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beerecordings · 3 months

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Look we all know Mr. Higgins is the real star of the new comics. Here is a fic about him adopting Marvin, all while Marvin finds himself struggling desperately against the memory control of the Magic Circle. Written after Altrverse #0, extrapolations are probably not canon to anything. Thanks for reading, let me know if you enjoy!

The excitement of a new book always fills him with verve enough to keep him up late into the night. His shop is warm, a green fire burning without wood or fuel along the back wall, and his scalp tingles with every new sigil passing through his vision.

The fact that it's an extremely illegal book to own only makes it more exciting for Marvin.

He's almost laid out over the counter, bent low over the pages, his free hand wrapped around a third mug of hot mint tea – got to have something to go with the book, after all – when the door to the shop jingles. He'd meant to lock up for the night, but he hadn't managed to tear himself away. “Come in!” he calls distractedly, pressing his hand over a complex sigil shaped like a pair of antlers.

No footsteps sound. Marvin looks up quickly, his mind conjuring images of the twins in full regalia in his doorway, ready to strip him of his power for the transgression of his black magic book, but no one's there.

He can't decide if that's worse or better.

“Hello?” he calls, voice sharpening. He can handle most magicians, and certainly any civilians. But if this is the Magic Circle trying games with him, he won't be playing. “Reveal yourself.”

Something shifts by the bookshelf closest to the door. Marvin gets to his feet, book forgotten, and fixes his mask back over his face. He'll address this head on. He summons a spell and transports the four feet to be on the other side of his bookshelf, purple light gleaming for a second in his wake, alighting on his hand markings.

“Meow?” says a little grey and white cat.

Marvin stops short, mouth falling open in delight. The tension rushes out of him so fast his face feels cold. He claps his hands together and falls to his knees. “Hello, there, darling, aren't you a pretty sight? I wouldn't have thought a cat could get through that door, or you wouldn't have set me so on alert, you know! You must have really wanted in.”

He glances up at the door. Really, how did a cat push through that? The cat mewls at him again.

“Oh, come here, poor thing.”

He scratches his fingers against the carpet. The cat looks at him with interest, sitting down beside his shelves. It has remarkably clear eyes, blinking languidly at him, tail flicking. It's so calm Marvin just approaches it, putting a hand on its head and stroking down its grey back. It closes its eyes and purrs minutely, completely unhurried.

“Yes, there's a good little creature,” Marvin laughs. He pulls his hand away at a tacky sensation and finds his palm coated in dirt and dust. He sits petting the cat for several minutes, until the creature flops onto its side and exposes its belly to him. It's a male cat, purring loudly at him now, those cute paws folded in the air. Marvin laughs.

“You are a sight for sore eyes. But I can't have you tearing up the carpet or peeing on my books, kitten. Tell you what, I'll get you something to eat from upstairs and set it outside for you. Okay? Be right back.”

He heads upstairs to his flat and gets into the fridge, setting several strips of deli meat onto a plate for the cat. Maybe he'll take some pictures of the little guy as he eats. It would be nice to have a cat coming around every now and then. He had cats as a kid, in his family home, before he had to... well, before everything that happened. He loved them enough to shape his mask after them, but he's never had the free time for a pet. At this point, he's not even sure he has the safety for a pet. If the Circle finds out...

Well. Seeing as he himself isn't even aware of what he's doing half the time, he's hoping the chances of being discovered are slim.

Marvin sighs and heads back downstairs, clicking his tongue at the cat as he walks to the door and opens it. He sets the dish on the ground, but the cat hasn't moved, just looking at him from the carpet inside.

“Oh, you're comfy there, are you?” Marvin chuckles. “I understand. But you better have something to eat. Come here, then.”

The cat doesn't get up. Marvin sighs again, stepping over to him. “Sorry, my darling, but you can't stay in here.”

He leans down to pick the cat up. He doesn't struggle at all – well-behaved little thing – but as Marvin sets a foot outside, he sees a droplet of dark grey appear on the pavement beside it.

He frowns and looks up. A drop of water strikes his cheek.

“Really, right now?”

He's used to UK rain, but it's only a moment or two later that a full torrential downpour is pushing him back inside the shop. He curses and grabs the deli meat, pulling the dish inside. The cat leans down and delicately begins eating.

“Oh, lucky bugger,” Marvin says, shaking his head. “You're sure you're not a magic spy cat or something? A man disguised as a cat to trick me?”

The cat finishes the turkey and leans down to begin licking his anus.

“Alright, yeah, not a spy.”

Marvin looks out at the rain, coming down aggressively onto the awning and beating a cold rhythm through the shop. The cat polishes himself up politely at Marvin's feet. Poor dirty thing. Maybe he has an owner who's looking for him.

“Alright, then,” Marvin says, leaning down to pick the cat up once more. “You can stay just for tonight, while I figure out what to do with you.”

The cat pushes its head into his chin and purrs.

"Why do you have this? Where did you get it?"

"Would you just look?"

Sunday chooses to look up at him instead, something between astonishment and dismay arguing on his face. "Marvin..."

Marvin sighs out and taps the front of the book. "I have some contacts from my old mentor. They found this for me."

"Marvin, Ramesses wasn't exactly the kind of magician the Circle would approve of."

"You think I don't know that?"

