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little-coffins4 · 3 years ago

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Dinner

(Heavy content ahead! Implications of rape/non-con and such other themes.)

Finney was different.

At least, that’s what he said. To be frank, Finney wouldn’t usually be inclined to believe Albert– or Al, as he had begun to insist upon– about anything. But as far as he’s aware, he is right. After all, he’s still alive. Albert had killed the others shortly after their captures. A few days, a week at most between the day he’d grabbed them and the day he’d gutted them. But here Finney was, nearly six months later, still trapped in that shithole.

God really must hate him. Perhaps it was his retribution for not believing in Him. If it is, he's not really making a convincing argument for Himself.

In this time, Albert had made some… improvements, if you could consider them such. He’d gifted Finney with all sorts of items to decorate the dingy basement he now called home. The phone still remained hung on the wall; Albert had tried taking it down once and for all, but Finney had put up enough of a fight that he just let it be. He finally had bedding, which was quite the blessing. It was still painfully cold down there, enough to numb his fingers and toes at night if not covered up, but the blanket helped mitigate it.

He’d also given him a TV. It had no colour, a simple small, black and white television box, but it was his first glimpse into the outside world in so long, that he just found himself so… transfixed by it. He could watch what he pleased, Saturday morning cartoons, cheesy action movies, those horror flicks that his father would’ve beaten him for watching… He was free to view whatever. None of those, however, were the first thing he watched when he got the television. No, the first thing he watched was the news. Were they still looking for him? Plastering his face everywhere? Would he see teary-eyed interviews with his father and sister, neighbours or, hell, schoolmates?

Instead, he saw none of the above. Each day Finney turned the TV on to the news, he was met with varying different topics, but rarely was he and his abduction among them. Recent car accidents, a few natural disasters outside of town, but never anything on the progress of the search for him.

A few weeks into having this new luxury, Finney found out exactly why he hadn’t seen anything about himself. They had declared him dead. He was just another victim– a sixth boy, taken and assumed dead. No body to speak of just like the others, and with the length of time he’d been gone without a trace… They had assumed the worst.

They weren’t looking for him, alive at least. They were more concerned about possible future victims than anything. They didn't know that Finney was a current and perhaps future victim. That he hadn't yet ended up buried or burned or dumped wherever that freak put the others.

He was still in danger every single day, and nobody even knew it. They had moved on.

His odds were worsened at the arrest of John Wayne Gacy. The nation all had their eyes on him and him alone, locating the bodies of the thirty-three missing boys and young men. Suddenly, six missing boys were not as interesting, as captivating to the ever wandering public eye. That case took precedent, and Finney… Finney knew that he wasn’t going to be found.

Finney was stuck, whether he liked it or not. He wasn’t getting out. Away from Albert.

That is besides the point. It’s a topic better not dwelled on.

Later on in his stay, Finney learned that the person in the house was Albert’s brother. He’d lost his job and home to a nasty habit of his, and Albert had no choice but to let him into his home. He’d managed to get him out eventually when he was stable enough to keep a shitty little apartment, but until then Albert rarely visited him.

Finney preferred that. Less Albert, he means.

When his brother had gone, however, at very select times of the evening and night he would let him upstairs. He could finally bath regularly, though Albert always insisted upon being present to keep an eye on him. He didn’t like it. But he needed to bathe, even just every once in a while, so eventually he gave in and just bathed with him in the room. Thankfully his dignity was preserved just a tad, as he allowed Finney to pull the shower curtain in place, but he wasn’t so lucky when it came to drying off and dressing.

The fork Finney held clicked against his teeth as he cautiously took another bite of the dinner Albert had made. He’d cooked spaghetti, using a sauce that came from a can topped with grated marble cheese, but after mostly eating bland scrambled eggs for so long… It was one of the best things he’d ever tasted. As much as he wanted to scarf it all down, Finney refrained. After all, there Albert was, sat across from him at the table, staring at him intently.

Tonight he wore the mask that only covered his lower face, watching him with eyes that drank in his every movement, no matter how bland or uninteresting it may be.

He’d never get used to it. The staring.

He woke up semi-regularly to Albert in the basement, watching him in silence. He wasn’t exactly sure what the look on his face meant at the beginning, but since then he’d realised.

