#also coming up with screen names for them was hard??? I feel like Marvin wouldn’t get the new fangled tech and would just write his name

[reality-wont-ruin-my-life]

This is real I watched them tweet it myself

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—

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(Marvin tweet originally posted by @seafemme on Twitter all credit to them I just saw it and went hm. Wow. That’s about whizzer for sure)

[internalsealpanic]

Cosmonauts

Summary: You always call Tim space related nicknames. No one knows why.

A/n: This is technically a follow up to Art Gallery Smile but it can be read on its own. This was posted on mobile so Idk how bad it got formatted. Will edit when I get to my laptop.

Warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety. No graphic detail but just in case. (Yes, I gave Tim anxiety. Fight me.)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“IT WAS ZOMBIE ADJACENT,” Roz protests, shoving another one of Tim’s fries into her gaping maw in a vain attempt to stop the petulant pout retching its way to her lips. You roll your eyes hard enough that your entire head follows along with their movement, taking a nibble of your own fries. Roz scowls, mouth twitching the way yours does (4 times to the left and 4 and a half times to the right) it was honestly the only way to tell that you two were related in any shape or form. 

“It wasn’t even close, you deep-fried stick of margarine,”

“It shambled, didn’t it?”

 

“So does Space Case over here when you don’t funnel enough caffeine into his system, what’s your point?” You bite out leaning back, slinging your arm over the back of the bench and over Tim’s shoulder making his breath hitch. Tim can feel his skin heat up. For once, he’s thankful for just how much Roz hordes your attention.  He’s starting to run out of excuses for the color of his cheeks. Not that you ever fell for any of it from the way you hummed every time he stammered out his excuse. 

 

Based on the way your hand flexes and not so subtly moves away, you noticed his flush but made no comment. Instead, you grin- all sharp teeth and cocksure and smug bastard- leveling your older cousin a look which roughly translated to ‘Checkmate, motherfucker’. Despite his apprehension, Tim can’t help the smile that twitched on to his lips. Your eyes flickered to him. It might just be his imagination but Tim was pretty sure he saw fondness chip away at your smug grin. Tim kind of wants to lean into your arm but instead, he leans forward pretending to pay attention hiding his smile in his hands. His face is gonna get tired from smiling too much around you. 

"It wasn't even close,"

"It was freaky looking,"

"Damn woman, you're being real judgy there,"

“Back me up here Duckie!” Roz screeches, shoulders hiking up making her look like a frazzled cat about to hiss pulling Tim away from his reverie. You roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head while Steph just snorts. Tim sighs. None of you have stopped calling him ‘Duckie’ or ‘Ducktective’ after that stint of being ‘Drake’.  Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea but you didn’t have to laugh that hard and slap your knee. When you were done laughing, you vehemently protested the name change by wearing your precious, well-kept, one of a kind Red Robin hoodie for the duration of the ‘Drake’ thing. You had said it was to bring him back to his senses (sense of fashion).  Maybe you just wanted to fluster him. He certainly couldn’t put it past you. It worked. Oh, it definitely worked. Now, all he could think about was how nice you looked in his colors which inevitably lead him to think about how nice you would look in his shirts, in his clothes- Damn it. He’s doing it again. 

Roz clears her throat. It is loud and rough and it makes all of you wince despite the already loud atmosphere of the cafeteria. Really what does Roz expect him to say? One, Tim wasn’t fully paying attention. How could he when you two are smooshed together on a cramped cafeteria bench with you still wearing your Red Robin hoodie? Tim’s surprised he isn’t keeling over. Two- 

 

“See! Even our darling-” Tim’s brain short circuits. “Space Cadet can’t even defend your bullshit,” you laugh reaching over to Roz’s drink leaning a little too close to Tim’s face. He can almost feel the heat radiating off your skin. 

 

If I lean in just a little more, I could probably…

 

“It isn’t bullshit!”

 

“You’re right! Bullshit has more substance-”

 

“Sooooo, what’s with all the space nicknames for Tim? When do I get one?” Steph asks casually, popping another of Tim’s fries into her mouth. 

 

Has he even eaten any of his fries? It’s almost gone and he’s eaten at most one.

 

You choke making a pained noise, likely due to said carbonated drink going into your nostrils (and possibly your lungs), as you turn away. Your neck visibly red from where Tim is sitting. Based on the sparkle in Steph’s eyes, she can see it too. A manic grin spreads on Roz’s face wide enough that Tim legitimately worries that it’ll split her face wide open. A shrill sort of giggle escapes her which has you whipping your head to her direction to scowl at her. It does absolutely nothing to deter the sheer glee on her face as she sneers back to you. Some secret conversation passes between the two of you. Tim and Steph watch in slow motion as mortification creeps on to your face. 

 

Suddenly (not really), Tim’s thankful that his only sister is practically a saint. At least compared to the horror that is Roz. 

 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, you have a plethora of space-themed nicknames for him when you aren’t busy calling him whatever endearingly aggravating name Steph came up with that week. 

 

Cosmo

 

Space Case

 

Space Nuts

 

Rocket Man

Martian Manhunter

 

ET

 

Marvin (the Martian)

 

And your favorite, Cosmonaut.

 

At first, he figures it was because of his obsession love for Star Wars and Star Trek but no, that couldn’t be it since you had started calling him that long before you two ended up marathoning the entirety of Star Trek instead of working on your project. He can still remember just how engrossed you looked while watching as you hugged your knees to your chest leaning forward as you waited for the next episode to start up with bated breath. Your features highlighted by the glow of the laptop screen making it very easy for Tim to memorize the contours and angles of your expression. Yet another moment Tim really wanted to capture with a photo. You even did your mouth twitch thing without noticing.

 

 He really wanted to just keep an entire album of all the different expressions you made. Wait. That sounds weird. Does it sound weird? It probably does.

 

 Then again, maybe you called him those because of just how much of a weirdo he was. He couldn’t blame you if you did. But he found that highly unlikely. Sure, you can be mean at times (a lot of times) but you were too oblique for that. Years in customer service made sure of that. Your jabs were usually of the subtler, more needling variety. The type that makes you pause for too long.  Plus, you said every nickname with a fondness that made his heart skip a beat. It was like when you called Roz or Steph ‘Fucker’. Maybe a little warmer. Or he could just be imagining that. Probably. Hopefully not. It was hard to get the honey-sweet way you said them out of his head.

 

Maybe they were just jabs. Lighthearted one. They could have just had easily been comments on just how much he spaced out. Tim has a tendency to live in his own head and it shows especially when he’s stressed or tired or both. Sometimes he would completely shut down as a result of excess anxiety. He can still remember the number of times he had let his anxieties run rampant letting them drag him away from the moment. His breaths were too quick to back then. He felt like he was gonna faint but then you just smiled at him like you were there for him which as it turned out you were. You gently squeezed each segment of his fingers until his breaths slowed. Even when he did fully calm down, you didn’t relinquish his hand. You held them firmly in your own even as you looked entirely unsure of what to do and what to say. You didn’t whisper the usual ‘you’re ok’ or the classic ‘you’ll be fine’. No, you just sat there with him quietly. Letting his feelings ebb and flow as he needed them to. 

 

Tim really isn’t sure what he did to deserve even knowing someone like you but he would do it again and again if it meant being able to stick close to you. 

 

Roz, ever the agent of chaos, throws a conspiratorial smile around the table like a flail. You look like you’ve been hit by one.

 

“Sorry, Steph. You won’t get one,” she says glancing at you. Steph pouts before she and Tim follow Roz’s gaze expecting you to glower or snarl or get up to deck her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You just kind of sit there frozen and mortified with a face that simply says ‘Oh. God. This is happening.’. All you can really do is mouth a ‘fuck you’. This obviously pleases Roz. Say what you will about Roz, but there is abso-fucking-lutely no denying that she is petty as hell when it comes to revenge. Nothing is sacred to this woman. Nothing.

 

“Why’s that?” Steph asks innocently, smiling around her bendy straw also enjoying this rare chance to torment you. 

 

“I’m so glad you asked!” Roz answers her voice twisting into a horrifying facsimile of a daytime talk show host. You peel your arm away from the backrest and place your arms over your head and neck as you do in an earthquake drill bracing for impact. By the way, you were shaking, you’d think there was an actual earthquake. Your reasoning can’t be that stupid. 

 

“My dear Stephanie-” Steph scrunches her nose at the overly sweet tone Roz lathers on her name but makes no move to interrupt. “(y/n) only uses space-related nicknames for people they think are- and I quote- ‘waaaaaay outta their league’,” You let out a pained groan and Steph’s face unfurls as she lets out the loudest snort, loud enough to draw the attention of several tables around them. 

 

Tim’s mind is still reeling, still trying to process what Roz just said. 

 

Him?

 

Out of your league? 

 

Excuse him, isn’t it the other way around? 

 

What the hell? 

 

“Tim, for the love of Alfred, please unhear that,” you plead wetly, parking your head out just enough for Tim to see just how red your face has gotten. “God, please unhear it or I might just die,” Tim kind of didn’t doubt that you would. Steph somehow laughs even louder at this. Roz, not one to miss pouring salt in the wound, laughs along with her. You look like you wanted to implode out of existence.  You could certainly try but Tim seriously doubts the universe is kind enough to let you escape. 

 

Yeah, Tim’s brain has officially left the building. He’ll be back at 9 o’clock sharp tomorrow. Promise. 

 

“You mean to tell me that-” Steph chokes, unable to control her laughing fit. “-You’re telling me that you’ve been watching them pine for each other for over a year now and you just let them?!” Steph wheezes still holding her stomach.  

 

Roz looks offended and makes a whiny little noise. “Weeeell, technically I offered to wingman-”

 

“YOU WERE GONNA CHARGE ME FIFTY BUCKS,” 

 

“Hey, matchmaking is hard,”

 

“It isn’t worth fifty bucks!”

 

“You’re right! It is worth so much more,”

 

“God, I hate you,” you groan into the table. 

 

“God can’t help you now, kid,”

Tim frowns, mind backtracking to dissect the information. Apparently, his brain decided to clock back in. 

 

They knew. Even Roz ‘I don’t give a shit what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me’ Andrada, noticed. Was he that obvious?

A year? Wait. No. Over a year. They knew about this for over a year. 

Lastly, what do you mean each other?! As in mutual? Mutual pining? 

As if reading his thoughts, you ask “Wait… what do you mean each other?”

 

Roz blinks at you not entirely sure if you’re being funny. When you give her a look, she slumps back in her chair. “I’m related to a dumbass,”

 

“That you are. Speaking of dumbasses-” Steph whips her attention to Tim giving him a shit-eating grin.”-You said you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask (y/n) out, right?” Steph waves her hands doing jazz hands as she points at your still dumbstruck figure. She’s smiling as if she was the world’s best wingman at the moment.

 

 Tim suppresses a groan. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,”

 

Roz reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter. Grabbing the last of Tim’s fries and lighting it. “There. Mood lighting. Do the thing.”

 

“Ah yes, because surely the scent of burning potatoes is gonna sweep (y/n ) off their feet,”  Tim said flatly crossing his arms. He knows he’s definitely focusing on the wrong thing but as with all things it was easier to procrastinate. This is especially true when you’re afraid of the outcome.   

 

Roz huffs, waving the fry to extinguish it and muttering something about beggars and choosers. “Trust me kid that isn’t hard to do. Besides, did you not hear the part where I quoted (y/n) about you being ‘outta their league’,” You open your mouth to protest but slam it shut when Roz gives you a lopsided grin looking like she had a mountain of dirt on you which she likely did. He was definitely thankful that she has never met his family. He’s pretty sure Gotham wouldn’t survive. 

 

“How could I possibly be out of (y/n)’s league. I- I don’t- I mean- I’m not-”

 

Your body twists his way fast enough that he’s sure you either have whiplash or a twisted spine. Your eyes are set on him glowering as if he’d said something wrong. He’s pretty sure he didn’t although he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. Your jaw is set tight, your teeth almost grind. He could see the tight hitch in your shoulders. He is 100% sure you’re going to deck him. 

 

“Do you want it listed alphabetically or what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Structure it like an argumentative essay. Speak nerd.” Roz instructs, earning her the full force of your glare. Your face pinches even more. Maybe this was the part where you implode. 

 

You suck in a calming breath before turning back to Tim. 

 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are a fucking moron, and here’s why:” Taking another breath, you turn to face him fully your cheeks reddening but you press on either from pure unadulterated spite or determination. 

 

“You quite literally co-run a multibillion-dollar corporation. You’ve been doing that since you were seventeen apparently. You know several languages and you are not only fluent but proficient. You’re well versed in an insane amount of fighting styles. You are the smartest dumbass I know-” 

“Preach!” Steph jokes. 

 

“-You can basically operate any machinery I put in front of you. I have no doubt you can Macgyver one up if you fucking wanted. You could hack into any system you want just as a joke. You could probably throw the entire global economy into the toilet just for shits and giggles. Need I go on?”

 

Tim looks at you wide-eyed and speechless. You shrink a little as he continues to gape at you but you keep looking him in the eyes daring him to refute your claims. Really what was there to say? As much as he wants to come up with something witty to snap back at you, his chest is too crowded with warmth from the absolute sincerity of your voice. He knows you didn’t set out to make him fall deeper in love with you but he feels like he’s in free fall with your gravity pulling him downwards. Tim can feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears. 

 

You shrink again, your mouth twitching. “I-” Another calming breath. “I said too much. But my point stands!” The infinitesimal gap he felt between the two of you practically vanished. Still, he could do nothing but stare. Words fail him in the most inopportune moments even when you look so desperate for any kind of response.  You swallow thickly looking like you think you’ve ruined everything when the fact was you haven’t. Quite the opposite really. Tim feels like he could take on the entirety of Gotham’s rogue gallery right now. Still, his brain was drawing a blank. 

 

“Mood,” His brain has short-circuited and is now beyond repair. His palm is in his face before he even sees your reaction. You give him an entire speech about how great he is and all he can say is ‘mood’. Looking over at Steph and seeing her phone on her hands, he can tell she’s already transcribing the events to the group chat. Well, It can’t get any worse. 

 

You giggle snort eyes slamming shut from the force of your laughter. Joy suffuses throughout your tense body, loosening your tense muscles. “Thank you for proving my point,” you say between gasps.  

 

Tim falls victim to the infectious smile spreading on your face. He feels the warmth crowding his chest grow fuzzy. 

 

Now’s your chance.  

 

Tim takes a steadying breath. He rolls his shoulder back to straighten his posture. He waits for you to calm yourself a bit. When you do, he asks as confidently as he can “Are you free this Saturday?”

 

“No,”

 

Oh crap. He knew he screwed up. He feels cold seep into his feet.  

 

You shake your head at his panic. “I work Saturday, ET,”

 

“Oh, I-”

 

“I have all of Sunday off though,” A hum of excitement spreads through his limbs. “Name your time,”

 

“9 AM?”

 

You give him a look roughly translating to ‘You aren’t going to lose sleep over a date, so help me’.

 

“11:30?” He corrects. You smile and hum seemingly making the oxygen in the atmosphere disappear. He finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he feels like he’s floating on zero gravity. 

 

-------------------------------------------------

Bonus: 

 

Steph: Tim’s a dumbass😌🙃

Damian: Thank you for stating the obvious, Brown. 

Step: 🙄 Do you wanna hear about it or not?

Dick: 👀We’re listening…

Steph: (Y/n) made this whole speech about Tim and all Tim could say was 'mood' cycgu9c8ychic8td 5d8fcouv9ygpuv

Jason: F

Duke: F

Cass: F

Babs: F

Dick: F

---------------

Thanks for reading!!!!!

Taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish, @batarella, @batarella-mini, @birdy-bat-writes, @anothertimdrakestan, @founduebitches , @lucy-roo

[immabethehero]

Chase’s Bday Present Pt 1

Runs in holding a latte *wheeze...* I’m here! And I have three presents for Chase because I’m indecisive as hell! So! Here is the first birthday present, a sweet little ditty I wrote!

CW: talk of food, slight body horror and stitches mention (Robbie), and Soft Anti

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Septic house was in disarray. Jameson Jackson frantically polished the stairway and furniture until it sparkled, Marvin the Magnificent washed the dishes while Jackieboy Man dried them, and Antisepticeye cleaned up the living room seats. All the while, Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, MD, PhD, MVP, FFS, loomed over all of them, barking orders while cleaning the floors. Robbie the zombie was the only one not under Schneep’s scrutiny, having wisely taken shelter in the laundry room, folding clothes and ironing while waiting to put the next load in. Sirius and Sam, Marvin’s cat and Henrik’s dog respectively, had taken to hiding upstairs.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Anti said as he vacuumed up the couch and cushioned seats. “It’s just Chase. He’s seen this house before, why bother cleaning it?”

“Chase hasn’t been here in awhile! I want him to receive a warm welcome back!” Henrik explained. “I do hope he enjoyed the cottage with Stacy and the kids though.”

“It’s only been two weeks! Not much has changed since!” Anti groaned.

“Jameson turned you into a turtle,” Marvin pointed out. Jameson snickered at the memory.