Sunday sighs and rubs at the ear of his mask - a pretty cute form of self-soothing, really. After a moment, he flicks open the pages of the book.

"How's your memory today?" Marvin asks, trying not to sound too strained.

"What do you mean, my memory?"

"Do you remember that the Circle has been wiping things from our heads?" Marvin insists, clutching at the table.

Sunday's eyes flicker. "Right. That's... why we're looking at things like this."

"Right," Marvin agrees, relieved. "That's why we need help from magicians like Ramesses. Ones who know what's really going on. We need to find a way to keep them out of our heads."

It's dangerous stuff, but he and Sunday have had that discussion. Marvin has to trust that he's going to stay on board even as both of their memories ebb and flow. He desperately needs someone to help him remember. It's infuriating, knowing that the people who are supposed to be helping magicians are just taking control of them instead. Marvin won't be their puppet.

"This is the spell you're looking at?" asks Sunday.

"Yes. To protect someone from mind magic."

"You can't cast that alone."

"Help me, then!"

"We can't cast this alone," Sunday corrects. "You would need a huge group or an artifact."

"I have some magical artifacts."

"Not ones with enough power."

"Sunday, please."

"Marvin." His friend looks up at him sharply. "I know how deep we are in over our heads, but that's why we must be careful. You don't even know if this spell will work. It could harm you, change you, burn you out. Start with some of the smaller ones... look, this can imbue an object with the magic to see things for you. A looking glass of its own. And I'm sure you've been scrying."

Marvin grits his teeth. Yes, he's been scrying. All he sees is black wisps and red eyes through the darkness. Something is coming, and he can't stop it without knowing his mind is secure. He needs to expel the twins from the Magic Circle, needs to have a group of magicians he can trust, needs to -

"Marvin," says Sunday again. "You're working yourself up."

His sigils are glowing. He turns away bitterly, clutching his hands into fists.

"We're going to figure it out," Sunday says wearily. "You have to believe that. But you can't hurt yourself."

He sets the book down. "I need to get going. Not all of us get to run our own bookstores. I'll text you tomorrow after work, okay?"

"Fine," says Marvin. "Fine."

"Whoa, wait, is this yours?"

Marvin looks over to see the stray cat coming out of his bedroom, sitting down beside Sunday to regard him warily. It meows at him loudly enough that Sunday chuckles.

"No, I just took him in for a couple nights," Marvin sighs. "Trying to find his owner."

"And if he doesn't have one?"

"I don't know." He really doesn't. The cat's super cute, but Marvin has a lot going on. "I don't think I've got time for a cat. I get a little focused on one thing at a time."

Sunday gives him a look of disbelief. "A little?"

"Oh, shut it."

Sunday rubs the cat's head for a moment before standing. "We'll figure this out," he repeats. "Don't lose hope."

"I need you to give me some," Marvin says wearily.

Sunday touches his shoulder and grins at him, just as tired, but there's nothing more he can say. Once he's gone, Marvin sinks onto the couch, sighing deep. The cat jumps up beside him.

"You want to switch places?" Marvin asks, reaching out to scratch his chin. "I'll sleep and eat all day and you can go back to a place where you know you'll be brainwashed every time they call for you. You don't know how sick it makes me... but then, of course, I forget, and I'm theirs again."

He almost sinks in on himself, then, just wanting to melt into the couch. But the cat gets into his lap and meows at him, and the stink of his breath makes him laugh and pull back, and he sits up and pets him for a while instead of crumpling into his own dismay.

“Well, he's not got fleas or ticks or anything.”

The vet runs her hands professionally over the disgruntled cat, looking through his fur and petting his head. He turns to Marvin like he's expecting him to come help, and Marvin stifles a laugh. He's an expressive cat, really. Must have been good at begging for scraps.

“Really, none?”

“No," says the vet. "Why, did you see some?”

“No, it's just, I figured a stray cat would have one. You sure he's not chipped either?”

“No chip,” the vet confirms, running her hands over the cat. “How long have you had him?”

“Five days now. I called the animal shelter and posted online in case anyone is looking for him.”

“You can check our board in case someone's posted that he's lost.”

“Alright, will do.”

“But he's neutered and all, so you don't have to worry about that.”

“Good,” says Marvin emphatically. “I've never met such a headstrong cat. I don't think he'd let anybody get down there with scissors.”

“Oh, but he's such a well-mannered little boy,” coos the vet, petting the cat's head. The cat purrs.

“Yeah, now,” Marvin laughs. “But if you do something he doesn't like, he will let you know. I think he's capable of revenge.”

They have a laugh about it and the vet gets ready to give him some shots. When she gets out a syringe, the cat raises his butt like he's ready to bolt, but Marvin grabs his scruff sharply and leans down to chide him.

“Everybody has to get shots, Higgins,” he says. “You behave. You can't come home if you're not healthy.”

“Oh, no, you've named him,” smiles the vet.

Marvin puffs out a sigh. “I have, haven't I? I didn't mean to. But doesn't he look just like a little Mr. Higgins? Who's the prettiest boy?”

Mr. Higgins shoots him a disgruntled look, but he allows the vet to pin him down gently and give him his shots. Soon as they're done, he nips Marvin's thumb with his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” says Marvin, pushing him back into the carrier. “We'll check the board and then get you home.”

