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(Okay, Crepey-Discusses #1: Misogyny in the Creepypasta Fandom)

Imagine if you would, you're a young girl. You're a little awkward, a little shy, you read Creepypasta because it makes you feel cool- Scary Stories you don't have to check out at the library? "Sign me up!" You think.

So, you read one story- you like it. You read another, you like it too. Then, slowly yet surely, you sink into the world of Creepypasta and the Fandom. The fandom is cool and edgy, and then you find out they also do art, and others are creating characters too, so you decide to throw your hat in the ring too!

And.... You get nothing. One fave at the most and then.... Dust. Occasionally, you get a snarky comment about your character being a self insert or the backstory you wrote for her being garbage, but ultimately, it's radio silence. Even when your friend who created a Male Character with a unique design is getting traction.

If you ever experienced this - Welcome to the Creepypasta Fandom because you're one in many who have to deal with this.

(Warning a Long Discussion Below the Cut Read if You're Bored)

Creepypasta Fandom is infamous for many reasons. The stabbings, the edgelords, the shipping, the predators- It has many reasons for people to turn their nose up at them or make fun of them but one I feel like gets ignored the most until recently is The Misogyny.

What do I mean?

Let's first start with Female Creepypastas.

When Creepypasta first started, there was a wide array of characters, yet somehow female characters ended up either being criticized to hell and back or straight up ignored. You'd be more hard pressed to find a female Creepypasta that wasn't used in shipping, and the biggest way some of them became well known and popular were two factors:

Good Art.

Shipped with a Male Creepypasta

I have made note of this in a reblog on a confession, but female creepypastas who become well known more often than not are carried that way through their association with a male killer in some way. Maybe it's not intentional, but the CrP Fandom, like many others, is also nepotistic. Be friends with the right people back then, and your character could shoot up. Ship your character and have them agreed upon to be in a relationship and you're made.

Here is a list you can make just on the basis of being associated with a male killer in some way:

Jane the Killer - Jeff the Killer

Clockwork - Ticci Toby

Nina the Killer - Jeff the Killer and Eyeless Jack

Judge Angels - Bloody Painter

Nurse Ann - CrP Masky

Laughing Jill - Laughing Jack

Suicide Sadie - Kagekao

It doesn't even have to be shipping; They could be rivals, enemies, just friends- Regardless back then if a female character was a male character's arm candy or even had the POTENTIAL to be shipped (Which veterans of the fandom would remember JanexJeff....) they got shot up. And this is bad.

It's bad alone since characters should be able to stand on their own merit, but if you were like me, a kid in this fandom, what it taught you was: "The sexier the better. Female Characters only matter if they look good with a Male Character."

Which brings us to another issue: Sexualization of Female Characters.

There was a common trend mentioned in another confession that I feel has to be brought to attention that most Female Creepypasta Characters were not allowed to look homely nor have different body types. They had to be curvy, they had to be pretty, and they had to be edgy. It's hard to discern why this is, but from what I've gathered and noticed, there were three big reasons for this:

Sex Sells. - It just does; they had to be Hentai Bait because, as we know in this fandom, art does better than writing; Get an artist to draw smut of this character, and she will be known. People will want to learn about her, and people will like what they see.

Shipping - The Fandom only cares if they look hot together. Shipping was pretty shallow back then. It was about the aesthetic not the connection- Hell look at Ticci Toby and Clockwork - "The Ticking Clock" shtick they had- Yeah they had to look hot together but (in my perspective) they had no grounds to be a good ship (at the time and likely even now) and that's sort was the female character's point when standing next to a male killer; be sexy and make them look good.

Slut Shaming Loophole - This is a theory of mine, if you agree let me know, but I am of the belief that the Creepypasta Fandom encouraged people to create 'sexy' female characters just to have a reason to criticize them. It confined people to a box wherein you could only get noticed if your Female Character is sexy/has a great design BUT is still able to be talked down to and looked down on because of these attractive features. Essentially, they wanted it both ways; They only cared if the character looked hot so they could shittalk them to high heaven. There was no winning with a female character.

What this ultimately did, is it put us into a box where, while it may not be intentional, the fandom encourages people to create a male character more than a female character. Ironically, it perpetuates the idea that your female character has less value than a male character or even that you shouldn't even waste your time creating characters unless it's a semi attractive male one.

We actually saw this with Judge Angels and Bloody Painter. Both created by the same creator; A male and a female killer, yet Bloody Painter, the male killer, ended up standing the test of time and being more known than Judge Angels. To this day, you see more content of Bloody Painter than you do Judge Angels (Which is understandable given what'd come out about the creator later on) but fans drive the content and while you can argue Bloody Painter had more going for him. One was paid dust whilst the other gets attention.

This leads us to another point: Female Fans and Female Creators.

So it's no secret that the reason this fandom is still kicking to this day is the fans, and I wouldn't be shocked if female leaning fans are what encourages it. Issue is, even if you're just a fan, you're still undervalued. As a female fan, you could be backing a character from day one, be rooting and encouraging them but because of a precedent set in 2012, people are always going to see you as "the ignorant fangirl", somehow in this fandom you're punished for liking a character even if you helped with a character being well known or are supportive of them. Your value isn't in your genuine support, it's what you offer. And 90% of the time, your art skills speaks more.

And if you're a Female Creator, it doesn't matter how skilled you are as a writer, what new angle you bring to the table, what concepts you introduce, you are still undervalued because somehow, this fandom encouraged bigger male creators to be the 'Say So' on how this thing runs so if you're out of the box you're not important. And Creepypasta Fandom already has an issue with "Canon" so being a unique writer doesn't go far. Like I said, this fandom is very nepotistic. You had to know the right people, and ironically, just like real life, mediocrity and conformity sells better than genuine effort.

But that's scratching the surface; We mentioned Female Characters, we discussed being a Female Fan and Creator, but now we gotta touch on the more serious topics.

Creepypasta Fandom and The Line Between Horror and Snuff

*Warning this is a dark topic so if you read ahead be wary*

So this was actually something I've admittedly been desensitized to, but Creepypasta has been used to disguise a lot of things, and one of the biggest was perpetuating the harming of women.

I've been keeping an eye here, and according to some peeps, Creepypasta has been used as a sort of veil for dark fetishes, mainly harming/killing women. I shouldn't have to really explain why this is fucked up. It's one thing to write scary stories, have your killers be killers, and touch on these things HOWEVER it's another to draw this and get a weird gratification for it. Horror is a very tough balancing act and intentions speak louder. If your intentions go into the direction of harming women, you are contributing to a problem not assisting with it.

Women already have to live in a world where if they smile wrong at someone or use the wrong tone, they can end up on Dateline. People don't go into Creepypasta to be reminded of the very real reality that their lives are at a risk. And for some reason, it seems to always be women being killed as a prop. Kill women for backstory, for character development, to emphasize how bad a character is.

For some reason women are the currency in this fandom and they always have to be either "The Bitch", "The Lover", or "The Lost One". There's never an in between there's never a who they are, it's how they emphasize how dark and imposing someone is. And if you were to follow me on this theory; Women in this fandom are both seen as needed yet disliked. Like I said earlier, the fandom is driven by female fans yet you'd get called out being a fangirl, so in a way these drawings are also to "Put women in their place" to remind female fans who see them that: A. You like a killer and B. You're stupid for it. In a way it uses the intention of horror as a veil to talk down to female fans again.

There is no winning here.

But.... I don't bring this up to gripe and complain. We, as women in this fandom and a community as a whole, it doesn't just have to be females, can do better. Here's how:

Analyze Intentions: What is the message behind this drawing and character? Is it telling us something, or is this character being used as a prop. Is this drawing to emphasize horror or to hide the fact people still hate females. What is the message?

Be Open to Change and Improving Female Characters: If a Female Character has room to be improved on, improve her. STOP sitting on the sidelines, hoping for someone else to do it. You feel like the character can be improved, improve her. Be open to go against the grain and try your hand.

Be Inclusive: Include Female Creepypastas no matter how small, keep them in mind. We aren't kids anymore, we've grown, and it's time we stopped clinging to nostalgia or reservations about characters just because we were insecure kids. Be open to them.

A fandom doesn't change overnight, but if you are conscious and aware, it can lead to better things. Keep that in mind moving forward.

And if you read this far, thank you! I had a blast writing this and am willing to get into it more later on.

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Help out a queer artist this pride month pwease :)

I started posting regularly again on patreon! NEW POSTS 2-3X A WEEK on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays! Initial membership is free, and the higher tiers you subscribe to, the more you get! YAHOO!!!

If you've ever enjoyed my art or writing (I know some of yall have read my fics...) please consider subscribing (again, base membership is completely free!) or at least share the page! While I'm looking for work for the season, this page, commissions and my shop are the main ways I make money. Appreciate it :) <3

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Um So The Ben Lore Got Crazy

This is all @scrollypoly ‘s fault for rambling about their Ben and lore they kick starter this—

1. BOTH Ben’s are in my AU.

2. Ben is a nineteen year old whiz tech/hacker that meets his untimely demise because of his abusive father. B.E.N is, well… an AI spirit thingie.

3. The two would officially meet when Ben is twelve totally not cause I’m salty over the age discourse and everyone is under the impression that B.E.N is an imaginary friend.

4. Ben gives him the name “Clover” because of his green hair.

5. The two form a child/parent relationship cause Clover is one of the only decent guardians in his life.

7. Clover’s the main reason why Ben dyed his hair/gave himself green strips/raccoon tails.

8. He’s got a lil family in the web because the other moon children are there!

That’s everything I got so far it’s almost 3AM I should sleep lmao. But yeee I’m hyped.

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Demon Spawn is about abuse. It's about the never-ending cycle of being abused, becoming the abuser, and going from one abuser to the next. It's about relishing in the ability to inflict pain then turning around and hating yourself for it, just to do it again and again and again.

Demon Spawn is about grief. The grief of never knowing why you were treated the way you were, of never being able to escape no matter how far you run. It's about grieving the normal life you could've had. If only someone had loved enough.

Demon Spawn is about fear. The fear of a death never coming. The fear of those around you turning on you in the blink of an eye, just to be pulled back again by cold cruel hands. The man in the woods watches. He knows your fears. Do you?

Demon Spawn is about exploitation. Of the body, mind, soul. Exploitation of your very being. How much can you give before it's no longer enough? Will it ever be enough?

Demon Spawn is about being your worst. It's about being the bad apple. Stuck at the bottom of the bag, sticky, wet, and rotting. Juices oozing out of the cuts and bruises left behind. Your squishy insides will never appeal to anyone. It's so easy to infect the others. One will eventually ruin the whole bunch. Soon the bag is moldy and stinks. No matter how much you peel away, the apple is still rotten to its core.

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I Made A KateJack Community!

Please feel free to join KateJack My Beloved to share your ideas, headcanons, stories and artwork about the ship or Kate and Jack in general! As well as meet others who also like this rarepair. We'd love to see you there! The invite link can also be found in my pinned post.

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Reading your stuff makes me want to write but I'm lowkey worried I'll be ass at it 💔

you want to know my personal opinion? being ass at writing simply doesn’t exist. sure, you can learn. sure, you can grow. sure, you can learn new words, new metaphors, new ways to structure sentences - but nothing you ever put out will be truly bad. because it’s yours.

I think the same thing about drawing, music, any other art form. Everything is subjective. For every bad thought you have about your own work, there are ten people going “wow. they really get it.”

Van Gogh hated his own work. Most writers you look up to probably criticize themselves to a mind boggling degree. I sure do.

Sometimes I’ll write something that I genuinely think sucks, and yet I’ll post it anyway - because maybe there’s someone out there that resonates with it. And at the end of the day, no matter how “good” you think it is, it’s special simply because no one else could create it. Only you have the thoughts that spark it. Only you have know the words to bring it to life. It’s yours, and you should be proud of that fact.

Just try. Watch yourself grow and be happy simply because you’ve accomplished something.

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TATA Ch. 6: Then Don't Chastise

"So, next time….Tell someone you're going into areas of the House that are dangerous, please. Ah-" Jack's finger rose, to stop Twitch's words. "Someone who isn't Ben. God, I didn't even notice he was talking to you, I was so focused on the guys on their job….Listen, Twitch…You are unstable, a brand new poltergeist, one that is much more powerful than most we've seen. So you really need to remain where others can find you until we know how to keep your entire body from frying half the House." The hand that was placed against Twitch's face, pulling her cheek down so that he may check the whites of her eyes, released its grip. Twitch only stared silently, pupils blown so wide it made that nausea creep its way up Jack's throat with unsettling quickness.

"What oh-so-interesting things did you find?" Ben chittered from atop the white table that usually held various glass vials, all of which had been hastily moved earlier to keep him from knocking them over. He sat with the arches of his feet propped against the edge of the table, knees fanned out and arms dangling between in a way that made him look more like a bird perching than a person sitting.

"A black mirror." Twitch's voice was barely above a whisper.

"A black mirror? In the V hallway? What room was it?" Jack looked surprised, despite having been one of the people to get her from the room.

"She was in 1a. Usually you can't get into that end of the hallway, it's blocked off past 3a and 3b. It's the only hallway not blocked on the west end, but I have no idea how she got into the other end of the hallway from where she could've gotten in. You were literally there, dude." 

"I can never tell what's going on in that end of the House, you know that. Whatever the hell lurks over there fries my brain."

Ben idly scratched at his nose, not ever peeling his eyes away from Twitch the entire time. He ignored Jack's response, keeping his focus on her. "But it certainly wasn't blocked off when we went there. So how exactly did you get over there, Twitch?"

"Don't say my name."

"How did you get in there, Twitch?" Jack reiterated. She huffed, ignoring the self-satisfied snickers that came from the freak on the table.

"I walked. Went through the third hallway and walked all the way back. Saw Ben on the way there, called him a slut, then continued to the back. The staircase was fine other than a few holes. West side was fine. The V hallway wasn't blocked off at all. It was just normal. It had less damage than triple I, honestly. Just dustier. I found the black mirror in the room, passed out. I don't have any other answers for you."

