#yes i actually have three tags for dapper jack

[septic-dr-schneep]

how does each ego react to being flirted with?

Anti: When someone flirts with him, he does nothing but giggle and playwith his knife, sneering at them with all of his fangs bared. His eyes sputterbetween blue and black and his glitching intensifies greatly, so any noise hemakes comes in stops and starts. Because static obscures him, the flirter cannever tell if the expression on his face is one of triumph or hatred, but hecertainly doesn’t flirt back. He wants them to work for his affection while hebasks in the attention.

Jackieboy: He laughs at first, thinking that they’re just another heroworshipper, but when he realizes they’re serious, his face turns almost as redas his jumpsuit. He laughs again, gentler this time, and starts shifting hisweight back and forth. He offers a cute, crooked little smile that eventuallyturns into a full-on grin, letting the flirter know just how proud he is to bethe object of their affections. From there, he’ll probably throw his head back,square his shoulders and make a confident, flirty remark in return.

Marvin: He’s really, genuinely startled; he doesn’t understand whysomeone would want to flirt with him when there are clearly other versions of himwho are just as attractive. If the flirter persists, he cautiously starts toreciprocate until he thinks he can be comfortable with them. He doesn’t likethe in-your-face, obvious flirting, just kind, subtle remarks that make himsmile. Once he’s comfortable, he’ll become a little dreamy, setting his chin inhis hand and just taking in the sights as they flirt gently back and forth.

Schneep: He’s a pretty good flirter himself, but when his target actuallyreciprocates, it knocks him off hisfeet and he becomes a stammering mess. He fiddles with his hands a lot and doeshis best to respond, but if they openly, blatantly say he’s attractive, he’llforget how to speak coherently. He blushes an embarrassing bright pink, whichmakes him all the more flustered. Eventually he’ll hide his face in his hands,but the flirter can tell he’s smiling through his fingers. Once the flirtertones it down a little, he’s able to calm down and focus on answering properly.

Chase: He finds blatant flirting to be absolutely hilarious, but he’llplay along just to see the bystanders’ reactions. If he’s going to respondseriously, however, the flirting needs to be sincere and sweet. He’ll pause,looking the flirter up and down, his whole demeanor softening. He’ll duck hishead with just a hint of a smile, flushing, and shift closer in an interested,focused way. All of his attention is on the other person now and it stays that wayso he can respond with a coy little remark and a well-timed wink.

Robbie: Most people avoid talking to him at all and even if someone wereto flirt, he would be completely oblivious, just sort of nodding or shrugging inresponse to whatever they were saying. One of the others would inevitablynotice and have to explain it to him, but once they managed to get it across,his eyes would go as big as saucers. He’d get the biggest, dopiest smileimaginable and would start hyperventilating a little just because he’s so excited! Someone likes him! Someonethinks he’s cute! As soon as that processed, he’d march right up to the personwho flirted with him and pick them up in a big ol’ bear hug. He doesn’t knowhow to flirt back, but he knows how to say thank-you.

Jameson: He’d square his shoulders and tilt his head, eyebrows rising, moustache twitchingwith mingled curiosity and interest at the plucky nerve of this gentleperson. Ofcourse, in responding, he would be a complete gentleman, taking off his hat andholding it against his chest as a sign of respect and care. His eyes sparkle, he chuckles warmly andhis smile lights up his whole face as he offers them a bow and a kiss to thehand. He gets very expressive when he flirts back, poeticizing about theirbeauty and charm and kindness as he serves them tea – he’s already setting up their first date.

[soulxism-archive]

——— character question sheet

▌real name: Aiden Barnes ▌single or taken: Single but Taken depending on verse. ▌abilities or powers: Aiden was trained under the United States Marine Corps he as his stamina and endurance at peek levels. He has excellent marksmanship, during basic training he got 9/10 on his shooting test. Once he progressed to his special ops unit he was trained with tactical espionage, Close combat, and he can hack things ( I forgot the actual word). Once he was rescued with shiny new parts his left side is much stronger due to the military grade materials. He can lift up to 200 lbs with his left hand and withstand bullets. His left eye can scan individuals but not in clear form like other androids. the data processed is too much for a human brain and he just tends to not use that feature. He can interface with certain items like doors and cameras with no problem. Interfacing with anything like a computer will cause him to have headaches, interfacing with another android is spotty he can transmit pieces of memories like a flipbook and emotions but anything too detailed will cause him pain. ▌eye colour: Blue with specks of green. ▌hair colour: Brown ▌family members: He has his mother Mary Antonelli-Barnes and his sister Emily Barnes, His Paternal grandparents John and Cecilia Barnes. He knows nothing about his material grandparents. His father, John “Jack” Barnes passed away while he was a POW. Other than his intermediate family he has three uncles and two aunts from his fathers side and ten cousins in total. He knows nothing of his mothers side but his mother did mention a sister.  Other family members are his Marine family. ▌pets: Riley is a rescued dog that came from underground dog fighting ring. She is loyal to Aiden and will do anything to protect him. She has also a keen sense when he’s having an episode. ▌something they don’t like: The Brass, He has inkling feeling that they were set up during their last mission into a dangerous area with no back up. He also hates those that try to control others for their own selfish needs. ▌hobbies/activities: He likes to sing and cook, both activities help him relax when the stress is too high. He enjoys walking in the park to find some resemblance of peace and sometimes he would go to the VA and spend time with other soldiers that just needs someone to listen to their stories, He takes Riley everywhere. ▌ever hurt anyone before: Yes ▌ever killed anyone before: Yes - sometimes even innocents. ▌animal that represents them: Sable - Cool and confident - if not a little over-polished - sables are the most graceful of the herbivore personalities. With their outstanding physical presence and successful work ethic, they enjoy the universal admiration from colleagues and friends. Dapper in dress and noble in bearing, their tastes and lifestyle are refined and restrained and they disapprove of flashy or ostentatious behavior in any form. ▌worst habits: Being distant and pushing people that care about him away. He believes that everything that has happened to him was something that he deserved. He also has no self-preservation when it comes to dangerous missions. ▌sexual orientation: Bisexual/Demiromantic ▌thoughts on marriage/kids: He isn’t in the right headspace to think out marriage or kids but it was something he wanted. To find that one person to share the rest of his life with, to have a family of his own. Of course even know buried underneath all his scars he still wants that. ▌fears: Losing more people around him that he cares for. Waking up and realize he’s still captured. Fireworks and loud sudden noises (Gunfire, loud music and Riley’s barking are the only exception), The dark, he always has a lamp on or some form of lighting at night, when he was captured he was dragged underground where he was held for a year and a half. He’s afraid of falling asleep and being vulnerable, he has his gun tucked under his pillow due to this. ▌style preferences: When he’s on duty: Button up shirt, dress pants and appropriate shoes, on missions he wears a shirt and jeans. Off duty he enjoys hoodies and sweatpants, jeans, boots and v-neck shirts/button down shirts. ▌someone they love: His family even if he became distant with them. If he has a significant other he will love them dearly. ▌approach to friendships: He is a little weary on new friendships, he knows that people will not understand the horrors he lived and would only end up leaving him. ▌thoughts on pie: He loves them, he still remembers the pies his grandmothers always baked when he was a kid. ▌favorite drink: Whiskey. ▌favorite place to spend time at: The park, The Beach ( to sit on the shore and watch the waves) or he does go to the cemetery to visit his father and a tombstone of Ryan, he fought tooth and nail so that the city did a memorial for those android that had fallen in combat. ▌swim in the lake or in the ocean: The Ocean ▌their type: Anyone who gives him a chance, who is understanding and helps him break down the walls he built around his heart. He still holds Ryan close to his heart even after years has passed since his death. He enjoys being with someone who is intelligent and can keep up with him, someone who has a sense of humor and who has a good heart. He doesn’t want anyone who wishes harm upon others or wants to hurt him for the hell of it. In male partners he does like it if they’re taller, he just wants snuggles leave him alone. ▌camping or indoors: Indoors

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Tagging: 

[succinct-assbutt]

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part 3)

Pairing: Dean X Reader.

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, Dean being a jealous bb

S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Word count: 5k O_O

Summary: Dean, trying to get accustomed to Y/N’s family and her life in Boston, finds himself worrying about their very own lives together and what the future holds. Will he manage to find a permanent position in her life, or is it all just a role he must play for these two weeks?

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: I’ve been writing this over a span of two weeks and had initially planned to divide it into two or three parts, but decided against it. I hope you like this.

Tagging: @sassyspn67 , @awkward--jay , @daesunglg​ ,  @hayleynightcore​

                                                      ~*~*~

Dean prays his nervousness doesn’t show in the weak smile he offers the table of gleaming faces. They all stand as the three of them approach, all with welcoming smiles, all eyes trained on Y/N as she walks to them like a prodigal daughter returning home after so long.

 S/P/N goes in for an immediate hug once she’s close enough and engulfs her little sister, squeezing the life out of her. He tries not to chuckle at the way Y/N groans—countless stories about their childhood together, about how close they were and unbreakable bonds and up until today Dean has never once met S/P/N, but he can’t help but find the way she treats her sister amusing.

