Funny. (A DBH Drabble)

‘Scuse me while I try a different pain.

BANG

The sound was familiar. The numbness, and then the sudden shock of pain as he collapsed on the concrete. This form had felt this before, the old wound ripped open with the new one, the broken bones jolting out of place with the fall. The Darkness tried desperately to pull itself back together. Why this wound? Why had this one broken him? He was fading. No, no, no! This can’t be happening! This isn’t fair! This isn’t fair. This isn’t...this isn’t...

Suddenly, Damien gasped. His breath was weak and rattling...but it was his. He knew that this wasn’t his body, that he wasn’t truly his old self. He hadn’t been for a long time now, he’d been nothing but darkness for so long, he’d hardly remembered his own name anymore. But now, and he could’ve laughed if he’d had the breath, as he was lying in this puddle of blood, their blood...he remembered. Without the influence of that awful thing, he was himself, he was Damien, and...and...

Oh god.

Celine. His own sister, he’d left her there. And the DA...had he really left them in that godforsaken house? All alone for all of these years? And...

Oh no.

“Will...” he wheezed. A tear rolled down his cheek as it got harder still to breathe. He couldn’t see anymore. “’m sorry...Will, ‘m sorry...”

“Dark?”

No. No, anything but that name. Please, just let him be himself again. If nothing else in this cruel world, let him die as himself, with what little dignity he had left. He didn’t want to be that creature anymore. He groaned weakly.

Footsteps. A thud of someone collapsing down next to him.

“Dark, old man, what happened to you?”

He knew that voice...but it was wrong...it was wrong, but it was him. The tears came faster and he tried to move but grunted in pain.

“W...Will...”

“Speak up, Dark, I can’t hear you with your face on the ground like that.” He was so cheerful. Stupid, stupid man, Damien thought fondly. A hand turned him on his back and he cried out. Will sucked in a breath sharply.

“That’s a humdinger, alright. A hell of a joke.”

A joke. No, Will, no. Damien suddenly remembered what Will had become and sobbed painfully, coughing up blood. He used what little power lingered from...it...to stabilize himself slightly. Just long enough to do what he hadn’t gotten the chance to do the first time.

“Will...’s me...’s me...”

“I can see that, Dark-”

“No. No...not...that...’m...’m back, Will...’m back...”

There was a pause. Then a rattling breath. Then, in a very small voice...

“Damien?”

He laughed, coughing again, and Will tried to help him stop. His hands were shaking.

“’s been...a long time...”

“I...I-it has, h-hasn’t it...”

“’ve got..pink...ha...ha...”

“A tease as usual, I see.” A tear dripped onto his face. “I’ve missed that.”

His breathing was failing again, and the power was fading. “’m so...so sorry...”

“I-it’s...i-it’s alr-right...” A hand closed around his, and he was sad that he couldn’t return the pressure it put there. “It’s qu-quite alright.”

“Tell them...’m sorry...”

“Of course.” Will’s voice was a whisper.

“‘m sorry...” he mumbled again. The blackness of the Void was closing in again, and it was getting harder and harder to hear anything. Will’s hand felt a million miles away. “‘s good...to hear...y’r voice...old friend...”

A rattling breath. He couldn’t tell whose it was anymore.

“Goodbye, William.”

Then there was nothing.

A short story? about Wiford finding out that we killed Dark (in A date with Markiplier) saying that he trusted us and we are the only monster here. Because i like to make me suffer

@markired

‘I SAW YOU DIE' 

‘two men go to a party, they both share some wine, and they played a game. The most dangerous game. I didn’t know that gun was loaded, I didn’t know. Was it my fault?’

‘you can’t change the past, you can tell all the stories you want to tell, it won’t change what happened. You can’t rewrite the past. If you live in fantasy forever, you’ll lose yourself in the story.’

Broken (Demon!Dean Imagine)

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Rating: PG 13 for heartbreak

"No."

"Sam, I'm not a child. I can do this."

"No. You're not going in there."

"Well, why do you have to do it? What makes you more qualified than me?"

"I'm his brother."

"I'm his girlfriend. Have been for three years."

Sam sighed and looked down at his shuffling feet. The bunker was quiet, and felt almost suffocating today. There was a table covered in empty coffee mugs, and a dungeon that was all too full.

This was the third time you and Sam had had this debate, and you were determined to win, close to tears or not. When he finally looked up and nodded, you blinked.

