#writers of jacksepticeye

[parkswritessometimes]

Sunday X Marvin

It’s been almost twelve hours without a text from Marvin. Usually, he’d respond within minutes of a message. A little emoji or acknowledgment that he was alive. But nothing. No response from the good morning text he sent when he woke up. Usually, Marvin was the one who woke up early and Sunday would wake up to a cute morning image of Higgins or a bedheaded, shirtless Marvin, but no message today. 

“You good, Kit-Kat?” Sunday types hitting send before his anxieties get the better of him. Marv was probably just too engrossed in a book to even acknowledge their phone. It’s happened before on a handful of occasions, but they always replied within a few hours with an apology or an excuse or something. 

But Sunday can’t stop this gut feeling that something was wrong. That something was wrong. He’s been getting that feeling a lot lately. Especially since the twins rose to power in the magic circle. This twisting feeling in his soul, in his magic. But this was so specific to Marvin like a magnetic force pulling him towards his friend.    

And it’s not like Marvin was going to ask for help if he needed it. Marvin has always been far too prideful for that. Raised by absent parents and a semi-sane mentor who could never be understood by anyone but Marvin, he was always destined to be an aloof person. It probably didn’t help that they were bullied for several years before Sunday came into the picture. 

Sunday was also an outsider always working twice as hard to keep up with the advanced classes he was put in. Magic always seemed to come so easy for everyone else. He’s lucky that he made the cut for the Magic Circle. It would have been so easy to cast him aside and label him a dud, but he was given a single chance. Same with Marvin.

It took a lot of time for Marvin to open up. Lots of shared candy bars, healing magic, repairing uniforms with his more practical sewing skills before Marvin even told Sunday his name. But over time Sunday could feel Marvin slowly opening up. Ivy creeping up his ivory walls until it flooded his heart. 

Now they’re 28 and living life, Marvin had a bookstore that never seemed to be open and Sunday worked for the Magic Circle, always one of the first people to be in the loop. And as much as it annoyed the higher-ups, Marvin was always the first one to know what was going on. It was a good thing the two of them had going on. 

Late-night phone calls that only ended when one of them fell asleep, cute photos, and inside jokes. Nicknames and practice kisses. And yeah their heart always skipped a beat or two or just flat-out stop when Marvin would lay their head in their lap, or hold his hand. But it was fine. Marvin was always skipping from person to person, never sticking with one partner for more than six months. Bar hookups, tinder profile pictures, bumble notifications, that always broke his heart just a little bit. But what was he going to do? Marvin was having fun and Sunday didn’t want to ruin their fun. 

Maybe that’s where Marvin was, on a date or he slept over at a guy’s house and forgot a charger. But still, that didn't feel right.

Sunday looks back down at their phone. No notification. Okay, time for a wellness check. 

“I’m coming over if you don’t text me in the next three seconds.”

“3”

“2”

“1”

“On my way. I’ll bring sushi as a peace offering.” 

Sunday grabs their favorite green cloak throwing it over their shoulder and goes out into London’s warm Summer night. 

—---

Sunday knocks on the door, okay more like pounds, trying to get Marvin’s attention. He wedges his cell phone between his ear and shoulder and listens to the ring over and over again before getting the standard “leave a message”.

“Vin, Kit-Kat, it’s me. Open up. I bring gifts and if you don’t open up I’m gonna portal up to your apartment. So do us both a favor and let me in!” He kicks the door a few more times to send a message before hanging up and shoving his phone into his pocket. Sunday looks up at the flat, the lights are on which is a good sign at the very least. He sighs yanking his bear charm free from his neck letting his mask form on his face. Magic wasn’t exactly allowed in public without a permit but he’s technically on Marvin’s property. He won’t get nicked for that. Hopefully.  The portal revealing Marvin’s room appears and he steps through closing the portal behind him. 

Higgin’s little merp and rub against his thighs settle some of his nerves but the main problem still remains. His mask swirls back into the necklace on his chest and the golden magic fades from his fingertips as his he pets Marvin’s little familiar. 

“Hey, Higgy. Where’s Marvin? You gonna lead me to him?” 

Higgins jumps up on the bed ignoring Sunday’s request. Typical little cat. Sunday pushes the door open wandering out into Marvin’s kitchen and living room. Notes, pictures, and drawings line the walls looking like the workings of a madman. And in the middle of it all Marvin, still in his pajamas, pacing around the room.

“Uh, Marv? You there mate?” Sunday asks, but Marvin keeps pacing and muttering to himself. Sunday sets the dinner down on the countertop and walks over the scattered pages of Marvin’s writing. Slowly, carefully with each step Sunday moves forward trying not to mess up any of Marvin’s work. Their hand finally finds their way to Marvin’s shoulder and in an instant, Marvin’s mask is on and lighting in his hands. 

“Woah! Hey! Hey! Marvin! It’s me! It’s me.” Sunday says throwing their hands up.

“Sunday. Sunday…Sunny.” Marvin says, almost as if he’s in a trance. 

“Yeah, Kit-Kat. It’s me. It’s Sunny.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I used a portal and you weren’t answering your phone. I got worried.”

The fogginess in Marvin’s eyes clear and they flash into so many emotions going from fear to sadness to anger all within seconds. 

"I don't need your help, Sunday." Marvin’s green eyes drill into Sundays. And for anyone else, this would probably strike fear into their souls. But not Sunday. Sunday knows that look. It’s not true anger, if it was he’d be on fire. It’s that pride getting in his way. The fear that if he opens up he’ll be left alone on the porch begging for someone, anyone to stay. He has to push everyone so far away that his heart will never bleed like that again.

"Yeah, I know, kit-kat. You don’t need anyone’s help." Sunday whispers in a soothing tone taking a step forward. Marvin may growl and snarl like a feral cat from time to time but Sunday knows him better than anyone, including Marvin himself. He was just tired and clearly scared of something going on. Whatever he found must have truly shaken him to the core.

“Don’t say it in that fucking tone Sunday. Why the fuck are you even here? Did the twins send you? Because you can tell them-"

 "I came because I was worried. So can you just sit down for five minutes and let me bring you the dinner I bought before Higgins eats it?” Sunday’s golden glow wraps around their fingertips and rests against Marvin’s face. Their thumb go up and down their beard as they try to soothe Marvin. 

“Sunny…”

“It’s sushi, and I know you have some good wine. Let me get us some glasses and you can tell me what's going on.”

“Probably skip the wine.”

“Vinny, did you not eat this morning?”

“I think so? I can’t remember.”

“Okay, let's sit down.” Sunday grabs his friend’s hand and guides him down to the couch. Marvin’s head instantly rests against Sunday’s chest and Sunday finds his hand in his friend's long brown hair. “Do you want to talk first or eat?”

“What did you bring?”

“Sushi.”

“I want to eat first.”

“Okay, kit-kat. Let me grab the food.” Marvin squeezes him closer, refusing to let him get up from his spot. Sunday sighs knowing that he isn’t going anywhere. He opens a small portal allowing the food to fall through and onto the coffee table in front of them. 

“I got California rolls, rainbow rolls, and some salmon nigiri.” 

“You spoil me, Sunny.” 

“I know.” Sunday begins to unpack all the takeout from the plastic bag laying it all out on the table. He hands Marvin a pair of chopsticks and lets him dig in. With Marvin off of him, he gets up and goes back to the kitchen. He grabs a glass from his friend’s cabinet and fills it to the brim with cold water. 

“You want me to grab Higgins?”

“No, that’s okay. He’d just get lost in the papers anyway.”

“Yeah, I was gonna ask you about that.”

“It’s all my notes, I’m trying to decipher some of them.”

“Why? Aren’t they your notes?”

“Yes, but I can’t remember writing some of them.”

“Well, you’ve written so many it doesn’t surprise me you’ve forgotten some of them.” Sunday sets the cold glass in front of Marvin and nudges him towards it. 

“No that’s not the issue, the issue was they were wiped from my memory.” 

Sunday shakes his head and jolts back in surprise. Ras has been wiping Marvin’s memories? Thats-why would he do that? He practically raised Marvin. The Magic Circle has always said that he was dangerous and an outsider. Breaking the rules of magic and not conforming to the laws set in place to keep the world safe, but mental magic? On Marvin? That’s almost too much to bear. No wonder Marvin got so angry. His trust must be shattered on the floor in a million pieces. 

“Ras has been using mental magic on you?! We gotta report this! You can stay at my house until the council has him imprisoned.” 

“What no! Sunday! Ras hasn’t been tampering with my memories. The Circle has been.”

The Circle? No. They were a bit…shifty but what governmental organization isn’t?! Members of parliament and even the prime minister took bribes and did some shady stuff and they were in charge of the country! Don’t even get him started on the mess that was America's government system. But there's no way that The Magic Circle was doing something like that to its members. To Marvin. To Him.   

“Marvin, I think-”

Marvin yanks off his necklace and lets his cat mask form in his hand. The green ethereal glow signaled that some enchantment had been left on it.

“I have it recorded. The twins, they took so much away from us, Sunny. Just look.”

Sunday takes the mask and places it on his face. Green-tinted visions of the past come before his eyes. That’s him in the corner, looking over at Marvin, but he definitely doesn’t remember this. A dead body on a slab with the twins matching fox masks firmly on their faces. Their muffled voices told them to leave the room and like the good peons they were, they left. 

“We’ve reached the limits of what direct observation can show us.”

“Even magical observation is insufficient.”

“Necromancy then.”

The twins cast a spell causing the body to rise up. Sunday’s never seen anything like it. He’s always been told something like this was illegal except in the hands of the authorities. People with permits and power. He couldn’t even pay attention to the answers the body was giving, too shocked by the twin's actions to do anything. 

The body collapses back on the table and Sunday almost does as well. But just when he thought the worst was over.

“We might use Mind’s Eye.” One of them says. Mind’s Eye was one of the most dangerous spells that could be cast on such a body. The Malia it takes could easily drain that of the corpses and the users, leaving everyone involved just dust on the floor. 

“The risk would be enormous.”

“To lesser magicians than we.”

“Very well we do need answers.”

“There remains malia sufficient in the husk to achieve it once.”

The twins touch their fingers to the corpse's skull letting the purple mist swirl around the room chaotically. Sunday can’t make out the images but he knows in his soul it’s bad. The body screams out like it’s dying again before crumbling to ash. 

The twins put their masks back on allowing everyone to rejoin them. Sunday and Marvin are the first to come in but still, Sunday can not remember even being in this room.

Sunday is all but helpless to watch as Marvin picks up his mask as the twins talk.

“We learned much from this vessel, but little of substance.”

“The circumstances of its death were byzantine and inconsequential.”

“A matter of science. Nothing with which to trouble ourselves. Whatever happened to this man does not concern the magic circles. We needn’t investigate further.”

“You needn’t even remember what transpired here.”

The twins chat to cast a spell and just like that the memory is gone. The recording stops and Sunday takes the mask off of his face. 

They took their memories. 

They took his memories.

They took Marvin’s memories. 

Over a man who died to science?! Over something so simple and inconsequential?! What did they erase that was important?! Did they erase a full days months or even years from his head?! How could they do something like that?!

“Marv, what the hell are we going to do? Can we get those memories back?! I can’t- What else did they take from us?!” Could they take larger pieces? Could they take whole people out of the memory? Could they take relationships? When was the limit where they couldn’t touch the memories?! 

“I don’t know. I have regained a few memories they took but that’s only because Ras drilled it in me to record my notes and journal my days. I’m trying to fill the gaps but I think most of them are gone.”

“Shit Marv. What are we going to do?”

“I honestly don’t know. Start recording with our masks? Compare notes?”

“That’s a start I suppose.” 

Marvin takes his spot back in Sunday’s chest and Sunday holds him tight. But it doesn’t stop the intense flood of anxiety coursing through his body. Pumped by the growing beat of his heart. 

Forgetting Marvin would be like forgetting his own name, his own being. They were so intertwined there was no way they could make them forget each other. Right? They surely couldn’t rip each other away. They would have done that years ago with Marvin and Ras. The twins never kept it a secret that they hated the man and constantly pushed Marvin to ditch his mentor. But Marvin was too stubborn, too loyal to even consider that an option.  

He looks back down at his friend only to find him asleep, all curled up in their lap. Sunday smiles and traces over Marvin’s tattoos with their finger. 

