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willowswiththorns · 1 year ago

Note

I see Marble Hornets and humbly ask for Masky, yandere or the nsfw alphabet whichever one you feel more comfortable writing I will graciously accept pleaseeeee!!!

Now usually I’ll do one or the other, but I’m a big fan of Masky/Tim. So I’m gonna do yandere this time since there’s not a lot of that. This will follow a bit under the Slenderverse ( marble hornets ) version of Masky and not too much into the Creepypasta Masky version. I’ll be picking some stuff out of both overall, but mostly leaning toward Marble hornets. Thank you sm for requesting! - Willow

Warnings :, slight dub-con( if you squint) , captivity , Stockholm syndrome, restraints, murder, stalking, minors do not interact

Masky/Tim Wright Yandere A-Z

YANDERE A-Z first

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Masky and Tim equally don’t know how to show affection properly, so when it’s shown, it’s very very intense.

Masky mostly has a hard time emotionally speaking on his love towards you. You’ll mostly have physical contact from him. ( him holding you down and not letting you go)

Tim is the opposite side of the coin. He’s a bit awkward when it comes to showing physical affection, but he tries his best to show his love to you verbally.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Masky has no problem with spilling blood if it means you stay with him forever. He’ll kill anyone that gets in his way from his goal, you.

Tim isn’t much for killing, he’s the type to not do it unless it’s a necessary action. I.e. self defense.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

I’ve seen a lot of fanfics where Masky is kind and caring. That’s not it here I’m sorry.

Masky is definitely the type to belittle and mock you while you are under his care. If you can call it that

Masky is more ruthless than most think. He will tie you down if need be. He doesn’t want you trying to run away from the cabin he’s hid you in.

If you are a fighter, he takes his time with you. He will knock you over and make you struggle to try and get up. He will force you to look at him whenever just to show you he is in control.

Tim isn’t going to mock you, in fact he feels a lot of guilt abducting you. He definitely tries to make up for the time his other side kicks in. He has little to no memory when Masky is in control, he only knows what happens when you tell him, or when Brian tells him.

Either way, Tim feels a lot of remorse for your situation, but it’s not like he’s going to up and let you go.

He secretly likes that you’re stuck with him, he’ll blame Masky for everything that goes wrong, but it’s not like he’s going to do anything about it.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Masky will take out any of his pent up frustration onto you ( sexually mostly) that or he’ll pull your hair just to make you tear up.

Tim does his best to respect any boundaries you set. The only one that he tends to cross is whenever he wants to hold you in his arms. This burly man just wants to feel you in his arms , and he can’t help himself.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Masky bares nothing to his love. He’s not even emotionally in check with himself, how would he be able to be open with his victim partner?

Tim has a lot of trouble opening up to his love, but all it takes is one time for him to tearfully open up about

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Masky can and will rock your shit if you tried to fight him. He does not care one bit if you get knocked out or have a concussion after this match, this man fights to win.

Tim doesn’t want to deal with any fighting , the most he’ll do is to try and stop you from hitting him. He’ll grab your wrists or ankles to stop him from hitting or kicking him. A frown would be very apparent on his face as he’s asking you to stop trying to hurt him.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

This isn’t a game to either of them. Both just want you to accept their love. Tim just wants you to accept their love and accept him as who he is while Masky doesn’t care if you love him or not, he just wants control over you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Masky will put you through hell a lot. The most specific time where life was made a living hell for you was when you tried to run away. You got a good bit away from the cabin, but got envitably lost in the woods.

It wasn’t until you bumped into Brian, who picked you up and dragged you back to Masky.

Once Masky came back to the cabin after trying to find you, he waited for Brian to leave before dragging you to the back room.

He’d strip you down and put a chain around your ankle tightly. Letting you have just amount of length from the chain to roam around the empty room and to the bathroom.

He’d leave you in that dark back room to starve for a few days. It won’t be until the 3rd day that he lets you out, waiting for you to beg for food. Masky is petty enough to probably eat food in front of you just to make you angry. Of course once you apologize for running away and swearing to stay by his side will he finally give you food and unchain you.

Tim’s worst moment is when you tell him you hate him for the first time. He’d react negatively, not knowing what to say, he’ll just avoid you because he can’t handle the idea of you hating him.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Neither of them truly have an idea for the future, given their current position with the operator /slenderman, the future isn’t really guaranteed. Tim wants to atleast one day have a family with you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Masky definitely gets jealous, he tends to take out his jealousy onto you physically though.

Tim doesn’t take his jealousy onto you physically, he will get pouty and demand for reassurance that you love and need him.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Masky is very cruel with his darling, his kisses are rough and feral. He doesn’t give you time to breathe and he doesn’t let you try to pull away either.

Tim wants you to feel safe and comfortable with him. He wants you to want to kiss him. His kisses are gentle and warm. His lips taste like smoke and coffee

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Masky doesn’t really court, he just hunts

Tim is more courting, he’s just awkward about it. He’d start by watching your routine, seeing what you like and dislike. He wants you to see him as the perfect suitor for you. He’ll try to bump into you at a coffee shop or a store you like.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

They’re both the same around everyone else for the most part, except their affections are only for you.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Masky will full on throw hands with you or isolate you.

Tim will scold you and at very very worse maybe lock you in both of y’all’s room if you’re acting up.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Masky will take away a lot of rights from you. This man is all about having power over you. So little freedoms like walking around the cabin freely or maybe going outside even takes a lot of time to be given those rights back.

Tim doesn’t like taking rights away, but if you push him, you’ll lose a lot of rights . He’ll sorta gaslight you into understanding why your rights are being taken away for your own good.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Masky has little to no patience. He’s not the soundest of men. He will snap and blow up on you if you act up.

Tim is more patient depending on his headspace. If he’s in a bad mood, he’s very short and snappy with you. If he’s in a good mood, he’s much more patient and understanding with you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Masky will move on easily since he’s not really emotionally attached to you. Now if you ran away, he’d take pleasure in hunting you down. Just expect to be heavily punished when he enviably catches you.

Tim will not move on from you ever. He loves you and will blame himself if you die. If you run away, he’ll panic and call Brian for help in catching you. The imagine of these two men hunting you down can be very terrifying or very hot if you’re into a good chase.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Tim is the only one who feels regret. There would only be one time where his judgment would lapse and he would consider letting you go, but he’s quick to come to his senses and get rid of that option.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Definitely his upbringing, but definitely post Marble hornets can play a part in his fear of losing someone. So the fear of losing you could push him to abduct you. He just wants to protect you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Masky couldn’t care less. He won’t let you have any ounce of control when it comes to isolating yourself from him. He’ll tie you down before letting you get away with ignoring him. He enjoys hearing you scream and seeing you cry, he loves seeing your reactions.

Tim’s heart breaks a little anytime he sees you cry. He doesn’t like seeing you suffer any way, especially when he knows he’s playing a role in your suffering.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Masky is incapable of being a classic yandere. He doesn’t love you, he’s obsessed with you and wants to have control over you. He will kill anything you love just to have you.

Tim isn’t delusional, he knows what he’s doing is wrong, he just wants you reciprocate his feelings.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Tim’s weakness is his guilt over having you captive here and because he’s opened up about his past regrets ( Jay’s death) if you exploit that , there’s a slim chance where he’d let you have the option to go. Of course; he’ll instantly regret giving you that choice and try to take it back. If you run away before he does change his mind, that’s your free ticket out.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Masky would 100% hurt you just to make you scared. He wants to display that he is stronger and faster than you.

Tim will never willingly hurt you, he adores you too much to wish any sort of harm onto you. He tends to try and clean up any wounds you’d have after interacting with Masky.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Masky doesn’t care about winning you over, he just wants you to fear him and let him have control over you.

Tim will try to win over your heart over and over again. He wants you to willingly be with him, and will actively try to show you that being with him is the best way.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Both don’t take too long to pine after you. The part before they’d snap is longer solely because they’re spending time stalking you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Masky will 100% break you if you push him too hard. He wants full control over you.

Tim will definitely not want to break you, he wants you to love him willingly

#masky marble hornets #masky imagine #yandere masky #yandere tim wright #masky #tim wright #tim wright x reader #yandere masky x reader #marble hornets #creepypasta #yandere #my work

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kupkate04 · 11 months ago

Text

A Hapless Endearment || Creepypasta x F. Reader || Ch. 1 - To Grandmother's House We Go

—Quick author's note—

I'm sure you all know the drill by now, but for those of you who don't, here it is:

Y/n = Your name

L/n = Last name

N/n = Nickname

H/c = Hair color

E/c = Eye color

F/c = Favorite color

B/m = Birth month

S/t = Skin tone

B/s = Body shape

B/c = Blush color

L/c = Lip color

H/l = Hair length

Also, I try to leave Y/n up to interpretation as much as I can, although some things will still be assumed about her, whether that be the kind of food she likes or her style of clothing, etc. It's difficult for me to fully write for a character who's a "blank slate", just thought you should know! Enjoy reading~

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

She exudes an inaudible sigh, propping her jaw in her palm and gazing through the somewhat smudged surface of the glass. Trees and houses of varying sizes whiz by, blurring together and composing an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun sits high on its invisible throne above. Its warm, golden rays break through an army of fluffy clouds, capturing the atmosphere in a brilliant, cheery radiance.

Struggling to imagine the clouds morphing into fun, inspiring shapes due to her current lack of concentration, she frowns, letting her discouraged eyes fall. The engine hums, the AC whirs, and wheels scrape the asphalt below, bringing the passengers closer to their destination. They've halted a few times to allow everyone a chance to stretch their legs and collect themselves, which has been Y/n's saving grace. Still, after ten hours of riding, her muscles are stiff and she is more than eager to be free from the confinement of this chatter-brimmed bus. Nestled in her lap is a backpack, and below the seat, directly behind her legs, lies her duffel bag; both have been stuffed with an assortment of clothes and other items she deemed imperative to bring along.

Headphones have been diligently positioned over her ears, the tunes that flood from which manage to block out most of the incessant noise surrounding her–including the ungodly snores of the man to her left. She fiddles with the wire, twirling it absentmindedly around her finger as she stares at the window frame, her mind wandering aimlessly amidst a blanket of fog. Languidly glimpsing to the side reveals her seating buddy has his head resting on the back of the bench, eyes closed and mouth hanging wide open. It's a wonder he hasn't caught a fly in there yet.

Ah, well. At least he doesn't stink.

She lets the dirty glass support her temple, her eyes threatening to seal shut. She's barely seized a wink of sleep throughout the course of this little road trip and her body is beginning to feel the full effects of it. Pondering momentarily how much longer it will be until they reach the station, a fleeting peek at her phone screen informs her of the time: 6:44 in the evening. The bus left at 6:30, so there shouldn't be much time remaining. Gosh, she can't wait to stand again. She's not even sure she remembers what her feet feel like.

She succumbs to the temptation to yawn quietly, giving her drooping eyes a reprieve. She thinks about what she's going to do when the bus parks and she saunters through the folding doors to reunite with her grandparents. It's been so many years since she saw them last. She was...nine?

Memories of her childhood have grown faint, but she can recall how happy she always was around them; how much boundless joy they brought her simply by existing. They were never neglectful, impatient, or spiteful, no–only caring and affectionate and overflowing with love. She's missed having that kind of positive influence in her life. It's been hovering in the distance for so long, just out of reach. Taunting her.

But now it doesn't matter, because she's coming back. She's finally going to see them again.

It's unfortunate that it took seven years to convince her father to let her return. He's so swaddled in his needless resentment and self-pity that it's blinded him. She doesn't understand how he could care so little–be so detached from the two people who raised him with every ounce of adoration they possessed because of some silly disagreement a few years prior.

She isn't certain what transpired exactly; all she knows is the vague comments she was told by her mother. It was likely an argument based around the roads he was traversing to make an income, as it seems highly in-character for him to get offended by something so trivial. Knowing him, he blew their moral concerns out of proportion, pitched a hissy fit, and vowed never to speak to them again, dragging his daughter and wife into the crossfire.

It was that reason and that reason alone why Y/n had to wait until she was sixteen to pay dear Nana and Pops a visit. He only relented because she wouldn't stop bothering him about it for two weeks straight after she found out both her parents would be out of the country during the summer for their jobs. She didn't want to be stuck at home for three months without any friends to spend time with, and she didn't want to go back to camp either, so traveling to Alabama for a summer vacation seemed like the only logical solution. They dropped her off with some money on their way to the airport, she bought a ticket, boarded the elongated vehicle, and that was that.

Her father had been less than enthused on the matter, and she recalls his torpid, irked expression reflecting in the rear-view mirror of the car as they pulled up to the bus stop. Her mother, on the other hand, was rather indifferent; far too invested in whatever messages lit up the screen of her phone to concern herself with domestic conflict. Y/n could only imagine which one of her flings she was texting this time, as situations involving her work certainly never gained her attention so fiercely.

A melancholic indignancy bubbles up within the girl's chest at the countless encounters she's had with her mom as of late that involved puny excuses, middle-of-the-night departures, and poorly-disguised secrets. She's never outright confirmed it, but her behavior is undeniably suspicious. She smiles more at her phone than she does when she's ever with her husband, and her 'husband' in question doesn't even seem to notice—or, if he does, simply doesn't care. Y/n hates it. Her family is falling apart at the seams and she's powerless to stop it.

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and she desires to spit the foul taste out, though only swallows and chews the inside of her cheek, attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something, anything lighthearted; a memory that contains laughter, joy, fondness. However, she finds nothing. She’s unable to remember a delightful moment between herself and her parents that took place recently. A time when her father outwardly expressed happiness or her mother was shamelessly candid.

It's a distressing realization to approach, that her family hasn’t acted as a true family since she was twelve years old; only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn’t sure the exact minute that it happened, nor does she have a specific reason as to why it happened. All she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until the feeling of inevitable abandonment seeped in.

She tried to communicate with them, collapse their walls and get them to allow their only child back in, though each time without fail, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. It became apparent she was getting nowhere with them, so after many fruitless attempts, she threw her hands up in surrender.

The example they set was not a good one, yet she couldn't help but subconsciously follow their lead. She grew emotionally drained, jaded—bordering depressed, even. Suddenly, maintaining any relationships outside of her home became a chore; a nearly impossible task that needed more energy than what she was willing to sacrifice. The more her friends noticed her inner turmoil, the more they tried to help, and the more she pushed them away. After all, if her parents didn't care, why should she?

She would get over this miserable hump eventually, and she would do it alone. Cutting contact with her dearest companions was an easier feat than one would expect, as it was accidental and gradual and she always affirmed herself with the fact that it wasn't permanent. She could always get in touch later. But weeks passed, and then months, and she made no effort to do that. At some point, she convinced herself that they wouldn't take her back now anyway. It had been too long, and she had treated them coldly. She wouldn't want to be friends with her, either—there was too much drama and emotional baggage.

It feels as if the person she once was fades from reality a little more every passing day, becoming invisible among people and society as a whole, including herself. Somewhere in the back of her troubled mind lays her positive outlook on life, and it's been locked in a box with the key thrown away.

Now sixteen years of age, she still struggles with these ill-fated circumstances and her dilapidated mental state but has learned to drive a vast majority of it into the chasms of her brain, leaving her an empty, aggrieved husk.

She blinks, reemerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the large vehicle she sits in turn off the main stretch of road and park in front of a building—the Fairfield bus station. She's here.

Despite the otherwise displeasing series of events that lead up to this, she feels a glint of excitement, pausing her music and gingerly removing her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f/c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing.

Eagerly, she bends over to reach below the seat and lift up her dufflebag in preparation before glancing out the window, e/c irises gleaming in the rays of sun. The bus brakes, the door is slid open, and several of the passengers rise. She isn't far behind, throwing her bags over her shoulder and squeezing past the man's broad legs, being careful not to thwack him upside the head with her luggage as she does so. He's barely disturbed, stirring for a few seconds before drifting off back to the realm of dreams. Merging into the middle aisle, she tries to control her rapidly-beating heart as she treads to the exit, being mindful of the people surrounding her in every feasible direction.

