#jamesone jackson

[septicwriters]

Kill JSE: *Happens*

The I.R.I.S. employee watching the cameras who doesn't even have clearance to know who A.L.T.R. 114209 even is: ..."um....."

Their boss, getting ready to Men in Black them: "What?"

[senseless-septic-shambles]

Fallen from Glory - Return Home

JJ couldn’t sleep. He sat, curled on his bed, hugging his pillow close and crying softly. Henrik had gone out to look for Jackie, to look for answers, but JJ had been told to stay at home. For protection. Like he needed protection while his brother was out there, was alone, was maybe controlled by something.

Because he refused to believe that Jackie had actually done that. He refused to believe that Jackie had actually killed all those people. He refused to believe that Jackie would ever do something like that. It was just a misunderstanding - that was all.

That was all.

Despite telling himself over and over that Jackie wouldn’t do that, Jackie would never hurt anyone, Jackie would never, he still couldn’t sleep. His mind kept playing the scene he had seen over and over - Jackie holding the gun to the woman’s head. Jackie, flinging Sam across the room. Jackie - pulling the trigger.

Every time he closed his eyes he could only see his brother’s cold face, could only hear the gunshot echoing through his mind. Jackie would never.

A noise caught his attention and his eyes snapped open. He quieted his breath, listening hard. Footsteps - a pause - the door to Henrik’s laboratory creaking open. Someone was in the house.

Slowly, JJ wiped a hand over his eyes and shifted, slipping off the bed and snatching his cane from beside the bed. Leaning on it he limped slowly towards his door, pushing it open silently.

The door to the laboratory was open, light spilling out into the hall. JJ slowly made his way towards it, his breath low and quick. Was it a thief? Someone trying to steal all of Henrik’s hard work? He would show them.

He made it to the room, carefully peering around the door and pushing it open. A figure was crouched under a desk, a pile of spare parts beside him, digging into Henrik’s medical supplies. JJ stepped forward, holding his breath, and carefully pulled the blade from his cane, holding the sheath in one hand and pressing the tip of the sword to the back of the intruder, letting him know he was there.

The other man froze, slowly raising one of his hands- scarred and covered in dry blood. JJ swallowed tightly, past the lump of fear in his throat.

“JJ?” he said and JJ let out a small breath of air, stepping back with his eyes wide as he lowered his blade. It was Jackie.

He turned, his hand still raised, the other not in its sleeve, hidden under the hoodie he was wearing, and slowly stood. Clearly, he had already raided his own wardrobe, wearing a red hoodie and jeans, clean and fresh - a stark contrast to the rest of him. His hair was matted and dirty, his face covered in small scrapes and cuts and blood. His eyes were bloodshot - he looked like he had been crying.

“Jackie?” JJ signed, dropping both sword and cane in his haste to talk to Jackie. His brother nodded, lowering his arm. He winched, closing his eyes and leaning back against the desk behind him. “What happened?” JJ asked once he had opened his eyes again. “Long story. Look, J, I - I can’t stay. I have to go, alright.”

JJ shook his head, glaring at him slightly.

“No, you need to come back and tell them that… that what I saw wasn’t you. You need to tell them what actually happened. Henrik’s out there looking for you.” He blinked back tears, wiping them away angrily before continuing. “Why do you have to run? You didn’t do anything wrong. That wasn’t you.”

Jackie let out a long sigh, looking so tired, so sad, so… so guilty that JJ hesitated. Why was his brother acting so strangely? Was he still being controlled?

“J… Jamie… I…” Jackie shook his head, letting out a long breath. “I can’t. I don’t know what’s happening, and until I do…” His voice caught briefly and he looked away, not meeting JJ’s eyes. “I’m dangerous, J. I don’t know… I need to figure this out, I need to fix whatever’s gone wrong.”

JJ shook his head, eyes blazing. Jackie wasn’t going to run. Jackie wasn’t going to abandon them. Jackie wasn’t going to do this on his own.

He marched forward as best he could without his cane, grabbing Jackie’s arm and forcing the superhero to look at him.

“You’re not leaving,” he said shortly. “We’re your brothers, Jackie. Let us help you - at least let Henrik look at your wounds before you leave.”

