#writers of jack

[pxppet]

Rings

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.

Jameson can practically already feel the rolling of worms beneath his flesh – he will be a dead thing on Anti’s floor one day. As Anti comes to kiss his forehead and lead him to their bed with promises of consummation, Jameson feels like he might already be that dead, rotten thing, being eaten away on his husbands floor.

#jj/anti #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #pxppet lore #jse egos #writersofjack #writers of jack #jse fanfiction #dapperanti #my writing #whumpblr #whump #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #whumpee x whumper

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Heya Clanny! Could I ask for an anti x reader where reader's been super busy lately and anti convinces them to take the night off for cuddles? No pressure of course!! - 🐊 anon

"Hello~”

“ALTR 11--oh sorry, Anti.” You corrected yourself, tiredly rubbing both eyes as you stared at the computer screen. “Force of habit.”

Yes, the glitch demon himself--IRIS' "public enemy number one"--was standing right behind you. He could very easily murder you without a second thought.

But he didn’t. He had no drive to.

You’ve been dating him for several years in secret, so you were never afraid of him..and he found the feeling of love to be just as exhilarating as inducing fear.

You were there for him back when his skin was green and his throat wound was a messy bloody scar, still coping with having a human body. Now all of that healed and he looks more human than ever. The glitches still remained, obviously, but they no longer made him twitch violently like before.

Unfortunately, he garnered the attention of IRIS due to his growing power. And as a member of the organization, you had to file reports on him.

You joined a few years back with the promise of giving them valuable information on “ALTR 114209″, researching potential leads and ways to contain him since he’s regarded as “impossible to capture”--and still is to this very day.

But in reality, you’re just writing bullshit documents. No way was “currently dating Dr. [L/N]” going to be any part of that.

So far none of them suspected a thing. You both prefer to keep it that way until you figured out how to sabotage the facility from the inside out.

Though you’ve been typing away all day long, feeling sleep wanting to overtake you.

“Why don’t ya take the night off?” You sensed Anti leaning over your shoulder, hearing the low hum of static. “You’ve done enough work.”

“Since when were you concerned about a human’s well-being, huh?” With a chuckle, you decided to give him what he wanted, saving your document and logging off.

“Only yours. I couldn’t give a shit about anyone else.”

“...true.” You closed the laptop and got up to stretch-

Only to be swept off your feet by the glitch demon. 

“Hey! I can still walk, jackass.” You scowled. He just returned it with a smug grin as he carried you to the bed.

The room was dark, save for his glowing green pupils. They always captivated you--almost hypnotic, in a sense.

Once you were both settled in, he cuddled up to you and put his head on your chest. You smiled and left your hand buried in his hair, massaging his scalp as the two of you eventually dozed off.

It was nice to hold him without worrying about blood getting everywhere.

#aaand here's my attempt to keep up with canon anti haha #clanask #crocodile anon #jse x reader #septic egos x reader #antisepticeye x reader #fluff #antisepticeye #jse iris #writers of jack

[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.”

--------

Prequels are hard to write. Don't recommend.

This is (kinda?) prequel to this

Have a good day

-----

#jacksepticeye #writers of jack #writersofjack #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #egotober 2023 #tw: smoking #tw: bars #tw: drinking #tw: drunk

[jaeyleo]

tws: delirium, hypnosis, captivity, hand feeding

summary: in the puppet!pink au. chase (pink) disrespects pseudo and is hypnotized to a state of extreme delirium and confusion.

i'm still a little rusty comin back but i'm building myself up to continue our cyoa :)! anyway please enjoy!

. . .

The table is set, and Chase sits in the chair assigned to him. Nervous feet dance about under the surface, shaking the glass of water placed before him. He is not allowed to drink until he asks permission.

"Um..." the man starts, looking up at the monster. It cooks at the stove, French toast and hash browns today, with a side of blueberries and strawberries to put on top.

"Um..." mimics Pseudo, after a period of silence.

