#pxppet lore

All together now!

A short thing about my Jameson and Anti, in which Anti gifts Jameson signs of his ownership.

[CW for blood, possessive relationship, abusive husband, mentions of rot and maggots]

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Gentle whirring fills the room, deafening to him, as the machine’s needle traces bee sting lines into Jameson’s throat. He is sitting still. Patient. Still. As Anti told him to. Or else, or else. But he can’t stop the tears pricking his eyes or the slight heaving of his chest as his master works. He has his eyes closed, but he can feel Anti staring at him, eating him up and making him feel like squirming.

“Still,” Anti’s voice comes, a single word command that freezes Jameson into a statue. “We’re almost done, sweetheart. Look at me, hey.”

JJ opens his eyes, allowing a tear to escape and slide down his cheek. Anti’s thumb moves upward and brushes it away, the overgrown nails of his host body dangerously close to his eye. Jameson does not flinch. “What are you drawing?” JJ dares to question. Thankfully, Anti just smiles at him, his eyes fading from black into more human-like green ones as he regards his husband.

“It’s my mark, Bluejay.” His hand rests very lightly on the half-done circle he’s tracing around Jameson’s neck with the tattoo gun. “My blood is in it. It binds you to me.” Anti smiles, his face subtly shapeshifting with his glamor and becoming softer with healthy round cheeks, shining curly hair and a boyish smile. “Forever.”

JJ smiles at him, or tries to anyway. His lip is trembling slightly from the pain. “Thank you, Anti,” he signs, A-husband, A-knife, as his name goes.

“No need to thank me, pet,” he coos, grabbing his chin and wiggling his head back and forth. “Though I do have something for you, once we’re done.”

Jameson perks up with curiosity, but then the tattoo gun is moving back to his skin, right over his jugular, which makes him hiss air through his teeth with pain. It touches down, lifts, touches down, lifts, in a circular pattern. JJ wonders what it will be. Anti had spent quite a bit more time on the back of his neck, but JJ counts his blessings that the front is seemingly quicker.

Eventually, Anti hums with satisfaction and sets down the gun. He wipes the new markings clean, clearing the excess ink and spots of blood. “Want to see, Jay?” Jameson nods, hesitant. His hand flexes in the handcuff Anti attached to the table, just in case – even though JJ would never run. Anti holds a mirror up to him. Jameson observes a dotted line circling his entire neck that leads to a smaller circle wrapping around his adam’s apple.

“This is on the back,” Anti says, drawing a piece of paper into his view, “My symbol. My name.” His voice is soft, distant, as though his thoughts are elsewhere. The symbol is a rather complex seeming sigil that makes no sense to JJ. Anti grins at Jameson with a mouth of dog’s teeth, touching his collarbone. He touches Anti’s hand, shaking minutely. “What do we say?”

“Thank you,” JJ offers him the simple sign shyly.

“That’s a good boy. Would you like your gift now?”

JJ nods, nervousness overridden by curiosity for now. Anti reaches into the back pocket of his black jeans, fishing around with a curse. Pulling out a small black box, he turns back to him, a certain light filling his face. Jameson tries not to so obviously bask in his husband’s rare good mood. “Jameson, lover and light of mine,” he purrs, “Pet and husband. Mine.” He pulls open the box, revealing a small gold ring, a simple band with only a single small sapphire implanted into the band. Jameson feels his mouth fall open faintly, staring at it with widened eyes.

Anti’s fingers come up and tap his mouth shut, laughing. “What, did you think I’d never propose properly? Just because you were given to me already mine doesn’t mean I can’t treat you to something nice.” Anti feels his appearance shift, Henrik’s sharp face, Marvin’s full beard, Chase’s freckles and doe eyes all filled in with black, and Jameson’s own curled hair, dark and highlighted with silver by the sunlight from the window – he is terrifying and beautiful, and he knows it.

JJ takes him in very obviously, his eyes beginning to water as he leans forward against Anti’s chest, overwhelmed. He’s not treated to gifts very often, and it makes him sheepish and distant with embarrassment. “Thank you, A-husband. Thank you.” He signs shakily against Anti’s chest. Anti taps his chin and chest, pulls the hands away softly. “Love, cherish, love,” he promises to him. JJ cannot sign it back because of his cuffed hand, so he simply nuzzles at Anti’s neck in appreciation.  

Anti picks up Jamie’s free hand, regarding the thick keloid in the center from when he put a knife through it, and all the minute scars around it. His beautiful handiwork. He kisses the scar, and then slips the wedding band onto his ring finger. “To have and to hold, ‘til death do us part. You are mine to treasure until the day I kill you.”

Jameson nods in agreement, examining the band with wide eyes. It’s so beautiful – a blue stone for Anti’s bluejay. He runs his thumbs over it, loving. But there’s a subtle sickness in his guts at those words, "‘til death." Anti has already promised to him that the day Jameson dies, it will be because Anti decided it – he is not allowed to die on his own. And Jameson had promised in return to stay with him until that time comes. His gaze darkens with bitterness for a moment, like maggots crawling in his stomach. He shivers and he thumbs the ring, his cuffed hand clenching on itself as Anti moves around putting things away.

My c!Jack, my c!Jack... What is there to say about him? He woke up one day with voices in his head that shouldn't be there. He worried over schizophrenia for a while, then OSDD, then he didn't know what to think. One of them towered over the others in a terrible way, with a snake like hiss of electricity on his voice. Jack tried suppressing that one as hard as he could fight, sobbing over the things it threatened to do to him. One smaller voice, somehow faint despite its booming tone, was fighting as well. It promised him protection, no matter what.

One day, he got severe pain in his chest while all alone in a cabin in the woods. He thought this was it. He was dying, and it's all culminated to this. But instead something bizarre happened. His chest panged and he fell to the floor. He stood up. There was another him still on the floor. It felt floaty, exhausting for a moment to even keep standing. Then, the other him moved.

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.

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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.

Jackie and JJ anatomy practice!! And sort of practicing their different body types.