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anarchy-n-glitter · 1 year

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Copycat

Summary: After receiving a mysterious offer, a police officer drives to a remote location in the middle of the night to trade the notorious Black Phone off to an unknown buyer.

CHAPTER 1

He could lose his job for this. That was all he could think as he stared out at the slick roads glistening in the glow of his headlights. The rain continued to pour without any signs of slowing, which was unusual for that time of year. Though he was lost in thought he kept a keen eye on the road, trying his best to see through the haze of the rain. Headlights glaring from the other side of the road helped him, as did the brake lights of the cars in front of him. They took it slow. He couldn’t afford to take it slow.

He had to wonder what else could happen if he were caught. Would they charge him? Did this count as tampering with evidence even though the case was long over and solved?

His foot unconsciously pressed harder on the gas pedal. His hands tightened on the steering wheel - his knuckles turning white as he sped through the worsening weather, weaving through traffic with little concern for those around him. It wasn’t the greatest choice he could make. He took a moment to glance at the clear plastic evidence bag on the passenger’s seat with a weary eye. No amount of money should be worth it to do this… yet there he was.

The buyer, who simply identified themselves as “Charlie” in their voicemail, seemed like one of those true crime freaks. She seemed way too interested in the phone - that stupid phone that winked tauntingly at him under the street lights, like it knew he was anxious. It made him feel dirty. Guilty.

That damn thing gave off the worst energy when he was around it, like something was attached to it and that thing wanted to hurt him. He was honestly surprised it didn’t ring while locked up in the evidence locker. His hands shook when he unlocked the locker, and when he collected the phone, frightened it would ring and give him away to whatever lurked in the darkness of the closed precinct. The cop couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would willingly go near it, let alone buy the damn thing.

“Charlie” said she was a writer trying her best to understand the horrors of the Denver Grabber, and that explanation made enough sense and solved the mystery of the missing mask. She definitely bought it off of another cop, which meant he probably had nothing to worry about when it came to keeping his job. Getting rid of the mask and now the phone felt like a relief to the officer, who truly wanted nothing to do with the items now that the case was over, and giving them to a writer seemed like a better option than auctioning them off to some rich freak years down the line.

The rendezvous spot was an old, decrepit building just outside of the suburbs. It was an old warehouse just off of the main road in the middle of what was now a blossoming field filled with long grass and most likely all sorts of snakes and rodents. Even further behind it was a forest with dark, looming trees that he wouldn’t be caught dead near. The warehouse itself was built in the thirties and quickly renovated into a factory to build aircrafts and such during World War II. Sometime in ‘65 it was converted back to a warehouse for a quickly sinking company, and then it was closed officially in ‘73 and never sold. The vandals and drug addicts got to it quickly, leaving behind broken windows and knocked down doors as well as graffiti mosaics on the concrete.

And now the cop was driving up to it with an offering. He felt dirty. He felt guilty.

“Charlie” was leaning against a black 1972 Chevy Nova with her back facing the approaching vehicle. She was parked under the mostly intact awning in front of the dark maw of the building. The awning was leaking water through small tears in its fabric and it landed on her car, splashing in the puddle that was no doubt forming on the roof. She remained dry though, nonchalantly checking her watch even though she knew that the cop was there. The headlights cast large shadows across the concrete walls of the building. A larger than life shadow for a larger than life person.

The woman herself wore a large leopard print coat with the collar pulled up around her neck, undoubtedly to combat the quickly dropping temperature. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. On her hands were black leather gloves that beckoned the officer to come closer. She hadn’t said a word, nor had she really acknowledged him besides the slight hand wave. In that moment he realized he was handing the phone over to a freak, regardless of occupation.

This is wrong, the officer thought to himself, this is a murder weapon. He believed the monster got what he deserved in the end, but handing off the phone to the first person who calls and is willing to pay felt wrong. Not only was it a murder weapon, but it bore witness to the murder of several children, and he wasn’t sure how he could handle looking at the thing knowing that. He had to wonder if there was something wrong with this “Charlie.” She’s probably seen worse, he rationalized as he got closer to her.

“Are you Charlie Myers?” She still didn’t look at him. Her hand came up to her face before she spoke.

“Yes sir, I am.” Her voice was higher than he expected, and it sounded a bit muffled too. He wondered if she truly was the person who left the voicemail. It made him want to stop in his tracks.

“You have the money?” He continued on, holding out the phone as he inched nearer. Her shoulders stiffened for a moment.

“Oh yeah, give me a sec I’ll get it.” Her gloved hand reached into her handbag, sending nervous chills down the officer’s spine. He knew something wasn’t right. His hand immediately shot to his right hip where his gun holster sat. His instinct told him to turn around and return the phone - his instincts told him this woman was no good.

“Actually ma’am, can you do that facing me? Can’t be too careful these days.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight as the woman froze. Her hand was still firmly inside the handbag. She slowly turned around to reveal a ghostly white, porcelain mask. Black eyes stared at the officer as he froze in fear, unsure of what to do now that his suspicions were confirmed.