“No one will take me from you Marvin. I promise. No matter what.” They plant a little kiss on Marvin’s forehead and shuffle to a more comfortable position on the couch. No use in fighting it, he was gonna spend the night on the couch with Marvin. Not the first time this has happened and certainly not the last. He leans over and grabs a blanket from off the floor and drapes it over the two of them. 

Sunday wasn’t quite ready to fall asleep, still processing the huge mind fuck that the Magic Circle was doing this. And Marvin’s notes and research were within arms reach; he might as well catch up on what Marvin found. His fingertips find a large leather-bound book and pull it closer. Colorful tabs dot the pages probably signifying different spells he needed. 

Sunday opens it up to the first tab to find Marvin’s handwriting. No mention of spells or anything. Sunday immediately closes it and sets it down on Marvin’s back. Not today. There has to be something else he can read to get caught up on all this a spell book or something. But all of the notes around him seem to be in Marvin’s messy cursive writing. 

And then something catches his eye. One of the tabs on Marvin's journal had a little sun and a heart. He rarely lets curiosity get the best of him, that was more Marvin’s department, but he has to know what the little doodle of his nickname was doing there. He opens the book back up and begins to read the tabbed page.

I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna ask Sunny out after this meeting. I know we’re already kinda going out but I’m gonna make it official with him today. I’m in love with him and I’m sure he’s in love with me. Just gotta finish this meeting. I’m pretending to take notes but it's so dreadfully boring. I swear the twins are the stiffest people you’ll ever meet in your lifetime. 

Sunday doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the tear hits the page and smudges the ink. Did they take away that moment? Did they even allow them to have it? It’s not like Sunday could remember it. But he can just imagine it. Marvin just blurts out their feelings and he just goes red with embarrassment as Marvin uses sweet words until they kiss. 

And Magic Circle just took it away like it was nothing. 

Did Marvin know? He had to, he marked it after all. But…fuck. Did they take more moments like that away from them? How many times did they confess only to have the Magic Circle have it erased? 

Sunday wipes the tears away and takes another deep breath. He looks back down at Marvin and traces his finger across his jaw. He looks so peaceful right now. And as much as he wants to wake him up and tell him that he’s right, that he’s in love with him, that he wants to spend the rest of their lives together. It can wait. One big revelation at a time.

Sunday gives him one more kiss on the head and pulls the blanket up to Marvin’s shoulders. Both of them are gonna need sleep if they’re gonna figure out how to save their memories from future tampering. 

“Goodnight Marvin. I love you.”

-----

I don't usually write shippy stuff but here y'all go!

----

Tag List:

@kalcifers-blog

@the3rddenialist

[pxppet]

Doing some old prompts! They're from the second blog back when this one was deleted. You can see a drawing of Anti's mark here.

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

Jameson shifts uncomfortably. He feels like the scrubs and latex gloves might have been just for show with how filthy the basement is. Anti is dressed in them as well, looming over Chase, who is tossed haphazardly onto a gurney that JJ doesn't know the origin of. He tugs at the sleeves and shuffles as Anti readies a syringe with a sedative.

He claps softly for attention, and Anti whirls, teeth bared behind his medical mask. Jameson blinks at the completely full needle. "Is that the right dose? Anti, he's already unconscious from you hitting him. How much are you giving him?"

"Enough. It won't kill him."

Jameson blanches at him, but Anti doesn't acknowledge it, turning back to Chase and injecting him with the clear liquid inside. JJ fidgets with his fingers, touching each one to his thumb in a pattern. Giving himself anything else to focus on. Anti shuffles in a cabinet behind him, and he tries not to let goosebumps rise at his master being behind him.

A light whirring starts up, and Jameson looks up to see an older looking tattoo gun. Anti meets his eyes, and he can see the grin in his eyes even with his mouth obscured. Anti moves to Chase, sighing through his mask as he strokes a hand over Chase's limp hair. "Little pet," he murmurs. "You'll look so beautiful with my mark on you."

Jameson's fingers trace the tattoo on his neck without his permission; an endless circle and a dotted line wrapping around his throat to Anti's demonic sigil tattooed neatly on the back of his neck, where Anti loves to grab him.

The tattoo gun pierces along Chase's skin, and Jameson feels something cold in his stomach. Is it pity? Hate? Ah. No, his brain says, it is jealousy. He's been the sole bearer of Anti's mark for so long. What makes this new pet so deserving? He glances over Anti's shoulder, and a breath escapes him. Anti isn't marking his neck. Rather, the tattoo is on his wrist, tracing a circle around the boney flesh. He can't help the smugness that crosses his mind at the sight.

"Pass me some tissues, he's bleeding." Anti holds out a hand expectantly, and Jameson responds promptly like any good pet. Anti wipes away the redness, huffing. "He'll be bound to me, isn't that wonderful? Just like you, dear." Anti spares a rare petname, turning to smile at Jameson. JJ smiles back, despite the mask, calmed by Anti's current pleasant demeanor. He always gets so oddly calm when things go his way, shoulders relaxing from their taut drawn hold and usually angry face softening. Jameson takes these moments and keeps them in mental photographs. His master, looking happy and kind...

While he's distracted in his mind, Anti finishes the tattoo, pulling off his mask to reveal his toothy grin, mismatched eyes wild. "Isn't it beautiful?" Anti holds up Chase's limp wrist, sparse blood blending in with the deep black ink. The circle seems to make the air around it pulse slightly, especially when it meets Anti's skin. The ink is lightly infused with his blood, tying his puppets to him forever, though how figurative that is is unknown to all but Anti.

Anti cocks his head, his eyes blacking over. He gestures to Jameson, who immediately comes to him. He places a hand lightly around the man's throat. Jamesons lip part, and he shudders as he feels Anti's magic coursing through all three of them, like electricity being conducted.

"Doesn't it feel amazing?"

Jameson would rather use a word like 'terrifying', but all he does is nod in agreement.

-

Chase wakes to a pounding headache. His body jolts and he clutches at his chest, closed eyes flying open. He lets out a groan, but he's too beaten to rise, slumping against his pillow. Ah- a pillow? He's on a bed? A proper one, too, not just a dog bed or foam mattress on the ground. Is he even chained up? He lifts his wrists to check and stops short. He isn't bound, but there's cellophane wrap and tape around his left wrist. He itches at it, fighting the temptation to take it off immediately. It's definitely covering a tattoo, what else could it be. Fuck. He lays down again and pinches his eyes shut. Scars and bruises are one thing, but a tattoo is permanent. He tries to breathe slowly, attempting to calm himself.

The lock on the outside of the door slides open, and Chase scurries underneath his blanket, feebly attempting to hide. But no harsh words or sharp blows come down. A pale hand removes the blanket gingerly, and Jameson's slightly annoyed face appears to him.

"F-... food," Jameson croaks out, his throat straining so hard he coughs slightly, massaging at his throat. The action draws Chase's eyes to his tattoo. Funny, he never thought to question it, despite it not being one of Jack's tattoos at the time of the puppet's creation.

"Where did the tattoo come from, on your neck? Is it- did he-?" Chase gestures at his own wrist as JJ sets out a tray with two ham sandwiches and two bowls of plain rice. Chase blinks at it, distracted. "You're eating with me?"

Jameson sits on the bed and just goes about eating his sandwich. Chase can't understand his sign, and asking so many questions like that, he's just talking at him, not to him at this point. Chase quiets as well, scooting over and eating his food, scooping up rice with his fingers.

"Anti did do the tattoo, didn't he? And- and now he's tattooed me. What does- d-does it mean?'

Jameson sets down his sandwich, massaging his throat again, clearing it. "O-ownership."

Chase stares at him, chewing his lip. "We don't belong to him. We're our own people-"

Jameson places a hand over Chase's mouth, glaring at him in warning. Chase swallows hard and nods, going quiet. He turns to his food, eating cautiously. "So much for getting our of here, huh," Chase mutters.

Jameson sighs, tearing off a tiny bite of turkey. Yeah, getting out. He nearly laughs at Chase's naivety. No one gets out when it comes to Anti.

[70-percent-water]

Hey, Hey!

Doctor Alexander Glass here with a PSA. ((RANT CW: RPF)

If you write RPF or make artwork in the same vein you're fucking weird.

I genuinely DO NOT know how some of you in the Ego fandom or just enjoy content creators can still make things like that and believe it's completely OK after what happened to a lot of creators.

It's 2024, I don't care if you're a minor, If you're old enough to be on this app, you should have the comprehension skills to understand that shipping real people in an explicit manner is incredibly disrespectful to say the least.

Especially in the most OBVIOUS case.

The two creators involved in the most talked abt example were so heavily impacted by that shit that it caused them to distance each other for a while, they're friends for fucks sake, do you have any understanding about how hard that is?

And I'm also going to point out, that there are a good chunk of accounts with this type of content, who do not tag it as RPF and instead use the main creator tags to put their work under, leading to it popping up on peoples FOR YOU PAGE, and making it so it can't be blocked outrught.

Not everybody wants to he exposed to that, I honestly think it's on the same level as someone not tagging triggering content like violence or hate speech.

Am I being overdramatic? Maybe, but I don't give a shit cause apparently neither do the people doing this.

((PSA OVER))

[jackatt14]

OPENING WRITING COMMISSIONS

Prices:

1¢ (USD)= 1 word (Drabbles are 100 words and woul be $1.00. A fic with 1,000 words would be $10.00)

My limit would be 5k words at most

Payment method will consist of PayPal and Cash App

———————————————————————————

What I'll write:

-Canon x canon (Fanon included)

-Oc x oc

-Romance

-Fluff

-Slice of life

-Any characters/ocs with lgbtq identities

-Minor blood/gore

-Drabbles

-Swearing

-Oneshots

What I'll maybe write:

-Angst/Hurt and comfort/Hurt no comfort (I'm not the best with these,, but I'll TRY)

-Fight scenes (I've done this only once,, but im willing to try again)

-Death

-Horror (Have never rlly written this before)

-NSFW (details needed and not the best at)

What I won't write:

-Extreme gore or blood

-Anything illegal/problematic (Proships,, con-ship,, etc)

-Religion

-Self harm

-Suicide

-First-person

-Oc x canon

-Canon x reader

-Full stories (I have yet to do this LMAO)

-Discrimination towards race or gender (Unless,, only MENTIONED)

-Abuse

———————————————————————————

Fandoms I'm familar with:

Undertale

Deltarune (mostly)

My Chemical Romance

Doki Doki Literature Club

Good Omens

Youtuber alter egos (Jacksepticeye and Markiplier)

Sander Sides

Eddsworld

Vocaloid

(if u have questions abt any other fandoms,, please ask!!)

———————————————————————————

AO3 with examples (more examples can be sent through messages)

———————————————————————————

I'll send progress shots through messages

All fics will be posted on AO3. while u are commissioning me,, it's still my work. I'll use it freely for the sake of examples

U'll only pay once I've finished ur commission. I don't want to take money knowing there's a likely hood I won't finish it

Once finished with ur commission,, tell me where ud like it to be sent

Please send images of ur characters,, tell me the genre,, and what exactly ud like to happen in the fic

[jsehungergamesau]

Against All Odds

CHAPTER 2

No. No. No. No. This can't be real.

Heads turn towards Chase as someone from behind him gives a push right into a peacekeeper. He tries not to gasp. He forces his legs to move and keep his head up high as he makes his way to the stage, but he can't seem to broaden his shoulders, folding inward on himself as he walks. His throat is dry, and he can distantly hear Stacy’s protests and cries, begging for someone to volunteer for him while being shushed by the crowd.

His footsteps don't even creak on the solid wooden stairs as he climbs them. 

He looks over the crowd, his home, his community. Watching faces morph into everything from relief and mourning to utter shock. He feels a cold hand touch his back, keeping him upright, and distantly registers that he locked his knees so he wouldn't run.

“Any volunteers?” The cupcake woman asks the crowd. 

Chase prays again, this time to the crowd directly, someone out there has to know he’s about to be a dad. Someone has to volunteer. They can’t leave Stacy to be alone with a child. Someone must have some pity. Please. He begs them with his eyes.

Nobody steps forward to volunteer. The entire district remains silent.

Chase's stomach drops like a mangled stump into a wood chipper.

