and Chase had isolated himself and was obviously struggling.

And now JJ had gone missing.

He was sitting on his bed in a t-shirt and boxers, computer on his lap and papers spread about. Sam was sleeping at the end of the bed, but Jackie ignored the pull of slumber. He had to find JJ before it was too late – before the monster did anything to him. He had lost track of time, so focused on the job at hand. He had to do something.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his clue hunting and he grunted an acknowledgement. The door was pushed open and he glanced up to see Marvin enter.

The magician rubbed his eyes – he seemed to have just woken up. Jackie wondered ideally what time it was. It didn’t matter – he could sleep after JJ was safe.

“Have you slept at all?” Marvin asked, stepping into the room. Jackie shrugged, turning back to his computer.

“I need to find Jamie before something happens to him,” he said shortly.

“Jackie, it’s 5 am. Have you slept since he went missing?”

“I don’t need sleep, I need to find him!” Jackie snapped. He sighed closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. He was tired, Marvin’s concerns were well-founded. He hadn’t slept much since Jamie had gone missing – barely 3 hours over as many days. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m worried for him.”

“I am too. But running yourself to exhaustion isn’t going to help him.” Marvin sighed. “Look, get some sleep and try again tomorrow – you might do better then.”

Jackie sighed as well, considering. The bed he was sitting on was very comfortable, and he was tired. Besides, he had set up his computer to alert him if there were any clues and a lot of what he was doing was refreshing pages in the hopes of finding another trail he could go down, another webpage he could explore. And nothing had come up recently.

So he nodded slowly, trying to ignore the guilt that was steadily growing larger. Marvin was right – he needed rest, at least a little. But as he began to stand, lifting his laptop and stretching his legs, the machine pinged slightly.

Heart pounding and trying not to get his hopes up too much, he dropped back down and checked the notification. An email – an email with no title or sender.

“What is it?” Marvin asked, suddenly by his side. “Is opening that a good idea?”

“There’s no better ones,” Jackie said, clicking it.

He tensed, not quite sure what to expect. A message appeared, above a slowly loading image. Jackie quickly read the message, deciphered the letters between the scattered font.

F͔ͯͪͭ̆̆i͓n̜͍͚̓ͦͪ̍d͚͛̿̈ ͙h̺͖͚̞͆͋̏ͫ̋̉i̲̭̝̺ͬ̓̓ͤ͌͗ͥ̀m̵̜͓͔̗̯͈̊̒̿͆̃ ̺̟̺̯̠̺̒͟ĩ̜̣̖̦͂ͨ̅͂̎͡f̡͎̝ͪ̃́ͩ ̡̙̭̦ͨ̉̃ͭ̾y̗̖̠͈̖͌ͧ̂ͮͥ̃o̦̣̺̹͙͓ͭu͉͖̦̓͐̌ ̀̄ͪ��̬̳͞ď̠̮̝ͤ̋͗ͯ͆͞ͅa̴̒̌͑͂r͍̱̞̉̄̃́̋͛̂͟e̛̻̳͎͑̎ͧ̑̎

The image finally loaded – an image of Jamie, bound to a chair, his eyes wide and full of fear. Jackie sat back, running his hands through his hair and cursing under his breath. Then hurriedly stood and rushed towards his desk, almost tripping over cords and waking Sam in his haste.

His fingers flew over the keys, focused as he was on tracking the email. He waved Marvin’s questions away as he searched using the skills he had learned to pinpoint the location of the sender. His eyes darted across the screen as he followed trails, desperately trying to find the source of the message before it was too late.

Finally, he stopped, staring at the screen, hardly daring to believe he had been able to do it. The source of the email came from a section of old factories across town. Jackie jabbed a finger on the screen, satisfaction filling him.

“Found him,” he said. Then he stood, pushing Marvin aside in his rush to grab his suit.

“Woah, hold up – you know this is a trap, right?” the magician asked. Jackie shrugged, snatching his suit from where he had hung it on the door of his wardrobe.

“Trap or not, it’s the only lead I have.”

“Well then… I’ll go get ready.” Marvin turned to leave, but Jackie called him back.

“No, I’m going alone,” he said. Marvin shook his head.

“No way – that’s what he – it – whatever – wants. I – it’s picking us off one by one, isolating us. If you go alone you’ll be next.”

Jackie frowned, gripping his suit tightly. He opened his mouth to say what he was thinking, then paused. Finally, he spoke.

“It’s better than you being next,” he said quietly. He couldn’t cope with losing another friend – with someone else he loved getting hurt. He couldn’t cope with being the reason someone else close to him was damaged.