“Sure thing officer.”

This was a copycat killer.

He moved quickly to draw his gun, but he wasn’t quick enough. From her black clutch, the buyer produced a handgun and fired three times, hitting the officer in the shoulder twice before hitting its mark: his chest. The officer let out a groan and fell to the ground in a matter of seconds. Despite everything she still wasn’t entirely used to how quickly they fell.

Calmly, methodically, the woman stalked over, giving a horrifyingly closer look at the mask she wore to conceal her true identity. Through blurry eyes the officer saw the familiar porcelain, with reddish-pink cheeks to simulate blush and long painted on eyelashes. The lips of the mask were small and black and curled slightly upward in an unsettling smile. It looked almost clown-like, though not overtly so. She could be seen as a doll.

The woman stared silently as the officer wheezed, choking on his own blood as it filled his lungs and throat. She tilted her head like a dog observing a squeaky toy, listening to his suffering. Her gaze shifted from the dying man to the phone that laid a few feet from what would be his final resting place. She looked back at him and pointed the gun at his head as the officer began to weakly sputter out cowardly pleas, clutching his chest and panting. His face was wet with rain and tears. The rasp in his voice was disgusting to her.

She pulled the trigger to finally silence him. No more rattling. No more pleas.

The patter of rain echoed louder in the suddenly still night, along with the running engine of the dead officer’s car. Her gaze was focused on the phone. That damn phone. He used to yell about it - about the ringing, about the voices. When she was allowed near it she couldn’t hear anything, and it didn’t ring when she picked it up. That damn phone.

It was hers.

_____________

It was fall when they met. She remembered the chilling weather and dying trees well. She remembered the clothes she wore, how her hair was done. She often could recall trivial things like that, especially when it came to meeting new people.

She knew Max, and he considered her a friend. He came to her after losing his job, and while she knew the reason for it, she actually didn’t mind. Max not having to work meant that she could be around him more often. Yet, her selfish desires didn’t stop her from helping him. She considered that to be her best trait - her fierce loyalty and protectiveness. If there was a problem bugging someone she cared about she’d fix that problem.

Max was rambling on and on in an anxiety-induced stupor as he tried to figure out what to do. No one would hire him with the record he now had, and on top of that he had to go to meetings mandated by the court. All she could do was watch, wait, and think. He eventually told her that he contacted his brother, and while he still had to look for a job, his brother would be taking him in. His brother who lived in Denver.

Denver.

Those words weighed heavily on her. It sunk into her chest and weighed on her heart - it ached. She didn’t like that at all.

He must have wanted to leave her, like everyone else did. She didn’t like that.

“Denver? Denver? That’s like, six hours away. I can’t hang out with you if you’re six hours away.” She wondered if she came off too strongly. Her hands were sweating.

“To be fair, I am going there to get better.” He wasn’t even looking at her.

“And I can’t help you with that?” She asked, not caring about how she came off anymore.

“Look, you’re my best friend and I do love hanging out with you but I think it’s best for me to start fresh for a few months and then see-”

“I thought you said your family was fucked up. You said you wouldn’t ever go near them ever again.” She couldn’t believe that she ever took him seriously when he said that. The concerned look on his face turned grim.

“They… you know who I mean when I say that. My brother’s helping me and I’m sure he managed to get help, unlike me.” She felt he was saying this to placate her. His demeanor had changed, and she didn’t like that. It felt like he was shutting down, growing colder as he shrugged off her comments.

“What did I do wrong?” She couldn’t help but ask him. He furrowed his brow.

“What? Nothing, I’m just -”

“If I didn’t do anything wrong then why are you leaving me?” She raised her voice slightly, feeling her heart ache and race at the same time. “I thought you liked me!”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. He did like her, she was his best friend. She had been there for him even at his lowest. She was sweet and kind but at the moment she was scaring him. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t upset her further. The look on her face was reminiscent of a madman, and part of him was afraid of what she’d do next.

“You can drive me there if you want, come see the place and help me move in.” He offered, hoping that would be enough to make her feel better. Her expression softened for a moment, but she was still worked up.

“Let me come with you. For the whole time. I’ll look for a job there and an apartment. Don’t cut me out Max, I’ve seen what you do. You just leave people behind and I won’t let you do that to me.” He nodded along, letting her get her thoughts out, hoping she’d calm down soon. He’d seen her worked up before but not like this.

“Sure, we can do that.” He agreed half heartedly, watching her calm down at his reassurance.

She remembered the day she met him, it was fall. She drove him to the small suburban home in Denver, brought his boxes of various items inside, and for the most part it seemed she wouldn’t be meeting Max’s brother.

Then he stepped out of the basement.

