There's Like 90 Hours Of Backstory Grind For This. Just Take It.

America's Suitehearts (Evil!Marvin)

(I was listening to Fall Out Boy and got inspired! I know they aren’t American but it’s a common enough phrase, yeah? These are connected to a couple prompt requests I did a while ago, but they aren’t necessary to read to read this one! You can find them if you search evil!Marvin on my blog, I think!)

Jack backed away from the magician, terror shining in his eyes and sending shivers throughout his body. “W-what did you do to them?”

Marvin grinned, and it was so big that coupled with his mask he almost looked like the Cheshire Cat as he stared at Jack from the shadows. “What’s the matter, Jack? You don’t like their new looks?”

Jack shook his head. The “new looks” put a chill in his bones, and tears in his eyes.

They were faded. Almost completely see-through, save the faint blue and green outlines. The red of Jackie’s suit was gone, replaced with a dark green. His cape was in tatters, and it hung off of one shoulder by literally a thread. His mask hung around his neck, the blue so dark it could have been black.

Chase’s hat was pulled far down over his eyes, but Jack could still see as bright blue tears steamed down his face. His gun was held in his hand, though his grip was so loose it could have fallen at any second. The skull on his hat had been replaced, and a playing card took up it’s place.

Jameson’s hat was gone entirely, his usually neat hair wild and unkempt. His pocket watch had fallen through a hole in his pocket. It slowly turned as it hung, the light not even flirting off the also ghost-like watch. His vest was unbuttoned and wrinkled. It was the same color as Chase’s tears.

Schneep was the only one looking directly at Jack. His coat was covered in shimmering blue stains, stains that Jack was sure were meant to represent blood. His mask and cap were gone, his glasses cracked and broken. His blue scrubs were now a pale green. In his hand he held an empty syringe. He locked eyes with Jack. Jack searched for any traces of his friend, but the doctor’s eyes were empty.

Perhaps the most chilling of all…was Anti. He stood next to Marvin, a similar grin to the magician’s on his face, but he too was transparent. The cut on his neck dripped with pale blue static instead of blood. His hair was falling in his face, almost coveeing his eyes. His eyes didn’t ever change or flicker. They stayed a sickening shade of green.

The same shade of green that surrounded Marvin as he raised his hand. The ego all lurched forward. “Let’s hear it! For America’s sweethearts!” he shouted. “Or, they used to be!” He walked up to Jack, his face bright with glee. “Isn’t it wonderful? My spell worked! Not a single fan remembers any of them! I even erased the great Antisepticeye! And he helped me get strong enough to do it! He never thought I’d go against him!” Marvin cackled, and Jack flinched.

“What did they ever do to you?” Jack said. He backed away, trying to make it to the kitchen. If he could just get a weapon… “You didn’t have to do this, Marvin! I could have helped you! I never meant to-”

“To abandon me?” Marvin interrupted. The venom in his voice didn’t match the grin the remained spread across his face. “To leave me to suffer? To force me to live off of scraps of attention from the fans? TO NOT EVEN GIVE ME A NAME?! I WAS LEFT WEAK, PATHETIC! YOU COULD HAVE KNOCKED ME OUT WITH A FEATHER! YOU NEVER WANTED TO HELP ME, JACK!” He kept grinning, even as he screamed. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t have to do this. You’re right! But I must confess-” he paused, and looked at the other egos as though admiring a work of art, “- I’m in love with my own sins.”

Jack was so close. He could duck into the kitchen, grab a knife, at least he’d be able to defend himself. But when he went to run, he found a warm feeling surround him. He couldn’t move. He cast his eyes down. Green and blue surrounded him, not unlike how it surrounded the egos. Marvin had his hand held out, and it glowed with the same colors.

“Tsk, tsk. I don’t think so, Jack.” He curled his fingers, and Jack was yanked towards him harshly. He put an arm around Jack’s shoulder in an almost friendly manner. “See, I got to thinking. The spell worked so well with the egos, who’s to say it won’t work as well with you?”

“Don’t you dare,” Jack managed to growl.

Marvin ignored him. “Why can’t the world revolve around me? Oh, you’ll say that you aren’t that important, the world doesn’t revolve around you, but for you fans…well, for a lot of them, their world does. You can bow, and pretend you don’t know you’re a legend, but you are. You are to millions! And I want that. I crave it! Why can’t I replace you with me? I can remove memories, why wouldn’t I be able to change them?”