“Henrik tried his first bit of magic!” Jackie added. “Managed to turn Jameson into a duck!”

“See? Loads happened while he was gone,” Henrik finished. Anti rolled his eyes and went out to beat the rugs.

“Jameson, can you tune the piano? One of us might want to play something upon his arrival, and we can’t have the piano broken when we do so,” Henrik asked. Jameson nodded and happily left his cloth on the staircase, hands aching to touch the piano.

Henrik put the vacuum away and turned to the flower vase on the living room table. Daffodils. They didn’t seem quite as bright as they did earlier.

“Do you think we should change the flowers in the vase?” Henrik wondered out loud.

“Daffodils are Chase’s favourite flowers!” Anti yelled from outside. “I think we’re okay!”

“They look so dull, though,” Henrik remarked.

“I have an idea!” Marvin cried out. He dried his hands and ran over. “Stargazer lilies are also Chase’s favourite flower! Jameson and I have been growing them in our garden while he was gone. I can pluck a few and replace them!”

“Aren’t they poisonous to cats?” Jackie asked, nervously looking over at Sirius, who had descended to lie on the steps.

“Sirius hates flowers, the smell bothers her. She won’t go near them. But just in case-” Marvin picked up the vase and put them on the dining room table, then summoned a forcefield to keep Sirius away. Just for good measure, he also created two plastic cucumbers and placed them around the plant. Henrik and Jackie snickered. Marvin could hear Sirius scowling at him.

“I’ll get some lilies!” Marvin said, picking the daffodils up and running out. He almost collided with Anti, who was holding at least six rugs. Anti threw the rugs down one by one, then flopped onto the couch, yawning.

“Anti, don’t tell me you’re tired already!” Henrik said, sighing exasperatedly. “There’s still so much to do!”

“Like what?” mumbled Anti, eyes threatening to close.

“Like a treat! I was thinking of making a sweet dessert for Chase!” Henrik announced.

“But we just cleaned the kitchen!” complained Jackie.

“Relax, I’ll clean everything when I’m done,” Henrik reassured. “You go rest, I’ll be hogging the kitchen for a while!”

Jackie nodded and gratefully stumbled over to the couch, hoping to catch some winks before Chase’s return.

“Can I help?” Robbie asked, finally emerging from the laundry room.

{I can help as well!} offered Jameson bouncing back from the piano.

“Thanks guys,” Henrik said. “This is a new recipe we’ll be making: Cheddar Biscuits.”

Robbie and Jameson froze and stared at Henrik quizzically. “What?”

“Cheddar biscuits. Stacy emailed me the recipe,” Henrik explained. “They’re apparently really good.”

“Even the name sounds like a treat!” Jameson sighed. “Let’s make them!”

Henrik, Jameson and Robbie spent the next hour or so in the kitchen. Jameson and Henrik did the bulk of the work, Jameson mixing dry ingredients while Henrik did liquid, while Robbie shredded cheese and melted butter with pieces of garlic in them.

Finally, they clumped the mixture together and spread butter on them, then popped them in the oven and washed up the dishes.

When they were done, at least 24 golden brown scones had been made. The six egos marvelled over the glorious little treats. Even Sam and Sirius couldn’t resist coming over and squeezing through to sniff the food. Anti reached a hand out, only to have it smacked away by Henrik.

“Wait until Chase is home, you greedy monster!” he scolded. Anti grunted in frustration.

The biscuits were placed in a little basket with two napkins on top to keep them fresh, then hidden in the bottom cupboard next to the oven, where Henrik kept his coffee beans. No one with a braincell dared to go near Henrik’s coffee supply, and only few ever survived getting in.

*

“Everything is finished! We can rest now!” Marvin cried in delight.

“Can’t wait for Chase to see!” Jackie said happily. “How long before he returns?”

Henrik checked his watch. “Not until 6 o’clock at the latest!”

The egos collectively groaned in frustration. Only 1:30 pm and now they had to wait!

 “You woke us all up at 6:30 in the fucking morning for this?! We could have slept a little longer you know!” Jackie snapped.

“Yeah, especially after you kept us all up with you Facetiming Chase until midnight last night!” Marvin added.

“If Chase notices the bags under my eyes, it’s because of you!” Jameson griped.

“At least everything is ready now!” Henrik reasoned. “Now all we have to do is wait! And not mess up the house in those few hours! If you want to do something, make sure it involves little movement or anything that could shake the house up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking a nap!” He flounced upstairs, leaving the egos to find any activity to pass the time.

*

Two hours passed. Jameson taught Robbie how to play cribbage. Jackie and Anti attempted to teach Marvin how to play, or rather, cheat at Mario Kart. Henrik switched between pacing the front hallway and playing Solitaire and Bio Inc Redemption on his laptop.

“Henrik, do sit down and relax!” Jameson finally said after Henrik got up for the thirteen time.

“I can’t help it! I miss Chase! I want to talk to him again!” Henrik moaned.

“You spent three hours with him on Facetime last night!” Anti exclaimed.

“There is a very big difference between Facetiming someone and seeing them in person!” Henrik retorted. “Do you know how hard it is to talk to him and not smell his vanilla scent or feel his warm embrace? I miss seeing him at the table with his messy hair and stupid puns. I miss hearing his laugh in person. I miss him so badly.”

“Are we jokes to you?!” Marvin demanded. “We miss him too, Henrik, but we have each other. You literally said you enjoyed sitting next to me on movie nights!”

“I know… maybe I’m just being too clingy,” Henrik sighed, sitting down beside Marvin.

Anti snapped his fingers and Mario Kart showed up on Henrik’s computer screen. “Here. Try playing a few games with us and he’ll come sooner.”

Another hour passed. Jameson read. Henrik screamed in fury as he lost another round of Mario Kart. Anti laughed at him. Marvin gave up and started playing Animal Crossing. Jackie grabbed a snack and watched Youtube. Robbie and Sam were fast asleep on the floor. Jameson laughed softly and conjured a blanket to put over them, then went back to his reading.

Henrik was raging so loudly they almost didn’t hear the doorbell. Jameson was the first to hear it. He whistled to get the others’ attention. Robbie woke up and groggily rubbed his eyes.

“Do you hear that?” Jameson asked, putting his ear up to listen. Another ring. Then a voice cried out, “Hello? Are you going to let me in? Did you already forget me? Have I been kicked out?”

Henrik gasped in delight and almost threw his laptop onto the floor, but Anti was quick to save it as the doctor jumped out his seat and dashed over the front door, swinging it open.

Chase Brody stood in the doorway, still playing with the doorbell. He jumped when he noticed the door open.

“CHASE!!!!” Henrik squealed, throwing himself on the vlogger. “I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!” Chase giggled as Henrik showered him with kisses and squeezed him tightly. Sam danced around them, barking happily.

“Hello, Henrik. Long time, no see.” Chase waved to the others. “Hey guys!”

“Chase! Welcome home!” Marvin said, running over to hug him. “We missed you too, but probably not as much as Henrik.”

“Yeah… Henrik? Could you let me go, please?” Chase wheezed. Henrik was starting to suffocate him. “I… can’t… breathe…”

“Come inside! We made treats!” Robbie cried, dragging Chase in by the hand.

“Did you now?” Chase sniffed the air. “Ooh, I can smell it!”

“We also ordered some chocolate snacks from Shawn Flynn’s Sweet Menagerie, just to celebrate your return!” Jackie added.

“Sounds awesome!” Chase exclaimed.

{Come, make yourself at home!} Jameson said. Chase was led to the couch, where his feet were propped up and a blanket was thrown over him. Sam jumped up beside him and curled up next to him, lying her head on his lap.

Henrik and Jackie set the table while Jameson and Anti got the food out. Chase would have happily gotten up to join them, but he was too tired to move, and Sam wouldn’t budge.

Marvin chuckled when he saw the sight. “Why don’t we eat in the living room tonight? Turn on Netflix and have a little movie fest?” The egos were quick to agree, and Henrik served Chase’s plate to him ona tray, choosing to sit next to him. Sam moved to the other side of the couch, letting Henrik in.

“Here you go! Dinosaur nuggets with mashed potatoes!” Henrik announced, setting the plate down. “Jameson convinced me to mix garlic butter into the potatoes this time, like you used to do!”

“It smells delicious!” Chase exclaimed in ecstasy. He dipped a nugget in the mashed potatoes and ate it, humming happily.

“So what movie are we watching?” Robbie asked, grabbing the remote.

“You’ve probably seen quite a few new movies at Stacy’s cottage,” Jackie told Chase. “Why don’t you decide?”

Chase shrugged. “Just a few. None of us could ever agree, so it was rare for us to watch a new movie. But we all agreed on this sweet little film.” Chase flipped through Amazon Prime until he found a title called This Beautiful Fantastic.

“It’s about a girl who wants to become a writer and slowly learns how to become a gardener.” Chase pressed play and they watched the film. Chase, Henrik and Sam on the couch, Marvin on the purple reclining chair, Anti on the teal green armchair, and Jameson, Jackie and Robbie on the ground.

Halfway through the movie, Jackie remarked, “That father reminds me a lot of you, Chase. I can see why you liked it.”

“Vern?” Chase asked. “He’s just a dad trying to raise his kids. What makes you think I’m like him?”

“You’re both sweet, and a total dork,” Marvin said. Chase playfully threw a pillow at him. Marvin snickered and exaggeratedly hugged the pillow. “I’m keeping this.”

“You both love cooking,” Jameson added.

“And you’re a devoted family man!” Henrik interjected.

“You are all so kind to me,” Chase said with a sigh. “I don’t deserve you guys.”

“Shut up, of course you do!” Marvin said.

“No I don’t!” Chase playfully retorted.

“Shhh, lies!” Jackie hissed, smiling.

“Stop!” Chase cried, blushing. “Seriously though, I didn’t think I would be getting the royal treatment after only two weeks away. I really didn’t do anything.”

“Funny, that’s what we said whenever we returned from vacations and travels,” Jackie remarked. “That didn’t stop you from throwing us a welcome back party.”

“It didn’t stop you from giving me a cake after my 100th successful surgery,” Henrik said.

“Or taking me to a fancy restaurant on my first full day without popping a stitch or losing a limb,” Robbie added.

“You bought me a handsome vest when I got that role I so desperately wanted,” Jameson reminisced.

“You’re a wonderful test subject for all my new spells,” Marvin said.

“You always celebrate us and our successes,” Jackie said. “After all you’ve done for us, I think it’s safe to say you deserve the best from us.”

Chase felt his eyes water up. Face red, he looked down, feeling embarrassed. He rubbed his eyes, smiling. “Thank you. You guys are always so sweet.”

Henrik gently kissed his forehead. “Welcome back, Chase.”

Chase finished wiping his eyes and looked up. “So. What happened when I was gone?”