How will Nana and Pops react to seeing her again, after all this time? Will they still love her? She has changed in significant ways, and not necessarily for the better, either. Surely that won't deter them, right? Of course not. I'm one of their only grandchildren. They won't stop caring about me just cause I've grown up.

Though her pep-talk does little to soothe a new wave of anxieties that wash over her like an angry tsunami.

Oh gosh. What if it's super awkward?

She maneuvers down the stairs and makes distance between herself and the mode of transportation, scanning the crowd to locate the elderly pair her thoughts center around. A whirl of nervousness penetrates her stomach, her brows knitting together subtly.

What if they've changed? What if they're just like Dad?

But as she meets the warm brown eyes of Nana from afar and notices the giant, surprised smile stretching across her features, all doubt withers away, and she offers a meek wave. The lady bumps the arm of the hefty man sitting next to her to gather his attention before she springs to her feet and sprints to greet Y/n, her expression contorted into one of pure bliss. A small grin tugs at Y/n's face, and she stands idle, taking into account Nana's appearance as she hurries forward.

She’s adorning a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes down to her shins. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, fine hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only clue Y/n in on how old she must be getting, now.

"Y/n!" Nana calls out, voice brimmed with exhilaration as she dodges other pedestrians before reaching out and enveloping the h/c in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around her frame and reeling her in as close as she can. Her actions almost knock both of them to the ground, but Y/n balances herself before she can stumble and reciprocates the gesture.

"Hi, Nana," she says, tone more genial than it's been in a long time. A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; a peaceful aroma, a mixture of strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm soon after, squeezing her grandmother’s scrawny torso with as little force as required so she doesn’t somehow injure her.

Pops joins his wife with a notably calmer pace and snakes his arms around the two smaller individuals, his slightly yellowed teeth apparent through his beam. A stout man of classic tastes, he wears a 1950s fedora, a baby blue collared shirt, and suspenders. His hold is strong and secure and Y/n feels an almost overwhelming sense of comfort slam into her without warning. She chuckles—a soft, elated sound—and her chest is flooded with gleeful fuzziness. It's certainly an odd, foreign type of feeling, but she accepts it nonetheless. "Welcome home, kiddo."

"We've missed you so much," Nana chirps, pulling away after what has to be a solid two minutes and prompting Pops to do the same. Her wrinkled hands grasp her shoulders before sliding up to cup her face, gently tilting it upward to get a better look. A stunned expression crawls across her attributes before it’s replaced by a wider—if it’s even viable—smile. “Oh, you’ve grown so much!” She turns her head. “Phil, do you see her?”

“Aye. I sure do,” he says with a proud nod of his head. “She’s just as pretty as she was the last time she visited.” Blush dusts itself along the apples of her cheeks and she averts her line of sight, embarrassed. He chuckles. “Just as bashful, too.”

“Leave her alone.” She pivots again to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. “We’ve missed you, sweetie. It’s been too long.” Y/n nods timidly, not accustomed to being so doted on. Behind her, the wheels of the bus grind against the asphalt as it leaves shortly after the doors close, and she twists her head around just in time to see it drive away, leaving her there for the summer. There's no other place she'd rather be, and their presence is only confirming those feelings. "We have so much catching up to do! I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.” She looks back at the old woman and feels her squeeze her arm. “How old are you now? Fifteen?”

“She looks more grown-up than that,” Phil comments, and Y/n shrugs, biting her lip.

“Uh, I...turned sixteen in B/m.”

“My word!” Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. “You’re practically an adult, already!”

“Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah,” he says, and Y/n’s eyes light up at the mention of the familiar feline.

“Marshmallow?” she questions, astonished enthusiasm coursing through her, once again. “He’s still alive?”

“Why, yes, he is,” Farrah laughs as if amused by her inquiry. “Getting on up there, though. I’m a little shocked to know you remember him.”

“Of course I remember him,” she says, the volume of her voice increasing with glee. “He’s my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me...”

“I’m sure he does,” Phil says. “He was always followin’ you around. Probably cause you spoiled him all the time with leftovers.” The corners of her mouth pull upward and she rubs the back of her neck.

“Well...he needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled.”

“Very true.” Farrah smiles.

“And yet I can’t even have a dog in the house,” he grumbles playfully. “You cat lovers don’t make any sense.”

“We don’t have to ‘make sense’,” Farrah says. “Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such.”

“Sure, sure.” He waves her off. “You treat that cat better than you do me.”

“Well, you’re not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?” She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs.

“I can lay in your lap if that’s what you want.”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, c’mon woman, make up your mind!”

“My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear.” She tugs Y/n to her and begins walking toward the grey-blue Toyota Corolla that sits motionless in the parking lot, and the teenager follows, readjusting the bags hanging on her shoulder.

“You want me to carry those for you?” Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widening, taken off-guard by the abrupt offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

“N-no thanks, Pops. I got it.”

“Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy.”

“Um...clothes and stuff,” she replies quietly as they reach the 2007 vehicle, Nana shuffling into the passenger's seat and Pops opening the back door for her. She tosses her luggage to the opposite side and climbs in, smiling up at him to signal that she's done. He nods in acknowledgement and shuts the door, soon claiming the area behind the steering wheel and cranking the engine. The interior of the car smells like lavender, thanks to the cardboard air freshener swaying below the rear-view mirror, and the beige-toned leather lining the seats is torn in various places, no doubt because of how many years it has under its belt.

"You got any'a that modern technology that kids use nowadays?"

The air conditioning blasts through the vents to cool the space as he puts the car in reverse to back out of the lot before shifting the gear, navigating between other automobiles, and driving onto the highway. Y/n clicks her buckle into place and twiddles her thumbs, jerking her shoulders up lightly, though she knows he won't be able to see it. "I—I mean, I have a cellphone, if that's what you're asking..."

"A cellphone, huh?" He eyes her in the mirror and she shrinks away meekly, unsure of how to react to the sincere attention. "We have one of those. Don't really know how to work it though."

"You sure do know your way around Solitaire for someone who doesn't know how a phone works." Nana's light jab makes him scoff playfully as he stares through the windshield observantly.

"You know what, Little Miss Sassypants? Yeah, I do. That app is the only reason I ever even pick it up."

"And when you do, you're playing it for three hours straight."

"It's enjoyable!" Huffing, he shoots her a glare of faux annoyance. "Don't act like you ain't got things that you spend hours at a time doing."

"My hobbies are productive, as opposed to yours, so that excludes me from this discussion."

"That sounds like code for 'I know I'm losing so I'm gonna back out now before I'm called out on it'."

"False." She flattens out her skirt and narrows her eyes at him. "I don't speak in code, dear."

He laughs gruffly at that sentence, plainly not buying her words. "Keep thinkin' that, sweetheart."

The frisky banter has Y/n failing to suppress a grin, having forgotten how well her grandparents get along, and why they've stayed married for almost sixty years. If only Mom and Dad had that kind of chemistry. Maybe then their home wouldn't be so void of love and life every waking moment.

"So how was the trip, Y/n?" Nana twists around to the best of her ability to catch a glimpse of her granddaughter, seeming to completely brush the mini argument aside and spare Y/n her undivided recognition, eyes touching base with her own.

"It was okay," she mumbles, voice just loud enough for them to understand her. "I'm ready to stop riding for a while, though."

"I'm sure. You traveled a long way. I'm glad you stayed safe."

Pops decides to contribute to the conversation. "How's your dad doin'?"

Her face scrunches up faintly as she racks her brain for a suitable answer that won't draw any concerned feedback. "Uh... He's busy. Him and Mom both."

"Figured that much. Probably why they're leaving the country in the first place, huh?"

Her gaze drops to her knees. "Yeah..."

"Do they do that often?" Nana asks, her tone curious. "Take trips for their job?"

"That's like, forty percent of what they do..." She registers the car turning left sharply, onto a dirt road that leads into a capacious patch of forestry. They pass a faded blue and white sign, and the letters in bold printed across its surface reveals: Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Wow, almost there already.

"But, um...it's usually not so far away," she continues her previous statement as they drive over gravel and rocks in their path, making the ride a little bumpy. "Not usually for such a long time, either."

"They still workin' for the same company?" Pops says. If Y/n were to listen extra closely, she'd be able to detect the tiniest hint of enmity masked within his voice. She blows a bubble into her cheek.

"Yeah, but it got sold to another corporate body a couple years ago and they changed a lot of things. So both of them have been on duty a lot more since then."

"I bet that's been stressful."

"It's..." She could speak the truth, but the truth would dampen the mood, so she goes for a lighter alternative. "It's fine. They don't mind some extra work. Just means more money in the bank."

Pops mutters something under his breath, but Y/n can't decipher it. She can only assume it isn't anything particularly nice, based on the conversation that elicited it.

Before she can dwell on it for too extensive of a period, a familiar, Victorian-style cottage becomes visible, and a ghost of a smile sweeps across her features as she perks up. Around the house lies a white picket fence, fringed with beautiful flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and coiled themselves around each individual post, giving it an engagingly untamed appearance.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door perches an intricate white arch made of wicker and intertwined with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a muted shade of cyan, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the glittery stream of sun. The window frames are white, their shutters open to allow optical access inside of the home, and stained glass roses rim the transparent pane.

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales crept out of its pages and sprung into existence, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for Pops to guide the Toyota off the road so she can jump out and get re-acquainted with it all.

I forgot how incredible this place was... She unbuckles, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation as the car comes to a stop in their driveway, a few feet from the gate and underneath a willow tree. She extends her hand hastily to grasp the door handle and swings it open, the early summer breeze caressing her skin as she hops out, the bottom of her shoes making contact with vivid green grass. She steals a big whiff of the unpolluted air, natural scents swirling through her nostrils as she drags her belongings out of the car and slings them over her shoulder once again.

Nana copies her movements and Pops isn't too far behind her. She gives her an encouraging pat on the back, then motions for her to trail after her as she moves toward the arched gateway, unlatching it to grant her entrance. "Wait till you see the dinner I'm whipping up, Y/n," Nana says as they walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble. "You still like pineapple casserole, right?"

"Yes," Y/n says with no hesitation, the very image of the dish making her mouth water. Although she hadn't had the privilege of eating it in years, one thing she can remember clearly is how delicious it was—then again, everything Nana cooks is delicious, so maybe that point is moot. On either side of the orderly pathway are two rows of tulips, comprising pink, white, red, and violent, perfectly maintained. It astounds her how her grandparents can keep the garden so alluring while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape. They surely tidied up before she arrived, but they're also the kind of people who like a neat living space, so she doubts they had to do much.

"I'm so happy to hear that!" She claps cheerfully as they reach the painted oak door, and both females make room for Pops as he conquers the porch stairs and wrenches the screen toward him, the creaking of its old and unoiled hinges evoking a sound similar to a screech. He rifles around in his pocket, pulls out the keys, and unlocks the entrance, holding it open as his wife and granddaughter stride through.

Y/n examines the property in wonder. Along the floor lies a hand-knitted rug, shaped like a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. On her left is a vacant doorway to the living room, with a vintage floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the front door are two chairs; one matching the couch and the other a darker, less feminine material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and beneath it is a hickory plank floor.

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a wooden table and four chairs slid neatly on every side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are transparent and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight ahead is a linear staircase; she remembers it leading up to the bedrooms and the second bathroom. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that curls around the edges of the room; the refrigerator and the oven both fit snugly.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs, and in the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses, a casserole dish, and a couple of pots.

The fragrance of honeysuckle crawls into her nose, as well as the smell of a currently-cooking turkey, mixing and creating a rainstorm of nostalgia. She almost cries from raw mirth. I really missed it here...

“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new—but amicable—surroundings. “If you need me, I'll be finishing up dinner.” Y/n gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that bombard her.

Her eyes sweep over everything in reverence as she comes to a halt in front of the staircase, glimpsing back at her grandmother with a sheepish demeanor and parting her lips. “Um...am I staying in Aunt Darcy's old room? Or somewhere else?” A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah’s eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

Farrah nods as Pops shuts the door, blocking the bright sunlight and capturing the area in a bit more darkness. “Yes, that's where you can sleep, store your things, anything. Of course, your dad's room is available too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly band posters."

She breathes a quiet laugh. “Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy’s room will be fine." She spins on her heel and begins her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The concept of being in her father’s childhood bedroom doesn’t sit right in her stomach. “Thank you, Nana.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with your bags?” she questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y/n’s ears. “They look awfully heavy.”

“No, it’s okay, I got ‘em,” she reassures, attaining the top step and taking a moment to pilot the somewhat narrow space before her. On the floor is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway; to her immediate right is a small, polished table that supports a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left ajar, divulging a bit of the interior and reminding her that this is indeed where she’s going.

She uses her free hand to push it open, lighting up when she wanders inside. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, with a floor crafted out of ash wood planks that complements the design and hues nicely. On the opposite side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubbyhole into the wall and at a direct angle next to a window. Built into the wall are two bookshelves, both on either side of the bed and filled with colorful books of assorted sizes.

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer which she recalls to be a trundle bed. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with some twine. In one corner, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside to cushion it. To her right is a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer clinging to its top edge. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernible.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A chipped desk sits pressed against the wall, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp stands atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools; a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a glass paperweight, and a mirror.

She releases an inaudible sigh, the corners of her lips quirking up into a content smile as she walks further inside, depositing her bags on the bed and doing a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation arises within her chest; one she hasn’t experienced in far too long. She turns her head and gazes through the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun’s stunning yellow beams peer down through the towering trees.

She unzips her duffle bag and removes a pile of clothes from the main compartment, busying herself over the course of the next thirty minutes. The walk-in closet isn't huge but still larger than she remembered, meaning there's plenty of space to store all of her clothing pieces. She takes note of the fact that a vast majority of her aunt's stuff is no longer here, and she presumes Nana removed them to create space or Darcy herself came by and collected everything. Y/n hangs a good half of her items and keeps the rest folded, stuffing them into the shelf of drawers across from the door. She refrains from unpacking her art supplies and other accessories just yet, as it would feel weird and wrong to get so comfortable here after so little time.

After throwing her—now empty—bag into the corner, her stomach rumbles and she concludes that the last thing she ate was a honey bun, and that was hours ago. Yearning to ease her mild sense of famine, she pivots, leaves the room, and descends the stairs, once again being swathed by the pleasant smell of food, only this time, it's much more intense.

Farrah sends Y/n an affectionate smile as she turns off the oven and waves her in. “Hi, sweetie. Are you settling in okay?” The teenager nods, letting the smell lure her, and steps inside.

“Yes, ma'am. I had forgotten how nice this house was.” The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates on the counter and passing it to her. She takes it in her hands and shoots her a look of gratitude.

"It isn't as clean as I would like it to be, but oh well. I'm too old to dust away every little cobweb." She sighs in disbelief, eyes twinkling. "Maybe I should hire a maid."

"That might be a good idea. You don't wanna overdo yourself." Nana occupies herself with making a plate of food for her husband, listening to Y/n talk and humming along. "But, uh...while I'm here, I'd be happy to help you with anything you have to get done."

"How sweet of you to offer, N/n." She grins as she scoops a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto the dish. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, please—eat something. It's all ready."

"Thanks for this, Nana." She finds her way around the woman and gets a serving of everything—potatoes, turkey, rolls, pineapple casserole. The thought of indulging herself makes her want to melt. "It smells delicious."

"Oh, you're so welcome, dear." She pours a glass of milk for Pops and offers a toothy smile. "I hardly ever get to cook for anyone besides your grandfather and myself. This is an honor."

Y/n feels compelled to hug her again, but ultimately resists the urge, not wishing to take a chance on spilling the food being held in both sets of hands. Tears threaten to rim her eyes, her grip tightening on the plate. Such displays of selflessness is a stranger to her, but she cherishes every second of it. "I love you, Nana."

She fails to see the way Farrah's heart swells at her words, her face contorting into one of deep adoration. "Oh, I love you too, Y/n—me and Phil both. So much. And we're so happy you wanted to come visit us."

