creepythingsfrom

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The Black Phone (2021)

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Black Phone 2

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@hallowseve1031 👀

this took a little too long,

I was inspired by an tbp fanfic called “two years, too late” by HallowsEve1031,prosto_tsyharka on ao3

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Finney — The Black Phone (2021)

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okay, this is kind of an extension of my thoughts from my previous post.

we all know that finney and gwen’s mother heard voices — the same ones that told her to do “bad things,” which drove her insane and eventually led to tragedy.

and now, i can’t shake the feeling that in the sequel, the grabber might become that very same or a very similar voice for finney. the voice that will torment him, forcing him to obey and carry out commands he doesn’t want to do.

also, i really like thinking that finney and gwen sort of “inherited” different parts from their mom , like each of them got their own little dose of her “abilities.”

gwen – dreams and physical interaction within them with the world of the dead (?)

and finney — the voices, the hallucinations (?)

i just imagine these are little pieces of one scary puzzle, scattered between them.

it’s not a theory or anything, i’m just honestly really hoping this is how they do it in the sequel 😭

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don’t tempt me bestie 😈 it’s already happening…

i seriously hope the grabber uses gwen to pressure finney. like, “do what i say or something happens to her” and this isn’t just a threat – we’ve already seen he’s able to reach her. that would be perfectly disgusting. psychologically cruel. perfect for their dynamic. toy with him, but don’t touch. make him break on his own

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this reblog caption pushed me to finally write a fic about what i talked about here. i’m already working on the draft 👀

i seriously hope the grabber uses gwen to pressure finney. like, “do what i say or something happens to her” and this isn’t just a threat – we’ve already seen he’s able to reach her. that would be perfectly disgusting. psychologically cruel. perfect for their dynamic. toy with him, but don’t touch. make him break on his own

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i seriously hope the grabber uses gwen to pressure finney. like, “do what i say or something happens to her” and this isn’t just a threat – we’ve already seen he’s able to reach her. that would be perfectly disgusting. psychologically cruel. perfect for their dynamic. toy with him, but don’t touch. make him break on his own

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final chapter of two years too late has been posted!! go give it a read!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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The Grabber's Mask in The Black Phone 2 (2025)

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shoutout to tiktok for absolutely ruining my sanity by recommending the black phone two years ago.

best mistake of my life.

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bruce: what happened to your nose?

finney: i used it to break some guys fist

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new tbp chaos just dropped 👀 go follow my bestie’s new blog!

vance: i fucking hate albert shaw

bruce: watch your language, griffin is with us

vance: my bad

vance: i fucking hate—

vance: *covers griffin’s ears*

vance: albert shaw

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🔪 THE BLACK PHONE FANFIC MASTERLIST 🔪

by @creepythingsfrom ( AO3: prosto_tsyharka)

dark fiction / horror / trauma / captivity

NOT a ship. NOT romanticized.

✴️ SERIES: NO WAY OUT ✴️

Finney’s life in captivity is a string of days that blur together — moments of false comfort, quiet terror, and silent endurance.

There are days that hurt more, and days that pass almost unnoticed.

But every day, he wakes up to the same walls, the same chain, the same quiet reminder: there is no way out.

🔸 “Lesson Learned”

“Finney clenched his fists, his breathing growing ragged, heart hammering against his ribs. He knew what he had to say.

"I... I deserve it..." he choked out.”

🔸 “Let it heal”

“Now, my boy... it’s time for you to thank me. Properly.”

Finney froze. His fingers tightened around the flashlight. Just for a moment and the emptiness returned to his eyes.

🔸 “Little keepsake”

“Every boy leaves something behind in this house. A little keepsake.

You, for example — you’ve got a wonderful smile, Finney. So let it stay here.”

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📼 STANDALONE BLACK PHONE FICS

🔸“Still mine”

“Dead is just a word,” he says.

Finney should have known better than to pick up the phone.”

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—

🕯REQUESTS + PROMPTS

I’m open to writing new one-shots, scenes, or concepts especially focused on:

✦ Finney & The Grabber (Albert) dynamics

✦ psychological horror

✦ emotionally twisted survival

💬 Feel free to send me prompts or ask box ideas. If it fits the tone, I just might write it

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Black phone 2

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Little keepsake

Characters: Finney Blake, The Grabber (Albert Shaw)

Tags: Psychological Horror, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Grooming, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Captivity, Emotional Trauma, Possessive Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence

Finney sat on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, hugging them tightly with his thin, trembling arms. His slender fingers clutched at the fabric of his pajamas, as if searching for something to hold on to.

The tray with grilled cheese sandwiches and scrambled eggs sat untouched on the nightstand. It smelled good — melted cheese, fresh bread but not even a crumb could make it past his throat. His stomach twisted with nausea, and all he could feel was the sticky filth on his skin, someone else’s filth, soaked in after the morning’s touches, unwanted and unbearable.

The door to the room was left slightly open, and through the half-dark came the distant sounds of water: the faucet running, the splash of water, heavy footsteps.

Albert was fussing around in the bathroom — preparing it for him. Like always.

Finney let out a heavy breath. His cheek dropped to his knees, but his eyes stayed fixed on the little shelf on the wall.

There were all kinds of little things on it: a chipped decorative mug, a Christmas card with a reindeer, old books with torn covers. But among all those objects, one always made his eyes sting with tears — a small wooden picture frame, painted sky blue.

Inside his photograph.

The very photo Albert had carefully cut out from the morning newspaper that announced his disappearance.

His face, his smile, stuck there like some kind of exhibit. A trophy.

Finney closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at his face anymore that bright smile, the wide brown eyes, the carefree expression that now felt distant, unreachable.

He kept hearing the same words in his head, again and again, spoken in that soft, deceitful voice:

“Almost done!” Albert had said with a cheerful smile as the photo — a little crooked was placed behind the glass. His gaze shifted to Finney, who was sitting quietly on the floor, eyes downcast. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

He turned the frame so Finney could see his own image.

“Every boy leaves something behind in this house. A little keepsake.”

“You, for example — you’ve got a wonderful smile, Finney. So let it stay here.”

Albert gently ran a finger across the photo, as if he were touching something fragile, untainted, and delicate.

“Oh, that smile…” Albert stretched his lips into a smile of his own, like he was truly touched. His voice was warm, almost cheerful in a way that felt rehearsed like a father proudly showing off a photo from the family album. “Just the same as the day I chose you. So honest… so tender it makes my heart ache.”

Finney slowly looked up, as if silently begging Albert to stop.

“And you came up to me yourself, remember?” he went on, his tone still light, almost nostalgic. “So polite, such a well-mannered boy. You reached out to me. You wanted to help. Such kindness.”

His voice carried that sticky admiration — fake, but spoken with the softness of someone reminiscing about something precious.

“I knew right then that you were different… that you were good. Special.”

He let out a soft chuckle, like he was gently scolding a child.

“To be honest, you did make me doubt it for a while … oh, you really did. But… in the end, here you are.”

Albert looked at the photo one last time, like he was gently saying goodbye to who Finney used to be, and left the frame on the shelf among other little things.

Finney tried not to look. Not to remember. Not to feel.

But just one glance at the frame and memory tore him apart from the inside.

He hugged his knees tighter, squeezing them so hard his fingers turned white, trying to hold on to the fragments of the boy he once was.

—

🖇️ This fic is also on AO3