Henrik grinned. “So, remember when I told you about getting magic lessons from Marvin? Funny story...”

~~~~~

@milo-kno, here’s your punishment >:3 Part one!

@graysun, @florenceisfalling, @miishae, @lonelyseiren, @goldenoceanaart, @egopocalypse, @oasisofgalaxies, @fleecal, @kofi-kiing, @myspatialspace, @jo-ann-ahh-2, @huffletrax, @gemstone6, @dumbasticart, @lunaarmada,@meteorshowersfillthesky, @uhhbeans,  @the-pastel-kitsune, @bupine,  @climbing-starrs, @the-spawn-of-loki, @jadehowlettthewolf, @obsidiancreates, @rammypaige, @hollenka99, @cest-mellow, @randowaffle, @green-protects, @dezi-popp, @badlypostedeverything, @crystalninjaphoenix, @milo-kno, @pixelpixie-pix, @why-killed-markiplier

[alexisthedevilsfox]

Just a friend

Hi ^-^ One day, while I was enjoying a peaceful life, I heard a song that gave me an idea for a scene that I had to write immediately. 

Well... then I had that one scene but that was it.

But when @lace-maze and I talked about it, we both had some ideas, so now I have the whole story. 

Fandom: Jacksepticeye

Pairing: Schneeplebro (Chase and Henrik)

Summary:  Just a friend. That's what Chase is for Henrik, but... he wants to be more... so much more.

Warning: There is angst but don't worry, it has a happy ending. In fact, I would describe it with a sentence from Harry Potter: You're gonna suffer, but you're gonna be happy about it.

Oh also... Big thank you to Lace for being my beta and my partner in crime xD

Just a friend

Chase was a happy person. He really was. After he stopped drinking, found a therapist, and settled things with Stacy, his life began to feel more like... well, life. He could see all the mistakes he had made, but he learned to face them and solve his problems. Or at least he tried to solve them if he could. 

The green haired man also learned that he could ask his friends for help. There was always someone who was willing to help him, most of the time Henrik. The doctor was a big help and Chase had no idea what he would do without him.

The problem was that Henrik ... was the source of his sadness lately. 

They were friends for so long, that it took him two years after his divorce with Stacy to realize that he loved him as more than just a friend. But then he also realized that he probably didn't stand a chance with Henrik. Chase was a realist in this. Who would want such an emotional mess as he was? Especially Henrik, who was so damn smart, handsome and a doctor.

He was the dream of every mother who wanted to marry their daughter to a doctor. Well, actually… who wanted to marry their daughter in general.

Chase, on the other hand, was just a regular guy who liked to make stupid jokes and watch cartoons. He was nothing special, so he decided that even though he loved Henrik, he wouldn't tell him. Chase didn't want to ruin their friendship, and he was sure it would be enough for him to be Henrik's best friend.

Well... after a few months, he realized he was wrong.

Almost every time they were outside, for example for dinner or coffee, there was someone who came to them and told them that they made such a cute couple or asked them how long they had been together and he then had to listen to Henrik say quickly that they were just friends. It was as if Henrik was practicing the answer because he always told it almost the same way, without the slightest hesitation. 

At first it was fine, they even joked together that they would definitely be the perfect couple. That they would even surpass Marvin and Jackie. It was funny and he laughed at the idea of them being that picture perfect family with white picket fence and maybe a dog. 

But after a while, it stopped being funny. It started to hurt him every time he heard Henrik say, "Oh no, he's just my best friend." 

He realized that he actually wanted them to be that perfect family. It would be so easy.

His children loved Henrik, even jokingly calling him their second dad and Henrik's children called Chase "dadcle", the cutest combo of 'dad' and 'uncle' merged together. He loved them for it. It was so sweet to call him that and he would be happy to be their actual stepdad. He also knew that if he wanted it to become a reality, all he had to do was tell Henrik how he felt, but it was so fucking hard. Every time he had the words on his tongue, Henrik said the damn word starting with F, Chase just lost his courage or both options at once.

Unfortunately, this was not all. 

To make matters worse, Henrik started going out with a woman. According to what the doctor told him, her name was Grace and she was a nurse, working in the children's ward and Henrik spoke very nicely about her.

When Chase saw her for the first time, he almost cried. Her bright blue eyes looked at Henrik with love and she looked like a kind woman. 

That day he felt as if someone had ripped his heart out. Even Henrik noticed that something was really wrong and asked him what's going on. But Chase dismissed him, saying that he was just not feeling well and that he's going home. He didn't want to ruin it for Henrik, because he deserved to be happy, even if it was with someone else. Even so, it didn't change the fact that it hurt like hell. 

Because of Grace and also because of his own mental health, he began to distance himself from Henrik. He just couldn't handle being so close to him anymore. Especially when he knew that Henrik was already taken.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

One afternoon his phone rang, Henrik's name on the screen. For a moment he considered not picking it up, but he hadn't spoken to Henrik in a long time, so at the last moment he answered.

“Hi, Hen. What’s up?” he asked.

“Hello, Chase.” Henrik's slightly deeper voice came from the phone. “I've been thinking... we haven't seen each other in a long time, so what if I came to your apartment? If you have time, that is.” the doctor said.

“Uhm…” Chase had no idea what to say. He really wanted to see him but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea.

“I'll bring food. How about your favourite, Hawaiian pizza?” Henrik continued.

“But... you hate pineapple on pizza.” the green haired man mumbled.

“Yes, but I like you so I’m willing to eat that monstrosity with you.” a quiet laugh could be heard from the phone. Chase's heart skipped a beat.

“Awww… man, how did I deserve such a great sacrifice?” he asked.

“I've already said it, we haven't seen each other in a long time.” Henrik answered, and Chase was overwhelmed with guilt. It was his fault that they didn't see each other as often as before, because he couldn't deal with his own fucking feelings.

“Okay then, you can come.” the sad dad really wanted to see him again, and he wouldn't turn down the pizza either.

“Great. I'll go for the pizza and then to you. Want anything else? What if I brought donuts?” the enthusiasm in the doctor's voice was impossible to overhear, and Chase sighed.

“You missed me that much, huh?” how the hell does he have to forget how he feels about Henrik when the man does things like that?

“Yes, I did.” Henrik answered immediately, “but no more talking, bye for now and I'll see you in an hour.” he said and hung up. Chase stared at the phone for a moment, then set it down on the coffee table and looked around the living room. The room wasn't that messy, but it wasn't downright clean either, so he decided to clean up a bit. Thanks to that, he didn't even register how much time had passed and was interrupted only by the doorbell. Chase swallowed nervously and went to open the door.

Henrik looked as good as ever. Even in those worn out jeans and t-shirt, he looked like a treat.

“Hello, Chase.” the doctor smiled, a pizza box in his hands and on top of that a box from Krispy Kreme.

“Uhm… Hi. Come in.” Chase steps away from the door so Henrik can come inside. He was afraid it would be weird, but instead everything went back to normal.

They both settled in the living room and spent a good half hour arguing about what movie they should watch. When they finally decided which movie to play, they opened the pizza box and started to eat. They talked about their kids, their work and how they were doing. It was nice but then Henrik mentioned Grace.

“Uhm... how is she? How do you enjoy being in a relationship again?” Chase asked, though he didn't actually want to know.

“Oh we… we’re not together anymore.” Henrik replied. the green haired man blinked in confusion. He didn't expect Henrik to tell him they broke up.

“W… why?” he needed to know.

“Well, we realized that it doesn't work, we don't feel what we should have as a couple. Grace is more of a good friend than a girlfriend.” he shrugged. 

It seemed to Chase that Henrik didn't really mind, but he still said, “I'm sorry it turned out that way.” because what else was he supposed to say? Chase wasn't sorry at all, but that would be really rude to say, “Can I… help you somehow? Do you wanna… Get well soon card?” he joked, and Henrik rewarded him with a snort.

“No, you're helping me now. By the way, thank you for that.” the doctor smiled, “It would be easier if I could find someone as funny and kind as you.” he added, and Chase suddenly lost his words.

“I uhm… Thanks?” He replied stiffly. ‘Say it you loser. Say… Date me then.’ Chase tried to convince himself to say it out loud.

“I mean it. Who wouldn't want to date you?” Chase heard what Henrik was saying, but he still couldn't bring himself to say the words he wanted, his throat tightening with anxiety and Henrik continued, “You’re a great guy, Chase and I’m really happy that you’re my best friend.”

After these words, something snapped in Chase. The anxiety disappeared and was replaced by anger. There was that fucking word again.

Best friend.

Only a best friend.

“Yeah... best friend. That’s what I am.” he said bitterly. Henrik's blue-gray eyes looked at him with surprise.

“Did I say something wrong?” the doctor asked.

“Nothing! You didn't say anything wrong.” the green haired man snapped. He desperately needed to move, he couldn't just sit there, so he got up from the couch and started pacing back and forth through the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Henrik got up too.

“Clearly, I had to say something because you're angry now. What's wrong?” there was confusion and guilt in the doctor's eyes, and Chase felt terrible, which for some reason fueled his anger even more.

“Nothing is fucking wrong, okay!?” Chase shouted, hands clenched into a fist, “Just… just go home Henrik. I… I can’t talk with you right now.” he tried to say calmly, body still shaking with anger.

“Chase, we haven't talked in a long time and now that something is obviously wrong and it looks like my fault, you don't even want to talk to me? Seriously, what’s wrong? Please, we’re friends. We can figure it out.” Henrik tried to speak softly and calmly, hoping Chase would calm down.

“Friends, huh?! Well, there’s some fucking news for you. I don’t wanna be your friend anymore!” the words fell out of his mouth too easily. Powered by anger and desperation, followed by a complete shock of what he said. Blue-gray eyes stared at him in stunned disbelief. Uncomfortable silence spread between them and the only thing Chase could hear was his own heart pounding in his ears.

“Well then… if that's what you want, then so be it” the doctor managed in a trembling voice. Chase could hear the pain in his voice but he was so shocked by his own words that his brain couldn't form a response, much less get it out of his mouth.

“Goodbye, Chase.” Henrik said as he turned to leave the room.

That finally forced Chase to act. He grabbed Henrik's hand and squeezed it tightly. “Please, wait! Don’t go,” the green haired man had no idea what he was going to do.

“What? What more do you want from me?!” Henrik looked at him and freed his hand from his grip.

“I wanna… I didn’t… I didn't mean it that way.” Chase mumbled.

“How did you mean it then?” Blue-gray eyes watched him with intensity and Chase gulped.

“I… I can’t tell you.” He tried.

“Either tell me or I'm leaving and I guarantee you we won't see each other for a long time!” The doctor said, anger slowly overtaking him. Chase looked at him desperately, his eyes filled with tears. The silence around them was almost unbearable, bright blue eyes staring into the blue-gray ones. Then Henrik shook his head and turned again to leave.

“I love you!” Chase blurted out immediately, afraid Henrik would leave, “I love you so much it hurts and I… I can’t take it anymore. I think about you almost every single day and I know I’m just a pathetic loser, but that doesn't change the fact that all I want is to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every night.” Chase completed his monologue with ragged breath, keeping his gaze on the floor while tears ran down his face. 

Silence filled the room again, but Chase couldn't stand it for long, so he started talking again.

“I’m s-sorry, Henrik. I… I know I ruined e-everything but I can’t get rid of it. I tried but… I just love you so much,” he sobbed “and I'm probably not… not your best friend a-anymore and it’s my… my fault,” finally he raised his head and looked at Henrik. The doctor looked shocked and still didn't say a word.

“Please Hen, say something... Anything. Please.” he looked at him desperately, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

“Say it again.” Henrik suddenly spoke and moved closer to him.

“Wha...what?” came the shaky question.

“Say you love me.” Henrik reached out and wiped away his tears with his thumb. A shiver passed through Chase's body.

“I… I love you.” he said it much more quietly now, voice trembling. Bright blue eyes watched a small smile appear on Henrik's face.

“I love you too.” Henrik replied softly.

“You… you do?” the disbelief in his voice could be clearly heard.

“Yes.” a simple answer followed by Henrikd’s hands, which took his face, pulled him as close as possible and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Chase squeaked in surprise but as soon as Henrik began to pull away, he grabbed his shirt and pulled him back for another kiss.

“Please, tell me this is not a dream.” the anxious man begged between their shared breath. Neither of them seemed to want to stop any time soon.

“No, not a dream.” Henrik assured him as one of his hands moved to the man’s waist and the other to his hair, deepening the kisses. This was something they had both dreamed of for so long. It was almost surreal, but all the more beautiful. 

Eventually they broke apart, both trying to catch their breath.

“You really love me?” Chase asked, still unsure.

“Yes, I really love you and for quite some time actually.” he adjusted his glasses, which, thanks to their kissing, ended up crooked, “I was just too scared to ruin our friendship so I never said anything.” he added.

“Well, that would be both of us then.” the anxious man admitted and Henrik stifled a laugh.

“Good god, we’re idiots.” he sighed, and this time it was Chase who laughed.

“You know… at least we can be idiots together.” Chase said with hope.

“Oh, definitely. You won't get rid of me anymore, Mr. Brody.” he said, cupping Chase’s face and pecking a light kiss on the man’s lips.

Chase laughed into the kiss, “I didn't even plan to do that, Mr. Schneeplestein.”

“Good.” was his only answer, which they drowned in another of many kisses.

[luxmagnafest]

INTERVIEW: "Reflectif" Artists Reflect on Black Representation from their Upbringing

In one week, Lux Magna will have the pleasure of opening a month long art exhibit at Casa del Popolo, curated by local visual artists Kai Samuels and Joyce Joseph (a.k.a. JUICE); Reflectif is an exposition of art spanning various mediums, by 6 young Black artists coming from across the country.

Team member Mags (who is also a visual artist) spoke with Nafleri, Tyrin Kelly, Joseph Moore, Hasina Kamanzi (OTT), BlazenBlack (OTT) and Simone Heath (TO), about their respective experiences growing up with (or without) Black folk represented in the media and art that they consumed.

When was the first time you remember seeing Black folk represented in media or the arts?

Hasina: The first time I remember seeing Black people highlighted in media was when I went back to Burundi for the first time in 2014. I saw an oil painting exposition that was illustrating what life was like in Burundi pre-colonisation. I didn't realize at the time how influential it would be for me so, unfortunately, I can't recall what was the name of the artist or the name of the exposition.

Nafleri: Having grown up in Haiti, I was surrounded by Black people, so Carnival season was Black people and their joy put on a show. I knew whiteness existed but it was in light-skin Black [people] or missionaries; I wasn't fully aware how much opportunities catered to it. BUT, after arriving in Canada and being taught to be Black, around my second year, I remember TVA played films every Saturday, and during the week they would play the trailer for said movies; I remember once they played Fat Albert and all through out the week I was hype ‘cause it was movies with characters I felt I could relate to. I ended up being disappointed but, I still remember that child's hype. But in Haiti, I remember music, cinema, literature, paintings, sculptures, I wasn’t fully aware of it but I was lucky enough to experience Blackness in art.

Joseph: The first time that I remember seeing Black people represented within the media was The Proud Family. The show had a significant impact on my childhood, as it allowed for me to see various Black characters in a normalized and lighthearted setting on a regular basis.

BlazenBlack: Had to be the detective [Bulletproof] in the cartoon COPS, followed by X-Men’s Storm.

Simone: The earliest Black character I could remember is Susie Carmichael from Rugrats. Pinpointing a first time is hard to say for sure. I grew up in the late 90’s-early 2000’s with a lot of Black shows, a few having more Black-centric protagonists. I can remember watching The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Family Matters and The Cosby Show with my family.

Tyrin: I’m not sure… growing up I became really obsessed with the early jazz scene in America. It was drummers like Philly Joe Jones and Art Blakey that really inspired me to learn an instrument. K-OS is one of the first modern Black musicians that showed me you can make hip-hop and be a rock-star. I fell in love with Atlantis Hymns for Disco and really idolized that whole “B-Boy who makes indie music” persona. In terms of visual art I wasn’t really aware of Black artists that stuck to my memory until high school art class I think. I was really invested in the poetry scene in Ottawa during that time and Saul Williams is another Black artist that really influenced me.

2. Who was your favorite fictional Black character growing up?

Nafleri: Can I answer Jesus? (laughs) I remember reading (I know nada of Christian theology) that Jesus never wrote anything, his partners did, so in the writing of others, I'd see the fiction of Jesus, not that it's a bad thing, fictional characters can be inspirational but… uncles, aunties and ‘em might roast for that one. (laughs). Jokes aside though, growing up I remember Bouki and Malice, which were folk stories of Haiti and in the literary work of Odette Roy Fombrun. I was able to see Black characters that weren't asked to be super, they existed in the complexities of their life. Looking back, I'm grateful to have experienced that.

BlazenBlack: My favorite fictional Black character must have been Piccolo [DragonBall Z] if he counts. If not, War Machine [Iron Man franchise].

Hasina: Growing up, my favorite Black fictional character was Pamela (from the Tea Sisters book series) [Thea Stilton series in North America]. Technically, she's a mouse but she was also very anthropomorphic & born in Tanzania (like me!) so baby Hasina read her as Black.

Joseph: This is a hard question to answer as I can think of many favourites, but if I had to choose, it would be between Alyx Vance from the Half Life video game series or Michonne from The Walking Dead.

Tyrin: My favourite fictional Black character growing up was Radio Raheem from Do The Right Thing. Also Q from Juice. Foxy Brown was also so badass. Those three will forever be cool.

Simone: Probably Raven Baxter from That’s So Raven for a bit. I liked a lot of the outfits she would wear. She was multi-talented and funny.

3. What is your opinion on the current state of Black representation in Canadian media?

BlazenBlack: I don’t watch much Canadian TV, so I can’t speak on shows or movies, but in terms of animations, I can’t even name one off the top of my head. I'm hoping to change that.

Joseph: While I admit that I haven't been consuming as much Canadian media as I would like to as of late, I have found it harder to name many prominent or relatable Black characters within Canadian media off of the top of my head as opposed to American characters. While I appreciate Canada's willingness to represent many different cultures and viewpoints, it would be interesting to see something centered around the regular lives of Black people living in Canada on a larger platform.

Simone: Black representation in Canadian media could be a lot better. It feels as though it isn’t really there or pushed into the background as apart of Canadian diversity. Most of the Black media I consume is from the States. I don’t watch a lot of Canadian television, but from what I’ve seen I don’t recall any Black protagonists, usually side characters with little to no background. I feel like Black Canadian artists/athletes aren’t recognized until they have made something of themselves outside of the country. I’m grateful for people that reach out and organize events like this to have ourselves shown. I also have a lot to learn myself when it comes to being more active in these conversations and connecting with other Black Canadians.