"Um, I- I was..... I was wondering if I could call someone today."

"Who would you call?"

Who would he call?

Chase perks up at the question.

"C- can I call Stacy?"

Pseudo flips a piece of french toast in the pan. With the way his kitchen is built, whoever cooks at the stove has their back turned to the table. Chase cannot read or attempt to read his captor's expressions.

"I don't think so."

"You d-" Chase bites his tongue, holding back his outburst. "Okay, how about Henrik?"

The monster thinks on it. Or maybe he doesn't. Chase wouldn't know. But it's silent in the room, and the water is still shaking, and the pan is still sizzling, and Pseudo's back is still turned.

"I don't think so," Pseudo finally says.

".... Why not?"

Pseudo only shrugs.

The man's brows furrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Pseudo shrugs again.

Biting his tongue once more, Chase has to take a deep breath. Instead of bickering, he takes a sip of water, giving his sharp tongue something else to do.

Pseudo stops cooking.

"Put the glass down," he says, back still turned.

Chase realizes what he's done, and his heart falls to his stomach. In an act of his own fear, he goes to set the glass back on the table.

But then.. he doesn't.

The room is frozen. Chase isn't sure why he's doing this. But he's angry, and what else does he have to lose?

He takes another drink, staring at Pseudo's back.

"Pink."

"No, I don't.... I- I don't think so."

Pseudo puts the french toast on the plate, decorating with powdered sugar, syrup, and the fruit.

"What don't you think?"

He turns to face the puppet now, plate in hand.

"I don't think I wanna listen to you anymore. I- I think..."

Pseudo steps forward, and the toy falters a moment.

"...... I think I deserve to go home."

The plate is set before Chase, at the table in the chair he is assigned to sit. Nervous feet dance under the surface, shaking the water he wasn't supposed to drink from.

"I think," Pseudo sits down with him, "you aren't feeling like yourself this morning. And you're very sorry for acting like this. Aren't you?"

Chase frowns. He loses eye contact with his captor.

"I don't think so.."

Pseudo shrugs once more, chuckling.

"Then you shouldn't think at all."

Before he can even think to protest, Chase's head is swimming with hypnosis. His entire body goes weak, and the glass ends up crashing to the table. Groaning, the puppet tries to fight, but it feels like the syrup that was used for his breakfast is pouring itself down his throat, his eye sockets, his bloodstream. There is not a single thing he can do to stop it, and every coherent thought he had is replaced with a confused babbling string of nonsense. He can't understand what he's feeling, can't understand what he's saying, can't understand any of it.

He hears cooing, baby talk, somewhere far away. He didn't realize he fell into the table until he's being guided back up, a firm hand on his neck and jaw to keep his attention.

"Pink, Pink? Can you hear me?"

"Hkk-"

"No no, don't try to speak. Just nod or shake your head."

Pink nods, desperate for stability. What's happened? When did? What does powdered sugar sees to the table one hand on the on the theres? Does the stove on counter down wear the?

"Ah- h--!" Chase whiiiiines, fearful of his own messy train of thought.

"Shhh, shhh, don't think. Look at me, Pink. You're alright. Here...."

A blueberry is plucked from the plate and presented to Pink's mouth.

"Open up."

He obeys without thinking. Pseudo is the only thing he can focus on, even with vision blurred. For once everything else is scarier than he is.

"Good job, Pink. Now I have a very important question for you, are you ready?"

Chase nods his head. Is he ready? What's going on?

"What do you think?"

Pink chokes on his own words, shaking his head.

What does he think? What does he think? What does he think? The nonsensical words jumbled in his brain begin to die, and he is left with nothing but empty. Nothing but Pseudo. Pseudo, Pseudo, Pseudo, Pseudo, Pseudo is what he thinks. He thinks, he thinks? No, he isn't thinking. He's confused, wait, what does he think?

"Help," Pink finally whispers, terrified in his confusion.