 The grin on her face is wide as she pulls away. “Look at you!” She says, eyes raking up and down Y/N’s face. “You’re so different now, oh my God!”

 “Please don’t start with me, we only just got here.” The y/h/c-haired girl replies as she straightens out the creases in her skirt. Before she can even get another word out, her mother is at her side, an ambient smile gracing her face.

 “Well, S/P/N’s not wrong.” Her voice is a deep baritone, husky and rich as she gives her daughter a kiss on the cheek then turns to the boys. And that’s when the anxiety comes flooding back.

 A queasiness in his stomach, a twitch in his jaw—something basic and miniscule like breathing or blinking, something he does unconsciously, suddenly feels mechanical. Forced. But the elder Winchester masks it with an amiable smile, the corner’s of his eyes scrunching up. Y/N’s mother’s eyes then travel to his own and her face lights up. “Dean…”

 “Marilyn…” He smiles.

  They hug like their old friends, like this isn’t their third (fourth?) time meeting; that’s the kind of person Y/N’s mom is. Everyone is her friend. Everyone is adored company rather than a burden, and Dean can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by this level of kindness because God, could he pick a leaf.

 Her face folds like dough when she simpers. “looking dapper as ever. Sam, don’t think I’ve forgotten you.”

 S/P/N cuts in, earning the elder Winchester’s attention. “So you’re the esteemed-Dean, huh?” She asks, brown eyes scrutinizing him; despite being her blood, she looks nothing like Y/N. A few join similarities here courtesy of genetics and maybe some shared habits, but Dean knows Y/N enough that he’d be able to distinguish her if she even had a twin.

 “Wow.” S/P/N turns to Y/N with a ribbing smile. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

 “Shut up.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but the pink-tint in her face is undeniable—so she’s nervous, too. Good. Someone has to be, he thinks. Maybe Y/N can take his place in this apprehensive state, salvage him from his feelings.

 “The stories I’ve heard about you…” S/P/N says fondly. “Welcome. It’s great to finally meet you.”

 “Yeah, likewise. Your sister goes on and on about you.”

 “Likewise.”

 Dean’s expression then shows hwo taken abck he is at that very moment: his eyes widen a smidge and his brows quirk. Turning to Y/N, he asks, “Does she now?”

 The young hunter’s face is a deep red as she shoots her sister a dangerous look, jaw clenched. “Really?”

 “What?”

 Rolling her eyes, she then links her arm with his. “Come on, Dean. There’s still a ton of more people we have to meet.”She says  as she turns and strings him along with her. They scuttle aside, leaving Sam deeply invested in chatter with Marilyn as they venture into the crowd. Amused, the elder Winchester’s smirk doesn’t leave his face as they move.

 He leans in, voice hushed. “So, you talk about me a lot, huh?”

 “Shut up, Winchester.”

 “That’s not a no.”

 “It’s not a yes, either.”

 “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 Y/N then halts to a stop and whips around to face him, face constricted with irritation. Satisfaction floods Dean at the sight; pretending they’re in a relationship doesn’t mean abandoning his liking for razzing the young-girl. If anything, he reasons, it’s a catalyst.

 “Dean,…”She warns, her voice as thin as ice. “I’m warning you…I’m not one to shy away from slapping you right in front of all these people?”

 “You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend…”Smirking, he goes to wrap his arms around her waist and pulls Y/N in, tipping his head down to look at her. Her expression then falters for a moment; her face falls and the fire in her eyes fades; but its brief, almost indiscernible, because seconds later her pout resurfaces.

 Their bodies are flush together, her nimble waist caged in his hands, and Dean tries so hard to ignore the way the tips of his fingers heat up at the contact.

 Instead, he chuckles and loosens his grip. Y/N manages to slip out as she rolls her eyes—even then, her blush is still evident.

 “Come on…”She links Dean’s hand in hers, and leads him over to another table crowded with some cousins and aunts. The garden is dotted with various people, all smiling when they see her, all going in for hugs and pecks on the cheeks and all giving such sly smiles when Y/N says that Dean and her are dating. Some congratulate them, some, whom Dean has had the pleasure of meeting before like Y/N’s cousin Garth, hold a teasing glint in their eyes.

 They talk to relatives and uncles and eerie aunts who, right in front of Y/N, try to hit on Dean. The garden is buzzing with life from all ends, music floating amongst chatter of guests, people dancing,  and as she talks more and more with old friends and relatives, he can see the young girl gradually unwinding.

 Her smile, ever-present and as radiant as star, grows with each second, with each interaction. She’s mirthful. Happy. If that’s the case, Dean wonders, then why was she so reluctant about driving out to Boston? Why had Y/N shown the idea of coming out here such disdain?  The question swims in his mind, but that’s as far as it goes. Dean doesn’t bother asking. That’s not his focus now—his focus now is playing his part and helping her get through these two weeks without any setbacks, and so he allows himself the luxury of sitting back and indulging in the buffet with Y/N. Their earlier hunger returns with a vengeance once they spot the table lined with various foods.

 They’re stacking piles of pastries onto their plates, when all of a sudden comes a voice.

 “How did you two meet?” Uncle Gary, a burly bull trapped in a man’s body, inquires. He’s got hair as grey as the ash on his cigar, and each time he speaks, the thick mustache atop his lip wiggles like a caterpillar. His wife, Steph, stands by his side, eagerly staring and waiting for a response.

 “Uhm..”Dean’s gaze slides to Y/N. She looks back at him, a brief horror flashing on her face. For a few seconds, they panic. Shit.“We met…”

 “In the park!”

 The elder Winchester, shocked, glances over at his girlfriend. She’s smiling at her uncle, her cool demeanor seamlessly in place. If you look hard enough, you can see the glint of pride in her eyes from just saving their asses.

 Uncle Gary’s thick grey brows quirk curiously. “In the park?”

 “Yeah…” Y/N affirms. “Well, by the park. I was, uh, walking my dog one morning when all of a sudden this car comes speeding out of nowhere as we’re crossing.” She casts cursory glance at Dean, who tries not to smile, both in appreciation and subtle arrogance.

 “Yeah.” He supplements, earning the attention momentarily. It’s kind of funny how synchronal they are—a close call like that, teetering along the line between exposing themselves, but Y/N manages to redeem them, and Dean, like a dancer moving to the tune of her symphony, follows without a beat.

  “See, I was on my way to work that morning. I was late, so you can imagine what a rush I was in, right? So there I am, cursing to myself as I speed down the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on my tie, when this fuzzy little poodle—“

 “Jack Russell.” She corrects. “ He was a jack Russell.”

 Dean raises his finger in benediction.  “Right, Jack Russell. So—all of a sudden, he jumps out onto the road and I’m in shock. “

 “Luckily, with quick reflexes like Dean’s, he managed to swerve out of the way. He misses him. ” The young girl plays the role so earnestly, her furrowed brow and weary eyes expression selling her distress. “God, poor Kujo was shaking like a leaf. “

 “So, Y/N, pissed as hell, tries waving me down. She’s running after my car until I finally pull over and she comes up to my window, and just starts exploding.” Dean’s eyes widen for emphasis, his hands waving in the air. It’s a known trait of his. Whenever telling story, to try and spice thing up or make them seem much more exciting than they actually are, the elder Winchester will flail around and pull faces, and Y/N won’t admit it, but she find it absolutely adorable.

 “She’s going on about calling the cops and road rules and safety, but at that moment all I’m focusing on is how goddamn y/e/c her eyes are.” He explains. He doesn’t notice that, as soon as the words leave him, the young girl’s face flushes red. He goes on, says something more, something that makes Aunt Steph’s face fold and crease like cookie dough as she smiles, and then finishes off with a firm arm around her shoulder.

 He gives it a firm squeeze, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Long story short: I didn’t even show up for work in the end.”

 “Wow.” Aunt Steph’s grey eyes go wide like planets. “Unconventional grounds indeed.”

 “That story was a rollercoaster from start to finish! Loved it!” Uncle Gary, smile engulfing his face, slaps a friendly hand onto Dean’s shoulder who glances at Y/N.

 The pair shares a confided glance, their pride shining in the way they smirk at each other. They’ve pulled it off.  

 The elder Winchester offers a proud smile, fighting the urge to turn to his partner, to pull his lips back in a teasing smirk, for the smugness in his eyes to say I told you so, I told you the doggie hit-and-run would sell. Instead, however, he focuses on Uncle Gary telling him about his very own Terrier that nearly got hit by cyclist as she and her aunt wander off to the sidelines.

 “Well, well, well…” Someone says from behind them.  Dean instinctively turns; his eyes meet with a pair of deep blue ones staring intently at him, at Y/N, a lopsided grin set onto the stranger’s face. His hair, a deep onyx, cascades down his neck to his shoulders. He’s dressed in a suit, very official, very formal, and it makes the elder Winchester’s stomach turn for a moment.

 “Look who it is.” The stranger says.

 Dean furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”

 “Rick!”

 His head snaps in the Y/N’s direction, and his confusions swells even more when he sees the wide grin lacing the young girl’s face.

 Her eyes trained on the stranger, she shakes her head slowly. “Oh my God.”