Nafleri: I feel like I can't speak of Canadian media, though this stretch ocean to ocean I've only visited— I can't even say Toronto— Niagara Falls… once on a family trip. Quebec media however, having consumed a lot, hoping to fit in, I know for a fact, there is a big lack of representation. Though I stopped consuming QC media, late high school, my best friend studying in a theater institutions is closer to Quebec's media and we often discuss the lack of representation in his future field of work.

Tyrin: Um, I’m not sure it’s so black and white… if you’re looking at “credible” sources of media, yeah definitely a little convoluted. But in terms of independent media— media environments run by artists  for artists— then I think it’s thriving and it’s all so cool! Like, looking at people I follow on social media or friends and peers that are making cool shit the list is giant. Definitely media representation is positive and important to an extent, and I think in  Canadian media the effort is made, but that’s not what matters. What matters is honesty and published honesty is recognized in every format. I mean, shouts out to: Tau Lewis, Marvin Luvualu António, Moneyphone, Schwey, Elle Barbara, Tati au Miel, Neo Edo, Cole Craib, James Goddard, and all other Black artists who are doing their thing.

Hasina: There is a lot of work to be done but I'm hopeful because I see a lot of creatives doing great things both in Ottawa/Gatineau (where I live) and in Montreal.

Closing thoughts from co-curator JUICE

It's really cool how living Black is very different to other people. I always had this ideology that, because I was navigating spaces where there were a few Black children (or I was the only Black child) while growing up, meeting Black folks outside my environment meant that I could relate to them, just because they were Black. I wouldn't realize that our experiences could be different. Seeing how representation is so different but so important to each individual life, reminds me that, what ever they're doing creatively, you can do too, and you're not alone on the journey.

The first time I remember seeing Black folks was when my mother gave me a Spice Girl doll. Mel B (Melanie Brown) was the first Black doll I ever had and she had an Afro. She was the one doll I spent so much time on; I loved her so much. When I found out she was an actual person, I was shocked, and was interested in what she does, but I didn't have access to seeing what she did creatively (except on those celebrity TV talk shows when my mother would take me out to hair salons) . Later on growing up, I was into 1990's-2000's TV shows. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, My Wife and Kids, and Sister, Sister to name a few. Cartoons and anime were some other things I would watch when I would spend time with my siblings. Codename: Kids Next Door, Teen Titans and Bleach were a few of the earliest shows I would see Black characters. I would be extremely happy whenever they appeared on my screen. This only lasted during the years I moved and lived in Philadelphia. I moved back to Canada in 2008 and my spaces drastically changed. TV wasn't really the same after that.

The shows that depicted the Black characters I loved and enjoyed, weren't available in the country. Sometimes if they were, they would be 3-4 episodes behind from the American releases. At this point, I relied on the internet, or my brother’s video collections to air the shows I missed so much. Black representation was never really viewed as much as I was exposed to in the States. It became non-existent to me. The only time I would see a Black person in media or TV, is when a creative artist becomes popular, and outlets find out they're from Montreal. It was difficult to find representation growing up in this city, I always felt like we were side characters in our own adventures. People don't realize it but it does have an affect on people. It's nice to know that organizations are creating platforms for BIPOC representation, because we exist and we are not alone.

➡ RSVP ⬅

[lildevyl]

Web Of Lies

Summary:  Mysterious glitches and messages have been popping up on all monitors and TVs all over the Community Hub.  Abbie is in the Record Room trying to decode a hidden message only to be fooled by a Web of Lies.

Based on the FNAF the Musical: Web of Lies and inspiration from this post of the Community Hub by @huffletrax and everyone in the Community who reblogged and participated!  And also inspired by Domino Effect ARG.  I love Abbie’s (@ill-spink) and River’s (@egopocalypse) Marvin in this ARG!  Keep up the good work and every fiend that is a part of it!  I absolutely love this!

Guest Staring:  Abbie, @ill-spink.

Thanks again for guest staring and I hope you like this!

TW:  Mild Gore, Mention of Glitches/Soft!Anit/Canon!Anti, Strings and implied mind control.

(Record Room)

Abbie snuck into the Record Room of the Community Hub and quickly went to the computer.  There was a file that they had to decode!  A message came to them saying that this would help them in their investigation.  They weren’t a theorist but they could easily help out in shape, way, or form.  They were a writer after all, so they could see things from a different point of view.

The Community was on fire again.  It’s been a year, but something was off!  Jack wasn’t acting like himself and they were determined to find out what it was that was causing all this!  Everyone kept saying it was Anit, but Abbie had a gut feeling that it was more than just Anti, they just couldn’t put their finger on it.

(Abbie)

One year has passed since things began to change,

And the JSE Community was cursed  .  .  .

The glitches and messages were all mysterious and strange,

And still I bought it all at first.

Abbie went to the bookshelf that was near them and ran their hand over a few theory books.  They found the one that they were looking for and flipped to the theory that everyone dismissed.

(Abbie)

They denied  .  .  .

A string of mysterious disappearances that’s been implied

No matter what I’ve tried,

I’ve always been

Caught within

A web of lies  .  .  .

The computer that they were working on, came to life.  It looked as if the update that they had ran had finally finished.  There!  There was that mysterious file that someone from the Community was talking about!  Finally!  They were going to get some answers to what was going on!

(Abbie)

A strange hidden file fell into my lap  .  .  .

I need to uncover the truth!

Typing frantically away at the computer, Abbie was determined to figure out what has been going on.  Jack had been acting out of character.  Marvin disappeared and no body has seen him.  Glitches and mysterious messages all over Tumblr and YouTube videos.  Finally, finally, someone had managed to find out what has been happening.

(Abbie)

Access denied?

Yes, override.

Oh no, did I just goof?

(Ego Corp)

The Canon Egos sat around a table in Ego Corp conducting a meeting outside of the Community’s ears.  None of them want anyone to over hear what they’re talking about.  No need to cause the Community to panic.

(Chase)

Jack has not been acting like himself

Ever since he’s gotten that strange call

(Jackie)

He’s acting as if 

He’s complete and utter doll

(Henrik)

Now us three

Need your help to set Our Creator free.

(Jackie)

We’ll find our Creator.

And fight the ebb

Of the web of lies  .  .  .

“JJ, keep an eye out.  I think somethings not right with the other Egos,” Chase said to JJ.

I’m on it.  JJ signed and headed out with the others.  The Egos head out, never knowing that someone was watching them.

(The Community Hub)

JJ headed out with the other Egos and had a blow horn with him to sound the alarm if something were to happen.  Unfortunately, JJ never had the chance to use it.  He was ambushed by the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos!  He couldn’t sound the alarm to warn the others!

(Jackie)

That’s it! Right there!  Jack’s recording room.

And there’s not a soul in sight  .  .  .

Nobody saw the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos coming up behind them and from the shadows.  Nor did anybody saw that JJ was with them, with midnight blue strings attached to his wrists and a blank look in his eyes.  Jackie tried the door, but it was locked.  He began to pick the lock and that was when the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos attacked!

Soft!Anti was no match for them and he went pretty bad.  All of them decided to put strings on him and turn him into a puppet.  Perfect for their master to use him to help gain even more puppets.  Jackie was doing his best to hold off as many of the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos as possible.  “Henrik!  Quick!  We have to warn the others!”

Henrik quickly bolted down the hall, just as Jackie succumb to the strings and joined the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos as a puppet.

(Recorder Room)

(Abbie)

Abort!  Escape!  Control, alt, delete!  Stop trying to install!

Forty million kilobytes!

Something’s wrong  .  .  .

This AI’s gotten far too strong  .  .  .

Smoke started to pour out of the computer and the file began to corrupt every data there was.  And glitched in and out on the screen until it went completely black.  Then someone started to climb out of the computer.  No, out of an alter dimension portal.

(Abbie)

You’ve used me all along

To set you free.

Now I see

Your web of lies  .  .  .

“Ah, thank you, Abbie,” the mysterious man greeted.

Abbie was shaking in their shoes.  This man, looked and sounded like Marvin the Magnificent but something was off.  This - this wasn’t Marvin.  Not their Marvin.  Not the Community’s beloved magician.

“What are you?”  Abbie asked terrified and tried to find something - anything to defend themselves with.

“I’m a hidden file.  Or am I?  I guess none of us are quite what we seem.”  Marvin began to approach Abbie and Abbie doing the smart thing, started backing up.  They knew this room better than anyone else.  “Take you for example.  A hard working writer, whom they and their partner are actually undercover puppets for AntiSepticeye.  Oh, come on?  You think you and your partner could really hide the fact that you two aren’t his most loyal puppets?”

“Get away from me!”  Abbie demanded backed up in a corner.  They began looking around and found large pocket knife and held in their hands.

“Oh, hey.”  Marvin said putting his hands up in faux surround.  “You freed me. You deserve award.”  The Non-Canon Egos came in and blocked Abbie in, and Marvin took out midnight blue strings to use on Abbie to make them be his puppet instead.

Abbie with the pocket knife started to go to town with the Non-Canon Egos.  Normally, they wouldn’t do this, normally they wouldn’t be so violent.  But this was anything but normal.  Once they found an opening, Abbie took off like a bat out of hell!  Bursting through the doors, they ran down the hall to the Community Hub.  They had to warn everyone.  They had to warn the Community that this Marvin, wasn’t their Marvin.  He was Corrupted!

(Marvin)

The doors are locked. This Community is mine!

I’m in your reality!

So run and hide!  Cause here’s the bottom line:

You’re all trapped in here with me!

Marvin and the Non-Canon Egos went to the Ego Corp.  They had some Canon Egos they needed to deal with.

(Marvin)

Go on! Shout,

No one will ever let you out!

And lest there’s any doubt

Marvin and the Non-Canon Egos found the room where the Canon Egos were and began to break down the metal door.  Robbie the Zombie braced himself against the door trying to give, the others some time.

(Marvin)

All hope has died,

Trapped inside

My web of lies!

The door crashed down on Robbie the Zombie and Marvin just stepped on the door crushing Robbie.  The other Egos were terrified of this Marvin.  Never have they seen such power except from Anti and Dark.

Canon!Anti glitch and surged with such rage.  How dare someone come into the Community Hub where his puppets were and had the nerve to use them against him!  Canon!Anti charged right at the intruder, only for Marvin to stop him with his magic.

“What is this?  It’s cute.”  Marvin stated deadpan.  Then with a wave of his hand sent Canon!Anti flying backwards to the computer.  Canon!Anti hit the computer, glitching uncontrollably and was absorbed into the computer.  Into the web of the JSE Community where he could communicate from there.

“Ah, the great protagonist Chase Brody and the famous Canon Egos.”  Marvin said with glee.

“Are you going to kill us?”  Chase whimpered.

“No,” Marvin stated pulling out the midnight blue strings.  “I got something better planned.”

====================

Tagging:  @septic-dr-schneep, @egopocalypse, @epicfangirl01, @ill-spink, @isa-ghost, @10th-no-name-person, @weirdmixofweirdness, @dezzydynamite, @thevampireauthoress, @the-scribe-watches, @kisstheashes, @kangaroo-roux@shadowsinyoursoul, @julywinters, @jackjames-exe, @corruptedmetadata, @chaoticcrimsonrose, @a-humble-narcissus, @littlepinkchan, @fear-is-nameless, @huffletrax, @d-structive, @dolphintreasureart, @run-stray-wolf, @thefirsttobreak, @miishae-archived, @nightfuryobsessed, @starlightstarfight

[pandoraborn]

COPIED AND PASTED from my rp blog ABOUT MARVIN

TATTOOS

Marvin doesn’t have Jack’s tattoos. He never wanted them, so he chose not to have them branded on his arms like some others did. Ultimately, he’s not Jack, and never was. Marvin is his own person and wants to show that off to everyone; to the fans, to the other Septics, and even strangers on the street. Marvin instead has tattoos that relate to the fact that he’s a magician, first and foremost. On his right arm is a full-length sleeve. This is the one he chose to represent what the fans saw in him: the slight-of-hand, the pocket watch, the card tricks. All simple magic that he shows off for fun, for videos, and even when he’s bored. It’s what got him named in his debut video.

On his left arm, left fore-arm, Marvin wears a symbol of his deity of choice, Cernunnos. This particular tattoo holds some magical energies inside it, a little extra boost of magicka to keep him going when he’s exhausted other energies. Both tattoos are done in black ink, with only added hints of color in his sleeve. It’s just enough color to make it pop. The deity is strictly done with solid black lines, and the magic added to it gives it the tiniest shimmer, seen in direct sunlight.

On his forehead, is a small blue diamond. It’s not large, and it’s supposed to resemble a jewel one might wear. This is nothing more than a personal symbol to the world that Marvin is powerful, and he’s more than just a stage magician, he’s got real magic that he rarely shows off.

These tattoos might not seem much to the average person, but to Marvin and the other Septics, it means he is absolutely not one to be messed with.

DEITY

Marvin worships Cernunnos, the Celtic God of life, animals, wealth, underworld. This ties into his celtic pagan roots, as Marvin probably has a great respect for nature all around. It is not above his nature to keep a small garden of plants and herbs for alchemy, healing use, and witchcraft. But it’s also why Marvin doesn’t personally have any pets: he has a great respect for animals as a whole.  Animals are to be left alone, not toyed with or hunted for sport. Marvin probably also takes his worship up a notch by refraining from animal products, excepting the occasional indulgence.

Marvin doesn’t talk about his worship much, because he’s not sure anyone cares, but he performs a small, daily ritual in order to receive blessings. He does this in private, in his bedroom, long before anyone else wakes up for the day. He’s able to meditate and reflect on why he’s seeking this deity out, and reflecting upon how it’ll help him in his magic use. It’s an arrangement that makes him happy, and he sees no reason to change things up.

To add: Cernunnos was the deity his parents devoted their coven around. The deity is Gaul Celtic, rather than Irish Celtic (Gaul being tribes that aren’t in Ireland). Marvin’s parents would definitely have this in mind, tracing their bloodline back to ancient Belgian tribes. Naturally, Marvin would pick this tradition up as well, after also doing his research on his bloodline and ancestors.

KNOWLEDGE

I’ve said before in threads and various headcanons that Marvin has a thirst for more knowledge. I never specified what kind of knowledge, just that he’s always studying. What he reads into a lot, and even tries to apply it to daily life is the study and practice of Hermeticism. This is a religious and philosophical practice attributed to the writings of Hermes Trismegistus. This practice had people back in the middle ages turning to superstition and magic, because of the idea of controlling nature. Marvin doesn’t have access to any of these writings now, but he is looking into some way to find and translate them, more out of a curiosity for himself. He has also looked into the history and lore of Nigromancy, or the study of black magic. Of course Marvin is going to be tempted and lured by powerful arts, but he has his reasons for staying firmly neutral.

There is so much knowledge that Marvin is constantly seeking out. He has a desire to learn everything he can about his own abilities, when magic came to be, how it works, and how to use it. There’s an entire eternity of things to read about, and he feels like his time is running out.

Marvin would also not be fluent in very many languages. He’s familiar with Latin, and he knows Irish almost fluently. Marvin probably would have also studied German, French, and Dutch, even Arabic. He’s not fluent in many of those languages, though he does know enough to be able to pick up on pieces here and there. Marvin tends to use a translator for what he doesn’t understand to fill in the blanks.

He’s very familiar with, and owns a copy of Picatrix, an Arabic book written somewhere in the 11th century. It’s a 400 page document that mostly consists of magic and astrology, so it would have a very special place on Marvin’s bookshelf.

BACKSTORY

Marvin isn’t an anomaly. He doesn’t have magic just because. He can trace his family roots back to the 16th century, having roots in pagan worship and general practice. He doesn’t have much knowledge about his history, but he does know he comes from a long line of powerful magic users. His own parents were part of a coven, and due to an unpreventable tragedy during a ritual gone wrong, Marvin’s parents were trapped in a void, unable to come back or re-open the portal, and anyone else who could potentially help died. Marvin was only two years old when this happened, and ever since then, he’d been raised by his grandmother. She encouraged him to keep learning and keep practicing until he became stronger.

His life’s goal is to become as powerful as he possibly could, in order to open that very portal that holds his parents trapped, and to free them. He’s taken years to get to where he is now, and it’s going to take some time longer yet.

Marvin is also aware that one former coven member is still alive, still around, and probably has a lot of answers. Marvin wants to find him and get those answers, but he doesn’t know where to start looking. It hasn’t stopped him from trying anyway.

WHAT HE KNOWS NOW

Marvin is only dimly aware of the multiverse. He doesn’t have enough knowledge on it to make good use out of it, but he knows enough to know it exists, and that there are multiple realities. He’s run into the same problem: he can’t open the door to other timelines on his own, he’d need some sort of help. He could reach out beyond the veil and seek out another magic user if he really wanted, but Marvin’s got too much pride and is far too stubborn to admit defeat.

He’s also aware that he’s in a sideways universe to our reality. He’s aware he’s a character behind the screen, he’s aware that to us, he’s only an ego. But in his reality, Marvin is very real and very powerful. His powers allow him to see just enough to know he’s not the only one, but not enough to enter. Thus, he studies and practices, and works hard so he can get to that point. The copius amount of studying his own history helps him out a great deal. Without the knowledge of the middle ages and what kickstarted magic, Marvin wouldn’t be as far as he is now.

WHAT HE CALLS HIMSELF

He’s not a mage. He’s not a wizard. He’s not a warlock. He could arguably call himself a sorcerer, but Marvin feels that doesn’t fit either. He’s incredibly powerful, but not powerful enough, so he studies and educates himself. He practices magic religiously, several hours a day. When he’s not studying, he’s using magic in his every day career, as a stage magician. It’s only small shows put on at least once a week for cityfolk, and he tours around for more money. He owns his own theater, he answers to a manager. He doesn’t at all find it degrading; it’s something to do in between his own quest to become more powerful.

Thus, marvin calls himself a scholar. The education and history is important to him in order for him to understand the whys and hows, and it’s equally as important as the actual usage of magic. No other label or title suits him, and scholar fits quite nicely.

WHAT THIS MEANS FOR THE FUTURE

This doesn’t change his overall personality. Marvin is still an arrogant asshole who places himself first. He’s still distrustful of most people and would stop at nothing to protect the other Septics. He still has powerful enchantments on their home, designed to keep intruders and even lesser supernatural creatures out. He makes use of his magic to help people when they need it, be it healing an injury, a spell to help them rest, or even something to soften their mood if they need to be calmed.

There are going to be more mentions and subtle references to his new arc and lore. Marvin is going to have more knowledge about the veil keeping the timelines separate, he’ll make references to other ‘septics’ and even quite possible reference the multiverse in general. Marvin is going to be closed off when it comes to actually talking about his family history, because that’s a pain and anguish he’s not ready to share yet.