He was tall, with shaggy, greying hair that dusted his shoulders. She wasn’t sure what to think as she froze in her tracks. He didn’t seem to want to speak with anyone, and as he avoided eye contact with her as he made his way down the hallway she thought she had gotten the hint.

“Oh, you must be Max’s brother.” She mused in a tone that hid her anxiety. Dark eyes stared at her for a moment. His lips were thin and a look of seriousness was chiseled into his features, as well as tiredness. His eyes, though. His eyes seemed to hold some sort of life. He looked as if he were sizing her up, waiting for her to make a move or say something. She shifted the box around in her arms, freeing one of her hands as she held it out for him to take.

“I’m Tanya.” She introduced. Much like moments earlier, he stared at her for a moment before gingerly taking her hand in his. Tanya wasn’t sure what to think just yet, but he was able to take Max in, and while he was a bit weird she was sure he was a good person.

He glanced over Tanya, as if looking out for something, as he muttered his own name. “Albert.” His voice was much higher than she expected, and softer. She smiled, ignoring the changing expression on her new acquaintance’s face. He hadn’t let go yet.

Albert wasn’t exactly thrilled about his brother coming to live with him. He didn’t care about the drugs Max would undoubtedly bring into the house, nor did he really care about what happened to Max. He cared about who Max might be bringing around. The girl in front of him could have been a good solution to Max’s problem, and even then he didn’t know why Tanya was there. He watched her with a distrustful eye from the basement window as she brought each box inside from her car. He wanted to know who she was and why she was there. She obviously knew about him, so what was she hiding?

“Sorry about this being kinda last minute, Max didn’t even tell me he was doing this until yesterday but… it’s really cool that you’d do this for him.” He tugged her forward by the hand she so graciously offered, causing her to drop the box of clothing. The pull itself wasn’t that hard, she was caught off guard by it. The noise it made was loud - loud enough to draw attention to what was happening assuming Max wasn’t outside.

Even a mere inches from his face she was unafraid, still staring into his eyes unyieldingly as her breath caught in her throat. She felt her nerves building, unable to break the feeling she had earlier when she first set her sights on him. It was a familiar feeling she felt before, one that had her cancel plans to drive Max out there in the first place. She could feel the way her heart shifted, the way she felt about Max changing in an instant.

She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t throw everything away like that again.

“He couldn’t stay with you?” He asked, whispering the question in her ear like it were a dirty secret. Tanya snapped out of her thoughts, taken off guard.

“No… we talked about it though, tried to make it work.” She answered truthfully and out loud, though she made no effort to hide her displeasure with the situation. Her new, oncoming fixation with Albert wouldn’t erase the hurt and betrayal she felt from Max moving anytime soon. His grip on her hand tightened for a moment as he scoffed. “Again I’m sorry if it was last minute, I know he does stuff like that and-”

Albert backed away, suddenly smiling. She wondered if Max was behind them and checked over her shoulder, only to see no one was there.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tanya.” Her heart fluttered at the sound of him saying her name. He crouched down to pick up the clothes that slipped out of the box when she dropped it, and all she could do was watch.

“Thanks.” She muttered, trying to take the box back from him.

“I got it, don’t worry. You should get going, it’s a long drive back to Durango.” She couldn’t help but furrow her brow at that. Did he know how she felt? Did he know she hated the idea of living that far away? She brushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“Oh I’m actually moving to Denver soon. I want to keep an eye on him.” That wasn’t entirely true anymore. Six hours was a long drive to come out to see someone she barely knew. He nodded halfheartedly. She wondered if he was actually listening to her. “It was nice meeting you too.” She continued, hoping to get a bigger reaction out of him, but she was met with nothing but his back walking away from her.

“I see you met Al.” Max said, startling Tanya. She looked up at the face of the man she’d loved for months, and found her obsession was fading. He was a good friend.

“Yeah, I did. Seems like he’ll be a good influence.” She remarked almost coldly. Her heart was set on someone else now, that much she couldn’t deny. He was odd and cold, but that never seemed to stop her before. She couldn’t do it again.

She couldn’t do it again.

She knew she would do it again, and she was ready to sacrifice anything to get close to him.

#the black phone #albert shaw #the grabber #the grabber x oc #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw x you #albert shaw x oc #the black phone fanfic #max shaw #implied max shaw x reader

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girlwithwolftatoo · 2 years

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The Devil and the Flower -chapter 9

The Boogeyman's tale

Albert flashback

Words: 2893

Nothing inspired him to live, it seemed to him that existing was a kind of premeditated punishment, a contest run by an unjust and cruel god who sought to test a bunch of beings to fight for a hypothetical paradise, because Earth was definitely hell. He learned that from a young age, and his father, his damn father, made sure he never forgot it.

His mother became very sick and weak after Max was born, he remembered seeing her constantly in bed, nursing the newborn, and holding out a hand to ask him, silently, to come closer; the baby had thin but black hair, just like her, on the other hand he had inherited that sad coppery hair possessed by the father, a big, grumpy man, who swore to everyone that he served his country and even had a medal to prove it, although many years later he would learn that he was only in the reserves at a base within his own country.