"Okay….please just, stay out of the west wing unless you're asked to go in there. This House has a lot of shit in it, you have yet to even meet most of the Residents here properly, and triple I has a couple ghosts lurking, ones much older than you that you could cause serious harm to you." Jack tried to maintain a meaningful look with her, but Twitch's face showed no evidence of understanding. She simply stared, pointedly ignoring Ben's attempts to lean into her line of sight behind Jack.

"Why is the House built like that?"

"What?" The exasperated sigh that came out of him almost pulled a smirk onto her face.

"Why is the House built the way it is? It's like some parts were built over, but the parts that should be new look even older. It's like a castle in some parts, and a log cabin in others. Some parts are even made with concrete and metal, but have centuries-old wood holding it up. Why does it look like that? What's the weird symbols that are everywhere? What the fuck. Is. This. Fucking. House. Jack." She pointedly bobbed her head with each word of her last sentence, lips twitching slightly.

Jack returned her wide-eyed stare for a moment, leg bouncing in anxiety. Ben was quiet for once in his life, nail tearing under his teeth as he waited from Jack's direction. For them both it was a hard question, but in Jack's case it was because he simply didn't know.

"This House…from what I know…is formerly the residence of a very, very old cult. Called Lunamos, I believe. It was a cult dedicated to a goddess of the moon, some called her Luna, but according to Rinku her real name was Loria. She's some goddess from another world, but she's one that is known to many different worlds."

"If Rinku knows her, and he's Dark Link, yeah? So she's the goddess of the moon from Hyrule?" Twitch sneered, to her the suggestion was ridiculous, but it was hard to write it off as nonsense given her current living situation.

"Rinku knows better about this place than either of us. He has experience with that cult, he'd give you better answers. Trust me, you aren't the only one disoriented so badly by this House." There's a beat of silence, before finally Jack waves his hand, dismissing her as best he can. "Go on. Stay the hell out of the west hallways. Please." Twitch rolled her eyes, jumping down from the stool she sat on to quickly leave.

Ben tilted his head as he watched her leave, rocking back in forth in place before finally jumping off of the table. He ignored Jack's attempts to flail towards the table to catch the now-falling vials that were jostled off of the table from his movement, catching them before Jack could even get close, and casually placing them back. Jack scoffed, glaring at Ben, who only gave a playful nose scrunch in response.

"Ya know…."

"No, I don't, Benil, shut up."

"You knooowwww……" He leaned into Jack's side, hands clasping over the crook of Jack's collar, his mouth pressing into his shoulder as he spoke. His bare heel rhythmically thumped against the tile flooring of Jack's lab, in time with the twitching of the hollowghast's eyelid. "She really is very powerful. Maybe a better method of controlling her behavior is to give her a better outlet."

"She is not going out on a job."

"I'm not saying right now, Hemmersen. Put her into training, Jeff's been itching for extra things to do around the House when not on a job, give her to him. He's calm and strict, he could handle her I'm sure."

"And why would you ever suggest a helpful solution if there isn't a way it will benefit you?"

"Who said it wouldn't?"

"How the hell would her being put on a job benefit you other than causing headaches that we would make you go clean up since you suggested her in the first place?"

"Entertainment. She's batshit, I'm very sure you've noticed."

"Quit using so many S's when you speak, you sound like a bee."

"Shut up."

"Sthut up?"

Ben scoffs, halfheartedly shoving Jack's shoulder, knocking him off balance slightly. Jack easily regained his footing, barely leaning. He thought about it, the idea of Twitch being permitted on a job. It gave him worse anxiety than her own face did.

She was small, but built like a tank. It was clear she was built for work despite her stature, even if she rarely ever did anything. He remembered the first night she was here, trying to get her to answer even the most basic questions about herself. Her personality wouldn't matter on a general population control job, but those missions could always go awry, would she be able to handle something like that? The way she spoke was like listening to a siren song, disorienting and haunting. She made his heart race in a way that made him wildly uncomfortable, like he was always in danger when she was around.

"Ben."

"Yeah?"

"Does Twitch…unnerve you at all? You've called her creepy and a freak and batshit…but are you afraid of her?"

"Afraid of that thing? Nah. She's harmless."

"She definitely isn't."

"You get what I mean. She isn't going to do anything to us."

"Are you sure about that?"

The two shared a look. Ben regarded the thought for a moment. A poltergeist really wasn't anything special in most cases, but humans were fickle and unpredictable. They were the worst when it came to consistency, especially in death. Most poltergeists were most useful in cases that required taking over electronics or messing with important devices and machinery. Cybernetics was where they thrived, and Twitch shouldn't be any different. But something was weird about her. It was more than the electricity in the House that she affected whenever she'd have one of her meltdowns. Though she had no clue, the Slenderman and Ben both felt whenever she'd go off, the sheer energy coming off of her feeling like smoke before a fire caught up. Suffocating and caustic, just like her.

"She's dangerous, sure. All new human ghosts are."

"You would know, yeah?"

"We both know I'm not human."

"No, but you're a ghost, yes? You've never said of what, but you are one. So how do you handle something so unpredictable as a human ghost? If you want to put her out on a job, you have to prove to me and Charlie that she won't ruin the entire job because she lost control. Would you be able to stop her if she had one of her meltdowns?"

Ben hummed, thumping his heel against the floor for a few beats.

"Yes, I could."

A frustrated noise pushed its way out of Jack's throat. He shook his head, running his hand over his face. "Fine. Tell Jeff to start teaching her our rules. I doubt she'll react well to you, so don't go trying to cut into her training time to be a shit, please? Okay? Okay." Jack pushes past Ben, crouching slightly to get out of the door. Ben hummed to himself as the door shut with a loud, metallic clang.

He giggled to himself, running a finger over his front teeth. He stood there in the silence of the lab, emerald green eyes that were usually so obscured by his pupils now focused, the red and yellow at the center revealed by the pupils cinching. He hummed again, jagged nail dragging over the enamel. I don't wish to tell you what is in his head, but I must as your faithful narrator, mustn't I?

In his head there were a menagerie of devious little thoughts. Different ways he could spin this in his favor, whatever would entertain him the most. Because really, that was all he ever cared about. Entertainment. No matter how short or long-lived it was, he wanted entertainment to cut through the monotony of his miserable existence. A disgusting brain filled with just as disgusting thoughts-

Oh, I am getting careless with my words. Ignore that.

In his mind, he thought of Twitch's abilities and what he knew of her so far. She was one of those Habitat girls that had grown up in the throes of Creepypasta and its effect on the internet. One heavily embroiled in the fan side of it, she was another mentally ill teenager that was obsessed with the occult and supernatural, like so many others, according to the information Toby had found on her. Little city girl from the Midwest US, grew up in the mill of a school a thousand strong where she could easily disappear into the crowd. From what he saw, she had one other friend that died shortly before she did, an emancipated teenage boy who was found hanging from the ceiling fan in his own apartment. She had only a few other friends, but she was the classic emo kid with problems and a bad attitude. But she was loved by some, clearly, given how pathetic everyone looked at her funeral. The little redhead in the front row came to mind, Tenn something. Maybe that was it. Dangle old memories in her face and see what he could get out of her, see what could be used. Yeah.

Yeah, that was it.

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This isn't the hardest thing, really. Most people assume it's hard to do these kinds of things to people, but I never found it difficult. She was easy to find, even with how quiet her footsteps are. When you're attuned to the kind of energy she puts off, it's easy to track her down. She hadn't been here more than a month now. What day is it? May 18th. Good. Now to find the mayflower.

She likes to avoid me, but every time I speak to her there's this little lull in the facade. Like she wants to step closer but can't. I think I'll pull her closer this time. Whenever she looks up at me with that little face it makes me want to choke her until she couldn't speak another word. Too bad I missed my chance to get that from her.

"Twitch~"

"It's Twitch, not tweesh. Say it right."

"Well, that's rude! I have an accent I can't help it."

"You have a fucking lisp, not an accent. You don't know how to pronounce S's for sthit." I don't have a lisp.

"You're so mean! What did I ever do to you?" It was easy to use the size difference to my advantage, especially since she didn't seem to want the embarrassment of actually trying to run from me. Mostly she'd try to walk as fast as she could, but with such little legs it was a bit hard for her to keep out of range. I snatched the back of her shirt, earning a few rather hard scratches against my arm, but it was easy enough to keep her from doing it again. That look on her face was so funny. To me, she looked confused and angry, but there was this twinge of fear that kept trying to creep in. I want to make that worse.

"You exist! Leave me the hell alone!" Her voice is rough and raspy, not the squeaky noise you'd expect from someone like her. She had a little bit of what Jeff calls a Valley Girl accent, the way she drawls out the ends of her words when she's annoyed, though she didn't employ the excessive use of the word "like" like most examples of the accent. She was annoyingly strong as well, almost the same level as Toby.

"I want to talk to you about some things."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you. Let go."

"Noooooooo…Just come on! I just wanna talk." I dragged her along to our shared hallway, ignoring her grumbling and periodic attacks on my wrist. She made a funny noise when I yanked her into my room, I wonder if I can get more out of her. I gestured vaguely to the room as I locked the door behind us. "Sit wherever! I wanna ask a couple questions if that's okay."

"It's not okay." Too bad~

"Anyways…." I crawled onto my own bed to splay out and stretch a bit while she likely was deciding in her head whether or not to try and stab me. I hope she uses my sewing needles. "I wanted to ask about you! Tell me about yourself, Twitch." I enunciated as clearly as I could, enjoying the sneer I got as a reaction.

"Why?"

"I just want to know. Nothing sinister. You're new. I like the new people, I want to know about you. What's so bad about that?"

"I don't fucking like you, Ben."

"I think you do. Otherwise, you would have fought much harder to get me off of you."

"No, I wouldn't have. Because there's no point in trying to physically harm you just to get you away from me, I shouldn't have to do that. I should be able to tell you fucking no and you take that as a no. Ever head of consent, freak?"

I stared at her for a moment, trying to remember what that word meant.

"Unbelievable. Please go die, and leave me the fuck alone." She tries to leave, but I'm not done. This time the grab is a little more rough on my end, yanking her shirt up enough to show off her belly. Stretchmarks and a bit of chub, but she's built like a fucking tank. Why is she so strong? The hand that rears back to slap me hits its mark, and damn does it fucking sting. Not even Jeff has managed to get a clean shot like that on me, not that hard. I have to breathe out for a second to process, and she goes for another one. This time she isn't expecting her back and head to slam into the wall.

"Hit me again, and you're gonna regret it." I won't regret it, though. Please hit me again, please please please please please. She smells like lavender and petrichor, I want to bite through her. "How about you stop acting like a mega bitch and chill the fuck out? We are having a normal conversation, yeah? A normal conversation where I don't have to hold you in a fucking headlock just to get you to not hit me. Yeah? That sound good?" Her eyes were so wide, I want to pluck them out. Pretty thing yell at me again, I want to cut your tongue out.

It was silent for a beat, just us, nose to nose. Please understand, please want me. I want to burn you up, don't you want to do it too? Show me show me show me show me

"I don't want to answer your questions, Ben. Let me go." She's trying so hard to sound calm and brave, what a sweet girl.

"I don't want to let you go, Twitch. Answer my questions." It's a bit too much for me. She is suffocating, something that feels like nostalgia. Her cheek is soft under my mouth, just against my lips. I wonder what she would've tasted like alive. Pretty red instead of the watery black that was in her veins now. Poltergeists always mimic their alive forms, false pulses and shivers from sheer muscle memory going off. I wonder what her body remembers.

"What do you want to know?" Oh you're so fucking easy. Her voice is a whisper, a rasp barely crawling up the back of her throat. I breathe her in and out, and she turns her head away from me. I don't let her, I catch her with my nose pressed to hers. I feel dizzy.

"What were you like, before? What was your life like? Were you a good girl, nice and proper? Or did you do stupid shit like every teenager in high school? Tell me about you, Twitch." Tell me everything, I want to know everything. I want to tear you apart.

"I was stupid. Delusional and ill. That's all."

"There's a story to that, tell me it."

"No."

"Yes." I might've felt embarrassed at the way my yes sounded, but she was too much. That lull was starting, the break in the facade. Everytime I leaned into her, she'd pull away but each time was a little less. The swaying back and forth with our faces touching and it was like a spell went over her. I could feel ever shiver in my hands, I knew it was still there. Pay attention, keep your focus on me, little ghost.

"I let an obsession of mine almost kill me. When I thought that obsession was gone, it came back and did kill me. There's nothing else important about me, Ben." Oh, yes there is. You don't even know do you? You don't know how much there is to you. Pretty little ghost, wail for me, please.

"Stay in here with me." This wasn't going the exact way I wanted, but if I can't get information to use, I'll take feelings instead. They're just as useful. Her lips are chapped when I first pass my lips over them, she wets them the first time I pull back, like an instinct. Her hands are shaking in mine, and I lean a little harder into her.

"Why do your eyes look like that?" That surprises me a little. Pupils must have shrunk.

"How do they look to you?"

"Like the mask."

The mask? Oh, right. It's a game in her world.

"Ohhh, Majora's Mask. I forget that's a game sometimes."

"Don't you haunt it?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't quite align with the usual story that's pushed in your world. So, no. But I do know of the thing, yes."

"Usually, your pupils are so wide there's only a little sliver of green. Now you have red, and yellow, and orange, all in rings like that thing. I see it in my dreams, you know…" She sighs when my mouth hits her jaw. That works, keep going, ghost. "It haunts me, like you do."

"Like I do?" Her mouth opens against mine, hands digging into my shirt when I let her go. Her hair was tangled at the back, curls tangling and catching around my fingers, at least she can't get away. "Are you scared of me, Twitch? Am I your ghost, while you are mine?"

"I am not yours. Not ever." Mmm, you won't say that for long.

She doesn't fight it, doesn't push me away. She's still tense, but it melts away with every swipe of our tongues. She's a little drooly but that just makes it better. I need her to be messy and embarrassed. Lean into me, let me hold you up. She likes to claw, nails digging into my neck like she wants to choke me even as she chokes back a whine when my hand clamps into her hair. I can keep her in place like this, held perfectly still while she finally relaxes. She's so easy to move around, I shake her head a little just to laugh at her, and this time she doesn't even sneer. Oh, no. There it is. Just took a second, haha~

"You're disgusting." It doesn't sound sincere, but I know she means it. It's okay, though. She's no better than me, clearly. In fact, I wonder if she even meant me, or if she was telling herself~

Kisses are best messy in my opinion, and she is messy. Inexperienced, drooly, rough. She gets a bit angrier again when I tease her and pull back, getting yanked back in by my ears. Hands clawing, grabbing, like she wants to tear into me too.