I might make changes to what powers and magic he currently has, but I’m not going to list everything, just the basics. ‘Everything’ would be a list longer than this post and I’m not really willing to spend that much time and effort into that particular bit of knowledge. We’ll just say Marvin knows a lot of spells, and leave it at that.

Anyway, this post got super long, so I’m going to leave it off here. If I think of anything else, I’ll make a new post to continue this one. Thanks for reading!

[wishthefish916]

Chase Is So Goddamn Lucky

Ok, not really. He’s been through hell and back, but what I mean is, Chase tried to shoot himself, in the head, and lived to tell the tale. This theory will establish how and why that was, so if you’re sensitive to suicide and the analysis of, maybe be careful about proceeding.

How did Chase survive a bullet to the head? Well the simple answer is that he missed. Going back to the frame just before he pulled the trigger in his Power Hour, you can see exactly how the gun was positioned, the angle his gun was at, approximately how high up against his head it was, as well as how far forward his hand was, as he pulled the trigger. 

As he was putting the gun to his head, it bumped towards the front of the brim of his hat, which tells me it must’ve been lined up more with his hair floof than with his actual temples. 

Also, look how steep an angle that gun is at. In premeditated suicide with a handgun, the weapon is commonly parallel to the floor, but here, its closer to 20° from X, placing the trajectory in the little nook where hat and head meet.

So, judging by both the steep angle of the gun and the distance he holds the gun in front of him, if we were to follow the path that the bullet would have taken, we’ll see that it wouldn’t pass through his head at all. The worst the bullet would do is whiz through his hair and deafen him temporarily. 

Great Wish, but what does this have to do with anything? Well, it brings into question his motive for trying to kill himself. Yes, Stacy just left him and took the kids, and yes his work was struggling. But would that be enough? I mean, his last words before pulling the trigger were “Stacy I love you, please don’t go”, which, might I add, were said with a strange smile on his face.

You don’t say something like that and then immediately try to kill yourself. He didn’t even take the time to pause before pulling the trigger, which you’ll see in just basically every suicide attempt. It’s the brain’s last dose of self preservation, an unstoppable reflex to keep you from doing what you’re about to do because it’s ultimate job is to keep you alive. Because of this, I find it hard to believe this was premeditated, which you’d expect in any suicide attempts. Hell, when doctors screen for depression they'll ask both is you’re feeling suicidal and also if you have a plan because they usually go hand in hand. Chase is very depressed, that much is clear from TIE. But he wasn’t always. In fact, I’m willing to go so far as to say that Chase did not have depression before he tried to kill himself.

That’s a bold statement, I know. After all, we’ve seen him actively being depressed, so much so that it’s his most well known character trait. Why would he try to kill himself if he didn’t want to die? I’d better have some evidence to back this up, right? Lucky you, that’s what I do best.

Take a look at all the other Ego’s first videos before this point. It always starts off with the bright and shiny new ego, trying hard to show off their individual skill set, and over the course of the video their original character starts to chip away until their left with a broken version of themselves. Jackieboy Man coming in as the courageous hero and giving into cowardice at the end. Marvin the Magnificent, a magician who wants to show off his skills and ends up giving up on his entire career by the credits. Henrik the wise doctor who over time accidentally and also intentionally kills his patients and forgets everything he once knew about human nature. Jack, filming normal videos and over time, growing sick and paranoid before Anti makes him kill himself in a pumpkin carving video. Then look at Chase. This happy go lucky dude who makes jokes in his videos to make others smile, who by the end has turned a gun on himself. There’s this recurring theme of character decay that I’m seeing, and I think we all know where it’s coming from. Anti.

Don’t buy it yet? Look to the thumbnails. Which thumbnail? All of them. Egos, gameplay, vlogs, you name it. As we established back during Mayhem2k18, leading up to and after any Anti video, tracing all the way back to his beginnings, there’s a huge concentration of lens flares in video thumbnails, followed by a significant drop off in intermittent periods(more on that in another theory). This also rings true following the different Ego’s videos, Chase’s included, which tells us that Anti must be present in those videos as well.

And of course, the video that even brought this question to my mind in the first place, Dude Simulator. I’m really surprised I haven’t heard anything about it before, all things considered. Take a look at the thumbnail.

Anti, staring directly at us with a smile, RGB lens flares everywhere, holding a gun. Why is this relevant, you ask? It otherwise wouldn’t be, just another cryptic Anti clue in the sea of pre-existing cryptic Anti clues, if it weren't for it’s upload date. 

April 11, 2017, exactly three hours after Chase’s Power Hour. You ask me, that sounds a hell of a lot like Anti sending a message. One we all apparently missed. 

And the final nail in the coffin for me, what sold me absolutely beyond a doubt that Chase almost shooting himself was Anti’s fault, can be seen in the moments just as he pulls the trigger.

Looks pretty average, right? Take a closer look.

A small shadow of green, right next to Chase’s neck, the exact moment he pulls the trigger, and only the moment he pulls the trigger.

Way I see it, Chase did not pull a gun on himself because he wanted to die. I think that Chase was an otherwise content dude before he came onto the channel. I believe that over the course of his Power Hour, as Chase’s life started to crumble around him, Anti got more and more into his head until eventually the virus was strong enough to make him cause harm to others(Chad and that drive-by scene), and almost to himself, but in a moment of quick thinking, Chase pulled the trigger before the gun was lined up enough to do any real harm. That’s why there wasn’t a pause before he pulled the trigger, and that’s why Chase was able to get right back up after “shooting himself”. 

Chase is very lucky. He could have died, he should have died. He was under Anti’s control, where he was forced to try to shoot himself, and he came out physically unscathed. The man must’ve had one hell of a four leaf clover in his pocket; almost nobody has that much pure Irish luck on their side. For everything else that followed, well. Everybody’s luck runs out eventually.

[bheithann]

MARVIN HEADCANON ( plus some revamping/retcons ) (edit: more information has been added.)

TATTOOS

Marvin doesn’t have Jack’s tattoos. He never wanted them, so he chose not to have them branded on his arms like some others did. Ultimately, he’s not Jack, and never was. Marvin is his own person and wants to show that off to everyone; to the fans, to the other Septics, and even strangers on the street. Marvin instead has tattoos that relate to the fact that he’s a magician, first and foremost. On his right arm is a full-length sleeve.  This is the one he chose to represent what the fans saw in him: the slight-of-hand, the pocket watch, the card tricks. All simple magic that he shows off for fun, for videos, and even when he’s bored. It’s what got him named in his debut video. 

On his left arm, left fore-arm, Marvin wears a symbol of his deity of choice, Cernunnos. This particular tattoo holds some magical energies inside it, a little extra boost of magicka to keep him going when he’s exhausted other energies. Both tattoos are done in black ink, with only added hints of color in his sleeve. It’s just enough color to make it pop. The deity is strictly done with solid black lines, and the magic added to it gives it the tiniest shimmer, seen in direct sunlight.

On his forehead, is a small blue diamond. It’s not large, and it’s supposed to resemble a jewel one might wear. This is nothing more than a personal symbol to the world that Marvin is powerful, and he’s more than just a stage magician, he’s got real magic that he rarely shows off.

These tattoos might not seem much to the average person, but to Marvin and the other Septics, it means he is absolutely not one to be messed with.

DEITY

Marvin worships Cernunnos, the Celtic God of life, animals, wealth, underworld. This ties into his celtic pagan roots, as Marvin probably has a great respect for nature all around. It is not above his nature to keep a small garden of plants and herbs for alchemy, healing use, and witchcraft. But it’s also why Marvin doesn’t personally have any pets: he has a great respect for animals as a whole.  Animals are to be left alone, not toyed with or hunted for sport. Marvin probably also takes his worship up a notch by refraining from animal products, excepting the occasional indulgence.

Marvin doesn’t talk about his worship much, because he’s not sure anyone cares, but he performs a small, daily ritual in order to receive blessings. He does this in private, in his bedroom, long before anyone else wakes up for the day. He’s able to meditate and reflect on why he’s seeking this deity out, and reflecting upon how it’ll help him in his magic use. It’s an arrangement that makes him happy, and he sees no reason to change things up.

To add: Cernunnos was the deity his parents devoted their coven around. The deity is Gaul Celtic, rather than Irish Celtic (Gaul being tribes that aren’t in Ireland). Marvin’s parents would definitely have this in mind, tracing their bloodline back to ancient Belgian tribes. Naturally, Marvin would pick this tradition up as well, after also doing his research on his bloodline and ancestors.

KNOWLEDGE

I’ve said before in threads and various headcanons that Marvin has a thirst for more knowledge. I never specified what kind of knowledge, just that he’s always studying. What he reads into a lot, and even tries to apply it to daily life is the study and practice of Hermeticism. This is a religious and philosophical practice attributed to the writings of Hermes Trismegistus. This practice had people back in the middle ages turning to superstition and magic, because of the idea of controlling nature. Marvin doesn’t have access to any of these writings now, but he is looking into some way to find and translate them, more out of a curiosity for himself. He has also looked into the history and lore of Nigromancy, or the study of black magic. Of course Marvin is going to be tempted and lured by powerful arts, but he has his reasons for staying firmly neutral.

There is so much knowledge that Marvin is constantly seeking out. He has a desire to learn everything he can about his own abilities, when magic came to be, how it works, and how to use it. There’s an entire eternity of things to read about, and he feels like his time is running out.

Marvin would also not be fluent in very many languages. He’s familiar with Latin, and he knows Irish almost fluently. Marvin probably would have also studied German, French, and Dutch, even Arabic. He’s not fluent in many of those languages, though he does know enough to be able to pick up on pieces here and there. Marvin tends to use a translator for what he doesn’t understand to fill in the blanks.

He’s very familiar with, and owns a copy of Picatrix, an Arabic book written somewhere in the 11th century. It’s a 400 page document that mostly consists of magic and astrology, so it would have a very special place on Marvin’s bookshelf.

BACKSTORY

Marvin isn’t an anomaly. He doesn’t have magic, just because. He can trace his family roots back to the 16th century, having roots in pagan worship and general practice. He doesn’t have much knowledge about that, but he does know he comes from a long line of powerful magic users. His own parents were part of a coven, and due to an unpreventable tragedy during a ritual gone wrong, Marvin’s parents were trapped in a void, unable to come back or re-open the portal, and anyone else who could potentially help died. Marvin was only two years old when this happened, and ever since then, he’d been raised by his grandmother. She encouraged him to keep learning and keep practicing until he became stronger. 

His life’s goal is to become as powerful as he possibly could, in order to open that very portal that holds his parents trapped, and to free them. He’s taken years to get to where he is now, and it’s going to take some time longer yet.

Marvin is also aware that one former coven member is still alive, still around, and probably has a lot of answers. Marvin wants to find him and get those answers, but he doesn’t know where to start looking. It hasn’t stopped him from trying anyway. 

WHAT HE KNOWS NOW

Marvin is only dimly aware of the multiverse. He doesn’t have enough knowledge on it to make good use out of it, but he knows enough to know it exists, and that there are multiple realities. He’s run into the same problem: he can’t open the door to other timelines on his own, he’d need some sort of help. He could reach out beyond the veil and seek out another magic user if he really wanted, but Marvin’s got too much pride and is far too stubborn to admit defeat.

He’s also aware that he’s in a sideways universe to our reality. He’s aware he’s a character behind the screen, he’s aware that to us, he’s only an ego. But in his reality, Marvin is very real and very powerful. His powers allow him to see just enough to know he’s not the only one, but not enough to enter. Thus, he studies and practices, and works hard so he can get to that point. The copius amount of studying his own history helps him out a great deal. Without the knowledge of the middle ages and what kickstarted magic, Marvin wouldn’t be as far as he is now.

WHAT HE CALLS HIMSELF

He’s not a mage. He’s not a wizard. He’s not a warlock. He could arguably call himself a sorcerer, but Marvin feels that doesn’t fit either. He’s incredibly powerful, but not powerful enough, so he studies and educates himself. He practices magic religiously, several hours a day. When he’s not studying, he’s using magic in his every day career, as a stage magician. It’s only small shows put on at least once a week for cityfolk, and he tours around for more money. He owns his own theater, he answers to a manager. He doesn’t at all find it degrading; it’s something to do in between his own quest to become more powerful. 

Thus, marvin calls himself a scholar. The education and history is important to him in order for him to understand the whys and hows, and it’s equally as important as the actual usage of magic. No other label or title suits him, and scholar fits quite nicely.

WHAT THIS MEANS FOR THE FUTURE

This doesn’t change his overall personality. Marvin is still an arrogant asshole who places himself first. He’s still distrustful of most people and would stop at nothing to protect the other Septics. He still has powerful enchantments on their home, designed to keep intruders and even lesser supernatural creatures out. He makes use of his magic to help people when they need it, be it healing an injury, a spell to help them rest, or even something to soften their mood if they need to be calmed.

There are going to be more mentions and subtle references to his new arc and lore.. Marvin is going to have more knowledge about the veil keeping the timelines separate, he’ll make references to other ‘septics’ and even quite possible reference the multiverse in general. Marvin is going to be closed off when it comes to actually talking about his family history, because that’s a pain and anguish he’s not ready to share yet.

I might make changes to what powers and magic he currently has, but I’m not going to list everything, just the basics. ‘Everything’ would be a list longer than this post and I’m not really willing to spend that much time and effort into that particular bit of knowledge. We’ll just say Marvin knows a lot of spells, and leave it at that.

Anyway, this post got super long, so I’m going to leave it off here. If I think of anything else, I’ll make a new post to continue this one. Thanks for reading!

[darkpaladinchris]

Of PMA and Pancakes, Ch. 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters. All rights belong to our lord and master Sean William “Jacksepticeye” McLoughlin. 

Summary: Anti is used to having it easy. Outside of doing videos for Jack, he has no life. But when an accident happens while everyone is away, how will Anti react to having a huge responsibility shoved on his shoulders? Will he crack under the pressure? Or will he grow closer to one of the only beings in the universe he can bring himself to harm? Read to find out. This is my first fanfiction. Let me know what you think. No flames please.

Normal speech

Anti’s thoughts

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anti woke up this morning looking forward to the next couple of days and began going through his morning routine of push-ups, VR knife target practice, showering, and cleaning and checking his neck scar.

I’m glad this thing finally healed, but I’m almost going to miss it. With all the time I spent in Schneeps med lab and Marvin’s library trying to get it to heal the three of us really bonded, compared to when I first showed up and Sean accidentally stabbed Gerald the pumpkin in the head. Poor guy thought he was going crazy. Not to mention the others looked like they  wanted to immediately murder me.

Leaving the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist, Anti went to his dresser pulling out an outfit for the day deciding on wearing his usual black pants with the first, and only, Christmas gift he had ever received which just so happened to be an Overwatch shirt with the character Reaper on it that was given to him by Sean. His outfit decided, Anti proceeded to get dress and set about making breakfast for himself, deciding on pancakes while also thinking on what to do with his time the next couple of days.

With Sean in L.A. and no filming for any of the egos planned, the boys had all decided to follow Sean’s lead and take some time for their own lives. Schneep had gone to attend a medical conference in Australia and wouldn’t be back until next week. Jackie and Marvin were in London for the weekend, touring the city, visiting Signe, and attending a showing of Wicked at the Royal Albert Hall and weren’t set to return home until Sunday. Jameson had gone to Ireland with a local animal organization to help at a fundraiser for the local dog shelter as well as oversee the opening of the second site of his new antique store and didn’t know when he would return.The whole process had thankfully been made easier by the fact that Marvin and Schneep had finally found a way to allow Jameson to physically speak. 

Sean had obviously been on tour for a while and was currently finishing up his much needed vacation in L.A. The YouTube creator had become so overworked and mentally unstable in the weeks before the start of summer that even Anti himself was encouraging Sean to take some time to himself and to go visit Mark, Ethan, and the rest of his friends in L.A. if only to reduce everyone’s stress levels, especially Chase’s.         

I keep telling Sean he needs to take better care of himself. Then again maybe pranking him with multiple nightmares of walking in on Jackie and Marvin defying gravity together was a little to much.

Having thought of Chase Anti’s thoughts turned toward the bro average star and all he had gone through over the past few months. The poor man had it almost as hard as Sean. Chase had gotten a call from Angus, Stacey’s new husband who also happened to be a survival trainer in the American armed forces. This was no surprise to anyone since when Angus had first called, he explained that even though it seemed Stacey wanted to keep Chase as far away from their kids as possible, Angus felt Chase had a right to know how they were doing and had started calling Chase around the start of first segment of Sean’s tour. Angus would call periodically since then to inform Chase of what they had been up too, sometimes even sending him pictures or videos of the kids which everyone could tell Angus had been careful to ensure Stacey wasn’t in any of them. It had even been on the second or third call that Chase had learned that a couple months after Angus met Stacey she had birthed a third child, a son named Trey. It didn’t take long for the men to put two and two together and figure out whose son Trey was. According to Angus, at 19 and attending college Trey was “exactly like his father”.

Sadly the most recent call two months ago hadn’t gone so well. According to Angus had called two nights before Sean left for L.A. and informed Chase with some bad news. Apparently one of the girls hadn’t been feeling so well and asked to go to the doctors. What Angus told Chase next was so shocking that he would have fallen down the stairs he was traversing had Sean not caught him. Chase later explained to everyone that Stacey had been diagnosed with leukemia. Thankfully they had caught it early on though and thus treatment had really good chances of succeeding according to the doctor. Sean had immediately made last minute arrangements for Chase to come and stay with him while in L.A. so that he could be close to his family whilst Stacey went through treatment.

Anti gave a small chuckle at this thought.