“No - no, it’s better if I don’t see him. It’ll make this harder. I wish I could have snuck in and out before you found me.” He gave a small grin, clearly a forced one. JJ scowled.

“What happened up there?” he asked. “You didn’t do that, right?”

Jackie was silent for a long time, sending a twisting snake of doubt sliding through JJ’s chest. Jackie hadn’t done that. He would have had a reason. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him.

“Yeah. I….” Jackie’s voice caught and he looked away, burying his face in his hand. “That was me,” he said, his voice muffled. “I did it. I killed… I shot…” He fell silent, his voice too full of emotion to say anymore. JJ didn’t say anything - Jackie wouldn't have seen him even if he had.

He stepped forward, laying a hand on Jackie’s shoulder. Jackie started, lifting his head, silent tears filling his eyes.

“Why?” JJ asked, signing with one hand and squeezing Jackie’s shoulder with the other. If what he had seen on the news had actually happened, Jackie would have had a reason for doing it.

“I...I felt so… I mean I… I don’t know… it was like… there was a voice… I don’t…” Jackie fell silent, shaking his head slightly.

“A voice?” JJ asked, stepping back slightly. Jackie nodded, waving his hand around his head.

“It… it spoke my dark thoughts,” he muttered. “And then… I can’t risk it happening again, J. I can’t risk it happening to someone I love.”

“Let us help you figure it out!” JJ said frantically. “Henrik will know what to do - Henrik will  be able to help you.”

Jackie shook his head, a sudden hardness coming into his eyes. “No, Jameson,” he said quietly, and JJ took a step back. He had never heard Jackie direct that voice towards him. That voice was used for villains, for those he fought. Not his brother.

“Jack-” he began to sign, but Jackie stepped forward, grabbing a handful of bandages off the floor and shoving past JJ. He stumbled back, taken by surprise. His bung leg suddenly couldn’t support him and he stumbled to the ground, landing heavily and knocking the air out of his lungs.

Struggling to regain his breath, he reached blindly for his cane and used it to support himself. Jackie had already left the room, snatching a backpack from beside the door as he did. Moving as quickly as he could, JJ followed him, just in time to see him standing in the doorway. He looked back, a mixture of guilt and sadness and hurt covering his face.

JJ opened his mouth, wishing he could shout after his brother, wishing he had the words to tell him to stay. But no words came out, only a long, rasping breath and tears from his eyes.

Then Jackie was gone and JJ was left on his own.

[septicwriters]

What I think your favorite ego says about you!

Dark: You are one of two things: you are cool, calm, and collective or, batshit wild. Regardless of which, when you snap, YOU SNAP. Whoever pissed you off better pray to the old gods because the new one ain't picking up his phone. You either seem like you have your shit together, or you really do. There is no in-between.

Anti: Relax? Who is she? Who are eccentric from the start. You are quiet at first, making people think you are shy and just have to warm up to them, when in reality, you are biding your time. Watching your surroundings to see how everyone ticks, and then you strike. Violence is not always your attack, you can also deal out verbal attacks as well. Your RBF is on point.

Wilford: You are that person who is cheerful to hide your trauma. Sorry, but we can still see it. You can't hide a body behind a glass wall. You will smile and give homemade treats and remember everyone's birthday, but everyone once in a while, you will say something to cause everyone's concern to go to an 11. High ADHD levels.

Jackie: You are that one person that is motivated beyond belief. You will wear yourself out with over positivity and helping others and then break down in a public restroom. Crying from stress is a call for attention, even in an empty room (false, cry if you need too) can't drink coffee because it sends your hyperness through the roof and gives you a headache.

Damien: You are the mom friend of the group, you either have snack pouches and juice, or a way to reprimand your friends. You are shy around confrontation, but always quick to come up with a solution to a problem. You wouldn't share homework answered, but would help with the homework. You are the designated driver.

Chase: things you cry at: cat videos, cute kid videos, slice of life anime, cute finales of comedies. You have some sort of an addiction. Coffee, alcohol, cleanliness, art, your hobby, collecting hobbies. Something to keep your hand busy is always needed, helps tame the voices. Your therapist friend begs you to go to therapy, but who can afford it? Definitely not you, and besides, you aren't even that serious. Thinking about death is normal, right? Right?!

