Since I accidentally started this whole “Anti with glasses” thing, I decided I would write a little something about it. Also, this is based off of something @markired sent me and I guess there’s some Danti implied in here? Take it as you will, whether that’s platonic or romantic.
Also, it’s past 2am here. I tried and I’m an amateur writer.
Anyway, Enjoy! x
Anti needs glasses.
Just like Jack, he needs a pair to see things in the distance.
However, his eyesight is worse. That
being said, he needs a pair that is stronger than the ones Jack already has and
needs to get himself his own pair. He doesn’t like it – oh, he hates having to wear glasses, but contacts
drive him up the damn walls so they are out of the question. He thinks they
make him look nerdy and less intimidating.
No one except Anti knows that he needs them. He acts like he
can see the world crystal clear when in reality, he can hardly see the street
signs. It isn’t exactly a good thing when it comes to executing kills because
his precision is off and he often misses his shots. This in turn frustrates
Dark because he hired the guy to do the dirty work and he’s missing the target –
what the fuck?
After nearly losing a seventh victim that month, Dark finally
approaches Anti about it.
“Anti, the execution of your kills hasn’t been… extraordinary lately. Is there a reason
“No,” Anti grumbles, crossing his arms along his chest, “n’
quit questionin’ my killing methods. You won’t even do the kills
yerself so don’t be complainin’.”
Anti proceeds to plop himself down on their couch, flipping
himself so he’s upside down. His feet hang off the top and his head is hanging
off the seat, watching his hair fall back and dangle in the open. It’s evident
that he doesn’t want to talk about the subject any further.
But since when does Dark ever really care about Anti’s
A deep hum vibrates through Dark’s chest as he scrutinises
the green-haired male, completely disregarding his attempt at an insult.
Anti, who’s fully aware he’s being watched, lifts his head to lock eyes with
Dark. He squints them dangerously.
“The fuck are ye lookin’ at?” he spits out.
“You need glasses, don’t you?” Dark suddenly says,
straightening his posture and canting his head to the side, “that’s why you’re
having trouble executing kills properly and squinting at everything. You can’t
“I can see fine!” Anti barks, pushing himself back up onto
the couch and propping himself up with his elbows. His slightly sharper teeth
become more evident as he scowls at Dark.
“Oh, is that so? In that case, I suppose you won’t have any
trouble telling me what that sign across the street says?” Dark lifts a brow as
he points out the window at a little yellow sign with bold black letters on it.
Anti looks over his shoulder at the sign and almost visibly
pales. There’s no way he can read that.
It’s just far enough for the letters to be too blurry to read. They just look
like a black cloud on a yellow sign.
“I don’t need to prove myself to an old man,” Anti sneers,
huffing and sliding off the couch. Before Dark can bring up the subject again,
the green-haired male storms off into another room somewhere in the house,
slamming the door shut behind him.
“Idiot,” Dark sighs, deciding to let the topic go for the
A week passes by after that and yet another nearly failed
kill. Dark didn’t get frustrated this time because he now knows the source of
the problem, he just has to find out how to fix it. Even though he finds it
absolutely ridiculous to have to
chase after Anti for being a big baby who’s in complete denial, if it will help
his case then he is more than willing.
That, and teasing Anti is just so much fun.
“Is it because you don’t like glasses? There are certainly
contacts out there that you could use,” Dark suddenly inquires over dinner one
Anti freezes in his movements and peers up at his friend, a
look of annoyance on his face. He grits his teeth and gives Dark the silent
“Even so, anything is better than being partially blind, don’t
you think?” the other continues, slowly enjoying his meal as though his friend’s
annoyance was nothing but a speck of dust on his shoulder for him to brush off.
There’s a moment of silence between the two. The only sound
in the entire room is that of their utensils against their plates. Anti stops
eating for a minute and simply sits there, picking at the meat in front of him.
“Don’t be stupid, Dark, I can’t wear glasses. I’m not a
nerd,” Anti scoffs, eyes stuck to his plate, “n’ fuck contacts, those little
shits are annoying as all fuck.”
Dark doesn’t say anything after that but instead just lifts
his eyes to look at the man sitting across from him at the table. He almost
wants to laugh at Anti’s comment but refrains from doing so. His mind is at
work throughout the rest of the meal.
After that night, Dark eventually goes through the torturous
process of discovering Anti’s prescription. It takes almost a full week before
he gets the results but when he does, he feels more victorious than he has in
quite some time.
And he decides to get Anti some glasses.
Dark is seated in his favorite chair one evening, relaxing
while enjoying a good book. However, he’s having trouble concentrating on the
letters in front of him. A disheartened sigh escapes his lips at the
realisation that he won’t be able to continue.