After a short exchange of smiles, Nana departs and Y/n finishes gathering her meal, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge and heading into the dining room, noticing Pops already sitting at the table, silently awaiting his own share of food. She lowers herself into the chair opposite him, the steam from the hot meal floating up into her face and making her eager to taste it.

“Hello, young lady,” he greets, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. “This house treatin' you okay?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies with a slight dip of her head.

“Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you’re used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations.” Her eyes widen almost a comical amount and she stares at him as if he’d attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes with her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

“No, Pops, it does. The country’s amazing.” She brushes a strand of h/c hair behind her ear and swallows the flavorful vegetable. “City life isn’t that good. Honestly, I’d rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse.” A large, satisfied smile takes residence on his wrinkled features and his eyes crinkle up before he laughs blissfully.

“You hear this, Farrah?” He regards the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her spouse and passing his plate to him. “This girl hasn’t been tainted yet. We should keep her here, make sure she stays that way.”

A kind grin etches across her lips, though she dismisses him. “I don’t think her parents would approve of that, Phil.”

“No, they wouldn’t care,” Y/n murmurs in response, noticing the pitying looks being thrown her way, and she eats a forkful of casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that’s fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the platter in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

“I’m sure that’s not true, sweetie.” Farrah’s voice is tender and reaffirming. Y/n only shrugs.

“They'd probably forget I was here at all, after a while. Too caught up in their own lives to really remember something like that.” Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b/c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just watches her with sympathy.

“That’s shameful,” he starts, his voice flooded with disdain. “You're their daughter. How could they just forget about you?"

“I...I don't know. They just can, and have gotten pretty great at it, too.”

“When did all this start, sweetheart?” the old woman questions, sipping her drink.

“A few years ago, I guess...” It’s silent for several moments and Y/n wishes she wouldn’t have even interjected at all. Perhaps she just feels that she can tell them anything. Way to ruin the mood, genius.

“Hun, they’re not...abusing you, or anything, right?” The teenager can sense the reluctance in her words as if she’s afraid to hear the answer, and Y/n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

“N-no, Nana, don’t worry. Nothing like that.” She releases an audible huff of air, relieved.

“Don't they spend time with you or anything?” Phil asks, leaning forward and facing her with agitation. She scours her brain for a coherent reply.

“Uh...no, not—not really.” She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to shroud the hurt found in her own. “They hardly even talk to me. They don’t even talk to each other anymore. Dad’s always too busy and Mom is...” She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously taps her foot against the floor; a nervous habit she's taken to whenever her anxiety levels rise.

Her mind flashes with images of her mother sneaking out in the dead of the night. When asked about it, she'd snap at her, insist it was for 'business', and leave it at that. She remembers that one time she borrowed her phone to email her teacher, since hers had stopped working the previous day, and instead got notified of a message, received from a man with an unknown name. Initially, she believed it was a coworker or friend, but the contents of said 'message' involved raunchy flirting and, upon opening his contact, these advances were heavily reciprocated, and he wasn't the only one. It made her sick to her stomach. Sure, she was aware that Mom and Dad weren't exactly at a healthy place in their marriage, but she never thought one of them would actively cheat on the other. Those actions were guaranteed to ruin a family, yet her mother didn't seem to care in the least.

Her foot makes a soft thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. “Uhh... Keeping secrets.” Phil and Farah share a glance.

“What kind of secrets, darlin’?” her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand. Does she really want to say this?

“I—I think, well, uhm... She’s cheating on Dad.” She doesn’t look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they’ll judge her and her parents. “I mean, the way she's been acting, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I’ve caught her before but she just got mad and said it was ‘business-related’.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Plus, Mom and Dad haven’t gone on a date in forever. And I don’t know, it’s just...worrying.”

“Sweetie,” Farah starts, and Y/n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adopted, “that kind of behavior is unacceptable.” She shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. “We need to talk to them about this.”

“No,” she interjects, finally meeting Farrah’s eyes with frightened e/c ones. “They can’t know I told you all of this. They—they’ll hate me.”

“If this is true, something needs to be done,” Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in distaste. “You don’t need to be in a house with two people that are so unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us.” Although the thought of living in a house with her loving grandparents sounds fantastic, she refuses by shaking her head again and speaking in a tremulous voice.

“N-no, it’s alright. I can deal with it.” Although her parents don’t seem to care about her anymore, she would most definitely shatter whatever remnants of a relationship they still have between the three of them if they were to find out what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want her parents to despise her; that would be a horrid feeling. And she wants to avoid experiencing it.

The rest of the dinner goes by at a leisurely pace for the girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more lighthearted subjects to cheer her up, and it moderately works. They ask her about school, her friends, whether she’s in a relationship yet, to which she responds with valid answers: “It’s good”, “I don’t have friends”, and “No”. It makes itself more apparent to them with every reply she isn’t living a normal, decent life. But they figure it’d be best not to pry too much. After all, she’s here for a break, not to be harassed with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after swallowing the final bite, pushes the chair back under the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling full and tired. Her gaze shifts to the window, perceiving the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is setting below the horizon and darkness will soon replace its blaze of light.

“Marshmallow is probably waiting outside if you wanna let him in for the night,” the woman hollers from the dining room as Y/n discards her dishes in the sink and rinses them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won’t bear witness to it.

“Okay, Nana.” She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and props them in the plastic drainer resting on the counter-top before walking a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and nudging it open, being welcomed by a cooler evening gust of wind.

She glances around the small porch and can’t help but smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face to clean himself. He peers up at her curiously, and she approaches at a gradual pace to avoid scaring him.

“Marshmallow? You remember me?” She sticks her hand out and lets him sniff her fingers before fondly rubbing his head. “It’s Y/n. I haven’t been back for a while.”

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he’s receiving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her neck and she can hear distinctive purring; a sound she hasn’t heard in years.

“Aww,” she coos, unable to stop herself from coddling the furry creature. “I missed you, too, little buddy.” She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door behind her, nearly colliding with Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass with a few droplets of liquid remaining.

She takes notice of Y/n and grins at the sight. “Ah, see? We told you he’d remember you.” The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and bumps her on the arm, making her chuckle.

“Yeah. He’s just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly.” As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles warmly as she places the plates in the sink. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“No, thank you, hun.” She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. “You just spend some time with the fur baby. Finish settling in.” Y/n feels Marshmallow struggle against her hold, so she crouches and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump down and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind.”

“I can’t believe you’re the spawn of my son,” she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. “It’ll be fine, sweetie. I’ve got it covered for now. You go and relax.” Y/n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won’t do her any good to argue about it. Emitting a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles toward the staircase.

“Okay...but, tell me if you need help?”

“Stop worrying. You’re the guest here.” Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unaware that she’s being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her backpack to move it off her bed. As she twists around to walk to the desk, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who's rubbing against her leg, and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat.

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the unexpected adrenaline rush that swamps her system, but once she does, she scoffs. “Trying to trip me already?” She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his hind feet as a response. “Silly cat.”

Marshmallow finds a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag as she finds a place for her bag and goes to sleep rather swiftly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall with each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring the ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many grim things have happened since then.

Sitting on the bed, her eyes drift out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can’t help her entrancement of the scenery and feels a trace of disappointment that she hasn’t seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and surveys it, blended emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

Yeah. There's nothing to worry about.

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strawberryflavoredvenum · 9 months ago

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Creepypasta hcs:

Jeff:

He loves music. He's one of those people who has an earbud in 24/7, even if they're talking to you. He's damaged his hearing from loud metal/rock. Something about being alone with his thoughts bothers him.(Same)

I don't think he would like Midwest emo/classic emo music and will make fun of other proxies for listening to it.(Nina and toby)

He couldn't care less about if the bands are run by terrible people. He doesn't try to justify anything he just doesn't care.(most of the creepypastas don't/are too busy to do research)

He doesn't think about his past at all and hates when it is brought up. He still loves liu as his brother but avoids him because he brings back memories.

He would totally be one of those guys with a scruffy face/ patchy beard if he could grow one.

The hair on his head is patchy and thin. He would like to try new styles but is scared to cut it because it hardly grows. He's insecure of his hair and is scared of balding when he gets older.

Toby:

He had dysgraphia and hates writing. He pushes any paperwork onto other people and blames laziness. Even if he does paperwork his handwriting isn't readable to even himself.

LOVES Midwestern emo bands like the front bottoms or McCafferty. He would have wanted to join a band like that if he wasn't a proxy. He couldn't care less about what Jeff says.

He's much more quiet than the fandom depicts. He stares at people and has a monotone voice. He gets along well with everyone but keeps his friend circle extremely small.

He's good friends with clockwork, not romantically though. He doesn't feel romance towards anyone and likely never will. Natalie is big sister figure for him, a stand in for Lyra.

Nina

Became obsessed with Jeff during a manic episode and now that everything has happened she isn't that interested in him anymore.

She doesn't regret becoming a proxy but regrets how it happened. She wants an identity outside of being a Jeff fan girl and makes a point to go out on her own.

She would have a tumbler and myspace if the proxies were allowed to have social media.

She watches a lot of anime and loves the yandere subculture. She loves cosplay and has even done some of her own. She even does anime mannerisms irl and the other creepypastas make fun of her for it.

When she first joined the proxies, she was kind of a pick me and didn't get along well with the other girls. Now that she's been living in the mansion for a while, she's way nicer to the girls than the guys. She's a girl's girl now. (Also having her bi awakening sped this process along)

She wants a parental figure and will force that role on slender man. Deep down she knows Slenderman doesn't care for her but pretends anyway.

She's a maladaptive daydreamer. She started when she was younger to escape from reality and it's grown to be an actual problem. (speaking from experience lol) She'll listen to music/ anime intros and pace around her room for hours making up stories about her favorite anime/ media. She used to daydream about Jeff but not anymore.

Jane:

ABSOLUTELY HATES when people compare her to jeff. She hates Jeff but mostly avoids him. Jeff isn't worth her effort half the time.

She's insanely protective over the other girls, especially Sally. She didn't get along with Nina at first but she's now like a little sister to Jane.

She has long pointy black acrylic nails and they are her pride and joy. Laughing Jack also likes them because they look like his claws.

Jane, Nina, and Sally get together to do their nails. Sally gets simple pink, Nina has gel nail stickers, and Jane does acrylics. Sometimes they try and rope the boys into it as well with varying degrees of success.

#creepypasta #jane the killer #sally #ticci toby #toby rogers #jeffrey woods #jeff the killer #slender mansion #Slenderman #hcs

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ratkingvixx · 1 month ago

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— Delirium Creepypasta Story

Trigger warning - some sensitive imagery? (drawings)

Here are a few inspirations and influences for our creepypastas (my sibling’s character is the twin sister) Here is the best ways I can put it. Essentially it’s inspired by a lot of psychological horror such as silent hill and cry of fear. Our themes are focused on mental health as there are “phantoms” (or rather Husks as we've referred them as) that we have no choice but to face. Like Silent Hill, our story explores the darkest parts of the mind, the long lasting effects of trauma, upbringings, memories, and how much external influences affect people. The supernatural aspects are very much real, however should be taken as symbolic too (if that makes any sense).

Like Cry of Fear, the two central characters have a distorted perception of reality which is like a reflection of their psyche and subconscious. The “monsters” in Delirium are essentially personification of mental health issues, trauma and fears (much like the monsters in Cry of Fear and Silent Hill). The depiction of viserial pain in those games are what we are trying to achieve I guess. Good stuff..

Tokyo Ghoul (the manga) and The Cat Lady - symbolic and emotional is what we strive for in these characters. Emotions play a key role in the story because it’s a tragedy. Loneliness and failure are often what the twins feel, and memories are all they have left… Unfortunately memories can only do so much and go so far. A lot of it is just a lot. Which is how it's meant to be because the real horror comes from them, ourselves. With a constant foreboding sadness and distress, plus a hefty douse (not sprinkle) of confusion.

—

Underneath I am sleeping. But what am I to do with all this silence? Bound by the hate and lies, those faults of mine.

You are terrified to let loose, or let go. Take the blame and be the failure you fear. Disgusting. Oh, you are pitiful and rotting. Poor thing.

Run, run, run, run. My head spins and writhes, so says the toy in my head. Who just runs around up there. Round and round it goes… I think it’s me. So small. So tiny. So little. So child-like. So, so disturbed and lonely.

But I am not alone. Oh, no. I am not alone. For some time now, someone has taken up space in the emptiness of what I thought to be me.

I am aware… So, it too becomes. Now, someone is watching me.

Dialogue:

First — Troubled mind calls for troubled thoughts.

Is your blood authentic? What of your heart? (It’s not mine)

Do not be afraid. Breathe. Breathe.. In, and out. In, and out. Breathe through your lungs and you will feel mine as sure as your own. Part your ways, but I am you flesh and blood. I feel through you. And what an ugly thing you are.

Second — Clarity

Don't acknowledge Him. Don't be aware… Don’t make Him aware of you.

And an extra doodle for bearing with me. I wrote too much, and I apologize for my straight-up writing dumps. Rambling, again. Why do I do this to myself... ah, such is life. Sidenote - I suck at taking photos of my work.

Is this boring stuff? Yeah, maybe. My writing sucks anyways.

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acexsmhking · 3 months ago

Note

(Yooooo, I love your writing.)

Eyeless Jack deal with Malevolent Entity! Reader, B.E.N., Dark Link, and Dark Zelda. Eyeless Jack would tear them. RIP Team squads. Eyeless Jack becomes evil beings slaughter. Poor evil souls has to deal with him. 🗡️🩸

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Eyeless Jack vs Evil Entity!Reader

Summary: Eyeless Jack finding himself in a situation where he’s targeted by evil reader and few other creeps, what could go wrong.

Warning(s): 18+ content, descriptions of human consumption, demon entities, supernatural abilities, personal head-canons, personal lore

Yikes, so. All in all everyone’s.. winning. Kinda depends for what specifically you imagine Reader’s powers to be. All of them really have some sort of immortal aspect, either they just can’t die, heal too fast, or are plainly too intelligent. There have indeed actually been a few instances when Jack and B.E.N met. Specifically when Jack was escaping the SCP Foundation

B.E.N and Jack briefly met before hand through supervised experiments. They did not immediately get along whatsoever. Jack was completely unimpressed by B.E.N’s flare and B.E.N thinks he’s a mindless dog that should be put down

Their alliance mainly stems from both realizing how strong the other is. While Jack surely doesn’t have nearly as many kills as B.E.N does. He has something B.E.N wants desperately. A body. And Jack knows damn well how to use it.

Their strengths while vastly different, are both almost same. You can, in technicality, kill B.E.N. The problem is B.E.N is so fucking intelligent you’d have to be so unpredictable to do it… something Jack is. Jack is impossible to keep track of, even if he’s right in front of you

Almost same thing going for Jack. While Jack can be hurt, knocked out, usual things. He has such a ridiculous healing factor that even the SCP wasn’t able to come up with a concrete contingency plan on killing him. Hoping just locking him up in some other dimension would be close enough

Now with evil Reader.. hmm well again. Reader in the context they’re an entity. They surely have to be powerful, what kinda of powers and skills they have though is the deciding factor

I would say that for Jack and Reader it’s almost same situation like with B.E.N however, Reader being possibly a great entity realizes how useful Jack is alive. I mean hey the guy eats everything.. when you’ve gone on a killing spree it’s actually incredibly useful to have a scavenger around. This is the same reason The Operator allies itself with Jack, he covers things up

But if the Reader starts being too demanding with Jack? Acting like it’s his boss? Yeah that’s when he starts hurting them. Jack is a free spirit baby you can’t control him. It would start off small, maybe some growls and grunts. A few snaps, to straight up just ignoring Reader unless they try to start a fight with him

Dark Link and Dark Zelda.. forgot they also had creepypasta dups..