“I’m not letting you go alone, Jackie,” Marvin said. When the superhero looked up at his friend, Marvin had a strange look about him. He was dark, his eyes hard, a flicker of flames dancing over his fingertips.

Marvin could look after himself. Besides – the backup might be useful.

So Jackie nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “Suit up.”

*~*

It was dark inside the factory. Jackie didn’t fear the dark – in fact, he usually enjoyed the silence it brought. But this… this dark was foreboding, evil even.

And even the bravest of heroes was afraid of what was in the dark.

He stepped forward slowly, hoping Marvin got the power on soon, wary, nervous. He slowly pushed open a door and found himself in the large, dark, factory floor. A glow of light shone from across the room.

Ready for anything, he stepped forward slowly, eyes and ears alert for anything. He stepped softly, his shoes making no sound on the floor as he made his way towards what he was beginning to make out as a number of computer monitors.

A glance at his watch told him that Sam would soon have the power on and Marvin was nearly finished his part of the plan. He stepped forward again, making out the shape of a figure sitting in front of the screens – screens that were showing nothing but static.

He stepped forward and the screen suddenly dimmed. Automatically, he dropped into a fighting stance as the figure slowly began to stand. Then it turned and Jackie let out an involuntary gasp.

It was JJ. His hat was missing, his suit tattered, his hair a ragged mess. But what was most off-putting was his eyes. They were dark, cold, emotionless.

He stepped forward, his movements jerky and strange – almost like someone else was controlling him. The screens behind him began flickering and fear began to grow in Jackie.

“Jamie?” he asked, but his friend gave no sign that he had heard. “C’mon man, it’s me. We gotta get you home.”

JJ kept moving, and Jackie suddenly realised he was holding a knife. The fear grew and he stepped back. He didn’t want to have to fight his friend, but the way things were headed it looked like he might have to.

The screen suddenly stopped flickering and turned off, plunging the room into darkness. Jackie’s heart was beating quickly and he tried to calm himself but couldn’t. He could hear Jamie moving around him but didn’t know what to do.

Pain suddenly burst from his arm and he let out a cry, clasping his hand to the now wet wound. Jamie was attacking him. He spun, holding off from landing a punch in an effort to not hurt his friend. But as he did, something collided with his face – a fist – and he stumbled back, dazed.

He couldn’t see his attacker, and even if he could he didn’t want to fight back. He was going to fail again. He was going to let his friends down again. He couldn’t do anything.

Laughter suddenly echoed through the room, causing Jackie to jump. The laughter was creepy, insane, wrong.

“Y͎̅͊̃̎̂̕ͅͅö̜̳̿̽ͤ̒u̜͍͢ ͓̳̐t̩̺͕̞̃̕h͓̝̑ͫ̽̎͐͢o̘̲̤͕ͯ͒͠ú̹̈́ͪ͠ͅg͑̏ͨ̒͐̈́h̦͈́̐ͦ͋ṭ͔̹̦̿ͦͤ̊̑ͭ̓ ̷̉͌͆ͦy͉̗̯o̰͇͓̲̰̲͐̔ͦͫͥͅų̜̙̮̄ͨͦ̿͌ͨ͊ ͈̰̭̫̺ͧͨ̆̓̃cͤ͆o͕̱̫̮ͩ̓͐͗͌ú̴̬ͮ͒ͭ̏l̈́̂͏̯d͇͋̇ ̥̳̩̻̟͎̜̔͛̄̉s͎͖ͬ̒ͨ̔ͪ͢a̡͉͙̝v̠̫͈͚͍͆̽̾͒̌̆e̮̬̞̟̙̥ͭ̽͡ ̞̹̪̻ͮͬ͟h̟̝͚̺͎͋͒̇̉i͐҉̫̝͇͈͎̯m̳͖͖̘̤̠͈͗̈́͠,” a voice whispered. Another punch to his stomach knocked Jackie to the ground. He gasped for breath, fighting back the tears in his eyes and bracing himself against the floor.

“Į͙ͪͣͫ̔t’̤͍͉̳̱̝͍̎͋͛ͮ́̋š͋̾͑̅̋̆ a̢͎̺͔͓̝ͥͬ̊͛͛͐̿l̷ͥl͉̟̯̖̞͎͕͗̋͆ͯ͊ͣ͆̀ ̘̠̮̎ͧ͞y̌o̲̙̤͌̌ͫ͋͗̋͛ụ̮̰͒̿r̝͎̰͐̒̓ͯ́ ͓̮̦͔̟̈́ͪ̑͞ͅf̉ͮa̪̟͍̺̜̥͘u͙̯̥̟̣̮ḻ̯̤̼̳͍͂̅ͫ̃̓̂́ţ̱̺̼.” The voice echoed through the room, distorted and crazy. All your fault. It was his fault. It was his fault he hadn’t been able to protect his friends. He should have been there for him. He should have done something. But now he was going to die by the hands of a friend, now he was going to abandon them again.