"You're gonna let me do it?"

He gave a very weary smile. "Like you said, you're not a kid. And...Maybe you would be better."

He was nearly knocked over by the tight hug you gave him, and stroked your hair.

One... Two...

Breathe.

Three.

You slid the door open slowly, the creak and groan of metal filling the silence. Not looking up from the ground, you came into the room.

There was the sound of movement, a moment of surprised hesitation, then...a laugh. And it wasn't his laugh.

"I was wondering when Sammy would let you down here, (Y/N)."

You tried very hard not to wince at your name in that mocking tone, eyes still glued to the ground as you shut the door and went to the small silver table with the roll of syringes.

"Aw, you're gonna drug me up. Baby, that's adorable-"

"Don't call me baby." You could almost feel him smile; it made your skin crawl.

"Why not? You love it when I call you baby."

"I love when Dean calls me baby."

"I am Dean. Just-"

"You say a newer model and I'll punch you in the goddamn face." He chuckled.

You picked up a syringe, and a needle. Put the two together. Started to roll up your sleeve.

"You know you can't fix me, right?"

"Watch me."

"Well," he shuffled again, relaxing into the chair a bit, "you can make me human again, sure. But you can never fix me. I'll always be broken. I was when I met you, I was before I got the Mark, I was when I was human and had it. This is the closest to whole and happy I've ever been."

"Shut up." It was practically a whisper.

But he kept on, and the words hurt worse than the needle in your skin.

"See, now I'm not worried about anything. I don't care if Sammy dies, or Cas. I don't care if you die-"

"Shut. Up."

"-I wouldn't feel a bit of guilt, even with your blood on my hands. Actually, that'd be kinda fun. Chasing you around, hunting you down-"

You pulled the needle out sharply and stalked over to him, jabbing it in mercilessly. He hissed and fought, crying out as you pushed in the plunger and the blood flooded his system again. As you walked back over to the table, he began to scream.

"Why the hell are you even trying?! This won't work! It can't, and I don't want it to! Why does it matter what happens to me?!"

"Because I can't lose you, and I won't, even if I have to go to Hell and back again. Because Dean Winchester, I love you, and I won't stop until you're human or I'm dead."

As you walked out, you kept your eyes fixed on the door, trying desperately to ignore the tears blinding you at least until that door was shut behind you again. To your surprise, he said nothing else, and the only sound from him was heavy, ragged breathing.

You didn't look back as you shut the door, but if you had, you would have seen the demon staring at you, face slack with shock, frozen.

Just for a moment, right before the door closed, he moved forward, and opened his mouth as if to speak.

And there was a flash of green in those black eyes.

(I’ve only been to two lmao I think it’s cool!) I’m trying to write a fic rn for a character I came up with and I am struggling to decide if it should be fluff or angst or neutral like yikes idk how writers do it

Hmmm, maybe try writing a synopsis for each genre and seeing which one you like best?

i-

i feel obligated to point out that destiel has only reached 100k fics on ao3 if you're logged into an account....

PLUS the 'favourite tag' option is only there if you're logged in

are you all seeing this???? heller king misha has an ao3 account y'all i bet he wrote the 100 000th fic

IT’S SHOWTIIIIIIIME

So! What we’ve got here is a basic teaser trailer, but there’s so much more to it than that!

Let’s start with sounds. That right there? Air raid siren, typically used in high security situations or widescale emergency alert systems. For the sake of my sanity, we’re gonna guess that it’s high security here. This museum has top of the line alerts, not just the bells and secret alarms of a normal place. Why is that? What’s it guarding?

That brings us to point number two! The lights. Clearly, we’re seeing down the end of a hallway, slowly lit up as if triggered by the sirens, but that’s a strange way to have your electronics set up. Why not have the lights trigger the alarm? That’d make more sense if it’s somewhere with secure access: you have to turn on the lights the right way or the sirens cut on and you’re busted. It’s weird to me. Someone got a good idea as to why it’s backwards?

And finally! THE PICTURE. That very much looks like Actor Mark. But why? Who would go to all the trouble to steal a picture of some long-dead actor? Who would bother? Even if he’s still “alive”, why would you want his picture that badly? And more importantly, why is it under such high security? Who put it under lock and key?

There’s a lot going on here and I’m HOOKED. It’s been a minute since I’ve had something this interesting to theorize over. I’m excited to see what this brings. :)

It’s not about me. It’s about you.

