Egotober Day 1: Hat

Southward

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Eight

A JSE Fanfic

This chapter is pretty short (by my standards.) I sat down intending to get to the action, but I realized I couldn’t skip straight to it and there was all this other stuff that had to come first, so I decided to put all that into its own part and included some conversations between characters so it wasn’t just all exposition lol. Here, Chase and Henrik and a bunch of others all travel south, getting ready to rescue Marvin. Will they make it in time? Who knows? All I know is that shit’s going down soon. Enjoy this shorter part before that.

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Even though it was in the name, Chase hadn’t expected the flatlands to be so…flat.

It wasn’t as though he’d never been on flat ground before. The floors of houses were fixed, as were the grounds where farms raised their crops, and even in the mountains there were stretches of level land. But he’d never been in an area that was so consistently flat. It was a bit unusual. He felt out of his element. If he’d known it would be like this, he might not have agreed to join the group sent to rescue Marvin.

Of course, he was honored that Henrik asked him to come. He could tell that everyone else on this mission was much more experienced than he was. Henrik himself was coming, as were Lukas and Tripp, meaning about half the leadership of Wyvernlair was currently not there. A sign of how important this was. But still. Part of him couldn’t help but feel he might be a liability, being so far out of his element.

Keep reading

hey, can you tell me some info on S!Jameson Jackson pls?

Sure! There’s not much to tell since he sleeps most of the time, but he does have his moments :D

He has a pile of stuffed animals, courteous of Chase getting him or anyone whatever they wants with the money he’s earned. They share the mountain of stuffed animals Chase bought, Chase stealing around half back to his room when he stays the night and bringing them back the next day.

Will sometimes carry one of his stuffed animals with him when he leaves his room.

Will only leave his room for essentials! Nothing else makes him leave, unless Henrik deems it as urgent he is going to be laying in his bed no matter what.

Is very clumsy, sometimes needs help holding things in his hands since he is very shaky and not too strong since he doesn’t really eat or take care of himself like he should.

Whenever he does walk out of his room, he usually makes it to the couch before passing out there.

Henrik has to persistently remind him and push him to get out of bed to do essentials such as going to eat, to go take a shower, etc. Sometimes Jameson will go days without doing either and gives Henrik a miniature heart attack when he sleeps like a rock.

He is the reason Henrik wants this cured as fast as possible <3

Happy 2-year anniversary to A Heist With Markiplier! feat. some of my favourite endings!

Okay, imagine Anti makes the rest of the egos to summon a demon, but it goes all wrong. The demon possesses JJ, who is now worse than Anti and Dark together so he needs to be stopped at all cost, but it's not as easy as they think it is.

Oh I adore this!

He’s chaotic but elegent and always plans ahead. The demon is in JJ’s head and JJ knows pretty much all the egos. So it knows their weaknesses.

JJ is fighting the entire time but really he was a puppet before why not just give in?

The Calm and the Storm

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Nine

A JSE Fanfic

Finally, we reach the action! Henrik, Chase, and the others are here to rescue Marvin! Will everything go smoothly? Either way, I’m excited to show you guys :D I’ve been planning this for a while now, and it’s nice to finally have another actiony part in this AU. And, yeah, I have nothing else to say. Short author’s note. Hope you guys enjoy ^-^

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Chase woke up to someone shaking him. He rolled over, and looked up to see Henrik. “Hhrm?”

“Ah, sorry to wake you,” Henrik said apologetically. “But we are about to start planning. I thought you would want to join.”

“Oh. Right.” Chase sat up, and looked around. It didn’t really feel like any time had passed since he’d laid down to take a nap. And it didn’t look like it had, either, since the windows to the inn room were thick, blocking out all light when they were drawn. “Of course.”

“Great. We are meeting in the other room. Follow me.”

They were planning in another inn room, which was rather small with about fifteen people crowded into it. By the time Henrik and Chase arrived, all available sitting areas had been taken, including on top of the beds. Chase closed the door behind him as they entered, and awkwardly leaned against the nearby wall.

Weiterlesen

A Disney AU

I’ve been toying around with this idea for a while so I’m gonna post the first chapter and see how it does. If y’all like it I’ll post more. Either way, I like it, Anyway here’s Chapter 1 of Marvin and Jameson’s story. 

