Herding Sheep: Chapter One

Egotober Day 1: Hat

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

rb to have a cute jj on your blog

I’ve been working on storyboards non stop, finally took a break to doodle something that wasn’t the storyboard, haha. Thought this would be cute :3

Henrik design © @10ths-writing-corner // @10th-no-name-person

Jameson design © @honey–dream

Art © @dmnfox

I’m not super proud with how this turned out and I might have to redraw it, but at least I finally did it! I drew all the Demon Blood Bois :,,,,D

@lilyenderborn it has been done

Crawl To Salvation

Content Warning: Burns, Captivity, Fire, mentions of death, ableism Possession (feel free to request more) 

Jameson knew nothing else but to crawl. 

The woods floor was damp with condensation; the tiny droplets from the trees leaves cascaded over his charred body, steaming as they came down. The man’s body was broken; his legs were seared, leaving patches of pink flesh throbbing in the air. Yet, his mind has never felt so well, free to finally think for and as himself.

His only desire was to find someone, anyone, other than the beast he left in the flames a few feet behind him. He had no recollection of how long he’d actually been dragging his body along the wet floor, inching along as leaves stuck to him and twigs stabbed his belly. 

The woods around him began to meld into each other, until the trees resembled a large, obsidian monster whose branches looked like spider legs, as his vision dipped in and out of unconsciousness. Jameson’s mind was no longer focused on surviving; he felt his body caving in to the forgiving darkness. If he were to die, he’d die knowing that his mind was his for the first time, and that this was his action to take.  

Suddenly, Jameson heard footsteps approaching him from behind. He listened as they broke sticks under their feet and walked at an even pace, obviously taking their time. Jameson could feel the wickedness with every careless step, and it was closing in. The urge to crawl again beat his heart into doing the same and he continued his dissent with all the strength he could muster. 

The man behind inevitably caught up to him and watched the sight. He tilted his head to the side as he watched the burning man grasp at leaves and dirt to pull his body into the direction of freedom; like a snail trying to escape from under the sole of a boot. The man finally chuckled and bent down, grasping the back of Jameson’s neck. Jameson seized in pain, trying to lift his hand to swat the man’s hand away. His weakened state was no match for the iron grip.

”Y’know…I am very impressed at how you did that” The mans German accent cut through the woods with a deep rumble. Jameson knew that he was the doctor Anti kept in the basement. “Never would’ve guessed you knew anything other than to be good to me.” His words were clumsy and non-emotive. “But, I now realize that you don’t know how to do that either” Tears started to spring from Jameson’s eyes as he thrashed weakly, leaving no struggle for Henrik, as he flipped Jameson over on his back. Jamesons back arched as he writhed in pain. “It was my fault, I know. I assumed you weren’t so able…and cognizant.” 

Jameson continued to writhe, twisting to escape from underneath the doctor despite his injuries pulsing in agony. The doctor cupped the mans face, silently demanding him to face him. “But that’s okay, We’ll just start over, and make sure that every knot is tied just as tight as the last” The doctor trailed his finger along the mans charred wrists in monotonous motion; It started to feel as if strings slinked through his blood; Disgust creased his chapped lips. 

Henrik got closer, speaking at a violent whisper. “I’ll rip…every last feeling of rebellion from your pathetic brain that you won’t even know how to sign your name, because all you can ever think about is mine” Henrik smiled wide and crazed; the moonlight twinkled off his teeth. Jameson was frozen with scared eyes beneath who he thought was the doctor Anti kept in the basement, yet from the way blood trailed down from his eyes and nose, from the way Henrik’s pupils engulfed the blue of his irises, Jameson realized Anti was still alive and wasn’t his only body. Henrik’s fingers twirled a piece of Jameson’s hair as he spoke,  “But we will take our time. I can’t lose a human like you. Who feels so good to put on. Even right now…I’m itching to feel you again.”

Anti got up from the ground. Standing over Jameson, he grabbed his leg, to which Jameson gasped sharply, and started to pull him back towards the barns direction, Jameson harsh twisting doing nothing with the little strength he had. He prayed and prayed for something, anything! He wish to rip the nails boarding up his voice to scream, “Free me! Help me! I’m here! Help!” until his throat was torn to shreds from pleading. 

In the corner of his eye, a light unlike the moon light glimmered through the trees. It was some ways in the distance. Jameson whose heart leaped for the rest of his being, begged him to take action. Shrill whistles escaped Jameson’s lips on after another, his call for help. Anti let go of Jameson’s leg with a painful thump. He had not registered the pain as whistles continued to leap from his mouth, as a scream for help. 

Then, a sharp force to the mouth knocked Jameson apart. All the sudden strength, courage, his whistles, were knocked towards the wind with a swift kick to the face, giving nothing but an agonizing crack. Anti giggled profusely at Jameson’s decaying state, knowing he’d struck where his last bit of energy was. “They don’t care, Jameson. Nobody does. Nobody can and will care as much as I do.” Anti spoke darkly to an unconscious Jameson. Anti narrowed his eyed, looking up towards light source. As quickly as it appeared, it promptly vanished within the night, probably thinking it was nothing to check out. Anti sighed in relief; he would have had to kill someone and ironically, was not in the mood tonight.

He reached down and grabbed Jamesons leg. He adjusted the way the mans body was twisted were he laid, unfolding him to have him lay on his back. Anti whistled an unnamed tune, as he dragged his doll back home. 