Is that a light? Oh, I can barely see anymore, but it seems to me that the darkness has actually receded. Perhaps something shifted, and it’s day, out there. Perhaps it’s sunlight. That would be nice.

The bugs don’t bother me anymore, which is good news, I suppose. Bad news for my nerves, as even though I can’t feel the bugs anymore, I can’t feel anything else either. But I suppose that’s fine. I’m more comfortable now.

It was worse the first day. The pain from the fall, the broken limbs, the raw throat from screaming. It was unbearable down here, in the dark, and the heat, with the fear. That’s another thing. The fear, the constant, aching fear of the dark and the bugs, and the overarching fear of not being found in time...it’s gone. And I can almost be happy here, in my last moments, I suppose. Once the pain stopped, and the fear, I looked around, for once. The rock is gorgeous, down here, so textured and streaked through with lovely greys and blacks and the occasional reddish brown, if you squinted through the shadow enough. The birds singing overhead were nice while I could hear them, a constant melody from early morning to late evening, sunrise to sunset concerts that I’m glad I was here to appreciate. I can see why the ancient ancestors of humanity wrote endless volumes of poetry dedicated to the beauty of the natural world. It’s very hard for us to slow down long enough to appreciate it. I suppose I’ve slowed to a stop, now. Or...I will, soon enough.

You will, too, soon. I know all of this sounds impossible to you now. Or would, if you could hear me over that silly screaming. Even with my own hearing fading, you’re still awfully loud, friend. I do wish you’d stop and listen. I don’t suppose I thanked you for coming to look for me, yet, did I? Thank you. I would’ve thought that four days after they’d just be looking for a body, wouldn’t they? Glad you wanted to find me alive. Sorry you did. I think they’ll find you, though. If something’s shifted, and that light is sunlight, someone will see you, won’t they? That’s nice.

Oh...it’s flickering. That’s a bit strange for sunlight to do. Flicker, on and off...on and off...and now it’s just...off? Reminds me of a flashlight, flickering like that...flicker, flicker, flicker...and when it flickers off, doesn’t it seem darker? Hahaha...wouldn’t that be just funny? If...if instead of shifting to get more light, something shifted and now we’re even more hidden. Wouldn’t that be just hilarious? Hahaha. That’d mean you won’t ever be found, wouldn’t it? Hahaha. Funny...very, very funny...

((Prompt from the writing.prompts instagram.))

Do You Trust Me? Pt. 5

A/N: THE END.

Link to Pt. 4: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155731272537/do-you-trust-me-pt-4

Link to Pt. 3: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155699231442/do-you-trust-me-pt-3

Link to Pt. 2: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155686403892/do-you-trust-me-pt-2

Link to Pt. 1: http://skinnyscottishblokeaddict.tumblr.com/post/155650933267/pizsospa-cmon-little-dude-you-can-trust-me

"GO! JUST GO! RUN!" You couldn't if you'd wanted to. But you couldn't move to help him either. He screamed again, clutching at his head, doubling over on his knees, his whole body glitching out. "No...NO!" And he collapsed. "JACK!" You ran toward him, all fear and panic, all thought for your own safety gone. You just needed to know he was okay. Your knees thudded sharply against the ground and you cupped his face with your hands. "Jack, please. Please wake up. Please. You can't leave me. You can't leave them. They need you, Jackaboy, c'mon." He grunted weakly and you let out a short sob. "Knew you could...do...it..." He was laughing. And when his eyes opened, they were black.

You scrambled back as he stood, dusting himself off. "Well," Anti said hoarsely, voice still glitchy and pitch-distorted, but growing less so, growing more...human. "That was harder than I thought, honestly. I'll give 'im credit, I didn't think he'd even put up that much of a fight. Still. Not strong enough." "Let. Him. Go." He arched an eyebrow at you and grinned, too wide. "'Let him go'? What, are we playing tag?" He laughed, that high, disturbing giggle. "Oh, I can't just 'let him go', even if I wanted to. He's gone. It's just me in here!" He tapped his temple gleefully, watching you stand as if you were an interesting bug he was about to crush. You felt a sob welling up, but more angry than afraid, you shoved it down and balled your hands into fists. "He's not gone, you disgusting, lying thing." "Thing, huh?" He took a step toward you, and you had just enough courage, or maybe adrenaline, to hold your ground. "Did I get downgraded? Normally it's 'demon' or 'monster'." "You don't even deserve that. You're just...bad data." "'Bad data'!" He laughed again. God, you wished he'd stop that. It was horrifying. "You're gonna have to do better than that." He took another step, and this time you couldn't help but back away. "You idiot," he put his hands in his pockets, steadily moving closer, loving every second of you shrinking away. You gasped when you bumped into the wall behind you, and he got closer. The black of his eyes slowly melted away to reveal neon green irises. He leaned closer still, until he was inches from your face. "You really don't get it, do you? He was the only one with any chance of stopping me. And you? You're a dead fan walking." His smile got impossibly wider in appreciation of his twisted pun. "He can still stop you." Your voice was barely a whisper, and you jumped when he shouted, voice glitching out as his emotions spiked. "HE'S DEAD!"