“Well, there you have it, District Seven! Your tributes this year: Ivy Cinder and Chase Brody! Let's give them a big hand!" 

He doesn't see anyone move, but if they did clap, Chase wouldn't have heard it. Blood was rushing in his ears as his brain spun out, trying to keep up with what was happening to him.

Chase feels numb as the peacekeepers usher him into the clock tower. The old building doubles as a city hall for the district and has been well maintained despite the rest of the town crumbling to sawdust around them. If he bothered to look directly up when they entered the door, Chase would be gazing up the spiraling steps of the clock tower itself and see the gleaming gears ticking away steadily high above their heads. Well-oiled and sturdy to the tests of time meanwhile, Chase could feel his entire life burning around him like a raging forest fire in contrast. 

They escort him to a private room to wait for visitors and the first thing Chase does after the doors close is scream. 

He wants to throw something. So instead of something breakable and expensive- the tray of crystal drinking glasses looks very tempting- he rips off his flannel and wads it into a ball with harsh digging fingers, flinging it with all of his strength into the plush leather couch. He grabs his hair and begins to pace the freshly cleaned hardwood floor. 

Okay, Brody. Get your shit together. Keep calm. Keep calm. You can figure this out-

He doesn't have much time to calm himself when his father walks in. Douglas “Chip” Brody looks at his only son, and for a rare moment in Chase's life, his father walks over and hugs him without prompting. His massive frame dwarfed his boy as he held him close.

Chase freezes for a split second before he quickly latches on tight to his dad's shirt like he was a little kid again. He certainly felt that small in this moment. Shoulders shaking with a cocktail of anger, fear, and despair, Chase lets out one sob into his father's broad chest. 

"You-" Chase swallows thickly, "You can't let Stacy be alone, okay?" He begs his father. "Please don't let her go hungry or leave her alone to suffer. Please. Do whatever you can to support them. I won't be able to now but I promised her. Please, Dad…" 

Chase doesn't hear a word but can feel his father nod against his head and hold his son tighter. 

Chase's father, in many ways, could be described as built like a boulder. Both in stature and in the amount of words typically spoken. He has always been a man of very few words, even more so when Chase's mother passed away a few years ago. They never needed many words to communicate between them. But at this moment, the father speaks to his child.

His rumbling voice coming from deep in his chest, he says, "You're strong and resourceful, Chase. Find an axe or a knife." The older man pulls away to look Chase in the eye. People always said Chase got so much of his mother in him. Does his dad see her when he looks at him? "Never forget your roots." He places a broad hand on his son's chest, "Your roots grow deep and sturdy here in Seven. Whatever you show out there, never lose touch with who you are and where you came from." 

Chase blinks away his tears, "Only one person lives, Dad."

His father lowers his gaze for a moment before looking back up, "Then be the one who walks out." He said it so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Chase wished he believed that it could ever be that easy.

They sat quietly together for the remaining time on the couch, the older man's arm around Chase's shoulders as he listened to his dad's steady heartbeat. It was over way too fast- Chase quickly hugs his dad again and they whisper "I love you" to each other before the older man is taken away. 

The silence in the room is deafening.

Chase is starting to fiddle with the simple metal band around his finger when a peacekeeper opens the door and Stacy does her best to run to him while seven months pregnant. 

They clutch each other tight and Chase feels her sobs racking her whole body. He gently strokes her hair and hushes her before pulling her back and firmly holding her shoulders.

“Stacy, hey, look at me. You don’t let her take out any tesserae okay? You do not let her take anything from them." Stacy begins to protest but Chase keeps going. "I’ve already asked my dad but I'm also gonna ask my mentor to take care of you. If I get in good with him, maybe he’ll take pity on you. Give you bread and stuff.” Chase rattled off every last thing he could think of. Anything Stacy needed to know as thick tears pooled in her eyes.

"Chase please-" She begins to plead but Chase takes her face in his hands and she places her hands over top of his.

"Sell all of my stuff the moment you hear my cannon."

"Stop-"

"Everything. Clothes, furniture, my tools. Everything, Stacy. You get as much money as you can and you save it all for her, okay? My carving tools are worth a decent amount, don't settle for less than what they're worth."

Stacy shook her head at every word Chase said, not wanting any of it to be true. "No. No, No, No, NO, NO!! STOP THAT!! Just an hour ago you said it would be okay- That we would be together and okay! You can't go! I refuse to have our baby grow up without a father!" Stacy cries and pleads, weakly pounding a fist against Chase's chest, knowing it won't do her any good, but it's one thing she feels she can control at this moment. 

"Starlight," Chase implores, feeling his heart break as he watches Stacy go quiet when he gently holds her wrists, "I'm... I'm so sorry." He barely whispers but clears his throat, resting his forehead against hers, "I'm so sorry this is happening. But it's out of our hands." Chase slides one hand from Stacy's wrist to her stomach, gently resting it over the baby bump and rubbing his thumb over it like he always did. 

He steels himself. He can't leave her. Not alone like this. He will not leave her behind like her father did to her family. He promised he would be a better man than that. But did he really have a chance..? He certainly didn't have a choice.

"You can win." Stacy starts, and Chase looks back up at her eyes her beautiful brown eyes with flecks of gold in them when the sun hits just right. "You're good with an axe. I've seen you throw them in the backyard with Birch. You're strong and fast on your feet, and I've seen you climb trees faster than a squirrel. Hell- you're 18, as old as any career. I genuinely think you have a shot of winning, Chase." Stacy's voice was firm, much more confident than Chase felt about himself despite tears rolling down her cheeks. But at this moment, he believes her. "You have to win." She swallows hard, "You have to come back home." 

Chase slowly nods. He barely gets his voice to cooperate enough to say, "Okay." Before he pulls her in for a kiss. He tries to tell himself it won't be the last one, but he still attempts to pour all of his heart and love into this one kiss. 

When they break away, Stacy pulls off the ring Chase gave her just over an hour before. He's confused when she presses the piece of jewelry into his palm and closes his fist around it, "You're bringing this back to me. And if you don't, I'll kill you." She said, and Chase almost laughed in disbelief. This is why he fell in love with this woman. He takes his simple band off his own finger and trades it to her. Quickly going to the couch to grab his reliable thick gray flannel and wrapping it around her much smaller shoulders, and kisses her again. She clutches the ring tight in her hand and the flannel close like a security blanket as she kisses him back.

"I love you so much, Stacy."

"I love you, too.” She gasps at a sudden thought, “What do we name her?" Stacy asks quickly and Chase panics, distantly hearing peacekeeper boots coming their way.

They had discussed name ideas before, but he wanted to wait and actually see his baby's eyes before making a choice. But if he never got the chance to do so- Chase has to think quickly. They don't know 100% if it will be a girl, but if she is then what do they name her? Think, Brody, think-

The door handle begins to turn and Chase hugs his girl, almost crushing her to his chest as he blurts out the first name that came to his mind, "Willow." 

Stacy nods and clings tightly to him. The peacekeepers come in and all too quickly she is being pulled away from him. He wants to shove them off her. She is crying, screaming "I love you so much!" as they drag her away. Chase calls back to her, but the door is slammed shut in his face.

He tries to go for the handle, but he hears the deadbolt coldly thunk into place. He slams his fist against the hardwood before pressing his forehead against it in defeat.

Chase desperately goes to the window to try and see her again, but the shutters are also locked tight. He feels like screaming again. His eyes burned but he swallowed tightly around the lump in his throat. Goodbye…

One more person comes to see him. 

His best friend, Birch, is a tall twig of a person who fits their namesake almost scarily well. Pale skin with darker patches around their eyes and mouth, and scattered across their arms and legs. Dark hair and matching black eyes, they wore an orange flannel normally but today it was just a gray button-up and a somber expression to match. Birch had been Chase's closest buddy growing up, despite how little they spoke. Chase never minded, he was good at talking enough for the both of them and Birch was a great listener.

They don't hug, but Birch reaches their hand out and Chase clasps their arms together in a tight grip.

"I'll watch out for her," Birch mumbled, already knowing what Chase was going to ask of them. They were always a soft-spoken person. Chase compared their voice to a gentle breeze once and Birch just shrugged, outwardly indifferent but Chase could tell they appreciated the compliment. 

"You mean that?"

Birch nodded, serious. "Her. The ankle biter. And your old man. I'll make sure they're taken care of if your dad slips up somewhere."

Chase let out a steady breath. Birch has always had Chase's back ever since Chase pulled their little brother out of the river, the one where they floated the trees to the lumber mill. The peacekeepers did nothing and the boy would have been crushed between massive logs if Chase didn't go after him. Guess this debt will finally be paid off in Birch's eyes if they do this for him. "Thank you," Chase says sincerely. Birch just nods again.

And that was it. Birch left as quietly as they came. No lingering. No tearful goodbyes. Just a promise to set Chase's mind at ease.

It's probably better this way. Birch always got uncomfortable when people cried.

Chase is then whisked away to the train station, several cameras pointed right at him and the other tribute girl as they get ushered onto the car like cattle heading to the slaughterhouse. Chase does have half a mind to smile and wave for the people across the country watching the broadcast, giving a small wave goodbye to his home as they stepped onto the train. He hoped they all didn't notice how puffy his eyes were or how clenched his jaw was.

The games have already begun.

°○°○°○°

Chase enters the dining car and looks out the window one last time at his district. He scanned the crowds who were seeing them off, waving goodbye but knowing in the back of his mind that he wouldn't see Stacy standing among them. No, Birch has probably escorted her back home by now and is trying in vain to comfort her.

The thought of Stacy when Birch inevitably has to leave, in her empty house crying, sets him on edge again. Chase stalks up and down the dining car like a caged animal, not even noticing the incredible speed of the train once it pulled away from his home. The trees stretch on for miles and blur past in a wall of green that Chase can barely register as it takes all of his power not to destroy the table setting. 

Instead of causing total destruction, he sits heavily on one of the plush chairs at the dining table and doubles over himself, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes until he sees stars bursting behind his closed lids. Chase couldn't stop his leg from bouncing if he bothered to try. There was so much rage, fear, and grief pent up inside him that he reconsidered throwing an expensive glass through a window when he heard the mechanical door slide open.

Chase snaps his head up to see the same man who stood with them on the stage. He vaguely realizes this must have been the person who kept a hand on his back so he didn't keel over on the spot.

He wears a rich blue vest with a simple swirling design embroidered into it, a crisp white shirt, and pressed black slacks with matching polished shoes. His black curly hair is tamed back with gel, but the thick curls were already beginning to crack and spring back to life in defiance. It seems like his mustache beat his hair to the punch- being styled to curl at the ends towards his nose. But that's about where the similarities to a potential resident in the Capitol stop. No, Jameson Jackson may have gotten a little plump around the edges with his victor's salaries, but he still had the hands of a worker. And shoulders to match if he didn't actively curl in just slightly enough to appear smaller. Appear more meek. The smile on his face was hardened like it was petrified into place, like a piece of fossilized bark. But his deep blue eyes still seemed kind. 

Chase didn't know what to think of him just yet.

Jameson walked with a limp over to Chase. The cane in his grip was fashioned from a tree branch, lovingly stripped of bark and polished to an almost orange shine. A knot at the top of it acts as the handle for Jameson to grip onto as he reaches his free hand out to gently grip Chase's shoulder.

The man tilts his head to the side while looking down at Chase- he can just catch the sight of a scar under the man's collar even though his black bowtie keeps the shirt closed. Jameson raises his brows in silent question. Chase knows that Jameson knows it's a bitter and dumb question to ask, but he still feels compelled to.

Are you okay?

Chase shakes his head, refusing to let tears fall. The next week is all about impressions. Getting people on your side, making friends with the Capitol scum that are rooting for his death, and placing bets on how fast he’ll die.

Realistically he’ll probably last a few days, but he can’t do anything important like gather food that won’t kill him, or patch up wounds so deep you can see your bones. He’ll make it to the top twelve, maybe ten,  then die a slow, hungry, painful death.

He turns back to Jameson and grabs his hand that rested on his shoulder.

“I have a girlfriend- a fiancée. She’s pregnant with our daughter. I need you to take care of her when I die. I won’t ask for anything else from you. Just please, take care of Stacy Wells.” 

It probably wasn’t the best idea to beg right off the bat, but that’s all Chase could think to do.