 “Missed me?” The stranger smirks at her, then goes in for a hug.

 Dean steps aside and out of the way, trying not to bump into the table and almost topples over a tray of croissants. He watches, bewildered, as the two exchange pleasantries. Y/N’s arms are slung around his neck, as she giggles then pulls away.

 “Very much.” She smiles at him. “Wow. It’s been so long.”

 “Hasn’t it?”

 “Dean!”

 The elder Winchester, attention grasped, looks to her. She points at the blue-eyed man. “This is Rick—Rick Montoijia! He was my neighbor when I still lived my parents from, like, two houses down. Uhm, rick, this is my boyfriend, Dean.”

 “Heya.” Rick stretches his hand out for a shake. Hesitating, Dean eyes it momentarily and then finally accepts the gesture.

 “Hi….” His eyes scan the stranger’s face dubiously, his grip firm, trying to assert dominance. And all of a sudden, something has brewed in his chest.

 Something hot and vehement in the space below his ribs; an energy, a sense of intimidation. It’s stupid to feel, yes, but Dean can’t help it—his chest floods with a jealousy as he lets go of the other man’s hand.

 With an excited smile, Y/N addresses Rick. “What are you doing here? We—I haven’t seen you in ages.”

 “S/P/N’s wedding.” He points to Y/N’s sisters standing a few meters away. “Obviously I knew you’d be in town for that. I figured,’ well, when was the last time I saw Y/N L/N?’ and here I am.”

 “Here you are.” Dean cuts in.

 All eyes shift to him. Y/N peers over Rick’s shoulder, trying to get a better glimpse, and the green-eyed hunter offers a strained smile; one far from genuine, something the young girl is obviously familiar with, because her smile begins to melt away at the sight. Dean doesn’t care. His gaze then shifts to Rick, whose smile is still smeared across his chiseled face.

 “Uhm, yeah…”The dark-haired man laughs nervously. “Here I am. So…”His attention averts onto Y/N. “How long are you gonna be in town? We need to catch up.”

 “Definitely. I’m here for—“

 “We’re here—“

 “—for two weeks. Yeah, we’re here for two weeks.” Y/N finishes, voice holding a dangerous edge to it. Dean chooses to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the dark-haired stranger’s face lights up with mirth.

 “Wow. That’s great.”

 “It really is, Rick. Anyhow, it was great meeting you, but we have to go.”

 “What?”

 Dean doesn’t give her a chance to object as his hand goes to Y/N’s waist, and he nudges her forward, quickly trying to get away as fast as possible. Luckily, they succeed; standing behind them, Rick offers a weak, awkward goodbye as they move further away. In his chest, dean’s heart thrums rapidly, incessantly.

 His jealousy boils like a hot stew, threatening to spill over, and he suffocates it; he’s being irrational. He’s being stupid. That guy is just one of Y/N’s many friends, he reasons. He’s just another familiar face from Boston, a ghost from her past, nothing too serious…

 But the call to worry is stronger than reprimand for Dean.

 When she notices his stiffness, Y/N turns to look at the elder Winchester. Concern swims in her y/e/c eyes. “You okay?”

 Attention grasped, Dean turns to her, finds her imploring eyes set on him. They’re back inside, sitting with Sam and the bride and groom, and the band is playing some variation of Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight.

 Trying to stifle his feelings, the elder Winchester regains composure, offering a tight-smile. “Oh, yeah.”

 “Sure? You seem…absent. Like something’s bothering you.”

 “No, nothing’s wrong.” He lets out a sigh. He tries to steady the quaking in his core, letting his gaze drift across the room. Y/N scoots closer in and rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickles his jaw.

 “If you say so…”She says with sigh, her breath fanning against his skin. Her body is warm against his, like a tepid lava flowing down his skin, soothing, therapeutic almost.

 “Good job back there with nearly killing my dog, by the way. Put on quite the show.”

 The elder Winchester laughs. It’s soft and feint but she can feel it in the rumble of his body beneath her head.

 “Yeah, well, what can I say—I’m a sucker for theatre.”

 “Are you now?”

 “Oh yeah, massive fan. Plus, anything to get my story told.” Dean senses it hanging in the air like a string suspended between them, a silent question. It’s quiet for moment.  He then tips his head to glimpse down at her, a smile playing at his lips.

 “Say it.”

 “I don’t want to.”

 “You have to.”

 Y/N bites her smile back, a row of her chalky white teeth contrasting the burgundy on her lips, then lets it all bubble out. “Fine! You were right. Your good looks and charm won me over—there, are you happy?”

 Dean doesn’t bother to try and mask his smile. “Extremely.”

 “What’re you guys talking about?”

 His head turns; S/P/N waddles over and pulls out a chair a few seats away, smiling as she sits down. She folds the pleats in her burgundy skirt over.

 “Stuff.” Replies Y/N, head still draped against Dean’s shoulder.

 “What kinda stuff?”

 “Couple stuff. Dean and Y/N stuff. You wouldn’t understand.” She smirks; then Dean pokes her side and she lets out a giggle; it’s a sweet, quiet sound, like the hum of a bird or the wind wisping through the trees, and it makes the pit in the elder Winchester’s stomach from earlier yawn open.

 As Y/N speaks with her sister, the elder Winchester feels a flood of melancholy coming on. He can always tell when it’s happening; it’s like watching everything around you happening at a normal pace when all of a sudden things are slowed down, sluggish, delayed. That’s what Dean feels like right now. He loathes it.

 The evening is electric and dressed in a celebratory energy. More guests have arrived for the dinner, all pouring in in massive crowds and gaudy sartorial dresses. Dean has to stand when he greets them all, offering an amiable smile, the occasional hug and peck as they all fawn—oh my God, the Dean? Y/N’s Dean?

 It gets annoying having to hear everybody so jubilant over meeting him, at a point. They’re excited to be meeting their sister’s boyfriend, their niece’s lover, the man whom she, too, shall bring back here to Boston in a few years to wed. To them, Dean assumes, meeting him is a gateway to another one of this sartorial dinners just a few years ahead.

 To him, it’s plain insulting.

 Why did he even agree to this? Playing pretend had seemed less tedious in his mind. Doing it now, the elder Winchester is wrought with negative emotions; with jealousies and blind resentments and a bitterness because he shall have anything but this future with Y/N, and God, is he pissed.

 “Dean,” She says, pulling him from his reverie. Aunt Steph and good ol’ Gary sit across from them, sipping on some champagne and laughing with Y/N’s parents, and to their left is S/P/N and Japheth. Everyone is laughing and chatting and the air reeks of jubilance, except for the corner where a heavy grey cloud hangs over Dean’s head.

 Y/N’s hand is on his as he turns to her, her y/e/c eyes trained intently on his. “What’s wrong?” She pries. He has to say something. Lying would only act as a catalyst for his negative emotions (lying to Y/N, at least). So, instead, Dean heaves a heavy breaths and gathers the feelings in his chest into a single nest.

 “Nothing’s wrong.” He says. “I’m just trying to let this all sink in. Your family. It’s pretty overwhelming meeting all the people in your life who mean the world to you.”

 “I’m sorry if this isn’t how you planned to spend the next two weeks, Dean.” Y/N’s gaze falters, moving to their hands loosely draped over each other.  

 Dean’s eyes follow. He shrugs and, taking her hand in his, slowly links them together absentmindedly. Their fingers fit perfectly, like a key slipping into a lock, like a tight knot, and he tries to ignore it.

 “Don’t be, Y/N.” He replies. “Besides—I’m the one who offered this in the first place. I don’t really have the luxury of complaining.”

 “Should I give it to you?”

  “Keep it.”

 “Sure?

 When Dean finally looks up, he finds Y/N’s eyes trained on him, her lips pulled back in pleasant smile. In the background, the music slows to a stop as it shifts to the next song. More upbeat, more jazzy and fun. The room’s chatter provides the perfect undertone, but Dean ignores it—all of it, because all he can focus on right now is Y/N.

 His Y/N. For tonight, for two weeks.

 Whatever.

 He’ll take what he can get, even if it’s having the honor of playing her boyfriend for a period of time and then going back to being just her best-friend; to being her Dean and not her Dean.  Going back to a life where she sees their relationship, although intense, as nothing more than a deep friendship.

 It’s only been a few hours, but it’s crazy how much can be revealed to you in such a span of time. Dean sees it now—sees Y/N and, even if he didn’t think it possible, even more of her than he already has. He sees Y/N in her element, with her family, with her friends and with a sense of mirth radiating off her…And as great as it is, all it does for him is nudge at the thought that he shall never be part of that.

 They mean a lot to each other, he knows that much, but today has made him wonder if he will ever be part of Y/N’s suburban life, whether he’ll breach past their life spent in the bunker and in pages of lore and into that which holds this very idyllic essence.

 The thought, daunting and unfortunately saddening, hits the elder Winchester like a ton of bricks. He immediately turns away. He rests his focus on something—anything—that isn’t Y/N smiling at him and causing an uproar in the space behind his heart.