It was admiration, affection, love, whatever you may call it.

It was disturbing in the truest sense of the word. It felt so… wrong. He shouldn’t love him, care for him, admire him! He’d abducted him, taken him off the street and away from his family, away from his sister! He’d torn his life to shreds, and yet there he was, watching him from across the small dinner table with eyes far too soft then they had any right to be.

It was disgusting. Albert was disgusting. He made Finney feel gross every time he looked at him, made his skin crawl with unease and disdain.

“How is it?” Albert finally spoke. He ran his hand through the back of his hair, maintaining his attention on Finney.

For a moment, Finney debated whether or not he should answer. He could ignore him, pretend he hadn’t heard a word he’d said. Or he could insult him, say it was the worst thing he’d ever eaten. But Albert was too unpredictable. He could simply give him a hurt look and go quiet, or he could yell, scream and perhaps even get violent.

He decided to go with the far more palatable response of, “It’s… fine.”

Albert nods and smiles. At least, he thinks he’s smiling. The way his eyes crinkle at the edges give it away.

“Good, that’s good! I’m glad you like it!” His voice was light, floaty, even. His tone of voice so often varies, and Finney never knows how he’ll sound next. Will his voice be a low, agitated rumble? Or will he be cheery, childish, almost? The masks are a bit of an indicator, he’s found. Still, he can’t say that he knows for sure.

Finney hadn’t said he’d liked it. He doesn’t bother to correct him on that, however. That nutcase can think whatever he pleases.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind. You know, now that the idiot is gone, you and I have this whole house to ourselves, you know? I can cook some nicer meals for you. No more scrambled eggs!”

That, at least, was a good sign. Finney hadn’t particularly minded scrambled eggs before his abduction, but now… he’d prefer to never eat it again for the rest of his life.

“... Does that mean I won’t have to be in the basement as much?”

It was the smallest, barest hint of hope. He’d thought he’d had it sucked dry, but the idea that he could be upstairs more often, closer to the front door and windows… An escape could potentially be possible.

“Well…” Albert began thoughtfully, twirling a strand of long hair in front of his face. “I think it could be possible. I’ll have to keep an eye on you, of course. You may be a good boy, Finney, but good boys still act naughty sometimes.”

Finney couldn’t help the way his face twitched at that.

Albert giggled.

What a fucking lunatic.

Finney took in a long, deep breath before sighing. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Albert echoed, voice carrying a questioning lilt.

“I said okay. To you keeping an… eye on me, or whatever.”

Albert reached across the table. Instinctually, Finney wanted to duck away from his hand, to shy away from his touch. Still, he fought back the instinct and sat rigid. Albert ran his fingers through his curls, in a way not too dissimilar to what he'd done on the first day he’d been here. Once he’d been content with playing with his hair, Albert’s hand slid down from the top of his head to rest on his cheek, touching him with such gentleness it was off-putting. His thumb rubbed just beneath his eye and along the cheekbone, touch feather light.

There he was, looking at him again with that filthy look again. The adoration, admiration, love, whatever. Whichever word you chose to describe it with, was a disservice to the word itself. The expression was a derogatory perversion of love. A sullied version conjured by a man with a mind which didn’t quite work right. Neural pathways that didn’t connect the way they should, forming a skewed worldview and understanding of physical and emotional connection.

It made him feel dirty. Albert made Finney feel dirty.

“You really are different from those other boys, Finney Shaw.”

#finney blake #finney shaw #the grabber #the black phone #dark fic #horror #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction

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little-coffins4 · 3 years ago

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Man, I'm so behind on Christory. I really need to fix that. Time to watch, uh... 80 something hours of Chris documentaries?

#chris chan #sonichu

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little-coffins4 · 3 years ago

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Wow, this looks incredible!

“If you try to touch me I’ll scratch your face.”

Finney looks like a terrified and angry kitty while saying this line.

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little-coffins4 · 3 years ago

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THANK YOU! This is explained perfectly!

Fandom Policing and the Black Phone (Long Post)

So, there’s been a lot of various drama in the tags about the Grabber and what type of content is/is not appropriate to write (GrabberxReader, kids, etc.), and since this is tumblr, I’m going to use this as an opportunity to give my two cents that no one asked for. Fair warning: This is going to be a long post.

