It's Him, The Dapper Man~

Jameson sat up, feeling more than just exhausted. Soreness had spread everywhere, and he could no longer stand. The cold metal chains were latched onto his wrists, and he cried out in pain before falling face first into a bucket of water. Struggling to breathe, the way he was bent made it impossible for him to pull his head out of the bucket. The chains held him back, and he was stuck to the floor.

The echo of footsteps slowly approached him. Anti yanked Jameson's head out of the water pulling him by his hair. When he let go, and Jameson could stand he stood closer to Jameson. "Here. Drink this." Anti pressed a mug of coffee close to Jameson's face. "please, no more." Jameson begged, shaking. "But you love coffee. It doesn't matter if you haven't slept in 2 days, this is your last cup. I'm not going to give you anymore after this, puppet." he answered calmly.

"Shhh..." Anti shushed him before opening up Jameson's Jaw with his hands. He held it open and poured the rest of the steaming coffee into his throat. Jameson coughed hoarsely, his voice damaged from dehydration and heat.

"Now that's better, isnt it?" Anti asked softly. Jameson shook his head. Anti pulled his knife from his pocket and held it close to Jameson's eyes. "Say "Yes." "Agree with me, puppet." he growled. "yes master." Jameson stuttered. Anti moved away. "Just a few more hours, and I'll let you go." Anti promised. "really?" Jameson whimpered. Anti raked his claws across Jameson's back. "Did you really believe that I would set you free so easily?" he taunted. "No..." Jameson squeaked. Anti's knife swung into Jameson's right leg. Anti pulled it out slowly before cleaning off the blade.

"Good, because I'm not done with you yet, puppet." he hissed. Jameson twitched nervously. He said nothing.

Anti smiled, his eyes blacking out. "Have you ever stared into space? Doesn't it just pull you in until you no longer feel like you're real?" He leaned in closer. "Doesn't it hurt to not feel real, to be alone?" his claws reached to touch Jameson's face, and he tapped them lightly. Jameson stared into his coal black eyes and started to shake, sobbing into Anti's shoulder. "I always knew I wasn't real, that none of this was real, there was no possible way this could be happening. Everything is so foggy, it's just shapes. And your eyes...It just says it all. That I'm nothing. I don't exist do I?" Jameson moved away, tears soaking his clothes.

Anti's eyes began to swirl with bits of green contrasting against the emptiness. "There is a hole in my heart that cannot be filled. There is a rage inside I can't quite contain. But then there's you, your suffering fills my needs..." Anti picks up his knife again and slashes it across's Jameson's stomach. "I don't care who you are, I feel nothing towards you." He yelled, repeatedly slicing over the wound. Blood splashed into the air, and dripped down Jameson's leg forming large puddles. "You figure out for yourself who you are, where you think you are. You're in my hell now, and I make all the rules." he scoffed, before moving away. He paced the room, continuing his speech. "I often wonder how you're still alive, but then I remember I'm keeping you alive. Marvin can't find you, Jackie can't save you, chase isn't here, schneep is working, robbie is sleeping. I rule over all, I can travel wherever I please. I have everything I want, but I still need more. What better way, then to keep someone here, locked away forever? Someone I can talk to, who listens without a choice. Someone, that squeaks and whimpers but follows orders." 

"It's so obvious now..." Anti cackled. "I don't need anyone. Not even you." he pointed his knife at Jameson's throat. "I should've done this a long time ago." he pressed the blade closer into Jameson's skin. Anti glitched, growing taller than before. His whole body flickered, as he faded turning into a giant inky shadow. His bright eyes blinked back. Large tendrils of shadow crept along the walls, filling the room. Jameson struggled against the chains pleading. "It doesn't have to be this way! Please, stop! I'll give you whatever you want, just don't hurt them!"

"How disappointing...I always liked a begger...But now, I am my own king. This is my world." his laughter roared, rocking the entire room. Bits of ceiling crumpled. Tile cracked open. Even the blood on the ground started to move like jelly. The tendrils reached Jameson, holding him in place as Anti flew closer. "Say goodbye." he hissed. Jameson's unconscious body fell to the floor and his limbs convulsed wildly before becoming still. A few minutes later something strange happened. Jameson stood up, his eyes glowing green. He smiled an unusual grin. He walked over to a table with Schneep's stolen medical gun and injected it into his arm. He held a knife by his side before leaving the room. The bleeding stopped, and the wounds began to heal.

I was bored so I started playing around with Mark and Jack’s eye colors. I think these turned out okay for a first try! ^^”

Quiet

Slow breaths.

He kept his eyes shut tight. His chest rose and fell slowly. His breathing sounded too loud, no matter how much he tried to quiet it.

Stay quiet.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears. 

Bum bum, bum bum, bum bum. 

Too loud. Too loud!

“Wh̶e͝r̛e͘ ar͜e y͟o͠u̶…͟”

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to keep his breathing steady. His heartbeat sped up, making his task near impossible.

Bum bum bumbum bumbumbumbumbumbum

 Do ̷y̷o͢u̴ t͡hi̴nk t͝ḩere'͞s̢ an̨y̶ poi͝nt҉ ̸i͞n hįding͏?̕”

Slow breaths. Stay quiet. Slow breaths, stay quiet.

“I̡'̕m g͢oi͘n҉g̡ t̡ǫ ͜f̶i͠nd you͠.” 

Playful. That’s what that tone was. This was a game.

Slow breaths, stay quiet. 

“I ̀c͏a̴n̡ s̛eńse҉ y͏o͠ur͠ f̶eaŗ.”

Slow breaths stay quiet.

“I ̷c̀an̡ ̢ḩea͡r y̨o̸ur ra͠cin̡g he̷a̢r̴tb͘ęa͡t͘.̷”

Slowbreaths stayquiet.

“P͟o̵or̡ ͡l͜it͞t́lę p͡u͡p̢pet̕.̵..͟”

Slowbreathsstayquiet.

“Y͡o̕ư'̧r̶e ͏sơ ba͢d͝ at t҉h̡i͘s ̸ga̡m҉e̷.”

The door burst open. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. No sound ever came out.

Yet he still hadn’t been quiet enough.

(Well, I tried to write a fic. Easing back into it.) 

Taglist: @victory-cookies @sadcat5555 @beerecordings @septic-dr-schneep @starlightxnightmare @miishae

Misfit!Jameson, angst, hunger?

Though Jameson is typically very friendly, however, once a year on Halloween, he completely loses control and craves human meat. Since the Misfits were never human, Jameson has no interest in them and remains passive, but Chase wasn’t always a werecat, which puts him on the menu.

Jamie’s a scary boy! Thank you for your request, I hope I did it justice! 3/?

reblog if you are too

mutuals do this

“Step right up little boys and girls, become a member of Jameson Jackson’s live audience!”

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. 

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

These guys crack me up!