An Eternity In Hell (In Space With Markiplier Drabble)

Ta dah! Just a quick sketch but I’m happy with it

(Yeah! US is cool! I think it’s cool that there’s so many states) hm that’s cool! Do you prefer to write angst or fluff or just like whatever comes to mind?

(soooo manyyyyy. I’ve only been to like...five different ones? I think? lol)

I do like writing angst because there’s just so much to do, and it’s so intense. But fluff is just too cute!

At times I actually forgot that the colonel, Damien and dark were different people he played them so well and so clearly

Right? Mark did such a good job separating the characters and their little quirks and mannerisms that you forget they’re all the same person, even though they all have the same face.

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.

ALRIGHT WHILE I WOULD LOVE TO LIVE THEORIZE WITH THE REST OF THE COMMUNITY UNFORTUNATELY I HAVE SHIT TO DO TODAY SO EXPECT A HUUUUUGE THEORY POST LATER TODAY.

ALL I’M GONNA SAY FOR NOW IS FUCK YEAH MURDER MYSTERY TIME

Wandering (A Robbie the Zombie drabble). Feat. Post-Apocalypse Robin!

A/N: I’ve never written Robbie in his own story before, but he’s a sweetheart and I thought I’d give it a try, and also try to explain his name, maybe. Enjoy!

He doesn't know how he died. All he knows is that one day, he woke up, and he was staring at the open blue sky. He sat up, looked around at the lonely street he was on, stood slowly, and wandered off. That's what he does best; he wanders. He's not much for deep thought, and trying to plan out where you're going, trying to find things or do things that take a long time, they take too much of his energy. But wandering? It lets him enjoy the quiet. Sunshine in a forest. An empty highway at night. A beach in the off season. Well, he supposed every season was the off season now.

He doesn't remember who he was before he died. Doesn't even know if he had a name, not that there's anyone to call him by it anyway. He supposes he was young; the glances he's gotten of his reflection make him think twenties, but he could've been in his thirties. A little bit of facial hair is eternally stuck at the same length on his face, a short scruffy beard and mustache, and two bushy eyebrows that've all turned an ashy brown with death. Pale, grey skin sits tight over a smaller, fairly slim frame. Grey eyes stare at the grey-scale world through a thin white film (it doesn't affect his vision that much). A striped white and black shirt and black jeans cover him with relative modesty, though they’re ripped and dirtied with who knew what. No shoes. It’s not too bad, but he is easily pleased. Something he very much likes about the way he looks, however, is that he's got a mop of unruly, electric purple hair on the top of his head. It's the only bit of bright color in his appearance, and he feels like maybe Living-him would've liked that. He sometimes wonders who Living-him was. What did he do for a living? He isn't particularly muscular, or big, so nothing sporty or physical. His clothes are very casual. Had he worked from home? Been off-duty when he died? He doesn't know.

He discovers he's in Brighton, and that he can read still (though not very quickly), when he finds a yellowing newspaper on a bench by the pebbly beach. An old copy of the local news, warning about the deadly outbreak of something, and somewhere testing nuclear weapons, and other sad things. He puts it down again and walks away. He's glad he remembers where Brighton is, and that he has a vague impression of what the city would've looked like way back then: a woman's laugh and the pressure of her hand in his, the sound of cars driving by on his quiet street. He wonders if Living-him had lived here all his life, or if he'd come from somewhere far away. He turns slowly toward the sound of something moving, which wasn't his imagination.

A man is staring at him, standing, frozen, on the other side of the street. He is fairly tall, with short brown hair and wide-open eyes, the blue of which are overwhelmed by the black of his pupils. He has a gun slung over his shoulder, and seems to be considering reaching for it. Surely he's not afraid of him? One dead man against a living man isn't much of a match; guns have quite a reach, and rigor mortis tends to slow down your running speed significantly. He doesn’t see any other option for it. Might as well be polite. He waves. The man frowns, confused. Stares at him for a few moments longer.

Waves back.

He smiles, glad that his gesture has been returned, and turns to move on down an alley. "Wait!" He raises his eyebrows and turns back to look at the man, who is now crossing the street toward him cautiously. He stops a few feet away and considers him. "Can...can you understand me?" It amuses him that he remembers enough to know that this is not an English accent, but is disappointed that he can't remember what accent exactly that it is. "You don't have to talk," the man continues as he receives no response from the purple-haired stranger, "you can just...y'know, nod, or shake your head?" He thinks for a moment, then nods. The man smiles. "Really? Cool." They watch each other for a moment. "Do you have a name?" He shrugs, slowly. "Okay," the man nods, folding his arms with a smirk. "Well. You don't look like you're in a big rush to kill me, which is nice." He extends a hand. "I'm Robin." He stares at Robin's hand. "You're...supposed to shake it?" Oh. He shakes Robin's hand, and is surprised that he doesn't flinch away from the cold of his skin or the unnatural stiffness of his movements. He does note that Robin's easy-going smile quirks slightly at the contact. Their hands drop back to their sides, and he decides to try something new.