It's easy to learn things about a person when you get them alone and desperate like this. Tiny reactions that compound into bigger ones. It's so easy to gain control of someone if you can get them dependent on you. Make them feel okay in the moment, then take it away. Keep doing it until they're chasing you for each little hit. I want to make her overdose on me.

I'll admit I lose myself in her as much as she does me. It's only a kiss, but something about the view of throwing her on my bed, her hair splayed out under her head like a coiling halo of snakes, I want her to poison me. What do you look like inside? What does the rest of you taste like? Right now, her mouth tastes like that same lavender and petrichor that her entire body puts off. She is dangerous in a way I can't figure out just yet. A perfect death, I want to see it over and over and over and over and over and over-

"You're staring."

"Is that so odd?"

"You talk weird."

"Do I?"

She hummed, and a sweeter look crossed face. Something like a calmness, something more gentle. Oh it does not fit her face. She is prettiest when she looks like she wants to kill me. Oh, there it is. She looks at me with this deep-seated anger in her eyes but her face is so relaxed. That perfect splatter of freckles across her nose, I could draw her second death in them. Her hands are hauntingly soft, painting over my cheeks with a touch that whispers to me like poison. My face is hot, I know I'm glowing, but I don't care.

"Your freckles glow. Why is that? What are you, really?"

"A ghost."

"Not like me."

"No, not like you. I'm a ghost of something a lot older than humans."

She hums again, trailing her fingers down the front of my throat. She lingers, passing her palm over the skin over and over.

"Is there others?"

"Other what?"

"Versions of you. The others have mentioned it in passing, that there are multiple versions of some of you, because of the different realities. How Rednels has access to other timelines and worlds. So, is there other versions of you? Of BEN."

So that's what it is. That's what you saw in the mirror.

"Yes, there are. Quite a few, in fact."

"Are you mine?"

I felt my lip twitch, trying to hide a smirk was hard when it felt so fucking good to be right.

"No. I'm from here, not Habitat. Yours is a different one. I call him IZZI. He's mostly cybernetic, a robot."

"You know him."

"Of him, yes."

"Why do you call him IZZI?"

"His official name from wherever he's from. Intelligence Zone of Zombification and Innovation." I quacks my hands, making a face. "Some government project from your world, I think. I don't know much about him."

"You're lying." You're perfect. She smiles when she says it. She knows, and I love that she does.

"Not about his name."

"No, not about his name. But you're lying about not knowing much about him. Can't I see him?"

"If he wants you to."

She doesn't ask anymore questions. She only lays there, fingers still idly swiping over my neck. It's almost peaceful, the silence between us. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me. What goes on inside of you? I want to crack your ribs open and watch it all spill out.

She lets me lay down on her, a knee nocked between hers, my face against her stomach. I can hear the buzzing of electricity inside her, the mimicked rhythmic thumping of whatever pseudo-heart was left. I think we have a good start here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to kill him. That's all I could think of. The way he'd look, dead-eyed and gone. Blood or whatever vile viscous liquid that would be in his body. The quiet puts me on edge, but it's almost irritating how good his weight felt on top of me. We laid there for a while, I don't even remember when he left. I felt cold without him here.

I stared at the plastic stars stuck to the ceiling above me. They were the glow in the dark ones, ones my older brother had in his room as a child. I almost remember sneaking in his room when he wasn't home, playing his games and complaining about how much his room stunk to our dog that would waddle in after a short time. I still dream of hiding from monsters by locking myself in his closet.

I don't know why I felt compelled to get up, but I did, and found myself staring between the bars of the balcony's railing. The two floors that overlooked the parlor had bannisters made of the same cherry colored wood as the rest of the House, and enough space between them to sit with my legs hanging over the edge. The guys were back now, Jeff dumping his gear in a tote near the staircase, and Brian kicking it along in front of him towards the hallways beneath the stairs. Jeff walked alongside Jane towards the back of the House as well, down the opposite hallway. Toby stood trying to shake his bloodied boots off by the mat near the doors, which slowly creaked shut, closing with a loud bang. He looked up at the chandelier for a moment when he was down, idly swaying back and forth, then his head suddenly clicked towards me. He waved, tapping over in his black socks.

"What are you doing?" He called up to me.

"Watching."

He smiled, waving for me to come down. I sneered at him, earning a giggle back. He swung his arms back and forth, stopping suddenly with his hands splayed out beside him. He disappears under the edge of the balcony, and for a moment it's silent. Then the sound of Toby's insane ass scaling the pillars that lead to the second floor assaulted my ears, and I hit my knee on the railing as he launches himself over the edge of the balcony, onto the hallway floor. He shakes his entire body like a dog as he stands up, jaw quirking a few times before he speaks.

"I wanna show you something."

"Something I'm not supposed to be seeing?"

He smiles at me, some of his front teeth have chips in them, the very front two on the top a minor case of bunny teeth. It was nice to see him smile without it being followed by him dislocating his jaw for fun, often followed by Jeff's overdramatic and very loud dry heaving.

"Mmmmmaybe…Come with meee." He bares his teeth when he says it, like a toddler trying to smile. I sigh, assuming this will be yet another case of vomiting out viscous black liquids and bouts of schizophrenic hallucinations. Oh what fun.

At this point I'm used to be thrown over shoulders to be moved where I am wanted. Which is fine and all, as long as I'm close to the ground. In Toby's case, it's usually a football carry, but I feel as if him throwing me over his shoulder this time was to add height specifically to make the drop down to the first floor from the balcony way worse for me. He is the type to do that shit on purpose. He drops like a ragdoll, but lands like a cat, immediately bouncing back up from the floor and tearing the massive doors open like it's nothing. He didn't stop me from wiggling off of his shoulders, but he did grip the back of my shirt to keep me from smacking the ground too hard as I fell. I was hauled back up to my feet. No one here knows how to treat a lady, damn.

I didn't get a good look at the courtyard before. Honestly, I haven't left the House other than to stare at the hedge maze here and there. The front was covered in cobbled black stone, worn into grooves where foot traffic was most common along the steps up to the door. A broken fountain filled with stagnant water and debris sat in the center. Most of the area was just covered in stone and wood debris, like leftovers from whatever thousand times they tried to fix this house. When you step off the massive steps and look back up at the House, it's a little shocking just how big it is. Many parts of the House feel like they're smaller than they should be, especially when you take a look at it from the outside.

The House was some kind of fucked H-shape overall, and the stone that was used on the stairs wasn't what was used for the actual front walls. It tried to look like a castle, but the wood of the doors make it look more like a woodland mansion from Minecraft fucked a castle. Above the front doors were broken stained glass windows that had the same netting and wood behind it that covered the holes in the ceiling. The glass that remained showed some kind of religious scene, probably related to the Sistine Chapel-esque paintings in the dining hall. Something felt off when I stared at the glass, like my vision was different. Clearer, sharper, everything felt like a photo that had been refined. Before my vision was always blurry, I never wore glasses like I should have.

Toby tugged my arm so hard it probably would have dislocated had I been alive still. But this felt little more than a very weird pressure inside of my arm, as he dragged me along behind him into the treeline. It felt like every sense of mine had been turned up to 11, it was almost overwhelmed, but never quite tipped over the edge of making me freak the fuck out. I could hear the humming of whatever replaced my heart inside of me, drowning out any other noise other than the forest breathing. That makes no sense. What does that mean?

The forest is breathing.

It was breathing. I could feel it. I couldn't tell if I was still experiencing the same thing, if I was even still being pulled along by him now. All I could hear was her breathing. The crunch of the leaves, the desperate breathing and the cries. Who is she?

My head tipped back as we borderline ran. I stared at the sun peeking through the canopy of trees, the branches whipping by. The air was deafening, the breathing forcing air into my lungs again. I smelled something like lavendar and petrichor. The taste of iron. Something throbbed behind my eyes and down my cheeks.

He brought me to the Pond. The stone bridge under my feet, wet and slick to the point I nearly slipped when Toby pushed me closer to the edge. He still held a hand, but the other was buried in the back of my shirt so he could drag me over the ledge of the bridge. I was stuck bent over the stone while he squeezed his cheek against mine for both of us to look over at the water. With the hand still wrapped around mine he pointed a finger to the reflection of us in the water.

"That's where I found you. You were floating in the water, face up. I dragged you out." This is a bad idea.

"Toby."

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing this again? You already fuckedd me up once ttelling me about my death, isn't this shit dangerous?" There's a stutter in the letters, I keep repeating D's and T's. I hiss a breath out, earning the smallest quirk on his head next to mine. "We shouldn't be here."

"No, we shouldn't. But I want to be. I want to show you. Are you scared to learn about it?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to know. It's not really a matter of fear."

"Liar." He giggles like he's trying to hide it.

It almost felt like a blackout, but I was too aware. Too aware of the feeling of my head whipping back as he pulls me up. The hand on mine lets go and grips the front of my shirt as I'm hoisted into the air. The rush of air around my head is too loud, the splash of the water even louder. I can see every fucking bubble and wave, every shadow in the water, I can see his eyes below me staring back up. Eyes?

No, it's his eyes, it's Toby's, as he jumps in after me. Another hand in my shirt to keep me in place while he treads water. He's smiling, a funny joke to him and nothing more. I don't move, don't try to tread water or pull myself up. I don't need to breathe, I don't need to do anything. It's quiet now, terribly so. My hands find the collar of his shirt, my nails biting skin underneath the fabric. I feel wrong.

No, no, I feel very right.

There's a shift in his expression. Something next to realization, but not sure yet. A confirmation. A confirmation when he looks at me, and that smile pulls harder at his face, turning into a grimace. Every muscle in his face hardening just so slightly. Tense. Tense when he looks at me. You should look at me like that a lot more. I don't need to breathe.

But he does.

Tulpa, they said. In some iterations, they are something like a creature made from fiction. A story come to life. He and one of the Slenderman copies are tulpas. They can be killed. They might not stay dead, but they can be killed. For him, he needs air. He needs to breathe.

I don't need to breathe.

He realizes a little too late how much stronger I've gotten physically. He can't pull up, and I'm suddenly much heavier than when he threw me. In the water, it's different. It's like there's more to me, more I have accessible. I am rocks in his pockets and he has his feet tied.

But I guess not strong enough. That smile is gone, the mirth in his eyes gone. I'm yanked upwards by my hair, startling me enough to break the spell. Rocks bite at my head and back after the rush of air, the sound of grinding teeth in my ear. He has me by my face, hands gripping either side of my head with a pressure that should hurt much more than it does. Pupils pinpoint and he blows air out of his nose with each recovery breath. My chest kept seizing over and over until I realized it was me laughing. I choked on one of them, but I couldn't stop. Stuck under the little patch of stones beneath the bridge, the sun catching the water, I still felt like this was nothing greater than a dream before my death.

His curls were stuck to his face, straightened slightly from the weight of the water. That unnatural orange matched the sun above us, canine teeth tearing at his bottom lip while he tried to catch his breath. I couldn't stop laughing. He was soaking wet, face red and flustered. It was that easy. To break that silly facade of his, just by turning this stupid shit on him. All it took was trying to keep him under the water.

I couldn't move, my feet were free and any time he shifted his position I'd throw a kick at him, but it never did much. All I could do otherwise was laugh, which just made him angrier. Though the angrier he got, the calmer he seemed. Finally, I calmed down too, I was oddly out of breath, probably reflexive again. I just stared at him with a smile on my face, the first genuine one I feel like I've had since coming here. It just felt right. The look on his face.

His hands had found their way to my neck at some point, but he didn't hold me any tighter. My hands were free, and he didn't move a muscle when I tugged at a curl at the side of his head. He even mimicked the movement, taking one of my around his pointer finger, but never moving his hands from my neck.

"What was the purpose of this? To learn something about me? Or just to piss me off?"

"To learn. To watch."

"You're aware of what you are, how do you feel about the versions of you that got to be Toby and nothing else?"

"I am Toby and nothing else. They're no different from me." His fingers tensed. I didn't care.

"They're very different from you. You're nothing like a boy. So why are you testing something you know is a bad idea? Jack's told you, I heard him. To stop showing me things I'm not meant to see. Slender and Ben, too. You've been told by the three authorities in this House, but you're still bold enough to chase me around and play with fire, why?"

"Because it's funny. No other reason. I like to see what it does. I don't like being told not to do things."

Our noses were touching as he spoke. He leaned fully on me, a weird sensation with the lack of breathing. Just a constant pressure, hollow on the inside. This was different than when Bay leaned on me. His face didn't have that lecherous smile with wandering hands. His hands never moved from my neck, but he laid all of his weight onto me like Bay did.

He only stared and breathed at a steady pace now. His face was blank, eyes held open wide. My foot was propped against his hip, still idly kicking to try to shove him back.

"Why are you here, Twitch? You could have left. Home is a refuge. You could leave and hide out anywhere here."

That had to be a joke. There's no other place for me to be. No other place, that was the whole point. The entire delusion was to end with this. That's the fucking point. Leave? I can't leave. I can't leave.

His left hand gripped my jaw tighter than he should. Sometimes I felt like he knew, but then he just seemed too…in his own world. Either he didn't know, or he did and he didn't care. I wish I could be that stupid either way.

"You're stuck here, you know that? Clearly you do, that's why you haven't left. You just love us that much, huh?" He was smiling again. I wonder. If I took out enough teeth could I make him feel it? How far does the lack of pain go? Is it the same as the others? No, I bet he'd sit there and laugh the whole time. Maybe even egg me on. A fucked masochist like Ben. I can see it on his face.

"Do you know what's in the Pond?" He uses his face to turn mine towards the water, and lays his cheek into mine, keeping me in place. "We think it's one of Ben's guys. A Moon Child. The others call it the Siren Pond. Apparently the Child lures people into the pond like a siren and eats them. Do you think he'll eat us?"