 The night simmers on, laced with laughter and chatter and smiles too bright for Dean to bare. He only watches from the sidelines, an observer, a spectator...Y/N is the center of the orbit that is the eclectic crowd. She smiles and the entire room responds with an abundance of simpers; her laugh is a mellifluous symphony overpowering the music, her eyes glint like the stars in the sky and she throws her head back and captivates the attention of everyone in the room. She reels them all in like a magnet, like she’s magic…

 And to Dean she is…

 She always has been and always will be. She is ethereal and glimmering and inside her is a flame and a tornado and such vehemence that would tear a mere mortal apart, but doesn’t even scratch her skin the slightest.

 Y/N is magic and she will always be magic, and Dean knows this. He wishes he didn’t, but he does, and it hurts…Because the hollowness in his chest that comes from watching her so radiant makes him wonder why he said yes to the torture of being just another planet in her orbit in the first place…

 ~*~

 The list is exceedingly long, but what stands out predominantly on the account of things they were meant to discuss before they left home (but didn’t), is the sleeping arrangement.

 Standing in their hotel bedroom, the elder Winchester stares at the single bed, at the six fat pillows nested at the head and the vast comforter definitely two huge for two. It’s a lover’s suit; of course the hotel would be expecting customer’s to be doing anything but sleeping in these sheets, but Dean’s case is the exception.

 Y/N is in the bathroom getting ready for bed. The sound of the shower running echoes throughout the otherwise silent room and the elder Winchester feels a small welt of nervousness claw at his belly. They’ve shared beds before. This shouldn’t be a big deal…

 But…

 God, he’s acting like a teenage boy with this. It’s not that hard, Dean tells himself. They can even divide it into two regions if they want, Y/N’s, and then the extremely comfy one with the extra pillow for him. They can sort this out. It doesn’t have to be awkward, eh tries to reason, but something tugs at his gut and tells him otherwise, because Dean feels all sorts of anxious.

 Maybe it’s the thought of lying to sleep with her after the mortal sin they’ve just committed throughout the day: fraud. Artifice. Maybe, Dean thinks, it’s the fact that they’ll have to pretend to be together even as they lay to sleep that terrifies him maybe it’s the lover’s suit. He and Y/N are anything but. All the times they’ve slept in the same bed in the past, it’s been in dingy, itchy, sketchy motels, not five stars hotels that probably provide complimentary condoms.

 He lifts the thick blanket on the bed and crawls under it, trying to get comfortable. The bed is cloud, embracing him, engulfing him into its form like it’s an amoeba and him its prey. God, this is comfy. Dean’s eyes flutter and he tips his head back in subtle ecstasy.

 Right at that moment, the door to the bathroom swings open.

 Y/N stomps out in pajama shorts and a towel clasped tightly to her chest, eyes wide as she glimpses around the room. Opening his eyes, Dean then ctaches her gaze.

 “Sorry.” She apologizes and points to her beg at the foot of the bed. “I just need my shirt from my suitcase. Don’t look!”

 “No promises.” But he doesn’t, instead covering his eyes with one hand. He hears the patter of feet and the rustling of clothes as Y/N retrieves the garment, then rushes back into the bathroom. When she returns, a moment later, this time she’s fully clothed.

 “The pressure here is ace.” Y/N says, holding her fingers up in an appropriate gesture as she saunters towards the bed. She hauls her bag off and onto the floor, then climbs up, pushing the blanket aside.

 “I can’t remember the last time I took a shower and didn’t want to get out.”

 Dean lowers his hand and looks at her; hair wet and clinging to her skin, her face is bare, all the makeup from today washed away into the drain. A few pimples dot the surface of her cheeks and, although feint, there’s a single splatter of freckles just below her jaw line that Dean always finds himself admiring.

 “That’s good to know. In other news: the sleeping arrangement. How’s this gonna work?”

 “You mean top or bottom?”

 “Grow up.”

 Y/N’s grin never falters as she laughs. “I don’t really mind, Dean. If it bothers you, you could always take the floor.”

 “I never said it bothers me…”

 “Does it?”

 Her eyes are staring intently into his and he’s trying too damn hard to not get caught up in them. He shouldn’t. the moment is far from appropriate. She’s basically telling him to get out of the bed and spend the night on the floor like a hound, and heaven be damned if Dean is going to let himself focus on anything but defending himself.

 So he tips his head back slightly, locks his eyes on hers, and says, “Not at all.”

 “Then goodnight, Winchester.” Y/N smiles, before turning the night-light off and wiggling further under the blanket.

 Dean mirrors her. He slides beneath it, letting it came up to his chest and closes his eyes. He can feel the steady beat of his heart, the pulse of his blood. Sleep hovers over him like a phantom but never once dares to preside.

 Minutes pass and he’s still awake. The elder Winchester fidgets, turning on his side, eyes meeting the bright glare of the moonlight invading the room. He checks his watch on the bedside table. Two am. Still up. His eyelids feel heavy and a yawn pries his mouth open, but Dean can’t sleep, and it’s an insomnia, the worst kind of insomnia, that he’s too familiar with.

 He’s dabbled in it in the past; with the mark of cain and in purgatory. When he was demon, when Sam was soulless and when Cas was presumed dead. Dean knows this plague, greets it like an old friend, doesn’t even bother fighting it, but there’s no denying that it’s annoying. He wants rest—needs it. The last thing he needs right now is a visit from this phantom that keeps him up, staring at the blank ceiling.

 A few seconds subside when silence is broken by hushed voice.

 “Dean ar—you’re awake?” Y/N rolls over, her droopy eyes meeting his.

 The elder Winchester nods silently. His eyes burn.

 “How come?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t know why you can’t sleep?”

 “That’s what I just said.”

 The sheets shift. Y/N props herself up on her elbow, looking at him, her eyes still swimming with sleep. He wonders what woke her, but remains silent as he turns to meet her gaze.

 Y/N’s eyes are somber and intently set on him; there’s a weight on her heart for a moment, something that visibly bring out the worry in her gaze. “Nightmares?”

 She’s been with him through all of them; all those times mentioned, all those calamites in his life, Y/N has walked through them with Dean. Consequently, she can tell when something’s up. It’s comforting for Dean to know that’s she’s so in sync with him, that they’ve got this visceral connection that alerts her when something’s up, but unfortunately now it’s a bit of a false alarm.

 He shakes his head. “No. Just can’t sleep.”

 “Oh…” She voices simply and within a moment the solemnity fades. Then comes the sound of the sheets shifting, Y/N sitting up and she turns on the nightlight. The warm light right away glares onto the side of his face. Dean squints, lolling his head to the side.

 Y/N’s hair dangles around her face as she looks at him. “Anything I can do to help? Get a glass of water, sing you a lullaby?”

 “Rock me to sleep?” He supplements.

 She shrugs. “Anything.”

 Then, chuckling, elder Winchester turns away and allows his gaze to float back to the ceiling. y/N continues to speak in the background, going on about the day and tomorrow and how everything’s going to go down so that everything turns out as planned. She’s notified Sam already, apparently. Unlike Dean, he won’t have to do much besides be himself and distract Marilyn for the weekend…

 But for Dean, Y/N proclaims, it’s going to be a long two weeks: he’s going to have to do a lot more than he’d anticipated; more work, more fraud. For the following days he must wear his disguise as though it is anything but…and the funny thing? Dean knows it’s going to be elementary…

 Because they can only get so much closer.

 Because they, before today, already spent nights in bed chatting about everything and anything that came to mind; because he already used to walk inches close to her and comb his fingers through her hair and laugh and feel (God, did he feel), and so maybe this is going to be a walk in the park. Maybe it will be easy, Dean thinks—until he’s reminded of earlier at dinner and the gaping hole in his chest.

                                                       ~*~*~

Part 4

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[septic-dr-schneep]

Idea: The egos actually having a peaceful day, no anti causing trouble, no arguments in the Bordy family, no casualties, just a quiet day where they can just relax and spend time together.

If any day is going to be peaceful in Egos Central, it’ll be New Year’s Day. Jackieboy is sitting on the couch, his legs propped up on the coffee table, with his arms around Schneep and Marvin on either side of him. Chase is on the floor, his kids giggling on either side of him as they play with the Operation game they borrowed from Schneep.

Jameson is entertaining Robbie by showing him how many tricks he can do with his hat! He can roll it down the length of his arm, catch it and flip it back onto his head, and Robbie’s enthralled! Of course it does help when Marvin is subtly waving a finger or two against the arm of the couch, keeping JJ steady. It’s like clockwork by now, so he glances at Jackieboy as he works.

“A lot’s changed this year, hasn’t it?” he muses, to which Jackieboy nods.

“We got Chase, we got Jameson…Jeez, it feels like so long ago now. And we got you back too, Henrik, safe and sound and mostly unscathed after that stunt Anti pulled in August.”

The doctor shivers a little at the memory, but Jackieboy’s quick to squeeze his shoulder and distract him. “And I made my triumphant return,” he goes on, leaning his head against the back of the couch and grinning. “And the fans loved me.”

“As if there was doubt,” Schneep scoffs. “We know they always will! The little fans need the hero – we all know him, we all love him! We – Jackie!” The rest of his words are cut off by frustrated grumbling as Jackieboy abruptly decides it’s the perfect opportunity to ruffle his hair, dislodging his surgical cap from his head.