He's still not sure he wants a cat, but Higgins keeps trying to sleep in his bed, so Marvin figured he'd be responsible and get him checked over before they both get fleas. "You might not get to stick around forever," he tells the cat. "But I'll take care of you while you do."

But as he gets out to the reception of the vet's clinic, looking at their board of announcements and missing pet posters, he realizes he doesn't mind having the cat around. And this is how people get cats, right? They just take one in for a night, and then the cat adopts you. It's not like there's much going on for him right now, anyone. Things are good at the shop and with the Magic Circle. Everything's -

Higgins lets out a meow so loud other people turn to look at him, and so does Marvin, surprised. He's reminded of Higgins meowing at Sunday, who was over at his place to - to what?

To look at that black magic book...

Which he got because... because... why? Why is he looking at magic like that?

Higgins meows again, a little strangled. Marvin looks into his big, languid cat's eyes. Because...

The Circle is fucking with his head.

The realization hits him like a baseball in the chest, but even as it does, he knows this isn't the first time he's realized it. They keep making him forget - forget - forget.

He's a fucking puppet.

Marvin pushes himself out of the vet's office, vision blurry with frustrated tears.

"It keeps happening," he says to Higgins, voice tight. "I can't make them stop."

Higgins looks up at him from his carrier. The cat's quiet now, not struggling or meowing. Just looking at him.

"Yeah, you might not want me for an owner," sighs Marvin. "Fucked up head and a fucked up mess I can't seem to get myself out of."

Higgins lets out one little meow. Okay. That's pretty cute too. Marvin tries to get over himself. The self-pity won't help. Maybe, when he gets home, he can focus on getting Higgins a treat instead, since he was such a little gentleman at the vet.

Knowing that Sunday is right about the spell he wants to try doesn't it make it any easier to resist.

In fact, he thinks it makes it harder. Who is Sunday to tell Marvin what he's capable of?

He's always had that proud streak, and he knows it. Wanting to be the best at everything has served Marvin well in some parts of his life, but he's also been called cocky, overzealous, and, on one occasion, "basically a rat going to town on a Cheeto when it comes to magic," and all for good reason.

Higgins has hopped up on the kitchen counter, sitting beside the black magic book. Everytime Marvin looks over at it, he meows pointedly. If he didn't know better, he'd say the little miscreant was trying to warn him away too.

"It's just a spell," Marvin tells him, pacing around his living room. "I've never died trying stupid spells before. And I have tried some damn powerful spells."

He's good at powerful spells. He's a powerful fucking sorceror. It's why he was picked for this, mentored so intensely, sculpted to be better, better, better. The Magic Circle has its rules, but it should never have become a means to control him or restrain him. They can't take his own mind for him. He won't allow it!

"No one else is doing anything about it," he says to Higgins. "Sunday's the only one who's been able to hear me out and not forget everything the very next day. And even him, I have to remind again and again, and he has to remind me."

Higgins says "mrrp."

"Well, it's not like I can just leave the Magic Circle! All magical authority comes from them, and the twins - well. I have a lot to learn from the twins. Things the outsiders will never have access to. No, I need to be the one to take this all down from the inside. I'll cleanse it with fire if I have to! Or else - or else what will happen? We'll all be their slaves forever."

No. No. He won't be their tool. He grabs the black book. Higgins yowls.

"There is food for you in your bowl," Marvin chides him, heading towards the stairs. "Stay up here!"

Higgins tries to follow him down to the shop, and Marvin has to push him away with his foot, closing the door on him. Higgins makes a noise that can't be anything other than annoyed.

"Needy thing," Marvin chides, heading down the stairs, but it's soon gone from his mind. He's really going to try a new spell, one that might exorcise the twins's control over him. There's no rush like this, he loves it. New books, new spells, new magic. This is what he was born and trained for.

"Sunday doesn't know what I can do," Marvin says, putting his book down on his desk. This time, he makes sure the door to the shop is locked. "And neither do the fucking twins."

Mensprotego, not the original name of the spell, to be sure. It's Romanian in origin and the name is just some Latin combination of phrases given to it to lend it a feeling of power. But Marvin knows the real power of it as he traces the words over the spell. He draws his sigils with precision - he should have known when he was practicing the unfamiliar ones that he would always end up trying this alone - and sticks a mandrake leaf against the roof of his mouth, as the spell instructs. For extra energy, he'll use Ramesses's old staff.

It's good to grip it in his hands again. Even after all this time, he still thinks he can feel his mentor with him every time he holds it. Sometimes, he even gets the nostalgic smell of fire and the Vaseline he would smear over his scarring.

"Help me once again," he asks, pulling the staff over to his counter.

The power rushes up over him like a wave of water as he starts to speak. It's a strange sort of spell, the way it coasts over him, like it's sending sparks into him, a mini electrification that keeps repeating across his body - and keeps getting stronger. He wets his lips and keeps going. He's more used to magic that makes you feel tired as you use too much, but this! This is invigorating. His heart starts to pound. He can feel it against his chest. The electricity feeling makes him cramp, his fingers squeezing at the staff, and then his tongue sticks to his mouth. Wow. It kind of makes it hard to move. Kind of hurts.

Another wave of it grips him, and he pauses, breathing out and giving himself the chance to stop.

