#but i feel silently judged by the anti casual voices in my head

[idkimnotreal]

eu4 gives me performance anxiety. i always feel like i should be near a world conquest in 1550 and not enjoying the game like i want to (slow paced, realistic, chill).

maybe i should slow the play speed even more. i play on 3 which is already a slow speed.

[writehardwhumpharder]

Story Prompt/Request

@whatwasmyprevioususername

So I don’t know what this is exactly or where it fits into the Carson series but here it is. Prompt: whumper takes whumpee while the caretaker watches, powerless to stop them.

Carson cursed himself under his breath for being so stupid. He’d walked directly into a trap and not for the first time either. Although it was the first time he’d been dumb enough to bring Danny with him. Lulled into a false sense of security by the midday sun, Carson saw no reason not to do a little of his own investigating on the case he was working on. There was a new magician in town attracting a lot of attention with his pattern of killing other magicians, typically the stronger ones associated with some of the gangs in the inner city.

He and Daniel went back to the crime scene where one of the first bodies had been found. The apartment had long since been cleaned up of blood and evidence but it was still locked to the public. Carson ignored the police tape as he ducked under it to walk inside. The apartment had an older style to it with archways between rooms and a fireplace in the corner adjacent to the door. First, he looked around for visible clues left behind before doing what he really came there to do which was inspect the place for traces of magic.

“Nice place, well, except for that giant bloodstain on the floor,” Daniel commented casually as he stepped around the stained patch of carpet. He had insisted on coming as ‘another set of eyes’ but Carson suspected he was there out of curiosity. “See anything interesting?” 

Carson took a moment to open up his magic senses so he could see the energy around him. To his surprise, he saw very little magic of any kind. In one corner of the room, he spotted purple tendrils of magic swirling around where a struggle had taken place but it could only belong to the victim, not the killer. His mind spun with questions. The police had seen the magician in action and confirmed the killer was no normal civilian. That’s why Carson was puzzled as to how someone with such strong magic would be able to get rid of all traces of himself. 

“It doesn’t make any sense-” Carson started talking but something stopped him in his tracks. Daniel looked up when he suddenly trailed off and knew from the look on Carson’s face it was serious. A strange presence stirred in the room, catching his attention immediately. The feeling was so overwhelming it seemed to suck all the air out of his lungs at once. The magic was thick and nauseatingly wrong to Carson’s senses. Some part of him knew it was magic but if it was, it was a kind he had never encountered before and hoped to never encounter again.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked.

“Shhh,” Carson stayed frozen in place, the hair on his arms sprang up with anticipation as he sensed another kind of presence, a physical one. The magician was close, and judging by the intensity of the magic, he knew there wasn’t time to run. Adrenaline flooded his veins and suddenly Carson was moving again. His eyes scanned the apartment, landing on a closet next to the bathroom. He opened the door and ushered Daniel inside. “Don’t make a sound, and whatever happens, don’t come out,” he told him.

Daniel’s brows pinched with worry and he opened his mouth to protest, “But what about you?”

“Promise me you’ll stay right here,” Carson commanded.

“But-”

“Promise!” He said, gritting his teeth, they didn’t have time to waste. With each passing second, Carson’s heart pounded faster and faster. 

“I promise,” Daniel forced the words out. It hurt him more to say those words than he could ever describe but he knew he had no choice. As the closet door closed in front of him Daniel couldn’t shake the feeling that Carson’s request sounded eerily like a dying wish.

Slowly backing up into the middle of the room Carson tried to prepare himself for anything. He didn’t know where the magician might attack from or what he would attack with. Summoning up as much energy as he could, Carson raised his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

A moment later, the door to the apartment slowly creaked open and in stepped, plain as day, a man about six feet tall wearing a dark coat, obscuring most of his figure. The move was so obvious and carefree that it gave Carson chills. He almost acted as if Carson wasn’t even there. Anyone watching the scene would think the magician was just an average guy returning from work after a long day, he didn’t seem at all like someone looking for a fight. Now that he was fully in the room the overwhelming stench of his magic had Carson wanting to crawl right out of his skin. It made him feel weak and sick to his stomach as his energy met the magician’s. While Carson’s magic was dark in nature this mysterious form of magic just felt empty to him. As the other magician looked him over it gave Carson enough time to identify what he was feeling. It wasn’t just empty magic, it was more like anti-magic…

Without thinking, Carson tried to end the fight before it could even begin. He used his strongest move, one he only uses in emergencies. And it got him… absolutely nowhere. Reaching out with his magic, Carson aimed to grab the man’s very soul but when his magic came in contact with the man’s aura of anti-magic it recoiled. 

“That won’t work,” the magician said. His voice was deep but clear and each word had the power to cut through Carson like a knife. The magician didn’t just block Carson’s magic, he killed it. The loss of energy sent Carson to his knees and suddenly it was a struggle just to breathe. His magic was a living part of him so he felt it with every fiber of his being when it started to die inside him. The moment he knew he wasn’t going to make it through the fight his eyes flickered to the closet desperately. So far the magician had yet to notice Daniel there. It gave Carson a shred of hope.

“Why are you doing this?” Carson croaked. 

“It’s my job to get rid of people like you,” the man answered honestly. “Your magic may be able to sway life and death but it can’t even begin to control what is and isn’t.” He wasn’t just talking about destroying something, he was talking about wiping it from existence.

Carson knew now that if he had any chance of fighting the guy he’d have to do it the old-fashioned way. With what little strength he had, Carson lunged toward the kitchen hoping to find some kind of weapon to defend himself with. The magician wasn’t going to make it that easy though and he caught up with Carson effortlessly. 

A boot collided with the back of his leg, sending him tumbling into the cupboard. Pain raced through Carson’s back as he stared up at the man helplessly. Did he plan to kill him right then and there? Was he going to take his magic away? Was the dark power of death really not enough to protect him? The man simply stood there, looking down at Carson curiously. It was clear he wasn’t in any kind of rush. Attempting to crawl away was futile and yet he found himself doing it anyway. 

“Go ahead, keep fighting,” he smirked. Carson knew the man was just humoring him as he watched him struggle just to drag his body back towards the living room where the front door was still wide open. It was right there. If he could just make it to…

Ice. That’s what it felt like. The pain now radiating through his back was similar to the pain you feel from holding your hand in ice water for too long. It was present and powerful and yet Carson could tell he wasn’t fully registering what had just happened. Because there was no ice, what cut through his back just now was actually a knife, maybe 5 inches long. The more Carson tried to wrap his mind around it the more he felt himself slipping. The wound flared white-hot every time he breathed. This injury wouldn’t be enough to kill him, most likely the magician just did it to keep him from running away. As his movements slowed to a stop, Carson knew he had succeeded at just that. He couldn’t pick himself up off the floor, he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream for help. The only thing he could do was turn his head to the side facing the closet door. With one cheek pressed against the dirty beige carpet, he stared at that door for as long as he could keep his eyes open. Daniel had kept his promise and stayed perfectly silent. Carson was actually proud of him. Even though his vision was darkening at an alarming speed and the sound of nearby sirens blended in with the ringing in his ears, Carson could let go knowing Daniel would be safe. 

----

Daniel held his hands tightly over his mouth, urging himself to stay quiet. He wanted to scream and cry and hit something but all he could do was stand there and watch. Every muscle in his body flexed tight as he struggled to stay still. Tears streamed from his eyes as it all unfolded in front of him. He had texted their location to the police but beyond that, there was nothing he could do to help. The powerlessness welling up in his chest soured with anger. Whether it was toward the magician or himself he didn’t know. All he knew was that each time he wanted to open the closet door and put himself in front of Carson, he remembered the promise he made. 

The sound of sirens faded in as the police got closer to the apartment building, but Daniel knew it was already too late. Blood soaked through Carson’s coat where the knife had gone in and slowly dripped to form a puddle underneath him. He wasn’t healing, why the hell wasn’t he healing?! 

With the police closing in, the magician had no choice but to run, and to Daniel’s horror, he made sure to take Carson with him. 

