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mayor-damien-protection-squad · 7 years ago

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The Cracked Mirror

Another fic by yours truly! This time with the District Attorney, Dark, and Jameson (AKA the Dapper Boi)

~Mod Carbz

Summary: There was a cracked mirror in Ego HQ. No one bothered to question it until one day they did.

Warnings: Slight Panic Attack, WKM Spoilers

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12738645

Full story under the cut!

There was a cracked mirror in Ego HQ.

If you asked any of the older egos where it came from, they’d just shrug and say that it had always been there. Not that anyone ever bothered to question it. There were a lot of things that seemed out of place in the headquarters that no one even looked twice at, why would a mirror be the one thing that’d draw questions?

The only person who seemed to have any interest in the mirror was Dark, or, very rarely, Wilford.

That is until the Jacksepticeye Egos came over to the HQ, not knowing the unsaid rule about not questioning the oddities that resided in the house.

“Why is there a room dedicated entirely to knives?” Jackieboy Man asked as they were led around the house towards the meeting room, confused by the seemingly random assortment of objects in random rooms that they passed. The headquarters seemed to stretch on forever, and each glimpse into a different room was odder than the last.

Anti seemed to perk up in the back of the touring group when Jackie mentioned knives, but was quickly shut down as Dark cut him off.

“Don’t touch those. They are Wilford’s. If you even smudge one of them, it’s new home will be in your stomach.”

“Okay, but why is there a room filled with bubbles?” Marvin spoke up from the middle of the group. “How the hell have they not all popped yet, either?”

Dark groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Again, Wilford.”

“Okay, but vhat-” Schneep started.

“If you continue to ask about every single room we pass, we will never get to the meeting room,” Dark ground out, his shell twitching just slightly. Everyone shut up, the unspoken threat underlying his words clear.

They eventually made it to the meeting room without any other glaring interruptions. Although, the meeting didn’t fare much better in the ‘interruptions’ front than the first half of the walk… that is to say, nothing got done in the meeting, as usually. Why the egos thought it might go better with another set of insufferable assholes joining in is was anybody’s guess.

In the end, everyone ended up just crashing in the living room, doing their own things. Some were talking casually with each other like Dr. Iplier and Dr. Schneep and Silver Shepard and Jackieboy man, some were just doing their own things, uninterested- or unable to in Jameson’s case- in talking to anyone after the disaster that was the meeting.

“Why is this a mirror here?” Anti asked, staring intently at said object.

The Mark egos looked up from where they were milling about, confused. They looked at the mirror like they hadn’t even noticed it was there before, which was actually probably pretty close to the truth.

“What do you mean?” Bim asked.

“I mean why do you have a broken mirror in your main room? Was I not clear enough?” Anti glitched slightly in annoyance.

“It’s just a mirror. Nothing odd about it,” he replied.

“Anti’s right, as odd as it is to say that… What’s the use of a mirror that’s broken? Why not just chuck it?” Jackie asked.

“Oh pish posh, that mirror’s not broken!” Wilford burst into the conversation, startling Dark, who before had been frozen as soon as Anti mentioned the mirror.

Wilford stood up quickly, walking over to the mirror and waving to it. “Come on out, old friend.”

Everyone stared, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. Jack’s egos looked around, confused, while Mark’s egos just shrugged it off, knowing the off the wall things that Wilford sometimes said. They had long ago learned to just tune him out.

“Will.” Dark put a hand on Wilford’s shoulder. “It’s-” Dark was cut off.

Everyone’s attention was draw back to the mirror as it let out a sound similar to the sound of glass shattering, although no more cracks appeared. Instead, it seemed to shimmer, the light refracting off the individual shards, eventually coalescing into the image of a person. There was no way to describe exactly how they looked, and if asked later no one would be able to perfectly recollect what exactly they looked like, or even get close to it.

Everyone froze, unsure what to do. Even Dark was shocked, shell cracking around the edges. He quickly composed himself, though, walking over to the mirror.

“Why are you out?” His voice was cold, although there was a hint of… something there. Something undefinable.

The person in the mirror responded with a series of hand movements. Jameson perked up from where he was sitting in the back of the room.