"Poor thing," Pseudo frowns. He is sure to speak slow, steady. "You need to answer my question first, and then I can help you, okay?"

What was the question? What did he say??

"Wh--- H?"

"What do you think?"

Pink begins to cry, not understanding what's being asked of him.

#tw delerium #tw hypnosis #tw food #tw captivity #writers of jack #chase brody #chase barrens #puppet pink #my writing #my egos #whump writing #whump drabble #its a 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.

#hunger games au #chase brody #jameson jackson #jse hunger games au #jse fanfic #jacksepticeye #Writers of Jack #writersogjack #Mod Parker #jse #jse egos

[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

#writers of jack #awakened aura #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #darkiplier #markiplier #chase brody #all the egos are here #most of them just don't do a lot in this chapter

[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

#jacksepticeye #jse community #marvin the magnificent #marvin the magician #angst #whump #jj #jameson jackson #IRIS #Whumptober #whumptober2022 #no. 2 #nowhere to run #writers of jack

[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.

#writersofjack #writers of jack #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticeye AU #torture tw #abuse tw #hypnosis tw #brainwashing tw #whump #whump writing #fandom whump #tw captivity #captivity whump #whumpee #multiple whumpees

[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.)

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #writers of jack #marvin the magnificent #dr schneeplestein #henrik von schneeplestein #kit writes #hey instead of a snippet yall get the whole scrimshaw piece. its done! enjoy #ill save directorial comments on thi #for later; rn yall get these

[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.

#marvin the magnificent #chase brody #jackieboy man #henrik von schneeplestein #jameson jackson #jacksepticeye #writers of jack #writersofjack #pxppet lore

[pxppet]

"Tell me, and do be honest. For what purpose did you steal me?" Elliot points the fingers of his touching hands at the scientist like a stereotypical Sherlock, a contemplative grin on his face.

They look up from the papers they had been shredding across the room, turning in their rolling chair to face the ALTR. "I told you, and while I don't mind telling you again, I wish it'd sink in: I saved you from that awful place. You lived a long, dreadful life and- and you're only 19, yet. It's not- I needed to-" They sigh, massaging their temple to knot out the stress.

Elliot picks at the sleeves of his sweater, distant. His entire right hand is bandaged in gauze from an 'incident' during his transport. But Elliot is used to incidents, particularly ones where he is the culprit. "Where did the clothes you dress me in come from," he tests, immediately getting his answer as the scientist stiffens and turns their chair away slightly, half going back to destroying documents, half considering if Elliot even needs verbal confirmation.

"From the store, Elliot. Remember the store, the big store I went into and you had to hide in the car?"

"Store," Elliot tries out the word on his tongue, giving a hum of approval. "So, doctor, was it a spouse or a chil-"

The scientist slaps their own leg in shock and turns around to look at him with eyes that shut him up immediately. When they see him shrink under the blankets with his wide, orange eyes, they immediately untense and correct themselves. "Im sorry, it's okay. It's- it's not polite to ask certain questions. I know the testers don't... hold back on you ALTRs, but out here, people don't ask such personal things."

"Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that impacted you significantly," Elliot mumbles under a breath, almost too faint to be heard. The colour is gone from his face, and he suddenly lies back down, quieted by being startled.

The scientist licks their lips, brow creasing with pity. "I have supplies for burritos tonight. It's something you've never tried before. It has meat. You'll like it." They turn back around and gnaw at their lip with guilt as they resume their tasks of covering up Elliot's vanishing.

"Doctor," he calls softly over the whirring of the shredder. "Thank you for letting me wear your child's sweater." He yawns, seemingly exhausted into frail sleep yet again. "I think it is the only clothing I've ever enjoyed. I will get no blood on it."

The blunt confession is the first outright thanks they've received so far, and their hands clench shakily around the papers. They blink away tears. What do you even respond to that with? What could possibly addendum such a genuine thanks?