"I don't think you should be too worried about him." That grating, disgusting smug voice. Toby shot up, staring at the stupid fuck above us on the bridge. Bay's reflection smirked at me from the water. "You two aren't supposed to be out here without telling the Jailor. Next time at least tell one of us."

Why the fuck should I tell you shit?

"Because I don't think you want your soul eaten a second time. As plucky as you are, you wouldn't be able to come back from what the Jailor or the other freaks in these woods could do to you."

"Did I say that out loud?" I crawled out to sit next to Toby, finally looking at the most annoying prick of Rednels headon.

"No, I read your mind."

"No, you did say it out loud." Toby immediately corrected, earning a scoff from Ben.

Ben sighs, staring off to the side for a moment. After a pause, he quirks his head to the left, signaling for us to follow. "C'mon. Go back to the House. You, Toby, especially know better, but I hate having to chastise you."

"Then don't chastise. Why does it matter if we're out here?" Toby called from his spot still on his knees. He didn't sound defiant despite his words, looking as docile as a dog in the position he was in. His curls were bouncing back from the weight of the water, like a little halo for an angel. How ironic.

"Because you're not supposed to be out here without telling someone first."

"I told Twitch."

"Someone who isn't one of the people going with you. Just, both of you get up and get back to the House." 

"Who the fuck put you in charge of me?" Toby stood in tandem with me, already knowing where this would go, and smacked me upside the head for the comment. "No, hell no! I'm not listening to the creepy prick who gropes me in my fucking bed every night! The fuck you gonna do about it if I don't listen to you?"

"Twitch." Toby hisses at me. I shove my hand into his face, pushing him away as best I can. We both grappled for our spot on the bank as he tried to keep me from talking.

"No. Why am I not allowed to know about the fucking Pond? You both told Toby he can't tell me about how I died, why not? What will it do if I know? What happened to me? Do you know what happened? Are you the one who fucking did it?"

"You know I'm not who killed you, Twitch."

"But you know who did." He's silent. Green eyes that catch the sun, something like what the Emerald City would've looked. Am I Dorothy now? So far from Kansas, faces of a million familiar strangers surrounding me.

Does he need to breathe?

"You mouth your thoughts, you should beat that habit. And no, I don't need to breathe. Poltergeists learning their deaths is dangerous to their growth. You need to wait before you learn about it or you'll make yourself explode." His hands mime an explosion, winking at me with his tongue sticking out. "Go back to the House, Twitch."

I shoved Toby back into the water, taking him by surprise. Bay barked out a laugh as he watched me stomp my way back towards the direction of the House. Neither of them followed me, I made the entire walk back by myself, my head pounding with something that wasn't a heartbeat. This felt like an earthquake inside my bones. I wanted to throw up.

There was no more breathing from the forest, it had gone still, quiet against my emotions spilling out. My head kept jerking to the sound, unhindered by the soreness I'd get when I was alive. My face felt like it was buzzing, my whole body felt like it wasn't fully there. And apparently, it wasn't, since I fully stepped through the doors without opening them, scaring the piss out of Jeff, who stood on the other side in nothing but a stained t shirt and plaid pajamas pants.

He said my name but didn't exactly seem keen on trying again when I ignored him, storming through the foyer and up the stairs. I could barely register where I was going, only driven by the constant repeating chant of "Get away" in my head. I just wanted my room and the quiet. I wanted to go home.

When I did make it to my room, I tied the laundry chute door shut with a shirt, tying it to the side of the heavy dresser so he couldn't open it. All of the electronics were unplugged, I think I ripped the cord to the TV. I had to hide, had to hide from the monsters. Find the closet, hide from the monsters. Under the covers.

I'd hide in my brother's closet. Hide in there from the monsters. My hands fumbled for the closet doors in the darkness. I have to hide. When I opened it, that deep black glass greeted me. The mirror from the weird rooms. The sun and moon motif seemed to almost glow in the dark, the whole mirror putting off its own light, like the moon and sun itself. My hands pressed into the smooth surface, my breathing returning in the panic, my body shoving and tearing air from me over and over again.

The pitch black pulled me in, like a vacuum in the dead of space. The nausea built up, but this time it felt harder. Like a stone in my chest. The images came on quicker this time, the heavy glass holding up my entire weight as I fell to my knees, trying to claw my way through it. The muscles in my eyes pulled the farther they rolled back, my breathing hitching and gagging me with every single exhale and inhale. It noticed me before I noticed it.

I felt the eyes on me, like the eyes of God training on a new disciple, and I think I cried out. It didn't turn though, only the tears in reality that surrounded its body with the eyes of heaven searing through me. The blood-like splatters of green, blue and yellow that assaulted my senses overtook a lot of what I could see, and then just two red eyes. Red eyes like the ones that led me through the River Styx that night.

Its eyes were somehow crueler than those first ones. The first pair was playful, mischievous, these were cold and dead. Oh, he is so much prettier like that. No life to his face, just a blank canvas. I wanted to break this stupid barrier keeping us apart, how dare it keep me away? You don't keep away soulmates, you should never do that…Let me closer, let me closer. I need to be there, let me closer.

A finger tapped against the glass, matching mine. A breath torn from me. Another tap. It tilted its head at me, please come closer. Something like amusement crossed its face, but only barely. How pretty your face is when you look like you want to brutalize me. Please come closer.

I could call its name, I wonder if I could hear it when it answers. I could hear the person from last time, but it and Sally were different. There was a complete absence of noise, like a black hole around them. I could hear the ambience of the room we were in, but its movements seemed to destroy the noise around it. There was so much nothing around it I wanted to be swallowed by it please come closer to me.

A door shut somewhere and its head whipped towards the source. I was already begging it not to leave, a pointed ear twitched in my direction and its face twitched. It barely looks back at me, then flits off, crawling over the furniture like some little freak, knocking over a glass that had been left on the dresser. A voice calls out shortly after, then the brunette from before comes in, cursing at the pile of glass now on the floor. They throw the bag they had in their hand onto a nearby chair, crouching to pick up the bigger chunks of glass. Where did he go?

Mine returns. The eyes retrain on me, always so reassuring he remembers I'm here. He lurks around them, never turning its head back to me, but those eyes never leave. I forget to pay attention to them, I should learn more if I can, but all I want to do is look at it. The eyes can sort of move, like they just float in the space between the air. One is a little closer to the mirror, and keeps me company for now. He must know too, they always know, it's my story. He must know he's mine. I press my cheek to the glass and relax a little, tapping back and forth on the glass with the eye watches me. I don't remember falling asleep, but I dreamt of his face. It wasn't blurry this time.

[soulless-computerbug]

TATA Ch. 4: Lucky

It really was like he followed me everywhere. It didn't matter where I was, he was always lurking. Like a hallucination I could only see in the corner of my eye. I'd see him pass the doorway as I retreat to my room, feel his hands drift past my back as I made it out of the hallways. Always present, I never felt like I could be alone as long as I was inside the House. The only time he didn't hover was when I was outside. After a week of tiptoeing around a near-silent House, the stagnant air suffocating me despite the lack of a need to breathe, it was nice to just have a spot where fewer people would bother me. No Jack poking and prodding, or the tall faceless freak trying to pretend as if he wasn't watching every movement of mine whenever I came into his line of sight. At least Toby would leave me alone if I asked him to. And Ben usually would quit after a while, but he just…wouldn't leave it be.

The House itself was pretty large, 4 stories extending into east and west wings that made reaching the backyard from outside the house very tedious, but the courtyard and outer gardens dwarfed it easily. The backyard had this massive labyrinth of overgrown hedges that had every flower you could imagine hanging from the vines, flowers that didn't even grow on vines normally. The stone paths had just as many different types of plants sprouting from the cracks, the grass and fountains covered in more and more. A greenhouse sat to the left side of the inner half of the backyard, before a stone wall cut directly through the middle of the hedge maze, reaching so far up into the sky you couldn't see anything on the other side even if you looked at it from the roof of the House. It blocked the House off completely from the other half, moss and more odd plants sprouting from the stone. Apparently at night, you could hear something scratching at the stone on the other side, wailing for permission to enter. I hadn't heard its cries yet.

There was a cobbled patio that surrounded the doors that led into the backyard, flanked by rich cherry wood railings that connected to an awning of the same wood. Lanterns burning with blue-tinged fire lit up by theirselves as soon as the sun disappeared behind the labyrinth's wall. The black stone of the patio was worn almost smooth from the foot traffic of the Residents, with tough wooden stairs that seemed much newer leading down to the greater backyard's grounds.

The Residents.

They called theirselves that. Residents of Matheson House. Such an innocent name for such-

"Twitch."

Tim was the same. He had so little different to him than the one I knew, it only made me more irritated. But I didn't mind him, I guess. He looked as if he hadn't aged a single day from the end of Marble Hornets, perpetually frozen as a depressed man in his late 20s.

"What?"

"You shouldn't really hang around the maze. Some of these flowers are poisonous." As he approached me, he stepped over a bit of monkshood growing between the cracks in the stone pathway that lined the entire floor of the maze and leading up to it. "Well….you're already dead so I guess that won't matter, but a lot of weird shit hides in this thing. It's better to avoid it altogether. Sure you heard that yowling behind the wall." He stood opposite me, at the other edge of the entrance. Next to his head was a small grouping of white heather flowers, little bulbs that matched the white of the collar of his shirt that peaked out from under the heavy brown leather jacket.. He pointed to the flowers next to my head, which I had assumed were the same ones.

"Those are lily of the valley. This whole maze has every flower you can think of. No one knows how they grow here, but LJ usually takes care of 'em now that Moen is gone."

"You're saying a lot of names like I'd know them." Tim quirked a brow at me for that. A smug smirk pulled at his lips, his fingers twitching up towards his face to idly scratch at his chin.

"Shit, I thought you would, Miss Creepypasta. LJ. Laughing Jack. I guess you might not know Moen, most of those internet stories called him some nasty shit like 'Offenderman.' He's a thing like the Operator, but he's also some protective spirit from Ethiopia. His story got bastardized and had to go into hiding cause of the whole…energy effects reality bullshit. He and Toby both get effected by it for some reason." You talk a lot when you're nervous.

"Sounds like a tulpa."

"Yeaahhh, that's what they're called. The greenhouse has the roses, for some reason those don't grow in the maze. You came out here to avoid Bay I assume."

"Bay?" What a sweet name for such a disgusting piece of shit. He tilts his head in response to me, gesturing vaguely as he reaches into his pocket, then sighs, knocking his head against the leaves of the hedge. "Ben. His full name is something like…. bay-nee-yah or some stupid shit like that. I never could pronounce it so I just say Bay. Damn, do I really not have any? Brian must've stolen them again."

"What're you looking for?"

"Cigarettes. Fuck, he took my lighter too, prick." I stifle a laugh. He notices, that smirk - or maybe it's a smile - tugs it way back onto his face. "Look, kid. I'm sorry for how I reacted to you at first. I just get…protective I guess? Like…." He sighs, kicking at the loose rubble by his feet. "I don't like when trouble comes around here. I get, mean, when I feel like my peace and my peoples' peace is being threatened. I hate trouble, and you…..I'm sorry to say but you feel like trouble. You knocked out all of the power in the House like it was nothing, and with what the boss has been saying, you've got a lot more power than most human ghosts. It just…put me on edge. I'm sorry."

Is that why you're so nervous?

"Do you not think I'd like to live in peace too? I'm being forced to live in a House full of people that fueled mentally ill delusions of mine for my whole adolescence. This shit's uncomfortable for me too, man." Tim sighs at that, nodding his head.

"No, I get it. It wasn't fair of me. Really, I'm sorry. I'm sure shit is hard to understand too, since no one will really explain anything about this place. If you want, as recompense or something, I'll answer any questions of yours I can. Maybe if you understand this place it can help you adjust."

I stare at him, his hopeful look on his face. You are too normal for a place like this, are you?

No….no, you have something wrong with you too. Or else you wouldn't be here.

"Yeah, I'd like that actually. Thank you. No hard feelings, I guess."

"Good….That's good, uh…." He trails off, failing at holding any kind of eye contact with me. He turned his head towards the house, his eyes searching for something. I leaned over, catching his gaze. His eyes were a warm brown, not the baby blue you usually saw in old DeviantArt drawings of his character. Such a familiar face to me, one that twisted into wariness and confusion when I tilted my head, a smile pulling at my face. "Do you…want to join the House tonight? We always have like, a group dinner, Operator thinks it like…builds teamwork?" He cringes, chuckling a little. "I don't know, it's some weird fuckin' thing with it."

"Yeah. Sure. Is…Bay going to be there?"

"Probably." He gives me a sympathetic look.

"Yeah, figured. Awweessoommmeee…." He laughed at me, nodding in agreement over the uncomfortable groan that came out of me.

"Yeahhh….he's weird. We'll try and keep him off you, but he's real good at getting what he wants. He's an unavoidable hazard of this House. He should give it up eventually, it's just cause you're new."

I don't answer. I don't get it, ya know? How can such sweet, normal people be such disgusting creatures at the same time? You're so normal, Sutton, why are you here? The massive doors of the porch opened with a haunting creek. Tim's eyes follow the sound, the crinkle at the corners growing as he smiles, Brian's name rolling off of his lips. My eyes followed his face until he'd turned completely from me, my gaze dropping to the monkshood patch crushed under his distracted foosteps. I smile a bit as the burning feeling lights back up in my chest, my lip twitching against my will. Brian's eyes lock with mine, the same look staring back at me.

Yeah. None of you are fucking normal. God, that makes all of this so much fucking easier, doesn't it?

My brain felt like nothing but static in the moment. Walking past Brian felt like his very presence disrupted the static, making me dizzy as I walked. I didn't think it was obvious, but Brian's sudden grip on my arm as I tried to walk up the steps told me otherwise. I sighed, quietly thanking him, before pulling away to continue walking up to the deck. I jogged slightly to make it past the massive doors before they shut on their own, not really wanting to try and lug the massive rope that had to be used to open them again. How some of these people managed to so easily shove the doors open with only one arm escaped me.