Celine: you are the wine aunt. Weather that is literal or towards your friends, that is your title and you where it with pride. Might be some sort of witch. You can become serious quickly, you go from go lucky to problem solver 1-100 real fast. You are always available, even if you're not happy about it. You listen to problems and come up with half good answers. Sorry to say, but arson is not always the answer.

Schneep: you are the therapist friend, and you need a therapist. Carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Must have perfect grades, perfect attendance, perfect ingernal. Coffee is not breakfast, nor is it good to drink at 3 in the afternoon. Eat some real food, please, granola bars are not going to get you through the day.

Actor: in some way, shape, or form, you are a profectionist. People may get upset about the way things must line up, if your drink is one inch higher than expected, everything is ruined. Everything must be perfect, or it's terrible. You either love art, or an artist yourself who hates your art. When someone tells you you are a profectionist, you lash out in anger. Take a nap, might do you good.

JJ: silent but deadly. Words are very rarely exchanged with those outside your friend group. When someone asks you what you are reading, you lift up your book to show the title and continue to read. You made your own lunches at school. If someone crosses you, you will be passive aggressive about it. Dresses formal for every occasion.

Google: you have anger issues, eldest sibling , reliable one? When someone needs advice, you are the first to go to. You regularly go to those warehouses to destroy things. You don't work well with others, prefer to work alone than In a group. Effortlessly get A's on tests.

Marvin: you are either gay, or the gayest straight person. If there's no glitter, you don't want it. You're temper is fiery, but your significant other wouldn't have you any other way. You have enemies, and your friends are worried about that. You have either mental or physical scars and are self conscious about them. Your scars tell your story, don't be embarrassed. You live in the library and write papers that aren't necessary.

Bing: your favorite Ninja turtle was Mikey. Love Bill and Ted. The life of the party, always trying to be the cool guy. You fail at it, but you don't let that slow you down. You once tried to do something reckless, failed, and said that you'll practice until you do it. You succeed. You do anything you put your mind to. Useless facts, no, no one knew that otters hold hands while sleeping to not drift away, but thank you for sharing. Orange crush is your favorite drink.

Tell me how accurate I am!

[septicwriters]

Admit it, this is what we want from the multiple universe clashing together.

[senseless-septic-shambles]

“Where am I?” with JJ? Or Chase??

Everything was foggy. JJ blinked, trying to clear his head as he pushed himself up. With a sudden start, he realised his hands were handcuffed together, and the surface he was lying on was not his comfortable bed. 

Groggily, he tried to remember what had happened, vague memories of a group of thugs attacking him coming back to him. He shot upright at that memory, eyes darting around the sparse room. Two men turned to look at him and he shifted back, pushing himself against the wall of the small room he found himself in. 

“Wh-where am I, good sir?” he asked hesitantly. One of them grinned, a smile that didn’t inspire much confidence. 

“Right where you need ta be, kid,” he said. 

“What do you want with me? I have no money, what else could you need from me?” 

“Oh buddy, it’s not you we want - it’s your friend. That superhero. You’re just bait.” 

[senseless-septic-shambles]

Marvin and JJ, anxiety/panic?

 “I - I - I’m going to mess it all up,” Marvin said, his breath coming in quick gasps. JJ crouched down beside him, gently laying a hand on his shoulder, his eyes soft. Marvin looked up at his touch. 

“You will do splendidly,” JJ said, gripping his shoulder. Marvin shook his head, muttering under his breath. 

“No, no I’m going to mess up. What if someone gets hurt? What if I do it wrong? What if -” He was cut off as JJ pulled him into a close hug, rubbing his older brother’s back and feeling him begin to relax. Eventually, Marvin pulled away, some of the panic in his eyes gone. 

“You have practised this trick many times. I’m sure you will do it wonderfully - I believe in you.” JJ said once Marvin could see his speech slides. Marvin let out a long, shaky breath, but nodded. 

“Y-yeah. Thanks, Jays. I… Thank you.” He stood, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his cloak. “I got this,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

“Good luck!” JJ called as Marvin fixed his costume, taking another deep breath and stepped onto the stage.