[breakingsomething]

aftermath

basic summary: marvin swears he’s fine after returning from anti. henrik finds out that’s not the case.

trigger warnings: abuse mentions, brief suicide mention

henrik was having a hard time keeping up with marvin.

before he’d left to go with anti, his and marvin’s relationship had been clear. henrik didn’t like marvin; he thought he was an arrogant, self absorbed prick. marvin had made it obvious the feeling was mutual. their brothers just sighed and tried to keep them away from each other when they could, although that didn’t stop them from making sly comments and spitting insults at the other at every opportunity. they didn’t like each other. that was it, plain and simple.

now that marvin had returned, he was a goddamn roulette wheel.

he spent a lot of time in his room. henrik had gone in there a few times to patch up his wounds which were, while not severe, still necessary to fix, but marvin had freaked out and forced him away, screaming and summoning flames that burned uncontrollably in his hands. jackie was too overwhelmed to help, so chase was forced to talk marvin down, soothing him from the side of the room until henrik could get close enough to assess the damage. even then, marvin had refused to let henrik see under his shirt, almost growling every time he tried to look and burning his hands when he touched him. jackie later told him why, told him about the scars on marvin’s wrists that he didn’t want anyone seeing, which henrik supposed he understood. he had scars from his time with anti that he never let anyone look at either. that was fair.

but when marvin wasn’t pushing people away or hiding in the storage cupboard (chase had found him sleeping in there once and nearly had a heart attack), he was being extremely overly clingy, latching onto the nearest person and not letting go. and by nearest person, henrik meant anyone but him. jackie, of course, got the brunt of it; marvin would lay on his chest for hours and protest tearfully whenever he tried to move, or sit next to him almost attached at the hip and get up whenever jackie did so. it was exhausting, jackie confided in him. “i feel bad talking behind his back,” he confessed one day about two weeks after marvin’s return. “especially to you, cause of, well, y’know. i feel bad because, like, of course i’ve missed him as well, but i can’t be attached to him all the time. i don’t want marvin to feel like i don’t want him around or anything.”

“he will have to learn you can’t be around him constantly,” henrik said firmly. “you have a life outside of him.”

“but he was- he was fucking tortured, hen.” jackie fretted. “i can’t just-”

“hey,” henrik said, softening a bit. “i will help him to the best of my abilities, even if he doesn’t want me to. ok?” jackie hesitated, and henrik reached out to pat his shoulder awkwardly. “go do your thing. i will look after him.”

as much as he hated to admit it, henrik was probably the best person for marvin to be around at the moment. jackie was dealing with his own ruined mental health, and chase was still mourning his children. henrik was the only other one who had spent time with anti, albeit only for about three months as opposed to marvin’s twelve. he would understand what he was going through better than anyone else. that was how he ended up home alone with marvin one morning, drinking coffee in the kitchen and working up the courage to go and try to talk to him.

as it turned out, he didn’t have to; after only ten minutes of pacing and burning his tongue, marvin came downstairs himself. he looked miserable. his hair was loose around his shoulders, looking like he hadn’t brushed it in weeks, and he was wearing one of jackie’s black hoodies with stained trackie bottoms. henrik wondered how long it must have been since he’d washed as he set his coffee down and leaned casually against the counter.

“morning,” he greeted with false cheer in his voice. marvin didn’t respond, and grabbed a glass from the cupboard next to henrik and filled it up with water.

he tried again. “how- how are you feeling this morning?”

marvin turned to him so suddenly henrik jumped a bit. “oh my god, you know you don’t have to be super nice to me just cause of- i’m not fucking fragile, i- fucking hell, can’t you just shout like you normally do? just- just stop acting so fucking weird!”

“hey, i am- i’m trying to help you!” henrik said angrily, crossing his arms. why  was marvin so angry all of a sudden? “i am not the one being an asshole right now-”

“fuck, just shut up!” marvin cried, dropping his cup into the sink with a clatter. he nearly doubled over, grabbing the sink’s edge tightly.

“i thought you wanted me to shout at you,” henrik said, much quieter this time. he straightened and moved to where marvin was now shaking, covering his mouth with one hand. “are you…”

“don’t,” marvin gasped. he stood and grabbed at his hair, making like he was pulling it into a ponytail then letting it go again. “god, just shut the fuck up for fucking once.”

henrik threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “well, what- what do you want from me, marvin?” he had thought he’d be the best person for marvin at this moment in time, but had forgotten how extremely impatient and easily angered he was. “i just want to try and help!”

“i don’t fucking want help from you!” marvin screeched, before pushing himself off from the counter and racing from the room, leaving henrik much more confused and frustrated than he had been before. he listened as marvin stomped up the stairs and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

henrik did want to help him. that much was true. but he was a surgeon, not a therapist, and was maybe not the most empathetic of people. henrik was more accustomed to dealing with chase, who responded in very different ways from marvin- mostly with tears and self deprecation, to which henrik brought him water and tissues and held him for as long as he needed. marvin wasn’t like that, apparently. he thought about calling jackie and asking how he dealt with marvin’s bad moods, before remembering he was seeing his therapist and he would only make him worry. henrik eventually decided to just wait it out, to sit and wait until marvin calmed down and he could talk to him again.

he shouldn’t have left him alone. henrik figured that since he was only sitting on the living room couch on his computer, marvin would be fine, of course he would be fine. he put on his headphones- second mistake- and listened to music while he sorted out his emails for the first time in months. that took up about an hour, and when henrik eventually closed his laptop to get up and eat he instantly noticed how dead silent the house was. maybe marvin’s asleep, he thought uneasily, before remembering that their upstairs bathroom made a loud creaking sound when opened, one that henrik would have heard even with his music on. marvin hadn’t yet left the bathroom.

fear instantly surged through him as he bolted up the stairs, whipping round the corner to confirm that yes, the bathroom door was locked and someone was definitely inside. he could hear small gasping sobs and a sudden loud clattering of something being thrown in the sink. all of this reminded henrik of a day long ago that he’d prefer to forget- the day he’d come home from a shift at the hospital only to find a note of the door of chase’s recording room telling him not to come inside, to call the police, the stench of blood filling the air. henrik pushed the thought from his mind and knocked frantically, noticing how all the noise instantly stopped as soon as he did so. “marvin?” he said shakily, trying to keep his voice gentle. “marvin, are you ok?”

the only sound was a muffled whimper, and dread filled henrik’s chest. “marvin. have you hurt yourself? you have to tell me honestly, marvin. please, i’m not trying to hurt you.”

more clattering, more strangled sobs. then, very quietly, “no.”

henrik didn’t believe him. “ok,” he breathed, and silently reached into his pocket for a coin. “marvin, i’m gonna have to come in.”

“what? no, no, don’t!” there was a very loud crash. henrik hadn’t wanted to have to to this, but judging from the sounds inside, something bad was going on. fear chilled his body as he pushed the coin into the lock and turned it- a trick he’d learned when chase has broken the bathroom door that one time. he threw the door open, heart pounding, only to see-

for a moment, nothing. the first thing he noticed was that the shower curtain had been half ripped off, and henrik could clearly see marvin shaking underneath it. he was about to race over to him when his eyes took in the full picture. bottles and boxes from the medicine cabinet and the side of the sink were strewn across the floor, evidently knocked over. there was a pair of scissors on the sink. and there was hair, great clumps of dark brown hair all over the floor and the sink and the bathtub, where marvin hadn’t moved from since henrik ran in.

his fear dissipated, to be replaced with an ache in his heart that he couldn’t quite name. still almost high off the adrenaline, he slowly picked his way across the floor to the bath. “hey, hey, i’m not going to do anything.” marvin was making muffled sounds from underneath the curtain, gasping and wheezing desperately. henrik felt like he himself was hurting with him.

“i’m going to take the curtain off,” henrik said softly, to which marvin cried “no, please don’t,” and somehow drew even further into himself.

“i have to, ok?” fingers numb, henrik grabbed a fold of the curtain and very gently pulled it away to reveal marvin, trembling with his face in his knees and hands over his head like was he still trying to hide. henrik swallowed, then crouched next to the bathtub and leaned over.

“do you think you can sit up?” henrik asked, and marvin slowly sat up, his arms sliding down to hug himself as he looked henrik with eyes full of tears. there was no immediate signs of blood or paling or any of the other symptoms henrik was looking for that would indicate he had hurt himself, so he instead focused on what appeared to be the real problem here. marvin had clearly not bothered to take his time with his work- his hair was, in some places, just short uneven stubs, sticking straight out like he’d been electrified. in other places it was longer, with bits hacked off carelessly, some parts of his head bleeding a little from marvin not being careful with the scissors. marvin flinched as henrik reached out and wiped a bit of blood away before it could slide into marvin’s eyes.