The House always smelled like dusty wood, like a grandparent's house when you were a kid. Clean but old, missing the stench of people and children, despite the fact that it was well-lived in. The porch doors were accessible from the back of the surprisingly small kitchen, one that felt like it came straight out of a horror movie, ironically. It only had the bare minimum, Jack said that is was because they kept most of the working appliances near the "ballroom turned dining room." A large chest freezer held a menagerie of desserts and various extra meats that needed to be kept deepfreezed, and a broken down wood stove that hadn't been touched in years. I hauled the heavy lid of the freezer open, grabbing the first orange popsicle I could find, letting the lid slam back down on its own.

Before I could tear the plastic open with my teeth, an orange-clad arm the same shade as the popsicle wrapped around my waist, lifting me into the air with no effort. A strained noise was pushed out of me by the pressure on my stomach, resulting in something between a cough and a gurgle, which is followed by Toby's mischievous laugh, and the woosh of air in my ears as he swings around with me in a football carry under his arm.

"Okay…how about you warn me next time?" I wheeze out, fumbling to tear my popsicle open as I am transported to god-knows-where.

"No can do, gotta run." I can hear the grin in his voice.

"Where are we running, exactly?"

"Dunno! Gotta run though."

God this bitch is weird.

"Toby."

"Yeah."

"Where the fuck are we going?"

"It's a surprise!"

Ugh.

He didn't respond to any more of my queries after that, trucking on through the House with no hesitation. He had a weird way of taking turns, stopping fully and turning on his heel before beginning again, and he did so in a way that seemed so natural to him despite the awkwardness of the movements. We weren't headed towards the parlor or any of the main common areas of the House, but I did have to brace myself as he bounced us up the stairs to his bedroom hallway. This one was across from mine, one floor up, which he reached by taking a semi-hidden stairway I had yet to realize was even here. It took us directly to a hallway marked by the Roman numeral for two, in the same rusted metal as the one above my own. His bedroom door was the second from the right, a door marred by multiple holes. He finally set me down in front of the door, and I was finally able to finish off my popsicle, which by now had mostly melted into liquid in the bottom of the plastic tube.

Toby kicked the lower hinge of the door with his heavy boot, then pulled the door open without even touching the handle. The door opened out into the hallway rather than into his room, and a beaded curtain covered the doorway, hanging from a few hooks above the inner side of the doorframe, probably to block the view into his room from the holes in the door. He bounced over to his computer, shaking a hand out as he did so, which set me off to do the same. His head ticked to the side, huffing out a breath while he used his free hand to turn his computer back on.

"What exactly did you bring me to your teenage masturbatorium for?" Toby's room wasn't as messy as I expected, but it did stink. Something between dust and the smell of old dirty clothes that hadn't been washed in months. It reminded me too much of my older brother's old room, the floors covered in random bits of debris, dust and crumbs. I tiptoed around the offending particles, wishing I had shoes on so I didn't have to feel the gross texture on my bare feet. Leaning against the back of his desk chair, I caught my last name on the LED screen.

"I found a newspaper talking about your death." He said it so cheerfully, but I felt sick. My face stared back at me, my last yearbook picture. The paper was dated April 26th, 2020.

Ben Davis High School Senior Found Dead In Her Home

Two days ago, Indianapolis police were called to Chapel Hill home of the Harris family, to investigate the sudden death of Ben Davis senior, Lillian M. Harris. Her stepmother reported finding her in her bed that morning, not breathing and her skin cold. Her body had been found soaking wet on top of her bed, with all signs pointing to a death by drowning. Due to the odd nature of her death, foul play is suspect-

I slammed the screen shut, earning an indignant noise from Toby. I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. His hands kept my head up, the scraping of the chair was muffled as he stood up to keep me from falling to the floor too hard. His cheek pressed against mine, arms wrapped around me as we sat on the floor. I couldn't even remember us dropping. Toby's breathing was slow, deliberate. In and out. In. Out. I couldn't hear a heartbeat, but his body hummed, like the sound of a fan running.

"Why would you show me that?" I whispered, my voice threatening to break.

"I thought you'd want to know what happened…" His voice was just as quiet, whispering with me, as if to keep from startling me again. I felt his face move, I could feel the smile on his face. "It's kind of funny how you react to things, you know. You just shut down. Why do you do that? I don't get it~" He sounded so happy when he spoke, all the time. His voice never belied a single negative feeling.

"It's like the life just leaves your eyes sometimes. Do you even realize you do it? Do you have any idea what's going on, Delilah?" The clatter of the chair being thrown halfway across the room was the only thing that registered. Everything keeps moving too fast, I can't tell where I am. My hands are on his throat, he's still fucking smiling. His nails dig into my side, I'm not sure if I can even bleed anymore but if I could that grip would've made me. The fabric of my shirt rips from that grip, the sound of the tears barely registering.

"You aren't human." I whispered.

"Neither are you." He whispered back.

He was right. It's like everything shuts down. I can't tell events are happening at first, it's like it only comes by in pieces. Like I'm missing seconds and minutes and more as time goes on. My body is vibrating, my head won't stay in place.

"Can I ask you something?" The nail of his thumb is still gouged into my side, and the sound of my shirt tearing more accompanies the dull pain of him dragging it up my ribs. My hands don't leave his neck even as he uses his free hand to sit up, keeping me in his lap as he does so. "Why do you react like that to us? Is there something wrong with you? Do you hate us, Twitch?"

"You don't talk like a person."

"Because I'm not a person. Answer my questions. Do you hate us, Twitch?"

I can't answer. I'm too distracted by the buzz in my head, the orange in his eyes. His eyes reminded me of a werewolf's. Like in the old supernatural shows from childhood. Unnatural, glowing, pinpoint pupils.

"You're like Ben."

That didn't go over well. That free hand gripped the back of my head, fingers digging into my scalp. He wasn't smiling at that. His lips pressed against my temple, whispering in a tone that I'd never heard from him.

"Don't ever compare me to that thing."

"You're such a bipolar fucking freak, you know that?" My chest convulsed, trying to hold back the laugh bubbling up, but I failed. I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. The nails in my side finally left, both of his arms moving to hold me closer to him. I dropped my hands down, limp at my sides while he guided my head to rest on his shoulder.

"Peoples' reactions are funnier to me when they have no clue what's going on."

"That doesn't really make sense, Toby."

"That's kind of the point."

None of it makes sense. I can't tell what's going on. I can't feel anything right. I'm missing chunks, what's happening?

What's going on?

He's kind of touchy. Like Ben is, but not as rude. He's a bit softer, just breath on the skin. I still feel like time is jumping around me, like I can't fully tell what's going on, but I don't mind the feeling of the pillow under my head. A blanket on me, him lying on top of it. He hitches a leg over the top of my hip from over the blanket, his arm heavy and pinning me down. I feel like a CD with scratches, hiccuping and jumping through scenes.

I think he knew what that would do. I vaguely recall something Jack said to Slender when he thought no one else was nearby.

She can't know about her death this early. It'll overload her, we can't risk her busting all the damn wires in the House again, Jeff will kill me.

Haha, so he'll be-

Shut up.

I don't know what's happening. Everything's too much, this is too much. Too much is happening at once why can't it all just stop. Stop. Stop stopstopstopstopstopstopstop stop stop stop

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's hard to describe the point of view of a person who doesn't even fully understand what's happening around them. Do you know what brain fog is? It is an…impairment of the brain, that can cause memory loss, an inability to focus, sudden dizziness, and various other issues. How hard is it for someone with brain fog to write about someone with brain fog? Much harder than you might think.

Our poor poor protagonist. Not a single thought in her head that isn't followed by static and blur. Do you find it hard to read? Do you find her words hard to understand?

Tell me, what is your brain like? What do you see every day? Not much, I'm sure. Humans never really were able to see much past the basics.

Human beings are built sturdy, breakable but hardy. To be built like that, they had to give up a few other things, like sight, and hearing. They can only see so far, hear so well. But when they die, they lose that block. They lose the fog. They can't fully understand it, and it can take a while for them to understand, but once they've been dead long enough it becomes easier.

In Twitch's case, she's…more like a battery. Like one you'd use to jump your car when it won't start. She takes it from 10 to a thousand in a few seconds, not for very long, mind you, but it's enough. Though, she is mine so that's to be expected. She's special! Something different.

Poor thing.

It really is lucky that I never found her prior to her death, God that would've sucked for you guys! Haha….Oh the lost plans that caused though…Shame.

Well, enough from me. Let's get back to the show. I'll help you lot understand what she says a little better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~......

Oh, one more thing.

Do you know who he is? Ya know, the one usually talking…Ah

My bad, I shouldn't have expected someone like you to know something like that. Never mind. Don't worry about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had to be carried to the dining room. Toby refused to let go of me the entire time, I actually got to enjoy some time without Ben interrupting to bother me. I could barely hold my head up, but thankfully Charlie left it alone. Jack came by a couple times to run his hand against my forehead, and mumble something to Toby that I could never quite catch. Toby shoved our seats close together, letting me rest my head on his shoulder the entire time, careful not to move so he didn't jostle me off by accident. I think Jack knew what Toby had done, because when I did finally open my eyes to look around the table he looked pissed.

My whole body felt clammy and too warm, like I had a fever. I was stuck in a haze the entire time. Apparently, there was a minimum time everyone had to stay in the dining room. Some weird thing from Charlie, an "optimal amount of time to bond!" When that time was up, surprisingly not many of the Residents left the table. Most stayed, talking, arguing, eating or just watching. A girl with long black hair and fully black eyes hovered near Jeff and Jack's spot, her doll-like face set with a peaceful smile. She wore a long brown coat with fuzz adorning the collar, hem and sleeves. I assumed she was their Jane, but she didn't seem anything like what I expected. She refused to leave Jeff's side the entire dinner, following him as he'd get up to get a drink or something else to eat, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, but as soon as the timer went off, she bolted out of the room, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. It must've been normal since Jeff didn't pay it any more mind than an acknowledging glance in her direction.

Toby leaned so his face was level with mine. He said something, but I didn't catch it at first. He repeated it, but I could only drop my forehead onto his shoulder. It's hard to keep my eyes open right now. His breath passed over my ear, and this time I could hear him.

"Do you want to go out with me on guard today? That's how I found you, you know? I could show you the Pond." I hate his voice. What was his obsession with making me learn about my death? I think he just wants to cause trouble.

I didn't respond to him, but to Toby I'm sure that was just agreement. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head, I wished I could have pulled away. I lost myself in that buzzing, the din of the dining room, their voices echoing off the lofted ceilings. I turned my head up a bit, to look at the ceiling. It was covered in old art like that of a church. Winged men bearing ass and all to the world, curled around the sun. A creature sat in the middle of it, six eyes staring down at us. It felt familiar, and as the din around me died down as everyone began to leave back to their little lairs, I felt its eyes turn on me. Toby huffed under me, and too warm hands tilted my head off of his shoulder.

"You did something baaadddd, Toby. Jack's not gonna be happy." Those eyes turned upon me and I could not speak. I never really thought I'd meet the devil, but here he is holding my head, turning it back and forth like a doll. Everything felt like it was spinning, like a second had turned to eternity.

"Whatever, freak. No worse than anything you would've done to her." Toby sneers, batting Bay's hands away from my head. I could hold it up on my own again, and Toby didn't seem happy about me pulling away from him as he tried to get me to lay on his shoulder again. My eyes were clearer now, my tongue didn't feel like sandpaper. I took a breath, and the devil's eyes were on me again.

Ben smiled, tilting his head at me. "There she is. Ya know, you're lucky. A lot of the time, learning about your own death in any capacity can make ghosts pass on. She isn't like you, Toby, be more careful. And don't take her to that fucking pond." He pushes Toby's head down, earning a swipe and smack that Ben easily dodges. 

"You really need to quit that, though. You know what happens when human ghosts are told about their deaths. Leave it be, Toby, let her find out on her own." With that, Ben flits off, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. Toby follows his presence with a sneer, huffing as he slams his elbow on the table and shoves his chin into the palm of his hand. It's quiet for a moment, and I decide it's much better to just leave now than keep dealing with this. This time, Toby doesn't try to get me to stop. He lets me leave and I can breathe just a bit again.

It is weird not actually needing to breathe, but when I do it, it's like it reminds me of what my body felt like before. I am a ghost in these halls now, footprints bleeding onto the wood and writing my presence on the walls. But with these small moments, it's like I can feel like a person. I hate it here. I want to go home.

I don't feel lucky, I feel like I've been cursed. Maybe I should actually take up Tim on that offer. Learn more about this place. Yeah. I think I'll do that. I want to see what I can use.

[soulless-computerbug]

TATA Ch. 3 - Nuisance

"Alrighty….Lillian Harris, born in 2001, refusing to give me the day, in Indianapolis. 4 feet 11 inches tall, 160 pounds…." Jack stood in front of a very, very tall cart that seemed more like some kind of deconstructed metal shelf that you'd see in a garage or at a mechanic, typing what he was saying into some templated document on a much too small computer on top of said comically large shelf. Twitch herself sat on a stool much too tall for her, one she had to be lifted up by Jack to be sat upon.

Jack's office was chronically neat. Clearly the hollowghast had some form of OCD, because despite the dingyness of the old room, every counter, every cupboard, every surface in the room was perfectly and clinically clean, every single item in its place. Even the pens in the penholder on one of the shelves that had been Macgyvered into a desk was filled to perfectly fit all of the pens with no spaces between them. The cupboards, filled with various first aid supplies and likely ill-begotten medication, were pristinely organized. This guy's got a problem.

"I'm 5 foot. Not 4'11"." Jack paused at the interruption, raising a brow at the tiny ghost. He leaned on the cart, tilting his head at her.

"Uh….no. You're 4'11". Sorry to break the news." He taps the measuring tape in his hand that he had just had against Twitch's body, still extended. Sure enough, when Twitch looked at it, his finger was pinched at the 4 feet 11 inches mark. She only sneered in response, earning a snicker from Jack. "Do you have any tattoos?"

"I have the Sagittarius sign on my left arm."

"I assume you're a Sagittarius."

"Yeah."

"Me too! November 29th. Some say that was the actual date of the first Thanksgiving." He gives her a wink, though it is only responded to by a curl of her lip. "Well, what's that face for?" He chuckles again, a bit exasperated by her response.

"I'm Native American." Oh. Lovely.

