Okay, Imagine Anti Makes The Rest Of The Egos To Summon A Demon, But It Goes All Wrong. The Demon Possesses

Herding Sheep: Chapter Two

Anti works on breaking in his new “brother”, and Henrik feels himself slowly losing his will. 

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Thwap, thwap, thwap. 

Fleshy fists bang on the door to the room in the basement, echoing up through the floor. Jameson curls in on himself, pressing against Anti’s chest in their shared bed. Something is wrong, but it’s no matter, Anti will fix it. Anti always fixes it.  

Just as he is settling back in there is a loud scream. Anti grumbles and sits up, looking young and soft in a blue hoodie, with green swirling hair and soft eyes. Jameson melts in the early morning light at his appearance. My sweet brother, he thinks, reaching up and touching Anti’s face. Anti looks down at him, smiling. 

“Is that fucking doctor bothering you, sweet boy?” Anti purrs. Jameson pouts exageratedly, rubbing his eyes, trying to seem small and frightened. Meanwhile Henrik bangs and screams in the basement. Anti growls, standing up and grabbing a knife from under his pillow. “Well well then, let’s go shut his bold little lips before he bothers you anymore.” 

Anti leaves the room, whistling Daisy Do as he tromps down the hallway toward the basement. Jameson curls up in his blankets, smiling. Anti always fixes it. 

The door bangs open nearly in Henrik’s face, causing him to stumble backward and fall on his ass. Peeking around the door, Anti slides into the room, standing over Henrik. 

“Screaming all fucking night. Banging up the doors, waking up my pet, waking up my sweet baby boy.” Anti is growling, teeth growing larger in his mouth, dog-like and fanged. Henrik pants and scrambles backward away from the glint of a knife. But he isn’t fast enough. A knife comes down into his foot, severing tendons and sending blood squelching out. Henrik screams. He empties his lungs, eyes bulging at the sight of so much of his own blood. Anti is laughing, only for a moment, tugging the chain around Henrik’s leg. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” The echo and glitching is gone, replaced by a soft, boyish Irish accent. Anti squats on the floor beside Henrik, who is still groaning with the pain. “Look, sorry I stabbed you. I had to you know, you were being so loud, waking up my baby brother and all. Surely you understand, yeah?” 

Henrik squeezes his eyes shut, avoiding the glow of gold coming from his astral, beautiful eyes. Anti huffs out a breath through his nose, picking at Henrik’s eyelid. When it doesn’t open, he grips Henrik’s throat and squeezes. Hard. Henrik gags out a half-inhale, and his eyes shoot open and- Oh, oh the eyes. Henrik slumps, panting, hands limp by his side, bleeding foot creating a puddle on the floor. His chains rattle and he blinks slowly. Why was he screaming? He wanted to escape? But why, why would he ever run from this feeling. So warm, so soft, so gently he sinks into the light. Anti grins, teeth poking over his lips. 

“There’s a good puppet. You just need a little light, aren’t you so scared of the dark, love? Aren’t you scared of the darkness in you?” Henrik whimpers, hanging his head shamefully. “You want to hurt them. Those creations back at home. You want to hurt your family don’t you? Well I can help. I can bring light to you, Arzt, I c-”

Anti is cut off by a frantic fist slamming into his chest, choking the air out of him and knocking him on his ass. Henrik screams and grips his hair. “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Half a scream half a whine. Henrik’s breathing is unsteady and deep, trying to ground himself through the pain in his foot and the implanted warmth in his head. Anti laughs, standing up. 

“You’ll see soon. You’ll see, I can make you happy. We can have a nice life, you, me, and the pet.” Anti flips his knife in his hands. “The sooner you comply, the less pain. You don’t want pain, right? Had enough of that when I kidnapped you last time, huh?” Henrik slowly shakes his head, curling up on the floor. Anti nods his head, then turns to leave. 

“Wait- Wait! How… how long will you keep me here. Tell me that at least. How long before you kill me?”

“Kill you. Hahaha. Kill you, kill you.” Anti laughs as though it is the funniest joke he has ever heard. “Oh Henrik, confused little doctor. So lost and confused. I’m not going to kill you.” Anti turns around and grins at him, eyes dripping gold. “You belong to me, you see. And I hate to break my toys.”

Anti is gone before Henrik can even blink. His foot bleeds into the concrete. His head feels stuffed with cotton. He curls up on the floor and cries, and cries, and cries, for the home it is starting to feel he will never return to. Chase’s homecooked meals, Marvin’s glowing fire, Jackie’s protective arms. It feels already like a dream from another life. So far away from the light in the onster’s eyes. 