They turn back to face him, mouth already forming words, but when they see him, he has gone back to sleep. They sigh. They will shred papers. Then they will make burritos. Then they will care for this strange and wild little ALTR as much as they can. No matter what.

#Late night early morning - I was immediately thinking of them #Elliot reading them like a book due to only having social exposer to testers and scientist is really funny to me #altr elliot #irisona #iris sona #iris oc #jse iris #writersofjack #writers of jack #whump #whumpee #parental caretaker #caretaker #whump caretaker #science whump #rescue whump

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Sick

"I can’t stand living here. When do I get to go home?”

“Chase, listen..I know you don’t wanna be here, just as much as I don’t want you to be here. But you’ll have to cooperate with us-”

“How much longer do I need to “cooperate”, huh?! I’ve been as obedient as a goddamn dog ever since I got here.” The father at the opposite end of the table scowled at you, glaring at the IRIS logo on your lab coat. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to talk to yet another scientist. But it’s not like he had any choice in the matter.

He could always stay silent, though it wouldn’t make you leave him alone. You were too damn determined to talk to him.

“I do literally everything you ask of me..and it’s never enough! When will I know what’s really going on?!” He continued to rant.

Despite his increasingly aggressive attitude, you had to remain calm and remind him of the camera stationed nearby. Its light glowed an eerie red, indicating its detection of heightened negative emotion. 

"I understand your confusion, but please do not shout.” You gently urged. “If the camera detects too much negativity, we’ll have to cut this conversation short. And I'd hate to leave without telling you anything important."

“I don’t give a shit about--!! Wait..what did you wanna tell me? Something I don’t already know?” Calming down only slightly, Chase blinked in bewilderment.

This was certainly a turn of events. Usually he just repeated the same old shit to the other scientists; telling them what they likely already knew. But you were different--you wanted to tell him something important instead.

“A lot of it’s confidential, but I’m able to tell you this much about why we need you here..” Pausing, you opened the folder beside you, gazing at the files contained within it. “A few years back, you’ve openly admitted to a YouTube audience about your depression and your friend’s coma. You would say both are..terrible occurrences that have impacted you significantly, no?”

“Well..I mean, sure. But how did you-”

"We’ve had a WTCHR camera installed in the recording studio for the past five years. It picks up all visual and audio stimuli. And due to unusual activity on the computer itself, our systems were able to tap into it as well.”

“What the hell..” You could barely hear Chase muttering under his breath. “So IRIS was stalking me this whole time?”

“..it was for safety, Chase. Believe me, I know you value your privacy. But given the paranormal circumstances leading up to your friend’s coma-”

“Jack.”

“Pardon?”

“His name..is Jack.” He spoke through gritted teeth, hands balling themselves into fists. “All along you knew something was wrong. Everyone I ever talked to before this thought I lost my fucking mind. They thought I was crazy! But you guys knew, and did nothing. You all just watched as this happened to us!! As he tormented us!! YOU’RE SICK, YOU KNOW THAT?!!”

The slamming of fists made you tense, although your gaze quickly flickered to the guard stationed near the door. He seemed ready to sedate Chase at a moment’s notice, but then again he was always on-edge...or just annoyed it was getting close to his lunch break.

Looking back at your patient, it broke your heart a little to see him start to cry. Clearly, all of this had taken such a heavy toll on him--you couldn’t blame the poor guy who used to have a loving family and a decent career..all gone up in smoke.

He had his snark with the other scientists and guards, though this seemed to be his breaking point.

If you were held captive for months in a facility studying paranormal sciences with little to no answers on what was going on..you’d eventually crack, too.

"Doctor..I just want to understand..” Chase clutched at his cap, eyes closed and cheeks streaked with tears. “Is it him? Is it because I’ve made contact with him?!”

“Yes.” You sighed softly, leaning over the table to rest your arms, opting for a more casual posture. “We believe the events you spoke of are connected to this singular entity. We’ve been tracking him since 2016, but he’s tried sabotaging our systems so..it’s difficult to know his next move. Even IRIS doesn’t fully understand what he is or what he wants.”