“Whoa…I got my name this year,” Marvin recalls, seeming almost startled. “Almost a year to the day since Jack created me, he finally gave me my name.”

“And it is Magnificent, bro!” Chase quips, to which his son nods vigorously and then jumps at the harsh buzz the game board makes.

“Shut up, Peter!” Schneep hollers, sitting up straight and glowering warningly at his former accountant. “You are dead, you can zip the little lip! And you, Connor, you be more careful with Peter’s remains! Perhaps Brianna should handle the little phone bone!” 

Chase’s daughter giggles proudly and nods, playfully bickering with her brother over the tools while their adoring dad actually does the work.

“And of course none of it would be possible without Jack,” Jackieboy concludes, more pensively, to which the others murmur their agreements. “We can always count on him.”

“And he can count on us, can’t he?” Marvin adds. “We’re always hanging around to have our hands on his back and support ’im.” He pauses, the traces of magic disappearing from his fingers and dropping Jameson’s hat to the floor as he takes in the expression on Jackieboy’s face. “Hey, what is it? Something wrong?”

“Ah, Jackie, are you getting a sudden cry?” Schneep huffs affectionately, patting the hero on the back with sympathy. Jackieboy laughs a little, blinking and ducking his head.

“Yeah, it’s stupid. Just…I can’t imagine what it’d be like without any of you – all of you, the fans, Jack and Signe. I know my whole world is better because of you.”

A pause follows his words, during which Jackieboy wonders if he’s said too much. Jameson picks up his hat and tips it back on his head with one hand, finding Robbie’s shoulder with the other. The zombie looks up and around at all of them, his smile wide and lopsided. Marvin tilts his head, following Robbie’s example and looking around the room, taking it all in. Chase puts his arms around his kids, tugging them against his sides where they nestle their faces against his chest. Henrik huffs again, very softly, and pulls his legs up underneath him on the couch, settling more comfortably where he is.

“True, true,” is all he has to say. No one else wants to break the finality of the agreement, so they return to their business and Jackieboy can’t help but appreciate that. It isn’t often that he gets away without the others teasing him for his soft heart.

Before he knows it, despite Jack’s long-held motto that sleep is for the weak, all of the others have fallen asleep where they are for the night, even their lightest sleepers. Jackieboy would move to get off the couch and grab some blankets, but Marvin and Schneep are both curled up against his shoulders, effectively holding him hostage. 

They’re probably going to sleep through the midnight celebration, Jackieboy muses, but he has no time to be disappointed. Movement from the corner catches his attention and he perks up. Naturally Anti would arrive late to the party, when everyone else is open and vulnerable.

Anti steps over Jameson and Robbie into the hero’s line of sight, bending down and scooping up Jameson’s hat without making a sound. He studies it for a few seconds and then glances back at Jackieboy, who, for some reason, still feels a strange sense of calm. If he needs to, he can untangle himself from his brothers in less than a second to defend them, but in the meantime he lets them keep snoring softly, unaware of the Glitch’s gaze on them.

“I̷t͜ w̵as͢ ̴j̶u̢s͟t̷ ̕th̀e tw͠o of ̸us̛ o̵n͞c̢e͢,” Anti remarks in a low voice, running his fingers over Jameson’s hat, leaving scrapes from his nails in the velvet. “No̷w ͟t̀h͠ey̛'̵rę ͟h͜e̕r͏è.”

“They changed your life too,” Jackieboy voices the rest of Anti’s thought. His enemy’s grip on the hat tightens, bending the brim, and his voice is a shade harsher when he speaks again, though no louder than before.

“I̡ ̨n̶e̶v̷er̶ as͢k̵e҉d ͡thém͞ ͏t̛o.”

“You didn’t have to. They change our lives whether we like it or not,” Jackieboy counters sternly. “I never asked for them either. I didn’t know I could have or even that I should have, but here they are.”

“B̵y t͜his̛ t̸i̕me n̕èx͢t̛ ͏year̀, th͞e͟y͞ mi̵gḩt͡ ̨noţ b͡e, h́er͜o͢. W͞h̛at'̶r͜e ͝y̛ou̡ ͏g̷oing ̡t͠o ̕d͏o ͡then̢?҉” Anti growls, flinging the hat at the farthest wall. At the dull thump close to his head, Chase stirs slightly, subconsciously curling his fingers further into his daughter’s hair. Jackieboy waits until the younger Ego goes still again before inhaling deeply.

“If it’s ever just the two of us again, it’ll break my heart,” he confesses, to which Anti smirks just a little. The smirk is wiped away by his next words: “But it won’t break my spirit. If it’s going to be me and you, it’ll be me and you. You don’t seem to realize just how much you need them, Anti. Maybe they will be gone this time next year – or maybe there’ll be more of them. Our lives may change, but you and I, who we are…that’ll stay the same. Count on that.”

Anti is quiet for a long series of seconds, aside from the buzz of static as his body glitches and twitches. “I͞ wi̛ll͡,” he swears grimly, the blackness in his eyes clearing, making way for blue. For a few solid seconds, the enemies’ eyes are similar, if not just the same, as they stare at each other. They both feel the weight of those words, whether or not they would admit it.

Some things never change. We never change. It’s the first resolution they make together and, knowing them, it will probably be the last.

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE Fanfiction - Just Around The Corner

Summary:  Anti, just like the other Egos, always looks forward to the holiday season, especially Christmas. For him, the fun begins as soon as the clock strikes December 1st. For the rest of them, that's when they need to brace themselves for whatever the Glitch has planned to make them suffer.

Jackieboy noticed something wasn’t right as soon as December 1st rolled around. Whereas Anti would—should be prowling into the kitchen for his breakfast of bloody meat like any other day, today he strode into view with a spring in his step, one which set off several of Jackieboy’s internal alarms. The rest sounded the call as soon as the Glitch peered around at the other Egos, his fangs bared in a smile.

“H͞a̶pp̢y ̵holi͝day͜ ̷season̵,” he purred, his voice crackling and breaking with a much more noticeable amount of static than usual.

The older Egos didn’t answer him, of course. They could scarcely dare to wonder what he meant by those words; their minds were already racing for an explanation of his optimism, but they couldn’t help being distracted when Jameson made the mistake of tipping his hat in response to the “well-wishes”. Chase gave Jameson a warning look, but it was too late; the young gentleman’s gesture had caught Anti’s eye.

“At least so̸m͝eone͡ here has s҉ome͢ c͢ommon co̶urt̵e̴sy̷,” he remarked, his smile widening as his head tilted. A glitching half of his head stayed contorted, flickering against his shoulder even when he moved, flinging open the fridge and grabbing his meat plate, strolling casually back out to eat alone.

“JJ, Anti doesn’t deserve you being polite around him. You may not remember it, but he tried to attack you when you showed yourself to the fans. He’s evil,” Chase began in his firm “dad voice” to Jameson as Jackieboy glanced uneasily at Marvin.

“Okay, I know he glitches more and more as the holidays get closer, but that was worse than usual,” the magician announced what they were both thinking. “He shouldn’t be like that until…what, two weeks from now?”

“That’s how it was last year, but you know him. He likes to keep us guessing,” Jackieboy mused grimly, moving to sip his coffee and then hesitating when he noticed how Schneep’s cup was shaking between his hands. “Hey…” he murmured, reaching across toward him. “This doesn’t mean—”

“He did not need a holiday to attack me,” Schneep reminded them shakily. “Take me away from you for weeks ’till you find me…It was August. There was no reason, rhyme…What if it’s like that for one of you? Chase, last year—it was nothing for Anti to poison his eggnog, was it? He spent Christmas in hospital!” Looking a bit ill, he peeked down at his coffee and abruptly pushed it away. “And the year before that, he sabotaged my sled…I nearly break my neck, and I’ve heard of the year before, when he tried to strangle Marvin with the tinsel—”

Marvin winced at the memory, instinctively tugging on the knot to his cape, and Jackieboy growled, “That’s not going to happen again. We’re all gonna be safe because we’re gonna protect each other with everything we have.” Schneep didn’t look convinced, so Jackieboy softened his tone, explaining, “That’s the difference between then and now, Henrik: last year, the year before that, the year before that, not all of us were here. Now, I can’t think of a better group. We know what he’s capable of.” He looked around the table, meeting each pair of eyes and concluding emphatically, “Not even Anti is strong enough to take on all of us.”

***

Seeing as all of them had been rather unsettled by Anti’s “holiday cheer”, the next few days were spent on edge and their nights were spent sleeping very lightly. As such, it was no surprise that Jackieboy immediately lunged upright in bed, reeling back a preemptive fist, as staticky strains of “Silent Night” echoed through the halls.

Not so far away, Schneep stared with terrified eyes toward the door of his lab, his late-night reading falling through his fingers to land with a thump on his desk.

Chase, meanwhile, curled tightly into himself and covered his head with his blankets, not quite waking but sensing in his subconscious that something was wrong.