“Marvin…please…I never meant to abandon you…” Jack said, every word a struggle to get out past the magic. “Just…let me go…it doesn’t have to be like this!”

Marvin made a face like he was in deep thought. “No, no it doesn’t.” His grinned returned, and he stared Jack in the eyes. “But I want it to be.”

how about the host/jj?? i used to like that rarepair a lot haha

Seagull added in another ask: I FORGOT TO ADD A WORD ok how about "hold" or "see"

The voice is an underappreciated asset, Jameson believes. He can practically see the sounds dancing on the air on good days, watching the mouths of his loved ones make music. He knows them. Marvin’s voice is grating and jumpy, with a soft musical tone beneath. Jackie’s is loud and brilliant, full of pride and mirth even in defeat or sadness. Henrik’s is just as loud, but with a lilt of hymns, beauty untapped and a voice marred by a long life. 

He knows all of their voices like the back of his hands. And he speaks in BSL, so that is quite a recollection! Jameson has always been a bit of an agoraphobe since recuse from the Anti. Hardly leaving the safety of his cosy bedroom, hesitant to leave the comfort of blankets to hide under and a TV and books to entertain his mind. 

Henrik knocks on his door. Jameson knows it is his knock, even without looking. Pitter-patter and melodic rather than his other friend’s banging or sharp taps. Jameson whistles twice to let Henrik know he is decent. Henrik comes in with a hesitant smile, sitting on the bed and JJ sets aside his book to free his hands for conversation. 

“How are you?” Henrik signs softly. Jameson taps his chest. “Fine.” Casual and quite Pidgin for Henrik’s sake. 

“Jameson,” he speaks with an air of caution, his usual lilt gone, replaced with shaky confidence. “Marvin and me were talking. We think you need to leave this room more-” Jameson is already raising his hands to protest, but Henrik waggles his finger scoldingly. “Do not give that sass to me! Look, just... There is a party happening tonight, some friends of Jack’s are visiting from America. You should go.” 

Jameson stares pointedly at his hands, unsure of how to respond. Henrik’s words dance around in his head. A party... A party with friends. JJ has never even been to a proper social gathering, let alone a party. He makes a movement with his hands, not a sign, more like a dismissal. Henrik huffs and crosses his arms. 

“It is my doctorly prescription that you go.” 

You haven’t been a doctor in three years, Jameson thinks, but does not sign, bitterly. “Okay, fine,” he does signs, nodding sharply. “I will go to a party, just tonight. If I can come home whenever I want?” 

Henrik nods in agreement, and after a few short words about how pale and sickly Jamie looks, some fussing and tussling, Jameson gets ready. A party. A house party, like real people. Like normal people. Jameson’s chest puffs proudly as he slips on a velvet green vest over his white dress shirt. He is a normal person now. Take that Antisepticeye. 

~~

It was a mistake. It was a mistake to come here. People crowd the living room of Jack’s apartment, and they are loud. Loud beyond even Jackie or Henrik’s voice. They yell and run around and he’s pretty sure one of them had a gun two seconds ago. Mark dumped his creations off like a flustered parent leaving their kid at daycare, then he and Jack retreated to a quieter room to catch up and chat business. Jameson is holding a styrofoam cup, swishing around the cream soda nervously. 

Brash, harsh notes of sound wave around his eyes, and he can barely flick them around enough to keep up. Someone in a blue shirt is chasing around the one with a mustache, someone who glows with darkness is chatting with Marvin, someone in a doctor’s coat is arguing with Henrik so loudly Jameson feels his eardrums will burst. 

In a moment of overstimulation, he drops his cup on the floor, reaching up to cover his ears, shaking his head back and forth. This was a mistake. It was all a mistake. It is too much, it’s all too much! He will never be a normal person, he- 

“-will always be the lonely puppet kid in a box, thinks the man.” Someone finishes his thought. Jameson starts so hard that he jumps off the ground and backs up a few steps, slamming against the corner of the wall. 

There is a stranger beside him now, standing casually and making no motion despite Jameson’s violent reaction. His eyes are covered with a bandage, clean and obscuring. He wears a thick coat despite the warm autumn night outside. He is smiling with unreadable intent.