"R...R..." His voice is rusty and crackly from disuse, but apparently still functional, much to both of their surprise. Robin huffs out a laugh. "You can talk! Why didn't you tell me?" He frowns slightly and tilts his head. "I'm kidding, man, relax," Robin grins. "Were you trying to say my name?" "R..Ro...b..." He nods as he tries again. Robin puts a hand over his heart as if he's touched by the gesture, then chuckles again as he starts to walk. "You wanna come with me? I've never met a zom' that  can talk to me. Let's see if we can't get your voice to work." "Y...eah." Robin looks so proud of his first proper word that he can't help but smile back, the muscles in his face tight with the movement. "C'mon then, uh..." He falters slightly, and the purple-haired man shrugs. "Well...pick a new name then. I have to call you something." "Ro...b...?" "You want me to pick?" "Mm...hm..." "Hm..." He thinks for a minute, then smirks. "Well, the only thing you seem to be able to pronounce is the first half of my name. So let's call you Robbie!" "R...Ro...b...bie.." "See, you're getting better already!" Robin moves off down the street, still laughing and swinging his arms at his sides. Robbie (he likes the ring of it) stumbles after him, listening to him ramble. It's a nice change from the usual silence.

My fingers slipped...

"I fuckin' dropped my headphones again, dammit," he laughed, bending to pick them up. You laughed too, shaking your head, and though you knew he couldn't hear you, you muttered fondly, "I mean it's to be expected, ya over-enthusiastic green bean." "What'd you call me?" You stopped, frowning at the screen. Jack was looking straight at the camera, in mock-offense. You chuckled. "Damn, my timing is on today." You really should stop talking to yourself... "It wasn't even a clever joke!" Jack grinned, sidling toward the camera, swinging his headphones in one hand and his VR set in the other. "It was plain insulting! I am the greenest of beans, thank you!" "It's like you can hear me!" You laughed, getting ready to hit the home button. Jack's smile dropped in surprise. "Wait. You heard that? You saw that?" You paused again. This was...not what you expected.

"And I will SEE ALL YOU DUDES...IN THE NEXT VIDEO!" The outro music played, making you laugh as you dropped your arms and scrolled down to the comments. Twenty seconds to chill there before you caught the outro clip and moved on for the day, which was fine with you. Twenty seconds was more than enough time in the comments with the "buy me" bots so abundant these days. You hummed along to "I'm Everywhere", debating putting the song on in the background while you got some work done before bed. This was a routine of yours: Come home, watch videos, do some work, and sleep. It was a good system, and it was nice to see your favorite youtuber's faces at the end of your day, almost always leaving you smiling as you turned off the lights. Jack, Mark, Ethan, everyone you watched, made you so happy. They might not know you personally, but that was okay. It was enough to send them your love and support, and it was cool to occasionally get a like or a reblog, or, much rarer, a reply, once in a while. It was fun enough just being part of the community, laughing at the inside jokes and smiling and crying together through all the games and videos. Everyone was so nice, it was unbelievable. It was like having millions and millions of friends to chat with 24/7. What a feeling! You were so lost in thought that it startled you when the music cut out and Jack's voice came up again in the outro clip. You scrolled up, smiling. "I fuckin' dropped my headphones again, dammit," he laughed, bending to pick them up. You laughed too, shaking your head, and though you knew he couldn't hear you, you muttered fondly, "I mean it's to be expected, ya over-enthusiastic green bean." "What'd you call me?" You stopped, frowning at the screen. Jack was looking straight at the camera, in mock-offence. You chuckled. "Damn, my timing is on today." You really should stop talking to yourself... "It wasn't even a clever joke!" Jack grinned, sidling toward the camera, swinging his headphones in one hand and his VR set in the other. "It was plain insulting! I am the greenest of beans, thank you!" "It's like you can hear me!" You laughed, getting ready to hit the home button. Jack's smile dropped in surprise. "Wait. You heard that? You saw that?" You paused again. This was...not what you expected. Deciding that you didn't have to worry about sounding crazy as you were home alone, you tested something. "Um...yeah. You said I insulted you." "I do that all the time, talk to you after videos...but you've never heard me before." Jack was staring at you, halfway between concern and interest. "Okay. I must be really tired. I'm going to bed," you announced, trying to convince yourself that you were just talking to yourself. "I mean if it makes you feel better," he said, shrugging. But he looked disappointed. It almost made you sad, but...but that'd be ridiculous. Getting sad about a hallucination. Ridiculous. You stood, pulling off your headphones and setting them down. But as you turned to take a step, the lights buzzed and dimmed for a moment. You frowned at them. Was there something up with the power tonight? Was a storm rolling in? The lights dimmed again, and the buzzing got louder. And in the buzzing, you thought you could hear... Something "tink"ed behind you. You turned to see Jack tapping frantically on the glass, saying something you couldn't hear. Alright. Dream fully commenced, you supposed. Though you didn't recall feeling tired enough to fall asleep at your desk. You picked the headphones back up and put them on. "-sten to me! Oh, thank Christ, you put those back on! Gimme your hand, now!" "What?" "Gimme your hand, you've gotta trust me for a minute, you're in trouble!" Jack was leaning toward the camera, hand outstretched. "But how can I...Y-you're a Youtube video! How the hell can I give you my hand?! What trouble?!" The lights flickered again, the buzzing now a constant drone, and under it, a faint voice, singing something you weren't sure you wanted to hear the words to. "Him! Now c'mon! Just reach!" "Jack, I dunno..." This was quickly becoming a nightmare, and you were starting to get scared. "C'mon, dude, you can trust me! Please!" A light popped and shattered behind you and you jumped. That was enough to make the decision for you, and you reached... ...and felt his hand grab yours. Suddenly, you were falling.