His mouth formed an O, and he nodded, pursing his lips. "Ah. My bad." He remained silent after that, not really wanting to further eat his own foot in his attempts to break the ice. "Well, okay….ah….Any…uh medical conditions? When you were alive? Mental illnesses, physical or mental disabilities, etc etc….et…cetera…" He scratches his raptor nails idly against his neck in a nervous tic, which is stopped by Twitch's snicker.

"Dude, I'm fucking with you, it's fine. Why do you need to know all that, anyways?" Her face would not crack from the neutral expression she usually held, her eyes held wide, twitchy and constantly moving to track his every movement and breath.The expression didn't fit the playful tone of her voice. He felt like he was being studied under a microscope, a feeling he did not welcome back after all this time, but he tried to ignore it for the sake of finishing what he had been tasked to do.

"It's….uh, to build a profile of each Resident. It's just like, a procedural thing. Ensures safety of other Residents, yada yada…" He stares at her for a moment, only earning that haunted stare back. He sighs, running his hand over his face. "Look, I can tell that you don't like us, nor do you like being here. But…" He pulls the small rolling chair next to him closer, sitting down, ignoring the protesting squeak of the metal of the poor thing under his weight. "But, this place is the only place you can be right now. We have to figure out why you showed up here, and with how unstable your body clearly is, we have to determine whether or not you could be a severe danger to the beings living here. This is a sanctuary, a safehouse. We have to make sure you aren't a threat. Please, just cooperate for a bit, and you can hide out in your room for the rest of eternity if you want, or you can even leave and hide out in the woods here or another world, I don't care. I just want to make sure the people here will be safe." Her stare doesn't break. She is still silent, and Jack holds her stare as long as he can, but his mind wanders for a moment in the painful silence.

Twitch was a short, stocky thing. A wild mass of dark brown curls reached her chest, the top few inches from her scalp pulled straight by the weight of such thick, heavy hair. The curls were little more than fuzzy ringlets, tangled in each other like weeds on an overgrown lawn. Her skin was pale, but it was splattered with freckles similar in intensity to Ben's, but without the glowing quality. Right now, she wore a plain black long-sleeved shirt tucked into denim jeans that were two sizes too big, held taut against her waist with a plain brown belt. Her feet were bare, stained slightly on the soles by the dirt and dust of the house. Jack couldn't help but think she looked like a doll, her round face and wide, empty eyes that bore into him in a way he had only ever experienced once prior.

Despite the silence only lasting a few seconds, to Jack it felt like ages. She was unnerving for something so unassuming, so small. Something about her presence gave him anxiety.

"Fine. As far as I know, I have ADHD, autism, tourettes and bipolar disorder. Nothing else was ever properly diagnosed, but my family speculated I had schizophrenia like my grandmother. A doctor of mine suspected something called Ellie Danner Syndrome?"

"Ehlers Danlos Syndrome?"

"Yeah, that. Some fucked up thing with my joints and shit. But never got the chance to pursue a diagnosis on that. That's it. Everything else I might've had was bullshit fueled by a stepfather who just wanted to lie about shit I had to get drugs, so." Trauma dumper, much?

"Ah, lore unlock! What level friendship are we now?" Jack threw his hands up a bit, giving a half-smile as he looked down to type what she had said into the document pulled up on the computer near him.

"Zero." Even with how quickly she answered, her lips quirked at the corner, belying her irritation as slight amusement. "You'll have to do better than that if you want proper information."

"I mean….I think you telling me a trauma of your childhood is pretty significant."

"I'm autistic, dude, trauma dumping happens before I even learn peoples' names sometimes. You're not special for knowing something like that about me." Aren't you a ray of sunshine?

"Fair enough….Well. Basic shit's down, now the real issue here is figuring out what kind of poltergeist you classify as. Most human ghosts have a proclivity for electrical manipulation of some kind, but at your level? There's gotta be some kind of inheritance…." He trails off, talking more to himself than Twitch.

"What, like I got these abilities from my ancestors or something? Are you Pocahontas-ing me?"

"Maybe? But it's weird....No I'm not fucking Pocahontas-ing you, weirdo. You put off a lot of energy, but….Sorry, I'm trying not to use weird technical terms. The best way I can explain it is, the way your energy is being read, it looks as if something is blocking it. You put off unnatural amounts of that energy, but you aren't putting off what you should be. You clearly have potential for, honestly who knows how much more power. But for some reason, you're not hitting that threshold. It's like you're being restrained."

"How would you be able to tell that?"

"I'd have to teach you how to read energy logs for it to make sense, and I'm sure you don't want to sit through something like that…."

"Try me."

Her response was a surprise, enough so that Jack sat in silence for a moment, thinking it over. He tilted his head back up to look at her. "Maybe. We'll see. For now, I'd like to be able to help you get settled here,then we can move on to figuring out the finer details. But that requires your cooperation as well. Is there anything I could do to make that easier?"

"Get rid of Ben."

Jack laughed. It was a hearty, deep belly laugh, one that showed off his mouth of jagged, knife-like teeth. Twitch stared at his mouth, locked onto the porcelain bone and blue-black gums. "Gods, I fucking wish. I hate that fucking guy too. But unfortunately, he owns this place. We can't force him out. Sometimes he fucks off into the wilderness for years at a time, though, so hopefully after he loses interest in the new person, aka you, we'll get lucky and he'll disappear forever." He stood up from the chair, swiftly scooping her off the stool with one arm around her waist, keeping her pressed against his side before setting her down carefully. His arm lingered, just in case she wobbled or fell. "He's going to be super annoying for a while, just try and ignore him. He'll lose interest eventually, you're just new and he's a freak."

Twitch didn't answer for a moment, her hand resting on his arm. His skin was warm and rough to the touch, her hands cold and soft in comparison. Bile rose in her throat, as she felt the harsh pounding in her head block out any other noise.

Rip it off.

The thought was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. It was confusing, disorienting, a quick, vile urge bubbling up from deep in her belly. What a nasty thing you are.

Tear it apart. Find his veins, make him into a puppet for you. Hold him by bloody strings, do it.

His nails dug into her arms, not enough to hurt, but enough to bring her back. She looked up into cat-like pupils now focused on her. It was odd, his eyes, they looked as if they shouldn't even be there. The sockets were sunken in, the skin much darker than the rest of his face. But the bulbs pulsed with each movement, the slit shape in them rolling down from the top, as if he walked around with them always rolled back in his head. Now, she was being tracked, his body had tensed, like he knew the wretched thoughts that brewed in her throat.

"Are you okay, Twitch?" His voice was sweet but rough, raspy, a Southern accent just barely tinging his words. How can you think such horrible things about such a nice man, little ghost?

"I'm okay…Just…don't feel very well, I guess." She realized in that moment that her nails had been digging into his arms, much harder than his had been in hers, and she smoothed her hands out, running her thumb over the marks in a way that could've been mistaken as apologetic. But for her, it was more like reverence. Like a desperate desire to put more of them down, to rip him up-

The door slammed open, startling her out of the violent fantasies, and an unfamiliar, harsh voice sang through the air of Jack's office. Jack sighed, standing straighter, though his hands never left Twitch's arms, as he sent a beleaguered look towards the owner of said voice.

A rather large man, though not nearly quite as large as Jack, shoved his way into the office. He stopped short when he saw Twitch, but didn't seem too fazed as he ignored her and pointed at Jack. It took a moment, but the realization dawns on her as to who he is rather quickly. An almost comically pure-white hoodie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dark denim jeans with unknown stains marring the torn and ragged hems of the pantlegs, muddy boots that would surely irk Jack as he stepped onto the pristine tile floor. His hair reached his hips, even when tied back by what looked like a pink shoestring and thrown over his shoulder in the front, black locs that tinged more brown near the ends. It was his face that got her though.

Dark brown skin was marred by flushed patches of burnt pink where he was scarred, torn mouth barely healed into tight, angry-looked scars on the cheeks. His eyes were covered by an odd black substance that seemed to glow almost an iridescent blue in the light, framing intense icy-blue eyes that caused a shocking contrast with the dark coloration of whatever it was around his eyes.

"Jeff….what the hell do you want? I'm busy." Jack seemed only slightly amused by Jeff's entrance. Jeff smiled, the pointer finger being switched out for a middle one in response.

"Uh…my face needs cleaned. Duh." He tilted his head at Jack, sucking his teeth as if the very question was an insult, but it was clear he was teasing him. "That the new girl?" He pointed at Twitch, who hadn't let go of Jack's arms, but she did back up, Jack instinctively placing his hands over her shoulders, hugging her from behind slightly. Jeff's eyebrow quirked at the protective stance, but it didn't really seem like he cared much.

"Yes. Please don't bother her too much, Ben's already on that."

Jeff grimaced, nodding sympathetically. "Yeaahhhhhh, he does that. Sucks to be you, kid. Are you almost done with her, this shit's itchy."

Jack sighed, running his hands over Twitch's hair to muss it up. "Yeah, you're good, Twitch. I'd say head back to your room immediately, this is about the time Ben tends to run around the house, so if you wanna avoid him I'd say go now."

"Oh goodie…" Twitch pushed off of Jack's front, smoothing her frizzy hair back down. Jeff moved out of her way so she could leave, leaning on the wall near the door. His eyes tracked her as she left, and even though she could feel the intense gaze on her she didn't look at him, only rushed out of the room as quickly as she could.

Jeff leaned out of the door to watch her go down the hall, humming to himself, before shutting the door. He leaned against it, watching Jack grab the needed items for a moment before he decided to speak.

"What's her deal? What is she? There's no way she's just a regular human ghost."

"I don't know, Jeff. She hasn't even been here 24 hours yet. We'll figure it out the longer she's here."

"Shaenti and Foss will want to see her."

"Charlie already has an appointment made with Foss. Shaenti is next on the list."

"Shaenti should be first."

"Shaenti….would send her to Unoj if she saw what Twitch can already do. I'd rather us have a chance to properly study her and figure out whether or not she's a real risk before she gets sent up there."

"Juno would take great care of her, why do you want to study her really?"

Jack sighed, slamming the blue box he had in his hands down on the table in front of him. Jeff stared a hole through his back, one hand toying with the end of a rogue loc that had fallen from the ponytail. Jack was silent, staring blankly down at the box.

"The day Puppeteer and Jason died…when those two girls came to the House. Do you remember what day it was?" He didn't look at Jeff when he asked this, one of his nails tapping an anxious beat against the desk.

"It would've been around this time of year right? 4 years ago."

"4 years ago on the dot. April 24th, 2020. Twitch said the last day she remembers, was April 23rd, 2020. She says she's 18, but she was born in 2001. She'd be 22 if that were true. She died the same day those two did. She was brought into Rednels that same day that the explosion happened up north near Pulsar."

"You think she's connected to it?"

"Yes. I really do. It's uncanny. The energy that pours off of her, it's the same. The crater and her, there's something there. I want to go to the lakehouse and see if I can find something to bring back, see if she…resonates with it or something."

"Why not just take her there directly?"

"I don't want her to know, yet. She doesn't understand anything about this place, and you can see it on her face she doesn't want to be here. I don't want to show her anything that could make her run off."

"You think taking her to the lakehouse would run her off?"

"I don't know, maybe." Jack turned, holding the blue box in his hands. "Sit." He pointed to the stool Twitch had been on, placing the box on the shelf holding his computer. As he pulled out the oddly labelled jars that contained a similar liquid to the odd substance on Jeff's face, Jeff continued to stare holes through him, irking the hollow enough that his shoulders rolled in discomfort. "I can feel you staring, creeper."

Jeff snickered to himself. "I just don't get it. Why is there so much eggshell walking with her? She's just a ghost."

"A ghost with the same energy type as the massive crater lake that now cuts us off from the Pulsari, the most important connection we have in this place. Without Pulsar, we are at the whims of whatever can make it through Rednels' portals, which is a hell of a lot of stupid human beings. And stupid human beings could very well be the death of us if we don't control how often they end up in here whilst alive." Jack turns, a small wipe in his hands. Jeff tilts his head back, staring upwards at the ceiling so that Jack could clean off the excess of the goop on his face.

"I don't think it's as serious as you're making it out to be, honestly."

"Well, I hope it isn't. I'd rather make a fuss and everything turn out to be okay, then to not worry about it at all and us all end up dying horrific deaths. But that's just me, if you want to be consumed by the heat death of universe by all means, go right ahead."

"Oh my god it is so not that bad, dude." Jeff chuckles when he's met with a flick to his forehead.

"Your eyes are looking better, now that you're finally letting me take care of them. Good job."

"Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hemmersen?" Jeff smiles, that smile growing wider when Jack rolls his eyes in response.

"You're much too young for me, Mr. Hodek."

" It's Woods now, jackass."

"I will kill you."

"Hot."

Jack scoffs, gripping Jeff's jaw to keep him in place as he begins to replace the goop on his face with fresh goopage.

"What is this shit even called?"

"Talkel."

"Tall-kell?"

"Yes. It's from a plant near Free's trailer at the edge of the woods. Same name. It heals surface level injuries and can repair scarring. Perfect for you, huh?"

"I guess so. Smells like petrichor."

"Yeah, better than what the plant itself smells like. That shit smells like rotting ass, be glad I don't make you go get it yourself."

"Oh you're so generous!" This time he was hit with the bottom side of the jar. "You and your abusive tendencies."

"Jeffery Hodek."

"Government naming me?! Damn!"

Jack only sighed again, shaking his head as he capped the jar and placed it back in the box. He stood there quietly for a moment, hand lingering on the box. He felt Jeff's forehead press against his arm, warm hands gently wrapping around his wrist and forearm.

"What are you doing?"

"Being affectionate, jackass."

"Disgusting."

"Yeah yeah……Do you really think she could be connected to that crater? You realize how bad her being here will be if that's true."

"I'm hoping for the best, preparing for the worst."

"Ze'ev is worried too. That orb he has has been going dark, he says."

"We'll be fine, Jeff. You're done, go on. I have work to do before we head to Foss's place."

Jeff let go of Jack's arm, hopping off of the stool. "When are y'all going?"

"Charlie wants to do it around the same time as the popcorn job in Harlem, kind of hide it from her."

"Good idea. Wouldn't want the nuclear bomb going off before we can figure out how big the blast is gonna be."

"That makes…no sense."