—

Jameson stirs mac-n-cheese in an old copper pot on the gas stove, trembling slightly. Anti isn’t happy, Anti isn’t happy and he has been a very bad pet. His nose drips blood onto his nice white shirt, staining the embroidered knife in cruel irony. 

The steady shlicking of a knife against wood threatens him from the living room as Anti carves. “Dapper, is the food almost done? Hurry the fuck uuuup.” Anti’s tone is playful and brotherly, as though he wasn’t punching Jameson in the face less than 30 minutes ago. Jameson whistles at him shakily from the kitchen, letting him know to be patient. Jameson dumps a very large helping of the noodles into Anti’s bowl, and schlops the rest into his own. He walks into the living room and sets the bowls on the coffee table. Anti does not look up from his carving. Jameson does not meet his eyes, sitting in the big armchair and stirring his mac-n-cheese around, and around, and around. 

“You looked at him without my permission. You don’t have the right to be mad at me, you should know not to look at prisoners unless I’m wearing you.”

“Yes Anti.”

“You stay away from him until he’s broken in. He’s a dark, dark man, a killer. He killed his fucking accountant, and many, many more.”

“Yes Anti.”

“He’s a lunatic.”

“Yes Anti.”

Not broken in yet. That is his excuse this time, hm? Jameson stirs his food more focusedly, avoiding his brother’s piercing gaze. He nibbles a bite of cheesy noodles. Anti carves, carves, carves, obsessive and repetitive, his gaze turned away from Jameson at last. 

“Anti?”

“What.”

“Does the prisoner get to eat?”

Anti laughs. “Not yet, but he has a pipe to drink from.”

Jameson fiddles with his fork. He peeks at the basement door. There hasn’t been any banging since this morning. He hopes big brother didn’t hurt the prisoner too badly, because he can only imagine Anti’s rage if his new toy dies. He sets his bowl down. Not hungry anymore.

Henrik lays on his cot, foot having clotted, but still aching and unusable. He sniffles into his pillows, far past the shame and pride that usually stops him from crying. He wipes away snot and squeezes his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as he thinks of home. Home, home, home. God why can he barely remember? Chase’s cooking, Marvin’s fire, Jackie’s arms around him. It is staring to feel so far away. 

Anti trudges his boots down the stairs, listening with glee to the fearful scrabbling coming from Henrik’s little room. 

“Hiya puppet,” he says as he unlocks and pushes open the door. 

“I do not belong to you, zum donnerwetter Depp!” He spits curses, trying to seem strong and unbroken. Anti smiles. A knife flips in his hand. Henrik flinches at the glint of the blade. 

“You are just begging to be all cut up again, just like last time. Just like in that basement in Germany. Ah, good times we had, hm? My blade in your skin, my hands alll over you.” His voice echoes in the room, reverberating as Henrik feels the ghosts of nails scraping and blades cutting, instinctively shifting his right arm behind his back to hide scars. 

“Asshole,” he hisses. 

“Oh come on, be friendly! No biting Arzt, bad dog.” Anti is suddenly sitting at the foot of his bed, flip, flip, flipping his blade. “You could be happy here, I think. You and me, we’re family. We shouldn’t be fighting, you’re my big brother.” Childlike, wide blue eyes look up at Henrik. Henrik’s heart skips, something untangling in his mind. His eyes fog over and he feels that same warmth and softness, the light seeping in the wrinkles of his brain. 

“My… my brother? No… No, you are a monster. You are not my-”

“Brother, big brother, come home to me.” Anti’s eyes glow golden and slip into Henrik’s weak will, and Henrik he slips into the light. Yes, yes, my family. This is my brother, why have I been running, why did I not trust him before, yes my brother. Henrik pants and falls back on the pillows, so overwhelmed with love he can hardly move. 

“Come home to me Arzt. I’ll leave you time to make up your mind. Next time I come down here you will make a choice. Right baby? You sweet little doll, you’ll come home and take care of master’s chores.” Anti seems almost daydreaming as he slips out of the door. Henrik curls up on the pillow, eyes rattling, teeth gritted. There is a great, sucking wound in his skull. Why can’t he remember? There was something to remember right? Something he was clinging to, something other than this cot and the monster’s eyes. But it doesn’t matter. Anti will fix it. Anti will come back down the stairs and fix it. Come home, come home, it echoes in the gaping hole in his skull. 

Henrik slips into a deep sleep, dreaming of fresh cooked meals, of fire and laughter, of warm protective arms around him, but none of them have faces. 

Chapter Four Masterlist

Book Four ran from August 15, 2020 to January 16, 2021.

The number of posts included was 1,034. Including asks, this equaled a total word count of 206,420. Combining the other chapters gives MBC a total word count of 615,727 words at the time of finishing Chapter Four.