He loved to feel his mother's fingers stroking his hair, loved to curl up next to her and sleep to forget the horror that came with Mr. Shaw. He hated everything about him, on the other hand, his baleful eyes, his thick hairy arms that he always uncovered up to his forearm, his crooked teeth that he showed in smiles that made him think of those African dogs, hyenas he thought they were called, and most of all he hated that she insulted him for preferring to be with his mother.

Pansy, Miss Nancy, waste. He was going to make him a man whether he wanted to or not, and what exactly was being a man? Not crying when he got hit, standing up and punching back at boys who picked on him, having ice in his heart.

He thought with great relief that his mother was on the mend, when at six months old Max saw her get up and go about her life as usual. But he was wrong, what Albert witnessed was the last burst of a star about to burn out. Mrs. Shaw passed away a few months later, no one knew why.

The father became even more tyrannical, he had been left alone with a baby and (in his words) a pile of a brat. As Max was still very young, he was forced to hire a nanny, and then another, Albert counted about five nannies in just two years, and they were all leaving because they couldn't stand the damn man. Mr. Shaw then decided that Max, at three years old, was old enough to be left alone with his brother, and so the teenager became the accidental lord and master of the house. While his father worked, Albert looked after Max, cleaned, cooked, did everything as he remembered, with great regret, that his mother once did, but his father had only words of contempt for him.

"Not bad" he said, stuffing himself with a mixture of beans and meat as he gave him a sly look "for a sissy."

He had to drop little Max off at kindergarten and then head to high school. No one asked about his black eyes or his chapped lips anymore, the teachers looked at him with pity, but Albert shunned them when they tried to help him, they weren't his mother, they didn't matter to him. Mr. Shaw had an accident when he was almost sixteen, and that meant only one thing:

"You're going to work in the evenings, you won't eat here unless you contribute."

He saw his father lying on the couch, with a broken arm and dislocated hip, and began to fantasize about waking up one day to find him there, dead.

Happiness translated into the few moments he could share with Max, accompanying him to his friends' houses (how envious, that little boy with bulging eyes and black hair did have friends who were interested in him) and greeting the other little ones with equal affection. It then occurred to him to learn a rather simple magic trick he saw on TV, to amuse the kids, and Max and his buddies clapped their hands until they were red. Albert was the best big brother, they thought, their older siblings usually ignored or sometimes mistreated them.

They were good kids, why should they get such unfair punishments? And he, hadn't he ever been a good kid? Every time he passed into the kitchen and saw the cellar door, he shivered, there was never day or night there, the silence was only broken by his own moans and the squeaks of a few rats.

He barely finished high school, at eighteen he was the only one at home who worked, his father began to collect a pension, and he constantly heard him complaining on the phone, demanding more money. Albert didn't like the phones, whenever they rang they always brought bad news, and when they didn't ring....

One day, after entertaining the not-so-young Max and company, he had to go down to the basement. Old man Shaw was napping on his couch, snoring like a damn asthmatic pig, and saw the phone hanging lifelessly on the wall; as a kid, he came to think that if he stayed quiet long enough, he'd hear voices on the other side of the speaker, the only problem was that those voices didn't exist, at least not on that plane.

"Why does Dad have that phone there?" asked Max sometime. He was old enough to go back and forth on his own, and had saved up to buy a comic book that he read face down in his bunk.

"Maybe it worked during the war," Albert reasoned, "Because of the bomb shelters and all."

"Will you come with me to the movies? It's the grand opening, they say they're giving out free popcorn."

"I can't, you know that" sighed Albert. The fun was something he couldn't remember ever experiencing.

"Oh... Well, I'll save you some popcorn, I'll go with Will and Terry."

Old man Shaw didn't just veg out alone because of his disabilities, sometimes he would leave the house, limping because he refused to use a cane, and Albert would have to fetch him from the bar or from the home of one of the few individuals who tolerated his presence. On one of those endless nights, when he was twenty-five years old, he came across a group of girls. Their hair had an artificial curl, their lips were an outrageous crimson, and they were smoking on the park bench, taking advantage of the solitude.

"Hey!" some of them shouted to him, waving their hands at him, "Yeah, you, come on!"

Albert planted himself in front of the bench, counted five girls in all. He had never been conscious of their appearance, and it puzzled him to see those beauties who must have been at most in their early twenties ogling him.

"We're out of fire" said one with a pout "You wouldn't happen to have a lighter?"

"Sorry" he apologized awkwardly.

"You look very old" said another, smiling at him "And very handsome. would you mind buying us a lighter?"

"And something to drink" jumped a third "To share, of course" she added winking at him.

"I don't have much money" replied Albert. The girls wailed under their breath.