You took another shaky breath, eyes wandering desperately. And they caught your watch. The stupid, stupid thought that came to your head was, "I'm missing the new video."

Video one was out for today. The video was out... You had the smallest spark of an idea. It was a shot in the dark, but...If you were going to go down, you were going to go down trying.

You met his eyes, hating that they were green, hating that they looked at you with so much glee, and malice. "Jack. Please. You've gotta fight him. I know you can hear me. I know you're there." Anti's arm was suddenly on your neck, and you were scrambling to pull it away. "It's lucky I don't need you conscious," he growled, shoving again, "I just need you breathing. And only long enough to get across." "Jack," you gasped, "think...think about them. Think about...us. We n...we need you." A weak smile. "You're...you're the boss, right?" Anti pushed harder, and it was getting harder and harder to focus. Had you not been trying so damn hard, you might've missed the hesitation. But it was there, and it was enough to give you hope. "What...?" It was barely a grunt, but you caught it. And you choked out a laugh as Anti convulsed, stumbling back. It was his turn to grab his head, green eyes wide in confusion and shock. "No. No, no, no, no, NO!" You'd collapsed to your knees, but you struggled to stand again, one hand going to the wall behind you as you concentrated. "Who's the idiot who assumed you could make Jack go silent? Anti, you don't get it. Sure, the fandom likes you. But there's something Jack's got that you'll never have." "And what's that?" he spat, the end of the sentence turning into a grunt of pain. His arm began glitching slightly, then his leg, then one eye. You smiled coldly. "You're the villain, Anti. In every story, in every video, in every post, you're the villain. But Jack?" Now he was retreating from you. "Jack's our hero." And you turned and slammed your hand against the wall, and it brightened. Suddenly, a picture popped up. It was Jack and a fan, both smiling in excitement. Anti stared at it in confusion, and started glitching out again. He yelled and shut his eyes. "Dammit!" A video popped up next. Jack, at his panel, jumping off the stage amid cheers to hug a fan. His hands went to his ears. "Stop! Stop it! STOP!" A thank you letter, from Tumblr, from a fan whose life Jack'd saved. And then another, and another. More pictures. Fanart. Jack, riding Trico, laughing. Jack, in a striped jumper, with a bright green heart above his head. Jack, yelling as he fell from a Colossus's collapsing body. Jack screaming at Billy as he fell into spikes. The wall was filling with posts from Jack's fans. Video clips, edits, pictures, soundbites, messages, tweets, comments. "Millions of people. Millions. Calling out to Jack to come back to them. They need their hero, and you're not gonna get in their way." "No, no, no, no, NO! STOP IT! HE'S MINE!" But his voice was glitching worse than before, and you thought you could hear another voice under it, laughing. Another voice, yelling Jack's catchphrases in time with the clips on the wall. Another voice, saying your name proudly, egging you on. "Jack, c'mon! You got this! Kick him out! You can do it!" "STOP IT!" His whole body was glitching out now, his face jumping between the angry distortions of his screaming, and Jack's grin, Jack calling out to you. And then suddenly, he collapsed. You yelled and grabbed your ears, eyes clenching shut automatically as a high-pitched scream rang out.

Silence. Absolute...silence. You didn't dare open your eyes. Please. Please. Please. And then...

A groan.

Your eyes shot open. "Jack?" He slowly pulled himself up, until he was resting on one elbow, breathing heavily. And then he pushed himself up into a crouch. He looked over at you.

You'd never been happier in your life to see blue eyes.