But then what will happen? Nothing. Things will keep going as they are. He can't take it. He has to keep going. To keep trying something new.

"I will not be yours," he whispers, and, clearing his throat, speaks the last words of the spell.

Everything explodes with light, blinding him, and a hot, raw pain bursts across him, his whole body lit up with purple markings, his eyes aglow, though he cannot see through them. He gasps and his body tries to crumple, but another wave of it crosses over him, shocking him stiff, unable to even collapse. Still, he clings to the spell, to the magic, vying hard for protection. If he can just get free, nothing else matters. He'll recover later, won't he? If he can just protect himself -

Something sharp clenches down on his ankle and he yells. The different kind of pain snaps him out of everything, and he drops Ramesses's staff, falling to his knees, still blind to all but his own light.

The electricity stops, but he thinks his brain might have short-circuited with it. He feels himself start to shake - maybe even to seize - he drops to the ground -

He loses consciousness to the sound of something scraping at his sigils with its claws.

Marvin wakes to the heavy smell of blood in his nose, and his fingers come up towards it instinctively, shaky and unsure.

"Ungh," he groans, shifting against the cold wood of his shop's backroom. He spits out a mandrake leaf, smacking his tongue at the odorous taste.

Marvin tries to push his glasses back into place, only to find the right temple snapped off its hinge, the glass cracked at the side. He pulls them off his face and sits up.

It makes his head rush painfully. Owch. There's blood all the way from his nose to his chin.

Okay, okay. Fine. He went way too far. Sunday's right, he's pushing too hard. Worse, he's not sure what would have happened if he didn't have that sharp pain.

He pulls his ankle up to himself as he sits down. Wait - that is distinctly a cat bite.

Setting his leg down, he lets his head thump back in surprise. Higgins saved him. Did he know he was in distress, or just get scared by the light and shaking?

"Higgs?" he calls. "You here?"

No little feet come padding towards him. He drags himself onto his feet - his poor head, owch - and stumbles towards the bathroom, washing his face off and swishing water around his mouth to clear out the copper taste.

"Maybe I don't tell Sunday about this," he mutters. He's made himself sick for certain. He won't feel well in the morning either. What's he going to do? Just -- with all of it, what is he doing?

The tears prick up against his will and he scowls at himself in the mirror, brushing at his eyes with the un-bloodied side of a washcloth. He strikes the flat of his palm against the bathroom counter and breathes. He can't let the twins or the council keep misusing their magic. He promised Ramesses he'd find a way.

But honestly, he just really wants to sleep for about twelve years or so. Feels like that would fix everything. Why does all this have to be on his shoulders alone?

"Not crying, we are not crying about this," he announces to himself, tossing the washcloth in the sink and stepping back into his living room. He crashes onto his couch and his head swims again from the movement. He covers his face from the light and breathes out slowly.

"Meow."

It's a very professional little meow, no wailing or pleading involved. Marvin pulls his arm away from his eyes and blinks towards the floor, where Higgins looks up at him carefully.

"Meow," he repeats.

"You want up here?" asks Marvin. He pats the little space beside his stomach. "You can come on."

Higgins doesn't move, peering up at him. He has eyes like a little man sometimes. Marvin prefers him playing, when his pupils get dilated huge and he just looks like the cute dumbass he's supposed to be.

"Yes, alright, I went too far," Marvin sighs. "What, are you angry? I'm sorry."

Higgins wraps his tail daintily around himself, blinking. Marvin sits up with a sigh and reaches for him.

Higgins say "mrrp" a little irritably, but he lets Marvin pull him onto his stomach and set him down there, stroking his head. After a few quiet minutes, Higgins settles and starts to purr gently.

"What a good boy," Marvin murmurs, scratching his ears as he lies back. "Did you know I needed help?"

Higgins looks at him with slitted eyes, rumbling.

"You got me out of that," Marvin continues. "You've never bit me like that before. Did I scare you? I'm sorry."

Higgins gets up slightly and Marvin mourns the loss of the warmth. But his cat doesn't hop off the couch. He just clambers higher up Marvin and pushes his soft head into his neck.

Marvin's face creases and the tears burn his eyes again. He blinks rapidly and wraps his arms around the hot little body of his cat.

"There's my good boy," Marvin rasps, holding him close. "My hero, aren't you? What a good cat."

He hugs Higgins close to him, closing his eyes, and for several minutes interrupted only by steady purring, he does cry. Maybe it's okay. No one's here to see him, and he'll feel better afterwards. Higgins licks the salt from his beard.

"Thank you, lovey," Marvin purrs back to him, scratching his back. "I know someone's got my back, don't I?"

Higgins meows loudly at him and Marvin laughs, wiping his face.

"Yuck, cat breath. You must be hungry. I'll fill your bowl, okay? And I better get something for me, too. Maybe a treat tonight. You think there are delivery places open twenty-four seven?"

Apparently it's not abnormal for someone to want pad see-ew at two in the morning, because his food comes less than fifteen minutes later. It hurts his head to go down the stairs, but it's euphoric to crash on his couch with several hot boxes of takeout arrayed on his coffee table. He puts on a Ghibli flick and spaces out hard, kept in the moment just by the sweet noodles and broccoli, the flashing colors of a movie he's seen a hundred times, and his cat, who jumps right back onto his lap and tries to get his head into the takeout box. Marvin lets him have a little too much chicken, but he's such a good boy, he deserves it. It's nice, really. It's nice to have this cat, purring on his chest as he sinks towards a deep sleep.