Something grabbed his hair and dragged his head back, causing him to gasp in pain. He struggled, not wanting to die quite yet. But a blow from the butt of the knife to the back of his head dazed him. Cold metal touched his neck, and he fought back a shudder. He was going to die.

But as he resigned himself to that fate, the lights suddenly flickered on, flooding the room with light. He blinked, his eyes adjusting and pain throbbing through his head. But the knife didn’t hesitate, and a sharp pain burst through his neck.

“Stop!”

To his surprise, JJ listened to the loud voice that burst through the room. Jackie looked up to see Marvin standing on a balcony above the floor, Sam floating above him. His cape was flowing behind him and his eyes glowing under his mask, a green flame burning above his hand.

“Jameson, let him go.” Marvin’s words were cold, dark, and Jackie felt JJ hesitate. Taking the chance, he kicked out behind him, knocking JJ’s legs from under him. That gave him a chance to break free, collapsing not far away, one hand cupping his bleeding neck.

He allowed himself only a moment to recover before pulling himself to his feet, using the computers behind him to steady himself. Marvin leapt down from the balcony, his cape flaring out behind him as he fell, landing in a way Jackie had to reluctantly admit was better than anything he had ever done.

Jamie turned to face the magician, his face still expressionless, his movements still jerky. Marvin didn’t hesitate, striding towards him. Then, just out of range of the knife still clasped in his friend’s hand, he held out his own.

“Sleep,” Marvin said, and Jamie collapsed, the knife clattering to the ground. Jackie felt himself collapse as well, now the danger was gone. He slid down the machine behind him, hurting. But JJ was safe.

“You alright?” The superhero opened his eyes to see Marvin crouching in front of him, his mask pushed on top of his head. Jackie nodded, accepting the hand offered to him and allowed Marvin to help him up.

“Thanks,” he said slowly. “I – I would have been dead…” he trailed off.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Jackie,” Marvin said. “Let’s get him home.” He said, nodding in the direction of the motionless Jamie. Jackie nodded, leaning on his friend for a long moment.

The monster was picking them off one by one. But if they stuck together maybe they could stop it.

#jacksepticeye #jse fanfic #jacksepticeye fanfic #jackieboy man #jameson jackson #marvin the magician #my fanfics

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rockets-sillyobsession · 7 years ago

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Fight of the Falsettos

Hello everyone! Here’s another Falsettos fic for you featuring MORE AMAZING COVER ART BY MY GF @cloudys-serendipity GOOD GOD LOOK AT IT IT’S SO GOOD OMFG!!!!!! UGH I’M DYING IT’S SO GOOD-

Anyways, here’s the fic! Enjoy!

Trina couldn’t see any of them. She was in the next room over, so she could only assume what the scene looked like through their voices. They’d been just making casual talk, leaving her out as per usual. Jason hadn’t said a word until moments ago.

“Dad?” He asked, somewhere close to the wall.

“Yes?” Marvin answered first. Of course he did, he always thought he was entitled to everything first. Or, maybe it was just because he was Jason’s biological father. That made more sense.

“Nono, other dad!” Jason had moved somewhere in the room, away from the wall. Mendel was the next to answer.

“Yes, son?” She could almost see him batting his eyelashes, like a cartoon character trying to charm somebody. She imagined him in a cartoony style, slightly smiling at the image. She pictured Jason with a confused and disgusted look, Marvin looking equally grossed out, and maybe Whizzer in the back, laughing. No, he didn’t deserve to be happy. Did he? No, he turned Marvin against her, pretty much ruined everything. Nono, he didn’t deserve to laugh. But he would anyways, wouldn’t he? He was so fucking immature...they all were. All of them. Trina gripped her hair, tugging it slightly. It felt like she was going insane....

March, March, March of the Falsettos~

Who is man enough to March to March of the Falsettos~

She did her best to make them look as silly as possible. Propeller hats, shorts, funny masks, all in a dark room. And they were singing, for no particular reason. Maybe that made it more humiliating in her head. They walked around in a weird fashion, singing in overly high voices.

“C’mere!” Whizzer motioned for the rest to follow him. She could see them dancing around in their outfits, the thought making her mouth hint at a smile.

“One foot following the other, teach it to your brother, make him march, march, march of the falsettos, march of the falsettos…” All four blew raspberries with their tongues. A loud noise came from the room over, which distracted her slightly, but she didn’t pay it too much mind and got right back to her fantasy.

“March a little bit, march a little bit, march a little bit on!” They walked around with their hands behind their backs, almost looking as if they were prancing.