Chapter Four title was: the Witch’s Promise

This chapter has been broken into multiple sections and consolidated into fic format. To read, see the section links below. Or, find the Chapter One masterlist here, the Chapter Two masterlist here, and the Chapter Three masterlist here.

Intro

Part One: Reversal

Part Two: In the Silence Between

Part Three: the Shadow in the Forest

Part Four: Dark's Memory

Part Five: Haloperidol

Part Six: Grantaire

Part Seven: Aftermath

Part Eight: the Invasion

Part Nine: the Locked Room

Part Ten: the Houses in the Woods

Part Eleven: Soul-Shifter

Part Twelve: Jack's Protagonist

Part Thirteen: Chase

Part Fourteen: Gone

Thank you, as always, for writing this story with me.

These guys crack me up!

Herding Sheep: Chapter One

This is the beginning of our tale. Anti has brought home a new pet, who gets a gory introduction to Anti’s love for violence. However Jameson, the other puppet, expresses curiosity and wonder, this being the first time Anti has ever let anything or anyone near the house. Time for the doctor to be broken in, or die before he gets there. 

cw// hypnotism, abuse, animal death, kidnapping, panic attack, manipulation, Anti being creepy as ever. 

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Today is a good day.

Anti said so as he slipped into JJ’s body, dematerializing himself and replacing the puppet’s consciousness. 

Today is a good day. 

Anti said so as Jameson’s hands ripped the stranger out of his bed, knocked him out and threw him in a sack. Yes, today is a good day. 

So why is he shaking? Why is Jameson trembling as he stares at the limp body placed delicately onto a dirty cot. His face seems familiar, but with slight differences. Jameson touches his own plump lips, and his own scarred brow. The stranger shares the same features. 

It doesn’t matter. No one matters but Anti.

Weiterlesen

Halloween is JJ’s Time

So in Discord we were talking and then:

@huffle-dork : I kinda love the headcannon I read the other day that all the other egos are wary of Halloween like not scared but like cautious cuz- that’s antis time but jj that’s his birthday so he’s just like BAM pumpkins everywhere- obnoxious costumes, decorations everywhere!! We’re gonna breathe hallow’s eve gentlemen!!! Anti can pry Halloween from my cold dead hands I was born before him goddamn it!!!

@iv0ry-keys  HE WANTs TO MAKE THE HOUSE INTO ONE OF THOSE COOL ONES WHERE YOU WALK THROUGH ANd ITS ALL DECKED OUT 

And then me:

Chase: JJ you know we cant decorate the whole house. What if Anti- JJ: *loud signing* NOPE Chase: Wha-? JJ: NOPE. *stringing fake cobwebs on the wall and setting up plastic skeletons in the corners* THAT TURTLE GLITCH ASS BITCH WILL NOT TAKE MY DAY *carving 5 pumpkins at once* I WAS NOT RAISED IN A HOUSE OF HALF-ASSERY TO BE FRIGHTENED BY A MAN BABY WITH A KNIFE FETISH *drags out 3 boxes of costumes and yeets them at everyone* NOW BUCK UP, BASTARD BOYS WE GOT CANDY TO COLLECT AND CHILDREN TO FRIGHTEN WITH OUR SUPERIOR SPOOKS Chase, and everyone who gathered to watch: *whispers* Holy shit JJ: ITS MY BIRTHDAY I DESERVE THE RIGHT!! TO HAVE!!! FUN!!!!

Hehe 》:D this here- Can you count it as Fan art? I uhhh I guess you can idk Anyway

Some days ago I did read the First Chapter of @crystalninjaphoenix Switch AU and it's awsome!! (Ps go Check it out :3) I was scrolling through the # and Found The designs of them the egos They are so adorable ^w^

Soo I am a Gacha Content creator and thought why not Create JJ from the switch AU in gacha and so I did it

I tried Doing To make everything look the same The hardest thing to do was actually the hair 😅but it's done and I am proud of it

I couldn't add all things because either gacha didn't had them or They were to hard to make but Yeah

Click on the pictures for better quality

I hope you like it :D

Here is the full thing.

Hehe >:3 it is I

To whomever is going through and reblogging all my old JSE egos fanfic: I'm very glad you enjoy them and thank you for sharing them with others but also how the FUCK did you even find them I haven't written any JSE stuff in ages

So cute ^^

“Movie” dark x jj

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

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

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

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

“Alone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Psst.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want,” he signs. 

“I don’t speak BSL-”

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

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

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

What makes me fascinating?

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

Jameson stifles a cheeky grin. 

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

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

I could just time travel away.

“Then why haven’t you?”

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

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

He picks up the notepad. 

Sets it down.

Picks it up. 

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

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

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

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

CAN WE HIT ONE BILLLIIIOON LIKES!

this part killed me