Marvin padded gingerly out of his room, his wand casting the dim hallway in an eerie green glow. Every shadow, any shadow, could very well be Anti, taunting him with a game of hide-and-seek. Who was seeking who? The music, hauntingly slow, continued looping as Marvin crept through the tunnel of darkness just outside the light’s reach. That was when he felt fingers brush the back of his arm. Yelping, he whirled around, already poised with a spell—only to slump in relief when he found the wide-eyed Jameson standing behind him.

“Oh, it’s you! Make some noise when you’re coming, why don’t you?!” he hissed. He knew JJ’s aura would have canceled out any noise the gentleman might have made, but at the moment he was too high-strung to care about semantics. Jameson didn’t object to it either; in fact, he didn’t mince any words, as he might have under any other circumstance. His sepia speech slide was bright in the darkness.

“Marvin, is this Antisepticeye?”

Marvin blinked at the question for a moment or two, startled by it. It was uncanny…He forgot about Jameson sometimes. Not the man himself, of course, but sometimes he forgot that Jameson was new at this. It was only now, with his hands wringing in front of him, moustache twitching nervously, tousled hair hanging in front of his eyes, that Jameson looked his age.

At last, with a sad smile falling onto his face, Marvin sighed, “Don’t you worry, JJ. You’ll learn to sense it. When it comes to things like this, it couldn’t be anyone else.”

Jameson looked as if he was about to reply, but a squeal of static stopped both him and the music. As soon as the last echoes of “Silent Night” faded away, Jameson looked back to Marvin with cautious anticipation.

“It’s stopped…” his slide stated the obvious.

“That doesn’t mean he’s done,” Marvin warned, moving to skirt past him but unprotesting when Jameson spun around and clutched at his arm, keeping pace with him. The pair of them scoured each room of Egos Central again and again until dawn broke, but they found nothing.

***

A few days later, Chase pried his eyes open with a struggle, wanting nothing more than to sleep for another few hours. A promise was a promise, however; he was going to spend this morning helping Marvin decorate. Jackieboy had left to patrol the city in the wee hours, he knew, and they were planning to surprise him with a Christmas message on the top of the roof, one he would instantly see when he flew home.

He would get to show Jameson how it was done, he realized, and that thought made him pick up the pace just that much more. As he flung open his door, however, he stopped up short just before tripping on something that had been left outside his door.

Bewildered, he crouched, picking up the beautiful white poinsettia and examining it from every angle. When he found the small golden card peeking through the leaves, he couldn’t help but wonder if his kids had insisted their mother send him a gift. That was something they would do. The calligraphy printed on the card did say, “With Love from Me to You”.

The signature underneath it was as sloppy as a child’s, but once Chase deciphered the first two letters, he dropped the card and the plant as if they had burned him. Leaping to his feet, he sprinted down the hall and round the corner, only to see Marvin standing motionless outside his door, an identical white poinsettia at his feet.

“Marv,” Chase gasped, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Anti—”

“I know,” Marvin murmured, gesturing to his left with nothing less than revulsion. “Jackie got one too. I wouldn’t be surprised if—” The door to the lab slammed only a moment later and Marvin winced. “That’s what I was afraid of. Chase, check on Jameson; I’ll try and calm Schneep down until Jackieboy can take over. I’ll see if he can come home early; we need him.”

It wasn’t too surprising that they had all received the strange gifts, Chase discovered when Jameson met him halfway between their rooms, thrusting the plant out helplessly for him to examine.

They ended up surprising Jackieboy with quite a different message when he got home, but as much as they poked and prodded and pulled at them, there was nothing special about them as far as they could see. If Anti was giving them, there had to be a reason. What could he gain from this? Was it just to make them paranoid?

“What should we do with them?” Chase asked quietly as Jackieboy paced the length of the kitchen. “I…don’t think he’d appreciate it much if we threw them away.”

“Set them right where you found them,” Jackieboy ordered tersely. “He’s playing some sort of game and if we skip our turn, he’s bound to take it for us.”

Thus decided, they planted their gifts next to their doors and left them there—ignored, but certainly not forgotten. A light coating of dust fell over them and the cards that went with them ended up smudged and sticky on the floor as the Egos walked over them. Four days later, on December 11th, Chase stepped in another sticky substance. It was a dark puddle, one which he recoiled from immediately as he glanced wildly toward his poinsettia.

It was still white in some places, but others were now stained red—dripping red.

Chase bolted, leaving streaked, bloody shoeprints in his wake, but before he could even stretch out his hand to bang on Marvin’s door, he was shocked to find that both his and Jackieboy’s poinsettias were still purely white. When he looked further, toward the lab, Schneep’s was untouched too. Jameson’s was unstained as well.

Why him? Chase wondered frantically as he pommeled Marvin’s door in an effort to wake him. Why him? Why him?

***

Three days later, on December 15th, he was no longer alone. Schneep’s explosion of panicked German could be heard in every part of the house and for once, none of them had to wonder what he was saying.

***

On December 18th, it was Marvin’s turn.

***

December 21st, Jackieboy came unspeakably close to punching a wall when he found the same, and his red boots were stained an even darker red.

***

On Christmas Eve, Jameson was quivering where he sat on the couch between Schneep and Marvin, staring wordlessly at the sullied plant he had set on the coffee table. There was no explanation for it, no taunt, no attack…They had hardly seen Anti at all this month and during whatever fleeting glimpses they had gotten, he had been glitching and fizzing so violently that he was practically intangible.

All they had were bloody plants.

“I…I don’t know what we’re supposed to do about this,” Jackieboy admitted at last, his gritted teeth making it clear that he hated admitting his helplessness. “I can’t pound him into the ground if I don’t know where he is.”

A long silence followed these words, but eventually Chase ventured weakly, “T-Tomorrow’s Christmas. I know this isn’t like other years, but…he’s never hurt us on Christmas. All we can do, at this point, is try to salvage it, right?”

No sooner had he spoken those words did the first notes of “Silent Night” begin to play, very low and muffled, as if they were almost out of earshot. Bare seconds later, the noise faded back out, and the group shared a moment of sheer astonishment.

“Call me crazy,” Marvin breathed, “but I think he might’ve just agreed to that…”

Chase huffed a small laugh and Schneep quietly slid an arm around Jameson, who looked significantly more reassured, ducking his head in relief.

Jackieboy wasn’t about to buy that for a millisecond.

***

Christmas Day passed without incident. Jackieboy did his very best to enjoy it the way the others did; there were a few precious moments when he was able to keep his attention on them, smiling at their reactions to their gifts and accepting their hugs of gratitude, but it wasn’t where his attention ought to be and he knew it. The game wasn’t over. It was never over and they had taken their turn by enjoying their holiday. It was Anti’s move.

One by one, they made it through the stockings…the gifts…the dinner…the cleanup…and, at long last, their goodnights. Each of them wanted nothing more than to stay with the others and hold onto the lingering warmth and joy of Christmas Day, but eventually they all had to sleep.

None of them would, for each returned to his room and froze dead in his tracks when he saw that the stained white poinsettia had vanished—replaced by a big, beautiful red one. Jackieboy clenched his fists so tightly that his palms bled inside his gloves and he lifted his head slowly as his enemy assembled himself across from him.

“It’s al͜mo̡s͞t ͡t͝i͘me,” Anti chuckled, playing with his knife and shifting his weight back and forth. “Are you r̢ea̶dy̸ to rin̢g ̶in t҉h̨e New ͡Y͝ea͘r? I wonder what’s w̶ai̕tn҉g̸ just around t̴h͢e cor̢n͝er…especially for t͜͢h͏a͟t̢ J̛͘a̵m̡͜e̕͠͡ş̡o̴͡n.”

“I wonder,” Jackieboy agreed venomously. “What I do know is that if you come anywhere close to him, I’m going to hunt you down and it won’t matter if you try to glitch your way out. I’m not going to stop until I shove my fist down your throat so far and so fast that I cauterize that nice little slash of yours from the inside.”

Anti laughed again, sounding almost impressed with the threat, and then his form convulsed and dissolved into nothingness. He wasn’t gone; Jackieboy could still hear his static buzzing around the room, circling him, predatory, and the hiss that followed was mocking.

“No, ͟yoų ͝won’t, hero. ͡You'͘re j̧us̵ţ l͝i͘ke ̡th͞e҉m. You'͟l͏l jus̴t ͜wa̷tch̷.͟”

[septic-dr-schneep]

Daily dose of fluff with a hint of angst?

Jameson has a slight fear of the dark, one which has only gotten worse since Anti’s Christmas shenanigans, so at around three in the morning, he takes his fluffiest pillow and his warmest blanket off his bed. He pulls his nightcap low over his forehead, getting his “game face” on, and bolts out of his room down the hallway toward Chase’s. He’s hoping the vlogger will let him sleep on the floor, just so he knows he’s not alone.

Chase isn’t there, much to JJ’s dismay, so he tiptoes out of there and heads to Schneep’s room instead. It’s empty too, which isn’t very surprising, given Schneep’s tendency to work late, but JJ wishes desperately that he could have arrived on one of the off-nights. He skitters over to Marvin’s, trying to stifle his anxiety when he finds the bed empty. By the time he creeps into Jackieboy’s and finds nothing but blankets, he’s about to panic.