“Four men swaying in phosphorescence, keep replaying their adolescence!” They walked together sideways as a group, messing with one another as they went, pushing and shoving.

“Four men marching but never mincing! Four men marching is so convincing!”

“It’s a goddamn surety, we’re lacking in maturity!”

Marvin grabbed Mendel by his sides, causing him to flinch.

“Stop it, stop it!” Mendel whined, giggling all the while. Whizzer smirked, scooping Jason up in his arms. He took a deep breath and blew quick, rapid fire raspberries on Jason’s torso. The boy shrieked loudly, giggling loudly and in a lot higher pitch. Marvin, meanwhile, had yet to let go of Mendel’s sides, both giggling in dorky voices.

“Help! HEHEHEHehehelp!” Jason cried, grabbing at Marvin’s head. He only ended up grabbing his propeller hat off his head. Marvin went by squeezing mendel’s sides for a few moments before he noticed it was gone. He felt of his head and his expression turned sour.

“Who has my hat?!” He demanded, which was hilarious sounding in his high voice. Jason hopped down from Whizzer’s arms and put the hat in his hands. Marvin turned around, cracking his knuckles.

“Why you little!” Marvin ran and grabbed at Whizzer’s wrists, but missed after Mendel snatched the hat in his own hands. Mendel threw the hat to Jason as he ran by, chuckling deviously. Jason stared down at the hat in his hand and hid it behind his back as his father approached.

“Did you steal my hat?” He asked. Jason shook his head, smiling nervously. Marvin raised an eyebrow, tilting his body to try and see behind Jason, but the boy only mimicked him to shield what was behind him. Marvin tried the other side but the same thing happened. Whizzer snuck up behind him, tiptoeing slowly. He yanked the hat out of his hands and into the open where Marvin could see.

“Ah ha! So you stole my hat!” Jason covered his eyes, shaking. But soon he heard Whizzer’s laugh from behind him. He uncovered his face to see Marvin scratching at Whizzer’s torso. Whizzer put his hand on his chest in shock and offense at such a notion, but it didn’t last long, since instinct took over and his arms went down.

“Coochi coo! Gimme my hat!” He mixed soft, playful cooing with yelling demands, making for confusing, but hilarious sentences. Jason backed away from the scene, thinking he’d gotten away from it all. Until he backed into Mendel. He picked Jason up and flipped him upside down, holding him by his ankles. Jason tugged at his feet, silently begging for mercy by holding his hands, pulling his best puppy eyes. Mendel shook his head, tossing Jason’s shoe and sock away. He seemingly spawned a feather out of nowhere, slowly dragging it down his sole. Jason yelled loudly, laughing quite loudly for a child.

Marvin, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out where his hat had gone. It was just behind him, but he believed that Whizzer had it still.

“Give me my hat!” He demanded, scribbling quickly across Whizzer’s upper back. Whizzer desperately pointed at his hat on the ground, but Marvin refused to believe it.

“Nope! Not there! Give it to me! C’mon, cutie, coochi coo! Tickle tickle tickle!” He cooed, hugging up against his back to play around with his ears. Whizzer was lost in his laughter, too much to be able to respond.

Mendel eventually decided to let Jason go, but under one condition. He was to only target Marvin from now on, and if he disobeyed, the tickles would be much, much worse. Jason dragged his feet and Mendel tugged him towards Marvin and Whizzer. Mendel paused as he saw how hesitant Jason was. He tapped his chin, thinking, then suddenly snapped his fingers. He leaned down and whispered his plan, Jason nodding in agreement. They kneeled on either side of Marvin and leaned into him.

“Awww, what a tickawish wittle boy!” Mendel cooed. Marvin winced, his face flushing.

“So tickawish and small, so helpless!” Jason chimed in. Marvin let go of Whizzer and covered his ears.

“No! No, no, no!” He whined, stomping the ground. Mendel covered his mouth as he giggled at Marvin’s fit. Whizzer sat up, stars swirling around his head like he’d fallen down. Marvin off and jumped onto a block, as if trying to hide up it. Whizzer crawled after him, Mendel and Jason simply walking. Jason and Mendel sat on either side while Whizzer sat in front of the block. Trina suddenly pictured herself walking in this dirranged landscape.

“Uh oh!”

Trina’s eyes fluttered open. Was that a dream? Did she even fall asleep? She rubbed her head and stood up, peeking into the next room. Marvin, Jason, Mendel and Whizzer were all in a tangled pile on the floor, messy hair and shirts wrinkled. They all faced the doorway, faces either paling or blushing as they saw her.

“Uh oh.”