“short hair suits you.” henrik finally said. marvin didn’t move. he shrunk away when henrik tried to touch his hair, attempting to clean more blood. 

“i’m sorry,” marvin gasped, trembling. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i wanted it off, please don’t hurt him, he didn’t know, he can put it back, p-please, don’t hurt him-”

“listen!” henrik threw all caution and climbed into the tub with marvin, sitting on his knees in front of him. marvin scrambled backwards, only stopping when he was pressed into the wall, wide eyed. “marvin, it’s me, not anti, i’m not going to hurt-” realization struck henrik. “i’m not going to hurt dapper.”

marvin was breathing heavily and quickly, his eyes darting back and forth as he rubbed his shoulders, trying to push himself further back. henrik recognized the signs of an oncoming panic attack and sat back, giving him some space. “it’s ok, marvin,” he murmured as marvin hyperventilated, sobbing and holding himself tight.

about half an hour passed before henrik could even get close to marvin, close enough to gently pat his hands, then to trace circles on his shoulder, then to wrap his arms fully around him, marvin’s face buried in his chest as he cried and shook. henrik whispered meaningless words, trying to calm him down, and eventually it worked enough that marvin’s choked sobs quietened and stopped, his body stilling in his brother’s arms. henrik let marvin sit up, his face burning with embarrassment, and wordlessly the doctor handed him a tissue from his pocket. he waited while marvin blew his nose, then looked up with uncertainty on his face. “sorry about- sorry about your shirt.”

yes, his shirt was soaked with tears and snot and a few small patches of blood, wasn’t it. “do not worry about that of all things. can you just- can you tell me what happened?” marvin let out a shaky sigh and hiccuped. he stayed silent.

then, “didn’t like it long.” he paused. “anti liked it long. he didn’t let me cut it.”

“oh.” henrik said. it was all he could think of to say.

but it appeared that once marvin had started, he couldn’t stop. “anti loved my long hair, he liked to stroke it and brush it and told me how p-pretty it was. i tried to cut it, but anti caught me and got so upset, he had dapper rewind it and i didn’t remember but dapper did, anti did, i don’t know how anti did, but he hurt dapper, he- he tied him back with that rope, so he was stuck in one corner of our room, and i wasn’t allowed to go talk to him. i hated him touching it. i don’t like anyone touching it now, it just feels like him, it just feels like i’m being- like i’m with him again.”

“oh,” henrik repeated. “is that why… you cut it yourself?”

“yes,” marvin sobbed, his voice almost higher pitched. “i don’t want him to make me put it back, i don’t want it, don’t let him make me-”

“calm down, calm down,” henrik reassured before marvin would spiral again. he paused. “it is a bit of a mess right now.”

“i know,” marvin moaned miserably.

henrik’s legs were going numb. he sat down properly, cursing himself for not doing so earlier and sparing himself the pain. “you know, when finn and luka were young, luka cut finn’s hair. i don’t know what he was thinking.” he chuckled. “luka was six, and finn was four.”

marvin wiped his eyes and kept looking away, but henrik could tell he was listening. “finn didn’t like the hairdressers. he didn’t like strangers being near him at all, much less touching him, so when emilie said he had to get his hair fixed, he freaked out. so i cut his hair for him.”

marvin finally glanced up, curious. “you can cut hair?" 

henrik smiled. "well, i couldn’t then. i have a very steady hand and a good eye, though. it wasn’t hard on little finn, he turned out very ok. emilie liked it.” marvin sniffled and ran his hands along the pattern on the tub’s bottom. henrik did the same, the sensation calming him.

“are you suggesting you fix my hair?” marvin asked uncertainly. “because i- even with you, i- there’s a reason i didn’t go to a hairdressers, i don’t trust myself not to freak-”

henrik put a hand over marvin’s, just gently. he looked at him closely, noticing how he had almost stopped shaking. “i am your brother, like it or not. not some random stranger. you can trust me.”

marvin whimpered, and pulled his hands back from henrik to cover his mouth. his eyes fluttered closed and he let his head smack into the taps.

“what do you think?” henrik asked patiently. “i need your consent, marvin.”

a deep intake of breath. “ok. but please be careful.”

“i will,” henrik promised before fetching the scissors from the sink.

marvin stayed as still as a rock, barely breathing as henrik attempted to make the hacked clumps of hair somewhat even. “i’m sorry that i can’t really ask you what kind of haircut you’d like,” henrik joked lightly. “i don’t have much to work with here.”

evidently henrik was more used to dealing with chase, because the joke that he’d expected to lighten the mood just made marvin’s eyes fill with tears again. he blinked rapidly and rubbed his face, not making a sound.

henrik decided to change tactics. “look, i know we generally do not like each other.”

marvin let out a sudden laugh, startling henrik. “straight to the point as always, hen.”

henrik tilted marvin’s head. “yes, well. i think we should maybe- maybe try and get along a little better. for both our sakes. you know? being assholes is just so time consuming. i don’t have time for that in the day.”

“really? you only wanna stop hating me cause it’s time consuming?” marvin asked scathingly.

“i did not mean it like that.” henrik was very bad at this. “i don’t believe this is helping either of us. i was with anti for three months. i am the only other one here that would understand what you are going through. i think-”

“fuck off,” marvin snapped. “you were- henrik, you were fucking tortured with anti. i wasn’t. i went there willingly. you went there kicking and screaming after being possessed trying to save our creator. i don’t deserve any reassurance or anything.”

henrik couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “you honestly believe-” he lowered the scissors and looked marvin in the eyes- “you honestly believe that your trauma is less valid because you made a mistake that led to your abuse?”

“it wasn’t abuse at all!” marvin protested. henrik began to clip at the top of his hair, which had thankfully been left a little longer. “anti treated me… nicely. really nicely.” he went silent. “me and dapper were more spoiled than anything.”

“really.” henrik said flatly. “from what you have told me, you were not exactly having a good time there.”

marvin shifted, causing henrik to accidentally cut a bit too short. “i don’t know. ok? i don’t know. just- shut up, please.”

henrik finished in silence.

when they were done, henrik stepped out of the bathtub and pulled marvin out with him, both of them unsteady from so long barely moving. “do you want to see?” henrik offered.

“i guess i have to sooner or later.” marvin let go of henrik’s shoulder and took a breath before looking up at the mirror above the sink. for a moment he was completely silent, starting at his dark hair that had been cut extremely short on the sides, slightly longer on top and sticking up slightly. then his face crumpled and he buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“what’s wrong?” henrik asked, alarmed. “is it bad?”

“no, no,” marvin sobbed. “it’s fine. but it’s all gone, i somehow didn’t except it to all be-”

“here,” henrik said gently, leading him out the bathroom. they could clean up the mess later. “let’s go fix your head. you scratched your scalp a few times, you did not even notice. i’ll get my things.”

half an hour later they were both on the couch in front of the tv, marvin with his knees pulled up too his chest as far from henrik as he could be. henrik decided to turn the tv on, hoping it would help to clear the air. “what do you want to watch?”

“you’re really- after all that, you’re not gonna- we’re just gonna watch tv?” marvin said, confused.

henrik set the remote down. “do you want to talk about anti?”

marvin slumped down on the couch, defeated. “don’t know. not much to say, is there?” he sighed and closed his eyes.

henrik thought carefully about how to phrase what he wanted to say. “i believe that maybe you should go to therapy.”

marvin snorted. henrik slid along the couch to be next to him, but not so close that he flinched away. “really, it is very helpful! me and jackie and chase all go, and it has done us… what is the phrase? the only word i can think of is ‘magnificence.’”

“wonders,” marvin muttered. “done you wonders.”

“exactly!” henrik exclaimed, slightly too enthusiastically. then, more gently, “trust me, marvin. it will help you a lot with coming to terms with- everything.” when marvin didn’t reply, henrik delivered his trap card. “it was the only thing that kept jackie sane while you were away.”

marvin winced, looking out the window across the room. after a tense silence, he sat back, flopping his legs out in front of him. “fine. i’ll try it. for jackie,” he said hurriedly. “not for you.”

henrik smiled. “i would expect nothing more.”

to his immense surprise, marvin leaned over and rested his head on henrik’s shoulder. “can we watch it’s always sunny?” he murmured. “i can’t be bothered to do anything today.”

henrik softened, about to run his fingers through marvin’s hair like he would to chase before deciding not to push his luck. “yeah. yeah, let’s put that on.”

when jackie and chase came home later that day, they were both greeted with the same surprise- henrik and marvin, curled up on the couch almost on top of one another, marvin’s hair considerably shorter than when they had last seen it, netflix playing quietly in the background. “awww,” chase cooed, a grin spreading across his face. “lemme take a picture of this and never let them forget it happened.”

jackie examined them both, noting the tearstains on marvin’s face, henrik’s and wrapped round him. “glad they’re getting along,” jackie murmured, gently ruffling marvin’s hair. it felt weird, it being so short- he wondered why marvin had decided to cut it, and why he had been crying. internally, he thanked the gods henrik had the strength to deal with marvin. 