Jameson blinks rapidly at Chase's pleading, taking a moment to compose himself from the small outburst before gently removing his hand from Chase's death grip. He begins to use his hands to make movements and strange signs at the younger man but slowly stops when he sees Chase's lost look. Jameson hesitates again, hands hovering in front of him as if he was debating something, before turning and plucking a butter knife from the table behind him. He begins to tap on his cane with the blunt end of the knife and Chase immediately perks up in recognition. 

The quick taps are a bastardized Morse code that the people of District 7 developed as a way of communication to mimic the sound of woodpeckers- and slip conversations past the peacekeepers. Back in the days of the rebellion it was used quite frequently, but now it's mostly reserved for the folks who actually go up the high canopies to strip the branches. Usually to signal for bears or other dangers they spot nearby, but more often than not it is used to warn those goofing off of approaching peacekeepers.

It's by no means a perfect system, it's mostly just a collection of quick and simple phrases. But Jameson taps out a sentence that Chase roughly manages to translate to, "I understand. But first, let's talk." 

Chase nods.

Jameson pulls a chair out and spins it around so he can sit facing the 18-year-old. Once he leans his cane against the side of his chair, he pulls out some strange copper domes that look like a handful of sewing thimbles. He carefully places them on each finger before pressing them all into his scarred palms, causing them all to activate with tiny blue lights all at once.

"Test. Test." 

Chase jumps as a calm robotic male voice speaks from Jameson's breast pocket as he moves his hands to sign.

As Jameson signs, the movements of his hands seem to translate into a digital dialogue. Must be some kind of high-end Capitol tech, Chase wonders how much they cost Jameson. "These things are a huge pain to wear all day, but I will say, it is a nifty bit of equipment." 

“Did-did the Capitol give you those?” Chase curses himself at the question. Of course, he got those from the Capitol, most injured loggers would be lucky to have a decent cane or a wooden appendage if the worse came. Of course, the Capitol gave him everything he needed to communicate, he’s a victor. 

Jameson gave the young man a bemused smile, "Yes they are from the Capitol, but it was my friend from District 3 who designed them himself."

“They look nice at the very least.”  Chase tries to compliment him. If he was going to win Jameson over, he could start by not antagonizing him. But what does he even say? What could he even say? Everything depends on the next few sentences.

“I want to win. But I don’t think I have a good chance. I want to go back home to my family.” 

Jameson's smile slowly drops at Chase's self-doubt and he kicks himself for it, "What makes you so sure you don't have what it takes?"

“I-I’m not a career. And I can’t forage or hunt properly, let alone treat wounds or find water. I’m good with an axe and strong but that’s about it.” Chase runs his hands across the silky tablecloth. It’s a texture unfamiliar to him but it’s nice anyway. He thought it felt as if water was woven into a flexible solid and he could dip his hand through its cool surface.

"Not every winner is a career. Our district has had its fair share of victors, after all." Jameson gives Chase a grin but he immediately drops it when it's returned with a deadpan stare. "There will be a few days of survival and basic weapons training before the games. You have the opportunity to absorb as much knowledge as you can then. But that's not for a few more days. When Ivy comes in we will discuss the next immediate steps. Like what happens when we get to the Capitol."

"What are the next immediate steps? Creating my image or something?" Chase tried hard not to roll his eyes, this was important. Likable and impressionable tributes win, he can't be just another scared kid in makeup, he has to stand out. If they managed to get Stacy's wails on camera maybe that would boost his image? It definitely would be something to talk about. A very pregnant woman crying out for her love to come home to her and their unborn child? Pulls on the heartstrings of even the gruffest lumberjack.

"First step," Jameson reaches over and plucks a small golden puffed pastry drizzled in chocolate from a silver platter, popping it into his mouth, "Enjoy the food. While you can stomach it." Jameson quirks his eyebrow when Chase sends him a scowl, "We have some time. Try to use what we have now to calm your nerves and get some meat on your ribs. We will figure everything out soon."

Enjoy the food? He was going to either be killed or kill children in a week and he was supposed to enjoy the food? That’s it? He was supposed to eat and revel in all the luxury that the oh-so-gracious Capitol provided for him? Chase holds his head in his hands and forces himself to take a few deep breaths. There’s no use getting mad at Jameson after all, he was going to be his only lifeline for the next few weeks. 

The door slides open to the dining car before Chase can reply, and a girl with the most brilliant green eyes Chase has ever seen steps through the door.

"Ah, Ivy!" Jameson signed cheerily, the strange voice box nestled in his breast pocket didn't fully portray his cheer, but Jameson made up for that with his smile alone.

Chase and the girl both jump at the electronic voice. Chase was still not completely used to it. He turns back to see the other half of the team, Ivy, accompanied by the District Seven escort. 

Ivy Cinder stiffens a little but returns a kind smile that doesn't reach her eyes to Jameson, “Hi. Nice to meet you.” She mutters, tucking a stray red curl behind her ear with stiff movements. She was wearing a simple gray dress that she didn't look at all comfortable in, with a green flannel over top with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She was also still wearing logger's work boots that Chase recognized almost immediately.

Ivy looks over at Chase, unsure when he waves to invite her to sit down with them. She walks around the table and sits heavily across from Chase and Jameson. Her leg starts bouncing like crazy immediately as she fidgets with a necklace charm Chase can't make out from his seat. Her shoulders were stiff but Chase could tell she was trying to not make her nerves obvious.

Jameson's shoulders bounce in a silent chuckle, "I know, this thing takes some getting used to. I tried talking to my good friend Henrik about changing the voice audio but he-” Their mentor looks between the two tributes who were staring at him with blank looks and his smile falters. There is a beat of awkward silence before Jameson's face turns to soft sorrow, "I know it does not mean much, especially coming from me, but I am so sorry this has happened to you both." Jameson glances at the district escort before continuing, "This isn't going to be easy, but me and Miss. Whisper here are going to do everything we can to help you." 

"That is absolutely right!" The Capitol woman who was to be their escort, Teefee Whisper, clapped with glee while taking her seat next to Ivy in a puff of magenta glitter. Chase could see Ivy was trying her best to not make a face about the cloud of shimmering plastic particles that went everywhere. "I'm here to make sure we are all happy and punctual to get where we need to go. Oh! And I'm SO happy that I get to teach you proper etiquette! Ah! It will be just..." Teefee pauses a moment to search for the correct word and her face brightens with a snap of her perfectly manicured fingers, "Exceptional!" 

Jameson smiles very patiently at the Capitol woman, "Indeed." He turns back to Chase and Ivy with his expression more serious again, "As your mentor, it is my job to help you from the sidelines while you are in the games. Do you both have a general idea of how sponsors work?"

Chase and Ivy both nod and Ivy subtly scoots away from Teefee, not wanting any glitter to touch her. Chase has watched people come back from the dead thanks to sponsors. Some water or food or even a simple set of matches made all the difference. 

"I don't think Ivy will have difficulty with sponsors. I've seen her make friends with even the grouchiest of the lumberjacks." Chase says.

Ivy raises an eyebrow in surprise at his praise, "I highly doubt the other districts will see that as a strength-” Ivy says, idly rubbing her thumb against her token as she grins a little, "But the loveable sunshine girl and the determined father-to-be sound good together, I think.”

Even if Chase thought Ivy wasn't going to last long, she was certainly going to be a Capitol favorite. If Chase showed them all that they were a team, a duo, maybe some of Ivy's sponsors could roll over to him. And talking about Stacy and Willow would definitely help too. Everyone loves a baby after all.

Jameson nods while listening to the both of them, "Yes, we can definitely work with that. It helps that we won't have to reach too far to carve out a personality for the cameras.” He leans back in his seat a bit, “Just remember that this is all a big show. We will coach you later for the interview, but as soon as we pull into the station in the Capitol, consider yourselves on camera until the games are over. Start building up what you want the sponsors to see as soon as the train stops. Typically sponsors want to spend their money on someone who they think has a chance of winning, or that they want to see win because they take a shine to their personality," Jameson leans forward again for more emphasis that the digital voice can't portray, "Show them that your life is worth investing in." 

When Ivy doesn't respond either, Chase assumes that she was also chewing on the weight of Jameson's words. Pretending to be something other than your true self so people can sit back and daintily throw their money at the ones who they think are the most deadly, funny, or attractive? That if they don't perform for their amusement it could mean the difference of a struggling life or a slow and cruel death. They have to prove to these complete strangers that their life is worth something.

A hard glare fixes itself between Chase's eyebrows as a literal banquet is set in front of everyone. He had half a mind to not eat a single bite, but the wafting smells of fresh sourdough bread, beef and vegetable stew, and an array of cheeses and pastries- it could make any man break, and Chase's mouth is a dam ready to burst. His stomach betrayed him further as it growled. He couldn't be too embarrassed for himself because Ivy's stomach echoed his.

The two of them share a look before they simultaneously give a snicker, serving themselves towering plates of bread and cheese with bowls of thick soup the size of their heads.

The tributes haven't eaten this well in... ever. And everything is delicious. Chase has to force himself to slow down or else he fears being sick. But once the main course was finished he dragged over the bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries.

Chase almost melted as the mix of bittersweetness hit his tongue. It was incredible. But it was Capitol food, he reminded himself after the third strawberry, pitching the leafy greens at one of the flower vases in the middle of the table.

“Ivy’s also really smart.” Chase says in between bites of another berry, “I’m good with an axe but she knows how to forage and stuff.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, red juice staining his skin, "I think if we trade knowledge we have a chance to make it far.”

But Chase knows making it far counts for nothing. Doesn’t matter if you die first or last, you’ll be in the Capitol’s coffin either way. A vague memory in the short-term minds of frivolous people lost to time. You needed to win. You needed to come first in order to be seen.

Ivy pauses stuffing her face with warm bread and various cheeses, her freckled cheeks turning a bit red. "Hey give yourself some credit, Brody! Any skill is a good skill in some way and I know you have some." Ivy says in between bites, taking her first sip from a mug filled with something sweet and inspiring delight in her eyes, "What do you know about hunting?"

“I uh, I don’t know too much about hunting. But like I said I’m good with an axe. I can throw them pretty far and with decent accuracy.”

He looks to Jameson for… something, and just finds him listening to them talk while sipping a very ornate-looking cup of tea.

Chase looks over the banquet laid out for him and grabs another sandwich and shoves it in his mouth bitterly.

“Can you climb?” Teefee pipes up cheerily, wanting to be a part of the conversation but obviously not knowing that much about which district she's talking to. Obviously, all kids from District 7 knew how to scale up trees as fast as squirrels, with little need for equipment like them as well. Guess the woman didn't do her homework before coming.

“Uh yeah, I guess. I’m pretty decent with a throw weight as well. I used to help cut some of the branches up high when I was a kid. And I can tie some pretty decent knots.”

Jameson nods approvingly, and turns back to Ivy, giving a gesture as a general prompt, What about you?

Ivy perks up mid-chewing on some meat and wipes her mouth clean. "I'm fast, a good hider, and good at throwing an axe, same as Chase. My dad taught me how to hunt with a crossbow and my older sister taught me what herbs to use and avoid. I'm good at climbing too... if I hype myself up."

How in the world did she manage to get her hands on a crossbow?! Chase looks down in his lap as he tries to assess the situation. Fuck. Ivy might have a shot after all. Her survival skills are much better than his, and when it comes down to it, he’ll be relying on her, not the other way around. Especially when it comes to finding food that is actually edible. And when the time comes he knows that she’ll have to be the one to pull the trigger. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit! His one and only plan was crumbling down around him. He’ll be dead in the first three days! He knows it.

Chase wipes a tear from his eye, refusing to show weakness in front of anyone here. He’s gonna die. All because some stupid rebels tried to storm a mountain 37 years ago. He wasn't even born yet when that happened so why does it have to be him paying for what they did?

If Jameson sees Chase crying he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he nods to Ivy, finishes his tea, and carefully puts his thimbles back on after having removed them to eat.

"As I said before, there will be a chance to train for three days before the games. You two can either pool your knowledge and work together, or decide now to train alone. If you do decide to be a team, I suggest that you don't show the other tributes your greatest strengths in the training center.” He explains, “Show them that you are capable of holding your own- hell if you think you're charming enough, make some friends and team up with others." Jameson doesn't look too thrilled at his own idea of teaming up with others, so he adds, "Just don't get too attached. And be careful.