Even after all that she put him through, he still cares for her.

Since then Chase had checked in periodically with the others to inform them of what was going on. He told everyone that all the time he spent in L.A. finally forced him and Stacey to work out their problems with some help from Angus. Though things would never be what they once were between the two, they had both agreed upon staying good friends and keeping in contact with each other more mainly for the benefit of the kids. During this time, Angus had also taken Chase to the college in California where Trey was currently attending school over the summer to become a forensic scientist for law enforcement. Though a little unsure at first, Trey finally opened up to Chase after a couple of hours of them talking, eventually breaking down in his father’s embrace from emotional stress of worrying about Stacey’s condition and his sisters.

I swear  Chase can make anyone break down in his arms crying. Heck, he’s even had me bawling into his shoulder a few times back when my neck was still freshly sliced, not to mention when Schneep and Robbie made me believe that I actually killed Sean when we filmed the Kill JSE video. Anti smirked a little at this thought while flipping a few of the pancakes as his thoughts returned to the recent developments Chase had told them all about.

Over the weeks Chase told everyone how he had spent more time with Trey, being the father to the boy he always wanted to be ever since he learned of the kid’s existence, and spending more time with his daughters. At the insistence of Stacey and Angus, after having told both father and step-father to do as much as they could to keep the kids from worrying about her, Chase took Trey and the girls to the beach for Fourth of July where Chase learned just how much like him Trey was. The boy was almost Chases equal when it came to being a daredevil, even showing his knack for surfing by doing multiple backflips on his board while riding a few waves. It was also that day that Stacey told Chase over video chat who one of their children’s role models was besides Chase himself. A few weekends later around the start of August, Stacey was given a clean bill of health to which the whole family went out to dinner to celebrate both that and Trey’s birthday. Unbeknownst to Stacey and the kids, Chase and Angus had made a call earlier that day, and when they got to the restaurant to the girls excitement and Trey’s bewilderment, they found waiting outside to meet them none other than Sean who Chase introduced as his friend and business partner. Later in the evening Sean, Angus, and Stacey surprised both Trey and Chase. Sean had apparently worked some magic and got the pair two VIP All Access Passes to PAX West in a couple of weeks. Chase’s latest call to Sean and the egos a couple days ago had him describing all of the fun Trey and him had at PAX. In addition to that Angus and Stacey joined in with Chase in telling Sean and the egos that at the end of the year Stacey and Angus were going to be moving to Brighton due to Stacey’s job. Due to Angus’s work with the armed forces, he would be allowed more leave to spend time with his family and take care of the kids, but would still be gone months at a time. As a result Angus and Stacey had both started working on getting part custody of the children back to Chase so that they could have some one they trust watching the kids while they were away. This would prove to be difficult however since not only had Stacey been on a rampage when she claimed full custody the first time and wanted to make it next to impossible for Chase to fight the court order, but they were all worried that Chase’s recent past as an alcoholic would complicate matters even more. When they mentioned this Anti merely snapped his fingers announcing, to everyone’s surprise, that any records of Chase that would complicate the matter had just been deleted from all global databases. Knowing the general scope of Anti’s powers, Sean and Chase told everyone to just drop the matter before either anyone could ask any questions.

I hope everything goes well with their case, Chase really deserves this win. Anti then poured himself a glass of orange juice, picked up his plate of pancakes that he had just doused with syrup and proceeded to the living room where a large 48 inch 4k plasma screen television, which somehow was a gift from a group of super fans at one of Sean’s recent shows, awaited him.  Just as he was about to sit on the sofa, Anti paused for a second before setting his food on the table in front of the sofa and proceeding out of the living room down the hallway.

“Know what, I don’t feel like being alone today,” Anti spoke aloud to himself as he proceeded towards the elevator that led to Schneepelstein’s lab and medical bay where, unbeknownst to Anti, a certain someone was in need of a little company and PMA.

[wolfox76]

Lost and Found (Part 4)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Schneep’s mobile turned on and started buzzing quietly.  The doctor took a look at the screen. When he noticed Jackieboy’s photo he put the phone back with the screen turned towards the table. The egos will hate him when they find out Schneep killed their creator. Well, he didn’t exactly kill him, but he let the violent demon into Jack’s body which is much worse than death. He hoped Sean was still there, resisting and fighting against the dark ego’s power. He looked back at his mobile phone. He could see the screen was still softly illuminating the table underneath. The phone call had to be urgent, Jackieboy was pretty determined even Schneep told the other egos not to interrupt him. Jack promised him a vacation. Before everything went wrong. At least he thought so. Jack didn’t exactly tell him the whole plan and Schneep kinda went with it.

The doctor sighed. He should have asked. He shouldn’t have let Jack do this. It was all his fault. He was so tired. And drunk. He found Jack Daniels. Sean wouldn’t mind, right? Henrik turned another glass upside down. And another one because no one here could tell him to stop. He couldn’t fall asleep. Not with the violent demon in the same room. Schneep looked at the sleeping ego. Anti was glitching more than usual, probably because of a nightmare. Schneep was having nightmares too. Nightmares where the headphones cable was wrapped around his neck like a snake. He touched his neck again to make sure there is no wound. Not anymore. He reached for the glass. It was empty but the bottle was too far away. Schneep licked the edge of the glass and put it back on the table, right next to the mobile. It was still buzzing. The sound hurt his ears. “Shut up,” Schneep growled. They will hate him when they find out. Jack hates him if he is still alive. They hate him, they hate him, they hate him, they hate him…. “Go to zhe hell!” Schneep yelled, grabbed the phone and threw it against the floor. The mobile hit the ground and broke into multiple pieces. The room fell into complete silence. “Everything okay, doc?” Anti tilted his head, still safely hidden among bed sheets and pillows. Schneep didn’t know if Anti genuinely meant it, he didn’t trust the demon. Even Anti wasn’t exactly demon anymore. At least he thought so. “Ja. Everyzhing’s good.” “Don’t lie to me, Henrik. People lie to me all the time. Jack lies to all the time...” Anti didn’t have time to finish his sentence, he was interrupted by coughing. He was coughing so hard he couldn’t even catch his breath. “D-Doc...” Panic was obvious in his voice, and when Schneep saw the scene, he began to slightly panic too. There was so much blood. And it was coming from Anti’s neck. “Doc...” Schneep jumped out of the seat and rushed towards the demon. Anti was shaking, he was trying to hold his neck but the blood was pouring out of it anyway. His eyes were fixed on Henrik, he was looking at him with despair. Schneep lied Anti down and grabbed the bottle of pills from Jack’s bedside table. “Good. Everyzhing’s good,” he kept whispering while trying to get Anti to swallow some of the medicine. He wasn’t sure if it was going to help. Sean provided the formula, Schneeplestein made it. So it was a kind of a surprise when the bleeding stopped and Anti could breathe again. “Go back to sleep,” Schneep whispered. Anti simply nodded. He was exhausted but also terrified. He fell asleep in the doctor’s arms. He seemed to be so… human. If they can’t fight him, they can change him at least. ** “We need a doctor for Robbie.” “Yea, but Shneep is god-knows-where!” “We can call doctor Iplier...” “Then the Ipliers will ask where Schneeplestein and Anti are!” The room fell into silence. Everyone’s eyes were locked on Jackieboy. He had to decide between dealing with Robbie without the professional medical support and letting Ipliers into Septic headquarters. The zombie lied there curled up on JJ’s lap, the mute ego was stroking his purple hair gently. “We have to contact Henrik. I don’t care he is at vacation, Robbie is dying here...” JJ looked at Jackieboy with fear and panic in his eyes, then he looked back at the zombie. Robbie quietly growled like a wounded cub. Jackieboy took a deep breath, he knew he was supposed to be a leader in this scenario. “Chase, can you look through Schneeple’s stuff once more? Anything can help at this point.” Chase quickly nodded and left without a word. Then the superhero turned to Robbie. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you to bed,” he muttered and picked up the zombie bridal style and headed towards the exit. JJ waved sheepishly at Robbie before they left. He hoped the little zombie was going to be alright, everyone here liked the purple haired ego. The mute ego took a deep breath. It was Marvin who interrupted his train of thoughts. “Are you okay?” Then he felt the magician’s hand on his shoulder. JJ frowned. Marvin didn’t expect the younger ego to be that strong. He couldn’t even react properly when a strong pair of arms pushed him against the wall. ‘Where is Anti?’ the mute ego signed. “What do you mean? Why should I know where’s that glitch bitch?” ‘Use magic.’ Marvin froze. He had to quickly make an excuse. “Jameson, why do you want him back? He possessed you. He hurt you. He tried to kill you!” JJ looked down and stepped away from the magician. ‘You don’t understand.’ “Then explain it to me! You’ve been acting weird. You are the only ego who keeps fighting for Anti. Why do you care so much about him?” A little blackboard appeared in JJ’s hand, the chalk in the other one. ‘Because he cares about me. I think.’ JJ scribbled on the board and turned it towards Marvin. Then he added: ‘I just want him back home.’ “Jameson, please talk to me… Or write it for me.” JJ sat down and put the blackboard on the table. He started to scribble. ‘I know I am different. But when Anti possessed me I felt like I belonged somewhere. I felt complete. He cared about me. Why don’t you let me be with him?’ A couple of tears fell down to the blackboard. The mute ego wiped them away and cleaned the board by the sleeve of his shirt. “Jameson, Anti is a demon. He’s never cared for anyone. He just wants to manipulate you-” Before Marvin finished the sentence, JJ frantically scribbled an answer. ‘He cared for someone. He told me.’ “For who?” JJ closed his eyes and shook head. ‘Can’t tell,’ he signed quickly before turning on a heel and running out of the room. Marvin frowned. JJ was acting weird and his fondness for the demon was quite dangerous, but the magician had a different problem right now. He snapped his fingers and green smoke filled his vision. When it faded away he was standing in Robbie’s room. The little zombie was lying on the bed. Marvin rushed towards him and instinctively checked his pulse before realizing Robbie doesn’t have one. “Marv?” “Yea, it’s me. Let’s get you to the doctor, Rob.” ** “One more zhing. Your throat is still visible.” Anti sighed but let Schneep fix his scarf. It was a beautiful day outside and Anti just wanted to get out. And even the egos shouldn’t be that much recognizable in the other dimension, doctor Schneeplestein still insisted on the disguise. He also seemed to care about Anti more. When the demon argued he doesn’t need to wear that beanie and scarf because they don’t need to hide their identities, Schneep just answered: “Shut up. It’z cold outside.” And it made Anti smile. He’s always loved attention and Jack hasn’t been giving him enough. Until now. Sharing the same body wasn't exactly a perfect choice of "giving your creation an attention". Since the night accident, the demon acted differently. He was quieter and more careful, Schneep didn’t like it but he could still feel the respect and fear towards him. After all, Anti was still a demon trapped in Jack’s body. He could snap anytime. He was clearly aware of this fact while they were walking along the beach. The waves were hitting the pebbles, the air was filled with the smell of salt. It was still quite early in the morning, the beach was almost empty. Everything seemed to be so calm... Maybe this was the reason why Schneeplestein blurted out something along the lines of: “So… How do you feel?” Right after that, he wanted to regret it. But Anti just stopped walking. Then he looked at Schneeplestein. There were despair and fear in his eyes. He seemed to be a completely different person. “Why did you do this to me? What do you want from me? What does Jack want?” Anti’s leg gave up and the demon’s knees hit the wet pebbles. “Why did he want to get into my head after what’s done...” “You mean-” That was it. This was the moment when Schneeplestein crossed the line. Anti shot a glare at Schneep. “Don’t you dare doc. Do not say that name.” “I know he’s been gone for a long time but we can-” “No. Jack killed him. He is dead...” Schneep noticed some blood soaked through the scarf wrapped around Anti’s neck. He quickly offered him a hand but the demon ignored it and stood up by himself. He looked at Schneep with dead eyes. “Jack is still here, you know.” Schneep didn’t say anything so Anti continued: “He wants to get back to control, he wants to talk to you. But I am not gonna let him. He is weak.” “He cares about you!” “No. I was just a mistake.” “Look at me… I have no idea what Jack’s plan is, but he didn’t destroy you. He let you into his own body. He let you feel emotions. He wants to understand you. Jack cares about you and so do we. Because we are a family!” Schneep was trying so hard not to slip into his German accent. He was trying so hard not to cry or punch Anti. The demon closed eyes and took a deep breath. “Henrik, look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you are not scared of me.” When Anti opened his eyes, there was only void in there. Black like charcoal. Cold and heartless. “Come on! Say it!” Anti growled, his voice glitched a bit. But Henrik couldn’t do it. Fear and terror overwhelmed him. Like every time Anti was around. Schneep touched his own neck. Nothing was there. Everything was okay. “That’s what I thought.” They remained silent for the rest of the walk.

Tag list: @shirowolfy @pixelenchanter @watermelonsinmyattic

If you want to be tagged, let me know!

[crystalninjaphoenix]

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 ̧gu̢ys̴ 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.

[telltheworld-phff]

Chapter 7: Turning the tide

What Carol didn't know is that Harry was expecting something to leak. Every morning he would wake up expecting to see a missed call from Edward or his grandmother with the new tabloid's headline. He was expecting a history about how he had dinner with a co-worker in Brazil or details about his night in a Brazilian night club. He could almost see all the made up things the press would publish, but although he wouldn't admit it he was expecting that things he had told her to make the headlines. If they ever made the headlines, it'd disappoint him in so many levels. Even though he knew they all had signed NDA's, he knew that sometimes it wasn't enough for someone not to sell him. He waited the ball to drop every single day after he left São Paulo, but since after he was back in London, not a single word about the time he spent with her hit the news.

And he was grateful for that. Grateful for having trusted her with small bits of information. Some of them were true and others were not, something that he hated doing to anyone he met, but that was necessary for him to know if he could trust the person or not. Four weeks have passed since he left São Paulo, and specially that morning, he'd have to talk to her again. He was surprisingly excited. He kind of missed their banter. And Edward needed some more explanation in one of the reports she made. Harry had wanted to talk to her since he left, but he couldn't find a good reason to. And this morning he took advantage of the British punctuality to time the best hour to speak. Harry made sure to ask for Carol's report when Edward was busy and with packed work. He played an act of "I need it now", and Edward just asked him to wait a little bit before he would look for Carolina's number and call her. If it was any other day, Harry would just come back to his office and wait for the paper, but now he wanted an excuse to talk to her. "I'm going to call her myself, Ed.", Harry said already looking through the files where she added personal information in. He got her phone number and with a mischievous smile he went back to his office. He sat a his chair with her number in his hands and wondered a little bit if it was the right thing. If he was completely honest, the report was already very good and it was ready to be signed and archived. Harry had spent the last three days looking for faults in it, and it was so damn hard to find. But he found some information that hadn't made the cut (because they weren't needed in the report) and started asking Edward to change it or have someone to do it. He grabbed his work phone and added her number. It took him a couple more minutes before he texted her. H: Hey Carol. What's up? He didn't want to check on his phone every five minutes, so he set it aside and found something to work with. He started sorting his emails and trying to not think about it. He even scolded himself for being so nervous about talking to her again. She was a colleague. She's Carol. Only Carol. And he had a girlfriend. 45 minutes later an answer made his phone buzz. C: Who's it? Her phone buzzed beside her and woke her up. Who was texting her at 6:00 am? She could sleep at least 40 more minutes before she had to get ready for school and someone was daring to text her at that time of the morning. She cursed a bit before grabbing her phone to discover who was about to hear a very pissed Carolina complaining about messages at that ungodly hour of the day. She thought she was still sleeping when she saw way too many numbers in the screen. There was a message from an unknown number, from London (which she discovered after a quick Google research). She wasn't going to answer it. She didn't know anyone that lived in London anyway. She got up and went to the bathroom to have a shower. After she finished, and she was more awake now, it hit her: It might be Harry. But she then laughed at herself. Why would Prince Harry be texting her? She was going crazy. Prince Harry wouldn't waste his time texting her. But the message did say "Carol", so it wasn't just a coincidence, was it? Her curiosity got the best of her and she answered it while she was fixing her some breakfast. The answer came faster than she thought. H: Forgotten me already, have you? ;) It was him after all. She didn't have to ask. She'd recognize that tone and that sass anywhere. She stopped eating midway when the answer arrived, she even spit a bit of the orange juice she was drinking. How did he find her number? Why was him texting her? C: Probably have. Since I don't really know who you are... Harry rolled his eyes. For someone as smart as Carol, she should've noticed right away who it was. As long as he knew, the only person she knew that lived in London was him. Or Edward. Or one of his PO's. But why would any of them text her if not him. Duh. He typed and erased the answer a few times before hitting send. H: It's your favorite prince! Carol decided to have some fun and she never typed an answer as fast as the next one she sent to him. C: Carl Philip! :O How did you get my number? Harry rolled his eyes. Again. H: Not Carl Philip... C: Haakon, then? H: No, Carolina. It's not Carl Philip and not Haakon. It's the best looking prince in the UK. With his reply she laughed out loud. Harry could be so full of himself when he wanted. She was hot, of course. But she wouldn't admit that out loud... or, worse, to him. So she decided to push even further to see what he was going to say. C: George! I didn't know you knew how to type that well being only 3 years old. But yeah... How's Lupo and Marvin? H: Fuck off, Carolina. C: Your Royal Highness, what do I owe this pleasure of waking me up at 6 am? H: Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot we were in different time zones. C: That was awfully unkind of you. My sleeping pattern is a sacred thing. But since you're a prince - not the very best looking one, btw - I won't tell you off. I'm on my way to school. In that moment Harry laughed out loud. Carolina's sleeping pattern came as close as a hibernating bear. He wouldn't mention it to her, but she was the most sleepy person he knew so far. H: I said I'm sorry. So... how are you? C: I'm fine and you? How did you get my number? H: I'm alright. And I just looked through your file. But I also could've asked James Bond to fetch it for me. C: Should I know why would you disturb Mr. Bond's fight against criminals just to get a phone number? H: We need something from you... And then he explained what was needed of her and he hoped that she'd find a good enough reason for contacting her after so many time. Somehow he thought she'd know it was just an excuse to talk