“hey, jackie?” chase called from the upstairs hall. “what the fuck happened to the bathroom?”

[nvcl347]

G-man x Female Reader : Toll

When all she had on her mind was the trickling sentiment of eyes at every ridge of her view, the impending false sense of security submerged her room, immersing her with it from head to toe. She was stalking her room for hours in series, anticipating a clandestine company that never arrived at her door. Contrary to her belief, she wasn’t expecting the visitor. The visitor was awaiting her.

Every gait aligned itself to the pulse of a silent clicking pandemonium, fretting every moment for the clock to strike its bell and holler out the final toll. She was so focused on the paragon of her saunter, she omitted the wavering of her breath, shuttering like a plucked acoustic string thawing out a rich, fading octave. There were moments where a clutch of oxygen seemed to persist for minutes apart, striving to savor the last few flutters of life’s air she had.

The sensory feeling of punctured pleasure spiked through her inner evergreen of nerves, jolting her fingertips with energy and rushing her feet with adrenaline. Acclivities of goosebumps rose about her exposed forearms in coalition with the individual, yet myriad threads of hair rising on every edge, twist, and turn of her skin. Each part of her body seemed to have its own sentience with a distinctive scream which beckoned her of nearby danger. The awareness of dread loomed over its appealing touch, sparking the strongest urge to run for her lasting days than she had ever before. Someone had entered the room with her. The one wall holding the inherent multitude of voices back was her head.

Still as stone, stiff as a statue; She refused to move. The one thing that her obstinate, impulsive instinct didn’t know that her head did was the adverse consequence of running. She was better off cultivating a chamber to her head if she had the chance, but there was nothing she could do. Lightweight objects and blissful swaying fabrics rose in the air as anti-gravity relapsed the area around her, and a tall daunting presence approached her from behind through the home of his shadows. A wounded mouse, pricked to an intricate snare, caught red-handed. If there was a hint of sensible mercy to be found, even a morsel of it, she would have felt it. But the feast was swept bare and clean of its dining, and the leftovers were fed to dogs. There was nothing left for her to provide or to be provided. The clock struck the hour, and the bell has rung.

“I would have commended you of your efforts-- Ms. (L/N)-- if you had not made them so dire,” it was the one voice in the world that truly distraught her to the thicket of her bone. It was treacherous and inhuman, yet the words conveyed were distinct and concise. Sharp rests and lingering pauses almost felt like notes he stalled to scrutinize her immediate appearance. The verdict of her survival was held just out of reach. He affirmed no wish in addressing her toll just yet, unclear of whether it was by his executive behalf or of his intimate muse. The air sucked itself out of the room she stood in and emptied into the vacuum of vacant space. Everything around her engulfed into his dark umbra until there was nothing that could be defined in its shade, left to wander the void that was his home. A peculiar miasma of weariness seeped through her head as if she’d traveled infinite miles to the sun and back in the period of only a few seconds.

“The apprehension inside of you seems to... undervalue the adverse circumstances you have spawned for my employers,” the judge of her fate articulated, looming right behind her shoulder and taunting to her ear, speaking towards the left yet hearing… and feeling it through her right. She refused to move even a modest length by her heel. His chest ever so slightly pressed against her shoulder blades, wrenching her guts inside out with a raucous, shuddering wheeze she didn’t realize she let out. An inadvertent rush of alarming rapture jolted through her veins to back away, but she dared not move from where she was. A rasping, malevolent snicker escaped his lips, casually leaning away from her in order to circle forward to where she stood at her front. An act of relishing meaning so little to a predator yet so much to prey.

She found that his footsteps were so consistent with themselves to the extent that he must have attained more value in studying his own rhythmic pace than he found in her character at all. The internal trembling sensation clattered her to the gist and stripped to the outer skin for him to see as distinguished as the illuminating ebony of a harvest moon.

The pale of his facial grimace rooted to the palms of his wrists, gently stroking between each other in the suspense for something he’s been waiting to ascertain this moment for a massive remote age of his time. He paused himself to contain his thoughts as he stopped in front of her line of sight. He has never presented himself in further immediate, direct influence and control over an individual than he has now. 

“They have entrusted of me to, do away of your presence by means without authoritative jurisdiction. Your performance of deviance, although admirable, has dragged you into a pit of... profound consequence I’m afraid I cannot assist in leverage,” her form was laughably dwarfed by his size, forcing her to crook her head almost up to the ceiling to face his gleaming turquoise eyes if she tried with the petty vitality of courage she had. Her teeth chattered like drums in her head at the fleet tremolo of her anxious respiration. A forced retreat of a foot from behind her settled no advanced measure away from him as he stepped forward in his satin Oxfords. The tender pat of his footwear solely was audibly louder than her own panting gasps, forwarding the coercion held inside her chest at a knife on one’s throat. The single act alone was enough to split her emotional cage into two. 

An intangible energy hauled the pitiful martyr to her knees as her legs melted away into the water of her coaxing tears. A trivial act of mourning for empathy, something he’d never undergone from a hire before. The soft gleam in his sea-green optics repulsed attentively, examining the display before him as all but a licensed dismissive, yet intriguing in the slightest. A meager hum encapsulated through his senile throat as he arched himself over her cowering, diminutive form. From her perspective, stating it was too close for her alluring amenities would be an exceeding understatement.

As his profile drew near, the touch of chilling hoarfrost punctured at her skin. His navy executive attire exalted the enigmatic aura which seemed to timelessly encapsulate him like a dense, secluded bubble she’d crossed within. The bitter draft nearly congealed her watering eyes into place, but just enough to steady their progress down her swollen jowls. She scorned to gaze directly at him by her own will, bestowing upon him the scarce sum of rebellion she had left inside her wilted core.

“Such a delicate spirit couldn’t bear the rash opposition of your careless actions,” his head tipped to its side, treating himself the manifestation of sympathy with tenacities as genuine as a puppet show. He leisurely delivered forward his chilling, ivory hand, relaxing the flat edge of his knuckle hinges below her jawline. A maneuver avowed so benevolently, yet the intention concealed beneath its tender surface did anything but console her situation. She seized a rigid swallow lighter than a feather caressing the draft of the area around them. Every hint of muscle movement endeavored to hinder less than a single spark from igniting a harrowing fuse. She nudged his hand away out of mortification to draw herself back, only to be promptly tailgated by the fleeting switch of a fixed, almost painful grip on her chin. He could press the flustered clatter of her teeth against his fingertips, a noticeably venerable appearance of his exposed features formulating a benign yet sinister grin.

“I would consider yourself of good fortune, Ms. (L/N), as my employers are not so tolerant of hires as I am myself... Perhaps this brief exchange between us will formally bestow your place,” as he expressed his honest ambitions towards her, he slowly mounted his hand against her mandible, raising her head up to his for a face-to-face discussion. As a genuine nexus clasped between their two lines of sight, his eyes flashed in tone once again, locking her in a trance that confined her of any moveable suspension. It was as if she was staring into the eyes of a living sleep paralysis demon from her childhood, somehow impossibly more menacing than its form of a dark, slim silhouette; A devil’s advocate, now free of his fiery shackles and roaming autonomous of hell’s cavity.

“I cannot withdraw your line of hire unobstructedly without a form of, well-- discipline, for the mess of work you’ve caused,” the faint graze of his chuckle against her face twirled her locks of hair as it did her sense of sanctuary to smothering extents, choking it dry of whatever was left of it in her prior. Every hint of forthcoming inclination directed towards her was cunning and calculated. No matter how she attempted to crook and tie her path for herself, he knew precisely where and when to take her to reach his desires from each stray she exerted. 