I would say for them both they actually stay away from other spirits in general? They have this very nice solo thing going on for them and another spirit or entity would intrude on that, or god forbid, split them up

But, back to the SCP Foundation. Dark Zelda and Jack did actually very briefly meet. It was again a controlled experiment for when they first, first captured Jack. They knew he’d often follow and scavenge off others so they wanted to see if they could squeeze any information from others, about him

Sadly though, Zelda and Link were both completely unaware of Jack’s existence. Something they’re both thankful for as killing either of them & Ben is far easier than trying to kill B.E.N. Zelda and Jack do get along though actually, she is very smart on how to do with grumpy demons

: ̗̀➛ I actually really enjoyed writing this, completely forgot about Creep!Dark Link and Zelda like nobody talks about them anymore so thank you for this ask completely brought back old memories LMAO — Ace

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #jack nyras #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned #dark link

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forfluxsake · 1 year ago

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a personal slash solitary blog where i publish my doodles, have hobbies, and do anything typical of the average person

utmv server ad

before i write anything else, i’m promoting my utmv (undertale multiverse) server. JOIN PARTYCHROMA TODAY! FOREVER LINK: https://discord.gg/sATaZ8WZDh

if you aren’t sensitive to bold text, fonts, weird symbols, and eyestrainy gradient rainbow themes, join partychroma. it’s a neverending party for people who’re into undertale or deltarune aus and the like. it’s quiet for the time being, which is why i’m hoping people find this post

we are welcoming of anybody who’s willing to have a good time. the server provides funny roleplay channels, a place to showcase your creations, roles, incredible people, and more. i put effort into it and stuff so that’s great

…a better, less half-hearted advertisement can be found on disboard. hope to see you there!

about me

if you’re wondering who i am, hi

i’m flux.

i am a male and i use he/him/she/her pronouns. that’s all you need to know to respect my existence. if you have any questions direct them to the asks feature i just enabled

what do i like doing? doodling, writing, listening to some funky tunes; learning… i’m not picky about creative activities, but i do tend to procrastinate. my hyperfixations are seasonal and i suffer from being unable to let go of past phases. the list of my interests is infinite. if you care, i enjoy a variety of indie rpgs, object shows, args slash creepypastas, webcomics, and television shows.

cartoon series pique my interest the most.

boundaries

(be my friend)

i’m a minor. this much information is self explanatory as to how you should approach me. obviously don’t interact with me if you are a nsfw age-restricted page, but also don’t attempt to send me weird asks

i don’t talk about politics.

i think being friends with me requires a lot of patience. sure, you may friend me on my discord, o5fo, but understand that i’m terrible at one on one conversation. if you don’t get straight to the point, i will most likely not respond.

preferably keep contact with me through our shared communities or mutual servers and not direct messages.

if i’ve crossed a line, i encourage people to express their discomfort. nothing is gained from radio silence. (it’s not like i’m not anxious as well LOL don’t be shy to contact me [on dis] if it’s important)

what to expect

this blog is sfw, though it’s prone to having violent and dangerous content, mostly because i’ve drawn a fair amount of works with blood or upsetting themes. be wary of who you follow, always, and take steps to protect yourself online. take advantage of the filter tool to block tags that trigger you.

i will occasionally open art requests. but i won’t do too many at a time.

i might touch on some uncomfortable topics while i’m maintaining this nostalgia-seeking blog, especially about past controversies in the communities i was in since i was a child. and depending on the post, i will treat the flaws in said communities seriously or jokingly. please do not take it the wrong way if i redraw those memories.

assume everything i say is light-hearted for the sake of everybody; spare yourself the trouble of thinking i’m trying to invalidate people’s experiences. i never want to come off that way

fanart. expect a handful of art in general. uncolored/whiteboard doodles are abundant. i have ocs- but i’m anything but organized.

that’s a wrap

i wasn’t prepared to end this post

#utmv #undertale #deltarune #sans au #undertale au #undertale multiverse #underverse #filename2 #baldi’s basics #baldis basics #bbieal #multifandom

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checkadii · 9 months ago

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I want them to know we made it to 19

And a rant. Of sorts.

Ahem.

A response to a letter to the future from a laptop that probably will kick the bucket if I try to boot it up today:

Hey. It’s me again. It’s you again. Tomato, tomato.

We have to stop meeting in the sticky notes program. All these options available, and we chose fucking sticky notes! Could’ve written it down, make our handwriting look nicer, but no!

So, how have you been? Hope you’re doing well. I know those years weren’t quite the best for us, so I don’t know why I bother, really. I still hope you’re doing well. I’d like to think we’re doing well.

I’m doing… okay. I’ve been stuck for a while between something that is not exactly a rock and not exactly a hard place.

It’s something. And it’s a place. I don’t think our ability to understand ourselves, our feelings, our needs and wants has gotten any better, so that’s that.

Do you know I’m in business communication now? Yeah! We got into university! That’s cool, right? It’s not what we wanted to do, not even close, but we fucking made it into something! Uni life was different from what we thought, by the way. Not a bad thing, just a note, I suppose.

We’re still drawing and writing, if you’ll believe it, and I’d like to think we’ve improved. No, we still so so sucks at artfight.

We got a bank account! And our steam account isn’t as empty (most if not all the games were either on sale or affordable, don’t worry. I know what spending does to you) anymore. You would love Ultrakill. You would’ve loved to play Lethal Company with ██ ███. No, I’m not in contact with anyone from there. No, I don’t know how ██ is doing. Wish I did.

Did you know Sirius died? His wounds got infected. I wasn’t allowed to bring him to the vet. He got worse over the months. Died beside the door. He’ll be healthier, okay?

Still can’t eat spicy, which. Damn. Well, okay, it’s to an extent, that’s improvement.

Ah. Still can’t swim, either.

We got into podcasts! Horror ones, yeah! We also got into this manga which I think you’ll find absolutely boring for a while. You’re still into Creepypasta, right. Right. I think.

What year are you from again?

Agh, Gacha games. No, you haven’t quite escaped them. Sky is surprisingly still something we play.

Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you. He stopped drinking, I think. We’re talking again. I moved, if that wasn’t obvious by now. Sis did too. I’m in a slump. I’m exhausted for no reason. You’re rotting in bed, cringing at every sound. I isolate myself in my room, dreading sleep.

All in all, not that changed.

You’ll figure out your identity. It takes a bit.

I’m running out of things to say. That’s kind of sad. I don’t know what you’d want to hear from me. My memories got worse, you know.

Same time, similar place next year? Maybe I’ll be more eloquent then.

So, how are you, me from the future? How have we changed? I, me, myself— we’ll be waiting for your response.

Make it to 20, okay? We made it this far.

#it’s not close to what I wanted to draw for myself but #I did get all teary eyed looking at it so I guess it works #scheduling this. today was tiring and I keep being left in the dark #and there’s apparently discussions about me causing conflict downstairs earlier #good night :3c we go to tomorrow together

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entities-of-posts · 1 year ago

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one of the nightmares i've had that has stuck the most in my memory is one from, oh, a few months before i got into tma.

mostly, i was just hanging around my family's apartment. it was night and the lights were yellow, like the few memories i have of moving in. something was wrong. there was no one else there, i think. or there was, and they just weren't important, so the dream forgot them. as it does.

mostly, though, it was me and my cat, and there was something wrong with him. he was... a little too big, a little too stiff in his movements.

i can't remember much of what happened in the first part of the dream, really; i'm writing it like this to try and convey the sheer creeping dread that's all i remember, hah.

eventually the building tension broke. i stepped into the kitchen and was faced with something that was not a cat. vaguely humanoid, if i recall. but it was not human. it was void black and quadrupedal. its limbs were long, it didn't have a tail. it was almost as tall as me (maybe taller, actually, i cant recall), even on four legs. it kind of looked like one of those over-the-top creepypasta characters, but in the world of the dream it was the scariest Fucking thing i'd seen in my entire life

and i recognized it as my cat--or, rather, what was pretending to be my cat, when i turned and he was there--too large, eyes too yellow, staring intently at the spot where the thing had been.

.... perhaps i wrote that too dramatically for what it was. i can't help it i'm an author. pretentiousness flows through my veins in lieu of blood

The Stranger

#the stranger #oneiric studies

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ruexvn · 1 year ago

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hey pookie i love your writing so much omg, like i love the way you write all the characters. could i request your personal eyeless jack headcannons if you haven’t done them already? like how do you see his personality and everything :O

! EJ Headcannons !

Gotcha! And muah 💋 I was on the fannon side for majority of my creepypasta phase before I left and came back liking the cannon versions more! Though I’m still learning about the fellow creeps once again, Soo here’s my thoughts on this grumpy beast

————————————————————————Very quiet and rarely speaks unless someone strikes a convo with him

He’s a very closed person and doesn’t want to get close to anyone again, much rather dwell on his own(traumatized)

Hates looking at himself because he wants to rip off his skin, can’t stand to always look at what he is now

Corny asf when trying to tell a joke, that or tells very dry jokes (loser)

His own barber because he hates when his hair gets too long

A huge bookworm still; always reading books of human anatomy, psychology books, etc

Sometimes captures his next victim and performs surgeries and stuff on them, basically just experimenting then eats them

I definitely see him having DID(dissociative identity disorder) because of the demon

When his personality is switched he’s like a rabid beast. His lingering humanity is erased in that moment and purely acts on instinct

He always manages to switch back before he’s completely consumed

The only ‘friend’ he lets around him is Jeff because he could care less is Jeff died, he’s a piece of shit after all

Jack definitely still tries to this day to find a way to go back to normal, even if it means he dies trying because he just wants to be free

Jealous ash when he sees people doing well to reach the profession he was studying for before everything went down

His human feelings are numb so when he thinks about his mom it’s just replaying memories without emotion

“Hm, I remember when mom did that for me.”

I definitely see this man to be a bit buff: he’s not carry bodies with a skinny body. The transformation did a big number on that

Not exactly bodybuilding like but you’ll definitely want to squeeze his bicep a bit(take a little bite)

Hes a bit over 6 ft. the most ill say is 6'5

Does not fall to slendermans influence but they both have a pact. Slenderman keeps him concealed from the world like the others and in return he heals whomever needs it

Good practice anyway but slenderman gives him the creeps

Let’s be fr he doesn’t have that stinky mask on all the time, it’s suffocating enough to even wear it because he needs his face to breathe

Only wears it when he ‘hunts’ and takes it off when he’s alone. Doesn’t let the other creeps see his face besides Jeff because he deadass snatched it off him

Did not go well for Jeff after, a miracle he’s still alive(Jack patched him up)

Has a nice cabin that he built deep into the woods with a clearing a bit beyond a forest, a small pond residing somewhere along (bee keeping age??)

Bro is literally a miracle. Knows how to rid of cold, flu, anything (where tf was u during Covid)

All in all he’s tied to nature because it’s quiet and that’s what he longs because that demon that screams in his head to feed it makes him want to maybe let him be consumed

Definitely depressed but lives with it, not suicidal at all surprisingly because he’s been alive for so long so very accustomed(hes tried and he really can’t die)

Hates being touched, there will be a hand through ur chest if u attempt, ask for permission before u become minced meat

A softy sometimes if you manage to be his friend, doesn’t show he kinda cares for u. Only shows it when u need to be patched up and he does it with the most gentle hands ever(does the opposite to Jeff)

I like to think him and Jeff have a rivalry but really it’s just Jeff pestering him and Jack sucks it up because maybe a different loud voice is comforting

This man deserves better

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #headcanon #eyeless jack #jack nyras #creepypastaverse #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta blog #womp womp

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year ago

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Hoodie doing the readers makeup!

writing and train of thought might be a little all over the place because im frying up a pan of bacon rn for tonights dinner uhuhuh so yeah i think i might draw some creepypastas tonight but im sure

I think he knows... a little bit about makeup, though he himself doesnt wear any. hell i dont think brian really wears any.. i think they mostly know the basics of applying it from past partners/hoodies memories from brian

said it a few times but this man loves being close to you, so him asking you to do your makeup shouldnt come as too much of a shock, i mean its an activity thats going to bring you two together

but boy

is he bad at applying it... hes only watched you do it, never actually picked up the brushes himself

decent at picking colors for eyeshadows and stuff, though... so you cant be mad there

ooooooo imagine taking his hand and steadying it when he tries to do your eyeliner or eyeshadow... he has shakey hands from trying to force himself to stay still (funny how it works like that sometimes)

you cant see his eyes behind the mask, but he does have the lower half pulled up to show his mouth.. the tip of his tongue is stuck out as he tries to concentrate

i think regardless of how good or bad it looks hes very proud of the end result! probably smiles to himself before pulling the mask back down

expect this to become a semi regular occurrence, hes going to subtly hint that he wants to help you every now and then.. maybe once or twice every week or two

overtime becomes even better, he ends up doing eyeliner better than you/j

maybe if you catch him on a good day and beg, hes going to let you do his face..

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #hoodie x reader #hoodie x you #hoodie imagine

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ramenremm · 1 year ago

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FREDYA- MY FIRST CREEPYPASTA!!! AND OC FROM CREEPYPASTA FANDOM

Info:

This is my first Creepypasta and Anything related to creepypastas like this.

I know it came out a little embarrassing and silly, but I really wanted to start somewhere!!!

I'll insert more information later and hope to get better with each work

Keep in mind that English is not my first language

Love also yes Nina and Jane Is here because i thought it will be funny

ONE SHOT

The sound of a vicious cough followed by a dozen more sounds filled with pain and discomfort was something that had been standard every day for a dozen months. A standard to which I should have been accustomed, and yet my face expressed nothing but worry. My body lay inert on a small bed with blue sheets. The sun slowly appearing in the sky reminded me that I should get up soon, as the alarm clock lying on the bedside table often failed to do so. My mind was foggy from little sleep and dark thoughts. Things should have started to improve, and it didn't look like it. Another sharp attack of coughing coming from the next room made me rise to sit down. With dark eyes of distaste, I ran a quick glance over the floor of the room, where piles of various clothes and garbage were piled up. I was supposed to clean it up last night, but I was so tired from school activities that I completely forgot about it. Again.

The only place where there were no scattered clothes was the mirror standing near the bed.

I marked in my head to do it today, or at least try to, because otherwise my mother would do it, and that's the last thing I'd want. I had a guilty conscience when she had to get out of bed unnecessarily, let alone clean up my mess. Speaking of my mother, Harper, it was from her bedroom that the sounds indicating ill health were coming. It had persisted for far too long, and despite trying various things, nothing seemed to work. That's what was causing me to get up and go to the small bathroom connected to the bedroom, and I felt like I wasn't fully in the world with my mind. Constant visits to doctors, specialists, anyone who fit the general description in any way did not work one bit. No diagnosis, no cure. No one knew exactly what was wrong with my mother, and they referred people to other people in the hope that they would get lucky there. They didn't get lucky.

Looking in the mirror hanging over the sink at first, I didn't pay attention to my reflection only to a small piece of paper attached to the top. Today we had an appointment with another doctor, supposedly the best in his profession.

I had to write things down and leave them that way, because with the ubiquitous clutter in the room it was hard to find a scrap of space where it would stand out. I could still use my phone if only it wasn't perpetually discharged or lost. I myself was beginning to be a wreck of a person through worry. Shifting my gaze, I finally met my reflection, the bags under my eyes were the first thing to be noticed on my pale face, right after the already rather large faded scar on my cheek. Maybe I should be thankful that something else was distracting me from it? I cringed at the mere mention of the appearance of this addition to my skin.

Going forward, however, it was no better, my black hair from lack of sleep and poor attention to my own health looked as if it was going to fall out at the slightest pull. Deep in my heart I hoped that this was not a true comparison, but only my imagination, but I was afraid to check myself. The answer came on its own, as there were already a dozen black hairs on the sink.

Thanks to brushing my teeth, the flowing water from the tap drowned out the sounds of coughing at least for a while, but it seemed to me that I had heard them so often that they had already etched themselves in my memory enough to be heard anywhere anyway. Regardless of the noise. Personal hygiene is the only thing I haven't neglected in my life since the nightmare began, constantly visiting various hospitals, offices and clinics forced me to keep my person clean, this didn't apply, however, to the even larger pile of clothes lying on the white bathroom tiles. I forgot to do the laundry. I was supposed to put them in the washing machine three days ago, however, I forgot about it again. Now I was sure that all my clothes were in that place, as opposed to on the floor of the bedroom, where their condition was no better. I sighed to myself and crouched down to start searching through everything that was there hoping to find something that didn't smell so bad. The different colored clothes had all sorts of stains or just an unpleasant smell to the point that I started to feel frustrated. I felt like throwing it all away and crying, but in the end a plain red short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans that still seemed decent fell into my hands, it was better than nothing.