Jameson knew from the moment he could first form his own thoughts that Anti didn’t love him. He knew he kept him away from the outside because he wasn’t like everyone else. Anti never told him why he was different but he knew he was. Maybe it was because he wasn’t magic like Marvin, but he wouldn’t allow Marvin to go outside ether. Was it because he has no voice? But that wasn’t even his fault. Maybe it was all his scars. Jameson didn’t care much anymore.

“Jaaaaames” a familiar voice whined from above “Is breakfast ready?” Jamie looked up in the rafters to see Marvin, his long braid falling to just below his knees. Anti had brought home some fresh flowers and Marvin had selfishly decided to have Jamie braid them into his long hair. Not that Jamie care all that much, they weren’t for him anyway. They were for Marvin. Everything was for Marvin. The tower they’re in, the food Anti brings home, the paints, the flowers, all for Marvin. Jameson was pretty sure that even he was a gift for the magician. A companion. Or at the very least a sacrifice to him. Jameson nodded and motioned for him to come down. He looked at the eggs in the skillet.

Weiterlesen

:D that's me

(Oh hey look the ask box is working again) Could I request Anti taunting one of the others with an “if anything happened to you…”? I’m feeling some angst and pain today. I want to see this protection stuff flipped on its head. (Also, hope you’re doing well, writer bean!) - Vic

(Was it broken? Oh dear. And I am doing pretty well today! I woke up at 5 am because of restless sleep but it just gave me a chance to browse and watch YouTube extra!)

(Blood, strangling, and violence warnings!)

Jameson scrambled away from the villain, but the man was much faster. And his leg wasn’t wounded. He grabbed the back of Jameson’s shirt, yanking him back and throwing him on the ground. Jameson’s head slammed on the ground an his breath was knocked out of him. His vision went dark for a second, and even after  it was still blurry and unfocused. There was a harsh ringing in his ears, and a throbbing pain that felt like he was getting repeatedly stabbed in the brain. The man picked him up like he was nothing.

“You…you some kind of twin? You look just like that stupid hero who locked me up. Only reason I think you ain’t him is he wouldn’t shut up,” the man growled. He sounded echoy and far away. Jameson screamed as the man slammed him into a wall. “Bet he cares about you huh? More than all those worthless people he loves saving?” Jameson clawed at the man’s hand that was wrapped around his neck, pinning him to the wall. But he couldn’t focus, Something wet dripped down his neck, wet and warm. The man grinned. “I bet he’d get real upset if you died.”

Jameson had barely registered what had been said before the man’s grip on his neck became tighter, cutting off all of his air. His legs kicked wildly, he pulled at the man’s hand, tried to pry his fingers apart, can’t breath, can’t breath can’t breath can’tbreathcan’tbreathcan’tbreath!

The ringing in his ears got worse, making his head hurt even worse. Panic overtook him. The ring was joined by white noise. He was going to die. The white noise grew more intense. He couldn’t think anymore. The white noise turned into…

Suddenly he was out of the man’s grasp, laying on the floor of the alleyway and gasped for breath. His body burned, and the static raged in his ears. His panic turned into rage. the man had tried to kill him. He got to his feet, feeling like he was being pulled up. A knife appeared in his hand. 

The man had tried to kill him.

So…why not rȩt̕u̕r̵ǹ ̧t̛he̢ f̢a͡v҉o͝r?͠

The thought wasn’t…it didn’t come from Jameson…but it was in his head, and he liked it. He felt himself glitch, and now he was pinning the man to the wall. The man stared at him, terror shining in his eyes. Jameson reveled in it, in the way the man shook while he slowly pressed the knife into his stomach. The sick elation he felt, it wasn’t entirely his, he was sure it started somewhere else.

 But the pain in his head, the blood flowing down his neck and back, the static in his ears, the little whispers he could hear in the static now, they made him not care. He was enjoying himself. It didn’t matter if the joy didn’t come from him.

He tilted his head, grinning, loving the way the man paled while his body jerked and glitched in all different directions. Jameson’s speech slide did just the same. “I ́w҉on͜d̕er͡ i̡f̸ a͞n̕yone w͟i̶l͢l̡ ̢ca͝r̀e ̛wh͢e҉n͘ ͏you di͟e?͟”

He didn’t stab the man in the stomach.

He slit his throat.