"Never mind" said one, who had bright red hair "Let's see... I have two dollars still" she pulled a bill out of her purse, looking at her friends "Come on, don't leave me down!"

Altogether they scraped about ten dollars, and went in entourage after Albert to get him to buy what they needed to continue their night's party. He didn't know at what point he ended up in the park, drinking just to please the ladies and letting a couple of them snuggle up against him. As it passed midnight, he remembered what he had gone out for, and had a hard time disentangling himself from the girls.

"Wait" the redhead took him by the hand and handed him a piece of paper on which she wrote a number in lipstick "Call me later, will you? We've had a lot of fun and... we could do it again."

Albert froze for several seconds with the paper in his hand. He couldn't remember the last time he'd talked to a girl, and suddenly he had an explicit request from one of them for him to look her up. Maybe it would be good, he thought, part of being a man was proving himself to the ladies, and he...he was still a virgin.

Max was a trouble magnet, and often came home from school with traces of fighting, or rather getting beaten up. He was also a bit slow in class, but surprisingly possessed a privileged brain for board games, and could beat the best chess player in high school in minutes; Albert stopped paying attention to him when he started dating Fanny, which was the redhead's name. He wasn't really attracted to her, but taking her around by the arm or waist gave him a new sense of power, and when he finally got the courage to sleep with her, he discovered a new feeling: self-loathing.

If his interest in Fanny was minimal, after the sexual experience it went almost downhill. He went out with her out of habit, uninterested in going further, and found that he felt repulsed towards her, with her red-haired curls and cigarette packs, and that she was trying to drink more and more. One certain weekend, he almost dragged her home because at a party she had overindulged in drink, taking advantage of her parents' absence, and decided that the end had come.

Until he met her.

The first thing he noticed was her hair, black and short, so short that it looked like it had been shaved a few months before; the eyes were big, blue and lively, and he thought how similar they were to his late mother's eyes. But the body was an enigma; they were wearing a large, baggy shirt that came down to his thighs, and worn jeans; not even the voice gave him a concrete clue.

"Fanny!" the creature exclaimed, making way for the grown-ups. "Mom's going to be mad when she gets back!"

"Oh, shut up, Gina," growled the redhead.

"Who is it?" asked Albert, not taking his eyes off the little girl.

"It's my sister, Virginia" Fanny hiccupped, smiling teasingly at him "Forgive her looks, I think she wants to be a boy" and laughed at her own joke, which found no echo in Albert.

He visited Fanny several times that weekend, as an excuse, and then chatted a little with Virginia. The little girl was only thirteen, and so different from her sister that Albert did not know exactly how to treat her; so he tried the only magic trick he knew how to do, and seeing the sincere smile on that innocent face his heart swelled with a happiness he thought dead.

"I don't want to be like Fanny" she confessed to him once, when he agreed to accompany her to buy sweets while the redhead languished her long hangover "Nor like her friends, they're all silly..." and she began to imitate them, mockingly, moving her petite hips with exaggeration and laughing with an annoyed tinkle "I want to be a scientist, a cosmonaut, that would be great, wouldn't it? A cosmonaut girl"

"So it's not true that you want to be a boy?"

"No! Well... boys are a lot of fun, they do a lot more than make up and do their hair, I like that"

Virginia was right, Albert thought, boys were much better than girls, it amused him to see the little ones running out of school, playing in weekend baseball games, getting grossed out by catching a frog when the rains came and the gutter overflowed, wreaking havoc to nearby houses and forcing a slow but inexorable permanent move. And when he saw her there, with the kids, he knew then what it was to really love someone.

It could not be said that he broke up with Fanny, rather they drifted apart so gradually that neither felt like fighting with the other, but Albert kept looking for ways to frequent Virginia and the boys with whom she played. She was kind, cheerful, and would accept him escorting her to the corner of her house.

"I don't want your sister to know..." he explained, chagrined "She'll think I'm using you to find out about her or something."

"Never mind" the teen shrugged, that afternoon she had a cut on her cheek from trying to play soccer, to the horrified Albert who narrowly missed screaming as he saw her rolling on the ground "I think she's dating another boy...Stanley or something, they're not going to last long either."

"I'm glad you don't think about such things" Albert blurted out without thinking. Virginia laughed, giving him a friendly pat on the arm before walking away. If only he had known it was the last time he'd see her....

Mr. Shaw did one last mean thing to his son, falling ill the same week Virginia's family decided to move to another state. Albert tried to get Max to fill in, but now he was the one working, or at least trying to, because the allowance would not be enough to cover hospital expenses. When he finally got out of it, he rushed to the house and found that it was alone, except for a "For Sale" sign.

Albert cried, screamed, pulled his hair and cursed his father. He went back to the hospital that night, and several times he found himself staring at the man lying in bed, daydreaming of a hundred cruel plans to get even with him; at one point he got up and looked at him, anxious, fingers twitching. How bad would it be if he took the pillow from him and pressed it over his old, hated face? He could tell him how much he loathed him as he died, express to him what happiness he would get once he was in the ground, that he would spit on his grave, that he deeply wished hell would swallow him up...