#Falsettos #Falsettos Fanfic #Falsettos Fanfiction #Tickle Fic #Tickling

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ventingblacklist · 8 years ago

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4x18 live notes

“That depends. Define forever.”

I don’t know, Liz. Samar’s at least talking to you again. I don’t like Gale at first. But he grows on me. And his call with Ressler cracks me up.

Gale: Does it involve bringing down Reddington? Ressler: Not exactly.

Oh my word. We got actual dialogue from Liz on the Kaplan thing. I am pleased with this. I am actually pleased with Liz’s performance this ep. This is amazing.

I like that Liz offers to protect Kate. Repaying the favor, walking that line, but still wary.

So. Is Kaplan’s memory really sucky? Cuz she definitely laid eyes on Agnes in Cuba. She held her even.

That anyone could have gotten in and at Agnes is way more Liz’s fault than anyone’s. Hers and Toms. For refusing to even consider that they might need protection. From 3x11 until now Red continues to warn them that Liz herself is reason enough for people to come after her, and still. Can’t wait to get out of that safehouse. How many times does Agnes have to be kidnapped?

The scene with Red and Dembe was... perfection. What can I say? Just perfection.

Why would the task force end up in jail for Diane?

Red: Don’t let anyone into your apartment. Marvin: Too late.

lol

“What’s the point? I’m lookin’ at a dead woman.”

Marvin. Marvin, c’mere. C’mere, I wanna kiss you.

Aram. Just leave her alone. If you’re not man enough to ask her out and dump spy girl, then just leave Samar the eff alone.

Guys, guys. Ressler is in this episode. I know! What on earth? Is this The Blacklist again?

So who did the print? Could be any one of Red’s minions. He had a random dude in the post office who helped Liz escape. Could be Laurel Hitchin.

I kind of like Kaplan’s tactics here. Not completely insane ‘kill everybody.’

#philomena #spoilers

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forbidden-creepypasta · 8 years ago