“Excuse me,” Chase says suddenly as he gets up. 

He can’t be here. He can’t be here. He reaches for the door, finding that it opens automatically before he can even find a handle. Chase doesn’t listen to it shut behind him or anybody possibly calling out to him. He’s already taken off looking for a place to cry.

[ts-journal]

Ways to vent…

And move on.

Make a private Pinterest bord for a particular person. Add pictures of them, pictures that remind you of them, and quotes that remind you of them.

Write poetry.

Add them to a story.

Put them in art. Representing how you feel.

Add your poetry about them to art made to represent how you feel. This creates all kinds of representation and sometimes it can help to do all of this. Sometimes just writing or a Pinterest bord isn’t enough.

Pray/Meditate

Journal

Talk to someone. My vent box is open. Send me something. You can be entirely anonymous. I won’t judge… I just want you to know you don’t have to hold it in.

But the biggest part is to not dwell. Do all of this. Whatever works best for you. But keeping your mind in the situation will not help you. It will only make you feel worse. The idea is to heal and move on.

So keeping taking to someone until you get sick of it. Then move onto a different topic.

Pick up a new good habit/obsession. For instance I started going to the gym and diving into The Last of Us and Jacksepticeye.

Delete that Pinterest bord. But only when you no longer feel the need to look at it. Forget it’s there? Time to delete it.

[writing-nebula]

Aura: A World Unseen. Chapter 2 - Whispering Shadows

Note, this chapter is nearly twice as long as almost Everything Else I've ever written for Aura- so hopefully it's all enjoyable!! ---------- Honestly, Anti hadn’t meant to skip lunch. Really, he hadn’t! But Mark and Amy were still here, and as much as he loved hanging out with Mark, the man was just so loud, emotionally. Sometimes it was too much to handle. So when lunchtime came around, and he could feel Mark’s eagerness like the thrumming of a heartbeat, he planned to just stay put until he’d calmed down, and now, well- it was almost time for dinner. “Chase is definitely gonna be on my ass if I skip two meals,” he muttered to himself, and finally got up from his laptop, taking a moment to stretch before leaving his room to head downstairs, checking in on everyone as he did. A wave of happiness flowed up from the living room, broken up by little shards of excitement here and there- that was probably where most of them were, though he had no clue what they could be doing. And then… Daggers of irritation from the kitchen, which meant Henrik got stuck cooking again. Best avoid it if he didn’t want to get dragged in. Anti reached the bottom of the stairs, planning to peek into the living room and see what was going on- His foot missed the last step, a blaze of panic ripping through him so sharply it hurt, tearing a hole in his chest, leaving him gasping for breath, his ears ringing. What- who- I can’t- Anti wasn’t sure how long he laid there before a voice faintly registered nearby, worry swirling around him like a breeze He tensed when his shoulder was touched, but the hand was like a soothing balm, cooling over the burns from before and loosening his chest, letting him gulp in air until the dizziness- that he hadn’t even noticed a moment ago- started to fade. “That’s it, just breathe…” The hands pulled him closer, wrapping him up in a hug, and Anti buried his face in the other’s shirt, trying to hide from the lingering flames dancing at the edge of his mind. Block it out, remember what Marvin taught you- just try to block it out… Finally, when he was sure he’d be able to handle it again, Anti pulled back, relieved when there was no effort to stop him. “...Thanks, Jack.”

His creator smiled at him, his relief alone making Anti smile back. “Of course- sorry it took a while to get to you, nobody realized you were over here at first.” Honestly, he had no idea how long he’d been there, but now he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. “What happened?” he asked instead, trying to look past Jack into the living room, “I felt…” Panic wasn’t a strong enough word for it- it was a moment of raw fear. There was a ping of confusion, then understanding, and Jack murmured an apology, though Anti didn’t really hear the words of it. “That was, uh, Mark and Amy, probably. I had a dizzy spell a few minutes ago, they both freaked out when I hit the floor.” “Oh,” that would explain the suddenness of it- “but then- that means there’s someone new?” Now excited- and feeling less shaky- Anti pushed himself to his feet, smiling hopefully when the human joined him. “Who is it? A fan ego? I know there are some out there you like-” He cut himself off when he registered the confusion now drifting out from the living room, and from Jack himself. “...What is it?” “...See, we don’t know who or what appeared,” Jack told him with a frown, looking around them for a moment. “Nothing changed in the room, and if you were the one that made noise out here…” “We’ll figure it out after dinner,” Chase cut in as he left the room, catching Anti’s eye, “it’s almost ready, and some people missed lunch.” Anti smiled sheepishly, but Chase just ruffled his hair and gently pushed him towards the kitchen. “Move, kid. And you’d better talk to Hen, make sure you didn’t get hurt.” “Okay, okay-” Anti chuckled and obediently headed for the kitchen, smiling faintly at Mark and Amy when he saw them. …It felt way too strong for just two people, though…

Henrik checked him over, declared he wouldn’t die, and they all sat down for dinner shortly after. Dinner itself was as usual- with the addition of everyone trying to figure out who or what had arrived of course. Anti mostly stayed out of the conversation, because he was really hungry now that there was food, and even in a crowd confusion and curiosity were fairly easy to ignore, like waves lapping at the sand. …What wasn’t easy to ignore was the faint but swiftly-building tension in the air, the nervousness coiling around him like rope, the fear that made his hands shake, his chest tighten, made his pixels buzz with static because something’s wrong, every instinct screaming danger- “Anti!” He nearly fell out of his seat when a hand touched his arm, a glitch ripping through him as he jerked back from the touch, only to realize how lightheaded he felt- Something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong- And then all at once the feelings dropped away, just vanished from the air around him, but the lightheadedness was worse, and all he could hear were quick, sharp gasps- “Kid, it’s just me, I got you-” There were hands on his arms again, but this time he registered the familiar worry, and then he opened his eyes- when had he closed them?- he found spots dancing in his vision, and as the tightness in his chest faded he realized oh, I’m the one gasping. He drew in a deep breath, hearing static laced through it, and the instant wave of relief would’ve made him laugh, if he hadn’t been too busy reminding himself how to breathe. “ Jeeze, kid-” Chase huffed when Anti could focus on him, “You gotta stop scaring us like that, one moment you’re fine and the next thing I know you’re over here hyperventilating-” Anti smiled weakly, exceedingly aware of how quiet the room had gotten. “Sorry, I-I don’t know what happened, there was just… A lot, suddenly…” “And it’s gone now?” Jackie checked, sat on Anti’s other side. …It wasn’t, he realized. It was still there, just… Distant, dulled. Buzzing in the background like an irritating insect. It could have something to do with whatever ego appeared, so if it’s still here, that’s a good sign.   “...Mostly?” he ended up saying, giving him a little shrug, “it’s kind of… in the background now, like I’ve been able to do for most of you guys’ feelings.” “Admittedly, that doesn’t assure me much,” Marvin huffed, “this emotion power you have seems to be getting stronger- how have the wards on your room been working out? Have they been blocking anything?” Anti hummed, trying to nudge the still-worried Chase away, “Kind of? It’s weaker when I’m in there, but I still feel things sometimes- when Jack is recording I feel him a lot, especially with Mark around.” Both YouTubers looked guilty, but Anti quickly shook his head. “You guys are just doing your job, and they’re not bad feelings, I can deal with some wayward excitement once in a while no problem.” “Still, ” Marvin pulled a book out from somewhere and started to flip through it, “it’s nothing I’ve ever come across before, so even with my spellroom I’m struggling to figure it out-” “Excuse me,” Henrik waved his fork in Marvin’s direction, eyes narrowed, “No spellbooks at the table, we’ve talked about this- yes, Anti’s thing is weird and interesting, but we are still eating, and you can discuss it after dinner.” Jamie nodded along, frowning, and Anti chuckled at the flash of irritation from Marvin before returning to his own food, trying to push the faint but still present fear to the back of his mind. We’ll figure it out when we find whatever appeared, I’m sure. No need to worry them more.

After dinner, they all scoured the house, looking for signs of anything new- new objects, anything that could’ve appeared with a new person, any doors that hadn’t been there before. But they didn’t find a single thing out of the ordinary. Marvin couldn’t even sense any kind of magic that would be able to hide somebody so thoroughly. “-and even if that random surge of emotion was related, if you can’t feel it strong enough to pinpoint them, it doesn’t do us much good,” Marvin sighed when Anti brought up his theory, “for all we know, they ran out of the house when we were busy, so we’ll just have to wait and see what comes up.” Anti almost mentioned that the feelings had been fluctuating while they searched, but- they were so faint now, like Marvin said it wouldn’t do them any good. Besides, if they’re that scared, it might be best to just wait for them, wherever they’re hiding… So when they gave up on the search- despite Jackie’s protests- Anti headed right up to his room, looking forward to the respite it would hopefully give him. …Except, standing in front of his door, it was stronger. Not nearly as bad as before, and it was still strangely muted, but definitely the strongest he’d felt it since dinner. And when he entered his room, the feeling increased tenfold, which should be impossible, unless… …unless it worked both ways. Which meant he was right. There’s someone in here. Anti took a deep breath, trying to push away the fear and apprehension that kept squeezing, tightening around his chest like a vice. It’s not me, it’s not mine- it doesn’t matter how much of it there is, I can handle some fear these days, no problem at all- He took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. He shut the door behind him. “...I know you’re there,” he started quietly, not wanting to startle them, or be heard from outside, “I don’t know why you’re hiding from everyone, but I’m not going to tell them.” Anti paused, searching the room, but there was no sign of anyone, nothing out of place. The fear eased up, though, and he almost whined in relief, feeling his shoulders slump. “I won’t tell them you’re here, but you can’t just hide in my room forever, okay?” he continued, talking a few more steps into the room and slowly turning around, hoping to see something.“Not without calming down, at least. I can… Feel you, and it’s a lot more than I usually deal with.” He waited again for a response, but when there was nothing he just sighed and headed for his little desk, opening his laptop back up in hopes of distracting himself. When he pulled up YouTube, he felt the fear in the air receding further- to be replaced by a faint spark of curiosity. …Okay, I can work with that. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked aloud, not really expecting an answer but figuring they’d make their opinion known somehow. “Minecraft, indie, FPS? Horror maybe?” …Nothing, though the curiosity was still glimmering- how could one person feel so much- He started to say something else, ask another question, but it stuck in his throat as he abruptly became aware of a presence behind him, leaning over his shoulder like it was trying to see the screen. Oh fuck what the fuck- Anti searched the reflection on his screen a bit frantically, but saw nothing behind him, he just… Knew. Okay, fine, if you wanna be creepy to the guy trying to help, then I just won’t talk to you. Petty? Absolutely, but he figured he had a right to be petty if he was going to deal with an invisible person in his room. So he just put on Jack’s Detroit: Become Human playlist, and tried to relax. …I just wish I had any clue on who it was…

—

Admittedly, trying to sleep in a room with an unknown, invisible person whose emotions were weirdly strong was easier said than done, and Anti was pretty sure he looked like shit when he went downstairs for breakfast, but thankfully everyone seemed to take the excuse that he just hadn’t slept well and didn’t pry any further. He said he wouldn’t tell anyone, and he meant it- at least until he figured out who it was. So he kept his mouth shut and went about his day. Joining the others when they searched for the new person again, spending some time helping Marvin in his spellroom, playing with his cat, getting into a very intense game of Uno with Jackie, Chase, and Jameson-