But Mr. Shaw died without his son's hand having anything to do with it, a couple of days later, in rales and shakes of pain that even morphine could not overcome. He was buried in the local cemetery, and very few attended the service, the brothers including themselves.

Life then became an ocean of passing dates, meaningless, purposeless. Max left and returned home several times, and discovered his fondness for substances stronger than alcohol or nicotine, which Albert despised forever. He got a job at the hardware store when he was in his forties and, with his salary and his father's sad inheritance, bought a second house, intending to rent it. But in that shitty town nothing changed too fast, except, it seemed, what made him happy.

He watched generations of children grow up and fade away, and with each one he felt a part of his heart die too. He remembered that love he once professed for magic, and he struggled to learn a few tricks, and finally made his debut at some little party as a part-time magician, with the unimaginative name of Fantastic Al; the applause and surprised faces of the little ones gave him a little of the encouragement that normal life did not provide, and though the pay was poor, he was content with that.

Little by little, his mind became confused, those fleeting moments of happiness were not enough for him, and the loneliness and silence of the house was increasing, because Max could go for more than a year without showing up there; he was a hopeless idiot, but in a way, his presence gave him reasons not to think about dangerous things. Without him, he was a drifting boat, or rather a flame that only needed a bit of dry grass to create a fire.

He remodeled the basement, threw out everything in it and sold the little that possessed any value, except for the telephone, which sometimes still picked up and he thought he heard someone on the other end, sighing, or crying perhaps. The walls were lined in such a way as to drown out any sound, and he bought a bunker door which he then, with the knowledge gained at the hardware store, made suitable for sealing off the lower part of the basement. He didn't even know why he did it, the horrifying ideas swirling around in his head were incomprehensible most of the time, but when he was done, he was proud.

Then in the fall of '77 the basement received its first tenant. It had been so easy to get him there, he was quite small and thin, and he was alone...alone in the rain, kicking a soccer ball with a dreary expression. Why was it that the good kids were the ones who met hell?

That same year, a woman named Alma Gilles was sentenced to fifty years in prison for the murder of her husband, and a little girl, named Violet, began her own journey through the storm.

#the black phone #the black phone fanfic #albert shaw #albert shaw x oc #the grabber x oc #the grabber #the grabber fanfiction #blumhouse

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funnyexel · 2 months

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a thrill ride of obsession (yandere blurb)

its the stalker (yandere blurb)

missing items (yandere blurb)

what if your stalker loses the remaining piece of human decency he has left (yandere blurb)

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stupidbeemeen · 7 months

Text

⚠️NSFW: OC x Cannon⚠️

Arthur Harrow x OC

My first NSFW work 🥺✨

Full pic:👇👇👇

#fanart #arthur harrow x reader #oc artwork #oc x canon #arthur harrow #albert shaw #the grabber #moon knight x reader

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cherryskyies · 2 years

Note

Could you do hcs for the grabber x gn reader who has frequent depressive episodes pls?

The Grabber with an s/o who has depressive episodes

warnings are obvious, enjoy <3

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3

You were doing so good. Once you had adjusted to your new life it was like the sparkle in your eyes had come back and you were content, until now.

It was a steady decline, slow enough that The grabber hadn’t noticed it the first week, assuming you were just more tired than usual and were getting bored of the eggs he served for every meal. The untouched plates and simple responses had angered him more than worried him. To him, this was a tantrum.

But as more time passed and you looked up at him with dead eyes, he knew it was more than a tantrum, so he racked his brain for hours, desperate to remember what he could have done to hurt you and nothing popped up.

“Doll,” he starts, a whisper in your ear as his warm hand caresses your face. “I need you to sit up for me, I need to ask you something.” There is no malice in his tone, instead worry glazes over his features when you barely push yourself up against the wall in a sitting position.

The grabber is hesitant, a rare occurrence. “Have I done something to cause this behavior change?” His voice remains calm and steady, but you can hear the desperation slipping through. “Why are you so sad, my dove?”

It was hard for you to explain properly, stressing the fact it wasn’t anything he had done, but that you had a chemical imbalance and sometimes it hit hard and made it hard to breath, let alone be productive.

I see The grabber being a little upset that you hadn’t come to him about this sooner, but also relieved it wasn’t something he’d done.

During these episodes, he is more gentle and spoils you. Instead of eggs, he makes your favorite meals in an attempt to cheer you up. If you’ve been good enough, he might even offer to get you a little companion, preferably a cat, but he’d do anything to make you smile; he’s your provider after all.

#the grabber x reader #The Grabber #the grabber x you #the grabber headcanons #the grabber oneshot #headcanons #slasher #Slashers #slasher fandom #slasher headcanons #slasher x reader #slashers x oc #slashers x reader #slashers headcanons #slashers imagine #albert shaw #albert x reader #the black phone

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myers-meadow · 2 years

Text

Attention, Grabber x reader enjoyers

If you write Grabber x reader or Grabber x oc, I love you. Thank you for taking time out of your day to write and share your stories with us.