"'Cuz Twitch….she's the…nuclear bomb." Jeff makes a ticking noise, followed by a gesture mimicking a boom, his lips puckered while he made the accompanying noise.

"Don't…Just don't, get out." Jack begins to push the younger man towards the office door, ignoring his attempts at swatting his hands away. Jeff fights back the whole way, leaning on Jack's much larger hands with his own, but he is rather easily shoved towards the door, giggling the whole way. "Out!" He yanks the door open, shoving Jeff through. A dull thud sounds as Jeff kicks the door after it is shut in his face, followed by another giggle. Jack presses his head against the cool metal of the door, rubbing his face in exhaustion.

"God, this won't end well…"

No. It won't~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To her credit, she tried to avoid him. But a freak will always be a freak, and Ben was certainly a freak. Like a bloodhound, he must've sniffed her out the second she'd left Jack's office. He blocked the doorway that would have allowed her to escape the narrow hallway and reach the foyer again, leaning with his hands gripping the frame above the space that seemed to have once held a door, if the broken, rusted hinges were any indication.

"Well, hello~" His words always seemed to hold a purr to them, like he was growling each letter out from his chest. The sound rolled over her skin, pushing that nauseous feeling to the surface again. She only stared at him, trying her best not to react, but something about the smug grin on his face made it so much harder.

"Well, what's that look for, ghost? Lookin' at me like I killed your dog." His accent was weird, one she couldn't place. Sometimes he'd sound almost British, other times like he was straight from the middle of bumfuck country. Other times, it just sounded like he had a speech impediment, tripping over certain sounds if they were too close together, everything slurring together. "Whatchya doooiiinnn~?"

"None of your fuckin' business, Isabella." I don't think he's going to get that joke, sweetheart.

"Who the fuck is Isabella?" See?

"Can you move the fuck out of my way, dude?" She scoffs, smacking her hands against the sides of her legs in annoyance. That only made his grin grow wider. His teeth were eerily straight, pure white, his gums too red, too saturated. He was so normal yet unnatural looking, like God had taken a person's face and overlaid it on top of itself an infinite amount of times. He looked like every unimportant blonde man she'd ever met in life, and absolutely no one she'd ever seen before all at the same time.

"Where you trying to go, ghost?" He can't hit the S and T correctly, only a hiss coming out.

"None of your business, move."

"Make me."

"Why?"

That caught him off guard. Why? Why does she need to make you?

"Why?" He repeated back to her.

"Yeah. Why do I need to make you move? Why can't you just get out of the way? Can you please just move, Ben?" She sounded so tired, like nothing in the world would make her happier than being far, far away from him. He didn't respond to her, only staring down his upturned nose at her. Electric green eyes that had pupils too large to look normal, like he was on drugs. She could almost see herself in the reflection. He hummed, a soft noise in the back of his throat, before finally-

Finally

-moving out of the way to let her pass. She bit back a sound of sheer relief, rushing past him like her lack of life depended on it. He watched her go, not saying a word, but that shit-eating grin pulled its way back onto his face.

"Hey." He called out to her again, eye twitching slightly when she doesn't stop for him. "How'd you die, Twitch?"

That stopped her. He smiles, silently stepping up behind her as she remains frozen.

It was a cruel question. A weird one, one she wasn't expecting. Why'd he say it? Why is he asking? Why is he talking to you? What does he want? What's going on?

How did you die, Twitch?

Hands this time. Hands brushing her hair away from her shoulders, exposing delicate skin. The rustle of clothing as he leaned over her, the tip of his nose barely hitting her cheek. "Ya know….if you don't remember….I could help you find out." His thumb rubbed over her jugular with an unexpected gentleness. She whipped around, tearing herself from his grip. He remained in the same position, slowly relaxing himself and raising his hands in submission. He leered at her with a faux innocent expression.

"What? Just offering~ You're new, unpredictable, your power is clearly something special. Wouldn't you want to know how you died? I think it'd help you understand yourself a bit more-"

"Shut the fuck up." Oh, my. "Don't touch me. I haven't even been here a day and you've already made it abundantly clear that you are fucking weird. Leave me alone, Ben."

"Dude, I lived here first. You're the one that acts so weird around me. I think you're imagining shit." He waved his hands around as he spoke, letting his wrists fall limp to punctuate the slack-jawed, dopey eyed expression he was giving her.

"Are you fucking gaslighting me?" Her voice pitched in indignation, still only amusing him further.��

"What the fuck does that word even mean? That sounds made up." While he did look genuinely confused about the word, she didn't care. He's so annoying. Don't you just wish you could-

"Oh, kill yourself." Oh, my. Ben guffaws, cackling under his breath, and lets his arms fall slack at his sides. He stands up straighter, shrugging his shoulders.

"Suit yourself, ghost." He took two large steps to close the gap, giggling at the flinch he gains from her as his hand glides across her belly on his way past her. "If you wanna know, come and find me~"

Oh, what a fucking nuisance you are, you vile creature.

[soulless-computerbug]

What is love ? 🗣️

[soulless-computerbug]

Time and Time Again Act 1: Another Eternity - Chapter 1: Entrenched

mentally ill girl that was obsessed with creepypasta finally breaks her delusions only to be hunted down and killed by the very creep she was horrifically obsessed with, then ends up in exactly what she thought their world was like, consistently having every delusion affirmed and realized to be true in some way plus more, and she decides to end the lives of every single creepypasta and every timeline that contains them because shes bitter she had her desperate depressive desires realized only after she had finally decided to try and heal and move on. and thus she manages to rip the barriers between timelines to essentially nuke time itself just to end as many versions of the creepypastas she can get her hands on. have fun. This is a horror series, and it is 18+. There will be smut eventually.

Do you hear them?  Shared voices screaming the same screams of agony and terror.

I hear them. They whisper in my ears when I sleep. There are times at night, though, when that isn’t the only thing.

His hands. Cold. Long, bony fingers. Sharp, jagged nails. They’ll press at my back. Run up my spine. I can feel his breath, his body.

Who are you?

I am everything.

It was weird finding my own body in my bed. Lips blue, the veins so easy to see. I wasn’t in my home.. I was in that house. I wasn’t at home, with my baby brother crying downstairs. I was in that house with the smell of piss and shit hitting me in the face like a baseball bat. I wasn’t at home, hearing the baritone of my father’s voice through the walls. I was at that house, hearing that piece of shit’s snoring rattle the door.

I could see the dog again. She’s old now. I could pet her. She recognized me, she was so excited. But she never barked, like I thought she would. I think she knew. I think she knew what happened to me. She waddled her way into my room and laid by the foot of my old bed. I don’t know why he had kept it, but he's a freak anyways.

He didn’t notice me crawling onto his bed. I think he thought it was the dog. He didn’t think that when he started choking on his blood. The knives in that house were always flimsy. The metal broke off and stayed lodged in his larynx. His whore wasn’t there. Good. Better for her to come home to him. And at least someone will do something with the dog.

Find him. And take it as a warning.

I left the house through the back door. But before I could even step on that rotting porch, my vision went black. It was like loading into a new area of a game. But I was now in front of a burning house.

I know this. I know this place. Her house. Grey eyes. Blonde hair. I know you.

She knows me. She knows what’s happening. She knows she'll never see me again.

I walk through those woods without realizing it. I can’t see anything. Nor hear. All I can feel is a cold breath at the back of my neck. I can feel those hands again.

I don’t come out of that stupor until I’m standing on a stone bridge overlooking a river, right on the edge. My toes are hanging off of it, and I can see my reflection in the water.

Fall.

Fall.

Fall.

I can’t hear anything. Or feel anything. I can’t even feel whether the water is cold or not. But I can see. I can see the white hair. The red eyes. The shadowy skin. I know her.

I stared at her, and I think I cried. I know her. I know you. But what was your name? Who are you?

I was you.

I was back at the start of the woods. I felt the wind push me forward, and my bare feet being jabbed by chestnut spurs on the ground. Suddenly, I felt stone, and when I looked down, I was walking along a thin stone path that wound its way through the woods. I caught a glimpse of him again, and I ran.

It's cold in the water. My throat hurts, I couldn't tell if it was from me screaming or if it was because I was suffocating. It didn't feel like I needed to breathe. I don't know. I don't know what's happening. His hands were rougher this time, worn. Callouses on the palms, the voice is different. I can't stay anymore.

Hands grab onto my shirt, ripping me out of the water and dragging me. I can’t see who it was. I feel my head hit the rocks and it goes dark again.

Wake up.

I used to feel like I was being devoured by him. The feeling of him. The sound of him. The smell of him. He’s been here for so long, and I never knew why. But seeing him in front of me, made me nothing but angry. A different creature from my imagination made real stood before me on the bank of the pond now. His very existence confirmed my worst delusions. Barred mask, hatchets hanging at the waist, orange goggles. I wanted to break those goggles. He stared at me, wide eyed behind the orange plastic, and he was breathing heavily. He stood halfway, partially crouched, one hand still attached to the hatchet currently buried in the ground.

Buried in my neck.

He pulled it away, staring at me. He spoke slowly, enunciating every letter as carefully as possible. "Who are you?"

I couldn't answer. I just stared at him. It took me a second to realize, but the hatchet had phased through. My hands shook as I checked my neck, not able to move any other part of my body. He and I stared at each other, not speaking. After a moment, he sighed, yanking the weapon out of the ground, and my neck, before it back into its loop on his belt. "Jesus fucking Christ, this is Jailor's job. Alright, come on!" He kneeled down beside me, sliding his arms under my shoulders and knees. He lifted me like it was nothing, launching me a couple inches into the air as he stood up, causing me to cling to the fabric of the denim jacket he had over his hoodie. He didn't ask me any other questions, he didn't even speak for the rest of the time he walked me to god knows where.

Every cell in my body felt like it was on fire. Every time he'd twitch, it'd set me off too, earning an amused huff from the man carrying me. I couldn't look anywhere but at the silver button on the jacket he wore, my thumb earning a line in the skin from how hard I was holding it against the metal. When I finally turned my head to see where we were going, I felt the bile creeping up.

The massive doors of some unknown wood were adorned in giant, heavy metal filigree patterns, with just as large knock rings. The manor itself was easily 5 stories tall, and I was too busy trying not to throw up on the serial killer I previously thought was no more than a fiction, and in the best case a delusion, who was still carrying me. He set me down carefully on a stone bench to the right of the doors, then grabbed hold of a thick, heavy rope that was attached to the knocker on the door. He nearly fell off the first half of the marble steps that led to this door as he did so, jumping backwards and pulling as if it were nothing, and pried it open. As soon as he did, he bounded back up the steps, scooping me back up from the bench, and waltzing into very open floored parlor.

The roof was covered in some kind of mesh, the wood beams behind it. It connected each of the larger support beams to the smaller ones, and seemed to cover a few small holes that had yet to be patched up. From the parlor, only 3 stories were visible, accessible by a set of giant stairs that stood smack dab in the middle of the room on the other end from the doors. Only a few people were in this room, now staring at me and the man carrying me. I couldn't pull my eyes away from one view in particular.

His hair was a paler blonde than I was expecting. The tips of his pointed ears barely peaked out from the shaggy mop of hair on his head, the black tank top he was wearing exposing tan skin with glowing freckles splattered across the surface of his arms, face and shoulders. He was sitting on the steps of those huge stairs, picking at his nails, legs sprawled to take up as much space as possible. He barely glanced up at me, then suddenly did a double take, his face scrunching in confusion. His nose turns up slightly at the end, and his forehead wrinkles with the expression. He had opened his mouth to speak, but the one we call ‘Masky’ beat him to it.

“What the hell is this, Toby?!” Toby scoffed as he plopped me down again, his hand hovering at my back as I regained my footing. The older man stomped his way over, almost like a child throwing a tantrum, which earned an amused look from Ben on the steps, who now leaned forward to listen more closely to whatever drama was about to unfold in front of him.

“Found a demon thing in the river!” Toby didn’t stutter like most people thought he did. His tics were a lot like mine. Just body rolls and shakes. He’d crack his neck a lot, along with any bone he could get to pop. Once in a while he’d jerk, or whistle. But it wasn’t much. His hair was as curly as mine, but much shorter, and it stuck up every which way while his goggles were pushed back. His eyes were an unnatural yellow, now squinted into an annoyed expression as he curled his lip at Masky.

“It just looks like a regular teenager to me.” Masky sneered at me, but my eyes had refocused on BEN. By now, he’d realized I was staring at him, and he stared back, clearly unamused. He stuck his tongue out at me, showing off a tongue piercing, and a weird band around the tip of it. I snorted quietly, my eyes finally moving to Masky, which earned a weird jolt from the man, his shoulders quirking up despite him trying to play it off as him shifting his stance. “How old are you?”

“18.” It was hard to speak. My throat hurt from the water I had inhaled in the river, and it felt like my lungs couldn’t even contract properly. Every breath hurt, but for some reason it felt like I kept forgetting to breathe. Every sudden inhale was met with Toby's arm twitching, his hand flexing as if he were preparing to catch me if the gasping turned to fainting.

“You sure as fuck don’t look 18.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Hm. What the hell were you doing in the river? How’d you even make it into these woods?” He was leaning over me now. His voice sounded the same as it had in those old videos. I had always liked Marble Hornets. Tim Sutton was a funny guy, pleasant to watch. This man wasn’t pleasant. He smelled like old cigarettes and stale cologne.

“I don’t know. Found it.”

“Not exactly a fucking answer, kid.”

“Well, it’s my answer.” I stepped back from him, rubbing my nose. “You fucking stink, dude.” Toby snickered at my insult, and even Ben coughed a bit from the staircase to cover up his laugh.

Masky growled under his breath, clearly not happy with me. But before could say anything, he shot up, back going perfectly straight, and slowly stepped away from me. Almost silent footsteps pattered behind me, and I could feel him before I saw him. Pitch black tendrils latched around my waist, lifting me into the air.

He had a face, just not what you’d think. It was pure white, deep indentations signaling where his eyes, nose and mouth were supposed to be, covered by the sickly pale mass of skin. He was definitely slender, though the classic suit fit him well. His long, clawed hands were placed, intertwined, in front of him, as he brought me high enough to be eye-level, at least 10 feet or more off the ground.