"JACK!" He laughed as you fell to the ground and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, hugging you back with just as much intensity. "Hey." "Don't you 'hey' me, you asshole," you sobbed, but you were grinning. You pulled back a bit and scrubbed your eyes vigorously. "Damn, I'm glad to see you. Oh god." "I'm glad to be back." You could tell he was trying desperately to sound light about it, but there was more genuine relief than teasing in it. More quietly, he added, "Thank you. For...those." He motioned to the wall of still playing messages, smiling at them fondly. "Don't thank me. Thank them." "I do," he chuckled. "At the end of every video. And I mean it every time. God, you guys are amazing." "Yeah," you agreed, moving to sit next to Jack so you could both look at the wall. New things were scrolling through now. Gifs from new videos, theories about lore and more fanart from recent game series. "Yeah, we are. There's so many of us." It was only just hitting you how many. "14 million." He sounded so wistful and happy about it. You looked over to catch a goofy smile on his face, which you had to match. "14 million people. And they all like the stuff I do here. They like the games. They like..." "You." His smile got a little sad. "They like Sean." "No." He looked over at you, smile dropping a little. You put a hand on his back. "No, Jack. They love you. You say you're the part of Sean that exists online. Well, that's the only part we know. Yeah, we love Sean. But we know you. You're the one that makes us smile and laugh, that we go on adventures with in every video. We love Sean, the person. But we also love Jacksepticeye. The channel, the brand, the community. We love green and blue eyeballs, we love the flatcap and the green hair, we love yelling the intro and the outro at top volume, high-fiving 'til the headphones come off. We love Sean for being the man who started all of it, for caring for us so much and working so hard to do what he loves, for doing all the good he does for the world, but we also love the world he created online. So that means we love you."

Apparently, it was possible for a computer program to cry, because Jack was wiping his eyes with the collar of his shirt. He couldn't even muster a comeback, or a comment at all. You rubbed his back, smiling a bit. "As for me, anyway...I'd still love to meet Sean, of course. But...I'm so fucking glad I got to meet you. I think everyone wishes you'd reply when they say something stupid to their screen, and...as much as this's been terrifying, and dangerous, and as much as I do want to go home...I have loved every second I got to spend with you. It's like finally getting to talk to an old friend. I love you, Jack." He couldn't speak for a long moment. He did manage to pull you back into a hug, choking out a laugh. When he finally managed to speak, it was hoarsely. "Thank you. And I love you, too. I love you guys more than anything else in the world." He laughed a little again. "I don't even have a fuckin' thing to say after that speech. God, how embarrassing." "The loudest man in the universe doesn't have words for me. Someone alert the media." He squeezed your shoulders, and then the both of you moved to stand, finally.

You didn't say anything else as you walked along, finally coming to the ravine. When you got to Jack's door, he opened it and gestured, almost teasingly for you to go in first. You thanked him for his chivalry. It was good to be home.

"You didn't argue when I said man this time," you murmured when Jack was adjusting the camera. He huffed. "I was a little tired, having been possessed and all." He turned to look at you, hands on his hips. "You ready?" "As I'll ever be, I guess." "Then...it's goodbye." "Yeah." There was barely a second of hesitation before you pulled each other close, and there wouldn't have been a way to tell who was hugging tighter if anyone tried. After a moment, you pulled apart again, smiling. "I think..." He stepped back, taking the flashdrive from you and plugging it into his computer, booting up the code. "I think it's probably possible to be both a man and a program." "Well," you went to stand in front of the camera, "I can say, without a doubt, you are the best Persona I've ever met." "I'll take that." He paused, then said your name, making you look back over at him. It was still nice to hear him say it. "See ya in the next video." "Yeah. See you in the next one." One more long look, and then you turned back to the camera, closed your eyes, and focused on home. You reached out and touched the camera, opening your eyes at the last moment and glancing back over one last time to see Jack waving. You waved back... And everything was fading. And you were falling.

The Good Doctor.

((A/N: TRIGGER WARNING FOR GORE AND NEEDLES!! Well, Anti made a reappearance, and now we have more lore. Specifically, about Schneeplestein! I was excited, so I thought I’d write a quick fic about the aftermath of Say Goodbye. Enjoy!))