Dark responded with different movements of his hands. No one seemed to know what they were saying, except Wilford and Jameson. They went back and forth a few times, before finally the mirror person threw up their hands, and their image shimmered out of view.

Dark turned around, straightening his jacket with a sigh and levelling all the egos with a glare. They all stood in shock.

“…Why is there someone trapped in a mirror?” Jackie asked after getting up the courage to break the shocked silence.

“That is none of your business.” Dark’s shell cracked, seams splitting apart slightly. “It doesn’t matter. Just go back to whatever you were doing and forget about this. And don’t touch the mirror.” The threat was plain in his words. No one moved as he stormed out, still managing to look composed even as he was twitching under the weight of his shell, the blue echo that surrounded him shining brightly, overtaking the red.

Everyone slowly returned to their previous conversations, all stealing glances at the mirror whenever they could, although no one had the gall to actually try anything. Slowly everyone’s mind went elsewhere and the mirror was forgotten under the hecticness that was having two opposing forces of egos in one room together.

It was like the mirror just kind of… disappeared from everyone’s mind, blending into the background as everyone’s mind was drawn away from it, never to go back to it.

The only person who didn’t forget was Jameson, who continued staring at the mirror, having no one to distract him. Despite the danger, he was just… drawn to it. He needed to find out more when no one was around to stop him.

—-

It was late at night when Jameson returned to the foyer. The house was quiet, everyone either asleep or somewhere else. Obviously the dapper ego wouldn’t be disrupting that silence- he couldn’t even if he wanted to. He was just cursed with never ending silence. Even his footsteps on the squeaky floorboards of the headquarters didn’t make a single sound.

Jameson stopped in front of the cracked and broken mirror that held everyone’s attention earlier in the day, examining it carefully. He tapped lightly on the edge of it, trying to provoke some sort of reaction. Evidently it worked, as the person who resided in the mirror shimmered forth, catching the dapper ego by surprise. He took a few steps back, and then a few steps forward to get a closer look at the mystery person. He signed a quick ‘hello’.

“Hello,” the mirror person signed back.

“Who are you? You seem… familiar?”

“I have many names. You may call me whatever you see fit.” They paused. “I am the person that lives in this mirror.”

“Why are you in a mirror? Surely that’s boring!”

“My name’s not Shirley,” the mirror person signed cheekily, a small smile curling across their lips. It didn’t even work in sign language, but Jameson still laughed silently.

“I thought you said I could call you whatever, Shirley.” Jameson smiled.

“That I did.”

“You never did answer me… Why are you in a mirror? And why is Dark the only one who knows about you?”

Shirley’s form darkened as they looked down. “I was trapped here.”

Shock played across Jameson’s face. “What? Then we need to get you out of there!”

They shook their head. “This is the only place I can survive. I don’t have a body to call my own anymore.”

“How could you lose your body? It’s literally attached to you!”

“It’s not lost. It was taken from me. Although… I did give it up, I guess. It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s dead, and I’d be dead if I wasn’t here. This mirror is the only thing keeping me alive.”

Jameson hesitantly put a hand to the cracks in the mirror, tracing them gingerly. He made sure not to cut himself on the sharp edges, knowing what happened the last time he drew blood. There was no chance he was risking that again.

“Does it hurt?” He signed slowly.

Shirley shook their head. “Not anymore. It did, a long time ago… Although maybe that was the pain of betrayal. It’s hard to tell the difference, especially when you’re stuck on your own for countless years with nothing to do but relive everything that got you to that point.”

Jameson didn’t respond, unsure what to say to that. They both stayed quiet for a few minutes before finally Shirley brought up their hands, signing, “You should probably go to sleep and just forget about me. I’m fine.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to forget about you. Then who would you talk to? Dark? I highly doubt he’s a great conversationalist.”

Shirley smiled, shaking their head in amusement. “You’d be surprised.”

“Even if, I’m still not going to leave you. You have to be lonely. No one here even seemed to know you existed…”

“It’s better that way. I only bring up bad memories.”