Jameson stumbled back, his breath stolen again as the glitches left him, and he collapsed to his hands and knees. He heard the man’s body thud to the ground. He didn’t look at it. He looked at his shirt. It was spattered with blood. Tears rolled down his face. No, no he-he didn’t…he couldn’t have enjoyed…no…

He felt a hand on his back. A cold, spastic hand. “G̢ơo͞d͜ j͜ob͡, ̕pupp̶e͜t. Ḩe͏ wa͞s ̷so sc͝a̕r͡e͟d.͝”

Jameson shivered. “W-why? Why not let him kill me?”

Anti glitched in front of Jameson and lifted the young egos head so that they were face-to-face. “I h̕a͡vè s͢o͏ ̵m̶uch̛ ͡ṕl͏ann̕ęd͝ fo̸r̴ ͝y͝ơư li̡tt̵l̶e ̧p̕u͢p̨p̵ét.If͜ s̵om͝et҉hi͜n͘g ̴hap̷pe̸n̶e̴d to͜ ̸y̴oų.́.́.͜I ҉c͞a̧n̕'t͝ ͘h͝ave͟ ̢my p̛la̡n̵s̨ go̢ ͝to͞ ̨w̴às͟t̸e,͠ ̕c̴a̛n Ì?͞”

Anti’s ran a hand through Jameson’s hair. It ran over the back of his head. Anti ginned at the pain that flashed in Jameson’s eyes. He laughed. “T̕r̀y̵ n̕o͘t̷ ̀ţo ͏b͠le͞ed ou͠t,̕ ͏p̕u̶ppet͢.̴ ̡Y̴o͜u̸ ͟s͠ḩou̡l̡d p͝ra͡y you͝r̨ ͝doct̷or͘ ҉d͜oe͜s̶n̡'͏t fail̛ t̨h̴is̷ ́tìm͜e.͝”

And then Anti was gone.

Jameson fumbled for the cell phone he had in his pocket. He texted Schneep, smearing blood across the screen. He tried not to look at the corpse across from him. His hands were shaking and the message was riddled with errors. But he hit send. He crawled to the other wall and leaned against it. 

He should be dead by now. If not by the man then surely by blood loss. But he wasn’t. Because of the glitch.

Anti had saved him. He’d made him kill a man, he’d made him have fun killing the man, but he’d saved him.

It sickened Jameson to the core.

So cute ^^

“Movie” dark x jj

The whirring of film being read echoes in Jameson’s ears in the little camera booth. He watches through the hole projection room’s wall as the theatre fills up. He smiles, threading film around the camera’s wheel, a sense of pride filling him as he does his job well. He sits at the wooden table in the room, the chair cruel and wooden on his aching shoulders and back. Flip the switches and thread the film. Simple enough, yet well-paying for a war-time job. Distracted by the rolling of the camera and the safety of the projection booth, the high pitched whining in the air goes unnoticed.

An hour later, the movie ends, The Last Rose of Summer echoing in his head. Jameson hitches up his belt, sighing and straightening out his clothes. They are a bit tattered, a bit tight-fitting, but it helps the time traveler blend in in this post-depression era. Ready to close for the night, his boss hurries him out of the room, leading him scurrying from the door of Trimmer’s Theatre without even signing goodbye. 

He pulls his jacket around himself, shivering. Now out in the open, a high little whine fills the air, though the song plays on in his head.

When true hearts lie withered,    And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit    This bleak world alone?

“Alone?”

Jameson whips around as a hand touches his shoulder. No one... is there anyone? He swears someone’s eyes watch him from the darkness. He pulls his coat tighter, huffing out anxious breaths, turning to walk to his apartment swiftly, steps unsure and fainting. He cannot wait to get to the apartment’s solitude and travel back to the future with his warm little house and caring little family- 

Something shoves him hard. He crumbles to the ground, waiting for the feeling of smacking into it- But the feeling doesn’t come. Rather, a thick blackness, like ink but smelling of flesh and earth, surrounds him entirely. He is laying on an unseen floor. Whispering voices circle him. His eyes dance around wildly, curling up in his jacket, panting so hard he feels his lungs will fail. 

“Alone, Jameson?” A voice echoes all around him, and he jumps up to his feet, scrabbling for a knife at his side, eyes darting around looking for the obvious threat. 

Something steps from the darkness. A corpse that might’ve once been a man, or a woman, with glowing, piercing blue eyes and bedraggled rotting hair. Jameson takes a shaky breath, stepping backward. 