He thinks Higgins is asleep too.

Marvin wakes up feeling sick.

"Oh, my darling," he groans, feeling Higgins move as he does. "What did I do last night?"

He sits up slowly, glancing around his living room. He got take-out? He's usually so strict about eating at home. Did he drink?

"Well, I must have," he breathes, standing. He goes to his kitchen, but there's nothing out, no empty bottles or discarded lids. There's nothing in the trash out of the ordinary either. He didn't go out, right? He checks his phone, but he hasn't talked to anyone since yesterday. He wasn't out with friends, and he's sure he had no one over.

He's still trying to figure out what happened as he heads towards the bathroom, but the bloody washcloth in the sink stops him short. Marvin shakes his head, bewildered, and a little worried too, now. What is going on?

Higgins meows at him. He glances down at his cat. Higgins moves between his legs and then, apropos of nothing, puts his little teeth in Marvin's heel.

"Ow! Higgins! You - you bit me..."

He was trying that spell last night. He made himself sick with overuse. Higgins bit his ankle.

"Oh, oh," he whimpers, trying not to spiral. "They have such a grip on my memory I even forgot my own endeavors. They're in my house. In my head. I can't... I can't, I..."

He sinks down to his knees, shaking. His fingers press against the cold tile floor, and he sucks in shaking breaths, the fury and the terror passing over and through him like a great wave of heat.

"No more," he snarls, striking his hand against the floor. "No more of this. I will remember anything they take from me. Again and again, as much as I lose, I will get it back no matter what. I'll remember. And then I'll fight."

He turns his head and presses his hand against his cat's head. Higgins looks up at him with those sharp eyes, his fur soft against the palm of his hand.

"And you're going to help me, aren't you, my darling?"

He really does think that he sees that cat nod in that moment. The oddest part is, it doesn't even really surprise him.

"Right, then," Marvin breathes, his panic clearing. "Right. Back on your feet, Marvin, and no more sulking. Anyway, you got to get the cat fed."

Higgins' eyes dilate and his tail stands straight up. Marvin finds himself laughing despite everything.

"Okay, okay. One thing at a time."

He kisses his cat on the head, and goes to get him his breakfast. The rest will come - and he'll be ready.

#altrverse #higgins the cat #marvin the magnificent #jacksepticeye

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muscari-melpomene · 2 months

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Want, and Need

Chapter 3 of Counterbalance!

"It's supposed to be his job," said Anti sharply, and Dark sighed like he was trying to keep his temper, shutting his eyes for a moment. Anti was standing firmly in front of him, arms crossed, and no way in hell was he about to back down. "You said it was Wil's job to take them."

"It's not good for him to be there so often."

"He loves it there."

"That's why it isn't good for him."

"And it's good for you?"

"Anti," said Dark, opening his eyes to glare, "this-"

"If you tell me the fucking manor sucking your soul out isn't my concern, I will start screaming."

"I was going to say 'not up for discussion', actually."

"You fucker-"

"Anti."

"Don't," Anti nearly snarled, a glitch tearing down his back and fizzling out his words, "don't you dare use that bullshit on me, Dark. Why the fuck have you been feeding the manor, and why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell you for exactly this reason!" Dark threw his hands up and turned away, starting for the stairs. "I didn't tell you because you're only going to do this, and there's no point telling you anything else about it because you won't fucking listen."

Anti glitched out and appeared in front of Dark, shoving him back into the living room.

"Do not walk away from me-"

"What else am I meant to do," Dark gritted out, catching Anti's arm and pushing him away before Anti could shove at him again. "You're acting like a child."

"I'm the child? Wil's the one who hangs on your every fucking word, who can't understand that not everything's a part of his stupid little game-"

"-And the longer he's at the manor, the worse his delusions get-"

"William," said Anti slowly, "is not. Coming. Back. He's gone. Wilford isn't going to snap out of being Wilford, that's all there is left of him."

Dark was silent, watching Anti with cold, hard eyes. Anti stared back.

"And even if he did come back," he continued, ignoring the high-pitched ringing slowly building in the corners of the room, "he wouldn't know you. He wouldn't want you. He wants Damien and Celine. He doesn't want Dark. He never has."

"...And you do?" said Dark, all cold calmness now. "You want the shells of them, crumbled and mixed into a new mortar and plastered over the cracks of a broken body?"

"I want-"

"And what do you want with that body, Anti? Do you want it to abandon the power that sustains it, to lie helpless on the floor for you?"

Anti shook his head sharply, pushing away the image. "That's not-"

"Do you want it isolated like one of your victims?" Dark demanded, moving closer, "no ties, no escape? A doll to keep to yourself? Or perhaps you want this forever, fights every night because I dare to have a priority that isn't you and you need the struggle, the suffering, the pain my divided attention costs me- am I nothing but misery for you to have your fill of? When do your teeth sink in to my neck, then, when do I wake up to my last morning with you to see you grinning and sated?"

"Stop," said Anti, voice ragged as he grabbed at Dark's shirt, "Stop, stop it. Please stop it."

"Why should I?" said Dark, head held high. He didn't push Anti away.