“Who are you?” His voice was normal. It was a deep, easy-to-listen-to voice. One you could fall asleep to. It held no static, I felt no sickness hearing it. His jaw never moved, though.

“I honestly don’t know anymore.” I stared at the tendril surrounding my waist. It was a void-type of black. Like if you stared at it long enough you’d fall into it, be consumed by it. It had an almost purple shine to it in the light of the chandelier that hung from the ceiling. I ran my fingers over it, and an annoyed huff let out of Slender. It felt velvety, and was very cold. I think he spoke again, but I wasn’t paying attention. A clawed finger hooked under my chin, lifting my head up.

“What name do you use, then, child?” He repeated to me, and I felt weird. I felt my entire body was buzzing, vibrating. I spoke before I realized it.

“Twitch.” As if on cue, my fingers twitched, and my shoulders rolled. I didn’t like the irony of the movements, but oh well. This was already a Wattpad fanfiction in the making anyways.

“Well, Twitch. How did you get here? There is a barrier that surrounds this place. You shouldn’t have been able to get in.”

“Maybe it’s cause I’m dead.”

Slender’s shoulders dropped, his head tilting. He had a vaguely unamused expression, an attempt at a frown playing on the skin around his jaw. “That would be a reason, yes….But even so, you shouldn’t have been able to get to that river, dead or not.”

“I don’t really remember walking through the woods. Also, I really can’t breathe like this, can you please put me down?” I tapped on the tendril holding me. It was velvet to the touch, despite the wet sheen that covered it. It was cold, like ice made up the core and the frost poured out from within, and I could feel it creeping through my still soaked shirt.

“If you’re dead, you won’t exactly need to breathe.”

“I really don’t care, it’s fucking uncomfortable. Put me down, please.” I felt the panic creep up my throat, the cold stealing away any breaths I tried to take. The muscles in my neck tightened, making it harder and harder to keep my head up. Someone spoke, but I couldn't tell who or what they were saying, only feel the rush of air as I was quickly lowered to the floor. The cold of the tile wasn't as bad as the tendril, but it still felt like my head was imploding. The pressure wouldn't stop growing, my eyelids twitched as I tried to keep them open. As my head lolls to the side, I feel the last bit of breath leave me, followed by something wet leaking out of my mouth, bubbling and gurgling in the back of my throat.

I heard him before I saw him. I just kind of knew.

“Why the fuck did you bring them here, though? Did you think Slender would be happy you brought a random ghost into the Hall?” 

“If you had seen what I saw, dude, you’d get it. Plus, they kinda look like that one kid, don’t they?” Toby seem more excited than he should be, earning a hiss from Ben.

“Shut it! We don’t talk about them. What exactly happened with this kid that made you think you should bring them here?”

“Y’all are loud.” I finally spoke, opening my eyes, landing on Ben. He had an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth, a grey flannel now covering his arms. He jolted when I spoke, dropping the cigarette, which he barely managed to catch with his hands.

“Fucking shit!” He placed his hand over his heart, bracing himself on the rusty bar along the side of the bed.

“How in the hell did I scare you?” I laughed at his reaction, shaking my head as I sat up. Toby pressed a button on the side of the hospital-type bed I was laying in, causing the head to raise. It looked like some broken down version of a regular hospital bed, but the bars were rusted, the mattress uneven, and it took forever for the head to raise, Toby having to bang the remote against the side of the bed a couple times before it actually went up all the way.

“Just...wasn’t expecting you to talk.” Ben's voice irritated me. Even other S was punctuated by a lisp, an indiscernible accent muddling his words.

My eyes shifted to Toby, who now had his facemask on again, but had foregone the famous goggles, and it was clear he was smiling under the mask. “Why are you so excited?”

“What? It gets boring around here when there aren’t any new people. This could be cool!” He bounces in his spot, idly moving his jaw up and down under the mask over and over. He stared at me with wide, yellow-orange eyes that didn't quite fit his face right. His eyelashes were longer on the bottom, and a lighter brown then the rest of his hair, making his eyes look even more unnatural.

“You're...fuckin' weird, Toby.”

“Wait, how do you know my name?” He stopped bouncing, looking confused. I laugh at this.

“There’s this thing on the internet called Creepypastas, Toby, and you’re one of them. Of course I know your name. Speaking of. You’re Ben, right? Ain’t you supposed to be some kind of hivemind or something? You look like a normal dude, aside from the freaky freckles and the ears. Alex’s recently been putting out a bunch of weird ass videos again, so…” I tilt my head at him, raising my eyebrows. I didn't really expect either of them to know what I meant, but I felt a need to test it, to see what they knew outside their world. He stares at me for a moment, then chuckles. His mouth quirks halfway to a smirk before he tries to hide.

"Yes, I'm Ben, though I don't really go by that a lot of the time." He wiggles his fingers in the air, punctuating "Ben" with a sarcastic tone.

“Wait, who’s Alex?” Toby asks.

“One of my Conduits.”

“Ohhhh.”

“The fuck is a Conduit?” I find it hard to keep focus on BEN’s face. My eyes keep drifting all over him, and by the smirk that starts forming on his face, I’d say he’d noticed. His eyes were an unnatural shade of green, with a yellowish ring surrounding his pupil, the whites beneath the iris much more visible than Toby's.

“A Conduit is a human who’s very susceptible to energies put out by supernatural beings. Alex is one of the ones I chose to use. Most of the people I’ve used are part of me, too. But consuming Conduits is only something a Cyberdemon can do.” You're so full of shit. You're lying.

“So who’s body is that that you’re wearing?”

“The cutest one.”

“Fair fucking enough. What’s a Cyberdemon?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You give me a lot of answers.”

He smiles at this, and all I can focus on is the unnatural amount of sharpened teeth in his mouth. I barely registered half of what he said, because every time his mouth opened, I felt like I could feel the jagged edges of his teeth against my throat with every word.. “Fair fucking enough. A Cyberdemon’s one of the oldest types of elemental creatures , though they weren’t always called that. It’s a being that can affect the very electrons in atoms and control electricity or electronically-inclined items, and in this day and age, with so many types of electronics, we can permeate almost any and everything. I’m one of the last ones, though. For whatever reason, they just don’t appear anymore. Hiveminds are common in Cybers, as is reincarnation, probably because of the amalgamation of souls.” Are you done talking yet?

“That’s fucking cool.” You're a liar. What the fuck kind of bullshit story are you spinning here? Talking to talk, you are lying.

He snorts, nodding. “I guess. So...the hell you doing here? Why were you in the river?” I was following you. I want you dead.

“I found myself in front of the woods, and just started walking. I couldn’t really tell where I was till I was on the bridge. Then I just….jumped. I think I was trying to drown myself.”

“Why?” He stared at me with a shit-eating grin, those eerie fangs visible again. His tongue ran over one of the canines, the white ball on the bottom of his tongue piercing wiggling back and forth as he did so. I don't like the way you're looking at me. His eyes wrinkled at the edges when he smiled a knowing smile.

“I don’t know.” I turned my head to stare at the door, and the buzzing came back. “My body’s buzzing again. I don’t know why.” I felt like I was going to throw up again, I could feel whatever was fouling my organs claw its way upwards from my stomach to my throat. Or was it my lungs?

I looked back at the two, but now Ben had a shocked look on his face. “What the fu…” He mumbled under his breath, staring at the space above me. An excited grin crossed his face again, letting out a shocked laugh. I looked up as well, and the wires that had been hanging behind the bed, connecting to the monitors around me, were now crawling up the wall like snakes. Or maybe vines. Or maybe worms. They continue up and up, sprawling across the entire wall behind me, stretching and straining against the movement. One snapped out of the wall, and stayed floating in the air, the others following it. They hovered for a moment, the air filling with static, as each wire pops out of wherever it was connected and created a wall of rubber and copper spikes all along the cracked concrete. Me, Toby and Ben all stare at the display for a moment, until they finally drop.

They hung limply against the walls, some hitting the ground. The air soon calmed, but Toby’s hair stuck up in certain places, mine and Ben’s untouched. “That’s…” Ben starts, laughing, and stares at me. A smirk pulled at his mouth, one he quickly tried to hide. I felt the bile crawling up my throat, my own mouth twitching, the words I wanted so badly to hiss out at him threatening to spew out of my lips. My breath quickened, saliva pooling in my mouth. I was grinding my teeth so hard my jaw twinged, but I couldn't force the words out. A loud pop interrupted my struggle, and a fire lit itself in the back of my neck. It felt like my brain shut down, my entire body going taut, like every muscle was about to snap and explode like stale sewing thread. A choked noise was the only thing that could make it out of my throat, and the lights went out.

[soulless-computerbug]

something something proxy band au

Kate was up first bc I came across the horrible realization that I’ve never drawn her on this account huh????

anyway, they’re in a hardcore band together and kate’s the frontwoman. toby’s up next <3

[soulless-computerbug]

Don´t fret precious I´m here, step away from the window

Go back to sleep

Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils

See, they don´t give a fuck about you, like I do.

[soulless-computerbug]

LETS GOOOOOO so excited for getting the server revamped 😩 I missed you guys. So much. Everyone needs to join and come see us <3 Missed u PaMa

SUBBY MY BABY AAAAAHHHH 🥹🥹

Yes yes i agree!! I've missed everyone, I missed having stream nights and just chattering to people and sharing headcanons and ideas. I know its still prolly gonna be quiet cuz i know most of us are either in uni or working 😔😔 but we can still have a fun place to chill out and hang out!

I missed you too 💜💙🩷🩵 so wonderful to have you back 🤗🤗

[soulless-computerbug]

Promo for my Server again!

I overhauled a couple things and added more bots, and its been a while anyways. My discord server is still up!! We're mostly a creepypasta server still but it's not just for creepypasta.

Server is 16+ with designated, locked away 18+ spaces. I am meticulous about NSFW content being strictly in their chats, so note that that is a big deal to us to keep that stuff in its proper place.

That being said we are also queer and NSFW friendly. Just keep it in their respective chats and we're all good :3

We have dedicated channels for art, fanfics or other writings, chats for headcanons and places to infodump with other people, and a chat for sharing games.

Both pluralkit and tupperbox available. System and plural safe server, no anti-endo shit allowed, y'all can talk that shit out. I mean safe for *all* systems.

I do have a minecraft realm that doesn't get used a lot. I am also working on a modded minecraft server but that's a little sticky on the connection part, but rn at least we got vanilla java minecraft :3

I stream games a lot to just chatter with people. We got roles to ping for these calls or for game nights

We're still kinda small but that just means we're cosy <3 Dm me or @soulless-computerbug to request an invite if you wanna join

[soulless-computerbug]

Alright I guess I'm putting down some of my trans headcanons for ben so. here ya go 👏

Ben ascended when he was still pretty young, and he died in 2002 so there wasn't a whole lot of community or anything he could look to. Being in an abusive home definitely didn't help either, he didn't quite understand what he was feeling or what to do with it. he just knew that it felt . . . not right whenever teachers or classmates called him a girl.

He told Matt and Rosa first. Rosa took to it much easier than Matt did, but he came around eventually too. He swore them to secrecy, terrified that something somehow would get back to his father. So he didn't tell any other classmates, and only the two of them would refer to him as a boy. But he was okay with that, cuz they were the only two that mattered.

Matt was still hella overprotective of him, but it steered away just a bit from being an overprotective guard dog, to actually showing him how to throw some punches and stand his ground a little bit more. He always felt he should've taught him more, even after his ascension.

Ben's mother, Lisa, was supportive of him, but scared of her husband. He told her one night in tears, and she sat with him and held him for what felt like all night. Lisa was a hairdresser, and eventually he asked her if she could cut his hair. They both talked about it for a long while, trying to think of something that would make him happy without arousing too much suspicion. She cut it into a chin-length, choppy style, and bleached it blond for him.

When he ascended and met BEN, it gave him the option of changing his face and body. Technically, since he wasn't a physical person anymore, he could do whatever he wanted with how he looked. And really, aint that the trans dream of being able to put yourself into a character creation thing? video game style? His face isn't wholly inspired by Link, he's always preferred his mom's blonde hair to him and his father's dark brown hair. He kept his green eyes and faint freckles, but he took her strawberry blond.

(BEN also let him pick its own face, since it didn't really care what it looked like and it thought it would make him happy. hence the Saria to his Link)

Ben actually didn't change his birth name until he ascended. He didn't like his name before (well he didn't hate it, but it didn't feel like him) but he didn't feel safe changing it or had an idea of what to change it to. He shared BEN's name, because it was the first option that felt safe and kind of right.

Some more NSFW hcs under the cut

So, while he could technically change his face around, the same wasn't quite true anatomy speaking. BEN could only create what he knew from, and well. The two of them were pretty young when Ben first ascended, and he had some sexual trauma, so they weren't really raring to go googling dicks on the internet to figure out what that was gonna be.

So truthfully, you could say he "didn't fully transition" for a good few years, up until Matt and Dusk also ascended. With the two of them ascended and assimilated into the hivemind, BEN had some actual dicks to work with at that point.

Dusk is actually also bigender! So he actually kinda wanted to experience feeling like an actual girl. So him and Ben just kinda casually swap bits 90% of the time :3

Matt's was a lil too big to handle so he gets to keep his dick usually

When they're "in front" or the dominant person piloting the body, the body automatically adjusts a bit to match their height and build, but it can't match the anatomy. So for all of the boys with dicks, actually, its a hard light projection. A glamour of sorts if you will. For those like Matt and Dusk that have the actual hardware, everything functions as normal. For Ben, since he doesn't inherently have the hardware, sensation for him is a bit weird. But unless he is very comfortable with his partner, he'll still present with a penis for sexual encounters.

(I need yall to know that my phone autocorrected penis to punishment what)

However, the false projection, glamour, whatever u wanna call it, needs focus and control to maintain. So if he gets too worked up or overstimulated during sex, he kinda glitches and loses his dick if you will. He's not necessarily dysphoric with that, and he has no problems strapping up if that happens, but he won't let you use that hole unless he really really likes and trusts you.

Also since the body technically has no cum, all the boys fire blanks. The fluid that comes out is just the plasma cooling fluid that runs through the body like a circulatory system. No babies here.

Up in the air if the body could carry a child tho

[soulless-computerbug]

yall want the toby fic to be multiple parts?