Softly, she clenched her eyelids shut as the indivisible set of nerves she had restraint over in her body, thrusting a tear to escape from her swelling socket. Dripping onto the palm of his hand, he was quick to retract his grip in candid wonder. A heavy, deep breath revoked through her nostrils as she exhibited physical control emancipate through her once again, not daring to move in the state he had left her in before. Inspecting what had made contact with his skin, his sneer dissolved into a twitch of his muzzle as the tiny droplet of emotion flowed about the dead facade of his flesh. A melodious hum escaped his lips in consideration, resonating deep in the back of her mind as if it had emitted from all around her. Tilting his wrist at an angle rippled the water away into a state of vapor, sweeping into air’s fluttering garments around them. Lowering his hand, his attention glimpsed back to her, whose eyes were still closed but had proceeded to quiver after gaining control over herself again. Naive and fragile as a newborn, trapped inside a young woman. The body has grown but the nature has not.

A sharp, pitched breath seeped through him as he fixed himself to his proper posture, leaning away from her frightful profile. His eyebrows furrowed into an unapologetic glare, taking a brief time of himself to study her figure from neck to toe. He allowed for hands to gradually drape at his sides, dulling out of her line of sight as he adjusted his tie into place.

“I am sorry to say that I could not find a more suitable place for you to stay without… excruciating pain involved and endured. As a consequence, however, your time spent here will transpire much, much longer than you may find solace in,” his omniscient voice spoke around her from every which way she could turn her head. He seemed to peek into a snowglobe housing a poor nuisance inside who could not see him through the glass above.

“I assure you, my dear, this will not be the last time we cross paths. But in the meantime, I have others waiting on my watch I must attend to...”

Sensing a change in presence, she finally peered through to what was in her front line of sight with utmost hesitance in her choice. What was a puffed chest of fear suddenly converged into a sensory overload of confusion. He’d disappeared, not a trace of him left except for the memory stapled into her head. A quick glance to her back to check her surroundings found him nowhere at any angle of her position. She was truly alone.

It didn’t take much for her to jolt for her feet, who’d solidified the courage to support her weight once again. Her breath was sparse and fleeting as she tried to keep up with its pace, but it felt as if it had been running miles for hours without a chance of letting her ever catch up. Her hands gripped into twitching fists, swallowing a bite of pride she could snatch from the air. Her teeth nearly snapped like twigs as they clenched together in pure and remote agitation. He was playing with her like a child’s Christmas toy. Choking on her own sob, she stuttered to herself the first words she could manage to voice through her lips to him.

“H-- hey! Where did you go!?” her voice cracked on itself as everything began to disintegrate around her into a fretful weep.

They never reached him.

“Don’t! Please god don’t leave me here!” as her wails left her to dissociate into an empty space, her lips began to tremble. She covered her mouth with the palm of her hands, hiding her disordered lament from a source nowhere to be seen. It was a void hell disguised as her limbo, isolated from all worlds, all dimensions. An empty pocket universe, built as all but a cage that only he had access to. Not even his employers knew of its existence, nor could it ever come of their reach.

The clock struck the hour, and the bell has rung twice. The G-man has woven the toll.

It has been five years since (Y/N)’s verdict.

[disbestiles-blog]

baby voice

noah centineo x reader 

word count: 2,496

a/n: this all started with this interview. I'm just saying, I can't handle with Noah anymore, one more cute and hot thing about this bastard I'm gonna explode, really. While I'm still alive, here one more story. I hope that you liked, byeeee

warnings: once that you hear about the baby voice you'll never forget it so get ready

When the bell rang that afternoon Y/N was totally surprised. She wasn't expecting anyone and couldn't think of a soul that would even visit her that day. The only person who came to her house without warning was Noah, but he wasn't an option since they had decided to take time in the relationship a week ago.

It all started when she won a job promotion a month ago at the advertising agency she worked for. She would have a better salary, a room for her, flexible hours, and get rid of various bureaucratic services that would be done by her new assistant.

Of course, Noah was the first person to share her happiness. They had been together for 8 months but still, everything was in perfect harmony. Not even the extremely busy schedule and all the attention he's been getting in recent months due to the release of the new movies had shaken them both. It was amazing to have such a sweet and amusing person at his side and Noah could do nothing but feel extremely loved when he was with her. The chemistry between them was clear from the first time they met in a bar, casually. Since then, things happened naturally and they didn't even realize they spent almost all of their free time together.

Y/N was in the clouds until she was told she would have to move from Miami to the agency's headquarters in Chicago. From that moment, the dream became a nightmare. The possibility of having to deal with a long-distance dating or dating termination wiped out the entire honeymoon phase of her relationship with Noah.

She didn't want to break up but at that moment taking a break seemed to be a more sensible attitude to take. In another situation, she would break without a second thought. "Personal dreams and goals first," that was her mantra. But her feelings for Noah were taking more and more space in her heart, and although she knew it he would never approve of her being annulled for him, she knew that what she felt was too strong to just throw it out loud.

That was the reason she had chosen that day just to rest and forget about life. She needed to have her head in place before making any decision and relaxing eating popcorn and watching movies was the best way to do that. However, her biggest concern at ringing the bell was the fact that Netflix was paused, making it clear to anyone who entered what she was watching. Not that she was ashamed to watch teenage romantic comedies, but that was a very specific romantic comedy and she didn't need anyone to judge her by watching her boyfriend's movies while they were taking a break.

So she ran into the living room, balancing a huge bowl of popcorn and a can of juice in her arms and turned off the TV. She wrapped her arms around her pajamas as if it would make it less rumpled and walked toward the door. She still hoped it was just the receiver or some neighbor asking for information, but to her surprise, when she opened the door she noticed that the romantic comedy had come off the TV because in front of her she was in the flesh, the boy with the not so handsome face but angelic, Peter K., better known by her as her future ex-boyfriend, Noah Centineo.

Noah felt relieved as Y/N finally opened the door. She was wearing one of several pajamas in her collection, her hair totally messed up as if she had been kneading the couch all day. He thought it amazing how she could look so cute when he knew that in fact, she was like a mother lioness that no one wanted to make nervous. Y/N was paralyzed at the door, not moving at least a finger, trying to assimilate if it was even Noah who was standing there. He decided to break the silence that hung between them.

"Can I come in?" Noah said giving a faint smile awkwardly.

Y/N blinked quickly as if she had returned from the lunar journey she had made in those seconds.

"What are you doing here?" She said crossing her arms, her harmless expression quickly fading and giving way to her Hulk version.

"I'm here to talk and you know we need to." He answered, his gaze practically begging her not to complain.

Y/N took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, whispering just an "okay," opening the door completely to him.

Just a quick glance made Noah realize he hadn't been the only one to make the apartment an anti-world shelter. He stood between the living room and the kitchen just following Y/N with a glance as she grabbed a bowl of popcorn and soda from the couch and led them back into the kitchen. It looks like she was through with the popcorn session.

"So? You came here so you should start this conversation." She said arching her eyebrows.

"Okay." He snorted, smiling. She was impossible when she was on the defensive. "I don't want to stay away from you anymore."

"It's not like I'm pushing you away, we're both agreed with this decision." Y/N shrugged, "and stop to do your baby voice when we're talking about something serious."

"I'm not doing a baby voice. I'm kinda sick."

Just then Y/N realized that he was pale and still wearing sweatpants during the day. She would have realized as soon as he arrived if she had not been avoiding him.

"Oh, sorry. Are you taking medicine?" She asked awkwardly, feeling bad for the way she had treated him.

"Nah ... not really."

Y/N widened her eyes, worried.

"Why not? You can't do this, Noah! Do you know what you need? My grandma traditional tea."

"I agree but it's not like I have the recipe or you to prepare me," Noah answered making Y/N thought for a few seconds.

He didn't want to make her feel guilty but she wasn't even responding to his texts, how would he ask for a tea recipe? Y/N took a deep breath.

"Okay, take that spray, it'll help a little with the curse while I make the tea." She said holding him a nasal spray that was in her closet and taking some things to make tea.

"Huh ... can you make tea for me to take home? It's just that we have not talked yet and I get kinda sleepy when I take medicine."

Noah was being so sincere and seemed so vulnerable with his pale, tired face that Y/N could think of only one solution.

"Okay," she cleared her throat, "what do you think of a truce? I'll make the tea, you take it with an aspirin, get some rest, and then we'll talk."

"Bine," he replied faintly and a little more smiling, making her smile too.