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Verdict

Ruth usually didn't have too much trouble keeping up on a normal day. At nine in the morning, as the judge entered the court room and people rose to their feet (not out of respect, but because the bailiff demanded it), she prepared herself for the trial of the year. Something felt amiss. People often scoffed or stared her down with a certain amount of concern when she told them what she did for a living. The court reporter is always there, behind the deliberations and motions to dismiss and attempts by sleazy defense lawyers for mistrials on some legal technicality. She was always recording, typing and writing furiously at a pace that most would consider dizzying and overwhelming. Their faces contorted even more when she reminded them of her arthritis. A mixture of carpal tunnel and severe arthritic pain in her wrists often led to physical anguish by the end of the day, and yet, this was one of the few things that she could do better than anyone else. She was fast, accurate, and attentive. She was also four months from retirement. The way she figured, with her state stipend, pension fund, and 401(k), there was no point in trying to find another job when she could swallow pain pills by the handful and truck it out for another few months. There was no harm in hard work. It wasn't the searing, hot throb coursing through the veins on the tops of her hands, or the nervous chatter of onlookers, or even the pounding, sharp strike of the judge's gavel that set her on edge. Something felt WRONG, out of place. She'd been reporting for close to thirty years, and she'd never felt the sinking feeling in her gut that suggested that she should have called in to work today. They were well on their way to phasing out the human aspect of court reporting, anyway. Voice recognition software was almost to the point that a computer could sit in the corner of the halls of justice and transpose the court deliberations, free of any human contact whatsoever. The uniformed officer who brought him in stopped at the massive wooden oak doors of the aisle-way, and he refused to take a step further. She'd never seen that before. The bailiff, hesitant and begrudged to escort the defendant to his seat at the table, seemed almost as reluctant, and yet the icy stare of Judge Malone compelled him to get the day started. Even for New York City, the case of William Valencia was certainly an odd one. He'd been accused of the rape and murder of a young NYU college student, Claire Sellers, in a sealed off, run-down corner of central park where authorities usually only found strung-out crack addicts and homeless alcoholics. They suspected that he'd brought her there, to establish a setting and throw off the preliminary investigatons, and, in truth, he'd done just that. They never would have found him if he hadn't confessed to the psychiatrist. The district attorney wanted to charge him with the murder of the doctor's family, but those charges were unfounded and completely ludicrous, considering that Valencia had been incarcerated in a padded room at the time of death. The psychiatrist's fingerprints had been found on the letter opener used to slice open his wife and daughter's bodies like effigy marionettes, but the design and intricate slash marks were performed in the exact same direction, velocity, and methodology that Valencia had used himself on Claire Sellers. Later, when authorities began interdepartmental communications between other police precincts in Buffalo, Augusta, Trenton, New Haven, and Boston, police began to make connections to over two dozen murders in the northeast area, dating back to around eight months before Valencia was locked up in the crazy-bin. The distance between the murders, although great, was still feasible. One person could have committed them, and yet, to do so, they would have had to been driven by the force of homicide, and nothing else. The DA had a strong case until Dr. Malcolm Creed hung himself. They'd never been able to question him, or to pinpoint the finer details of the morbid fiasco that occurred at his home on July 30th of the previous year. He'd been found strangled to death by his own neck tie in the apartment of a local bartender, Julianne Rosello, about forty minutes before she was scheduled to return home from her closing shift. In his left hand, he clutched a razor blade, embedded in the flesh of his palm. Below his right was a note, scrawled in rampant handwriting. It simply read: I planned to dice her up, but I stopped it. It left me. Valencia appeared as though he held not a care or a worry in the world, considering that he was facing four charges of first degree murder. He should have been facing twenty. There wasn't enough evidence, or, the witnesses who had the testimony to seal him away for those counts were six feet under. Somehow, those who came in contact with Valencia had taken up the craft, as if they'd become apprentices of the art of slaying in cold blood. Staring at him from the corner of the judge's bench, it chilled Ruth to the core of her very being to look at him. She hadn't realized it, but her hand had been idly doodling on the stationery as he'd walked in. Usually, she took footnotes or wrote abbreviated versions of what had been said, followed by a timestamp, to ensure that she didn't miss anything while she was typing. A miniature outline of the proceedings, really. What she'd written was completely different as she stared down at the red ink on the paper. The Bic pen felt as if it had moved of its own accord, because her hand wasn't throbbing. She stared at the paper as the judge announced the hearing of the Commonwealth of New York vs. William Valencia. Get out now. She wadded up the piece of paper as quietly as possible, tossing it in to the wastebasket under her desk. It would only serve to distract her from her job, and yet, something lingered there, as if she should take note of it. Had her hand been possessed? Valencia's lawyer looked as if he were about to come apart at the seams. He was a member of the New York chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union, and he was the same guy who'd defended the member of Al-Qaeda that was accused of setting up a bomb underneath the metro-subway system. He was a ruthless litigator, and against this particular DA, he'd gotten plenty of cold-hearted killers off the hot seat in the past. This trial, despite a complete lack of evidence in most of the killings, was completely different for him. He didn't have the confident air about his thousand dollar suit. Ruth didn't suspect that it was the job of defending the man that rattled him, but, rather, the fact that they sat side by side, less than two feet from each other. William was reclining in his bench chair, his handcuffs forming a bridge between his wrists as he folded his fingers together and cradled the back of his head against the chain. He didn't look like he was about to be tried for the death penalty, but, rather, as if he were watching Monday Night Football at the local Hooters. She swallowed, and began typing as the district attorney made his opening statement. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for being here today to serve your purpose, and to protect the public from the man who now sits across the room from you --- " ACLU black-suit rose to his feet almost instantaneously. "Objection, your honor. Foundation." The defense attorney, Marvin Limon, despite looking shaky, could still leap on any mistake that the prosecution made in the blink of an eye. He was a hawk, poised to swoop down and derail the strategy of the state of New York, and normally, he'd be doing a good job of it. He'd graduated from Princeton, whereas Ruth was almost positive that the DA had come from some non-accredited law school in Queens. A sustained objection during an opening statement was a big blow; it discredited the DA in the eyes of the jury, but it wouldn't be enough to stem the momentum that had been built against the defense's client. "Sustained. Mr. Miller, please limit your rhetoric and jargon during these proceedings. Even THIS man deserves a fair trial under New York state law." Judge Malone seemed to be the only person unphased by Valencia's presence in the court room. He'd probably seen worse. Maybe. "Sorry, your Honor. As I was saying...." Right around the time she finished writing "Objection by defense, sustained, 9:21AM," she fully realized that she'd been writing with the Bic pen again.... this time, there was no paper, but rather, deep, ingrained marks in the wood of her desk, as she'd tossed the only acceptable writing surface that was there before. The light-colored mahogany had been scratched by deep rivets, with red ink seeping from the outer edges where she'd depressed the tip in to it. She tried not to stare at the ingrained text in the wood, but it was impossible.... she'd drowned out the prosecutor completely. Hello, Ruth. You should have left. It falls on you now. She stared at the writing, dumbfounded, until her attention snapped back to the task at hand. Limon was up, now, carefully constructing his usual facade of smoke, mirrors, and accusations of "circumstantial evidence" and the establishment of "reasonable doubt as afforded by the founders of our great nation." She'd seen it done a thousand times, and yet, she was still obligated to record those overused phrases in to the computer. She wasn't typing. William Valencia wasn't leaning back in his chair anymore. His black-eyed gaze was burning across the courtroom like a thin, incendiary bullet, straight to her desk. He was staring her down something fierce, and yet, to most of the court, it would appear that he were fixated on a random spot on the wall behind her. It was easy to forget about the reporter. After a certain period of time, she became almost invisible to onlookers. There were more interesting things to survey than a drone at a keyboard for most people in a court room. Apparently, insane serial killers didn't qualify as "most people." Ruth was a religious woman, and yet, she'd never been superstitious. She'd never witnessed anything out of the ordinary, and yet, sitting there in her leather-bound chair, having just etched deep gashes in to the wood of her desktop amidst the turmoil of one of the most sensational court proceedings of the last six months, she knew for certain that something was out of place. Why didn't her hand ache with the scourge of her arthritis after such a feat? The pull, deep down, persisted still, more potent and relentless than before. That's when he took the stand. There were no witnesses, other than the autopsy report and the detective in charge of the investigation of Claire's murder. His arrival at the scene was a cold, brisk account of her cadaver's discovery. The district attorney was banking on a conviction, but to get the death penalty, he had to pass off the defendant as a ruthless murderer. He didn't stride about with the swagger from before. Indeed, he seemed intimidated, standing in front of the once-wealthy stockbroker who had everything in the world. "Mr. Valencia, how are you doing today?" A smile. He did a quick once-over of his fingernails, stretched his hand out, and then laid his palms nonchalantly on the surface of the banister. "I'm good. I'm thinking about how nice it would feel to shred your face to --- " "OBJECTION your Honor. The prosecution's opening statement is irrelevant to his case, and therefore, my client's response should be stricken from the record." More technical evasion. All the work-arounds in the world wouldn't save the man from his condemned fate, or at least Ruth thought so. "Sustained. The jury will disregard the defendant's response." The judge knew as well as the rest of them that by merely opening his mouth, Valencia had alienated the jury from any last remnants of sympathy for his plight. The next question was a fast ball, straight down the middle, and he rammed it home with his response faster than Alex Rodriguez. "Did you rape and murder Claire Sellers?" The amount of indifference in the prosecutor's voice was deliberate. He didn't even flinch. The corners of his mouth stretched ever wider. "I murdered her. But, truthfully, is it really rape if she was dead before I got antsy? Will you fry me any less for necrophilia?" He turned on the bench to stare at Ruth, and she resisted the urge to sink in to her chair and hide under her desk. As she finished entering his reponse, she returned his emboldened, furious gaze. He was the first to have ever done that, casing her out, as if his face were saying 'Did you get all that, sweetheart?' He then turned to face the jury again, before the judge could tell him to refrain from harassing the court reporter. Before she consciously realized it, she looked down and saw another piece of paper on the desk. Red ink was everywhere, but amidst the stains and splatters, she made out a few words. Stop him. You're almost out of time. Something was building within her. Despite the fact that she was in her early sixties, she hadn't felt so restless, and, indeed, so thoroughly invigorated, in decades. Her hands weren't hurting, and as she began to type, she found herself opening an instance of Microsoft Word, a separate document from the reporting notary that she would turn in before lunch to the county clerk's office. Her hands moved freely, painlessly, as the message began to take form in front of her. She knew it would be impossible for her to explain such a thing to someone in person, but the entire feeling from the moment she woke up was beginning to take hold, like a seed, sprouting its grasp through her old limbs from the depths of her spirit. The man is innocent. It is the thing within him that must be brought to justice, Ruth. I've taken your body, because you are the only one who could receive me. I've been hunting the thing across the room from you for a long time. It doesn't belong in your world. We're going to purge it. "No further questions, your Honor. This case is