(Jameson had won, but Anti was too thrilled that he was comfortable enough to be competitive with him to be salty about it) He had plenty of things to keep him busy, and more than enough reasons to stay away from his room, so as the day went on he mostly forgot about his invisible roommate. No emotions struck him as foreign, nothing new or different made itself known around the house- it was like they didn’t exist at all. …Until Anti went back to his room for the night, and the moment the door was shut, it all came rushing back- almost literally, curiosity and confusion surrounding him, pushing at him like a mild tornado. Anti almost ran right back out the door. But he took a deep breath, tried to focus on the static crackling up and down his arms for a moment, and stepped further in, trying to let the torrent wash around him instead of against him. He didn’t try to speak until he was sitting at his desk, and by then the waves had calmed somewhat, though he still felt the presence somewhere nearby. Waiting. Anti let his breath out in a sigh, then turned a hesitant smile to the room as a whole. “Thank you for calming down, um… How was your day?” …No audible answer, but maybe… Anti closed his eyes, letting his static fade out so he could try and seek out the emotions instead of ignore them. The curiosity was still there, prodding at him like an impatient kid- but now it was joined by a prickle of nerves, like all the hair on his arms standing up at once. The air also felt strangely heavy, thick with something he didn’t quite recognize… “You’re… wondering what I did today?” he guessed, opening his eyes again, “and nervous that someone will find you here?” The briefest flash of pride was confirmation enough, but Anti couldn’t help but frown. “Mine was fine, I guess, but I asked how your day was, not…” The heavy feeling returned, and for a split second the room seemed to go grayscale, every color sucked away at once. He blinked once, drawing in another breath, and it returned to normal. “...You were bored,” he realized, and the moment he said it it made sense- of course they’d be bored, he was cooped up in a room alone all day. Another spark of pride- whether they were aiming it at him or just proud of themselves, who knew- and Anti nodded, turning to open his laptop. “Well, I usually stay up watching YouTube for a while longer, so you can watch with me. Just- give me some interest if you see something you like, okay?” He paused for a moment, but no emotions stuck out at him- just the same feeling of something over his shoulder returning. So he just started scrolling through videos, hoping he’d actually get an answer this time. (he didn’t, but they didn’t have any protest for RE7, so he counted that as a win)

—--

Anti slept much better that night- honestly, a lot better than he usually did- but he couldn’t say exactly why. There’d been… Some sort of buzzing in his room all night, similar to his static but somehow more, and that was the last thing he remembered hearing before he drifted off. Maybe it has something to do with them…? He wondered when he went down to breakfast, distractedly greeting the other egos as he helped himself to some coffee. If they're helping me, maybe that means they're getting less freaked out? Maybe they'll talk to me soon? Worry suddenly curled around him, so thick he could almost taste it, and Anti pulled himself out of his thoughts to frown at Chase, coming up next to him. "You really need to relax, your emotions are doing that weird cloud thing." The other ego didn't bother to make excuses, just making a face at him. "Yeah, yeah, I know- I just… this whole situation about the new ego is rubbing me the wrong way, is all." He sighed, grabbing a mug for himself. "None of us remembered much when we appeared, barely knew our own names- so why would whoever it was hide from us? You said you felt emotions, so it's clearly a person, and last night Marvin said he felt magic from someone other than him, but couldn't track it. That's probably why we never saw the guy, but… I dunno." Anti hummed along, wanting to offer him something, but he didn't know enough to be sure of anything. "You could do a little more research into fan egos, see if any of them have any particular powers?" He suggested, leaning against the counter to put a little distance between them- it was always harder to filter things out in the morning, and Chase was particularly open today. "I mean, clearly we aren't dealing with Robbie the zombie," he continued with a chuckle, "but there was that guy from Glitch in the System- Mack, I think? Maybe see if fans have expanded on him, they're good at that." Chase didn't respond right away, staring at the coffee machine as he drank what must've been half the mug, but when he went to refill it Anti felt the worry recede a bit, no longer filling the room, and he relaxed as Chase nodded. "...Yeah, that's an idea," Chase finally muttered, "and honestly, maybe there's been a new one lately- we assumed he had to be giving the thought attention now, but that might not be it…" He clapped a hand on Anti's shoulder, a tired smile on his face, and murmured a "thanks, kid," before walking away. Anti took a moment to feel proud of himself before going to make some toast, wanting something he could take up to his room. I guess I could ask them about that too- even if they don't know much, they should at least recognize their own name, right?

Maybe they did, maybe they didn't, but they certainly didn't recognize any of the names Anti had tried. Robbie was out, not that he'd expected it to work anyway, zombies weren't known for their ability to turn invisible. Mack drew a blank too, which he'd been a bit more hopeful for, but Bing got a little spark of interest for them- though, admittedly, that could just mean they preferred the search engine, and Anti didn't judge people's browser choices. …Not out loud, anyway. So he'd given up on that for the moment, instead trying to sit down and finish up a project he'd been too distracted to do the past couple days. He'd managed to pick up some work doing freelance coding- nothing huge, but it was something to do, and it felt nice to buy his own games, and pay Jack back just a little for all the kindness he'd shown him. So he got that finished, sent it off to the client, and browsed through YouTube a bit, idly noting that the Presence was behind him again. If you're that bored, then just tell me what you want to see! He huffed to himself, resting his chin on his hand. A notification popped up, and a glance at it revealed that Jack had started streaming, with 'special guest' Markiplier. That had him grimacing, wondering how Mark had gotten in without him noticing- he'd feel him soon, that was for sure, especially if he and Jack started to play something.  With that in mind, he went to find something to distract him from the bursts of emotion that would drift past the wards, something stupidly amusing that he could zone out with. They probably wouldn't be streaming for too long, anyway.

—

They'd been streaming for four hours, and at this point Anti could hear them yelling at each other- playfully, of course, but still frankly impressive considering the soundproofing in the recording room. "Should see if Marvin can magically soundproof it," he chuckled to himself, scrolling mindlessly through his Steam library. The emotions hadn't actually been too bad, mostly just excitement and joy blazing through the house like a flame, occasional frustration wafting off like smoke, so it wasn't too hard to force it to the background. That being said, he wasn't sure just how much was being blocked by Marvin's wards, so he wasn't eager to leave the room until he had to, just in case. He'd just settled in playing some Viscera Cleanup Detail when the Presence appeared again, startling him so bad he nearly jolted right out of his chair. "Fuck, don't do that-" he snapped, shooting a quick glare over his shoulder even though he knew there was nobody visible. "Give me a little warning, that's not exactly the most comfortable feeling!" No response, of course, but he did feel a little prickle of remorse, so he let it go and turned back to his game with a huff, planning on ignoring them as was starting to become usual.  But then he felt a chill, a shiver of magic up his spine, the buzz from last night echoing in his ears- And Anti found himself holding his breath as the semi-annoying phantom sensation became the very very real feeling of somebody actively leaning over him . it's a hell of a time to stop being shy why the fuck-

"...What are you doing now?"

Anti's racing thoughts screeched to a halt, and he exhaled sharply, turning his gaze down to the desk. He felt frozen, fixed in place, and it wasn't because the guy finally spoke- the question startled him, sure, but it was reasonable enough, he probably couldn't see the screen very well. No, the problem wasn't the question- it was the voice . Calm, but deep enough for a faint rumble in his chest. Smooth, but not soothing- more cold .  The faintest of echoes ringing in his ears, two voices just below the first- similar , but different. ...I know that voice. It was something he had no doubt in, a fact as irrefutable as his own name. Something he couldn't deny if he tried. I know that voice, I- I know who that is-   But that doesn't make any sense , why would he- why would Jack's power summon- Anti drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, suddenly hyper aware of the confusion still lingering around the room- confusion that had been there from the very start, and barely faded since then.  …I know who he is, but… he doesn't, does he? "I'm playing a game," he replied carefully, worried that he'd vanish again the moment he did. But the figure stayed where he was, even making a soft noise of acknowledgement. Anti took another deep breath before he looked back up at the laptop. There, reflected in the screen, he saw a silhouette. Broad-shouldered, a little taller than him, wearing something all white- a suit, if he remembered correctly.  The buzzing crackled around him, and he saw wisps of red and blue and gray in the corners of his vision.  It's really him . He almost laughed at the confirmation, because this was absurd, this was absolutely nowhere on the list of things they were prepared for- because why the hell would they? He wet his lips. Tried to find the perfect words, and failed because he never once thought he'd need them. …I guess I'm winging it, then. Because there's no way in hell I'm just letting this go now. "It's uh… nice to meet you properly, Dark," he murmured, smiling at the reflection, and the figure behind him startled back, the buzzing getting louder and the faint haze of anxiety thickening- "Yeah, I'll bet you're confused as hell," Anti hummed, "but I can answer any questions you have- because I know who you are, Dark. Whatever you're confused about, I can explain to you." He paused, waiting to see if Dark would disappear again, honestly expecting him to- but after a moment, the buzzing quieted down once again, and he took that as a sign to turn around, finally looking at him properly. Back straight, arms folded behind his back, white suit pristine, not a smudge or wrinkle in sight. His aura swirled around him, and the room around him was gray, as was he- the only color visible other than the shards of blue and red was the dark crimson of his eyes, staring at Anti like he could see right through him. Anti just smiled in return, watched Dark seemingly falter at how genuine he was. "My name's Antisepticeye," he introduced himself, and chuckled when recognition flashed clearly across his face. "Yeah, we know each other- well, sorta, it's a long story."  Darkiplier certainly wasn't anything they expected, but… He turned out okay, didn't he? Why couldn't this work out for them too? I'll make sure it works. And I'll make sure he doesn't suffer the same way I did. ------ Previous - Next

[10ths-writing-corner]

Day #2- Nowhere to Run

“If you only let me explain…”

Of course, the magician was cut off of his sentence as he had been for the past ten minutes. His hands sat in front of him, shackled. He did his best to stay still, since every little movement would only cause the iron bounds to tighten ever so slightly. Who would’ve thought he would been wearing the very same shackles he had created to protect the people of the circle…

“Silence! Nothing you say will erase your mistakes. The evidence is far greater than whatever you have to offer!” The man in the middle shouted, slamming his staff to silence him.

“There’s nothing to explain, it is clear as day what happened.” The woman to the right spoke next, her emerald eyes glared at Marvin, her gaze almost piercing through his very soul. It almost felt as if a boulder was being placed on his shoulders and he was being crushed slowly. “He felt jealous towards Mr. Jackson’s success. He build IRIS after all…”

“THAT IS NOT TRUE!” Marvin screamed, throwing himself at the three judges. What Marvin wasn’t expecting was to slam himself with an electrified field. The shock sent him flying backwards, a groan shooting from his mouth when he landed on his back. They had him caged too? His eyes close shut, but even then all he could see was Jameson’s terrified expression while he called for him. While he asked for his help… before being taken away…

Tears soon slide down his temple, getting lost in his vibrant mint chocolate hair. “I did not kill him…” Marvin whispered.

“That tome was off limits and forgotten for a reason. It was lost for a reason!” The man with the staff resumed. “Mr. Jackson created these rules for a reason, and you have always been one to break them, despite being a founder of the circle. You use your magic in a disgraceful way, for what? To entertain? To pull magic tricks?”

After catching his breath Marvin manages to sit. They always saw him as the weak link, his tittle didn’t matter. The only person that believed in him was Jameson and now he’s…

“Without me, the circle falls apart…”

“No, without you, the circle will rise.” The woman spoke once more. “You have nowhere to run, Marvin. You will pay for your crimes.”

The judge to the left had been quiet the entire trail, until now. Their cloak covered their features, though Marvin could tell by the way they rose from their chair the held a very delicate manner. The other two judges quiet and sat down, letting them speak. “Marvin…” Their voice was soft. “By the evidence we’ve gather, we find you guilty and charge you with treason for the murder for Jameson Jackson, founder of IRIS. We have no other choice but to sentence you to death.”