Noah lay down on the couch and turned on the TV while Y/N was making tea in the kitchen. She would have stopped him but when she realized it was too late. He had already opened Netflix on TV and found nothing but TATBTILB pausing in the app, the proof of her crime stamped on the screen.

"Looks like someone has not gotten over Peter K. yet, huh?" Noah said, teasing her.

"I love Lana Condor." Y/N replied rolling her eyes.

Noah laughed and decided to just take a nap while she finished preparing what appeared to be a mix of leaves and herbs. He had been exhausted from the time he had woken up, trying to let the pain not bother him, but lying there on Y/N’s couch he just let his body relax completely. After a few minutes, Y/N came up to him, holding out a large glass filled with a green liquid and an aspirin. Noah swallowed all the tea and though it was lukewarm, it wasn't as bad as it looked.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N." He replied smiling, already feeling slightly better.

"Any time."

"Now ..." Noah said with a mischievous smile, giving play in the movie that Y/N had grown tired of watching during the week.

"You don't have to watch, really. I was just bored." She said trying to make him change his mind. They had already watched the movie together before but she didn't think it would be appropriate while she was trying to avoid Noah let him realize she was still sighing for him in every scene.

"Oh, but I want to. I love Lana, too." He replied ironically referring to his castmate.

"Okay, you win." Y/N sighed, nodding. Actually, she wasn't that tired.

For 1 hour and 39 minutes, Noah and Y/N were in completely silent, just enjoying the lovely romance of Netflix. It was incredible how even though she had attended thousands of times, she always found herself distressed by each scene, sighing over the couple that formed through each event and celebrating when they finally had their happy ending. As the credits climbed onto the screen, Y/N made her considerations and wondered once more what the continuation would be like.

"I know people think differently but for me, Peter has been liking LJ since they were together for the party because, you know, when they leave and she says she's not afraid of him because they're just pretending, he was clearly upset." She said thinking aloud. "What do you think?"

It would be wonderful to see what the outcome of this debate would be, but Noah was out, his eyes closed as he slept soundly. Y/N caught herself smiling as she watched lying awkwardly on the couch too small for his height. She loved every detail of him, his brown hair purposely messed up, the way his innocent, sweet face contrasted with his muscular physique, the scar to the left of his jaw, something that didn't make him weird but made him seem more human, more achievable. She could spend hours just taking every second to list all the things she loved if Noah hadn't suddenly woken up.

He yawned, blinking for a few seconds until he became accustomed to the light again. Noah smiled at the realization that Y/N was still there. For some people one week could be little time, but for him, it had been the longest week of all. He didn't want to stay away from her. He didn't want to pass any second without the way she knew she could make him relax, how she knew the best advice. He missed the best hug, the endless laughter they gave together. He was aware of what it was like to have a different treatment. Where he went people wanted to please him, wanted to make him feel special. But with Y/N it was different. She didn't compliment Noah when he didn't need to, she didn't laugh at his jokes that weren’t funny, she didn't let him get away with something he did wrong because he needed him to smile for an interview. Being with her was being able to be himself and receive a sincere treatment for it, a genuine love from the first day he kissed her.

All those thoughts were frozen when he remembered that despite the mild weather, he was there to have a serious conversation with Y/N, and it needed to be now.

"Can we talk?" He asked, his face serious and worried this time.

"Sure." Y/N answered by adjusting on the sofa to sit facing him. She was tense.

"When are you moving?"

"When am I supposed to move if I accept the proposal? I don't know." She corrected him.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what? What are you waiting for?" Noah asked confused.

Y/N took a deep breath.

"I don't know. I think that I'm ... worried about what we're going to do."

"Our relationship can't stop you from doing this, Y/N. It's your dream job!"

"Yes, it is. I don't want to break up, though." Y/N finally said, startled as she realized the possibility she let slip out of her mouth.

"And why do we have to?" Noah asked with all the tranquility and sincerity of the world. He knew she would say that and he came prepared to fight.

"How are we going to make it work, Noah? It's not like we're in different neighborhoods and have unoccupied lives." Y/N  said distressed, her heart trembling as she tried to think positive.

Noah held it in his hands.

"It doesn't matter! I don't care if I have to get a plane or a car to see you when I'm leaving a recording or interview. We can do that, Y/N. "

"Yeah, but ... I'll be in Chicago, Noah. It's not going to be like you're leaving work and going home."

"Y/N, listen to me... You're my home, okay?! I don't care where you are, I'll always come after you, always. If you don't want to be with me anymore, I'll get it. But if you're saying that we can't do this because it's impossible or something I'll fight. You know why? Because we're worth it and you'd be lying if you tell me that you don't feel the same."

Y/N felt her heart melt completely. If there was still any doubt, some disturbing thought that still bothered her about their relationship, they had turned to dust at that moment. Her eyes watering when she grabbed Noah by the neck, hugging him tightly. Nothing could keep them away, and now she was more certain than ever.

Noah looked at her, smiling, his heart filled with relief and happiness. Contrary to what it seemed, he hadn't rehearsed or prepared anything, he just came after ensuring that the love of his life wasn't far away, they're just meant to be and he wasn't going to throw all those feelings out like it was nothing.

He pulled her into a kiss, their lips sliding under each other, warm and soft as it was the first time they were together. Y/N felt safe with Noah holding her close, his big arms protecting her from the world. Even when she was the one trying to sabotage herself. He could always find a way to make her see the truth.

When Noah stopped the kiss, she felt out of breath. Not only for the handsome man she was kissing, but for him always exceeding her expectations.

"Are we good now?" He asked with a faint smile.

"Yes, totally. You can do the baby voices again." She suggested. If there was one thing she loved about Noah, it was that he made foolish things cute and funny.

"Oh really? I love you, babe." He said, this time with the sweetest affected voice.

"And I love you too, Noey."

tag list: @brien-odylan @lara-stilinski

who’s dying with me??????? waiting in my ask, leggo / masterlist

[crowned-ladybug]

Take a Moment

Power went out for a bit over an hour last night while it was already getting dark out, so the only thing I could do was surround myself with every lightsource I could get my hands on and write. And because I had no inspiration for anything else or energy for longer things, I just bestowed my situation upon the characters.

Characters: Dark, Anti

Ship: Danti

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none.

The lights flicker once, twice before going out completely, shrouding the room in shade that slowly but surely gets darker as the sun sets. Dark raises his head and looks around mildly as if this was all just a minor inconvenience and not something halting his work and making the death of his laptop's battery inevitable. He leisurely saves his work and turns said laptop off before he stands from his desk. He needs to go see if it's just a fuse or something affecting the whole street, and he expects to run into Anti while he's there. To be fair, he's probably already lighting candles to help the situation. Well, here's to hoping they aren't all scented ones and that their living room doesn't end up smelling like a B category soap store.

The moment he steps out of his office, Dark is blinded by piercing white light from the other end of the hallway. Then he hears a hastily muttered "fuck, sorry", and once the light is directed at the ground instead, he can see Anti standing there with an apologetic smile. He has his phone on flashlight mode in one hand while his other arm is cradling three candles, all in glass cups. Dark doesn't want to know the chaos that would ensue if he dropped them.

"Power's out," Anti states the obvious once has made his way over to Dark stand in front of him, and he lets him take two of the candles without complaints. It's a shitty conversation starter, but oh well, at least it is one. "It made me feel fucking weird."

"You can sense fluctuations in electricity now?" Dark asks, trying to be casual but sounding more smug instead.

"No, but I guess all wifi and half the digital devices all around me dying all at once is bound to make me feel something," he rolls he eyes playfully, but doesn't much seem to care about Dark's tone. He looks at the candle still in his hand, then sniffs it (which includes actually bumping his nose into it, because he miscalculated the movement), then grimaces. "This doesn't even smell of anything. What a rip off."

Dark allows himself a small smile and obediently sniffs the candle too when Anti pushes it towards him. "Are you all right, though?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Anti says, nonchalant but genuine. He doesn't expect Dark to lean forward and press a quick kiss to his forehead though, at least not judging from the way his ears flick in surprise and joy. "What do you wanna do now?"

Dark stays silent for a moment, thinking. He can barely see anything anymore aside from Anti and the circle of light his phone paints onto the floor. Judging from the sirens wailing outside (how did he not hear them before?), the problem isn't only affecting their house. While there are no windows in the hallway, even in a room with natural light they will soon be in complete darkness without electricity. It's not a big enough problem to jump to someplace else though. Whether it lasts for five minutes or the whole night, they can wait it out.