unique. The jury has seen everything they could possibly require to convict this man of murder." He took his seat quickly, giving them one last hard stare. Behind those eyes was a hint of desperation, but his adversary looked even more on edge. He knew his client was going away, but the real question was, would he receive the death penalty, or life, or just twenty years? It was impossible to tell with juries nowadays. She'd stopped reporting ages ago. Now, she only stared, dumbfounded, at the message on her monitor. Purge it. Her first tendency would be to think "What the hell does that mean?" And yet, she knew exactly what it meant. She knew, just as she knew that she couldn't stop herself from rising to her feet. Knew, without a doubt, that even a death sentence for William Valencia wouldn't stop the slayings.... that the evil within would migrate to a new body, take on a new persona, and tie up the justice system for another year while dozens were slashed to pieces all over the United States. Knew, that, while perhaps the consequences of her actions in the next few moments might cause pain and suffering, that the ends would justify the means. It will get out. Some may suffer. She came from an angle that took him completely by surprise. Her banister wasn't far behind his own. She heard the gavel, the pounding of uniformed boots on hardwood floors, and the stifled cry from the man's throat as she coiled her old, wrinkled hands around his neck and squeezed with enough bone-crushing force to choke the very life from him. She knew she wouldn't be shot, as the old lady surely couldn't pose enough of a threat to cause permanent damage to the witness. What was inside her, however, had different intentions. As the mace from the bailiff's canister hit her in the face, William's eyes were bugging out, glossing over with a cool blackness as the thing from the nether-realm was expelled through her force of will. Some may suffer. It finally rang home as she saw it trail effortlessly through the court room air, until it was in the jury box. Seven of the twelve were immediately affected, and the sharp object obsession was immediate. It was wild, on the run, unable to control the madness that it instilled upon immediate arrival in a host. All of them had pens. Ballpoints. Plastic Bics. God bless them.... even fountain pens. The foreman, Julian Hayes, was the first. He lifted the gleaming tip of the gold-plated Montblanc executive series, the kind of writing utensil that was there more to prove a point, to say 'Yeah, even my pens cost more than a month's rent for you,' and sank it in to the eyeball of the juror sitting next to him. She lost it, her feral screams drowning out the scurry of bailiffs and pounding of the judge's mallet. By then, it had already seeped in to the crowd of observers. The bailiff had sealed off the court room, and because those who are determined to kill are not limited by weapon choice, but rather, encouraged by their own creativity with whatever objects are available, more people died. Ruth finally released Valencia from her grip, and she knew whatever had helped her in her zeal had now left her forever. Her hands ached with the pain that had temporarily abated before, particularly as they were shoved through the loops of confining handcuffs. The black cloud had a counterpart. The thing that had inspired her to end this, no doubt. Of course, it was a blinding, brilliant blue, warm and enveloping as it surrounded the dark mist and swallowed it whole. Medical technicians and emergency personnel breached the doors and began to usher in quickly, tending to those who'd been blinded by the temporary maddening rage, and yet, as they carried her away, she knew that the aftermath of the debacle was a blessing in comparison to the alternative. She'd saved the lives of thousands that would perish at the mercy of the death-force. She'd been labeled as an "instigator of violence" by the media, and yet, the stare of William Valencia's cool blue eyes, his squeamish smile, and the terse parting of his lips as she passed by suggested that only he knew the scope and true impact of her actions. The mistrial was guaranteed. Oddly, as she looked upon him, it appeared that peace and solace would come much sooner than expected to his soul. He was liberated. Because she'd reported for Malone for well over three decades, he'd arranged to have her released on a misdemeanor of "public disturbance," and, thankfully, it didn't harm her stipend or pension. William Valencia was convicted a few months later in the same courtroom. She hadn't been allowed in due to her outburst, but the judge had deemed him mentally ill, and to the best of her knowledge, he would spend the rest of his life in a La-Z-Boy, watching ESPN and taking one version of anti-anxiety medication or another. He'd taken up the seminary and led a prayer group within his facility every Tuesday, particularly in the summer months, when he'd been rumored to pull the entire hospital together, asking them to consort with him and help him "stay strong for the solstice." She'd never figured out quite what he meant by that. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Three months later, the papers were buzzing with murders and killings, but nowhere near the extent of before. There were Valencia copy-cats, and, yet, one person who seemed to mimic him perfectly, and who seemed to cover his or her tracks without a semblance of evidence. As she filed out of the old building on to the massive limestone stairs after a routine divorce trial, her hands were on fire. Then, she felt as if she'd been hit by an invisible bolt of lightning, and the arthritis in her hands left her immediately. She gasped, and felt frightened at the same time, although she knew what drove her to leap forward on to the armed police officer in front of her was a force for good. Trusted its benevolence, for it was capable of far greater justice in the world than she. I'm sorry, Ruth. He's the last. I promise. She stripped the weapon from his belt before he turned around with a furious, black-lidded gaze, and recognized him as the hesitant guard who'd escorted Valencia in the initial proceedings. He offered her a wicked smile. "You'll never stop it, you old crotchety bitch." As she disengaged the safety on his firearm, he pulled the serrated knife blade from his jacket pocket in an instant, severing the carotid from her throat. Before she fell to the pavement, her desperate legacy fired off two shots, catching him square in the forehead. As she was lifted to the expanse of blue warmth above the courthouse, floating in an infinite dream, the black cloud imprisoned in the light around her, she was thankful for one thing, as she felt the promise, the growing assurance in the center of her non-physical being. It's gone. Come with me, Ruth. There's nothing left for you here but pain. Her hands would never hurt again.

Credit to: Violent Harvest

#creepypasta #horror microfiction

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