“Looking for this, little time traveler?” The figure holds up his knife, now dripping with black shadows and half-consumed by the monster’s hand. Jameson bends slightly at the waist, ready to fight. But the monster throws the blade forward, the deafening clatter echoing through the ink. “No matter. Here, take it. You cannot kill me in any way that matters. I have... a proposition for y- 

An hour later, the movie ends, The Last Rose of Summer echoing in his head. Jameson hitches up his belt. Oh god. He stands suddenly, his chair crashing to the floor. Someone, or something, has found him. They know he is a time traveler, his name, his weapons, his whole being. 

He shakily brushes curls from his face, tucking them into his hat. 

Psst.

Jameson whips around, eyes wide. The light buzzes in his ears. 

Suddenly, he is in the theatre. He is sitting in one of the chairs, flipped down and accommodating, a bag of popcorn sitting on the armrest. 

“As I was saying, little traveler,” sounds a voice from the darkness. Jameson whips around, gripping the armrest, his gaze sharp and ready to kill. Rather than the corpse, there is an absolutely gorgeous man sitting next to him. Jameson blinks in surprise, shocked by the soft brown eyes and grey-tinted but clear and bright skin, the swirl of raven black hair covering one of their eyes, and the prim proper suit. 

The being turns to face him, the room dark except for the glowing, empty screen. 

“You are fascinating, I hope you know. Thinking you could escape timelessness, bah.” The being chuckles darkly, smiling a bit too widely with perfect teeth. Jameson scowls, having no time for this shit. 

“What do you want,” he signs. 

“I don’t speak BSL-”

Before the being can finish, Jameson pulls out a notepad and a ballpoint pen, his lips set stonily and eyes radiating frustration. 

What do you want? he writes, shoving the pad in the entity’s face. The being peers at him around it with eyes that are far to friendly. 

“Oh, not much, don’t fret. I simply came for a chat. You fascinate me, as I have said. It is rare a human does, consider yourself lucky.”

What makes me fascinating?

“No matter, all in good time. For now, little traveler, you may call me Dark.”

Jameson stifles a cheeky grin. 

He holds up the pad with a drawing of a middle finger raising hand on it. The being blinks, then raises an eyebrow. 

“I suppose the politeness of the British was a lie, of course,” it comments. Jameson turns away, setting the pad on his leg. 

I could just time travel away.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Scared, scared, scared,” offers Dark’s echo. Jameson closes his eyes. It is true, he’s scared. This is the first supernatural entity he has spoken to without Anti there to defend him. His confidence is a façade and he can tell Dark knows it.

“You have immense power. Even greater than mine. Forgive me for flattering, but you may just be the most powerful magician I have ever come across.” Jameson startles as the entity reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out his watch. The dark hand fiddles with it, feeling the radiating magic that smells of dust and blood. “I would love it if you would... assist me. There is someone I want to make pay. Name your price.” Beautiful brown-gold eyes glint up at JJ as the being lets the watch fall back against his chest. His mustache twitches. He glares, raising an eyebrow. 

He picks up the notepad. 

Sets it down.

Picks it up. 

Protection. I have a demon, my monster. Keep him away.

“I know of your demon. Our creators introduced us long before we played these silly games.” Dark picks at his suit. “Very well then, consider it done. You have never been safer than in the hands of my soldiers and myself. Jameson Jackson will be the name your Anti dies fearing.”

Jameson smiles, a twinge of blackness slipping into his eyes as whispers surround him, light playing over his face from the movie screen. Make him pay, echoes through his brain. Make him pay for all he did to you. 

Dark smiles. Yes. Make him pay. Make them all pay for what he did. In an instant they are gone, leaving Jameson alone, a rose falling from the air in place of the being. Passions combined often make fearsome alliances. 

◼ ⬛ -   Wing!Ego Concepts - ⬛ ◼

Edwin/Marvin ( Leader ) - Snowy owl 

Jackie ( Cargo / Weapons carrier ) - Blue Banded Fire Dragon

Vincent/Antisepticeye ( Weapons smith ) - Green Finned Acid Dragon

Robbie the Zombie ( Loner ) - Black Bat

Henrik ( Medic ) - Whooping crane

Mordechai/Chase ( Scout ) - Harris hawk

Jameson - ( Cloudling caretaker / Head of cavalry charges ) - Pied crow

@sneezemaster ‘s Gear!Ego Concepts - here