“Well I don’t know anything about you, so you can’t bring up any bad memories for me! You won’t talk me out of this, Shirley. I’m sticking with you whether you want me to or not.”

Shirley chuckled silently. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I’m kind of stationary, and you don’t live here.”

“Well…” Jameson rubbed his chin in thought. “I can take you with me!”

They stared at him blankly, an eyebrow raised. “You’re not going to sneak a gigantic mirror out of a giant building guarded by a being fueled by rage and revenge. Besides, I’m not leaving my friends here behind.”

He scratched his chin. “You’re right. I didn’t exactly think that through…” He stared intently, before bringing his pointer finger up quickly with a silent snap. “I got it!” He quickly placed his hands on the mirror, extracting a small piece of the cracked glass from it, careful with the edges. Shirley appeared on the shard, staring back at him.

“There! Now you can be in both places at once.” He signed, then blushed as he realized that the person in the shard couldn’t really see what he was saying when he was waving them around to say it.

Shirley appeared back in the main mirror, laughing deeply. There was no sound, but if there was, it would be a loud belly laugh, completely full of life and joy.

“Sorry.” Jameson rubbed the back of his neck, placing the glass down gently.

“Maybe put me down before you do that next time,” Shirley signed. “I swear you managed to give me vertigo somehow.”

“Don’t worry, I will never do that again.” Jameson laughed. “Was the shard at least a good idea?”

“Yes, it was. Thank you. I haven’t been out of this place since I was moved from the mansion…” Shirley lost themself in thought. Jameson decided not to interrupt their musings, instead waiting for them to snap out of it themself.

“Sorry.” They shook their head, banishing the thoughts. “I wonder just how much the world has changed…”

“When did you last see it?”

“1928…”

Jameson jumped slightly. “That’s when I’m from!”

“When you’re from?”

“Yeah! I’m from the 1920s too! I don’t know how I got here, but I’m still trying to adjust. I could show you everything I’ve learned so far!” His signs were quick, almost overlapping each other as he rushed to get the words out.

Shirley smiled. “I’d like that. Thank you, Jameson.”

“Oh, just call me JJ. That’s much easier to sign.”

They nodded. “Alright, JJ. Now you should really get to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Okay! I’ll talk you you soon, Shirley!” Jameson waved. He picked up the glass shard, hands grasping around the sharp edges. They cut into his palm, and he gasped silently. His breathing became labored as he grabbed his hand, blood pouring from the cut.

Shirley reached a hand out, like they could reach through the mirror to calm him, but they couldn’t do anything. He was already turned away from the mirror so he couldn’t see them.

That didn’t stop them from trying to pound on the glass to get his attention.

At this point Jameson was panicking, his breaths short and quick as he tried to get air. All he could see was the blood dripping from his palm, and the memories of Halloween at the forefront of his mind. It was overwhelming.

Logically, he knew that Anti wasn’t here right now, that he couldn’t possess him again, but the fear was still there. He doubted he’d ever be able to get over the fear that hurting himself caused.

He tried to calm himself, but nothing he did could lessen the knot in his stomach. Just when he thought that he’d never get out of it, though, he heard cracking, snapping him out of his attack, sending him careening right back into reality. He looked back.

Shirley’s mirror had acquired a new crack. They looked surprised.

“I did not know it would do that…” They signed. “Well, at least it worked. I’ve got your attention now. Just breath with me, JJ. Take a deep breath in.” They mimed it, allowing him to go along with them tempo. “And out.” They mimed their hand outwards. They repeated this several times, allowing Jameson’s breathing to even out. As the panic subsided, the pain in his hand became more apparent, but it was less shock inducing. Anti hadn’t come this time. He hadn’t tried to take him over.

“Sorry about that,” he signed sheepishly.

Shirley shook their head. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine. I understand.”

He nodded. They didn’t ask anything else, not wanting to pry when JJ was so kind to not pry into what had happened to them.

“Alright, I’m really going to bed now,” Jameson signed, carefully taking the shard this time and being careful not to touch the edges. “Thank you Shirley,” he signed, walking back towards his bedroom.

As he left, Shirley didn’t disappear from the mirror. They felt another presence coming towards them.

