A Disney AU

Are you up for writing rn? Could I see Chase comfort JJ after a nightmare? I'm having a rough night, I could use some boys 💔

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chase ventured as Jameson clutched the fabric of his nightshirt and blinked away the last vestiges of sleep.

“It...” He floundered, helplessly throwing his free hand. “Antisepticeye. What more can I possibly say? How long is he going to hold this power over me? How long am I going to be...plagued with his presence?”

“I -- I don’t know, Jem, but it’s us against him. We’re right here with you, we’re stronger together. And...you have your God with you too, don’t you? Every minute of every day? Isn’t that what you believe?”

“...Yes. Always.” With a slow exhale, the shudder in his shoulders eased. “That madcap holds no power to ever change that.”

How about a little Jameson Jackson Closet Cosplay…?

These were a hell of a lot of fun to make! I admit I don’t own a bowler hat, but I wore the one I had backwards and it was totally fine. xD Anyway! Enjoy!

JJ belongs to: @therealjacksepticeye

Happy Birthday Jameson Jackson

©Jacksepticeye

Maybe puppet!Marvin putting someone in and out of trance over and over until he can’t even come out of it properly anymore?

Everything he did was to serve his master well. 

For Master he watched impassively as Jameson’s fearful gaze melted into the colors and shapes, losing all spark but that which the spirals reflected in him. For Master he spoke empty words about calm, peace, gentle relaxation. For Master he whispered lies in Jameson’s ears, lies that were truths only to puppets. He brought him up out of trance, hoping for an empty mind – and when Jameson cried and begged, he dragged him down again. Again. Again. Again. Jameson was an apple bobbing in water; every time he resurfaced, the rot softened and withered him a little more.

It was what Master had once done to Marvin. Now that he looked back on it, he saw it as a blessing. As Jameson slumped and swayed, his glassy, colorless eyes barely managed to latch onto Marvin’s movements anymore. Marvin couldn’t help but wonder if he would even have the awareness to remember this.

Perhaps it was better if he didn’t. Master wanted a dumb, mindless puppet, after all…and if Jameson ever remembered he had done this to him, something buried deep in Marvin’s subconscious would never let him forgive himself.

JSE Fanfiction - Intangible

Summary: More often than not, Jameson forgets his nightmares as soon as he wakes up, which allows him to easily fall asleep again. Then there are the other nights, the worse nights. Tonight is one of those.

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Origin Story

A JSE Fanfic

SepticHeroes AU: Part 1

The superhero AU is here! I know “SepticHeroes” probably isn’t the most creative name, but I don’t care, I’m just really excited for this ^w^  Jackie is a superhero known as Windstorm, living in and protecting the city of Daindover. His ultimate goal? To join the League of Heroes, the top organization for superheroes worldwide. Aaaand also to make a good impression on his roommate, Chase. I’ve been sitting on it for months, and I’m FINALLY writing something for it! Whoo! Join me on this super adventure! :D

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Jackie could never get tired of this view.

The cityscape did look better at night, when the lights of the windows and neon signs let off a stunning glow. But even now, in the daytime, there was just something magical about it. Who could have ever thought buildings could be this tall? Maybe he’ll get used to it, eventually. But that day seemed a long way away.

He was pretty sure he was the only one who could see this current view. After all, it wasn’t easy to get up here. Not to mention the obvious dangers of sitting on a tiny ledge by the needle at the top of a skyscraper. But Jackie had an advantage. He never had to worry about heights.

The same could not be said for his radio, though.

A voice came over the speaker: “—hase in progress. Repeat, car chase in progress. Suspects are in two unmarked gray vans, fleeing from an armed robbery at the First Bank of Daindover. Suspected super activity—”

“Oh shit!” Jackie quickly sat up straight, unfolding his legs. In the process, he accidentally kicked the radio, and it went flying into thin air. “No!”

Jackie lunged forward, shoving himself off the small ledge he was sitting on. He fell quickly, quicker than should have been normal, and grabbed the radio. That didn’t change the fact that he was hurtling to the ground, fifty stories below. Instinctively, Jackie flipped over, now falling feet-first. As he did so, the air pushed back at him, and his fall slowed…and stopped. Now he was hovering in midair. The sensation was somewhat similar to treading water, if the water wasn’t quite as heavy. Unusual. For anyone else. But Jackie was familiar with this. After all, he was a superhero.