Anti tipped forward, letting his head fall against Dark's shoulder.

"...Every time you feed the manor," Anti mumbled, "you get further away from me. It might as well be you getting tossed in that fucking basement. I hate it. I hate it, it's hurting you. You're tired when you come back, you're... less of you. More of it. It's gutting you to make more room for itself, because who you are isn't what it wants you to be, you don't want to be like it, I know you don't."

"How would you know that?" asked Dark. His voice was still cold, still impatient, but it was... softening. Just a little. Anti took a deep breath.

"I know you have nightmares."

Dark stiffened a little, and Anti kept talking.

"You're good at hiding it. Really good. But you can't pretend when you're asleep. I see your face move, I feel you get tense, like you want to run... and when you wake up, you look like you just got back from giving it a fresh body. It wants all of you, and you're afraid. And I don't want your fear."

"Why not?"

"I need you."

"You need to-"

"I need more than feeding," said Anti tiredly, shutting his eyes. "I need you. You next to me. Your arms. Your voice. Your terrible fucking interior design choices-"

Dark huffed like he was trying not to laugh, and Anti stored it away to feel smug about later.

"-your rants about the dumbass dog next door and the lemon window upstairs, your pretentious, stupid filing systems, you, Dark, I need you. I want you. And the manor wants to take you away from me, and I'm not going to fucking let it."

A long, quiet moment passed. Dark's hand pressed into the small of Anti's back, and Anti did not cry as Dark finally curled into him, holding him carefully.

"I need you, too," he murmured, setting his chin on Anti's head and stroking his hand up and down Anti's back. "I want you, too. And I... I don't want it. But it will kill me if I don't let it in."

"It'll still kill you if you do," said Anti miserably, and Dark sighed.

"...Maybe. Maybe it will. But there's time to figure that out, alright? I'm not dying right now, am I? I'm right here. With you."

Anti finally unclenched his hands from Dark's shirt, only to wrap his arms around his boyfriend's neck, pressing closer against him.

"...You're here," he agreed. Dark nodded.

"I'm not leaving you. I don't want to leave you."

"Promise," Anti demanded.

"I promise," said Dark, without hesitation.

...

Chase kept his eyes shut, and hated every second of it. But this was- this was important. This was important, and if Henrik tried anything Marvin was right there to set him on fire. Marvin was good at fire.

Chase tried to focus on that, on the memory of Marvin getting startled by his own damn cat and setting the ceiling fan on fire that one time. It was better than focusing on Henrik muttering to himself as he took notes on Chase's last answer.

"...Alright," said Henrik finally, and the frenzied sound of scribbling stopped, "there is... no evidence that the connection has changed. Decreased paranoia does not indicate it has weakened, it is simply the natural progression of increased security in the absence of an attack. All that remains is to-"

"Do we really have to do this part?" Said Marvin, and Higgins yowled. Henrik sighed, agitated.

"Yes, we do. It's the most important part of this check-in, you are well aware of that."

"Then- then couldn't I do it? This once?"

Chase frowned. Marvin sounded more worried than usual.

I should tease him about that later.

"Were you possessed by the anomaly?" Henrik snapped, "Chase has the strongest connection to it, he is our best avenue of insight. Don't let your emotions cloud your judgement, Chase will be fine."

Chase tried very hard not to think about the word 'possessed'.

"You don't know that," Marvin muttered angrily. Henrik sighed again, more pointedly this time. Chase was pretty sure Marvin would throw hands with Henrik if he wasn't so scrawny. Henrik wasn't much to look at either, but he definitely had the height advantage. Marvin did have magic, though, and an unmatched level of pure, unadulterated spite, and honestly Chase would pay to watch him kick the shit out of-

"Chase, I said focus," said Henrik.

"Always ruining my fun," Chase muttered. Marvin snorted, and Chase could feel Henrik holding back one last sigh.

"Reach out to him," Henrik commanded. This was the part Chase hated. He'd had his eyes closed through the whole questioning process to help disengage from his body, because if he was too present, too connected with what was happening around him, he wouldn't be able to...

...to feel Anti. And the others needed him to, needed any information on Anti they could possibly get. They needed him to do this, and it was all he could actually do for them, and damned if he was going to keep all of them trapped because it scared him. Damned if he was.

Chase took a deep breath, and reached out.

"Chase," said Marvin, half-frantic from where he knelt in front of Chase, "Look at me- can you hear me? Chase, can you hear me?"

"Why'm I on the floor?" Chase mumbled thickly, frowning stupidly at Marvin. Marvin was on the floor with him, holding him by the shoulders, looking ready to pass out with relief.

"Because you fell," he said, voice sharp with what sounded like anger but going by his expression was worry. "You went still, you started crying, and you fell-"

Marvin turned to glare up at Henrik, eyes glowing faintly green.

"You said he'd be fine."

"He doesn't look hurt," Henrik shrugged. "Chase, would you mind getting up?"

"Fuck off, Henrik-"

"He's miserable," said Chase slowly. Marvin looked back at him, frowning. Henrik tilted his head. Neither of them spoke. Chase swallowed. "Anti," he clarified pointlessly, "he's... he's miserable. Feels helpless. Angry, but not in a 'killing people' way. He's usually happy when he kills people, actually-"

"Chase," said Marvin, squeezing his shoulder, "we should get you to bed."