And then you were standing. Shell-shocked, you blinked and stumbled a step back, but someone's hands were on your arms to steady you. "Easy, easy, that kinda travel's hard on you the first time you do it." You gaped at Jack, right in front of you, in person. "How-? What-? Huh-?" Jack smiled, a little panicked still, a little reassuring. "Hi. Ah...welcome to the video." "Weirdest. Dream. Ever." You took a step back and Jack dropped his hands, putting them on his hips instead. "Ah, you're sayin' this is a dream. That's one way to cope, I guess. Okay. Dream it is, then." "Dream it is," You agreed, no willing to argue the point at this stage. "Ah, nice to meet you, Jack. Or, Sean, I guess-" "Oh, no, no," he said quickly, shaking his head, "I'm not Sean. I'm Jack." It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "Meaning?" "Meaning Sean is part of your world. He's the actual person, I guess." He shrugged. "There's no good way of explaining it, and honestly, I've never had to before. Let's go with this: I'm Jacksepticeye, meaning I'm the part of Jack that exists online. In his videos, on twitter and tumblr and all that. I'm a..a persona, I guess." You nodded slowly. "So...I'm like...in the internet right now?" "Yeah." Jack nodded. "Welcome to the Web." "A physical place." "More or less." "How?" "Well, I don't really know. I wasn't hear for the beginning of it. All I know is that I exist. And this place exists. Sort of, half-real, I think. More electricity and code and computers than physical stuff." "That makes no sense." Jack shrugged, holding his hands up in defeat. "I did say I'd never explained it before. I dunno if I can." You shook your head and sighed. "Well...this is still a dream. So...dream logic it is. This exists because it does, that's all." "Alright, yeah," he agreed, smile returning full force. "Now about that...thing..." And the smile was gone again. "He hasn't done that before." "He?" But he didn't seem to hear you. Jack walked over to the camera, checking it for something, then busied himself finding a plug for it. "He's never made it out of a video before. It shouldn't be possible. But I suppose after Halloween, he would be stronger, wouldn't he?" There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. "Not...?" Jack nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Him." "But...isn't he stuck in my world, then?" "No. I think...I don't know how, but I think he's connected to you. That's why I had to pull you in here, instead of just crashing the page." The sinking got faster. "So...I can't leave?" Jack rubbed his neck uncomfortably, looking at the floor. "Until we can figure out how to trap him again...no." You wished he hadn't used the word trap. He walked back over and put an arm around you. "We'll figure it out, okay? I'll get you home. I promise." You nodded numbly. Just a dream, you kept repeating to yourself. Just a dream. But still, the idea was terrifying. You'd loved the idea of him when you'd thought it was jut that: an idea. You'd even hyped him up all the way through October, hunting through videos for moments, liking gifsets and theories on tumblr. You'd never considered how it would be to meet him. You hoped you never did. You could almost still hear him singing.

"One, two Anti's coming for you..."

“C’mon little dude, you can trust me.”

Just a quick edit because I could not let the screenshot of Jack reaching out go

...

HE IS S I G N I N G HELP!! HE'S TRYING TO GET US TO HELP HIM

Announcement!

So I originally set up this account to be my Doctor Who Fic blog, but I thought why not make it a general fic blog, as I’m writing a lot more Supernatural at the moment? So I’m going to be posting a couple of my SPN fics here. Lemme know what you think of them!