Tag list

~~~~~

@dmnfox @number1120 @chey-doodles @randowaffle @caesardoe @itsonlyparker @definitely-asexual-volcano @potatoarenice @lilsprout-exe @lildevyl @gotta-get-that-pma @hellspctre @justaninnocentstudent @anon-jameson @droid-dreamerr @glitchyartist @antis-gauge @ghostofodellion @miishae @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @innocent-angel3 @mysterio-is-the-truth @synder-sync @n-anon @immabethehero @fankayart @k--sm

[broke-art-girl]

Hii

For those of you who wanna ask for Head canons, theses are my Fandoms

Bands:

Melanie Martinez, Johnny Gilbert, Panic! at the Disco, Twentyøne piløts, My Chemical Romance, Billie Eilish, DJO, Jake Weber

YouTube:

Good Mythical Morning, Critical Role (The Mighty Nine), Markiplier, Johnny Gilbert, Jacksepticeye, Corpse Husband, Dan and Phil, Jake Webber

Movies:

Wonka, The Twilight Saga, Bones and All, Howls Moving Castle, Harry Potter, Sweeny Todd, Tangled, The Princess and the Frog, Saltburn, Call Me By Your Name,

Shows:

The Walking Dead, Being Human (US), Good Omens, The Walking Dead: The Ones Who Live. Bluey, The Vampire Diaries, Stranger Things, The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon, American Horror Story, Heathers, Yellow Jackets, Yellow Stone, Bee and Puppycat: Lazy in Space,

Anime:

Beastars, Black Butler, Tokyo Ghoul (s1-2), Wolf Children, My Neighbor Totoro, Death Note,

(I'm also a fan of My Hero Academia but I got out of it after season 3 so.. take that how you will..)

Games:

Detroit: Become Human, FNAF, Dungeons and Dragons, Minecraft, The Sims 4

[focailmarbh]

Want to info dump about my egos and Anti’s little ‘family’ (gaggle of kidnapped people) in that AU

Jackie/Hoodie and Sheep/Henrik are kept separate from Sunny/Chase and Carver/JJ, usually spread out in the living room of the mansion Anti hijacked. Kitten/Marvin is definitely the worse off one though, they’re stashed away in a spare room upstairs since Anti’s hypnosis doesn’t work on them. Can’t have them ‘infecting’ the others with ideas when they’re so obedient!

Carver and Kitten were the first ones he snatched up, as you can read in the stories I’ve written. They were living in a stolen house in Japan to hide, but Jackie was lured in to save them, and he actually did manage to grab Marvin and run. Anti caught them the minute they hit the nearest city, and literally dragged them back after a scuffle where Jackie was stabbed. Jackie was kept in a spare room, chained up and beaten within an inch of his life. Without his antipsychotic and under constant influence of hypnosis, he was incredibly easy to turn into Hoodie.

Hoodie was allowed to take care of the pets in the beginning, patching their wounds and getting them fed and clean. Anti dangles the threat of taking his antipsychotics away over his head to keep him obedient. Anti blots out cameras and just steals the ziprasidone for him.

Eventually, in fact before Jackie was fully Hoodie even, Anti packed them on a flight while hypnotizing all three of them and took them to the Netherlands. The hypnosis was so straining on him that he collapsed while they were getting through the airport. To his shock, the three of them gathered around him worriedly, and Hoodie took him to the hotel on his back while Kitten and Carver simpered worriedly beside them. Hoodie laid him in bed to recover, and for the first time Hoodie told Anti he loved him, pledging loyalty while crying. This is where he started liking the idea of having them all as a family.

Chase was taken next. Hoodie was forced to help with the process of breaking him in. Torture, hypnosis, and the destroyed image of his eldest brother made the already meek Chase easy to make into Sunny. Anti likes him, he’s always liked him, so he and Carver were made to live in a separated room as the favourites. They are the ones showered in presents and they’re given larger portions of food. Anti makes it clear to Hoodie and Kitten that if they don’t ‘prove’ themselves as loyal and obedient they won’t be fed.

Henrik was caught last, while Chase was still being tortured and brainwashed. Watching Chase and his brothers act like the demon was their family was frustrating and stopped Henrik from becoming Sheep for a long while. Chase was moved on to the main house and Henrik was still being tortured. He was broken down and his brain was so scrambled that he became quiet, meek, and incredibly jumpy. He curls into a ball and freezes every time any danger appears - this gets him called useless very often. He’s meant to be the little doctor for the group, and he tries as hard as he can to please Anti by doing so.

Anti moves everyone to Germany using a large SUV that he made Hoodie kill the owners of. Hoodie now cannot leave, he would be immediately caught for murder without Anti’s protection.

In Germany they set up home in an abandoned mansion, and there they stay. Hoodie and Sheep live on the bottom floor, having roam of the whole of it. They also run errands and have a deal of freedom compared to the others. Kitten is kept in a spare room alone, being visited by Anti for either affection or torture depending on Anti’s mood. Kitten is utterly hopeless, not able to be brainwashed yet trapped and abused by his own family.

Sunny and Carver are the favourite little darlings. They wear nice, clean clothes and eat well enough for Sunny to be chubby. Sunny has retreated into his mind a bit, acting very childlike and foggy due to the hypnosis and abuse. Carver is aware - painfully aware. He’s belonged to Anti ever since he was born, and despite the hypnosis he knows very well that this is abuse - he knows how wrong it all is. This is not the way the story is meant to be. But, powerless against his brothers, all he can do is watch.

[parkswritessometimes]

Drinks and Fights

Egotober Day 4: Drink

Egotober by: @tracobuttons

“Chase, are you sure you want another one?” Connor asks from behind the counter, fake concern lacing every word. “That will be your fourth whiskey tonight.”

   “I got money, you have- you have the liquor, I don’t see an issue,” Chase replies, fingers tracing the rim of the empty glass.

“The issue is that you’re getting drunk off your ass and I don’t feel like calling an ambulance tonight. ”   

“‘m not going to get alcohol poisoning, Connor. I know my limits. Whiskey, please.” Chase can tell that his words are starting to slur together. The beautiful, sweet, poison starting to take effect. His thoughts and emotions transforming into that familiar distant fuzzy feeling. The sounds of crying and laughter, yelling and whispers all merge into one. People around him break into formless shapes. 

“Alright man, I just worry about you,” Connor says as he shrugs and starts to pour another glass of his favorite whiskey. 

The poison was sweet on his lips and warm in his stomach. The mix of vanilla and grapefruit stayed on his tongue as he came up for air. Chase stared down at the drink, willing his own reflection would appear and not one of the monsters. Blank dull eyes stared back at him. God, is this what he had become? A hollowed out husk whose only use was to be filled with alcohol? 

This is what his life had become? Not-so-secret trips to bars and clubs. Hiding in his room while the world spins and moves on without him. Hearing Marvin and Jackie’s muffled laughter through the paper-thin walls and wishing he could join but being too hungover to even move. Skipping breakfast and lunch just so alcohol would hit harder and faster? Was his life slipping through his clenched fingers like grains of sand? Was he going to die in this bar?    

“You okay over there man?” Conner asked, ripping Chase out of his drunken spiral. 

“Yeah-Yeah, just need some…some air. Can you watch my drink for me?”

“Chase, I got a packed bar and I’m down a bartender. I can’t just drop everything to watch your drink.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Chase’s hands shake as he pulls the plastic card out from his wallet handing it over to Connor. “Close out my tab then. Think I need to go home.” 

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” Chase shakes his cotton-filled head no, causing the sweet drink to creep up his throat. 

“Just- I’ll just text my brother.” Chase stands up from the bar stool and makes his way to the door. He keeps his head down, eyes on the floor, and walks outside.

Fresh air hits him hard and fast. The chill of winter settling into his old bones. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket, the numbers on the screen all seeming to blur together. The numbers shake, once, twice, before he finally was met with his home screen. He can’t bring himself to fully look at the happy people staring back at him and pushes down on the green messaging app as fast as his drunk body would let him. He clicks the top message knowing it was the only person who would tolerate him in a state like this.

“At Conner’s Place. Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t do anything stupid until then.” 

Chase’s hand brushes up against something as he pockets his phone. Something plastic with a hint of metal and a small cardboard box. He wraps his hands around the familiar objects and pulls them out. The smell of nicotine itself made Chase’s body crawl with anticipation. He flicks open the box and pulls the very last stick out. He brings the flame up to the end of the cigarette and inhales the relief. He presses his back against the side of the building, letting the cool bricks soothe his forming headache. 

Whispers of Stacy’s complaints bounce in his head as he continues to inhale the stick of toxin. “Were you smoking again? You know that smell gives me migraines.” “Are those bruises? Where did you get those?” “I can’t talk to you while you smell like this. Go take a shower then we can talk.”

A swift kick to his thigh jolts him back to the real world. A group of twenty-somethings surround him, their angry drunk eyes staring down at him. 

  "Didn't you hear me?" One of them slurs. 

“Fuck off.” Chase manages to grumble out to the group. 

“Hey, I just want a cigarette! No need to be so fucking rude.” 

“Don’t have anymore.” Chase pushes himself up, his head throbbing as the world spins around him. He forces his feet to walk through the group of kids. He feels a hand pull him back and shove him against the wall. The group laughs as Chase lets out a small grunt, the force sending hot bile to his throat.

“I was talkin’ to you! Don’t be fucking rude!” 

 “I don’t have anymore.” Chase can feel the vitriol, the anger, the hatred he had been smothering for years bubble up in his chest. The stranger's fist misses his face by just a few centimeters. He could feel the anger spread like fire from his chest to his arm, his fist. Every enemy, from doctors to cops, to lawyers, to fucking Anti, seemed to merge into the man in front of him.  

“Hey!” A familiar voice shouts out as a car door slams, snapping Chase out of his rage. “Get the fuck away from him or I’ll call the fucking cops!” 

The stranger looks back at Chaser, a drunken scowl on his face as he takes a step away from Chase. His hands in the air, faking any sort of innocence. 

Chase watches as a clearly exhausted Marvin seems to skip through time. Coming closer at clumps at a time. His power replacing any anger or confidence Chase’s attackers once had. Chase can’t tell if this was a drunken hallucination or if Marvin was just that angry but, Marvin’s body was surrounded by a beautiful green aura. 

“If I ever see any of your faces again,” Marvin warns as he slips his soft hand into Chase’s. “I’ll fucking destroy you.” Chase leans against his friend letting him drag him back to the car. The door slams behind him, rattling the entire vehicle. Chase leans up against the window and closes his eyes. Thank fuck for Marvin.

“Just…rest up okay, Chaser,” Marvin says starting up the car. “I’ll getcha home safe.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Marv.”

“Of course. Just…rest up.”

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Prequels are hard to write. Don't recommend.

This is (kinda?) prequel to this

Have a good day

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[pxppet]

Oh, this one was fun. Warning for Anti being a creep, but he doesn't get his way this time.

[CW: panic attack, flashback, confrontation of an abuser, implied domestic abuse, home invasion, unwanted sexual comments, physical threat, vomit mention

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

Jameson walks briskly down the streets of the downtown area towards his and Henrik's flat. The air is warm, and summer makes everything droopy even in the late evening. A darkening sky serves as a warning to get home fast. Jameson can't get a smile off his face, having just headed home from a dinner with his deaf and nonspeaking support group. Every Saturday evening they pick a new spot, and tonight was a particularly tasty pizza place a few blocks from his home.

Jameson is used to walking lately. Yeah, he's used to it! No more paranoia or freaking out at every person brushing by him. It took a good few years, but he's just walked to a meeting with friends all by himself. Henrik will be in bed already for his shift at the hospital, but JJ pictures a great many proud kisses from him come morning.

Jameson arrives at his front door and fumbles with his keys, tongue sticking out slightly in focus. Never could get rid of the tremors in his hands, despite many attempts at medication. He pushes open the door, just a tad too hard because the left edge always gets stuck.

The apartment is dark, but Henrik left on a light in the hallway for him. Jameson itches at his neck, fingers ghosting over that old tattoo. He sighs, kicking off his shoes - sneakers, if you can believe it, not dress shoes. He stretches and walks down the hallway towards the kitchen. The light in the hallway slightly illuminates every other room, so he doesn't flip on the light in the kitchen, going about getting a cup of water after the walk.

Truly a mistake.

"You."

A voice, no, that voice hisses from the shadows. Jameson's cup falls from his hands and shatters on the floor as he whirls towards the noise. Pinpricks of green glow back at him, a shadowy form obscured around them.

It shouldn't be real, this is like every nightmare he's had over the past five years, this can't be real. He backs up against the counter, mouth hanging open, eyes nearly popping out of his skull. Anti hasn't used his noncorporeal form since they were both very young. 'Green hair and pumpkin carving' young.

"You," Anti calls again. The shadow moves towards him, stalking. "You," he says, but this time it's not anger in his tone, its nearly a whine, a pitiful noise. Jameson is hyperventilating, he closes his eyes, blinks hard, but it doesn't get rid of the shadowy beast that is his former husband.