"Let's just get comfortable in a room we can light up somewhat properly."

They end up withdrawing to their bedroom. Dark sits on the bed, leaning back against the pillows and trying to find a position that won’t hurt to move from. He keeps a good book nearby, but doesn’t open it yet. Anti had gone on an epic quest (his words) to retrieve the rest of the candles from the living room. Now he busies himself with lighting them all around the room, taking much joy in finding good places for each of them and briefly complaining about how the fairy lights above the bed need to be plugged in and don't work from batteries. Dark watches him go about his business fondly.

"Do you wanna tell ghost stories?" Anti asks with badly-veiled excitement in his voice as he places the last candle on the windowsill.

"If you would like. But you will be the one losing sleep because of them, not me."

Anti only gives an offended grunt in response, more so at the faint amusement in Dark's voice than his actual words. But he doesn't mention the ghost stories again, because Dark is indeed right, and for a powerful demon Anti can very much scare himself into insomnia by reading too many creepy things on the internet. Instead he flops onto the bed, sprawled on his stomach and taking up most of the space Dark has graciously left empty.

"Hey, Dark?" Anti starts again, one ear flicking as he lays his head sideways on the sheets.

"Hmm?"

"What do we do now?"

Dark sighs. "Anti, you're an adult, I'm sure you can-"

"No, I mean we," Anti pushes himself up to lean on his elbows, and the tiny trace of annoyance is already gone from his voice as he smiles. "Now that we've got the romantic lighting down, I wanna do something with you, not just...read or listen to music or whatever."

"Oh," Dark's face visibly softens and Anti is hit of a sudden wave of 'holy shit, look at him, I love him so much'. He picks up his book and puts it on the bedside table as a silent agreement to whatever Anti feels like doing. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Hmm...truth or dare?"

"I don't think it would be as fun just with the two of us."

"Oookay..." Anti rolls onto his back. He so obviously doesn't have any viable ideas, but that doesn't mean he's letting this go. He wants to spend time with Dark, stupid ideas be damned. "20 questions?"

"I would say neither of us need such an excuse to ask each other questions."

Anti huffs a breath and takes his time to just stare at Dark, both because he's right (and if he thinks about it, it's a wonderful thing) and because he's smiling. He understands that smiling is not a big part of Dark's nature, but he'll never stop thinking he looks amazing whenever he does smile. "Okay, I'm out."

"Well, that was quick," Dark says, sinking more into the pillows behind him and eyeing Anti curiously.

"Shut up. I wanted to say let's paint each other's nails or do make-up things, but it's way too dark for that," he feels a little annoyed that he doesn't have any more ideas. He will have to more consciously prepare for the next power outage, whenever that may come to happen.

"We can do that tomorrow, if you'd like," Dark offers softly, and the way he says it makes it obvious that he isn't just being polite, he'd enjoy it too.

Anti flails his arms in the air with joy, grin wide enough to show off a considerable amount of his sharp teeth. "Fuck yes!"

Out of ideas, they end up sitting side by side, pressed up against each other. The distorted colours around Dark ripple for a moment, then they wrap around Anti too. It feels nothing different and it doesn't drain his colours either, but it's a reoccurring display of how Dark considers him part of his comfort zone. Anti doesn't think he'll ever get used to all the happy feelings being reminded of that gives him.

They share Anti's earbuds and listen to music from his phone, trying to find songs they both enjoy (which is, surprisingly, not that incredibly hard, despite Anti's very sporadic music taste and Dark's love for heavy metal).

Two songs in, Anti is already humming along, his ears flicking lightly to the heavier beats. He doesn't want to sing and ruin the peacefulness of the moment, knowing that his voice when singing is absolutely horrid and cracks more often than if he were going through puberty. So he sticks to humming. Not outstandingly good and flawless humming, but a happy one at least.

When Anti checks the time on his phone a few minutes later, he finds that the power has been out for over an hour. Neither of them care much past the initial information.

The fourth song turns out to be one Dark is familiar with enough to know the lyrics. It starts out as him humming too, but by the time the first chorus rolls around, he's singing quietly. Anti ceases his humming, puts his head on his shoulder (with a little manoeuvring) and just listens. Dark seems to get the hint, and his singing gets just a little louder and braver, and Anti closes his eyes happily. At least one of them knows how to sing, and he doesn't much mind that it's not him.

In the middle of the fifth song, the lights flicker and then fully come back on. They look at each other, and Anti grins when he knows they're thinking the same thing. He stops the music before sliding off the bed and makes his way to the lightswitch. He flips it off, coating the room in the peaceful dim light again, flickering ever so slightly like candles usually do. Dark wraps an arm around his back and kisses him when he climbs back onto the bed.

When the next song begins, Dark presses a kiss to Anti's head, and then starts to sing again.

[art-ahw]

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

Written in 1899, Joseph Conrad explores a variety of themes set in the 19th century’s height of imperialism. The first time I heard of this book was about a year ago, within my own visitation into the centre of Africa. It details a seaman, Marlow, on his journey down the Congo river into the depths of the continent, whilst more so exploring the depths of humanity- the heart of darkness. Conrad’s ‘story-in-a-story’ creation is best known for the thrilling way in which he has primarily anti- racist and anti-imperialist undertones, something that stuck out in this time period. 

The Plot:

(reference: https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/heart-of-darkness/summary/ )

First we meet a group of sailors who are docked in the River Thames, one of them being Marlow, who, through comparison of London to the African Wilderness, begins to tell the tale of his journey through the Congo.

We are taken back in time as Marlow is a young sailor, his dream being exploring the world, especially Africa. His aunt has connections and earns him a place as a riverboat captain with ‘the Company’, a Belgian business trading in the Congo. 

As he travels to Africa and is involved amongst the stations, he encounters widespread segregation and brutality with the native inhabitants of the country as they are enlisted to work for the Belgians. The heartlessness and squalor that is within this imperialist nature strikes Marlow as contrasting with the illustrious and massive jungle that is always surrounding them, and to him it seems and acts as if it is an impenetrable darkness they cannot get rid of.

‘And outside, the silent wilderness surrounding this cleared speck on the earth struck me as something great and invincible, like evil or truth, waiting patiently for the passing away of this fantastic invasion.’

 Marlow eventually arrives at the Central Station, where he is encaptured by the mentioning of a man named Kurtz, who is said to be a ‘prodigy’. He finds that the boat he is supposed to take in order to meet him has sunk, and has to stay on in the station to wait for his parts. Marlow overhears a conversation between the manager and a brickmaker where they amount to the fact that Kurtz is a threat as he will be promoted in the manager’s place. Eventually, the parts arrive for the ship and Marlow leaves with the manager and a crew consisting of a few agents (nicknamed ‘pilgrims’, in the book), and a crew of cannibals- Kurtz is rumoured to be ill, so they make haste. 

After this, there is a long and treacherous voyage up the river, where everyone is on edge because there is nothing but the silence of the opressive jungle around them, alongside the occasional glimpse of a native village, or the sound of drums.

“It was unearthly, and the men were—No, they were not inhuman. Well, you know, that was the worst of it—the suspicion of their not being inhuman. It would come slowly to one. They howled and leaped, and spun, and made horrid faces; but what thrilled you was just the thought of their humanity—like yours—the thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. Ugly. Yes, it was ugly enough; but if you were man enough you would admit to yourself that there was in you just the faintest trace of a response to the terrible frankness of that noise, a dim suspicion of there being a meaning in it which you—you so remote from the night of first ages—could comprehend. And why not?”

Marlow and his crew are attacked out of nowhere by an unseen band of natives, who fire arrows from within the forest. Luckily, the ship makes it through and they arrive at Kurtz’s inner station expecting to find him dead from the attacks, but instead find a ‘crazed’ Russian trader that says that everything is fine. He has nothing but hyperbolic positivity in terms of describing his loyalty to Kurtz, announcing that he cannot be judged in the same terms that you would of other men. Apparently, Kurtz is seen as a kind of god to the natives, and has conducted ‘brutal raids’  for ivory. As Marlow looks up, he sees a row of severed heads adorning the fence posts around the station. The agents -’pilgrims’- bring Kurtz out on a stretcher, and as a large group of natives surround him, he speaks to them and they disappear again.