The Grabber is, canonically, sexually interested in the boys he abducts. The screenwriter stated that the Grabber molests the kids. They don’t show it directly because to do so would be tacky and exploitative, but within the context of the narrative, it happened. The movie itself has plenty of subtext that heavily alludes to his sexual interest, which has already been discussed at length in other places on this site. I’ve seen some people try to deny or downplay it or say that it “wasn’t clear” (it was), and to do so just comes across as willful blindness or wishful thinking.

That being said, this is fanfiction. Writers have the freedom to change the characterizations or pick and choose what to include or not include in their fics. This is not something new and revolutionary to the Black Phone; the vast majority of fandoms whitewash villain characters to varying degrees in order to make them more palatable for the types of stories the writers want to tell. Fandom has traditionally been a space for girls/women to explore their sexuality, and the daily puritanical moralizing of people going “Ummm, did you know he’s a PEDOPHILE? Wtf is wrong with the people simping for him???” is just plain weird to me. I’m not sure if it’s just teenagers and/or people new to tumblr or fandom in general who are doing this, because anyone who’s been here for a while knows what they're getting into when they use this site. Tumblr is the birthplace of Wincest and Onceler thirst. Don’t act shocked if you find a bunch of horny girls/women in the tags. If you’re scandalized by the existence of fiction that you are morally opposed to, then use a different website or block the relevant tags.

Now I’m going to move onto the second type of moralizing I’ve seen. Another issue that seems to be causing a bit of a stir is the idea of writing fics about the victims. “About the victims” is phrased purposefully vague, as I’ve seen this objection encompass a range from explicit material, to non-explicit material that merely alludes to something happening, to non-explicit material that simply depicts a romantic relationships between the child characters with zero references to anything beyond the platonic.

In regards to the complaining about relationships between underage characters (ex. VancexTeenageReader, RobinxFinney), for anyone who’s been to middle/high school, it should not come as a surprise to hear of someone experiencing romantic or (as they get older) sexual attraction to a classmate. I didn’t think this would need to be said, but apparently it does: People don’t experience romantic/sexual attraction for the first time on the day they turn 18. Finney has feelings for Donna in the canon movie. If you look at the vast majority of books/tv shows/movies/video games etc., relationships between underage characters happen in the vast majority of them, and the reason they happen is because it reflects real life. I'm curious if the people who complain when fanfic writers write about fictional teenagers in relationships also complain when directors and writers of professional movies/shows/etc show fictional teenagers in relationships.

Now, let’s talk about the Grabber (again). I’ve seen the thought expressed in a couple different places that “it’s worse to write fics showing the Grabber being a pedo, and people who write those stories are the people the fandom police should really watch out for.” This is usually mentioned as some kind of (weak and unnecessary) defense for GrabberxReader fics, and is a line of reasoning that honestly baffles my mind.

As I mentioned earlier, the Grabber physically, mentally, and sexually abuses these children. Like it or not, and regardless of whether it fits your headcanons or not, that’s the reality, and it’s bizarre and hypocritical to suggest that people who write content focusing on showing a child’s trauma or the effects of trauma are somehow inherently less moral than people who write GrabberxReader fic. That trauma is what the entire movie is about. The Grabber being a pedo is not some “fun fact” bit of trivia the writers came up with after the movie was made: it’s a core component of his character that drives his motivation and actions throughout the movie and the short story. It’s portrayed as being absolutely horrifying in canon, and I have yet to encounter a fanfic where the victims’ captivity is portrayed as anything other than that. People who write fics addressing that the children were abused are simply extrapolating from what the film provides and exploring and expanding on the thoughts of the characters and those situations. Depiction of something (or reference to it) does not equate to endorsement. Nabokov did not want or expect anyone to support Humbert or his sick actions when writing Lolita, for example. Don’t be shocked that people write fanfic about children experiencing abuse if the canon plot is literally about children experiencing abuse.