I changed my clothes quickly although a bit haphazardly, as I had to mend my pants a few times, but walking out of the bathroom back to my room I could say that I was ready for another day full of excitement.

Before I could even leave, I headed to my desk where lay scattered books and pages torn from notebooks. I could have sworn I was supposed to do something for school since there were so many pieces of paper, my memory, however, was not inclined to make my task any easier. I'll get another bad grade. If this keeps up, I'm going to have trouble passing this year, just what we needed.

I wiped my face trying to pull myself together somehow. We can always try to talk to the teachers! Not that my own mother's ill health was something I'd want to use for such things, but letting them know things weren't going well might at least give me a little more time.

It's worth catching on to anything so much as to not upset her even more now.

With this quickly concocted plan, I threw the books that seemed appropriate into my black backpack, which, by the way, also looked like it needed a decent wash, and later also included my phone charger and cosmetics. It was fortunate that here Sydney schools gave the option of using electricity. Water and toilet paper were hard to come by in the school bathrooms, so it was good that they gave us at least that much. Zipping up I looked this time at the cork board that hung in front of my desk, it was filled with unnecessary information. Along with the schedule of additional ceramics classes, I didn't need it at the moment, I mean, I didn't have time for it, someday I might come back to it. There's always time right?

I put on my backpack and reached for my phone, which, as it turned out, still had a few percent in it, amazing.

I might even be able to listen to some music before it goes out completely. With that thought in mind, I also reached for the white headphones on the cable and slipped both items into my pants pocket. Walking out of the room was sometimes a challenge along the lines of try not to trip, but I managed to do it without incident this time. I closed the dark wood door with a quiet clatter, giving myself some time before walking over to the other door. I knocked on it gently, and only after that did I open it and look inside.

- Did you sleep a bit?- I asked, looking deep into a room that was more dark than mine. My mother never liked to open the curtains from her window too much, it made the atmosphere even more unpleasant, but she could not be persuaded to do otherwise. My mother was already sitting on the edge of her bed and was visibly trying to stop herself from coughing by holding a cloth to her mouth, her hands shaking gently from the effort it was costing her. I felt my heart squeeze even more. Seeing her in such a state hurt.

For a while she couldn't even answer me, because every time she tried, she had to struggle again to catch her breath. With each such attack I was afraid that she would eventually break her ribs.

-A little- she replied by waving her hand, thus dismissing the subject. If I had slept more than an hour myself, I might have believed her. Why else is she trying to deceive me after such a long time?

-I'll be back around two in the afternoon. The last two lessons are substitutions at the library, I don't have to be at them. I'll come and we'll go to Dr. Wills.- I presented her with the plan for the day as we did every day. Sometimes I hated this school so much, it just took time away from me and us.

- I can go alone, you don't have to always go with me- She muttered quietly, and I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. We had gone over this a large number of times, too. She didn't want to worry me, but she also knew that I would be even more worried if I didn't hear what the doctors had to say. And she continued trying to convince me. To no avail.

-Remember not to eat breakfast, because you need to be fasting so they can do possible tests. And check if we are sure we have all the documents- I said firmly, and for the last few seconds I watched her face looking at me in pain. Not because of my words or behavior, but because this is not how this situation should be. We were supposed to choose my studies and dorms together, not doctors still fearing for the worst

-Two o'clock in the afternoon.- I repeated and walked away from the door to start going down to the first floor of the house.

The gray walls on which hung white frames with photos of the two of us seemed even more overwhelming, which is ironic, because despite such colors earlier it seemed more lively here. The wooden staircase was even darker and duller, which was rare before through the constant obsession to clean that my mother had. Everything was more matte in my eyes. The living room, with its black couch, seemed dark through the drawn curtains and the TV turned off. I looked at it with sadness, for a long time, but I couldn't spend grieving for the soul of this house that had been taken away, or more like forcibly snatched away, because the hands on the small clock hanging on the living room wall were approaching dangerously fast the time at which I would already be late, even though I was specifically leaving early so I could walk to school. I could have taken the bus and had more time, sure, I just didn't see myself sitting around kids of all ages most of whom had too much energy for such an early hour. It was too overwhelming and settling, especially when trying to sort out my thoughts, in which there was also the same chaos.

Reaching for the red sneakers, I could see how worn out they already were. The old version of my mom would have already chastised me for this, after all, I have so many other shoes, I don't need to walk around in the same ones all the time. As for now, Mom, you are not here in this condition, forgive me, I will wear these shoes again. Until you recover.

Shoelaces tangled in my fingers, which annoyed me terribly, but I finally managed to open the door and go outside after this struggle.

I closed the door quietly behind me and looked around. It was still early, so there weren't so many people on the streets yet, although some were also already leaving for work.

The sky was pleasantly bright colors, after all, it was May, soon to be summer vacation. You could feel it in the air, it was also one of the reasons why walking was better than riding the bus. The cobblestones I walked on still had traces of chalk drawings on them in places. Kids did it all the time and some of the artwork was even cute, so other, I don't know if drawing a big dick in the middle of the sidewalk has any deeper meaning, but whatever your soul tells you. This road was so familiar to me that I didn't even need to look where exactly I had to go, I stared into the space in front of me trying to dig as much hope as possible out of the depths of myself for today. With each failed visit there was less and less of it, but it was still there. If you looked hard enough. Through this reverie I remembered about my phone only after a few minutes of walking, so I reached for both the phone and the headphones, and the black case with various stickers immediately greeted me, making me feel embarrassed. Who else decorates their cases like this?

Firing up the device, I didn't expect it to keep going from the moment I picked it up on stand up, but it worked. It looked like it was on its last breaths, but it worked.

Not wanting to test its endurance any longer, I clicked the green icon of the music listening app and went to my liked songs. I selected the first better song, which, as it turned out, was a Ms by alt-J. I can't remember the last time I listened to them. After turning up the volume enough that I could barely hear my own footsteps, I put my phone back in my pocket. If the music suddenly stops, I'll know it's disconnected for amen. The longer I thought about today the more I began to ponder one question. Would I rather it turn out to be some kind of dangerous disease, or that nothing would turn out and we would live like this forever. Both answers made the future seem terribly cold and sad. Ignorance kills, but what can you say about getting news with a death sentence? In my opinion, the scales were very even between the two options.

If I could, I would have taken it, and so I can only worry. It was killing me more and more.

I don't even know when the song switched to meet me in the woods from lord huron.

As I walked past one of the houses I saw a young woman with a baby in a stroller just out for a walk, Riley, had recently moved in here, and we often passed each other on our morning walks. My mother liked her terribly and always offered to help with her daughter, because being a young mother was not easy. But she was lucky because her daughter Tiffany was a adorable baby. She rarely cried, in fact I don't know if I ever saw her cry. She probably took after her mother, the woman was always smiling too.

I don't know if I envy them more or hate them for what they have. Not that I can hate an innocent child, but the very image of them that I see. I quickened my step with my head lowered so that I didn't have to greet her. The bitter feeling inside was enough for this morning. Funnily enough, despite my fear of being late, I was a moment ahead of schedule. Less than ten minutes, however, it's always ten minutes to myself.

The black gate of the school was already wide open, and through the open door of the school you could see people walking down the hallway going about their lives. A large part of these people were from the student club, probably hanging holiday decorations on the walls.

With a quick mental countdown to three, I pulled off my headphones and reached for my phone to turn off the music, but the device's screen was already completely black. At least I now had a purpose than just sitting in a corner and waiting for the bell to ring.

Passing between people was relatively easy when they were busy hanging up tacky posters promoting the selection of any of the summer activities. I didn't believe anyone was coming to most of them on their own.

The school itself was quite large, with several classrooms and a reception area downstairs in addition to a locker room and lockers for the students, and display cases lined up against one wall showing all sorts of awards and diplomas won for our school. Most were probably bought at a pawn shop when no one was looking, I'm not judging, do what you can to have students. The dark staircase leading up was the second floor and then the second floor. I currently stopped at the first, because that's where I was supposed to have my first class for today, and the classroom where everyone should gather soon was open. My bench was next to the windows more or less in the middle, but I sat completely at the back, there were outlets there. A few minutes is nothing if I want to charge my phone, but it is likely that Matt, the person sitting here just happened not to be coming to the first lesson, which would be a salvation in this case. Plugging in the cable, I stared at the screen for a while in anticipation until the familiar icon appeared and it began to turn back on. A few more people came into the classroom, only out of the corner of my eye did I see a familiar face approaching where I was sitting.

- I told you to buy a powerbank- Jane Richardson said with a small smile on her face while pulling my backpack from the chair next to me. We weren't particularly close, but it was always good to have someone to talk to in this place. Her dark brown hair was up in a loose ponytail, and her blue eyes expressed too much excitement for so early in the day.

- I didn't have time for this, I'm still busy- I muttered leaning my head against my hand, but still looked in her direction. She was wearing a black T-shirt with the print of some band and jeans, nothing out of the ordinary, although it wouldn't surprise me if she came in something strange. I don't mean that in a bad way, it's just her style of being.

- That's why I offered to buy it for you recently, and you refused- she reminded me of our conversation that took place probably a week ago. I hoped she would forget about it.

- I will do it soon, so far stealing electricity from the school is quite convenient for me- I said with feigned confidence in my own words. Sometimes I was a little surprised that these sockets still work, it's probably a matter of time. Where do they actually get electricity here if some classrooms are not even lit? Does the director choose for himself what he wants to light at any given time? That would make an interesting conspiracy theory... I thought to myself for a moment drifting away from her words.

- Ugh, probably Nina has again found something related to fairing or some other crap- I was snapped out of my reverie by Jane's exasperated words, and it took me a moment, through a small amount of sleep, to even grasp what she was talking about. Nina Hopkins, an even more energetic girl who read too much about paranormal things, crimes and murderers, I didn't have TOO MUCH negative feelings for her, but I had to admit that she could annoy with her chirping about, for example, how someone quartered someone and ate them.

- Does she have to announce to everyone what she has read?- I asked rhetorically trying to avoid eye contact with the girl we were talking about. Every time she turned her head vigorously it was her black hair and red streak that flew all around. It was impossible to ignore her completely.

- A better question is why she has to practically shout while telling these silly things- replied Jane with a sigh, which was a mistake, because she did it too loudly, thus attracting Nina's attention. Not five seconds passed, and she started approaching our bench. Her mouth opened before she was even completely beside us.

- Hi Jane, Hi Daphne!- She called out turning the chair in the bench in front of us so she could sit facing us.

- Hi nina- We said together resignedly, which did not discourage the girl, because she immediately started waving her phone with a purple case in front of our faces. I was very impressed that the poor thing had not yet flown out of it and hit the floor.

- Look what I read! I thought nothing would interest me anymore, but yet I found it- She threw it excitedly, shoving Jane's phone to read what was displayed on the screen herself. Willing or not, I leaned closer to her to read it too, since I would find out what all the fuss was about anyway. Jane exchanged a glance with me before she started reading aloud something that turned out to be some kind of blog post? I couldn't see exactly, but that's what it looked like.

- I didn't know exactly what I was addressing until the letters F R E D Y A were marked on the quia tab, my friend was delighted that we had finally gotten through to her, it was what she wanted. They then began to negotiate, She needed the help of her powers to become prettier. Fredya wanted to become a physical figure in return. We were young, we didn't know what exactly she wanted, so X agreed. The transaction came to a close, nothing happened then after the conversation ended. No things similar to those scary stories about demons. It was completely as if nothing had happened. I came to the conclusion that she was mocking me and moving the marker herself to add some fear to the whole situation. We dispersed to our homes and everything quieted down for a few days. Blah blah blah, the last time I saw her it didn't look like her. Her eyes were all white and blood was pouring from her mouth, she was choking on it. I don't know where she is now, she's missing and no one has ever seen her again.Jane read, cringing at how poorly the story was written. It was immediately obvious that it was some kind of Creepypasta or something like that.

- How exactly is this different from the millions of other scary stories you've made us read?- I asked, watching Jane pull out a water bottle as reading it finished her off. Nina looked even more delighted by it all.

- The fact that people were actually able to contact her! There are articles and videos!- She responded by snatching the phone out of Jane's hand to show the said evidence. I forgot not to ask about such things.

- It's just a story, just because ghost hunters on the internet made up that they contacted that whole Fredya thing, it doesn't mean that it really happened- Jane spoke up looking at Nina like a child who believes in the Bloody Mary myth. I felt the same way, I had already heard so many stories from her mouth that it was getting boring.

- It's not about ghost hunters, the girl really disappeared after trying to summon her- She defended her opinion fiercely by showing us the phone again, this time with a real article in which they wrote about the disappearance of a young girl after playing at contacting a demon named Fredya. The disappearance was real, the circumstances didn't have to be.

- Nina. A real person went missing, the fact that she was playing with something like this has no connection to it, it's possible that some psychopath is holding her, and you're making proof of the existence of demons. Grow up.- Jane reprimanded her, annoyed by her behavior and how she approached it.

- If you already want to walk and talk about all this, then ask everyone if they have not seen her. - She added looking at her with squinted eyes. Her words caused Nina to fall silent and get up to walk away from us.

- You might not have been so sharp- I muttered as I watched her return to her seat. Jane was right, but she could have done things differently.Especially since Nina now looked like a kicked dog.

- Someone needs to talk some sense into her- She just replied and shrugged her shoulders. I didn't even know what to say anymore and fortunately the bell saved me from that. Now most of the class was already inside and sat down in their seats. No one rebuked the seats where Jane and I were sitting together. The teacher appeared as soon as the last person entered. You could see from her face a tiredness similar to the one we all felt, this meant another almost slow lesson. We only learned history in theory. Teacher started the lesson by reading something from the textbook, and I rested my head against my hand starting to drive my eyes around the classroom to stay awake. Daily insufficient sleep got me just at such moments, but I couldn't afford to sleep in class, because after the last time, the teachers would start asking if I was okay, and I didn't need their worries, at least not yet. When I start failing seriously, I'll think about it then.

My gaze finally fell back on Nina, who was sitting quietly and writing something down in her notebook. I stared at her for a little longer than I should have. Something in my brain whispered again a few sentences from the article she had read to us. There is no point in typing this and reading it, please give me something else to occupy my time.....

I barely held back a sigh when I turned my phone on again. Being careful not to disturb the teacher, I started searching for something more about "Fredya" maybe it was her funny name that made it so memorable. I felt surprised to see a lot more information containing this strange name. Okay, reading it was much more interesting than the story.

"Fredya is a demon who preys on people's greed. All who turn to her are those who have too little or want more. They ask for many favors and she grants them, while taking away even more. Every wish has consequences depending on what you wish for."

I read my mind while trying not to roll my eyes. Totally sounded like a creepypasta created by a bored teenager.

"There are many ways to contact her, some more effective, some less. The most popular method is to use a quia board, but you have to be careful when doing so. Just because a demon introduces itself by some name or confirms its identity, it further does not mean that you are talking to it personally."

What kind of idiots would be so desperate to use a quia board to help them in their lives. You are asking for more problems yourself.

"Fredya's summoning ritual was written down by an unknown person, several people confirmed its authenticity, however, this is left for everyone to judge for themselves. All you need to perform the summoning is something sharp, a mirror and a dark room.

Execution: We lock ourselves in a dark room together with the mirror, we need to make sure we are alone, otherwise the energy may be disturbed. We sit in front of the mirror, preferably as close as possible. We take a sharp tool that we will use for the most important point. We need our blood, the place where it is taken is an important element during what we want to ask for. The more help we need, the more serious the place of collection should be. For example, if you need help with your love, the wrist is enough. We then smear the blood on the mirror where our eyes are reflected. During this process, we say the words given below.

Within a minute you should get an answer.