If you've gotten hate for what you've written, I love you. Reach out to friends if you need to, and take care of yourself. You know yourself better than random ppl on the internet.

If you just share your stories with close friends, I love you. There's nothing better than that feeling of connecting with friends over a shared piece of media.

If you enjoy reading Grabber x reader or Grabber x oc, I love you. I hope you have lots of fun in the fandom, reading and reblogging and being able to connect with others through fic.

The character of the Grabber is complex and interesting and the way Ethan Hawke portrayed him gave such depth to his character. There is a lot to be explored through fanfic. It doesn't matter what your motivations are to write for him. Horror can be horror for horror's sake, erotica can be erotica for erotica's sake. We don't always have to analyse each little bit of what we like or to feel guilty for enjoying the things we enjoy. I love you. Remember your worth lies within you as a person, not in other people's perception of you. Drink enough water, take care! 💟

#just a lil positivity for this part of the fandom <3333 #the grabber #the grabber x reader #grabber x reader #grabber x you #albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #the grabber x you #grabber x oc #the grabber x oc #slasher community

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smile-in-the-dark · 2 years

Photo

He’d have me on a silver platter.

#albert shaw #the grabber #my oc #photo edit #the grabber x oc

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nicktremblaywayfu · 4 months

Text

Valentine Letter Request : Open

I miss writing something and I would like to practice with characters I haven't written, so I decided to open my Valentine's letter request. So it's basically you getting a Valentine letter from your comfort/fo characters based on your requested scenario, or you can just ask for a surprise.

How to send the request: Just tell me from whom you'd like to receive the letter, your name (optional tho. I could use "You" as well) and what would you like the letter about.

I do write :

Arthur Harrow

Albert Shaw

Outlast Characters (all Outlast including the comic)

NSFW

x Reader

x OC

I don't write :

Danny (brown hair big grunt) x OC, sorry :( (Danny x Reader is more than welcomed tho)

Loutermilch

Other characters that is not on the list (Sorry fellow Ethan Hawke fans 😔)

All letters will be posted on 14th February in my timezone

Feel free to hit my inbox with a Valentine letter request 💖

-Cheers, Alvin

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ink-and-blood-goddess · 1 year

Text

List of Characters Fanfic Requests III

ATTENTION ALL FANFIC READERS! I REPEAT, ATTENTION ALL FANFIC READERS!!!

My third list of character fanfic requests and request inbox is now opened. My other two fanfic lists are still open for requests, so please send them in.

List of Characters I

List of Characters II

I take my time into writing requests, since I’m busy with my job most of the time and writing my stories, so the request box will be opened and closed from time to time so that I can catch up.

And as a side note here, I DO NOT write for Character x OC fanfic requests AT ALL. I write Character x Reader fanfics ONLY...

List of Characters III

Marcus Corvinus-Underworld Evolution 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Michael Corvin-Underworld 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Lucian-Underworld 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Albert Shaw/The Grabber-The Black Phone 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Legolas-Lord of the Rings Trilogy 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Thranduil-The Hobbit Trilogy 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Aziraphale and Crowley-Good Omens 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Albert Wesker-Resident Evil 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Shadow Moon-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Mad Sweeney-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Technical Boy-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Mr. World-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Michael Kenmore-Stargate Atlantis 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Todd the Wraith-Stargate Atlantis 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Lestat de Lioncourt-The Vampire Chronicles 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Warlock-Warlock and Warlock the Armageddon (With Julian Sands) 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Bo, Vincent, and Lester Sinclair-House of Wax (2005) 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Symbols:

🌸-Fluff

❤️‍🔥-Smut

👐🏻-General

💐-Dating

💘-Romance

🖤-Angst

🔪🩸-Violence

🔞-NSFW

Citrus Scale:

🍑 (Peach)-No Sexual Interactions

🍎 (Citrus)-Romantic hug/or kiss

🍊 (Orange)-Romantic hug/or kiss with a hint of sexual interaction

🍈 (Lime)-Heavy making out with light groping

🍋 (Lemon) Actual Sexual Intercourse

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findroleplay · 11 months

Note

hi! 21+ rper searching for 18+ writer searching for the following rare / toxic ships. most of these ships are dead dove themed, so please be aware of this. bolded char is who i’d write:

yennefer of vengerberg x tissaia de vries (the witcher)

cirilla of cintra x emhyr (the witcher)

jj x aaron hotchner (criminal minds)

jj x emily prentiss

alicia clark x victor strand (fear the walking dead)

beth greene x daryl dixon (the walking dead)

tris prior x jeanine matthews (divergent)

katniss everdeen x alma coin (hunger games)

bella swan x aro volturi (twilight)