Furthermore, I want to remind everyone of the literary/theatrical concept of the Fourth Wall. When people write fanfic, they’re not imagining the actors themselves in these situations, but rather fictional characters that happen to share the same likeness of the actors. The actors get paid to physically represent the character and convey the character’s personality/emotions to the audience. The Grabber, Finney, Robin, etc. don’t actually exist outside the realm of our thoughts. No real people were harmed, both during the course of making the movie (which includes canonical violence of all types) and when people write fic. Likewise, when people are reading fanfic, there’s a separation from what the characters go through and what we would want to experience in reality. The real-life reader would hopefully not want to actually experience some of the things or feel the same way the reader-protagonist does in the stories. I’ve never met any of these tumblr authors, but I would bet my entire life savings that they would not want to date a serial killer or harm children in real life.

And finally, for the people complaining about how the Black Phone tag is full of Grabber thirst and how there should be more meta and discussions about the movie itself, there’s absolutely nothing stopping you from starting one of those conversations. Go ahead and make a post analyzing the movie. Be the change you want to see in the world.

TL;DR: None of this is real and everyone needs to lighten up.

#the black phone #the grabber #finney blake

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little-coffins4 · 3 years ago

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The bottom mask only was my favourite look of his in the film

He is so perfect..

#the black phone #the grabber

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little-coffins4 · 3 years ago

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Exactly! It's so obnoxious to see, their moral policing is doing nothing but get on others nerves-- I've even been seeing people that people shouldn't even write fanfiction including The Grabber. No distinction on the content, just... all portrayal of him in fanfiction is bad?

Like, if these people don't like it, they can just, oh I don't know-- ignore it?

And the taaaaaags. You're so right-- go bug people who want to fuck Dylan Klebold or Jeffrey Dahmer, not slasher-fuckers

i get why some of y’all are against people wanting to fuck the grabber but at the end of the day he’s just a fictional character who’s played by a hot dude. like it’s not that deep. that stuff has been happening with horror fans for years and it will continue to happen no matter what. just let people enjoy things ffs

#the black phone #the grabber

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little-coffins4 · 3 years ago

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Plus, let's not pretend that the slasher victims don't tend to be teens as well? Plus, why should you be arbiter of what characters should and shouldn't be considered a slasher? I don't really see him as one, and really, why should it matter that others do? It's not like the other slashers like Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees are morally superior to him... And The Grabber is very clearly not real, and those who enjoy the character/make fan content shouldn't be responsible for those who somehow cannot understand that...

I’m sorry to who ever reads this and doesn’t like what I’m about to say but I’ve gotta keep it real. When I’m searching for slasher fanfics I’m looking for stories on ones that are OBVIOUSLY not real, like Jason vorheese or Micheal Myers.

Not ones about a man called THE GRABBER that KIDNAPS CHILDREN and KILLS THEM!! Also not you know…- P*DOPH*LES!!!!!! Like come on people that isn’t right! The man in the movie ‘The Black Phone’ is literally being thirsted over with people talking about how ‘hot’ he is even though he’s a LITERAL P*DO!!!! Y’all are trying to group him in with other slashers but that man isn’t apart of a slasher, he is a disgusting pervert that y’all want because you’re not separating the actor from the character. Ethan Hawks is hot. Fine as hell, but THE GRABBER, THE KIDNAPPER, THE P*DO, is NOT.

This is reminding me of when people were saying that Billy from Stranger Things was hot even though he was racists and they kept trying to say that he wasn’t racist or were just ignoring the whole, hating Lucas because he was black and the directors or whoever worked on the show concerning that he was supposed to even call Lucas a slur, part. Please start trying to separate the actor from the character because this… is just wrong.

#the black phone #the grabber #slashers #horror

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little-coffins4 · 3 years ago

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Adjustment Takes Time Part 2/2

(Heavy content ahead! Implications of rape/non-con and semi-graphic physical violence.)

Max was gone, finally!

It took a while to actually get him out of the house. Max kept trying to find reasons to stay where he was– it was like he had grown roots. Still, Al made it very clear that since he had a job and had been making a stable income for a month or so, he had enough financial security to rent out an apartment somewhere. Eventually Max had caved, and Al helped him move out, loaded up all his belongings into the back of his van and helped set up his apartment. All in all, the actual moving only took a few days, and it was like a massive burden had been lifted from Al’s shoulders.