“I see you were listening in on our conversation. Or, well, reading it,” they signed.

“I told them not to bother you…” Dark growled, struggling to keep his shell in tact.

“Oh please.” They rolled their eyes. “I’m my own free person. I wouldn’t have appeared if I didn’t want to talk to me. I’m tired of only talking with you, ‘Dark’. Sure, it’s nice, but I need more than just one person to talk to in my life. And Wilford doesn’t exactly come around enough… You saw what we were talking about, you know it was just harmless chatting about each other. I’m not going to do anything that will hurt your cause. You know I hate Mark just as much as you do. Or, well, maybe not with enough hatred to match two people’s, but still a lot!”

Dark sighed. “I know, but… he took a piece of you…” His shell finally broke apart, leaving the blue aura surrounding him almost entirely.

“Yes he did, and I’m glad for it, Dames. I get to experience the world beyond these headquarters for the first time in nearly a century. You don’t have to try and keep me cooped up, Damien. I’m not going to die, or leave you behind.”

He looked down. “…You’re one of my last connections to the past…”

“I know, and I’ll always be here for you. If I didn’t leave you after you left me alone for however many years, I’m surely not going to leave you now.”

Damien chuckled. “Shirley. I can’t believe that’s what he’s calling you. I should’ve expected something so dumb from a Jack Ego.”

“I like it. It’s better than ‘person in the mirror’.”

“Why not give out your real name?”

They shook their head. “That’s not my name. The District Attorney that name belonged to died a long time ago. It’s best to leave them in the past. This is who I am now.”

He nodded. The aura around him began to shrink, and he regained his composure, adjusting his suit and clasping his hands behind his back in classic Dark fashion, showing that he was back to relative normality.

“Well… Shirley… They hope you’re happy.”

“Oh, please. You’re happy for me too, Dark, you softie.”

“Goodbye,” Dark said in lieu of a response.

Shirley rolled their eyes. They stayed in the mirror for a few minutes longer, just watching the shadows move throughout the room, relishing in the quiet. At some point, the silence had become a close friend to them, a constant from those years when they were well and truly alone in the twisted mansion.

That kind of isolation might drive a lesser person to insanity, but they had adjusted pretty well in their own opinion. They embraced the silence, and that may be the only thing that prevented madness from setting in.

That didn’t mean that a change wasn’t welcome, though.

It had been quite an eventful night, and they weren’t used to that much excitement in a year, let alone a single day, but it was nice.

Maybe one day they’d be able to get through to Wilford, and then they’d have three friends instead of just two friends and a casual acquaintance who couldn’t remember them, but that was for another day.

For now they were content with just disappearing back into the mirror to wait for whatever the next day held.

Whatever happened next, they were ready.

After all, they’d had nearly a hundred years to prepare themself.

———————————

People who wanted to be tagged: @the-asexual-reaper @niluith-moonlady @dontmakemecomeupwithausername

#markiplier fanfiction #fanfiction #markiplier #who killed markiplier #// panic attack

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 7 years ago

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The Heart Behind the Mind

Heyo! So for day three of Sanders Sides Appreciation Month, there was a prompt for writing a fic about Logan trying to analyze his emotions. Well I took it and ran with it, and it kinda became something a lot more than that. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Logan resisted the urge to slam his bedroom door behind him. He was supposed to be the logical side, the rational and calm one. Not the overly emotional side, that was Patton’s job. Speaking of Patton, he was the very reason that Logan was feeling such an influx of emotions. Logan closed the door quietly, then slumped against it and sighed, running a hand down his face. What was happening to him? Every time he encountered Patton, he was hit with a dizzying amount of emotions. He couldn’t even put names to half of the things he was feeling. He let out a frustrated groan.

“Calm yourself down Logan, there has to be a logical explanation for all of this,” he muttered to himself. Maybe if he tried analyzing the emotions he was feeling, everything would be clearer. Yes, he decided, then he could figure out why Patton caused him to be so- he shuddered- overly emotional.

