Jacksepticeye and Friends/Egos One-Shots

Have a Nice Trip

A/N: something silly I wrote for my friends who always point out how I draw Anti with untied shoelaces lmao (one of many arts depicting him like this above! (also one of my first anti arts of the year--happy new year btw!!))

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Anti liked living in the void, where he wasn't expected to follow up on any responsibilities, nor did he have to worry about personal stuff, like showering or finding nice clothes to wear. He just liked to exist and float along aimlessly, but he always wound back up in the Septic house for one reason or another. Sometimes it was being force-summoned by one of the others for their (frankly boring) ego meetings, but mostly it was because *he* was bored and wanted to mess with someone (and couldn't in the void, for the obvious reason of him being the only occupant).

Then, of course, there was the third reason. Stealing food.

Anti didn't necessarily get hungry, but who needs hunger when you've got cravings?

The void existed in a sort of semi-plane between worlds, like a pocket dimension, and sometimes the outside world would take a stroll through for a visit, causing him to be able to hear the others and even smell things they were making. And there was at least one good cook in the house, so sometimes those smells were too good to resist.

He teleported out like any other day. He didn't have a bedroom to hide in until he knew the coast was clear, so he had to rely on his own ability to find a closet from within the void, teleport into it and stay there until he knew there was no one around to catch him. Then, he would make his way to the kitchen, grab some food into his arms or on a plate and go straight back into the void from there. Simple.

Except when he forgot how his physical form worked. He always teleported in with clothes and shoes (thank gosh, thought the egos if they ever had the displeasure of making the demon's acquaintance), but those shoes just never seemed to be tied, and why would he be expected to know how to do that himself if he rarely used the physical body he'd been granted?

He slowly made his way toward the kitchen. He'd smelled something like garlic dough and sauce being made earlier and therein lied the craving, and now it was late enough that everyone had gone to bed, seeming to have forgotten to put away the supper leftovers, which Anti was grateful for. He spotted the plate easily, sitting on the counter, the aluminum foil almost glowing in the shine emanating from the kitchen nightlight that Anti never got the point of.

The temptation grew nearer as he stepped into the room. If they'd forgotten the food so easily, would it be really so bad of him to just... take the rest? He didn't think so.

Deciding on his plan, he sped up, but as soon as he did, one foot caught on the untied laces of the other and he was soon falling in slow motion down to the floor, making a loud crash as soon as he hit.

In defeat, Anti flattened his body like a pancake against the floor, ignoring as a door down the hall opened and footsteps approached. He'd already made a fool of himself, what was a little more? If anything, it would give him more reason to want to murder them.