“Wow, that’s reassuring..” He remarked sarcastically, sniffling as he opened his eyes. “All you need to know is that he’s some weird...virus demon who wants to hurt people and take over my life. I don’t know why he chose me, but..h-he’ll do anything to get his way. Even if it means killing everyone here.”

“Are you threatening us?” The guard’s voice suddenly boomed, startling you slightly--and especially Chase. You scowled at him for speaking without permission and intentionally aggravating the father, but the latter seemed more frightened than angered.

“No, I’m..I’m telling you the truth! I’m trying to warn you guys! He could be watching us right now!!” His increasing paranoia was captured by the camera, its red light brightening once more.

“Chase, even if he is..you’re much safer in this facility than in your own home." You attempted to defuse the situation. "We’ll be here to intervene should he try anything. He's not gonna hurt you. You have my word."

That didn’t do much to calm him down, as he just looked back at you with a scoff, although he did lean back in his chair. He then removed his hat to rub the side of his head, groaning in pain. “God, I got a fuckin’ headache...this is a lot to take in..”

“I’ll send a nurse to deliver Tylenol. But I think we can stop here for today. I’ll let you rest and give you time to process all of this.” Closing the file, you stood up and glanced at him with a twinge of pity. “I promise we’ll get you out of here soon. See you next time, Chase.”

Eventually he decided to climb into his bed, turning away from the camera’s light and staring at the wall.

“Yeah..see ya.” With a huff, he took the tennis ball on the table and held it in his hands, nails digging into the shedding lime green fabric.

He heard your footsteps, along with the guard’s as you both exited his cell, once again leaving him alone with his thoughts.

As much as he despised being here against his will, you were a genuinely nice scientist who actually gave him clarity on some things. You spoke in a way that made sense--without all the technical jargon that your colleagues spewed (and somehow expected him to understand).

He only hopes you can keep him at bay.

#soooo new x reader concept dropped!!! #my days of writing scp scientist!readers have prepped me for this #also whatever iris stuff i write prior to the project vid dropping is pure speculation #clanask #jse x reader #septic egos x reader #chase brody x reader #jse iris #scientist reader #platonic #one word prompt #chase brody #writers of jack

[parkswritessometimes]

Cape

Egotober Day 1: Cape

Egotober by: @tracobuttons

“Chase? Come on dude, open up.” Marvin's fist connected to his friend's door sending shock waves throughout the apartment. Chase had locked the door almost twelve hours ago, smelling of sweet whiskey and smoke, stumbling around and mumbling about some random idiot who tried to hit him or something. “Chase! I swear to god if you don’t open this door, I’m going to get Jackie to break it down and you’ll be paying for it!”

Marvin waited and waited but there was no response. It had been almost a week since Chase went out like this. Usually the next day he’d get an ‘I’m alive’ text or a grumble at breakfast but there was nothing. No sounds, no message, nothing. His stomach twisted with fear, as hot tears formed in his eyes threatening to spill over. His hands grew hot with anger as his magic threatened to spill out. What if this was it? What if he had gone too far and…What if he was dead in that room?

“Chase Brody, I swear to God!” A fireball formed in Marvin’s hands as he rattled the doorknob, melting the brass into a pool of liquid metal on the floor. He pushed in the white door revealing a room of darkness. The blinds were shut as far as they could go, anything that could produce light was covered in blankets or towels. And Chase, poor Chase, wrapped in Marvin’s favorite cape curled up in the middle of his bed.

Marvin’s cruel scowl softened into a kind smile as he sat down next to his friend, his hand pressed up against Chase’s hot face. Waves of relief crashed onto Marvin nearly bringing him to tears as he watched Chase squeezed his eyes shut and roll over bringing his black cape over his throbbing head.