Did Anti get them? Is he small and alone, so soon into his life? He can’t bear the thought! He drags his blanket and pillow slowly out of Jackieboy’s room and drops to the floor in the hallway, curling up there and praying Anti doesn’t find him too. He doesn’t.

Robbie does. He’s wandering the halls at night as usual, but here he stops, looking down at the little Jameson bundle with confusion. Why is Ames here? he wonders. He should be with others. So he taps JJ on the head, scaring the crap out of him, and then as soon as he realizes it’s Robbie, the zombie scoops him up like he weighs nothing. Robbie carries him off, protesting and squirming all the way, and takes him to the living room, where JJ is ecstatic to see that all of the others are there, alive and well. They weren’t in their rooms because they stayed up late to watch a movie!

JJ spends the rest of the night sandwiched between Schneep and Marvin on the couch, bundled up in all of their blankets and hugging his pillow while he discovers the delicious wonder that is movie popcorn. 

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So if you have a nick name now do you have headcanons about the Egos' nick names for each other? :D

Mwahahahaha, of course I do! I’m still working on my list for theMarkimoos, so at the moment you’ll only get the Septic Boys, but it’s enoughfor a solid post!

Anti:

All of his nicknames are used scornfully and they need no explanation;they pretty much speak for themselves. He almost never uses their actual names.When he isn’t calling them “Puppets”…

He calls Jackieboy “Hero”

Marvin is “the Charmer” or “Cheapskate”

Schneep is called “Doctor”, “Faint Heart”, or “Daddy’s Little Helper”

He calls Chase “the Weakling” or “Boy”

Robbie is “Braindead”, “Dead Meat”, and “Pushover”

Jameson is “Muzzle-Mouth”, “Yapper”, “Sepia” or “Shabby”

Jackieboy:

Aside from using Anti’s name, he calls him “the Glitch”, “Freak”, and—whenhe’s feeling a little less antagonistic—his “blood brother”

When Marvin didn’t have a name, Jackieboy called him “Magic Man”, “SpeedStreak”, “Flicker”, “Mister Magic Master”, “Cat in the Hat”, or simply “the Magician.”Now he just calls him Marv or Marvin

He’s only called the doc “Schneep” once or twice; he didn’t feel like itsuited him. He’s the only one who can call him Henrik without making him feeluncomfortable, so that’s what he uses most

He’ll call Chase by his name, but if he’s teasing him, he’ll call him“Little Brody”, “Slugger”, or “my favorite sidekick” and it usually comes witha complimentary hair-ruffle

He’s always calling Robbie “Stripes” or “Rob the Zomb”, but wheneverRobbie is feeling down about something, he’ll call him “Robert” and it makeshim feel important

While he doesn’t use nicknames for Jameson very often, he doesoccasionally use the names that Chase has given him if he wants to get Jameson’sattention in a hurry (see Chase below)

Marvin:

He usually refuses to call Anti by his name; his favorite term for him is“Defect,” which Anti despises even more than being called a “Glitch”. Marvinknows this and uses it constantly

He always calls Jackieboy by his name or by “Jackie” if he wants to gethis attention in a serious situation

Schneep is and always will be called just that. When he’s particularlyworried about him, however, he’ll call him Henrik (against his wishes) or “YouIdiot”

Chase also receives “You Idiot” when Marvin’s worried about him, but mostof the time he calls him by his name or by “CB”

Robbie is “Robert”, “Bub”, or “Bertie”, but he knows it’s hard for Robbieto remember all of his nicknames, so he usually just uses his name

He calls Jameson “JJ” or “James”. He only uses Jameson’s full name inserious situations or sometimes he’ll use “Jacks” or “Jackson” if he’s angrywith him

Schneep:

Anti is always, always called either “the Glitch”, “Misfire”, “the Monster”,or “the Demon”

Just as Jackieboy calls him Henrik, Schneep drops the “boy” and calls himJackie. Occasionally he’ll call him “Hero”, but he says it with a lot morerespect than Anti does

He’ll call Marvin by his name most of the time but if he’s talkingquickly, he’ll use “Marv” or “Mage”. Sometimes he’ll formally use “theMagnificent”, if he’s talking about him with someone else

For Chase he uses “Buddy” or his full name, “Chase Brody”, the most. Ifhe’s angry with him, he’ll call him “the tiny little Chase brain”, which isbasically his version of “Idiot”

He often condenses Robbie’s full name into “Zobbie”, which Robbie loves,but otherwise he’ll call him “Hobs”, “Bertie”, or “Softy”

Jameson is usually “JJ” or “Jamie”, but if he’s feeling particularlyaffectionate with him, he’ll call him “the little one”

Chase:

He’ll use Anti’s normal name because he’s afraid of him, but he alsoadopted “Defect” from Marvin, which he uses when he thinks Anti might not belistening. The rest of the time, Anti is simply “Him”

Jackieboy usually gets his regular name, but if the two of them arebantering Chase will call him “Bigshot”, “Fancy Feet”, “Flyboy”, or “Pajama-boyMan” to make fun of him

Marvin is constantly called “Marv” or “The Caped Crusader”, the second ofwhich he hates more than he can possibly say, but Chase uses it anyway

Schneep is “Bro”, “Doc”, “Pepto” or—if he’s trying to argue with him—“theStup”

Robbie is “Robs”, “Ro”, “Bertie”, “BB”, or “B-Boy”, but he acts as ifthey’re a secret and calls him by his normal name when the others are around,which naturally confuses Robbie to no end

Chase never uses Jameson’s full name, even when the others are present;instead, he’s constantly getting called “JJ”, “Jem”, “J2”, or “Jays”

Robbie:

Anti is “An”, “Ti”, or “Ati”. Sometimes he’ll call him “Itch”, meaning “Glitch”,simply because he’s heard the others say it so often

Jackieboy is either “Kie” or “Jacks”, and Jackieboy is rather proud of thelatter, given that it’s the same name Robbie uses for their creator

Marvin gets the most in the group: “Mar”, “Marm”, “Vin,” “Mags”, or even “Maim”!The last one naturally freaked the others out at first but eventually they gotused to it

Schneep gets as many rhyming variations as Robbie can think of: “Sheep”, “Neep”,and “Cheep” are the ones that have made the doc laugh the hardest, so Robbieuses them constantly

Like Marvin, he’ll call Chase “CB” from time to time, but his usualnickname for him is “Ace” and Chase loves it to pieces

Jameson is always either “JJ” or “Ames”

Jameson:

He doesn’t call any of them by nicknames, at least not yet. He tends tothink nicknames are impolite, so he’ll use their complete names every time hementions or addresses them—for example, he doesn’t even use the name “Anti”. Hetakes the time to say “Antisepticeye.” Other than that, he’ll call each of them “goodsir”, “ol’ chap”, or “my fine fellow”, but I’m sure he’ll learn very quicklythat he can’t escape from nicknames and he’ll adapt to them.

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Sad HC: Anti falls asleep holding an old, matted and worn out toy. It's a traditional teddy bear, it's sewing coming undone, it's colors faded, and it's ears and eyes falling off. Anti curls around it because it's the only thing his 'parents' gave him. He's really possessive over it, not wanting anyone to destroy the poor toy. One day, Marvin finds it and causes Anti to lash out, nearly killing him. When the others yelled at Anti, he didn't care he protected what was his, that's all that matters

Oh, boy…

Anti snapping and snarling at the others, pressed back against the wall like a threatened animal, watching as all of them stand against him, taking Marvin’s side. After several tense seconds, the Glitch puts on a mocking front, as always, as he stares them all down.

“W̢ha̷t ̨ca͡n I ̨şay? T͢he ̛little ̡c͢h͟ąrme̡r ́s̸h̛ou̴ld'͞ve̢ ͜w̨a̕tch̴ed ͟h̨is̶ sţep!”

Jackieboy’s eyes burn with barely suppressed anger at the words and Chase lunges forward a step, only for Schneep to grab his arm and hold him back. Jameson clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides and his face is dark. Anti’s never seen him angry until now – and it’s for this? How dare he get angry now, as if it was righteous?

“Ìt̀ ̕was ̵min̷e͡!̛” Anti hisses at last, glitching and frizting as he shifts, stepping in front of his property, which lay on the floor with its fluffy innards scattered around it. Somewhere in his fight with Marvin, his toy…his Little Puppet…had become a casualty. Its head is across the room and deep in his chest, Anti aches when he sees it.

He can’t let it show. He isn’t that weak. 

“D̕o ̵yo͟u͏ rea̡l͘l͞y͜ ̧w͜a̵n̡t͏ ͜t͏o͏ ̴tes̡t̷ ̸me ov̵ęr͏ s͜om҉e͡t͞hi͏n҉g ̵so̵ ̡chi͜ldish̸?” he asks Jackieboy at last, sneering, the blue in his eyes swallowed in blackness.

“I’m not the child here,” Jackieboy growls back, dragging the others away…retreating, at least for now. Anti waits until they’re out of sight, ignoring the last death stare from the superhero, and then moves carefully toward his bear’s head. He picks it up and holds it in both hands, examining it.

“Ch̛iļd͡is̵ḩ,” he repeats to himself bitterly, wishing he didn’t feel like such a fool.