“Hello, Jameson Jackson,” the man proposes, holding out his hand. There is dried blood on his coat. Jameson does not shake his hand. The Host puts his hand back down. He tilts his head at Jameson softly, humming. 

“When I first saw you across the room, I thought you were that puppet kid. Just a trapped little soul so regressed you barely function.” Jameson goes to protest, but is cut off. “You’re not though. That is not your real story, is it.” 

Jameson signs a simple, “What?” hoping the gesture will be understood. It is. The Host smiles and sips cider from his cup. 

“You are not Dapper Jack, but you are, if you understand me. You are that same character, but from another story. You write it as you walk, as you talk, as you breathe. The words control you and pull you further from Dapper Jack the longer you remain away from that hell hole.” Jameson shuffles his feet, feeling exposed suddenly despite being against a corner. This man can see... everything. He feels stripped down to his bones, chewed up and spit back out. Yet something about it is... comforting. The Host finishes his drink, crumpling the cup. 

“After all, what fun would a character be if he never changes?” Before Jameson can respond, Host turns to him with a wide, wide grin. “You are bones and skin, words and blood.” The Host flicks caked blood off of his coat, then takes Jameson’s hand softly, tracing the lines with almost loving movement. “These are the only words you were gifted with. But in retaliation your mind makes such beautiful music.” The Host brushes Jameson’s curls out of his face, causing the smaller man to blush brilliant pink all the way to his ears and jerk backward in surprise.

“Jameson Jackson is someone very, very interesting, however not too cooperative with your author,” Host chuckles. His voice is warm, musical, like he could never dream of hurting any soul. But Jameson hears behind it, the subtle corruption of cruelty. Yet he doesn’t mind it. There’s such an allure to this stranger, he can’t explain it. His blinfolded eyes peer straight to JJ’s soul and rip him out of himself like pages of a book.

He pulls his hands from Host’s and curls them at his chest for a moment, glad that Host appears to be blind to his blushing. 

“Jameson is blushing.” 

Dammit.

The Host laughs. Melodical insanity. “You’re rather cute, Dapper Jack. What do you say, am I a sufficient distraction from the party, friend?” Host stresses ‘friend’, seeming to know, to see, more in the words than JJ could ever hope to. Host’s voice floats around him like lazy otters despite his breaking JJ down to his bare character traits and feelings. 

“Why do I feel like you are looking through me...” Jameson signs to himself, not expecting an answer from the seemingly blind man. 

“Because you all are open books to me, a series of stories and words correlating to action for the sake of a creator’s entertainment.” Jameson blanches softly, looking at Host with wide eyes. “Yes, I know you are signing.” 

“Are you... a god? Magician? See all?” Jameson asks bluntly. Melodic insanity rings through the air once again.  

“No, no. I simply see the moment, the story as it is being told. I have no control over your life, if that is what you mean.” Jameson blinks, his eyes fluttering. He has no fucking clue what that means, if he’s honest with himself. He lets it go, standing awkwardly in the corner with Host, who is not looking at him, seeming to stare off into the room full of noise and chaos. They sit in their little corner together, silent, listening to the house music, to the arguments and friendly quarrels, to the shadowy being scolding his companions, to Henrik and the other doctor screaming songs drunkenly. 

Host sighs suddenly, breaking the silence. “You are so interesting.” He suddenly turns and puts his hand on JJ’s cheek, grinning at him. He runs a hand down his jaw, humming, causing Jameson to go wide-eyed and blush once again, but he doesn’t pull away from him. Blindfolded, bandages eyes bore holes into him, and Jameson trembles, feeling seen, truly seen, for the first time in his life. Just as it is starting to overwhelm him, Host laughs softly, and lets go of him. “Until next time.” Jameson falls back against the wall corner, his eyes fluttering rapidly, his breathing uneven. 

He looks with majesty upon The Host, and for a moment can swear that he is blushing as well. But then he is gone into the chaos of the room, as though Jameson blinked him out of existence. Jameson places a hand on his chest, a bit shocked. Melodic insanity floats around him one more time, and in a daze Jameson finds Marvin, tugging their sleeve and asking with shaking hands to go home. 

“Ghost,” his hands whisper, pink fading from his cheeks. Marvin fusses, checking him for a fever delirium or overexcitement. 