Most days Marvin would be furious about someone, even thinking about touching his stuff. Furry would build up as he would search and scour the house, turning every piece of furniture upside down only to have learned that Jackie had “put it away”. But he couldn’t bring himself to get mad at Chase. His friend curled up in his cape that he made with his own magic, warmed his cold heart.

“You alive in there?” Marvin asked gently, shaking his friend. “No.” “I think you’re lying to me,” Marvin tried to smile at his friend, peeling his black cape off of Chase. The smell of sweat and vomit hit Marvin all at once as he revealed his friend. The once-happy father laid curled around a bottle of his favorite whiskey. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up, Chaser?” “Don’t want to. Just wanna rot.” Chase rolled over bringing the cape with him.

“I know you want to, but you don’t get to. So why don’t you get in the shower, and put on some clean clothes and I’ll get these sheets all cleaned up?” Marvin’s heart swelled as Chase mumbled some curse words before nodding, agreeing to the deal. Pops and crackling bones came from Chase’s body as he stretched his body, before getting out of bed, taking the cape with him.

The second the door closed to the bathroom, Marvin started stripping the sheets off the bed. Mysterious stains fought with the original light gray fabric for attention. Crumbs from late-night snacks fell to the floor as Marvin tossed the sheets aside. He grabbed fresh group linens from the closet and got to work. Pale yellow sheets and pillows brought new life into the room. Pillows lined up in perfect order with the perfect drape of the comforter brought a sense of control and cleanliness back to the room.

Steam poured out the door nipping at Marvin’s feet as Chase exited the bathroom. A fresh pair of sweatpants and a clean shirt now graced the poor man's frame, and on his shoulder’s Marvin’s cape. Marvin scooted over on the bed making room for his friend. The two leaned in close, taking comfort in each other's warmth.

“I-I really wanna stop drinking Marv, I really do.” “I know Chaser. I know.” “I try and try and every single time I fuck up and I can’t-I’m just so-” Marvin watched as Chase tried to get the right words out, but he didn’t need to. Marvin understood. Sobriety was terrifying, even 18 months clean Marvin could still feel the pull of his former addictions, beginning him for just one more chance. Just one more spell, just one more time.

“I know Chase, I know. But you gotta try.” Marvin bumped Chase getting his attention. “How about this, since you seem to love my cape so much, for every AA meeting you go to, you can keep it for the rest of the week.”

Chase pulled the cape close to his body. The black fabric acted almost as a shield to his soul. The galaxy fabric imbued with magic that lined the inside sent pulses of magic into Chase’s broken mind. “But you love this cape, and I-I stole it and you-” “Hey, that doesn’t matter, I’ll make a new one. And if this is what gets you to go to those meetings, it's worth it.” Marvin touched his forehead to Chase’s and wiped the stray tears that fell from Chase’s eyes. “I would give up anything if it meant that you were happy.” “Okay,” Chase nodded, “It’s a deal.”

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Me: *sees the prompt*

Me: Okay so how far can I deviate from the prompt without deviating too far?

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I take requests!

Reblogs > Likes

#jacksepticeye #writers of jack #writersofjack #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #egotober 2023

[jaeyleo]

tws: delusions, dehumanization, captivity, meltdown, self harm through hitting self against a surface

summary: yet another puppet!pink drabble. pink has a delusion that the tv is trying to communicate with him.

. . .

Pink lays on the couch, mindlessly watching cartoons. He can't handle anything other than these recently. If he changes the channel, he'll find real people inside the tv. He'll try to have a conversation, he'll try to ask for help, but they never listen to him. They only talk to each other, as if they can't hear Pink at all, and it's very frustrating. Pseudo decided it's best to stay on the children's channels anyway.

So here he lays, melding into the sofa like liquid in a glass. The cartoons switch to commercial, showing off toys and teasers for other shows. He's bored, bored, bored of it.

Click, he switches the channel.

Another cartoon, 3D animated. Poorly.

Click.

The news. He's not allowed to watch the news.

Click.