Notes: I’m back??? I don’t know, between real life and tumblr, I have yet to find a healthy balance. But, I realized that just writing “mediocre” short stories about my favorite boys is really the only thing that keeps me sane (ironically). And just realizing that posting on tumblr isn’t and doesn’t have to feel like a “full time job with perfection”, so I’m just letting myself have fun and I hope you find something you like within that too.

Would you mind to do “You’ll be mine soon enough” with Marvin and Anti?

Think – think of the others. Think of – of – 

“Th̷i̕s͞ ͢i͡s̛ ex͝actly̶ w̵h͢a̢t̴ ̨I lo̵ve ab͜ou͏ty̢ou,͘ m͜a̢g͢i͏c̕i̧a͞n,” Anti hissed as his hands tightened on the sides of Marvin’s head, hooked nails drawing pinpricks of blood from his scalp that were instantly swallowed by the static buzzing around his head. “Yo͘u̕r̛ res̵i̛l͞ien̢ce. Yo͝u͏r̶ d͠efia͜nc̵e͝.Every͟ ̶mom͠enţ ̧y̧o͢u s̢tr̛u̧gģl͜e̢ ͠i͘s ͞a mome͠͏n̴t̴͟͡ ̡̀t̀͢h́͞a͏͡t I g̵et̨ ̢͘to̕͞͠ ̴̨p͠unis̴̨h ͏y͢͡ou f̵̛ơ̕r!”

The low growl in Marvin’s throat rose to a short, wordless scream as the corruption drilled deeper, swirled thicker, its invasion stabbing at the back of his wide, bloodshot eyes and spilling messages into his mind.

N͝um̨̡b̧͝.͟ ̡͢W͘ȩaḱ͞͏e̢͡n̵̶͞e̴͡d. Sų͘b͠mit.̵͜ ͝ 

Śer̡va̛n̢t̨.̧ S̛͏͜ur̀r͢͞en̕d̶̸͜èr͏͠. P̧u͠͠p̶p͡et҉. 

Y͏o̴̢u͟'̨͝r͠͡e m̵͜i͝ne.

He couldn’t find the strength to look away as it stormed around his head in disorienting spirals, but more terrifying was the fact that the longer he stared into those emerging patterns, the less painful they became – the more he wanted to look at them.

“Liste̶n ca̵ŗęf̕ul͡ly̡ ̴no͠w̶…” Anti purred, his voice a thousand miles away, yet close and immediate, breath scalding against Marvin’s ears as he whispered into them. “T̵h̨i̴s̕ ̡i̷ş en͠t̴ir͠el̵yn̨at͡urál̀.”

Natural. Natural. This is entirely natural. 

If this was natural, why…why should he be resisting?

“T̨his̛ ̸i̸s whát y̧o͞u'̵ve ̢b͏ee͜n̶ ̴wa͘n̴t̨i̷ng.”

Wanting. Wanting. I’ve been wanting this.

All at once he was aware of every tingling, humming, burning sensation. It was pain, but…a good pain. Good pain? As he registered it, his senses became muddled in it, increasingly unsure of what was pain and what was pleasure.

“You̕'̷l͘l be̷ m̛i̵n̢e s̸óon̷ ̴en̨ough.Mỳ ̡p̕up̵p̸e̸t.”

Mine. His. Mine. His. Natural. Wanting. His. 

It was natural to be his puppet. He had always…wanted to be. Finally Marvin found that he had the ability to blink. He did so, just once, and as the static receded from his blurry vision to settle more deeply in his mind, Marvin could see his master grinning openly at him. 

In this foggy, staticky state, it felt good to realize that someone was pleased with him. Dazedly, he smiled back.

i gotta say. one of the things i really like about JJ is that Jack like… chose him? like knowing full well that he would be another ego, Jack still created him. with the others, except maybe Anti, I figure Jack was mostly just playing a character for fun, you know? Chase was a funny parody video that turned into a whole character with backstory, Henrik was a goof for doctor videos, and Jackie and Marvin were designed to fit their games or power hours too. I feel like Jack didn’t really have a story for any of them back then, but JJ? Jack designed JJ knowing where he would fit in the story, knowing he needed another character and anticipating that we would immediately get attached to him. Jack picked out everything about him knowing he would be sticking around. I just like that fact about him haha. the chosen one….

Story of A P̢u̵p͠p̕e͘t (Regarding Lost Things)

[.... . .-.. .--. / .... . .-.. .--. / .... . .-.. .--.]

Available on AO3!

words: 1921 (written in fake audio-transcript format)

genre: ... spooky-ish Magnus Archives rip-off with some YouTuber Egos? more likely than you think. (no pairing this time.)

summary:

Here's a podcast in which the Host tells the unseen stories of infinite universes to the curious.

These stories are all true. They are not made up by the Host. (Those days are gone.)

Listen closely; you're in for something interesting.

In today's episode: A puppet theater, hidden in plain sight.

notes: this picture has one (1) vague easter egg and one (1) unnecessary greek mythology reference. that's how we roll.

ps: please, for the love of god, read @pxppet's story here! technically, this fantastic piece of writing threw me back into the dynamics of the two characters again, and that's what made it possible for me to publish this one thingie here today. so i owe you, @pxppet, a debt of gratitude for that. thank you so much for your wonderful work. and so, go on, everyone else, read it!

36 with PM?

“Poor little puppet...You’ve lost your way. In this world, it’s so hard for fools to think for themselves, isn’t it?” Puppetmaster crooned as he wound the pulsing strings around his plaything’s neck. “Why don’t you let Master do all of the thinking for you? My control is so much easier; it’s what you crave. I’ll fill every crevice in that empty head...You’ll be so much happier this way, don’t you think?” With one more tug, it was over. “Yes. You do.”

:D that's me