They do go home, slowly and softly walking through Brighton’s streets back to their flat. Jameson’s hands whisper of ghosts and blind eyes peering through him all the walk home, all the night to follow, and all the next morning. The man in the trenchcoat’s laugh seems to sound around him, a hymnal of ghostly words sliding around in his head. 

Henrik tells him to forget it. How can he, though? How can you forget what it means to be seen, down to your very soul? 

No, Jameson will not forget. His ears and eyes will search forevermore for the soft melody of an all-knowing magician who saw him. Until next time, they whisper, promising and gentle. 

Until next time. 

I absolutely adore Jameson Jackson 🥰.

"Youve been trying to deal with this yourself?" Marvin to JJ?

I am so sorry for how long this took! D: I hope you enjoy anyway!

Jameson squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. He pulled his shirt over his arm, his breath shaking as the fabric slid over the wound. Even through the bandages, he could feel it. It was so sensitive, and getting worse by the day! But he couldn’t complain. It was nothing compared to what his brothers endured on the regular.

He took a deep breath. He could suck it up. What was one scratch compared to the countless injuries Jackie was constantly nursing? The cuts and bruises Marvin always had? The constant struggle Chase was always going through? The stress that always wore Schneep down to a point beyond exhaustion? How could Jameson complain about something as small as a scratch on his arm?

He’d learned enough from the doctor to know how to bandage it properly. So he’d taken care of it on his own. He set a smile on his face and went downstairs. Marvin was the only other one awake yet. He looked up and grinned. “Hey! Finally, someone else is awake!”

“How long have you been up?”

“…I’m not sure. Since before sunrise, I know that.”

Jameson laughed and sat down next to Marvin. Snappers emerged from Marvin’s cape, looking at Jameson from Marvin’s shoulder. “Good morning, Snappers! he said as cheerfully as he could. The little dragon hopped down from Marvin’s shoulder and started sniffing at Jameson’s arm. She made a noise of concern.

Marvin furrowed his brows. "Hey, what’s wrong?” Snappers sniffed and made the noise again. She clawed at Jameson’s sleeve. “Snappers, stop that!” Marvin scolded. The dragon climbed up the couch cusiononto the back of the couch. She sniffed at Jameson’s upper arm.

Jameson suppressed his panic. “What on earth are you doing, you funny little-AHG, OW!” Snappers had brushed her nose against the scratch. Jameson clutched his arm, squeezing it so right that it went from agonizing to numb. He whimpered.

Marvin grabbed Snapperws and moved her to his lap. “JJ, what’s wrong with your arm?”

Jameson knew he couldn’t deny anything at this point. “It-it’s really nothing. Just a scrape.”

“No way you had that reaction with just a scrape. Show me your arm.”

“It’s truly nothing! No need to concern yourself with it, I’m perfectly-”

“We both know I don’t believe this. Just show me, please.”

Jameson sighed. He pulled his sleeve up to his shoulder. The bandages were hardly pristine anymore, blood having soaked through completely. Marvin carefully unwrapped the bandages. Jameson hissed as the air stung the wound when it was uncovered.

Marvin gaped at it. “You’ve been trying to deal with this yourself? It’s huge! And it looks like it’s getting infected!”

“I thought, well I thought it was miniscule compared to what everyone else always has to handle! I didn’t want to be a bother!”

“Miniscule?! It’s almost shoulder to elbow length!” Marvin shouted incredulously. He stood up. “We’re getting Schneep. Right now.”

“But he has so much to worry over already! It wouldn’t be right, throwing my own problems at him!”

“He’ll have lot more to worry about if it gets worse!” Marvin took a deep breath. “You’re not being a bother, okay? People get hurt. It happens.” His expression softened. “You know you aren’t a bother, right?”

“I…I suppose.”

“Come on. Let’s get you fixed up.”

(I’m very tired, I hope this is decent!)

I feel save with it so I still sleep with them

If you're fifteen or older an still sleep with a stuffed animal please reblog this.

My friend is embarrassed and thinks she’s the only one and I said id prove her wrong.

Jameson Jackson’s Mustache Wiggles™

Reblog if you agree

Puppet loosely strung

"Panting, Anti looked at his puppet with blood on his eyes. Jameson stared at him with a blank expression, which made the glitch swallow hard [...]"