Albert does appreciate his brother, really, but his presence could get rather exhausting quickly. Him being gone also meant he could worry just a little less about being caught.

This first thing Albert had done once Max had left, was bring Finney upstairs to have a bath. The boy looked like he wanted to bite his hand off when he offered to help him wash, and pointedly yanked the shower curtain over to obscure himself.

He couldn’t blame him for that. He wouldn’t have wanted help with something like that when he was a boy, even if he had really needed it.

When Al had first moved into the property, he had installed locks on all the doors and windows, no matter how odd it may appear to outsiders. It served its purpose, and briefly Albert left Finney on his own locked in the restroom while he gathered some clean clothing for him. He’d made sure that he wasn’t gone for too long, lest Finney accidentally hurt himself or try to act out of line.

Once he’d finished bathing, Finney had tried any and every trick in the book to get Al to leave the room while he dried off and dressed. He begged and pleaded, he shouted and cussed, but Al remained steadfast in staying. Eventually he had tired and gave in, drying himself off and dressing as quickly as possible.

His shyness was quite endearing to Al.

He needed to wade into things slowly, safely, so afterwards Albert brought Finney back downstairs. While he wanted to keep the boy out longer, he knew he couldn’t yet. It was too risky, he needed to carefully make his way towards that point. He'd expose him to more and more time outside of the basement slowly over time.

Al couldn’t fully trust Finney yet, but he could at least start trying. He was sure he'd eventually be able to in the future.

That attempt at building trust, allowing the boy out of the basement and upstairs was what eventually led to Finney and Al sitting in the living room, watching a movie together.

Finney sat beside him on the couch, watching the TV with split attention. Al wasn’t stupid– he could feel Finney’s eyes burning into him, but he chose to ignore it and focus on the shitty romance flick playing instead. Finney had crammed himself to the very furthest end of the couch from him, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. In a word, he looked terribly uncomfortable with the whole situation. That would, of course, change eventually. Finney would realise just how much Al was doing for him, how he was bettering his life, and he’d begin to appreciate him.

Until then, though, Al would need to exercise a kind of patience he’d never really had before. A type of patience that had never been extended to him.

Something particularly amusing happened on screen, and Albert laughed a bit. It was mostly just a huff of breath, really, as it really didn’t warrant real laughter. Finney shifted in place, and from the corner of Al’s eye, he saw him put his feet flat on the ground before leaning back into the couch cushion, arms crossed tightly against his chest.

It was a lot less of a guarded stance, though he still looked uncomfortable. It was a start. Al couldn't help but smile when he saw it.

Al reached to his side and planted his hand into the boy's hair, tousling it a little. Finney flinched, but didn’t attempt to flee his touch.

“You hungry, huh? It’s not much, but I have some bagged popcorn in the pantry.”

Finney watched him in silent bewilderment for a few seconds, before shrugging. Albert took that as a yes, smiled once more and got up from his spot on the couch.

He kept his ears peeled as he left the room for the kitchen, he paid close attention to any noise he could hear while he opened the bag and dumped a portion of it into a plastic bowl. By the time he got back, hardly a minute later, Finney was in the same place he’d been beforehand, still watching TV. He didn’t look any more nervous then he had when he left, so with a pleased hum Al fell back into his spot, putting the bowl of popcorn between them.

“Here, don’t go too crazy on them. Save some for me!” He teased, to which Finney side-eyed him and didn’t reach for any.

After a few more minutes and Finney still hadn’t taken any, Al went for some. It was just a small handful, and he thought that perhaps it would show him that it was alright to take some. Maybe he was shy about eating in front of others? He did always look particularly uneasy while eating his dinner in front of Al. It was something they could work on together.

Suddenly, and without prior warning, Finney struck him. It was an objectively weak hit, but his fist had collided with the mask that covered the upper part of his face, jamming the hard plastic inwards. Al’s face throbbed and his eyes watered, he knew for a fact that he’d look much akin to a raccoon after this.