Henrik paused in his frantic note-taking to glare at Marvin.

"...Yeah, actually," said Chase after a moment, "that'd be... yeah. Sorry, Hen, I'll- I can write it all up for you later."

Henrik pressed his lips together, clearly frustrated, but nodded.

"...Alright. I had better pack up, then."

Marvin helped Chase off the floor, and Chase tried to shake off the last of the suffocating, cloying, helpless anguish that had rushed in on him from all sides. Higgins brushed against his ankle as Marvin guided him down the hallway and into the office he'd usurped and turned into- well, it wasn't really a makeshift bedroom anymore. It had been over a year. He was probably officially Marvin's roommate now.

"You're hovering," he told Marvin as the other herded him to the bed. The mattress felt softer than it had been that morning.

"You gave us a fright," said Marvin. Chase grinned up at him, and Marvin folded his arms.

"What."

"Knew you cared," Chase teased. Marvin went pink. Gods, he was so fucking easy.

Higgins jumped up onto the bedspread and curled up at Chase's feet purring loudly, and after a moment Marvin relented and sat on the edge of the bed.

"...are you alright?" he asked softly, and something flipped over behind Chase's ribs.

Not the time, Brody, really, definitely not the time.

"I'm fine," said Chase, only lying a little bit. "It's... they're not really my emotions, and I only feel him in- in my head for a moment, so... I'm fine."

"You were crying."

"Can't prove it."

"Chase."

"Marv," he said, taking Marvin's hand and doing his level best not to think about it, "I'm fine. I'll be fine. You should go make sure Henrik's not doing any bullshit out there, okay? I'll be fine."

Marvin hesitated just long enough for Higgins to meow impatiently.

"Fine," he said, dropping Chase's hand to stand up, "alright, I probably should see him out... I'll bring you some tea, alright?"

"Thanks," Chase hummed, giving him a smile. Marvin nodded sharply, and left. As soon as the door shut behind him, Higgins climbed up to settle on Chase's chest, purring loudly and nuzzling his head into Chase's shirt.

"Good kitty," said Chase, voice cracking halfway through. He took a deep, shaking breath, burying a hand in the cat's fur. "Good kitty. Thank you."

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #danti #antisepticeye #darkiplier #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #chase x marvin #trickshot #henrik von schneeplestein #wilford warfstache #who killed markiplier #altrverse #marvin the magician #higgins the cat #jse fandom #jse fanfic #vex picks up a pen

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ohheyitsgray · 4 months

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you guys aren’t gonna believe what came in the mail last week

#jacksepticeye #altrverse #altrverse spoilers #jse egos #marvin the magnificent #jackieboyman #gray’s art #marv owning a bookshop is perfect thank you altrverse team #also higgins is my favorite guy ever and once i learn how to draw cats its over for everyone

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liliesyonder · 2 months

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you put into the world what you want to see ! I Need To see 92sies racetrack content more often even if i have to make this slop myself.

#newsies #92sies #racetrack higgins #did i yassify him. yeah. sorry mr. casella #smug swifty in the background <333 #anyways this is a wip so i remember to post my other stuff.#race would probably be really good at bartering #he's my favorite but He's THE WORST to draw.#and to write. personally i have a lot of trouble writing him #he's like a smug cat that just evades me.#hazel art

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sl-newsie · 3 months

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Ok hear me out:

Broadway musical trading cards. Different musical characters on each card with backstory and stats that fans can trade.

Broadway musical Monopoly game: each property is a different musical and ‘go to jail’ is for watching a slime tutorial.

Who’s with me? 🎭

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lgbtqreads · 5 months

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Most Anticipated Queer Adult Fiction: January-June 2024

Don’t Want You Like a Best Friend by Emma R. Alban (January 9th) Gwen has a brilliant beyond brilliant idea. It’s 1857, and anxious debutante Beth has just one season to snag a wealthy husband, or she and her mother will be out on the street. But playing the blushing ingenue makes Beth’s skin crawl and she’d rather be anywhere but here. Gwen, on the other hand, is on her fourth season and…

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pigeonwit · 18 days

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I AM ASKING YOU ABOUT RACEVID (or RAVEY, or whatever it is the kids call it wbwbwb) !!!!

(i got one nice ask about it so i'm digging out this half-a-year old draft to talk about my personal racevid hcs that i cringe-cultured myself out of posting, take it away pidge-from-six-months-ago)

i honestly wasn't expecting this much racevid support. on my old newsies blog way back i made posts about these guys and they typically only got like. 3 notes? granted my writing wasn't as good so maybe i'm persuading people. or maybe the newsies fandom is finally waking up to the wonderful possibilities of multishipping. one of the two.

part two of the racevid analysis!! this one is less of an analysis of how they behave in the musical and more my own personal headcanons of their relationship and how it develops. part one (a very unpolished and rambley analysis of racevid in uksies) is here if anyone's curious!

right. so. it's act 2. jack publicly denounced and betrayed the strike. race leaves with davey, both in shame over being betrayed by (to race) the brother he grew up with and trusted more than anyone and (to davey) the guy he didn't even want to trust in the first place, but still put his faith in despite knowing better. the next day jack comes BACK, asking them both to trust him again. what would you do.