Word counting: 530

A/N: happy halloween!!! have some dapperanti 💀

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— JAMESON, WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS HAPPENING?

Panting, Anti looked at his puppet with blood on his eyes. Jameson stared at him with a blank expression, which made the glitch swallow hard; he hated to admit, but that was more terrifying than any face he could make.

[Let me put myself in your shoes,] he showed his arm, the strings barely holding it, [as a puppet loosely strung. Around you they were so confused, that a faulty man could have so much fun.]

He walked behind Anti, his hand following the wooden chair print. He stopped in front of him again.

[They read your smiles,] he lifted his chin, [nothing but teeth], he dropped him, raising an eyebrow, [they looked at you with pity first, and then disbelief.]

— What the fuck are you talking about?...

[Let me put myself in your shoes, as a puppet loosely strung. They may think they'd never choose to be the man that you've become.]

He turned one of the lights with a controller, showing Jackie held by a collar and giant handcuffs on his wrists. Anti gasped.

[Did you feel the weight of other's views, or was their ignorance a source of fun?] He looked down, widening his eyes; a single sweat ran down the side of his face, [I hated the whispers on the street…]

— Whispers?

[Why, yes! Do you think it's easy to live with hallucinations?] Jameson answered so innocently, like if he wasn't talking about something serious.

Or kidnapping his own puppeteer.

[In the past, you would have been seen as a family's disgrace, now they think you're putting on a brave face,] he smiled softly, ruffling Anti's hair, [They might fear that one day they'll wear your shoes… but you're the one who's laughing, you had nothing to lose.]

He grinned, turning all the lights. All of the septics were in cages, looking like wild animals that had just been captured. Anti tried to scream, but his voice didn't come.

[They were trying to separate us, my darling,] he crouched in front of the glitch with a disturbing wide smile, placing both hands on his face, [they just couldn't see… That it was me needing you, not you needing me], he got up again, his obsessive expression turning into a cynical one, [they just couldn't see… That a puppet loosely strung is not what I wanna be].

He pressed the controller again, turning off all the lights and only keeping the one illuminating them. His red glowing strings appeared again.

[I'm tied to so many things I don't need to do,] scissors appeared on his hand, and he cut the one on his right arm, [I'll loosen myself to feel more like you.]

That being said, the scissors gave space to a needle, and he crouched on Anti's side, grinning at him. The glitch lost all the blood on his face.

— Ja-Jamie… what are you doing?...

[They just couldn't see, that it was me needing you, not you needing me,] he chuckled, licking the string to put on the needle, [they just couldn't see, that a puppet loosely strung is not what I wanna be.]

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tfw you created the perfect puppet but turns out he's crazier than you and is now obsessed with you

hope this makes sense <3 and yes jj will sew his strings onto anti one by one if he needs it

tagging @glass-trash-bab @theprinceofflies @intothebutterflyburrow (uh grey feel free to rb in any blog you want actually lfjsjdj) and last @florenceisfalling because they were the one who showed me this music 😭

Been havin artblock lately so did a messy doodle of a happy boi

Jairsolas

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Six

A JSE Fanfic

*gasp* A POV change?! For the first time in this story?! How exciting! Yeah short description because I’ve had a long day as of queueing this, but basically we follow Marvin as he tries to track down the King. But instead, along the way, he meets someone new. And that’s all I have to say. Hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

The noble family Portmota lived on the edge of the Southern Moors, their castle built on the last bit of solid land before the rivers came in and flooded the south of the kingdom. Officially, their claim covered all of the Moors, but everybody knew that the Moors ran on their own, much like the mountain villages to the west and north. But the meagerness of their claim didn’t stop the family from building themselves a solid, grand castle. It sat on top of a small hill, surrounded by a thick stone wall. The castle’s multiple towers reached the sky, and were numerous to require a large staff to keep the place running for the noble family and any visitors they might have.

With such a large body of servants, it was easy to slip in unnoticed. They always accepted help, and as long as you didn’t appear troublesome, they’d immediately snatch you up and put you to work the moment you asked for a position, no interview needed. 

This was something Marvin found out first hand when he decided to infiltrate the castle in preparation for the King’s visit.

Weiterlesen

Egotober Day 20: Weapon

—please don’t edit or steal, like/reblog instead—