"You can't be here," he signs, eyes still closed. "Can't."

"I am. I had to reduce my essence down to this to get past that fucking cat's wards." The shadow reels towards him, in his face in an instant. "I came... I came to get you." His voice seems shaky, almost hopeful.

Jameson feels himself crying, fear and anger colliding in his brain as the tattoo on his neck burns the reality into him that Anti is here. "I don't want you to get me."

The shadow scoffs, barely hiding how shattered Anti sounds. "I came to get you," he repeats, like a lost child. "Come home. I- I miss you. I tried others, I tried new puppets, but none of them were you-"

"Didn't have my throat or something?" Jameson's hands snarl, tears pouring down his face.

Anti laughs. "No," he purrs, the shadow touching to the tattoo on his neck, "they certainly didn't have that~" Jameson feels like puking as Anti's power thrums through him. He turns around to break away, putting his hands on the counter, heaving with crying. The shadow swoops back a few steps, observing him.

"Why would I want to go back? What do you even have to offer?" He turns back to sign at him after a long moment.

"Anything you want, dear."

"Don't ever fucking call me that again," JJ signs so hard his hands smack together.

The shadow stills, glaring at him. "Alright, you brat. Here's what I have to offer. The un-murdered lives of your new best pals."

"You can't get past Marvin's wards."

"Oh, and you're inside this home constantly then? You could live with knowing that every shift he works, he's in danger? Every grocery trip and appointment and errand?" The shadow's voice speaks right in his ear, hissing. "Could you live with yourself?"

Jameson feels his knees buckle, and he falls against the counter, sobbing. Henrik and the others have done so much for him over these years, been with him through every step of what he thought was becoming healed. He can't. He can't live with himself, and Anti knows that.

"Come with me," the shadow calls, "or they'll all pay the price you owe me."

Jameson slams his fist on the counter and turns around, eyes blazing. He walks directly up to the gleaming green eyes and stares into them, teeth gritted. "No," he signs, strong and sure. "You do not get this victory. Look at you, Anti. You haven't looked like this since when I was just born. You have to do this to yourself to even get to me for a moment. No. I will not be going. Marvin's coven will find more powerful spells that keep you at bay forever." Jameson pants as his tattoo sears into him, signing so aggressively it may as well be screaming. "I will not be yours again. You can rot. Alone."

The eyes of the devil glare at him with so much venom that it could poison a whole neighborhood. Jameson stares back into them directly, fire alight in them.

The air wavers, and shockingly, miraculously, Anti's form dissipates and he retreats. Jameson collapses to the ground the moment it's gone, the crying rocking his whole body. His crying is quiet, always forced to be quiet. Henrik does not wake up, unknowingly no longer safe in their own bed. He cries alone on the floor for hours, until sleeping on the sofa. He can't bear to sleep next to anyone right now, even Henrik. His skin feels smeared with dirt and crawls along his body. He finds himself clawing at the tattoo fitfully, falling into a disturbed sleep.

The next day, he does text Marvin, and Marvin comes over immediately, shouting like their head will fall off, promising to keep him safe. Henrik calls off his shift to stay with him all day. Jackie practically bursts down their door when the news gets to him, and Chase sends so many worried texts JJ turns off his phone. None of it helps. None of the love or comfort helps it. They're not safe. They're not, and Jameson doesn't know anymore if they ever will be.

Something has to change. He needs to get rid of Anti. Forever. No matter how dark the magic needed will be. He'll do anything for his friends.

[raharui]

you guys should... read my fanfic . giggles .

[seaswalllow]

"you know," Marvin says. "scrimshaw was a whaler's art. the only thing they had to turn their hands to in the pitch of night."

Henrik eyes him.

"I didn't know you knew so much about whalers," he says dryly, and Marvin cocks an eyebrow in amusement as he picks up on the unspoken surprise.

he's been getting good at that. something about that should scare Henrik- being seen, right through the thick steel walls, as very few people had ever done. one of whom is missing, one of whom is in a coma, and one of whom-

his neck itches.

"too grounded, right?" Marvin's voice startles him out of his musings. he can't read the magician's expression, even though his mask lies, discarded to his side. it seems... amused, but there's a set to his jaw he doesn't know how to parse.

"I would've expected you to know about- esoteric alchemies and illegal secret societies. not-" he gestures mutely.

Marvin sniggers. it's not an unkind sound, for once.

"scrimshaw's a powerful thing in the right hands, Schneeplestein. i like having powerful things in my back pocket."

he hums, considering that. power is a fraught discussion between their ramshackle crew, of its terrible beauty and the ways it kills, surely as a blade.

Marvin leans back, but his eyes never leave Henrik. Henrik swallows down the prickling in his mouth, and meets Marvin with rather more of a challenging look than he intended.

regardless, something about it pulls a corner of Marvin's mouth up.

"i didn't take you to be the squeamish type."

he snorts.

"squeamish? no. you could be performing hiruspicy every other day and i wouldn't care."

surprise sparks on Marvin's expression, quick and bright as a fleeting comet.

"the good doctor is familiar with the occult?"

Henrik's own lips quirk up.

"i do pay attention, you know."

Marvin hums with something close to amusement, and rests his chin on a hand with a smirk that Henrik has come to associate with nothing but trouble. it's a change from the careful hunger lurking in the back of his eyes, and Henrik decides to welcome it. they'll have time to chase it, when the sweetness of the dusk has worn off into the cold thrill of the night.

"hard to keep your eyes off of me, is it?"

"like trying to ignore a very needy cat," he agrees, and arches an eyebrow as Marvin sputters, content. if Marvin thinks he is going to be an easy tease, he is very, very wrong. it's half the fun, after all. "a siamese, perhaps. they're certainly loud enough."

he's going to milk this moment for all it's worth. Marvin swats at him, graceless in his outrage, loose as he only ever is with them.

"a pedigree siamese," Marvin informs him with all of the pomp and hufiness of a proper cat, and Henrik pretends to consider this for but a moment. it's reassuring, really, that for all of his mystique, Marvin lets himself be read, even this small bit, by their small, raggedy family.

"you followed us home from the streets, jumped in through the window, and wouldn't leave," Henrik says. he manages a deadpan for all of a minute as Marvin screeches in wordless outrage, before it cracks, and he smirks, chest humming with warmth.

Marvin glares for a moment longer, before he too, softens, and he slumps against Henrik's side.

"mistreated, i am. fucking mistreated! i come here, offering mystique and knowledge, and instead, i am called a catboy."

"Chase did say you looked nice with the cat ears," he muses. "i think it makes you look ridiculous. it's by far your most ridiculous profile picture."

Marvin squawks.

"i told him to delete that."

"because Chase is so good at doing what he's told," Henrik says dryly, and leans back onto his hands. "trying to do anything with this group is like herding actual pigeons."

a soft snicker. Marvin doesn't actually disagree, though, and he counts that a match won as Marvin looks back up at the skies. like this, he's startlingly vulnerable. not soft- never soft. but looser, almost; a blade sheathed rather than a blade waiting to act.

he pauses. considers that. blades, and guns, and fists. scalpels, and wires. when had they started to see everything, including themselves, a weapon?

i like to keep powerful things in my back pocket, doctor, says Marvin. says their brilliant, terrible, clever magician, with cleverer fingers and wily tricks, who's never quite learnt how to say things the way he wants to without it biting in.

"where did you learn it?" the question is sudden in the quiet, and it startles marvin into straightening back up.

he doesn't answer for long enough that Henrik genuinely thinks he won't be getting an answer. he's fine with that, letting it lapse back into the silence.

"a friend taught me," Marvin says, and it's not Henrik's imagination in how distant he sounds. "we were younger. bored. he figured giving me something new to throw myself at would distract me for like, five minutes."

"wise friend," Henrik murmurs, at a loss for anything else to say, at what to do with the sheer wistfulness in Marvin's voice. it's hard to call it anything other than longing.

"the wisest. i gave him a stupid little skull with a pun carved into it. all shitty and lopsided."

Henrik knows which skull he's talking about. it's sitting on an empty shelf in a room they carefully walk around, with the door always closed.

"it was your first," he says, instead, and Marvin smiles, bitterly. the good times, when they got second chances.

the concrete is cooling underneath his knuckles, and he eases off of them with a wince, shaking bloodflow into his hands. Marvin is studiously pretending not to watch him, instead lazily sketching out constellations in the skies, wisps of light trailing after his fingers like an after image.

he doesn't really know what to say to this strange, lopsided conversation that tilts from dangerous grounds to steady ones, and back again. Marvin is- difficult to keep up with. it's like chasing a thunderstorm. thrilling, thrilling beyond belief, and he can't stop coming back to watch the lightning play across clever fingers, but it means that he is frequently left wrong-footed, and the good doctor does not like to be left without clever words.

"you should teach us," he finally says, apropos of nothing. Marvin doesn't scoff, exactly, but the huff is more disbelieving than he'd like it to be. he presses forward, as he always does. "Jameson can and will make a worse pun."

"you must really want to stab Jackie," Marvin notes, and the wicked edge to his smirk is back. "or you just want the excuse to play with more bones."

Henrik waves a hand at him. "if i wanted to play with bones, i would clock in an extra shift."

"no comment about Jackie? i see how it is. you're not convincing us you work at a hospital, ethically, you know."

he only shrugs, willing his face to settle into the most deadpan it's ever been.

"that's not a no."

"it's not a yes," Marvin counters, and Henrik reads it in the unclenching of his jaw: yes it is.

he allows a smug smile to flick across his face, and without further ado, hauls himself to his feet, offering a hand to Marvin.

"what, now?"

Marvin stares at him; not quite taking his arm, yet, so aloof, yet so close.

Henrik arches an eyebrow.

"we've all learnt the lesson of taking a tomorrow for granted, haven't we?"

Marvin considers him for a moment longer, and Henrik genuinely could not begin to tell you what he's thinking. they're never going to understand each other, not fully, but the chase is alluring enough. Marvin does take his hand, though, and pull himself upright; another quiet victory.

"i'll even do you the favor of keeping Jackie's fingers in one piece," Henrik informs Marvin in as magnanimous a tone he has learnt from him.

Marvin laughs- genuinely laughs, and yanks on a forelock, carefully.

"careful with those promises, doctor."

"i always fulfill them," he says, and then wraps his fingers around Marvin's wrist- Marvin still hasn't let go, after all this time.

he pulls them towards the house, its lights flickering on and shades pulling closed as Jackie inevitably begins his evening rounds. he pulls them towards the house, towards each other.

(he keeps his promises. he may not be very good at saying them, hands carefully wrapped around the hands of others, but he will keep them.)

[pxxppet]

🎒 with marvin, 🫀 with chase, 🌅 with jackie, 🚫 with jameson, and 💫 with henrik :3 (u dont have to answer every one!! lol)

🎒 - what is their go-to accessory?

Marvin loves necklaces! They have several charms and pendants, gifts from their friends and some from personal wallet-emptying. Later on in the timeline, Marvin owns several prosthetic fingers that are designed to be fashionable! Their favourite to wear on nights out is a floral designed skeletal frame that's mostly decorative.

🫀 - how easily do they cry? what makes them cry without fail?

Chase has always been a bit of an easy crier. Definitely the type to cry over spilt milk. But it's not the milk, in reality, it's the crushing weight of stress piling onto him until a last straw - such as spilling his drink - breaks the barrier and sends him into tears. The things that make him cry are things I try to not go into much - things related to his estranged family and his time trapped with Anti. I may like whump, but when its a genuine trigger of my character's I prefer not indulging that thought.

🌅 - what time do they wake up? what time do they go to bed? what do they consider to be "late" at night?

Jackie has a lot of trouble with sleep, he's quite an insomniac. Vigilante work lasts all night and by the time morning comes he usually still can't calm from the adrenaline. This leads to him falling asleep around 3 PM and waking up around midnight to patrol. He also will force himself to stay up longer if one of the other's needs his help. A late night is just an average day in his eyes.

🚫 - what's something genuinely weird about them? like, not something considered quirky yet cute- something genuinely weird that puts other people off at first

Jameson is twitchy. Anti making him abuse pills led to tardive dyskinesia, an he has several motor tics and facial spasms that are off-putting at best and scary at worst. His left eye blinks open and shut like a stiff wink, and his shoulders jerk towards his neck at random. His hands tremble 24/7 and he will sometimes jerk and throw what he's holding across the room on accident. It comes across as weird to most strangers, and he hates feeling 'crazy', as Anti would call it.

💫 - what do they think is the most attractive feature they have?

Henrik loves his own eyes! They're a frosty, glimmering light blue that shines with grey speckling in his iris. He purposefully makes eye contact often as he can just to show them off.

[thewritersofdeceased]

Caard in the process :)!

REQUESTS: 3 - OPEN AGAIN

WORKS IN PROGRESS: ( I honestly forgot)