Kurtz is brought onto the ship, and a beautiful native woman appears and stares at the boat. She is said to be his mistress, and has caused trouble in the past because of her influence over him. The Russian trader swears Marlow to secrecy and tells him that Kurtz had actually ordered the attack on the ship earlier, hoping that they would turn around. The Russian then leaves via canoe, scared that the manager is not pleased with his allegiance to Kurtz. 

Kurtz disappears in the night, and Marlow searches for him, finding him on all fours- crawling toward the native camp. He is then stopped and convinced by Marlow to return to the ship. They leave the next morning, and Kurtz is dying fast. 

Marlow listens to Kurtz as he is steering the ship, and Kurtz entrusts him with a packet of private letters, including  pamphlet on civilising ‘savages’ that has a scrawled message at the bottom that says ‘Exterminate all the Brutes!’ Kurtz dies, his last words being “The horror! The horror!”, in the presence of Marlow. Marlow also falls ill soon after, almost dying himself.

“I was within a hair’s-breadth of the last opportunity for pronouncement, and I found with humiliation that probably I would have nothing to say. This is the reason why I affirm that Kurtz was a remarkable man. He had something to say. He said it. . . . He had summed up—he had judged. ‘The horror!’ He was a remarkable man.”

 After he gets well, he visits Kurtz’s ‘intended’ and delivers some letters that Kurtz gave him. It has been over a year since his death, but she still mourns him, wearing black and speaking of nothing but his virtue and achievement. She asks him what his last words were and he lies and says that they were her name.

My Understanding 

The reason that I decided to use this book as a landmark of my overall project was because it coincidentally turned out to be very similar in thematic purposes as my own ideas and experiences. This is in the way that the narrator is  profoundly interested in the fact that his childhood dream of the verdant, thriving landscape conflicts with the ‘heart of darkness’ he crosses paths with. He implies that the energy of the land or a place has got nothing to do with the setting it shows, but more to do with the people that reside there, and the actions that take place. As he travels further into the heart of the Congo, he travels further into the darkness. 

This book in particular is incredibly difficult to read and to summarise, not because it is in a vernacular that alludes us or it is written in a terribly abstract way- I can’t explain why, but my guess is that it is because Conrad is writing and depicting scenes that are so dark that we don’t want to exactly explore it. For me personally, I feel there is a block in my brain that disallows me from going further into analysis of Kurtz’s actions and what his reputation means for us because it is too much to handle. I cannot fully dive into it because of the way it is written- I think only another reader of the text would understand, and I think that this is where Conrad finds his genius.

In terms of being anti-racist, there is always going to be a debate around the theory that Marlow’s character voiced forward-thinking ideas, and I think that he absolutely did, but in sections there is the effect of him outwardly implying that the Congolese were inferior, and could never be at the same level as the white men. The debate is whether or not Conrad himself was promoting this, and I think that it is whole hardheartedly up to one’s interpretation, as on the one hand as he is illustrating a man’s decent into madness, a part of that could be his racist thoughts, but on the flip side, the way that the comments are said in a casual way could debate that. However, at the start of the book, Marlow says something that contradicts his previous racism, perhaps something that he learnt during the trip up the Congo.

“The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much.” 

Standing out to me were the ways that Conrad uses the landscape in his descriptions. He uses two completely different scenes- London and Congo- to show how both are the same because of one thing- the way that mankind has infiltrated and spread darkness between both. Marlow starts by attesting the fact that London was once underdeveloped, living in the darkness, and that when it comes down to it, at any point, we could be thrown back down again, for we are in the brief moment of spotlight. 

‘We Live in the Flicker’

I am going to continue to do my art work with the feeling of this book in mind, and I will try to incorporate more pages and analysis accompanying them. 

[cristiancapulet]

Speed Date [Lysander + Cristian]

Who: Lysander and Cristian Capulet

What: Get to know each other during Posey’s speed dating event. 

@judgelysandercapulet

Cristian slipped into the seat across from the Dominant after double checking it was in fact his next match for the evening. Lysander. His eyes swept over the other male's larger frame appreciatively, although he kept his emotions relatively well masked with ease. Cristian extended a hand politely, not one to beat around the bush as he introduced himself, "Cristian Capulet, Sir. How are you doing this evening?"

Lysander was a rather proper himself and was pleased when the other extended his hand in such a polite manner. "Lysander Capulet." He introduced himself, "I am doing well, despite vaguely feeling overwhelmed by all the lovely submissive's here." He didn't hide his gaze as he looked the submissive up and down. "And how about you, Cristian?"

Cristian blinked in surprise, feeling a bit like an idiot. No wonder the name rang a bell, I can't believe how much half a decade changes people, he mused, relaxing some in front of the other. Anti-social as a kid, he'd never really gotten to know Lysander, only ever occasionally seeing his face at large family get togethers, and even then he didn't always notice the other. Now it seemed almost like a shame, wishing he was closer with more individuals in the family. "Quite well, Sir... I feel it's been some time since I last saw you, and oddly enough I don't know if we've really ever chatted, correct? Perhaps it's time we changed that though," he answered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Lysander nodded his head. He was still keeping track of all the family members and had a bad habit of losing track. Old habits died hard after all. He knew that Cristian was so often with their lord, and thus had never bothered with seeking the boy out for a proper introduction. "I believe it has been a bit, I've been rather busy in recent months as well." He offered a slight smile, "I can't say I am disappointed to see you here."

Cristian raised an eyebrow, surprised and silently flattered by the response. "Is that so? I'd imagine working as a.. judge, yes? Keeps you pretty busy. I'm surprised you have time for something like this, Sir."

Lysander laughed slightly, "Yes... it is quite a tasking career, though each day is rewarding." He shrugged his shoulders casually, "I am trying to make my family and my personal life more of a priority, I've spent too little time on that part of my life."

Cristian smiled, nodding. He'd never really met the kid, but he remembered hearing about Lysander taking custody. "Leopoldo, right? Does he know what you're up to tonight?" He asked, voice laced with amusement.

Lysander grinned when Cristian seemed to know about Leo. He was an important part of his life, "Drop the O off that, but yes. Though he prefers Leo and gets irritated when I call him Leopold." He chuckled slightly, "With any luck, he's done his homework and is watching a movie. I'm sure he's enjoying a night with the babysitter over his dad."

Cristian blushed, embarrassed. "Apologies.. Leo, then," he corrected, not use to addressing individuals often by nicknames. "It must be tough-- raising a child with a demanding job such as your own. I would presume it doesn't leave much free time for hobbies then, or am I mistaken?"

Lysander offered Cristian a smile, "Preteens tend to act like that-- I find it's easier to just appease him on that matter." He shrugged his shoulders, "When you're a parent... it all sort of falls in place. But you are correct, I don't have much time for hobbies, but I do have them. I played Rugby at Uni." He met the submissive's eyes, "What about you? Any hobbies?

Cristian smiled, picturing the other male's larger frame in a rugby jersey in his youth. "Mostly books, but I've enjoyed the occasional game of tennis since I was a kid, and fenced back when I was in uni myself."

Lysander nodded his head, seeing both of those hobbies as rather fitting for Cristian, "I never fenced... but I have played Tennis before. Perhaps you and I need to get out to play a game of tennis sometime."

Cristian hesitated a moment before responding, surprised by the suggestion. "I.. I don't see why not," he replied softly, feeling a bit shy. "I usually use the indoor courts at the gym I belong to, but it's almost spring, and there are public courts at the park too, provided they're clear of snow."

Lysander offered the submissive a grin, "I would definitely like the opportunity to get out of the office and outside. I'm afraid I start to feel a little cooped up when in there for long hours."

Cristian smiled in return, understanding the feeling the Dominant described. “Completely understand, Sir. Perhaps we will have to schedule something then,” he agreed.

Lysander was happy that Cristian seemed to want to spend more time with him. "Of course, you're going to have to give me our number so that I can schedule something with you. No doubt you're rather busy."

Cristian nodded, reaching into his inner breast pocket of his suit jacket, where he kept several business cards. He held out out to the Dominant, answering, "I am, but so long as I know in advance, I'm sure we could find a time that was mutually favorable, Sir."

Lysander took the business card from the other, and offered a grin. "Perfect." There was a soft ding, "I believe that's the end of our time, but I will be calling on you."

Cristian looked over at Posey just as she tapped a bell, surprised by the perfect timing. "Indeed," he mumbled softly as he turned back to the Dominant, nodding politely.