Through the haze of confusion, pain and anger, Al noticed Finney leaping to his feet to make a break for it. With a low growl, Albert himself leapt forward as well, grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt. Finney twisted and writhed, attempting to escape his hold and run away, but Al had a good grip on him. In a surprising move, Finney fell backwards onto the ground. Al grabbed him by the wrists, only to have the air knocked out of his lungs when Finney kicked upwards with all his might. Albert lost his hold on his arms, and Finney squirmed away, crawling across the living room floor. Still out of breath, Al lunged back on top of him, pressing his forearm to the back of his neck, and using the other hand to yank one of the boy's arms back and behind his back.

For a moment, Al stood still, taking in deep, deliberate breaths and refilling his lungs. Beneath him Finney was still trying to squirm away, but Al likely weighed twice Finney did. His weight itself was enough to keep the boy pinned, but the way he’d cranked his arm behind him in a painful position alongside the arm bearing down on the back of his neck limiting oxygen intake, left him unable to really even try.

“What. The. Fuck. The fuck were you trying to do, huh, Finney?!” Al’s voice rose in volume but fell in pitch. Even through his rage, he knew he couldn’t get too loud. The neighbours or somebody passing by outdoors might hear, and he’d be fucked if they did.

Albert pulled the arm he’d been pressing into Finney’s neck away, but before the boy could feel any form of relief he took a handful of those nice curls he enjoyed so much and pulled, shaking his head around as he continued to growl. “I do so many goddamn nice things for you, and you just don’t give a fuck! Just like those other boys! They didn’t appreciate a thing I did for them, and well, look where that got them!”

“You didn’t do shit!” Finney snapped back in a strained voice that broke around the words. “You– you took us from our families! You killed them! I want to go home, I just fucking want to go home!”

“You aren’t going home! Either you get over that shit, or I fucking slit your throat and do us both a favour!”

Albert released Finney’s arm and hair, flipped him onto his back and grabbed him hard by the face. He avoided grabbing him too close to the mouth– he knew that Finney bit when cornered, and he’d prefer not to have to deal with patching up a bite wound. The boy's hands snapped up, scratching and pulling at his hand, but he didn’t budge. He slammed his head against the carpeted floor beneath them, not too hard, but enough to temporarily daze the boy. From his pants back pocket, Al retrieved a switchblade. It wouldn’t make the most effective weapon when killing someone, but it was sharp and that was all he needed. He flipped it open, raised it high enough to give it some good momentum, and he– he–

Finney hadn’t made a peep. He had scrunched his eyes shut and was very obviously holding his breath. His eyelashes had liquid gathered on them– tears, he noted. He wasn’t struggling, wasn’t screaming, he was just laying there with his eyes shut and a death grip on the wrist of the hand holding his face in place.

It was a pathetic display of acceptance and submission, but unlike how he’d felt about the other boys' reactions before he’d killed them, he wasn’t disgusted. It didn’t fill him with rage or hatred.

–he stabbed the knife down hard into the carpeted floor beside Finney's head. The blade was going to be all kinds of fucked up after that, but he could just sharpen it again later.

“Just– fuck! Things were alright, they were fine! They were fine and you went and pulled this bullshit!” Al was still seething, but he’d calmed himself enough to grab the knife and get up off of the boy and step back, to begin pacing and pulling at his hair.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Finney scramble into the corner of the room, nearest to the couch. He couldn’t see the boy, hidden by the couch, but he knew he was still there.

“I thought– I thought I could start trusting you, but I guess I was wrong!”

“I never asked you to trust me!” Finney snapped back from his hiding place, voice accusatory and growing higher in pitch. “I never asked for any of this!”

Al thudded towards Finney, grabbed the arm of the couch and shoved it away, opening up the space the boy had wedged himself in some more to make him more accessible. Finney tried to crawl away, but he was all but caged in and Albert had little difficulty catching him once more.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME, DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He screamed, and panic boiled in Al’s gut. He was being too loud. He was being too loud! He could go scream his throat raw in the basement, but not upstairs!

Sampson started to bark and howl, which thankfully overpowered the racket Finney was making. If anyone came and questioned all the noise, he could blame it on the dog.

Al grabbed Finney by the ankle, dragging him forward. The boy reached to his side and grabbed the nearest thing– which unfortunately was a tall lamp. It came with him and fell to the ground. The bulb broke and went out, and the only light that illuminated the room was seeping in through the kitchen and what was cast by the TV.