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“Jackieboy, is there anything you can’t do?” Chase asked in wonder, peering over the older Ego’s shoulder as he whisked egg yolks and hot milk in a large bowl. Jackieboy grinned, nearly elbowing Chase as he turned around and swept the bowl out proudly.

“Chase, you know that superheroes can’t reveal the limits of their powers!” he scolded good-naturedly before twirling back toward the counter, purposely blocking Chase’s view as he added a few other ingredients. Schneep cut off Chase’s complaints as he strode into the kitchen, juggling dozens of candy canes.

“Jackie’s eggnog is always -- mwah! No one can resist!” he exclaimed, miming a kiss as best he could with his hands full. “But he always forget the peppermint sticks for the glasses!”

“Sooner or later, we’re gonna convince you to actually call them ‘candy canes,’” Marvin warned, to which Schneep shook his head violently.

“They are peppermint, they are stick, they are peppermint sticks! Dr. Schneeple does not need cane!”

“Finished!” Jackieboy announced cheerfully, slopping his eggnog into several ready glasses and then adding the finishing touches on each: a dash of whiskey for Chase, a shot of espresso for Schneep, some butterscotch syrup for Marvin, whipped cream for Robbie, and a spoonful of nutella for Jameson, topping all of the above with nutmeg and a candy cane...peppermint stick. The rest he poured into some extra glasses in case someone wanted seconds; he wasn’t about to have them fighting over the last of his coveted brew on such a nice night!

Unfortunately, a fight started to look like a very real possibility when Jameson rose for his second glass and found nothing but a wet candy cane in its place. Spinning around on his heel, he doubled his fists at his sides, his speech slides taking over the nearby TV screen: “As I live and breathe! The nerve! Which one of you greedy guts has stolen my second drink?!”

All of them glanced around wildly, finding no sign of the culprit, and Jameson moved briskly to stand in front of them, planting his hands on his hips. “You rascals! If you’re playing some kind of joke on me because this is my first holiday season with you --” His slide froze suddenly as he looked over their heads, toward the back of the room, and his mouth fell open. The words on the slide filtered away into nothing, replaced by just one:

“...Anti?”

Day 11 of the 25 Days of Ego Christmas: Eggnog. Not even Anti can resist Jackieboy’s eggnog, and seeing as he likes gettin’ messy with things...he’s not the best of houseguests! I was giggling the whole time I was drawing this; I think it’s my favorite of all the Ego Christmas pics so far! XD

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Random Egos Dancing Headcanons

Here I come with another round of headcanooooons! This time, it’s how the Egos dance! 

Septic Boys

Jackieboy: He loves, loves, loves disco dance and dominates the dance floor with it, staying out the entire night, no matter who’s with him. As much as he tries to encourage others to do the disco with him, more often than not the other Egos can’t keep up unless he’s constantly helping them, which isn’t as much fun. Whenever he needs to catch his breath, he’ll just fly up to have a bird’s eye view and cheer the others on.

Marvin: He’s a cloth dancer! Whatever dance he’s doing, he’ll always add twists and turns, graceful spins, and sweeping gestures with his cape. He’s not particularly fast, so if a dance has a faster tempo than he likes, he’ll levitate slightly so he doesn’t have to feel the pressure of keeping up on the floor. At that point, he usually takes the show with his take on aerial silk dancing and says hi to Jackieboy if they happen to be up there at the same time XD

Schneep: He hasn’t danced as much as the others and is always way too nervous to try unless the others physically drag him out onto the floor and stare him down until he performs. He’s the best at swing dance, which was the first dance he was taught, but usually doesn’t have a partner to do it with unless one of the others volunteers, so his default is tap dancing and once he really gets into it, he has the time of his life.

Chase: Show him any hip-hop dance and he’ll have it memorized by the end of the night. He loves any kind of dance that’s boisterous and over the top and he loves demonstrating it for those who are still learning (like Schneep). Sometimes his moves will get confusing because he’ll smash different kinds of dance together into his own unique style. Needless to say, no one except Jackieboy can match his speed and sometimes, just for fun, they’ll have a little dance battle!

Jameson: He stays the closest to their Irish roots and can usually be found cheerfully jigging along as he admires (or laughs at) all of the others. He also loves the concept of group party dances and always coerces the others into doing them with him, even if it’s a song they’ve heard a thousand times. Sometimes, to make the moment last longer, he’ll put the song on repeat without them noticing.

Robbie: He just kind of sways along to the gentler songs…He learned the hard way that he can’t join in the more energetic dances, given how easy it is for his limbs to fly off, but sometimes Chase or Jameson will teach him how to tap his feet to the beat so he can feel more included.

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Random Egos Christmas Headcanons

Hey! If any of you are feeling down at the moment, imagine the Egos getting ready for Christmas:

Imagine Dr.  Iplier goes shopping at one of the malls near Egos Incorporated, with Wilford insisting that he go along. When they meet up by the checkout line, Wilford’s tracked down every ugly, garish, uncomfortable Christmas sweater in the store and he begs/whines/threatens the doctor until he buys every single one. Imagine Wilford bursting out of his room every morning with a new sweater on, showing it off to everyone else whenever they make the mistake of glancing his way, and then snuggling up in the pile to keep himself warm at night.

Imagine Marvin spending hours in the kitchen, blasting Christmas music and singing at the top of his lungs while he bakes more cookies than they know what to do with. Imagine Robbie sort of humming/groaning along to the music as he sits at the table and tries to decorate the cookies. When he has trouble keeping the icing neat, Jameson cheerfully steps in, setting his hat on Robbie’s head and rolling his sleeves up to help him.

Imagine Bim and Yandere huddled by the frosty window in jackets, gloves, slippers and blankets, taking turns reading Christmas books and teasing or giggling at each other when their gloves make it hard for them to turn pages. Imagine them eventually getting too cold and trying to awkwardly move to the couch, tripping over all of their blankets and dropping their books and eventually just rolling around laughing on the floor, with the other Egos shaking their heads across the room.

Imagine Chase vlogging on his Bro Average channel again, with a challenge of how many candy canes he can eat in five minutes. He gets close to the camera when he’s finished, staring back at the viewer with warm, bright eyes and a sweet little half-smile while he wishes them a Merry Christmas with their families. Imagine that after he turns the camera off, he takes the rest of the candy canes and spends his evening on the street, handing them out to anyone who looks like they’re traveling alone.

Imagine Dark and the Host taking walks in the evenings, when the other Egos think it’s way too cold to be outside. They walk shoulder to shoulder, in long black coats and scarves that gradually become white with the snow, while they talk about how excited the others are getting for the season. Imagine them stopping in front of the light display on someone’s house or store and the Host quietly asks Dark to describe it all to him. Imagine Dark lying to him, making it sound much grander and prettier than it actually is, so the Host will smile as he pictures it.

Imagine Schneep gathering as many versions of “A Christmas Carol” as he can find, filling a big bowl with peppermints and commandeering the couch so he can watch them all back to back. One by one, the others pop in and curl up with him, mixing their own favorite candies into the peppermints until they’re spilling all over the coffee table. Imagine Schneep always cheering and jumping up and down and scattering candy wrappers whenever he sees that Tiny Tim survives this version of the movie too!

Imagine the King of the Squirrels staying outside all day, hanging tinsel from his favorite trees just outside the grounds and then settling down at the base of one, sipping hot chocolate and completely ignoring the cold. Imagine Silver Shepherd and Ed Edgar tromping out to fetch him and then joining him instead, staring up at the tinsel as the moonlight makes it glow through the branches. Imagine them reminiscing about how beautiful it looked last year and how it looks even brighter this year.

Imagine Jackieboy being an emotional “big brother” and ambushing the others with a group hug, tracking each of them down and dragging them into the huddle while he tells them how grateful he is to have them safe and sound for the holidays. Imagine him looking up and locking eyes with Anti, who’s standing just outside the door, and Jackieboy mouths, “Even you.” Imagine Anti staring back for a few seconds, his black eyes shifting to blue before he disappears.

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8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

12 And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

Day 15 of the 25 Days of Ego Christmas: Christmas Movies <3 I figured since I already pictured Jameson with the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, I should finish it up with the most important message of the movie!

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imagine Jameson and Chase hanging out together making videos for Chase's channel!

YES

Their first collaboration on the Bro Average channel is a New Years celebration and an introduction to JJ for anyone who hasn’t seen him yet. There’s a good amount of alcohol involved and the Average Bros will hence forth remember Jameson as the one who, in a shocking twist, drinks their Challenge Champion under the table!

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Really, Anti, you found the time to get a suit jacket and to steal Dapper’s hat but not to change your jeans? For shame! XD 

Anyway, a very happy Thanksgiving to @therealjacksepticeye and the rest of the community! <3 I’m thankful for all of you!

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“All it needs is a little love!”

Day Five of the 25 Days of Ego Christmas: Christmas Tree! Of all Egos to find a little tree, Jameson is most likely to save it! He’s such a sweetie <3

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Anyone want to send me headcanon asks?

I desperately need a distraction right now and I’d love to just talk about headcanons for the boys. Just send me whatever ask you want to about any Ego and I’ll answer it. It’d mean a lot to me ;w;