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Egoshipmas day 18! Sometimes a family is two bad bitches, their theater kid best friend and his husband

 @egoship-stuff @geekyfox2 @cherry-angrynoodle

Ok this idea just came to me so bear with me here.

Wilford warfstach

Jameson Jackson

Remus sanders

What do they have in common their mustaches🥸 so if they were to meet they could be…….

✨The Stach Bros✨

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. 

18 JJ

Mind Control

“Jameson,” Chase implored,his voice strangled by pain, trembling as he backed farther into the corner andheld his hands up placatingly. “Please…Please, I know you don’t want to dothis! You’re not this, you’re not—You don’t belong to him!”

The other Ego’s mouthwas moving, but Jameson didn’t hear a word he said. Under any othercircumstances he would have easily read his lips, but his view distorted by therhythmic, pulsing light in his peripheral vision and his mind could barely processanything beyond his immediate thoughts. No, not his thoughts—they weren’t hisown. On a subconscious level he knew that, but they never stopped, raining downon top of him like a pile of falling leaves. The larger the pile grew, the morehe believed them.

“Th͘is̷ is ̵al̴l y͢ou̢ wa͝nt. You areno҉thin̶g̶ b͜ut ͢m͘y ͠p̴u͞p̶pe̡t; that’s al͢l you ȩve̶r ͜w̢ant̴ed͡ t̨o ̷b҉ȩ.”

He barely rememberedwhat had come before. There were stripes of bruising on his wrists and ankles,as if he had been restrained, but why would he ever need to be? His master sethim free.

“Yo͝ur ȩve͞r̷y ̶t̢hought ͜belongs ͢to m͡e̴. Everych̡oi̷çe͟ ͟you͜ ̡make b̷elong͜s to m͜e. E̢v̶e̵ŗy̡ ͢impu̕lse, e͜v̴ȩr̡y ͝e̢motion,is formed to ҉ple͝ase ͟me̡. Yoù ͝b̛òw ̨t͢o a̴l̴l͡ of my w͘h̢i̛ms.”

His master’s glory had beenblinding, so vivid and so beautiful that he couldn’t stand to look away. Thelonger he stared longingly after it, the closer it came. It felt like aneternity had passed, sapping his strength and will, but he had persisted. Hewas so tantalizingly close—

His kind master hadmercy on him. With one word, the Glitch had let it envelop him, drowning Jamesonin a hurricane of static. It was hot, almost painful—like scalding bathwaterpoured over him in one long rush, but it had left everything in him tinglingwith relaxed, steamy, stimulating bliss. He hadbowed to him, inclining his head, and the clawed hand that slid through hishair felt like it belonged there.

He could still feelthat hand there now, unseen, petting him approvingly as he adjusted his grip onthe gun in his hands.

“Véry, ver͢y̧ ̵goo͞d͠, little p͟u͜p̷pe̷t…This̨ ͜ise̕x͡a̡ct̕ly̢ ̢wha̷t ͝I al͝waỳs w̡an͡t͘ęd ͜fo̢r̢ y̡o͟u! E͞ve̢r̛yt̀hi͜n̵g̶ youdo f̀or̛ me̷ ̢mak̴e͞s̵ ͜you f͢eel ͢g̨o̡od, d̷oes͝n'̕t ̡it̡?”

“It does…yes…”he slurred in return, unable to suppress a contented smile as he tilted hishead back against his master’s fingers. “EverythingI do, I do for you…”

“What?” Chase whisperedhoarsely, surging forward half a step and then flinching back just as quicklyas the younger Ego centered the gun at his chest. “No—no, whatever he’s tellingyou, it’s not true! Jameson! Can’t you—Don’t you recognize me?!”

“W̢el͜l, ͡t҉hen! Al̷l you ne̕ed͞ t͝ǫ ̷do ͝fo͞r meno̴w̢ is p̛u͢l͞l͜ t̀ha͏t ̢tr̴i͢gger…Pu͡ll t̴hat ͜t̢r̵iggęr an͜d I’ll b́ev̷e͠ry ̛plea̛se̕d wi̷t̨h͝ ͜y̷ou. You̢'͝ll͞ b̴e a̸ll̢ m̧i͠ne…m͡y̵ J͠ęm̵.”