Logan straightened up and strode over to his desk. He sat down and rifled through the desk drawers, eventually finding a notebook and pencil. Despite his usual precise manner, Logan’s room did not reflect this in the slightest. His desk was almost always cluttered with various sheets of paper, books, and other paraphernalia. Books were precariously stacked in random spots in his room, since the bookshelves were crammed full. However, despite all of this, Logan never lost anything.

Logan set to work on making a list on all of the things he was feeling. If he didn’t entirely know what emotion he was feeling, he tried describing it the best he could. Soon he had a pretty lengthy list, taking up a full page and a half. He set the pencil down and started reading through what he had written. He soon noticed that most of the emotions he was feeling were positive, minus the frustration he felt whenever Patton said something grammatically incorrect. Even his emotional reactions to Patton’s insufferable puns were mildly positive (though he’d never tell anyone that). Suddenly, Logan’s internal monologuing was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Logan called out, looking up from his notebook.

“It’s Virgil,” came the muffled reply. Logan sighed, thankful that it wasn’t Patton.

“Come in,” Logan said. Virgil walked in, holding Logan’s copy of A Study in Scarlet, the first book in the Sherlock Holmes series.

“I came to return this,” Virgil said, holding the book out to Logan. A little while ago, Logan discovered that Virgil really liked mystery novels. Logan recommended the Sherlock Holmes series, and had lent the first book to him.

“Ah! What did you think of it?” Logan asked, setting down his notebook and taking the book from Virgil. He walked over to one of the bookshelves where he kept the various Sherlock Holmes books, and placed it there with the others.

“I liked it. Can I borrow the next book?” Virgil asked.

“Of course. The next one is called The Sign of the Four,” Logan said, pulling the said novel off the shelf and handing it to Virgil. He then walked back to his desk and sat down, picking up the notebook again.

“Whatcha working on?” Virgil asked, peering over Logan’s shoulder.

“It’s none of your buisness,” Logan replied sharply. Virgil quirked up an eyebrow and smirked.

“Ooh, it must be something good,” Virgil jibed, reaching out and snatching the notebook from Logan’s hands.

“Hey! Give that back!” Logan demanded, jumping up from chair and trying to take back his notebook. Virgil leapt back and kept the notebook out of Logan’s reach.

“I’ll give it back to you only if you tell me what you’re working on and why you’re being so defensive about it,” Virgil taunted. Logan sighed in defeat.

“Fine. I’ve been feeling an unusual influx of emotions recently because of an individual, and I’m trying to find out why,” Logan admitted.

“Oh? And who is this individual?” Virgil prodded, not ready to give up the notebook quite yet. Logan groaned in frustration.

“Patton. Patton, for some unknown reason is causing me to feel a dizzying amount of emotions everytime I see him, or everytime he says something, or even when I think about him! I’m supposed to be the logical and rational side, and these emotions are undermining my very purpose!” Logan exclaimed in a rush. Virgil’s eyes widened. He clearly was not expecting this response. He handed the notebook back to Logan.

“I- uh- look, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if you wanna talk to someone about this, I’m here. Heck, maybe getting someone else’s perspective on this will help you figure it out,” Virgil stammered, fidgeting with his sweatshirt.

“Perhaps you are right,” Logan agreed.

“Okay. So, what exactly are you feeling?” Virgil asked.

“Well, I’ve noticed that most of the emotions I’m experiencing are positive. I do feel some slight frustration whenever he makes puns or says something grammatically incorrect, but otherwise the rest of the emotions are positive. However, I can’t entirely pin down specifically what emotions I am feeling. Sometimes I feel a… fluttering feeling in my stomach, but it’s not nausea. Other times I feel sort of tingly and fuzzy whenever Patton does something kind to me. And not a kind of fuzzy in which everything is blurry, but rather, everything is warm and cozy. I’ve also observed an increasing in my heart rate whenever Patton is near me. I would say it’s nervousness, but why would I have any reason to be nervous around Patton?” Logan stated. His brows knitted together in confusion when he saw the bemused grin on Virgil’s face.

“What?” he asked. Virgil chuckled and shook his head.