Finney swung at Al’s face once more, but with him laying on his back on the ground, he wasn't able to put as much power behind it. Albert caught Finney’s wrist and wrenched it away from his face. This time, it was Al who swung, and he was a hell of a lot bigger and stronger than Finney. The hit met the boy's lower face, who coughed and sputtered. When his fist came away wet and warm, he didn’t have to guess why.

The boy rolled onto his side, one arm still restrained by Al while the other propped itself above his head, trying to guard himself from more blows. Al wasn’t thinking straight though– he was angry, so fucking angry, and he just wanted to make him hurt. In that moment he wouldn’t have cared if he’d started seeing brains, if he’d beat in and disfigured the face he’d been so drawn to. He just wanted Finney to shut up, to stop making noise and to stop moving.

The first hit to Finney’s arm had it nearly folding. It wasn’t even a matter of whether or not he could take the hits pain-wise, he was hitting him with such ferocity that his arm was being jostled in and out of the way, leaving his head and face open to more blows.

On the second hit, Finney seemed to realise his attempts at guarding his head were well and truly pointless. Instead, he threw his shaky hand into the air, shoving at Al’s shoulder.

It didn’t stop him. He barely even noticed the touch.

What he did notice, though, was that Finney had quieted down. The only noise that came from him was the popping of bloody bubbles forming on his lips.

Albert took a long, good look at what he had gone and done.

His fists were split and bloody– though he figured most of that blood wasn’t his own. Blood had gotten onto his nice carpet as well, a soft beige with dark brown patterns. He’d need to find a way to clean that up, and if his attempts weren’t successful, well… he’d need a new carpet. Finney’s face, which was half pressed into the carpet, looked pretty banged up. Al grabbed the boy by his chin, the blood on his hand and fingers smearing onto his skin. He turned his face to look at him, ignoring the sounds he made. Soft and quiet, they were wet and whiney, gasps and audible swallows as he looked up at him through wide eyes. He could already see that his face was beginning to swell and bruise. He was surprised it was setting in so quickly.

Finney’s lips parted, and for a moment, Al feared he may have chipped or even knocked out some teeth. Thankfully, though, the boy's tongue darted out in what seemed to be a subconscious reaction and wiped blood and broken skin from his lips off of his front teeth. He couldn’t tell if that blood had come from his mouth itself or from his nose. He watched as blood oozed sluggishly from both nostrils, and decided it could be either or. It didn’t even really matter, now did it?

Absent-mindedly, Albert grabbed Finney’s forearm and rubbed soft, soothing circles into it with his thumb. The boy sniffled and winced. The wetness that had previously just been beading up on his eyelashes was now streaking down his cheeks, mingling with the blood, diluting it to a soft pink in places.

“Ohh… Finney, don’t cry.” Al whispered softly, voice a few octaves higher. “No, no I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promised you I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I?”

Finney didn’t answer verbally, just clenched his eyes shut and let his lower lip wobble.

“Hey, hey here,” carefully, Al worked him up into a sitting position before wrapping his arms around him nice and tight. He rocked them both from side to side, tucked the boy's head beneath his chin and pressed quick, chaste kisses to the crown of his head. A sob bubbled up from Finney’s lips, and Albert shushed him quietly. “It’s okay, it’s okay… You’re okay.”

Al ran his hand up and down Finney’s back, rubbing soothing patterns into his ribs. He felt every hitch of his back, and the expansions and depressions of his chest as he sucked in frantic breaths between his weeping.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… let’s get you cleaned up in a few minutes, huh? Then we can get you down to bed. You need a nice night of sleep, and you’ll feel as good as new tomorrow!” The boy didn’t speak, nod or give him any form of confirmation that he’d heard. Still, Al had a feeling he had.

It was nice, holding Finney like that. One day, he hoped that instead of pulling his hands to his chest or dropping them to his sides, that maybe Finney would hug him back. It’d be nice.

It was just a test run. It was just a test run. It failed now, but he could try again in the future.

While Finney may be a good boy compared to the others, good boys could still be very naughty sometimes.

But still, a small niggling part of his mind whispered, maybe he had been a little too rough with him that night.

#the black phone #the grabber #finney blake #finney shaw #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #dark fic #horror

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