to her again. As always, she said she'd get to work on it when she was back at home. They texted each other for a little longer before she turned her phone off to pay attention in the class that was about to start. When she arrived home she opened her e-mail to see the message she received a few hours before. She soon did what was asked and sent it to Edward and Harry saying she was available for any necessary changes on the file. While she worked, another e-mail came in her inbox. She had been selected to participate in a job interview. The company remained in confidentiality and she'd have to be there next afternoon. She considered not going to the interview. Just because when the company didn't show it's name, it meant that it was shitty position in a shitty place. She answered the e-mail asking for more information about the job position and what field would she be working on. She turned on her radio and started singing along while she cleaned her whole house. She was doing everything she could to not think about her last encounter with Rodrigo. She could say that the love she felt for him, was disappearing. Slowly but constantly disappearing and she was looking forward for the day where she'd not feel anything for him. She actually got a reply from the company. It wasn't a detailed job position, but she could at least see that it was a communication company and that she'd get an internship in revising and editing texts and internal communication. She confirmed her presence and started to prepare for the interview: looking for the address online, getting the information about the buses she'd have to take to get there, picking out an outfit and to print her new portfolio. To avoid disappointments, she didn't mention it to her mom. They chatted for a bit after dinner that night. "You know, Flavio asked me to go have dinner with him on Friday.", she said sitting on her daughter's bed. She was biting her lip, a clear sing she was nervous about the topic they were chatting about. "And what did you say?", Carol looked at her mother. "I said that I had to think about it. Meaning that I'd ask you first. What do you think about it?", her mom was looking for a sincere answer. "Well... you're 60 and you're asking me permission to go on a date with a guy? That's weird.", she laughed and her mom only rolled her eyes. "I mean. If you want to go out with him, then do. You're a single woman." "You won't be upset with me?", her mom asked. "No. You deserve to be happy for a change. Both of you are single and grown ups.", she smiled. Her mom got up and kissed her forehead before leaving the bedroom. "Is now the time we should have the talk?" "What talk?", her mom was confused. "The talk about where babies come from and how two people who really like each other hug..." "Shut up, Carolina!", her mom interrupted her rambling and opened the door to leave her bedroom. "But I don't want anyone pregnant, miss!", Carol yelled jokingly when her mom left. --- She arrived at the place of the interview a few minutes before the time they asked her to. She entered the building and gave her ID at the reception. She was headed to the 5th floor and waited for a while. There were ten people waiting with her. She tried to look for a sign to discover where she actually was. But probably it was just a building rented for a HR company to make the interviews for the employers. The interview was like many others she did. A Portuguese test, that she always finished first; a journalism test, an English test and a brief conversation where they asked about her work experience, her hobbies and how she saw herself in 5 years. They asked about the time she was a freelancer at WorldWide and she told them the work she helped to develop there. The woman interviewing her seemed interested but she asked her to wait on the outside for a couple minutes. This time, though, she got to talk to the supervisor. And that's when she was a bit more relaxed, she knew she had done something right. Talking to a supervisor or a manager was always a good sign. They chatted for a few minutes and he said what she was waiting for the past months: "I think this is it. You're part of our team. You had the best scores in all the tests we gave you." She wanted to scream and run and scream again. But she just smiled and thanked them for the opportunity. He explained what her tasks would be, payments and hours and every practical thing for when you're starting a new job. And that's when she got to know the name of the company: she was the new trainee at BBC Headquarters in Brazil. She couldn't believe it that an non eye-catch ad had led her to be employed at BBC. She had been accepted in one of the greatest companies of media and communication in the world. It took her a few minutes to calm down, for her hands to stop shaking and to her breathing to go back to normal. She thanked her new boss and left with all the necessary paperwork for her admission. Losing no time, she went to all the needed places she had to before going home. When she got there, her mom was making dinner and had a worried expression on her face. "Carolina! Where were you?", she said drying her hands on her apron. "I was doing an interview, mãe.", Carol answered putting her bag away. "Why didn't you tell me? How was it?", her mom seemed interested and surely more relieved now that her daughter was home. "Because I was tired of always telling you and coming home with bad news. Today, though, I got the job!" "You did? OH MY GOD! OF COURSE YOU DID! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU", she said hugging her daughter. "Yes, mãe, I did.", she was smiling. "Where are you going to work at?" "BBC." "Holy shit! You serious?", her mom had her hands over her mouth. "Yes! I didn't know it was there until this afternoon, though. But I start Monday". "Oh, thank God! I am so proud of you, Carol." "Thank you mom.", she said smiling at her mom "I'm going to finish dinner and then we can eat, ok? Now I wish I had done something more special for us to celebrate. On the weekend I'll make your favorite food and a cake. You know, your grandmother always said everything gets better with a cake." "Yeah...", Carol said laughing and going to her bedroom to change clothes. She sighed relieved while sitting on her bed. Not only she was now employed, but in her field of study and in one of the best places to have an internship in. She looked for her phone inside her bag and took a deep breath. She texted Julia and was happy with her friend's reactions. Lots of smiling pictures and thumbs up... and even an improvised "well done" sign. However there was another person to share her big secret. The one that made sure to give her an excellent recommendation letter. Carol smiled and texted the number he texted her a few days before, hoping it was really his. C: I got a job! The answer came a few minutes later while she was changing her clothes. H: You did? That's great! Where? C: At BBC. Harry sat up on his bed surprised when he saw what she had written. If anyone would get a job at BBC that person would be her. But he knew it was a very competitive place and worried a little about it. H: REALLY? She laughed then. Everyone was reacting the same way. C: Yes! I just got home from the interview. H: Congratulations, Carol. I knew you'd be working soon. C: Thank you, Harry. Your letter of recomendation helped me a lot. He got distracted with other texts on his personal phone and took a while to answer. She was getting ready to sleep when her phone buzzed beside her. H: But I didn't put my name on it, nor anything Royal related, though. So the merit is all yours. How are you? C: I'm alright. And you? He couldn't tell her the news his grandmother had given him a few hours before, that had killed his humor and made him upset. Nor could he comment on his relationship with Meghan, because it was still a secret. So he went the easiest way. He lied about how he was feeling. H: I'm great. I've got a few free days. C: Always good to have those. H: Yeah. And your mom? How is she? C: She's great. Has a date on Friday. He was trying to keep his mind of it, but all he could hear was his grandmother's voice inside his head repeating those awful news over and over again. He got up and went to the kitchen to drink water. He took only a sip before putting the bottle inside the fridge again. H: Yeah? That's good for her. How are you feeling about it? C: Normal, I guess. I don't really know him. Only a few stories my mom told me. H: Hopefully he's a good lad. C: Hopefully he'll make her happy. That's all that matters to me really. H: That's important, yes. C: So, what are you doing with your free time? He was doing fine, to be honest and was enjoying his free time up until this afternoon. H: Sleeping, mostly. Your panda habits really stuck with me. Then hitting a few pubs with some friends and resting. We're going to have a busy couple of months ahead of us. C: Make sure you're well rested, Your Royal Highness. He went back to his bedroom and rolled his eyes when he read her reply. H: Why do you always have to say that? C: It is your title after all :) H: Never a fan of both the title and that smiley face to be honest. C: No? Why not? I shall call you Your Royal Pickiness then. H: It's a long history... But not calling me Your Royal Pickiness either. C: Can't a girl have fun? She actually pouted while texting that. H: At me? No. With me? Hell yes.

[flauntpage]

NBA Summer League is Disappointing (So Far)

Here are a few general observations from my three days in Las Vegas, where, even when it's windy, raining, and 2 AM, the temperature safely clears 115 degrees, while the most enriching food that can be purchased on game days at Thomas & Mack Center is a bag of sour gummy worms. Also, ten games worth of basketball is played everyday.

But, for reasons that I'll get into below, the first weekend of this year's action was relatively dull. There's a noticeable drop in star power, and a majority of the main draws are big men who rely on a more structured environment than what is currently possible in the guard-friendly, defense-averse setting they (very) briefly find themselves in in Vegas. Not all was boring, of course, and we'll get into some players who've unexpectedly shined, but the general takeaway I had was a wish for the on-court display to be a tad closer to actual NBA basketball than what was out there.

• Summer league's most thrilling, anticipated, and indelible moments typically fall under these categories: A) a lottery pick wears their new team's jersey for the very first time, B) a familiar face foreshadows what's to come by sprinkling previously unseen skills into their repertoire, C) a very cool dunk happens, D) Jack Cooley enters a game, E) a player clouded in uncertainty attempts to readjust the trajectory of his career.

The overall quality of play seen so far isn't necessarily lesser than previous years, but the entertainment value and attraction is lacking. For multiple reasons, there aren't enough players who can make the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention every time they touch the ball. Various levels of intrigue still surround every incoming first-round pick, but aside from an impatient crowd that begs Trae Young to shoot whenever he dribbles past half-court, no player is captivating enough to generate genuine buzz.

There is no playmaking phenom who creates a palpable stir with the ball in their hands—like Ben Simmons, Lonzo Ball, or even D’Angelo Russell—or scorer who's strong enough to exploit summer league's allergic reaction to defense, like Devin Booker did two years ago. The roster sheets are instead filled with anonymous names, with holes that are hard to ignore.

Some of this is thanks to the Dallas Mavericks letting Luka Doncic get some rest. Every one of his touches would, for better or worse, be placed under a microscope. Some of it's because Michael Porter Jr. isn't healthy. Some of it’s due to the Philadelphia 76ers letting Markelle Fultz avoid a potential catastrophe. The opportunity to witness his refined jumper (if it exists) in live action would electrify the gym.

Most of it’s because last year's rookie class is way ahead of schedule. Dennis Smith Jr., John Collins, Jonathan Isaac, Josh Jackson, Frank Ntilikina, Zach Collins, Bam Adebayo, O.G. Anunoby, and a few others have all played in at least one game, but most of those guys are too good for this place. And then there are a handful of super sophomores that are healthy enough to take the floor but (understandably) skipping the whole thing: Donovan Mitchell, Jayson Tatum, Ball, Lauri Markkanen, De’Aaron Fox, and Kyle Kuzma, to name a few.

It’s 10,000 percent logical for their teams to not risk needless injury—Malik Monk already broke his thumb, Collins injured his ankle, and Jackson had to wear a protective mask after he was hit in the face—and if they struggle it’d set off unnecessary alarms. But is there nothing any of them need to work on? I'm not saying they should play, but summer league is an opportunity to sharpen elements of their skill-sets that wouldn’t normally see the light of day. It would've been cool to see them try out different things they've been working on since the season ended, and also interact with incoming rookies, as we're seeing with Atlanta, Orlando, and Phoenix. Markkanen and Wendell Carter are Chicago's frontcourt of the future. Let's watch them interact for the first time! Fox tossing lobs to Marvin Bagley would be neat.

The incoming rookie class isn't characterless, but they can't, for the most part, supply reliable entertainment value. Here's why...

• Summer league is still not for big men, and five of the first seven players selected in June's draft are big men. (Doncic and Young are the other two. One isn't playing and the other is not playing great.) The initial Bagley-Deandre Ayton showdown was an aesthetic dud for several reasons. Nobody wants to watch two big men fight for post position, catch the ball 15 feet from the rim, then reverse pivot into regurgitated jumpers.

This doesn't mean either is bad (Bagley hurt himself and Ayton looks more like Andre Drummond than Karl-Anthony Towns), but summer league is all about ball-handlers, and most of them would rather make a name for themselves than worry about completing a proper read or making a winning play. Designed post-ups are rare and executing a tight pick-and-roll isn't. This environment fits Mo Bamba like a tube top. He's spent most possessions scrambling around, setting high screens and then not knowing what to do. He doesn't dive towards the rim or fade behind the three-point line. He just stands there as teammates and coaches scream out instructions. (Jaren Jackson, Jr. is a bit more polished and already able to stretch the floor, so that's nice.)

There are opportunities on defense and the offensive glass, but bigs who aren't prepared to put the ball on the floor sometimes have to in Vegas, and it usually doesn't end well for anyone involved.

• It's a bit wild to type this sentence, let alone say it out loud, but John Collins is going to enter next season as the third best player in his draft class. (Quick aside: Young is a fantastic passer who needed ten seconds to develop exciting pick-and-roll chemistry with Collins, but I found myself constantly fantasizing about how Collins would look next to Jackson, Jr. for the next eight years. That frontcourt could've had it all.)

Collins finished his rookie season averaging 15.7 points, 10.9 rebounds, and 1.9 blocks per 36 minutes. He shot 57.6 percent from the floor and his Value Over Replacement Player (VORP) was third behind only Tatum and Mitchell. Collins also grabbed 33 more boards than any other rookie. (In second was Markannen, who played 235 more minutes.) The guy is still only 20 years old, and at summer league he was superhuman, nailing threes and dunking just about every ball he touched around the basket.

Pick-and-roll defense is still an area he needs to work on, particularly if Atlanta views him as a long-term five, but it's still miraculous for the 19th pick to be outperforming so much talent—at his own position and elsewhere—this early on.

• I saw Zhou Qi switch onto a guard, block an outside shot, and then knock down his own three a few minutes later. It's tattooed into my memory. Qi isn't the smoothest athlete in the world, but, even though it sounds like an irrational overreaction, I came away from that sequence feeling like he can be a decent NBA player. He's 7'2" with a 7'8" wingspan and blocked five more shots in Monday's win over the Los Angeles Clippers. Can he be a legitimate stretch five next to James Harden and Chris Paul?

• Harry Giles is alive! This is exciting. Before he suffered his second major knee injury, Giles was rated number one in his high school class, ahead of Jackson, Tatum, Ball, Fultz, Fox, and, well, everybody else. Poor health shattered his stock and expectations were tattered after he missed his senior season of high school and first year in the NBA. But after scoring 25 points in his first 45 minutes of professional action—with fluidity, power, and technical skill—this is someone who needs to pop back onto everyone’s radar.

As has been mentioned dozens of times in this column alone, summer league is not a good place for big men to showcase what they can do. Giles, however, has enough individual talent to calmly create his own shot. That doesn’t guarantee he’ll dominate a real NBA game, but just seeing him on the court was awesome. If he can stay healthy for the next few years, the Sacramento Kings may have finally caught a break/not be completely gutted without a lottery pick in next year’s draft. A Giles-Bagley frontcourt, with Fox running point and Bogdan Bogdanovic and Buddy Hield spacing the floor, actually isn’t that bad!

NBA Summer League is Disappointing (So Far) published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

NBA Summer League is Disappointing (So Far)

Here are a few general observations from my three days in Las Vegas, where, even when it’s windy, raining, and 2 AM, the temperature safely clears 115 degrees, while the most enriching food that can be purchased on game days at Thomas & Mack Center is a bag of sour gummy worms. Also, ten games worth of basketball is played everyday.

But, for reasons that I’ll get into below, the first weekend of this year’s action was relatively dull. There’s a noticeable drop in star power, and a majority of the main draws are big men who rely on a more structured environment than what is currently possible in the guard-friendly, defense-averse setting they (very) briefly find themselves in in Vegas. Not all was boring, of course, and we’ll get into some players who’ve unexpectedly shined, but the general takeaway I had was a wish for the on-court display to be a tad closer to actual NBA basketball than what was out there.

• Summer league’s most thrilling, anticipated, and indelible moments typically fall under these categories: A) a lottery pick wears their new team’s jersey for the very first time, B) a familiar face foreshadows what’s to come by sprinkling previously unseen skills into their repertoire, C) a very cool dunk happens, D) Jack Cooley enters a game, E) a player clouded in uncertainty attempts to readjust the trajectory of his career.

The overall quality of play seen so far isn’t necessarily lesser than previous years, but the entertainment value and attraction is lacking. For multiple reasons, there aren’t enough players who can make the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention every time they touch the ball. Various levels of intrigue still surround every incoming first-round pick, but aside from an impatient crowd that begs Trae Young to shoot whenever he dribbles past half-court, no player is captivating enough to generate genuine buzz.

There is no playmaking phenom who creates a palpable stir with the ball in their hands—like Ben Simmons, Lonzo Ball, or even D’Angelo Russell—or scorer who’s strong enough to exploit summer league’s allergic reaction to defense, like Devin Booker did two years ago. The roster sheets are instead filled with anonymous names, with holes that are hard to ignore.

Some of this is thanks to the Dallas Mavericks letting Luka Doncic get some rest. Every one of his touches would, for better or worse, be placed under a microscope. Some of it’s because Michael Porter Jr. isn’t healthy. Some of it’s due to the Philadelphia 76ers letting Markelle Fultz avoid a potential catastrophe. The opportunity to witness his refined jumper (if it exists) in live action would electrify the gym.

Most of it’s because last year’s rookie class is way ahead of schedule. Dennis Smith Jr., John Collins, Jonathan Isaac, Josh Jackson, Frank Ntilikina, Zach Collins, Bam Adebayo, O.G. Anunoby, and a few others have all played in at least one game, but most of those guys are too good for this place. And then there are a handful of super sophomores that are healthy enough to take the floor but (understandably) skipping the whole thing: Donovan Mitchell, Jayson Tatum, Ball, Lauri Markkanen, De’Aaron Fox, and Kyle Kuzma, to name a few.

It’s 10,000 percent logical for their teams to not risk needless injury—Malik Monk already broke his thumb, Collins injured his ankle, and Jackson had to wear a protective mask after he was hit in the face—and if they struggle it’d set off unnecessary alarms. But is there nothing any of them need to work on? I’m not saying they should play, but summer league is an opportunity to sharpen elements of their skill-sets that wouldn’t normally see the light of day. It would’ve been cool to see them try out different things they’ve been working on since the season ended, and also interact with incoming rookies, as we’re seeing with Atlanta, Orlando, and Phoenix. Markkanen and Wendell Carter are Chicago’s frontcourt of the future. Let’s watch them interact for the first time! Fox tossing lobs to Marvin Bagley would be neat.