Suddenly, a familiar voice makes its way through the once
“DARK, WHAT THE FUCK ARE THESE!?” Anti hollers from his
bedroom. Dark can’t help the smug grin that spreads across his lips.
“They’re glasses, Anti. Try them on,” Dark urges, his tone
calm compared to the other.
There’s a series of quick footsteps that grow louder as Anti
approaches. Dark turns his head towards the open doorway to see Anti storming
in, eyes practically glowing with annoyance.
“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU THAT I DIDN’T WANT ‘EM. I LOOK LIKE A
FUCKIN’ NERD, DARK!” He yells, the pair of black glasses in his hand. His other
is balled into a fist, practically drawing blood from how tightly it’s closed. “DON’T
YOU LISTEN TO ME!?”
In a fit of childish annoyance, Anti lifts his hand with the
glasses held tightly between his fingers. In the split second it takes for Dark
to realise what’s about to happen, Anti’s hand comes toward the ground in full
Dark has never moved so fast in his life. It’s as though he’s
a shadow, glitching from his spot in the chair to Anti’s side. Dark’s large
hand grips Anti’s wrist tightly, preventing him from throwing the glasses onto
the ground and breaking them. His nearly black eyes seem to flash red for a
“YoU wiLL nOt breAK tHeSE, unDersTOoD?”
Dark’s voice is deep, harsh and slicing. Like the biting
cold of winter, it nips at Anti’s childish conscience and fills him with fear.
His hot breath tickles Anti’s ear and he shivers, eyes widening in realisation
at what he was about to do and how pissed
Dark is now. The hold on Anti’s wrist is bone crushing and the green-haired male
grits his teeth.
Dark slowly releases Anti’s wrist and brings his hand back
to his side. After taking in a slow breath, he looks Anti in the eyes with an
“Now, try them on,” he tries again, his voice much softer
Anti is still hesitant and it shows. He glances down at the
glasses in his hand with an expression of disgust. Dark rolls his eyes – he’s
losing his patience.
“Anti, wearing glasses does not make you a nerd,” Dark says
deeply, reaching over to a small table next to his chair. On it sits a pair of
glasses which Anti has surprisingly never seen before. Dark slides them onto
his face and pushes them up his nose gracefully with his finger. “See?”
Anti blinks wordlessly at Dark. His eyes are wide and are
scanning Dark’s face over and over again. He’s never seen this before and Dark
isn’t able to tell whether this reaction is good or bad.
“Now you really look like an old man, Dark,” Anti giggles,
the sound echoing around him and layering over itself.
Dark’s brows rise and his jaw sets. “Anti, you prick, I’m
“But you’re okay-lookin’ for an old man, I guess,” he then
shrugs, a smug smirk on his face.
Dark’s anger and the compliment swirl inside of him and he
shuts his mouth, muttering some profanities under his breath. He looks away for
nothing but a second and when his eyes return to meet Anti’s, he’s met with a
sight he never thought he would see.
Anti is wearing his glasses.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, kiddo,” he says, the
corner of his lips twitching up into a smile.
Anti shrugs off the compliment and quickly takes the glasses
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles as he walks off to his room.
Dark, now feeling satisfied, sits back down into his chair and resumes his reading –
he can see the words much better now.
Both Dark and Anti begin to wear their glasses more often now,
even when they don’t necessarily need them.
Mary (Kim Hunter) accidentally uncovers a secret cult of devil worshippers in Greenwich Village while searching for her missing sister Jacqueline (Jean Brooks, in first pic) in perhaps the darkest and most unusual Val Lewton/RKO horror: The Seventh Victim (1943, Mark Robson). Also pictured above: Hugh Beaumont, Erford Gage and Tom Conway. Some film reviews:
“What other movie opens with Satanism in Greenwich Village, twists into urban paranoia, and climaxes with a suicide? Val Lewton, Russian emigré workaholic, fantasist, was one of the mavericks of Forties Hollywood, a man who produced (never directed) a group of intelligent and offbeat chillers for next-to-nothing at RKO. All bear his personal stamp: dime-store cinema transformed by ‘literary’ scripts, ingenious design, shadowy visuals, brooding melancholy, and a tight rein over the direction. The Seventh Victim is his masterpiece, a brooding melodrama built around a group of Satanists. The bizarre plot involves an orphan (Hunter) searching for her death-crazy sister (Brooks), but also carries a strong lesbian theme, and survives some uneven cameos; the whole thing is held together by a remarkably effective mix of menace and metaphysics — half noir, half Gothic.” — Time Out (December 2016)