"Oh god..." Henrik jerked into motion, nearly barreling over the table as he fell into place beside Jack, dropping his medical bag open on the floor beside him. The blood, oh god, the blood, there was so much of it. Snapping himself out of his shock, he scrambled through the bag with one hand as the other desperately tried to stem the flow of blood from the deep gash in his old friend's neck. "Where is it? Where is it?! Dammit...hold in there, Jack, just hold on...you don't get to die on me, no, no, no, not on the watch of Dr. Schneeplestein!" He glanced over at Jack, with half a weak smile as he nearly anticipated the usual laugh and eye-roll he'd get whenever he was as grandiose as that. But there was nothing, no flicker of life from the cold form. He jerked the needle, thread, and towel free of the bag and began desperately trying to stitch Jack's neck together and stop the blood at the same time. Where were his medicines to thicken blood? Where were his gauze and bandaging? Where was his antiseptic spray?

"DON'T YOU DIE ON ME!" Henrik's panic was getting the best of him now. He was working quickly, sloppily. There were moments where he thought he missed time passing, his sight seeming to skip from one second to the next. He almost thought he was...twitching. Nerves, it must be nerves. Jack was dying, right there in front of him, and he wasn't doing enough, he couldn't do enough, it ͞ẃa͡s̢ ͝n̡evèr͏ eno̕ug͢h.͠ He doubled over, twitching once, violently. He thought he heard a high-pitched ringing. Looking at his shaking hands, he thought for a second he saw them go around Jack's neck, as if to choke him. No, no that couldn't be right. He blinked, gasping, and saw his hands, jerked up beside him, nowhere near Jack at all. No. No, he couldn't lose it now. He couldn't lose control now, Jack needed him. Get it together, Doctor! The ringing got louder, and under it, some noise. Some...pattern. High, cold, uneven...almost like a laugh. Henrik shook his head.

Ĝ͈ͥͥͨ́ͮ͒õ̳̰̣͕͔̼ͦ̄̓̾ȭ͎̩̦͓̱̣̟d̬̪̝͕͔̤̣͌̎ͪͩ ͙̞̜̜̱̜̽̿͛́ḍ̞̣͉̞̯͋͛ö͕̤̬͕͕͈ͬc̹̘͙͚̗̥͍̕t̶̰̯ͯ̓̊̇̋̓͌o̧͉̘͚̻͌̌̄̎͋͐r͍͕̗̼̤̯̹͋.̇͛̓͘.̺̖͖͈́ͧ͒ͣ.͔̩̼͓̗͙͙ͤ̇͐̚y̵̗͖̱̘̝̻ͣo̩̯̼̫̠͕̖ͣ̇ͩ́̔̇ͫú͔̳͇̥̪̞̦̾͊̇ ͖̹͎̆̂̑̇̏̍̕c̗̞͈̻ͭ͐̐̎̋̽̚oͨu͔͠l̊͛̾̉̌҉̥͈͎͎͓̩d̻͗̇̈ ͙̝̫͇͂̏ͪ̚b̸͐̿ͪe ̦͓̳̥̮͛͑͘f̻͇͔̱̘͕̊ͩ̑̅̓͆̓u̩n͓̚.̔̓̈́ͮͩͤ̚.̖͉ͭͩ́.̪͇̖̗̀ͮ̒̉̆͛ͣͅ

"No. No, no, no," he muttered, covering his ears with his hands. How could he be losing control at a time like this? He had never been prone to panic attacks, why now, of all times? Perhaps it was insanity? People had always said he was on the verge of it. He shook his head. No. He needed his mind clear to help Jack, he needed to stop the bleeding...the bleeding...

The bleeding had stopped. Henrik stared, uncomprehending. He checked for a pulse. There was no way... He felt one. Very, very faint, but present. Jack was alive.

Jack woke up, only hours later, and seemed to feel no ill effects, other than being a bit weak. He didn't seem to even remember what had happened. When he asked the doctor, he couldn't bring himself to tell, so instead, he made up some cock-and-bull story about pumpkin fumes knocking him out. It was a very weak reason, and clearly, Jack didn't believe him, but he didn't question it. Even when later, he looked in the mirror and saw the red stains on his neck. Even when he saw the blood on the carpet, and in the carved pumpkin he didn't remember finishing.

Dr. Schneeplestein never mentioned the "panic attack". He never talked about what had really happened. He never talked about the voice.

Neither of them wanted to think about what had done it...and how that thing was still out there. Neither wanted to think about when he might come back.

So if you’re a fan of my stuff here, I’ve been moving a lot of my older fic to AO3, and I’ve even re-written and added to some of them! If you feel like checking that out, go for it. I’m under the name Kittenbedtimestories there, the same as my old Wattpad name.