The incoming rookie class isn’t characterless, but they can’t, for the most part, supply reliable entertainment value. Here’s why…

• Summer league is still not for big men, and five of the first seven players selected in June’s draft are big men. (Doncic and Young are the other two. One isn’t playing and the other is not playing great.) The initial Bagley-Deandre Ayton showdown was an aesthetic dud for several reasons. Nobody wants to watch two big men fight for post position, catch the ball 15 feet from the rim, then reverse pivot into regurgitated jumpers.

This doesn’t mean either is bad (Bagley hurt himself and Ayton looks more like Andre Drummond than Karl-Anthony Towns), but summer league is all about ball-handlers, and most of them would rather make a name for themselves than worry about completing a proper read or making a winning play. Designed post-ups are rare and executing a tight pick-and-roll isn’t. This environment fits Mo Bamba like a tube top. He’s spent most possessions scrambling around, setting high screens and then not knowing what to do. He doesn’t dive towards the rim or fade behind the three-point line. He just stands there as teammates and coaches scream out instructions. (Jaren Jackson, Jr. is a bit more polished and already able to stretch the floor, so that’s nice.)

There are opportunities on defense and the offensive glass, but bigs who aren’t prepared to put the ball on the floor sometimes have to in Vegas, and it usually doesn’t end well for anyone involved.

• It’s a bit wild to type this sentence, let alone say it out loud, but John Collins is going to enter next season as the third best player in his draft class. (Quick aside: Young is a fantastic passer who needed ten seconds to develop exciting pick-and-roll chemistry with Collins, but I found myself constantly fantasizing about how Collins would look next to Jackson, Jr. for the next eight years. That frontcourt could’ve had it all.)

Collins finished his rookie season averaging 15.7 points, 10.9 rebounds, and 1.9 blocks per 36 minutes. He shot 57.6 percent from the floor and his Value Over Replacement Player (VORP) was third behind only Tatum and Mitchell. Collins also grabbed 33 more boards than any other rookie. (In second was Markannen, who played 235 more minutes.) The guy is still only 20 years old, and at summer league he was superhuman, nailing threes and dunking just about every ball he touched around the basket.

Pick-and-roll defense is still an area he needs to work on, particularly if Atlanta views him as a long-term five, but it’s still miraculous for the 19th pick to be outperforming so much talent—at his own position and elsewhere—this early on.

• I saw Zhou Qi switch onto a guard, block an outside shot, and then knock down his own three a few minutes later. It’s tattooed into my memory. Qi isn’t the smoothest athlete in the world, but, even though it sounds like an irrational overreaction, I came away from that sequence feeling like he can be a decent NBA player. He’s 7’2″ with a 7’8″ wingspan and blocked five more shots in Monday’s win over the Los Angeles Clippers. Can he be a legitimate stretch five next to James Harden and Chris Paul?

• Harry Giles is alive! This is exciting. Before he suffered his second major knee injury, Giles was rated number one in his high school class, ahead of Jackson, Tatum, Ball, Fultz, Fox, and, well, everybody else. Poor health shattered his stock and expectations were tattered after he missed his senior season of high school and first year in the NBA. But after scoring 25 points in his first 45 minutes of professional action—with fluidity, power, and technical skill—this is someone who needs to pop back onto everyone’s radar.

As has been mentioned dozens of times in this column alone, summer league is not a good place for big men to showcase what they can do. Giles, however, has enough individual talent to calmly create his own shot. That doesn’t guarantee he’ll dominate a real NBA game, but just seeing him on the court was awesome. If he can stay healthy for the next few years, the Sacramento Kings may have finally caught a break/not be completely gutted without a lottery pick in next year’s draft. A Giles-Bagley frontcourt, with Fox running point and Bogdan Bogdanovic and Buddy Hield spacing the floor, actually isn’t that bad!

NBA Summer League is Disappointing (So Far) syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Stalkers and Masks

Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

These are two moments that I really wanted to address, but I felt both were too short for their own story. So I took one and made it a framing device for the other. One’s about Stacy and what she’s going through, and the other is about Marvin and one of his problems. Ehhh, probably not my best work but I’ve done these two plot points all the justice I can.

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

Stacy liked to think that her computer was secure. She kept up-to-date on her antivirus software, didn’t give trust anything that asked for her security information, and kept her passwords on a sheet of paper in her nightstand drawer instead of anywhere digitally that could be hacked. However, she quickly learned that all these precautions were for naught when it came to the living glitch who decided he wanted to check on her every ten hours or so. She’d be browsing the Internet and suddenly the webpage would freak out. That didn’t mean she was being hacked (actually, technically she was) it just meant Anti decided to pop in.

Honestly, she was starting to warm up to him. Maybe that was because he hadn’t showed up in person for the last week so she didn’t have to deal with his personality. Occasionally she’d get an email or text from a blocked user, asking her how life was, if she was safe. And, well, life was better. She’d gotten a new job at a department store with better pay. The hours were good too, now she had time to spend with her kids and also get enough sleep. Things in the city seemed to have calmed down, in that there was less death and disappearance on the news.

But...something was off. There were times when she was out and about, driving the kids to places or running errands on her own, when she felt like someone was watching her. When she looked around, she usually didn’t see anyone. But there were times when she thought she saw...him. To the point where it was starting to freak her out.

One night, after putting the kids to bed, she sat down at her computer and typed a simple phrase into Google: “how to tell if someone is stalking me.” Immediately, the page froze. She hit enter several times, trying to search, but a strange, rapid staticky beeping just came out from her speakers. And it was that moment when she realized it wasn’t just something wrong with her Internet.

A fizzing of pixels later, Anti was sitting on her desk, legs dangling off the side. “What are you, seven?” she asked before her brain could catch up with her mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anti said. “So what’s up with that search?”

“Are you spying on me whenever I use Google?”

“No, I just installed a program to let me know when certain words were searched. Such as ‘stalk’ or ‘stalking.’” His eye narrowed. “So? What’s the deal? Is it him?”

“I’m...not sure,” Stacy said slowly. “Sometimes I think I see him, other times I just get a...a vague sort of sense that...someone’s watching me. It’s probably nothing, I’m probably just being stupid, but...better safe than sorry, y’know?”

“Definitely, especially considering they could be magically tracking you.”

Stacy gaped at him and his nonchalant statement. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, you were there that night at the diner. You saw that magic was real. Didn’t you think something like that was possible?”

“No, I didn’t.” Stacy leaned back in her swivel chair. “I guess it never occurred to me that that was a-a possibility. I didn’t know the rules for this sort of thing. Sorry, I should have thought—I should have known.”

Anti stared at her, then glitched off the desk and into a standing position. “No, you really shouldn’t have, because nobody told you. It’s not your fault, so don’t assume it is. I could possibly give you a brief overview, let you know what you’re in danger of.”

“Oh! Th-thank you!” Stacy hadn’t realized she was apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. Force of habit, she assumed. She looked at the computer screen, where her question still lingered, unsearched, in the search bar. “Do you think...I-I mean, I know Chase doesn’t have any magic, unless he does and I didn’t know, so...are they teaming up?”

Anti considered this. “Probably. Your ex and the magician aren’t on the best terms, but they’re civil. You’d be in more danger of having the doctor or the vigilante stalking you for him, those guys are closer.”

For some reason, that simple statement made dread pool in her stomach. “H-how many of them are there again?”

“Five.”

“And...and they could all help Ch—help him follow me?”

“Mmm, probably.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Stacy sat on her hands to keep them from shaking. She’d never done anything in her life to warrant so many enemies. And, if she remembered correctly, these guys were responsible for most of the current chaos and terror in the city. She worked hard to take deep, controlled breaths. “Do you...do you have any, uh, um, any info on these guys I could see? You’re all computery, do you have files on them or something?”

“I do. But you don’t want the full files, you’ll lose sleep. I can maybe give you some edited versions...” Anti’s head tilted to one side. He stared intently at her computer screen. She watched as her browser closed and her file explorer opened. By itself, the computer navigated to the downloads folder, then five new folders appeared, each one labeled with a name, followed by (edit).

“Huh...that’s handy.” Stacy scooted her chair closer to the desk, grabbing the mouse. She stared at the folder with his name on it for a while, but she couldn’t bring herself to click on it. Instead, she clicked on the next one down, opening up the folder to reveal various .txt files.

“There used to be photos and videos in here,” Anti said, peering over her shoulder.

“Why’d you remove them?”

“How squeamish are you?”

“I mean...my daughter broke her arm once. It was all bent but I could look at it.”

“I probably made a good call then.” Anti pointed at one of the files, and it opened up. “Brief overview: guy’s a doctor. Not really, ‘cause he got booted from medical school for maltreatment. Didn’t stop him from faking graduation, getting a job at a hospital, and then stealing the patients who wouldn’t be missed.”

“This sounds like the backstory of a horror movie villain,” Stacy laughed nervously.

Anti didn’t laugh. “I’m sure the patients thought they were stuck in a horror movie.” He gave Stacy a dead-eye stare until her smile faded. Then he turned back to the screen. “Police in his home country found out. He ran, ending up here. Started a nice little black-market clinic and kept up his hobby.”

“You know I think I’ll read this one later, when it’s lighter outside.” Stacy hurried to click out of the folder. She opened up the next one instead. This one had videos as well as text files. “...should I be worried about these?” she asked, circling one of the videos with the mouse.

“Nothing explicit, just violence like you’d see in a movie. Criminals get the shit beat out of them. The works.”

“Wait...this is for that vigilante, isn’t it? The one on the news?” Stacy looked at the folder name. “That’s his real—”

“Yep. So if you see a guy who looks like this—” He opened one of the videos, fast forwarding until he got to a good image of the vigilante’s face. “—and he introduces himself to you as that, you better run. Actually, don’t, he’s probably faster than you. Distract him until you can sneak away.”

“He can’t be that bad, can he?” Stacy asked, skeptical. “I mean...getting rid of the criminals in the city? It’s like a real-life superhero.”

“Well, superheroes don’t beat confessions out of mob members and then murder them. He’s probably the safest to have a conversation with, though. Assuming you haven’t done anything illegal.”

“O-kay...then...” Stacy was starting to realize just how deep this trouble she was in really was. She could feel the beginnings of panic edging in on her, but she pushed it away. She’d let herself freak out later. “Wh-what about that magician guy? I think you called him Marvin in the diner? Can he really...magically track me?”

“Probably.” Anti closed the vigilante’s folder and opened up the magician’s. There were a lot of images in this one, what looked like pictures of pages from books. “I’ve been trying to keep track of the spells he knows, but it can be difficult. There’s a good chance he knows a tracking spell, but he probably wouldn’t use it unless someone, like your ex, asked him to.”

“...do I want to know why?”

“Eh, he doesn’t really care for spells like that. If they can’t produce effects he can see, he won’t use them unless necessary. He’s a flashy bitch like that. Has a style and sticks to it. Like that cape, which he only takes off maybe one day per week, and that mask, which I actually haven’t seen him take off yet.”

“Really? Never? Not even to sleep or take a shower or anything?”

“Sleeps with it on. And I’m don’t know about that shower thing, I didn’t put a camera in their bathroom.”

Stacy briefly wondered if his knowledge about sleeping with the mask meant he’d put cameras in the bedrooms, but she pushed that out of her mind for now. “Why? Seems uncomfortable...”

Anti laughed. “Well, a long time ago, he tried a spell he wasn’t ready for, and it blew up in his face. I’m pretty sure he’s embarrassed about what it looks like underneath there...”

“Schneep! I know for a fact you’re in there!” Marvin banged on the door. When there was still no answer, he sighed, looking around the reception room of the clinic where he was standing. He didn’t like this place. It was that kind of almost-nice that looked like it was trying to fool you into thinking it was less shady than it actually was. The good doctor really needed to upgrade his decor.

Having enough of contemplating his dislike of this place, Marvin turned back to the door and started banging harder. “Hey doc! I’m not against melting your door down if you don’t come out in the next thirty seconds!”

The door flung open, and Marvin barely jumped out of the way in time to avoid getting a whack to the face. Schneep poked his head out. He was wearing his mask, which he proceeded to pull down in order to scowl at Marvin. “There is no need for such a commotion, my friend!” he scolded. “I was in one of the back rooms, I did not hear you for a while and then it took me a tick-tock to get here.”

“Whatever. Get a security camera wired up here, or a buzzer or something. I could’ve been a customer who just decided to take business elsewhere.”

Schneep barked out a laugh. “If people come here, it is not because they have options to take business to. But enough of this, what did you want?”

Marvin shifted on his feet. “I...need you to take a look at something.”

“Oh, is that all?” A wave of relief crossed Schneep’s face. He stepped back, opening the door wide enough for Marvin to pass through. “Come in, come in, I can see what it is back here.”

Marvin let Schneep lead him into the operating part of the clinic, but he refused to sit down on the table. “It seems not so serious, so if you would please wait a moment while I take care of this...” Schneep vanished through one of the metal doors leading deeper into the building, leaving Marvin to tap his feet impatiently. He didn’t like this. First of all, this place looked like it was thrown together, and also needed an upgrade. Second of all, he was already having doubts about this, he didn’t want them to have time to fester.

Schneep reemerged, tossing an empty syringe on a nearby tray. “There we are, we will not be disturbed now,” he said. “What is it you need help with?”

Marvin started fidgeting, pulling on his fingers. “Okay. So. I am—look, I’m trusting you with this. You can’t tell anyone, alright?”

“That is no problem.”

“I’m serious. I will literally put a fucking curse on you if I find out you told anyone.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve been working on one that can make it feel like pins are being shoved in your eyes whenever you look at something, and that something can be as vague as a specific color. Y’know, like the literal version of ‘cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.’”

“Now you are going overboard with this. I have no intention of telling anyone whatever it is this is about. This secret of yours is safe with me.”

Marvin exhaled slowly, and looked toward the ceiling. “Okay. Okay, good. Fuck. Here goes nothing.” Before he could change his mind, he reached up and undid the straps of his mask, then pulled it off. He slowly looked back towards the doctor.

Schneep’s eyes were wide. He stepped forward until he was uncomfortably close to Marvin. He raised his hand. “May I...?”

Marvin hesitated. “...fine,” he grumbled. “But take off your gloves, they’re still messy. And be careful.”

The doctor pulled off his gloves, then put his hands on either side of Marvin’s head, turning it from side to side so he could get a better look. “My god,” he muttered. “What happened to you?”

“That’s not your fucking business,” Marvin said through gritted teeth. “But they’ve been...itching for a while now, and I’m wondering if they’re infected or something.”

“I would be surprised if they were not. They look...angry.” Schneep’s eyebrows furrowed. “How old are they?”

“I think about...four years at this point?” Marvin started turning his mask over in his hands. It was hard to remember sometimes.

“Really? I would think only a couple months.”

“Doc, I’ve been living with you for two years and haven’t once taken off my mask. You didn’t think there was a reason for that?”

“Ah yes.” Tentatively, Schneep reached out and tapped Marvin in the middle of his forehead. “What is this?”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Marvin yanked his head back.

“Excuse me, I am concerned! That looks like bone!”

“It’s not bone, it’s just—making my first mask out of ceramic was a really bad idea, ‘cause even magically-enhanced pottery can still shatter.”

“Why do you have ceramic embedded in your face?!”

Marvin resisted the urge to touch the places where the shards had ended up lodging. He had them memorized by now, mostly because of the dead spot in his nerves there. Forehead, upper cheeks, one between his nose and left eye, one above his right. He could have dealt with the rest of the scars, if only the shards weren’t there. “Look, I was wearing my old mask at the time this happened, it broke, I ended up getting pieces of porcelain fucking stuck to my face, can we move on?!”

Schneep raised his hands in surrender, stepping back. “Okay, okay, fine!”

“Thank you.” Marvin began spinning his mask around his pointer finger, using one of the eyeholes. “Anyway, can you tell if they’re infected? And can you help if they are?”

Schneep bit his lip, eyes scanning the damage. “Well, I would have to know what caused them. They look a bit like burns, but in the pattern of knife slashes. Like hot glass.”

“What?”

“Bits of broken glass, heated up so they will burn, flung at your face. That’s what it looks like. There are also parts where I am reminded of Lichtenburg figures.”

“What?” Marvin repeated, exasperated.

“When things are struck by high voltage, patterns will appear. These are not quite the same as scars of lightning, they are...bigger. But I am reminded of them.”

Marvin sighed. “You know what? Let’s just work under the assumption that someone took a hot, electrified knife and repeatedly applied it to my face, that’s probably as accurate as you’re going to get. There might also be some lingering traces of magic in there.”

Schneep rolled his eyes. “Well, I cannot do anything about that, but if they are itching and irritating you, I have some salves that may help. They are in the other back room, the storage one, if you would kindly follow me.”

“Alright, alright, but I hope you find this stuff quickly. Chase is making me watch his ex for him, and I don’t feel like getting into a shouting match with him over not actually doing it.”

It was around midnight when Stacy decided to go to bed. She’d tried to read through the file Anti had given her on the magician, but had to stomp halfway through. Some of these spells...why would anyone want to use spells like that? Instead, she switched to reading the vigilante’s file, managing to finish it. Then she realized it was way too late, and she had to get up early to make breakfast for the kids, get ready for work, take the kids to school, and go to work herself. That was only four things, but that was too much.

She was walking down the hall to her room when there was a knock on the front door.

Fear jolted through her. Who could be knocking this late at night? Nobody good, probably. She stood shock-still in the hallway, waiting for something else. When nothing happened, she swallowed her nerves and crept toward the living room and the front door. Maybe it was nothing?

When she flipped the lights on, the front room looked exactly the same as it had earlier that day. Except for one thing: there was now a brown envelope sitting on the floor, in the perfect position to have been pushed through the mail slot. Stacy slowly stepped forward. She peered through the peephole on the door, seeing nothing on the other side. So she looked down at the envelope on the floor, then bent over and picked it up. She turned it over in her hands.

There were words written on the back of the envelope. “Hello sweetheart.”

Stacy recognized that handwriting.

She collapsed on the couch, staring at the envelope, listening to her heart pounding in her ears.

He’d found her.