Halos and Hellspawn

Pairing: Cas/Reader

Rating: PG

Fighting demons was hard enough. Fighting this one? You weren't sure if you could.

He relaxed against the chair, hands cuffed behind his back. His blue eyes, those familiar, normally beautiful blue eyes, were full of amusement to see the pain in yours. The trench coat was resting across the back of a chair just outside of the devil's trap. He looked wrong, almost naked without it.

Of course, he looked wrong anyway. This wasn't Castiel.

He'd done it to save you. The demon was aiming for you, and Cas caught the smoke, meaning to smite it. But he was too weak, with his fading grace, and so instead just redirected it. And now...

"So, doll-face," the demon sighed in mock boredom, "how long before you realize there's nothing you can do to get me out of here?" He tapped Cas's foot and put a smirking smile on his face again. You didn't reply. "Oh, don't give me that," he mock pouted, "not the silent treatment. You might as well get to like me, because I'm not going anywhere."

"You are."

"She speaks!" He feigned surprise, then laughed, and it cut you to the core that it sounded like Cas laughing at you. "Oh, darling," he said, drawing out the word, "I'm not."

There was a ringing silence as you reached out and slapped him, hard, across the face. The look of hurt looked so much like Cas that it had you frozen. Then...

"(Y/N)..."

Your heart nearly stopped. "Cas?"

He nodded, struggling. "I don't have long...but...it's me..."

You smiled disbelievingly, suddenly dropping to your knees beside him and cupping his face. "Cas...you can fight him, you can do this-"

"No. I can't, I'm not..." he paused, fighting. "I don't have long. Please...closer..."

You leaned in, desperate for him to stay, tears in your eyes. "Please Cas, please..." He smiled weakly. His eyes flicked to your lips. "Before...I'm gone...please..."

Tears streaming down your face, you leaned in, eyes fluttering closed and a slight sob escaping. You could feel his breath on your lips...

You stumbled as the chair was kicked back and Cas grunted, "NO!"

The demon had shock written on its face. Slowly, you stood. "You tricked me."

The demon smiled again, but something was off. "Of course I did. But you wouldn't kiss me if I was me, now would you?" You frowned, studying the demon. Was it...nervous? And why was it shocked?

But why would it push you away?

You smiled slightly as it dawned on you. "But Cas did fight back."

"You're crazy," it scoffed. You laughed, and it scowled. "Stop. It wasn't him, I was messing with you. It was me. He can't fight me. He can't!"

"He can't?" you said, throwing its mockery back at it, "or you didn't think he would?" You laughed again as the demon roared angrily, then you knelt again, leaning close. "Cas, I know you can hear me," you muttered, "fight him, c'mon, come back to me. Kick him out."

The demon jerked suddenly, then growled again. You put your hand over his and it tried to throw you off, but you just caught his hand. "Cas, come back. Fight. It's all on you, I know you can do it." It spit in your face, and you blinked and wiped it off just as it jerked violently again, and yelled in pain. You put a hand on his sweating face as it glared at you. But there was a spark in his eyes. "Castiel, you're an angel. You're stronger than this and you know it.

I believe in you."

"He's a selfish bastard!" the demon screamed furiously, jerking so violently that you had to back up a pace, "he's doing this to show who's stronger! To punish me! He doesn't care about you! He's fighting because you disgust him so much he'd never touch you!"

"I'm sorry, Cas," you said evenly before slapping the demon again. It yelled out, and just at the end of the scream you thought you heard him say, "More!"

"You say something?"

"No!" it cried desperately. You grinned in triumph. "Sorry, Cas, I'm really sorry." You slapped him again. It hissed and spit. You hit. It hissed. You hit. It hissed.

This wasn't enough. You frowned, then steeled yourself and grabbed the demon's face as it yelled defiantly. You looked into it's eyes, into Cas's eyes and spoke to Cas. "You fight this off. Come back to me, Wings."

Then you kissed him.

The demon bit your lip and fought to pull back, but you didn't let him go. Suddenly a hand was on your cheek and Cas was speaking against your lips. "Move. Get back." You flung yourself back and watched as Cas started to glow bright blue. It became blindingly bright and you covered your eyes. There was a piercing scream.

Then the light was gone, and Cas thudded back against the chair, eyes closed, still.

"Cas?" You uncovered your eyes. "Castiel!" You pulled yourself up next to him and ran your thumb across his cheek. "Cas? Cas, please, come on, wake up!"

His eyes fluttered open again. He coughed, then grunted, "Thank you."

You hugged him tightly, half sobbing, half laughing. And surprisingly, he hugged you back.

Even more surprisingly, he grabbed your face and kissed you, hard.