ሁሉን ቻይ ፍሬዲያ፣ ለእርዳታዎ በመለመን አነጋግርዎታለሁ። ያለኝን ሁሉ እሰጥሃለሁ። ኃይልህን አበድረኝ፤ በምላሹ ራሴን ሁሉ እሰጣችኋለሁ። ቃሎቼን አድምጡ -.

I felt like my brain stopped working after reading this. It's been a long time since I read something so kitschy. It was so stupid that I turned off my phone and started listening to what the teacher was saying. Jane glared at me over hearing me put my phone back on the bench, but I just nodded so she wouldn't pay attention. It was so irrational that I had it in my head all day. In every lesson, whenever my mind started to get bored it went back to those words. That is, he did it at times when I happened to be awake. Even while eating a stupid sandwich bought with money scavenged from the bottom of my backpack, I couldn't focus on anything else. I read a few more articles, most of which were similar to the one in which there was a recipe for recall, that is stupid.

I don't even know when the lessons passed so quickly, this is one of the few such days.

- Are you coming to my place? We could do this paper together- Jane said as we walked out of the school building along with many other people who randomly pushed us.

- I would like to, but I have to go home, I'm going to a meeting with my mother- I replied sighing at the fact that I had to refuse. Working for literature lessons was always an ordeal, however, was one of the last points of my worries. The first was a doctor's appointment for which I was about to be late.

- Again? Good luck, call me if you change your mind. See you- She called out to me before she disappeared with the others walking toward the parking lot where some of the parents were waiting. I didn't even have time to answer her, but I knew she wouldn't hold it against me. It was time to get back to listening to music.

Without waiting long I immediately sped up my stride and quickly found myself on the road home holding my headphones in one hand and my phone in the other. Trying to avoid others walking in the same direction, I started texting my mother asking if she was ready to go out. I didn't get a reply right away like I usually do, but I wasn't worried about it somehow, she was surely getting ready or trying to catch her breath after a coughing attack, so I shifted my attention to finding some song.

The cold air hit my face making me shiver. I hated this kind of weather, the sun seemingly still shining, yet it was so terribly cold. At least it was some way to wash away any residual fatigue.

I didn't have to try to keep my eyes open as hard as I would have expected, for my attention was caught by a rather large gathering of people on the street between the houses in my neighborhood. The fact that there was also an ambulance standing between them didn't help to curb the anxiety which immediately made me feel as if a stone had dropped in my stomach.

I knew what was going on, even though I begged in my mind that it was a mistake.

A brisk walk turned into a run when I started running straight toward my house where there seemed to be the most heads turned.

- Daphne!- called out Riley trying to stop me from running too close. She didn't make it. Before anyone could stop me I found myself standing in front of my house, the door of which was wide open, and an ambulance was standing not far away. I was in such shock that I didn't know until the end what I was looking at.

Through the open door it was possible to see the three paramedics leaning over my mother lying on the ground. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. My eyes widened at this sight, I felt all the air escape from me.

- Mom- I said expecting her to look in my direction or do anything. She didn't respond.

- Daphne, don't look at it- Riley turned to me again, this time coming over to block my view of my mother's resuscitation. I was so blown away by what I saw that I couldn't even break free from her grasp.

I was unable to put together a single thought in my head, and the words that came out of my mouth were unintelligible gibberish.

- Please make way for us- Commanded one of the paramedics quickly exiting the house towards the ambulance, leaving my mother with the other men who exchanged glances with each other, thus ceasing their vigorous actions.

- No- I choked out, realizing that they were no longer trying to save her, they were letting her lie with her eyes closed and such a calm face she had not had in a long time.

- No, what happened- I repeated falling harder into the arms of the woman, who herself was shocked by what she was seeing. My headphones fell to the ground, now completely forgotten.

- Shh, don't look, don't look- she said pressing my head against her shoulder, but this did not help the feeling of grief filling my heart. It all happened so suddenly and fast, I was not able to process it.

- I have to go with him- I said, watching as the rescuer who had gone to the card earlier was now returning with a stretcher to take the My mother's body.

- You can't, your Aunt Margaret will arrive soon, she will take care of you. I called her- Riley answered me, but it did not reach me. I struggled with her to raise my head and look once again towards the house, ideally to see how they carried her on the gurney. Her body was so.... Strange. She was not shaken by any coughing attacks, she allowed herself to be touched.

Why didn't she say anything, didn't even look in my direction?

I don't even know when my knees gave in under me. If it weren't for the fact that Riley's arms were holding me, I would have definitely felt concrete.

- please disperse, really- Repeated one of the rescuers walking ahead, I also felt then how I was pushed aside to make way for them. Her face was so pale when they moved her next to me, I wanted to reach out my hand towards her, but I couldn't move, I felt like I was frozen.

- I have to go with her- I repeated in amok, but got the same reaction.

- Margaret will be here soon, let's go home.- She whispered raising her hand to stroke my head, then I finally broke out of her grasp. The people watched the ambulance door close and then turned their gaze toward me, as if anticipating some kind of reaction. I saw in their faces grief, sympathy, everything one could feel when looking at a child who had just lost his mother.

- Daphne?- said Riley looking at me worriedly. I opened my mouth, but no words came out of it.

I couldn't stand the feelings and their stares. With a shaky step I walked towards my empty house and without waiting for anyone else to react I slammed the door behind me locking it as I always did when I returned. My gaze immediately fell on the floor where just a moment ago my mother was lying. Nearby lay her phone. It was switched off. How had this happened? It was bad this morning, but it always was. She should be here, we should be leaving now to see a doctor.

Why was it so quiet here?

She had to be here somewhere, it didn't happen.

Barely taking breaths, I started walking to the living room, my backpack fell from my shoulders and fell somewhere on the floor, I didn't pay attention to it, just like the fact that I was still holding my phone in the steel grip of my left hand. I had no control over my body. My eyes scanned the space of the room looking for signs that she would be here somewhere soon. Everything was just as I had left it that morning, no signs of this bad situation.

- this can't be happening- I whispered and tears finally began to flow from my eyes. Only then did I feel what it meant to really suffocate. All the air from my lungs was taken away in such a brutal way that a piercing pain went through my chest.

- Daphne? Please let me in, you shouldn't be alone- called out Riley knocking on the front door, but her voice was distant to me. I didn't even fully understand what she said.

- That's not true- I said to myself staring at the floor before I started hitting my head with my hands. The sobs continued to shake my body barely allowing me to stand up straight.

- That's not true!- I shouted this time and threw the phone somewhere further away from me, but soon my hands were filled with my hair, which I began to pull.

- She is alive- I continued to scream unable to calm down.

- Daphne!- Riley continued to prefer knocking harder on the door. The loud sounds brought me back to reality a little, but they didn't help bring me under control.

My gaze swept quickly across the room once more before stopping on the phone. With a quick step I found myself at the device which was lying on the ground next to a small table. The screen had a few cracks, but when I turned it on it was working flawlessly.

Through my tears I could barely see what I was doing, that didn't stop me. All I had in my mind was this stupid empty name and the desire to be with my mother.

After making sure everything worked, I took a quick step toward the kitchen. I knew exactly what I was going there for, the top drawer in one of the cabinets. That's where the cutlery and all the knives were. By my vigorously pulling the drawer handle, the metal shook loudly in the room. I pulled out the largest blade we had in the house.

- Daphne, please don't do anything stupid!- shouted Riley in the background below as I started walking toward my room. It was the only room in the house that had a large mirror.

Running up the stairs with one hand, I started going back to the article I had read just a few hours ago. I didn't care how silly it looked, all I felt was pain in my heart. I knew that normally I wouldn't be able to do anything.

My room was crowded by everything I hadn't cleaned, in front of the mirror, however, there were only a few scattered clothes.

Throwing my phone and knife on the ground, I walked over to the window to close the curtains, but leaving enough room for the room to still be lit.

I felt like I wasn't myself, as if everything that was happening was in my head.

As soon as the room was darker I sank to my knees in front of the mirror. I couldn't catch a single normal breath even though my sobbing had calmed down enough for me to utter words.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn't even recognize myself. I looked like a wreck of a human being, as if I was no longer human myself. My face was all red and wet with tears.

Reaching for the phone once again I read everything although it was hard because of the blurry words on the screen.

- That's it, you'll be with me- I said to myself without waiting a moment longer just putting the phone down, and grabbing my shirt to pull it over my head. The white bra was reflected in the mirror along with my skin which was not yet scarred by any wounds. The knife was back in my hand, this time held firmly and securely. I knew I had to do it, so taking a breath I raised the knife and pressed the blade against the skin just above my heart. It was not going to be a deep wound, just enough for blood to appear. Without thinking about it for long I made a quick movement that made me take a loud breath. The adrenaline overflowing through me relieved most of the pain, but not completely. I felt the burning rosiness all over my skin, followed by the sensation of blood flowing slowly down the wound. Only then did I let go of the knife to collect as much of the blood as possible on my fingers.

With my other hand, I turned the phone back on and scrolled to the last moment. That is, the words. It took an eternity to copy the text into the translator and see how it was spoken, enough to make the blood flow even more from the wound.

Feeling so much grief and injustice, my mouth opened before my brain had time to encourage me to stop.

- ሁሉን ቻይ ፍሬዲያ፣ ለእርዳታዎ በመለመን አነጋግርዎታለሁ። ያለኝን ሁሉ እሰጥሃለሁ። ኃይልህን አበድረኝ፤ በምላሹ ራሴን ሁሉ እሰጣችኋለሁ። ቃሎቼን አድምጡ - I said in a trembling voice sure I was reading something wrong, and my fingers began to smear on the mirror, blurring my eyes with blood.

- Please kill as many people as you need, but bring her back to life- I added mindlessly looking at my figure. The silence falling after the last word was deafening and frustrating. Almost as if I were not in my room, but in solitary confinement. My throat tightened by the renewed urge to cry.

- I want her back, I just want to see her- I whispered rubbing my face, accidentally smearing the remaining blood on my cheeks.

The throbbing wound forced me to look in the mirror again, I don't even know when the blood slowed down and I didn't look at the wound after lifting my gaze. I couldn't when instead of my reflection I saw a black figure. Only then did it occur to me what I had actually done.

- oh my god- I screamed, taking a step back, but still looking at something that should have been my reflection. My heart did not have a moment's peace, it was again beating as fast as before.

- this is not possible- I muttered watching as something looking like a black mist disappeared more and more, showing my figure, as if nothing had happened. After a second, my reflection seemed completely normal, until I looked into my own eyes. I thought I was hallucinating because of everything that was happening when I looked at my face. My eyebrows furrowed and my head tilted slightly, checking to see if the reflection was really mine.

It seemed that everything was ok, everything except my eyes. In the reflection, they were completely white. There were no irises in them. It must have been my imagination.

Still filled with anxiety, I moved back to the front, slowly returning to the same spot as just before, perfectly in front of the mirror.

The empty eyes that were supposed to be mine seemed to invade my soul, creating a pressure in me that I had never felt.

- What the fuck- I muttered moving even closer against everything my brain was telling me. The closer I got to my reflection the more it seemed to me that it wasn't me.

Only when I was only a few inches from the glass did I realize how much of a mistake my grief had driven me into.

My reflection tilted its head to the side with a mocking smile on its face and everything that happened next was too fast for me to react.

My reflection's hands came out of the mirror and grabbed my hair, pulling my head hard against the mirror, hitting it and shattering it.

The shattering glass being so close wounded my face and almost robbed me of my sight.

Despite the blood now flowing in waves, I pushed myself away with my residual strength from the shards of glass and the now empty frame of the mirror.

- no, no, no- I repeated trying to get up despite my shaking legs to run out of that room, but as soon as I rose to my feet, I felt my stomach clench so hard that I threw up the second breakfast I had eaten at school. In addition to the disgusting mixture, blood also flowed from my mouth. It was so sudden and powerful that it shook my whole body. I looked at it in horror and the sobbing now resembled a lament.

- please don't- I screamed trying to reach the door, through my hand then such a tremendous pain passed as if someone had just broken it. I screamed falling to my knees and pressed it to my chest.

- this can't be happening! What the fuck!- I shouted into the emptiness of my room. I did not get an answer.

I only felt the pain from my hand being replaced by a headache that was like drilling a hole in my skull. I couldn't do anything but scream and try to free myself from this state while still curled up on the floor.

- STOP IT- I screamed writhing from the ever-present pain I felt as if fire was burning my muscles, my head was filled with pressure and my mouth was filled with blood that I had to spit out to keep from choking.

I don't know when my vision began to blur until the ability to see disappeared. I couldn't get rid of the feeling of losing connection with my body, as if I was being ripped away, all combined with endless suffering.

The whole thing lasted maybe a few minutes until it quieted down completely. Everything. All the pain. All the blood flowing, the nausea. All that was left was nothingness.

Through the fact that there were no longer any distractions, I could feel the fact that I could not move my own body. At all.

Despite the desire to move my hands, or at least my head, I couldn't do it. It was as if I was in a conscious dream, paralyzed.

I tried to say something, to call out to someone again in the silence of the house, my mouth remained closed. What was different was my eyes. I felt them open, without my control.

My fingers began to move, I no longer felt the pain that previously radiated in my right hand.

My whole body acted as if it didn't feel pain. It seemed as if my head was looking around before my body began to slowly rise. I couldn't do anything about it, I couldn't interfere.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I was just an observer.

- Thank you for letting me in. I will fulfill your words.- I heard a voice that once belonged to me, now sounding much more hollow.

Immediately after that, I felt another strange sensation, and an image of what was happening to my body was revealed before my eyes.

This thing... It really turned me into just an observer.

- Let me out!- I screamed, watching in horror as someone controlling my body reached for one of my shirts lying on the floor. In the shards of glass I could see "my" reflection. My skin had lost its natural appearance, it looked almost gray, and my eyes were empty. Zero irises. White space alone.

Blood was still everywhere, running down my face and chest.

- You wanted this. You made it happen. I'll bring your mother.- replied the figure pretending to be me acting as if it owned my body. These words crushed me.

- I take it back! It was a mistake!- I shouted trying unsuccessfully to regain control. "I" reached another time towards the floor, this time for a knife lying under other shards of glass. My mother would not want this, would not want me to bring her back by force. Why did I do that?

- Too late.- That's all that came out of "my" mouth before my body started heading toward the stairs. I tried to fight with all my might, but it was no use. My figure easily passed through the living room without even looking at anything other than the exit door from behind which I could hear someone's conversation. If I had control of my heart it would have stopped at that moment.

My neighbor Riley and Aunt Margaret.

- Don't hurt them!-I shouted into the darkness I was after. "I" reached for the lock and opened it, then doing the same with the door.

They immediately turned their gaze in our direction with worry.

The other neighbors had already returned to their homes, but they were definitely watching. I wanted to warn them, tell them to run away, my voice was nothing.

- Daphne! Honey I'm so sorry- Said Margaret coming up to "me" to pull me into a hug, when she came closer, however, she looked into my eyes, saw them, along with blood.

It was a moment when she suddenly leaned over feeling a piercing pain in her abdomen.

- I'm fine- replied the figure claiming to be me and grabbed Margaret's arm to hold her down.

- STOP! - I shouted wanting to close my eyes and not look at it, but SHE, forced me to watch the scene.

- Daphne- Muttered Margaret at which THAT shook its head.

- no, I don't think it's her- replied her icy voice, and then grabbed the knife dragging it up her abdomen, creating an extensive wound from which blood flowed. Margaret was unable to get out any words through the pain and blood flowing out of her mouth.

Riley looking on stood as if frozen in place. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

I wanted her to run away, to tell someone about it, to go back to her daughter, she was unable to.

Before she could force herself to move it was the figure already at her side.

- You can't tell the police about the wrong person- muttered the monster, and plunged the knife into the side of Riley's neck, piercing her arteries.

- Why-is the only thing I could repeat after seeing this. I couldn't even cry, because I had no way to cry.

The monster in charge of my body only smiled

- I return your mother to you.- she said dropping the knife on the ground next to the bodies of the women.

All I could do was watch as my body began to walk away from the place that was my home, toward the next house.

All I could do was watch.

Pay for my greed.

#writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta #creepypasta characters #oc character #my ocs #demon girl #og story #my first story #jane the killer #nina the killer #jeff the killer #slenderman #eyeless jack

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crawavesse · 6 months ago

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Memory lane on how I come up with the fanfic stories : Marble Hornets x Creepypasta , Immortal Universe/Limbo in Immortality

Marble Hornets spoiler below.

I have made this idea ever since I have interacted with Marble Hornets and Creepypasta through Deviantart. My poor highschool mind...

I originally write this out of spite for what Creepypasta fandom has done toward Marble Hornets character and butchering their characters and story, diminishing them to just their masked form and made what's behind the mask inconsistent despite Marble Hornets was not a Creepypasta OC but an Analog horror played with actors. So I write this story while using Hoodie and Masky actor faces and personality (with a few we see for Brian/Hoodie) instead of the popular interpretation.

I was also at first tried to write Ticci Toby similarly to what the original author written him, cause he was mad with how people written him as peppy and cheery guy. Emphasis on "tried" though. I also fail miserably in the end.

In this fanfiction, Toby was the main character and the story plot was basically figuring out the mystery of Brian. Because this is Marble Hornets x Creepypasta, they all lived in Slenderman mansion. And all the location in Marble Hornets also here.

I barely write the story when I eventually abandoned it because I was overthinking it too much (per usual)

But me leaving this story for several years was not a bad thing cause I eventually see I was writing it for all the wrong reason. Sure I was writing it for me, but I also see how much I limited myself (or maybe overexert myself) just so I could follow the guideline when there is no guideline to begin with. Jeff The Killer backstory was not written by the original author and yet at one point it has become my bible when creating him. Same goes with Eyeless Jack where his backstory was also written by someone else.

Everything I thought about how Brian act and think during his masked era was just that, headcanon. In the end I can never prove it my idea was correct because we will never truly see things from Brian's pov, because my headcanon for Brian in his masked era was an intense paranoia combined with hallucinations where he can't separate reality from his mind

And also I write the story out of anger and pettiness. And I don't like the idea of writing a story just to make me think I was better than other writers or I was the right one, they didn't even try to be accurate.

So I done a complete overhaul to the story, although it's a slow process.

First, I still use Ticci Toby for the MC in this second iteration. But because I realized his personality is super ooc and the author didn't want people to use his character anymore, I gave this character many changes. First, I named him Tobiel Castor. Kastoway => Castor. This is my way of showing that despite I didn't use their character anymore, his story resonated strongly with me and I wanted to show my appreciation to him.

I haven't fully decided on the plot for this second iteration, but I remember wanting to make him and Tim to be rivals, just like in Creepypasta version. In the final iteration, it still happened, but they eventually became best friend.

I do not exactly remember what happened next in my brain, but I then decided Tim will be the main character in act 1 and Tobiel will become MC in act 2 of the story. It's because im second iteration, Tobiel would be told to hate Tim because he refused to follow the rules. But why tho? If I added Tim's story in act one, I don't have to think hard on how ro introduce this part in Tobiel's story!

..... In hindsight, I probably can explain it slowly in Tobiel's pov, but I have and habit of tell than show, so I dunno. It's a predicament. But either say, back to the past.

I currently can't remember what made me come up with this premise, but eventually I decided that "forced immortality" will be the part of the main plot. I think it's because some Marble Hornets scenes where the bodies in the sub dimension/The Operator dimension looks extremely fresh.

Or maybe just because ever since I was a child, I was always into writing story about immortals and semi immortals people ever since I watched Digimon and making Devilmon into the semi immortal species. Short lore about them, in my AU/headcanon, Devilmon was originally human before a gooey thing like Venom latches onto them and turn them into Devilmon. Too much of it, you'll lose all of your humanity and turn into feral monster. A bit and resist the gooey influence, and you'll become Devilmon. Other than looking similar to one another, they will also forget their human name, but better evoking than one part of their humanity rather than their entire memories.

Short lore over. But dang, that's one of my favourite fanfic I have written even as a elementary student.

I'll explain Tim's Act in different Post. Not just because this is already long, but also because Tim's act was when I started to really figuring out how the Immortality system works in this fanfic.

Thank you for reading this

#fanfic ideas #marble hornets #creepypasta #Marble hornets x creepypasta #Marble hornets x creepypasta fanfic #AU #Immortal Universe AU #yapping #ramblings #Lim #Limbo in Immortality

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officialcreepypastareheated · 1 year ago

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A Small Ticci Toby Rewrite

It's essentialy the same story just with edits to fix typos, how it was structured, and just general writing issues to make it easier to read.

No hate meant towards the original nor Kastoway, I mostly made this for myself since I like to read creepypastas to others and for fun.

Original Story by Kastoway | Rewrite by me (Alucard)

CW: Alcoholism, Gorey murder scene, Self Destructive scene, Mentioned child death

The light shone through the branches of the trees that surrounded the seemingly endless road, shining into the eyes now and again of the boy in the backseat of the car. The ride home was silent yet held a thick air of tension between him and his mother who'd look into the rear view mirror now and again with concern.

Connie was your average middle aged woman, short brown hair with a fairly basic outfit one may wear for a trip to the store for milk, but her green eyes held a deep sadness accompanied with dark bags from many nights spent awake with worry.

Her son, Toby, in the backseat was worse for wear. He sat hunched over with arms held to his chest and head against the window as he stared out into the dark expanse of the forest. He was messy and his skin had gone pale, cuts littering his face while his right arm had been bandaged up to his shoulder.

You'd think the twitches and jerks he gave were from the pain of his injuries, but that was something he had no worry about as he was incapable of feeling such. He was diagnosed with Congenital Insensitivity to Pain (CIP) long ago, along with Tourette’s Syndrome which of course led to plenty of harassment that'd later cause him to be homeschooled. Life was not easy on Toby, seeming to try breaking him every day, but he found comfort and support from his mother and sister, Lyra, whenever things got rough. That was until recently.

The reason for Toby's injuries and his mother's exhaustion came from the recent car crash he and his sister were in, and her unfortunate passing at the hospital they were now coming home from. His mother stayed stoic with only a sniffle now and again while Toby couldn't help but get flashbacks to the traumatic experience with every bump in the road the car went over. He tried to ignore it by staring out the window but the silence brought on the auditory memories of the car tires screeching, glass shattering, and the screaming of his sister that was cut off once the front of the car had been smashed in.

He continued to try and hold back the tears but his breath still shook, prompting his mom to ask "Want me to turn on the radio?" Toby nodded and exhaled his held breath as the white noise filled the silence that'd been tormenting him. All that came through was a static on this empty and abandoned road, but he'd rather that than nothing any longer.

As their surroundings became more familiar they both relaxed from the ease of soon being able to be in the comfort of their home. What Toby wasn't expecting to see as they pulled up to their blue house was his father, Bryan, in the driveway. "Mom, why is he here?" Toby asked, confused as his mom had told him he had no ride back at the hospital. Toby's dad wasn't there when Lyra passed, too drunk to make the drive from his house outside of town, so Connie gave the excuse his car broke down to prevent him from causing a scene. But now he was here with his own car, working perfectly fine, sitting on the side of the road.

Connie sat silent as Toby asked again with restrained rage both at her lie and his father's sudden presence. "Mom, why is here now? I thought he couldn't make the drive!" She gave a shaking exhale as she regretted lying then. "He couldn't drive because he was drunk again. I knew you'd be upset by it and-" That was all he needed to hear. Toby nearly threw the car door off its hinges as soon as she parked it, slamming it shut and storming towards the front door. Bryan had opened his arms for a hug as he approached only to be passed by and ignored. Connie approached and was immediately met by his usual obnoxious attitude. "No welcome home hug? Should've seen that coming." She gave a glare before walking up beside Toby. Bryan scoffed and followed along at a distance. "Y'know he's sixteen, right? He doesn't need you hovering over-" He was cut off by Connie correcting him in the coldest tone she could manage. "He's seventeen, but I wouldn't expect you to remember." With him now shut down, they both went inside as he remained on the lawn to have a smoke. He knew his presence was less than welcomed.

As they entered, Connie went into the kitchen and looked around at what they had. "Do you want anything to eat, honey?" Toby shook his head and muttered a quiet "No." before shuffling towards the stairs. She expected such, knowing he often had no appetite when upset, but he hadn't been eating much of anything for the past near month now. "Alright, but please try to eat a small breakfast tomorrow. Okay?" Connie asked with a hand on his shoulder. Toby took a second before responding with a nod and heading upstairs to his room.

He closed the door behind himself and once again let go of the held breath. He looked around his familiar room, small and full of the basic things you'd expect in a teen boy's room. Some framed photos sat on his dresser, picturing his family back before his father had fallen into alcoholism. Even worse, Lyra stood in the photos beside him. Before he began to break down again, Toby moved the photo frames to lay face down so he wouldn't have to see her face. He then went to the small bed sat in the corner beside the window of his room. He looked out to the street and tried to focus on the streetlight and forest rather than the thoughts and memories trying to invade his mind.

Toby was so focused that he didn't hear the first few knocks and voice of his mom. "Toby? I know you said you weren't hungry, but I made your favorite for dinner. Please, just come eat one small plate at least. You don't have to sit at the table if you don't want to." He stayed silent for a moment and considered his options before finally opening the door and heading downstairs.

After getting a small plate of food he headed back upstairs, Bryan complaining about him not sitting at the dinner table as Connie tried to explain how he's in mourning and needs his space. Toby expected this and quickened his pace before they began to shout.

He sat in bed with his steadily cooling plate on the table beside it. His appetite had vanished once again, his stomach too filled with grief and frustration to want to eat. Toby tried to fall asleep but the silence of his room with the faint sound of static and muffled shouts from downstairs accompanying it kept him up. Once the shouting died down, footsteps approached followed by the creak of his door and Connie's voice. "Sorry to bother you again, honey, but can I hide in here too?" Toby sighed and sat up as she sat on the bedside, putting a hand on his back. "I hate all this too, but we've still got one another right? I promise things will improve with some time." She did her best to console her son but was only met with tense silence from him. "Let me guess, he isn't leaving soon?" Toby finally spoke, knowing the answer already from a hunch. She nodded with the same exhaustion as him. "I don't know for certain when he'll leave again but, knowing him, it'll be eventually. If I need to, I'll take legal action to have him leave us alone."

They both sat in tense silence before Connie hugged him and stood up. "It's late, get some rest. I'll see if maybe we can go somewhere nice tomorrow to get away from him." Toby, for once, cracked a small smile at thought. "That would be better. Thanks, mom." Connie smiled back before closing the door and going to her own room for the night.

The night continued agonizingly slow as Toby's mind filled with far too vivid nightmares of the car crash. He could almost feel the impact and pressure on the crushed metal trapping him. The worst part was smelling the metallic scent of blood before letting his eyes drift up over the mangled mess that were once a set of legs and to Lyra's frozen face of shock.

Toby shot up in bed as he tried to control his breathing before grabbing a pillow to bury his face in as he broke down and finally let out all the tears he was holding back. He'd never had such a vivid nightmare since the time his father lashed out at his mom, causing Lyra to step in and break it up. She was always the one to keep things from getting too violent, to comfort him and his mom, to keep the peace the best she could. But she was gone now and he was all alone. Not wanting to stay up all night crying, Toby stood up and paced around to tire himself out only for it to not work.

He then looked out the window and into the woods him and Lyra once explored when they were younger. She always loved to forage for the wild berries and mushrooms while teaching him about what was poisonous. There were plans to go camping together sometime in the future, but now it's too late for that. "I'm sorry, Lyra. I hope you aren't mad about that." Toby's gaze shifted back into the darkness of his room as his heart rate finally began to slow; but before he could think of going back to sleep a presence caught his attention. Looking back outside the window, Toby saw something now standing beside the familiar streetlight. A figure that could only be about two feet shorter than it. Their entire figure seemed stretched out, vaguely human but off. Toby was confused and thought that maybe this was a hallucination from sleep deprivation and hunger only to have his ears suddenly fill with a loud ringing. He fell back on his bed and almost rolled off from shock at the overwhelming sound. Wincing and vision beginning to go blurry, he tried to move to stand but it was as if his legs had gone completely numb. Toby looked back to the window to quickly catch a glimpse at the figure now standing right outside of it, a head with no hair, eyes, nothing. The last thing he could hear among the ringing was his heart racing before passing out.

When Toby woke up it was to his mom knocking on his door. He was still dizzy and everything sounded muffled for a moment before he got out of bed and headed for the door. Downstairs was his father too focused on the news on TV and his mom washing dishes in the kitchen. "There you are! I was worried sick, honey. How are you feeling? You look a bit sick." Toby shrugged before suddenly tensing up and running over to the trash bin. Connie panicked and rubbed his back as Bryan finally looked over at the scene. "What's wrong with him now?" She shot a rageful glare as a warning before guiding Toby over to the sink to wash his face off with cold water. "Let's get you back to bed, I'll bring you some warm soup. Get all the rest you can." Toby tried to shake his head but his mom still brought him back upstairs. Bryan complained about his condition still, claiming it was fake or that he was making everything more troublesome.

The next few days of his recovery was filled with being bedridden from nausea and his head spinning, seeing things whenever he went near a mirror or looking out his window, hearing things in the silence of his room each night, and his memory failing him to the point he'd be talking nonsense.

The day his state reached its worst point was mostly uneventful, most of the noise being the sounds of the outdoors or his dad shouting at Connie not to pay him any mind and to cook for him. Toby hated how everything seemed to still be the same after Lyra's death, nothing changed at all other than the fact that now there wasn't anybody to stand up to Bryan. The thought of how things will likely stay like this filled his weakened mind as his jaw clenched. He didn't understand why things had to be like this, why he had to suffer like this, why his mother had to suffer with him, why Lyra had to die. He was so lost in thought and asking why that he didn't hear his mom walk in to check on him. Toby snapped out of it when she ran up to him and pulled his hands away from his mouth. "TOBY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she cried out with a tear stained face. He looked at his hands and almost threw up again when he realized what he'd done, feeling the blood on his face and in his mouth. Why did he do that?

Connie immediately took him to the hospital where they did their best to fix up his hands. "There's definitely gonna be tons of scarring, but it's better than losing them. Try not to move them around too much and all should be fine." the doctor explained. Connie thanked them before leading Toby back outside and to their car. "Honey, I'm not going to ignore this anymore. I get that everything has been... just horrible as of recently, which is why I'm going to be taking you to see a psychiatrist." Toby wanted to reject the help, knowing this would be not just troublesome for himself but for his mom too, but he knew that if he didn't accept it things would only get worse. "Okay, I'll go. I won't fight you on it." Toby muttered as he slumped back into his car seat. His mom was relieved by his willingness and hugged him before starting up the car and driving it towards the clinic.

The moment they walked in, the woman at the desk looked over and welcomed them in. "Mrs. Rogers, yes? You're right on time! Let me get you two signed in and I'll take Toby to the room to speak with the doctor." He looked around the clinic's lobby and hallways before he even knew he was sitting in the psychiatrist's office. He almost began to chew at his hands again, raising them to his mouth and biting at the bandages, but was stopped when the door opened. A woman in a long coat with a clipboard entered and introduced herself as she sat down. "Hello, Toby. I'm Doctor Oliver and I'll be asking you a couple questions. You have no time limit and can skip any if you're not comfortable with answering them just yet. How are you feeling right now?" Toby looked around the room decorated with bookshelves, boxes with toys likely for the younger patients, paintings on the walls, and potted plants. "I'm doing okay. Nothing in here is bothering me if that's what you're asking." The doctor nods and writes down something on her clipboard. "Good to know. Have you been to therapy before?" Toby shakes his head and she writes it down. The next few questions were just basic information like his full name and age. The only point where he got a bit uncomfortable was when she asked "Who all do you live with?"