“Oh, this is good. You’re so head over heels for him that you don’t even know… oh my,” Virgil said between laughs.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Logan asked. None of this made any sense. And what did he mean by him being head over heels for him- oh no. No, it wasn’t possible. And yet, it all made too much sense. Virgil’s laughter stopped when he saw the realization on Logan’s face.

“Finally deduced it, Sherlock?” Virgil smirked.

“How on Earth did I develop romantic feelings for Patton, of all people!” Logan exclaimed, burying his face in his hands.

“Opposites attract,” Virgil shrugged. Logan sighed and peeked up at Virgil through his fingers.

“Now what do I do?” Logan asked, moving his hands away from his face.

“Talk to Patton about your feelings,” Virgil suggested.

“What?! In what world would that ever work out?! Patton would never want to be with someone like me, someone who tries their hardest to keep their emotions buried,” Logan protested. Virgil frowned.

“Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be negative. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Besides, maybe the feelings are requited,” Virgil pointed out.

“Why are you so confident about this?” Logan asked.

“No reason. Now go talk to him,” Virgil ordered, pushing Logan towards the door.

“Okay, I’m going. There’s no need to shove me out of my room,” Logan said, now outside of his room with Virgil.

“Uh-huh. You’re stalling,” Virgil pointed out. Logan rolled his eyes and groaned. He headed off to Patton’s room, and once he reached it, he knocked on the door.

“Come in!” came Patton’s cheery reply. Logan took a deep breath, steeling his courage, and opened the door, stepping into Patton’s room. The room was bright and colorful, and the way it was decorated was so charmingly Patton. Picture frames hung on the walls, with various pictures of the other Sides and Thomas and his friends. The bed was neatly made, and there was an overkill amount of pillows on it. Patton was currently sprawled on top of the bed, a book in his hands. Logan felt a rush of pride at the sight of Patton reading.

“Hi Logan! What’s up?” Patton asked, setting the book down. Logan smiled in spite of himself when he saw that Patton had been reading Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.

“I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment?” Logan asked, nervously fidgeting with his glasses.

“Of course! Come here,” Patton said, sitting up and gesturing for Logan to sit down next to him. Logan obliged, and sat down on the bed.

“Patton, after much analyzing, I have come to realize something. Whenever I am around you, or am even thinking about you, I feel an influx of emotions. I was confused by this, at first, but I understand why now. I have developed romantic feelings towards you,” Logan said. Patton froze for a moment. Logan’s face fell. He knew Patton would never want to be with someone so cold and calculating. These thoughts were suddenly flown from him when Patton suddenly threw himself forward and hugged Logan. He hesitantly returned the hug, since he wasn’t one for physical contact with others. However, something about Patton’s embrace just felt right. Patton pulled back, ending the hug, and Logan was surprised when he felt disappointed.

“Sorry, I know that you don’t really like hugs. But I was just so darn excited when you said that. I never thought that you would like me back!” Patton exclaimed.

“It’s quite alright. It actually felt nice,” Logan admitted.

“Sooo, do you wanna be my boyfriend?” Patton asked timidly. Logan smiled.

“Of course Patton, that’s what I was hoping for when I told you I held romantic feelings towards you,” Logan said, taking Patton’s hand and linking his fingers with Patton’s. Patton gazed into Logan’s eyes, and Logan saw pure admiration shining in them. Patton started to move forward, but paused.

“May I kiss you?” Patton murmured. Logan nodded, and moved closer to Patton. His eyes slipped closed, and their lips met. The kiss was gentle and full of promise, and Logan felt as if electricity was tingling through him. Patton’s free hand came up to cup Logan’s face. Logan let go of Patton’s other hand and he reached up and ran his fingers through Patton’s hair. His other arm snaked around Patton’s waist, pulling him closer. Logan wanted this moment to last forever, but unfortunately they both needed air. They pulled apart, gasping for breath. Patton giggled and leaned his forehead against Logan’s. Logan smiled as well, and if this was what being in love felt like, then perhaps emotions weren’t as pointless as he thought.

Thanks for reading! <3

P.S.- Shoutout to @cefmua56 for the prompt! And for making the whole Sanders Sides Appreciation Month thing.

#sanderssidesappreciationmonth #logicality

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