A sitcom. A funny family in a brightly colored house. They look interesting. But they're real, and they'll ignore him.

He goes to switch the channel when he hears one of them say his name. "Chase!"

The man sits up, confused, wondering, do they see me?

"Chase!" they call again, and a little boy comes running into the screen. They begin talking to one another, laughing tracks and clapping tracks and-

"There you are, Chaser!"

He tumbles off the couch, scrambling to the tv. Desperate hands collide with the screen, curling fingers and clawing nails. He wants to get inside. He needs to get inside. They have to hear him!

"Hello?" he calls, watching the family as they walk around the house. His view keeps flickering to different angles, different people, he can't focus on just one. He has to try to get all of their attention.

"Y- you called me, you called me, you called Ch- Chase didn't you?"

It feels odd to say his own name. It doesn't feel like his own name, but he knows it is. That is his name. His own name.

"Listen, listen, can y- can you hear me?? You called me didn't you??"

They ignore him, like always. Tears prick his eyes as he scoots closer, just inches away from the family. They're so close he can almost feel the warmth of their skin on his fingertips.

"Please," he frowns, "Please..."

He keeps waiting, listening to their conversations. If they called his name, they have to know he's there, right?

So he waits. He listens.

"Now what do you mean baseball didn't go well?" the father says. He has his arms folded and a smirk on his face. "Did you try to run away with the bat instead of the ball again? Or let me guess: you threw the mitt!"

Laughing track, the little boy scrunches up his face.

"No dad, this time I threw the bat!"

He folds his arms to mimic his father. Laughing, laughing, laughing track. They're so loud in Pink's ears.

"Can't you hear me??" he cries. Tears fall and fall down his face, hot, fat droplets soaking into his pants. "Listen to me! You know I'm here, y- you know I'm here, help me!!"

He bangs on the tv, the rounded screen plink plink plinking with every hit. He claws at the glass, an animal tearing into gut for food.

The screen begins to fade, and credits begin rolling.

"No!!!"

He wails, banging his head into the television screen.

"You called me! You saw me!!!"

Footsteps approach the living room and he feels Pseudo's presence. The puppet crumbles into himself, but before he can hit his head on the ground and tear into his own flesh, he has warm arms wrapping around him.

"Pink, Pink, it's okay.."

Pseudo rocks the man back and forth. Gentle, gentle movements. A hand rests at the back of his hair to soothe, cradling the poor thing against his chest. His shirt is wet from tears.

"They saw me," he sobs. "They saw me, they saw me, they called me!"

"I know. I know, Pink, I know."

The puppet clings to its keeper, comforted in his attention.

#tw delusion #tw captivity #tw meltdown #tw self harm #puppet pink #chase barrens #writers of jack #whump writing #whump #whumpee #emotional whump #pseudo #my characters #tw dehumanization

[eyesofanantihero]

Bringing this AU back to life!

Hello and welcome back to Eyes of an Antihero! I'm JJ of @pxppet and this au was gifted to me by the original owner. Here are the boys references and on my blog you can find examples of my art! Art below is by the original owner @envioussidereus

The previous blog left off with the boys coping and trying to work together after the parasite Anti fused into their friend Jackie. But the fusion goes by Bresal now... and has a strange new obsession.

#eyes of an antihero #art #septicart #jacksepticeye #writersofjack #writers of jack #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticeye au #jse egos

[pencilpat]

Chapter Three Trickshot you poor sweet thing, Anti literally molded him into a perfect copycat of younger Jack (Except, you know, the scars and trauma and panic disorder that were caused by Anti in the first place, but it’d take a much different glitch bitch to get that admission outta him 🙄)

Trick/Chase is from the fic @my-brothers-corrupted by @beerecordings! :D

#chase brody #my brothers corrupted #septicart #jacksepticeye #writers of jack #writersofjack #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticeye fanfic #jse fanart #jacksepticeye fanart #jse egos #jacksepticeye au #jacksepticeye egos au