Toby hesitated and thought about his words before speaking. "My mom, she brought me here, Bryan, and... there was my sister but she passed away a few days ago." Doctor Oliver frowned and put the clipboard down for a moment. "Your mom let me know you're mourning, I'm very sorry for what happened. I won't pry on that but if you ever want to talk about it you can ask, okay?" Toby nods, already feeling more comfortable and safe around her. Doctor Oliver picked the clipboard back up and asked her next question. "You mentioned Bryan, is that your father?" Toby nodded again and she continued. "How is your relationship with him?" Doctor Oliver readied her pen over her clipboard as Toby took a moment to stare down at his bandaged hands.

He calmed his breathing before opening his mouth to speak, only for the familiar ringing from nights ago to suddenly fill his ears. His vision blurred again and he winced from the discomfort. "Toby?" she asked as he suddenly stood up and looked outside the window. It was back, that thing was back and watching him from a distance outside the window. It was standing in broad daylight on the street as everybody walked past it as if it didn't exist. "I... I need to go. Can I leave?" Toby asked in a panic, prompting Doctor Oliver to put her clipboard back down and guide him to the door. She explains to Connie that he seemed to get upset halfway through and they schedule another session for next week.

Toby laid in his bed and stared up at the ceiling that night. He tied his curtains shut long ago out of fear of seeing figures or that faceless thing outside his window again, as well as Doctor Oliver suggesting him to do so. It helped to ease his nerves and let him get some sleep, but it seemed his hallucinations were getting smarter when he heard the patter of footsteps outside in the hall. When did his door open?

Curious, he stepped out to investigate the noise in the dark hall that was dimly lit by the moonlight peeking in through the single window at the end of it. He tried turning on the lights only to find they weren't working. "Mom? You up?" Toby called out quietly but got no answer except for his room's door slamming shut behind him. He turned around to look at it before turning back around when he heard footsteps run up behind him, finding an all too familiar face staring down at him. "Lyra?" he whispered hesitantly, not entirely sure if this could be her since she seemed to be rotted now. Her eyes were clouded over, her skin was pale, and the entire right side of her jaw was now dangling on by the bit of tissue left intact. Glass was still lodged in her forehead with blood covering her face from the wounds. The only recognizable traits were her clothes and blonde ponytail, her exact outfit from the day of the car crash.

Toby tried to move away but every small movement his feet made were met by Lyra moving to block his way with a disgusting and chilling crackling of shattered bones and torn muscle. Toby knew her legs were likely mangled but refused to even glance down to see them. "Lyra, I'm sorry! I don't know what I did or why you're here, but I"m sorry! Please just leave me alone!" Toby begged for her to leave but was soon grabbed by the shoulders and thrown down to the ground. Toby shut his eyes and braced himself to be torn apart or tortured, whatever she had planned for him, but nothing happened. He slowly opened his eyes again and looked up to see something far worse than he thought. That thing, the faceless monster that was stalking him for all these days, was standing right in front of him now. "Wha... What are you? WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

Toby sat up in bed covered in sweat and hyperventilating. Was that a nightmare? It felt so real. Why was he dreaming so vividly recently? It was never like this before. Then again he was being given some meds now in hopes it'd help his mental recovery more, these could be part of the side effects he was told there might be.

Toby walked downstairs to talk to his mom about it and maybe talk to Doctor Oliver about how to better manage it only to find his dad in the living room. "She must be out getting groceries." Toby thought as he snuck into the kitchen. He decided to grab a sandwich and went to pick up a knife to cut up some tomatoes only to freeze when he heard a voice whisper into his ear. "Do it." it breathed, causing him to jump and whip around. There was nothing there though so he waved it off as another hallucination or side effect. As soon as he turned back around though it came right back. "Toby, do it! He's not paying attention, you're both alone, kill him! End this misery! Do it for me." That caught his attention. He recognizes the voice as Lyra's. She's here, she wants to help after all!

No, wait, this isn't right. Toby tried to remember Doctor Oliver's words about these things, but he couldn't. Every attempt to remember all those sessions were nothing but static and muffled white noise. Was there ever even a clinic? Was that all just more of his hallucinations? Maybe this was all a dream. Yeah, it had to be! This is all in his mind! Toby grabbed the knife and turned towards Bryan who was still too focused on the TV to even realize he was there. As if on autopilot, he crept up behind him as Lyra's voice kept on urging Toby to stab him and end this suffering. "He's not going to leave. He's going to kill all of us before he moves on. That's what he does! He's a parasite, nothing more." The corners of Toby's mouth moved up into a grin as he failed to hold back his laughter. Bryan turned around a bit too late as the knife got plunged right into his forehead. He then got knocked back onto the coffee table as Toby pounced and sunk the knife in repeatedly all over his now still corpse. He knew he was dead, that the pain was over now, but he just couldn't stop yet. He had so many violent urges towards this man stored away from the countless years of abuse that he had to get out now. How long was he stabbing him for? Thirty minutes? An hour now? It doesn't matter. The knife eventually went dull from its use and the gore covering it so he went to grab the hatchets from the garage. One was old and well used while the other was brand new, both would work fine though for chopping up the body. This was what he always needed, this was his therapy, not more meds or talking out his feelings. He had to get rid of the source!

"TOBY!" He dropped the knife and froze at the sudden shout from behind him. "Mom? I thought..." Clarity returned as he looked down at the brutalized and now partly dismembered corpse of his dad. A puddle of blood was soaked into the carpet and his clothes. "What did I do?" Toby mumbled, still frozen in place from shock of what he'd done. Connie ran up to him and grabbed his shoulders which snapped him out of his trance. "TOBY, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!" He tried to explain himself over his mother's shouts but his words fell on deaf and panicking ears. Out of his own panic and fear, he shoved her away and grabbed the hatchets before running back into the garage and locking the door. She banged her fists on the door before going to call the police. Meanwhile, Toby searched around and grabbed what he could see. There was a belt to hold the hatchets, some fuel cans, and matches. Lyra came back and whispered in his ear again "You've watched those horror films, you know what to do. Burn the evidence!" Toby obeyed and grabbed them before running out through the garage door and into the street, letting the fuel spill out behind him. He could hear the police sirens approach and picked up his pace towards the woods. He knew those woods and how to live in them so they're the perfect place to hide. Once his feet touched the grass and the gasoline can ran out, he struck a match and tossed it out onto the trail.

The entire street caught aflame and a smile appeared on his face, even with the flames spreading around him. He never felt such warmth before, comforting and freeing. This was way better than some half hearted hug that didn't fix anything, or talking to someone who just threw him some pills that did nothing but give him nightmares. "Lyra, we did it! We're free! We're-" Toby has turned around in celebration only to find it standing there again. Lyra was gone, she was never here in the first place, just this monster used her face and voice to deceive him. Before he could say or do anything, a long fingered hand touched his shoulder and everything went black.

Connie sat in the kitchen of her sister, Lori, as they drank coffee together. She'd been staying with her for a few weeks now after the arson that left her home destroyed and her family entirely dead and gone. The police were doing their best to investigate what all happened and find any possible signs that Toby was still alive, but nothing had come up last she checked in on the case. Lori could tell she was still dwelling on it all and switched on the news. "Can't wait for that sunny weekend!" the reporter began "In more somber news, we've had another murder last night of four middle school kids. They were bludgeoned and stabbed from what could be seen at the scene but we're still waiting for the autopsy report. What we know right now is a likely murder weapon that gives us a culprit." A picture appears that catches Connie's attention. "This is the dull hatchet that was left behind. Police believe, from this evidence, that the culprit is seventeen year old boy Toby Rogers, the missing person and wanted murderer/arsonist." The reporter continued as Connie stared at the screen. He was alive after all. He's alive in those woods, still mad out of his mind.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #indie #indie comics #indie writer #ask blog #ask box open #update #webcomic #digital artist #creepypasta rewrite #ticci toby #toby rogers

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ne0nlightzz · 2 years ago

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Don't Forget The Sun | Creepypasta X FTM!Reader

Side note/ A/N: this is my story that i have put here for those who don't want to go to Wattpad in this unfortunate time of ao3 being down [mostly a joke] also how does one format a full story part on tumblr? i need some guidance here

story masterlist

PART: TWO

3:14am

That's what the alarm clock next to my bed read when I glanced over to it from where I was sitting at my desk, being back "home" is weird and unsettling but also oddly reassuring and nostalgic.

The way I've been sitting at my desk, listening to music quietly and writing [or drawing] with only my lamp lighting up the small area due to me being unable to sleep is bound to get me in trouble, or at least it would if I was at mother's place.

I looked down at my work, I've been working on a story [or drawing] all night and it's honestly still not the best, could definitely use some tweaking to be better.

Putting down my pen and taking out an ear bud I spun around in my chair to face the window above my bed, it was nearly pitch black outside my window, only the streetlight a bit past the house illuminating the street and end of the driveway dimly.

I stood up and stretched my arms above my head before I walked to my bed and crawled onto it and over to the window, squinting as I looked out of it, struggling to see but being able to make out...the outline of something standing at the very end of the driveway, it seemed to be a person?...maybe a dog??

I don't know but I honestly am not even going to question what it was or why it was there because foe all I know it could be fake and just my mind playing tricks on me, plus I've seen so many weird and creepy things that I never knew if they were real or not.

"Beep beep beep!"

That's all I heard as I laid in my bed haft asleep, assuming it was just my alarm I had lazily grabbed my phone from under my pillow and forced my eyes open so I could see my phone screen too shut off any other obnoxious alarms that might be set.

Once i finally got my phone unlocked and the alarm app was open I was slightly confused when I was met with zero alarms set, but then again i have zero memory of even setting my alarms before I fell asleep last night that I started to move my phone so I could just go back to sleep but when I moved my phone I was met with the face of a 7 year old in my face

"Ah! What the hell!" I yelled as I sat up and swatted the kid away

"Good mornth'ng!!" The little girl shouted, a lisp present as she did so, then smile widely

"S-s-screw off ya little freak b-because it's-s-s not a 'Good morning' when you wake s-someone up like that!" I scowled but felt kind of bad when the little girls smile dropped and a sad expression appeared on her face, I sighed and rubbed my eyes

"I'm s-s-sorry s-st-stella, I did mean too s-snap" I apologized to the little blonde girl who stood in front on my bed but stuttering with just about every 's' word.

Maybe I should have actually gone to speech therapy, that might have helped, probably not though.

Stella stood there for a moment, seemingly lost in her thoughts before a smile made it back on to her face.

"th's oth'ay bubba! Mama t'id to come get t'ou up!"

I nodded as I forced myself out of bed, standing up and stretching before I put my hand on Stella's shoulder and led her out of my room, closing the door as soon as she was out of the doorway and into the hall.

I quickly changed into black ripped skinny jeans and an old showcase shirt from last year's showcase that I actually didn't part take in like I had planned too.

I also threw on a pair of socks and then my vans before heading to the kitchen. [If you don't like this outfit, please change it to something you prefer!]

Apon walking into the kitchen, I was greeted by Stellas mother, Brooklyn, and Stella in the room.

I sighed, not quite ready to deal with this lady or try to meet Stella's energy so early into my day.

I walked into

the connected dining room area and sat down next to Stella at the dining table, she smiled at me then offered me one of her coloring books that sat next to the one she was coloring in

"Stella, let y/n eat, he just woke up so don't go bothering him and trying to get him to play with you!" Stella's mother fussed at her

Brooklyn isn't a horrible mother, she treats stella better than I thought she would when her and my dad had announced they were going to have a crotch goblin, and she also does use my preferred name and pronouns so bonus points for being a haft decent human, i guess.

though she does tend to fuss at her daughter for dumb things quite often, I guess it's something her and my mother have in common.

"No n-no it's okay Brooke! She's not bo-othering me at a-all and I w-w-want to color with her" I said before Brooklyn could fuss anymore at the small 7year old girl who sat next to me and was now upset, with that Brooklyn gave me a small smile and nod then walked back to the kitchen.

I turned to Stella and put a soft small smile on my face

"S-So, what coloring books do you have again?" I asked and she immediately perked up and pushed her coloring books back to me, I grabbed a Lisa Frank coloring book and some crayons then started to color with Stella for a bit.

After about ten minutes, Brooklyn came and sat across from us.

"So y/n, do you have any plans for this summer?" She asked, trying to make small talk with me.

I thought for a second before looking up from the coloring book I had and shrugging.

"Nope, not really. I might s-s-see if maybe some of m-my old friends wanna hang out at s-some point, but bes-sides that nope." I answer.

Brooklyn nodded and went to say something but quickly stopped herself, I knew what she was about to say but still gave a questioning look, after waiting a moment for her to talk she just shook her head and gave me and Scarlett a small smile before dismissing herself from the table.

That was weird, I know she wanted to say something that referred to the past and I'm haft thankful she didn't but am also curious on what exactly she was going to say.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the suddenness of Stella's shouting.

"Loo'th I'm done colo'thing!" I looked at her and then the finished coloring sheet she was holding up to show me, I gave her a small smile before speaking.

"It looks great s-s-stell!!" I said and I swear I didn't think this kid could look any happier than she already did

"Th'ank you!"

"Wan-n-na go put it on th-he fridge, kiddo?" I asked as I stood up, she was quick to nodding and hand me her coloring page before getting out of her chair and dragging me to the fridge, with that I hung it up as she clapped and jumped around happily.

I guess Dad and Brooke don't hang her stuff up or give her much praise on her work, but I guess that's to be expected from them but it's still kind of shitty.

"H-hey Mrs. Brooklyn, can I as-s-sk a question" I asked as I approached her

"Sure, what is it y/n?" She replied

"Is-s it okay if I go int-to town for a bit?" Once I asked that she seemed to think for a minute before nodding

"I don't see why not, just make sure to be back before it gets dark, okay?" She said kindly with a small smile, and I nodded and quietly said a 'yes ma'am' before rushing to 'my room' and grabbing my now empty backpack, I threw my camera, notebook, hoodie and my meds and ear buds in it before slinging it over my shoulder and rushing back into the dining room and out the door.

Once outside I quickly made my way around the property and to the 'workshop' also known as the shed, I opened the door to find everything nearly the same as when we left, I quickly spotted what I was looking for, the bike that's been in here for years. I quickly grabbed it, surprised it still had air in the tires when I checked, then made my way to the street, when I got to the street I got onto the bike and made my way into town.

I rode my bike through town until I got to the entrance of a familiar looking neighborhood, I stopped outside the neighborhood entrance, hesitant to keep going.

I stood there for a moment contemplating my decisions and staring blankly at the stop sign across the street before shaking my head slightly and sighing.

"Fuck it" I mumbled before getting back on my bike and starting into the neighbor.

A/N

Hey Hey!- 1. If you like this story, please check my info book or convos board because I have some important questions on there regarding this story and how yall would like it to play out. I'm also going to put the main two questions here so please do let me know what yall want!

Q-1- When should this stories timeline be set in? I haven't been able to choose in between current time and the early-mid 2010s so let me know what yall want! [I've included alot of stuff from around the 2000s-mid 2010s] [THIS HAS BEEN ANSWERD AND THE TIME IS RUFFLY SET IN 2012!!}

Q-2- Do yall want the reader to have a relationship with a character romantically? If so who? [keep in mind I've written the reader as a 15–16-year-old.] Also, what character should the reader have a close platonic relationships with? [PLZ ANSWER THIS TUMBLR- IM BEGGING YA-]

------- 2. I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the last and I'm sorry it's taken a bit to get out! My older sister is currently moving and I'm playing a big part in helping pack and all and have been super busy lately.

So due to that everything I've been working on has been postponed or moving slow. I currently have a list of requests I still need to do plus my usual stories [this, we are young, etc]and it's just all moving slow.

Anyway, sorry for the interruption of your program.

I just cringed at myself and I'm sorry for that dorkyness--

-Luv Lee<3]

!NOT THUROUGHLY PROOFREAD OR EDITED BECAUSE I DO NOT HAVE MY LAPTOP!

[12/2/2022]

Edited: [2/16/2023]

Posted to Tumblr on: 7/11/2023. I did not removove the old a/n when posting, i dont know why, i just felt i should leave it.

#trans writers #idk man #wtf am i even doing #writer stuff #creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #qoutev #wattpad #creepy pasta x malereader #creepypasta x ftm reader #creepypasta x male!reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x trans reader #creepypasta x male reader #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta fanfiction

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