i'm of the firm belief that race only came back to the strike because davey agreed to come back, too. i don't think either of them necessarily FORGAVE jack in that moment - it'd only been a day and while we as the audience understand why jack (a frightened seventeen year old with little to no prospects or power) did what he did, we can also understand why it stung so deeply for them to be betrayed by someone they put so much faith in. especially davey - like i said in part 1, i believe davey has feelings for jack in every universe, and for him to not only trust, but fall in love with someone despite knowing better, only for it to come back and bite him (the way he KNEW it would but convinced himself otherwise) would be a humiliation that runs deep for him. but davey believes in doing the right thing, and as much as jack hurt him, he still trusts him to do what's right, too. that's another one of those strange mirrored-similarities race and davey have - davey loves so intensely that he still has faith in the good of a person, even when he believes that that person isn't good to him. race loves so intensely that if you burn the bridge you have with him, he will do everything he can to keep it from getting rebuilt.

i know both of them would forgive jack eventually. for davey, jack's family. you fight with family, you disagree, you throw things and scream in each other's faces, but you do that because you love each other and want what's best. so as long as jack's willing to put the work in, davey is, too, and he can still be mad at jack and not willing to forgive him yet while still loving him. i think race is a different story, though, especially JPB's race, who i think has a lot more grit, anger and seriousness to him than other race's. race has been with jack for years, they've grown together, talked together, maybe he hasn't always been perfect, but if jack was so scared, why he couldn't he just talk to him?! i personally view race as a kid who was very overlooked by his family (i saw that 'race has like 12 cousins in brooklyn' thing someone said and ran with it, so in my head he comes from a BIIIIG big catholic family) and so he takes it quite personally when people ignore him. in his head, jack not trusting him enough with his fears is saying he doesn't trust race the way race trusts him, doesn't see him as family the way race sees him like a brother. and i think race's response to this (in his own mentally ill 'i love you so much that i hate you for it' way) is to push him away. he's looking for reasons to resent jack here - and i think a big one of those reasons is davey.

for context; like i said in part one, my personal Racevid Story is that after the rally failure, race - being person who's used to the temporary nature of pleasure, and so grabs hold of any vice he can without thinking (gambling, smoking, fighting, etc) - would've impulsively kissed davey as a sort of 'please stay, i need help, please don't leave me in this mess alone' gesture. but i think davey is so used to shoving down his feelings and pretending he's fine that he would've gotten freaked out by the sudden notion that maybe race is attracted to him. he's barely got a handle on his feelings for jack, he's alone and scared and has no one to talk to, and now race is here, KISSING him, and it's all wonderful and confusing and TERRIFYING and he can't deal with it right now. so i think they would've just stopped, stared at each other, mumbled some kind of excuse and let themselves be dragged to their own responsibilities - race to the newsies, davey to his family, and neither of them having the nerve to actually understand what they want, because that would mean being vulnerable enough to want something.

i think jack coming back and davey immediately trusting him (despite knowing better) is going to make race angry for two reasons; first of all, like i said two paragraphs ago (fuck i'm rambling so much here) i think race would be looking for reasons to resent jack for what he did (again, coming from a very teenagery 'i love you so much i hate you for it' place), and second, i think it's also a source of jealousy for him. davey BARELY knew jack and still gave him everything. davey had no reason to trust any of them and he still did. davey could've thrown race away immediately, but he still made the effort to see him, so how dare jack cast that aside in favour of a daydream? (again, this isn't a jack criticism - this is just how i think race views the situation.) race (to me) is not used to people seeing him, certainly not used to people making an EFFORT to see him and take him seriously, and davey gave him all of that without him even needing to ask for it - and now race has messed that up and davey isn't talking to him, which he probably deserves, but jack messed up too!! why does JACK get to keep being seen? doesn't race deserve it, too? (again, i really think race's family overlooked him a lot and that's why he tries so hard to be such a commanding presence and keep peoples attention, because it hurts so much when other people are allowed attention so freely and he isn't.)

i don't buy in to davey being a mom-friend who wants to solve all his friends problems for them. i did shit like that when i was younger, and honestly i still do, and i just don't think that after the strike and all that he learned about himself, davey would fall into assuming that the only value he has is to fix things for everyone else (i mean, i do still think davey would have some issues to work out after the strike, hence 'run boy run', but not this specific issue). but i do think davey is very protective over the people he loves, and i think this rift between jack and race is affecting him, too. i think maybe the topic of jack comes up, and he tries getting race to talk more about it. when race refuses to talk, davey - finally - brings up the kiss.

this is entering fanfiction territory so im not gonna try to write out dialogue here or anything. i think itd be another example of them fumbling for a way to reach one another. neither one is used to speaking the others language, so to speak. i think race would feel especially humiliated given the turbulent situation, and i think davey would be struggling so much to find the 'right' words that he'd become defensive and panicky. and i think that would all bubble up into davey just blurting out something of the lines of 'i trust you'. and i think that'd be the thing that connects for them. not just being liked, but being seen for all their flaws and difficulties and being trusted anyways. i think that'd be the trigger for davey bullying race into finally talking to jack about what happened, race coming back to the strike, and the two of them entering a slow, tentative relationship that, as their dynamic in the show does, grows much steadier with time.

#newsies #davey jacobs #ask #walkman-cat #uksies #david jacobs #racetrack higgins #racevid

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