abigail hobbs x will graham (hannibal)

emma swan x regina mills (ouat)

hermione granger x severus snape hermione x lucius malfoy (harry potter)

sam winchester x chuck shurley (supernatural)

sam winchester x dean winchester

sabrina spellman x lucifer (chilling adventures of sabrina)

sabrina spellman x chuck shurley

female oc x albert shaw (the black phone)

clara oswald x 10/12/13th doctor (doctor who)

padme obidala x obi-wan kenobi (star wars)

harley quinn x batfleck (dc)

wanda maximoff x stephen strange (marvel)

kate bishop x clint barton

peter parker x quentin beck

natasha romanoff x bruce banner

carol danvers x yon-rogg

irene adler (megan fox fc) x sherlock holmes

female oc x john watson (bbc sherlock)

daenerys targaryen x jorah mormont (got)

sansa stark x brienne of tarth

daenerys targaryen x thranduil/or elrond (got x lotr crossover)

alison cameron/female oc x dr. house/dr. wilson (house md)

i have more but this is getting long lol. i don’t do doubles. i love smut but am looking for smut with plot and a bit of angst. i prefer to write bratty / power bottoms. i’m a novella writer (around 3-5 paras at a min.) and a slow replier, sometimes i get 3-5 replies a week, sometimes 1 or none for a few days, i'm looking for someone who is patient as i am very chill with reply pace.

will ask for a writing sample as well as i want to make sure i’m finding the right partners. pls like this and i’ll reach out ❤️

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girlwithwolftatoo · 2 years

Text

The devil and the flower -chapter 8

Violets have no thorns

Warning: torture, death

Words: 3346

Suddenly, the town was abuzz with gossip as the local newspaper revived its former glory, some were sympathetic, lamenting the misfortune that seemed to befall that shattered family, others were discussing theories each one more insane, and when they least expected it, they were already pointing the finger of blame, the victim herself included among some who boasted of being reasonable.

And in the midst of that chaos, a little girl who had suffered the two most important losses at an early age, dreamed of the strange man with the black balloons, who reached out his hand and took the hand of a person who walked, their face covered with a thick red veil, beside him down the street.

Gwen Blake was sure that the Grabber had made a mistake, or perhaps, since his last hit, he had changed his tactics to mislead. After all, what other motive would a monster like that have for disappearing a young girl?

She, of course, didn't discuss her doubts with anyone, and on the other hand, she heard a lot of rumors wherever she went. It wasn't that the town cared about the safety of one girl more than that of its children, it was because it was young Gilles, the daughter of the murderess.

"Maybe she's gone" opined a man in line at the mini supermarket "I wouldn't put up with living in a town where everyone's talking about me."

"You think so? She couldn't have left alone, for God's sake... maybe a friend helped her".

"Yeah, sure, they say she spent her afternoons with boys..."

"What would you expect from that poor girl?"

Things escalated from one day to the next, an anonymous source (Rutheford, the only one who had shown concern from the start) told the police how, on the night she disappeared, Violet was being harassed by a boy named Edward Preston.

Edward received a visit from the police, and later, Mrs. Betsy received a call.

"We have a possible suspect in your granddaughter's disappearance," the detective explained.

"Don't say, and do you need me to identify him?"

"No, that won't be necessary, he's being questioned right now -"

"Then carry on, and please don't call me unless it's for something really important, good afternoon."

At the police station they weren't sure what to think of the boy, he had no record in town but he did have a couple of brawls in California, and what was more, he was proven to have consumed more than alcohol the night Violet Gilles disappeared; but on the other hand, Edward insisted on his innocence.

"I told you I didn't do anything to that bitch!" he bellowed after being locked up for over two hours "Hey you can't do this to me, I had nothing to do with that girl, I don't even know her!"

"We have witnesses that you chased her, that you harassed her" replied the detective.

"No!" but Edward's voice betrayed guilt, and he finally agreed, when on another side of town, Violet was being returned to the basement with the threat of whipping.

Edward Preston was not prosecuted at the time, but doubt was sown and by Thursday morning, everyone was talking about him being a suspect.

"I'm sick of this shit!" shouted the boy near the soda fountain "I've been explaining a thousand times to those assholes that I only hit her, and that was enough for them to let me have a warrant for my arrest if I try to leave here."

"Why do they care so much?" commented a friend of his, who was drinking a can of beer camouflaged by a paper bag "I hear her grandmother is still doing her thing without mentioning anything about her"

"Has it crossed your minds that the Grabber might have taken her?" hinted another "I mean, maybe he mistook her for a boy, with that hair and that face..."

"Well I wish he had" Edward spat "I wish he took her and tore her to pieces, I'm not going to have my life ruined by some stupid bitch."

The three continued with less sinister chatter as, in the establishment next door, the door was slowly closed by the hand of a worker.

In other circumstances, Edward would have taken advantage of the weekend to have some fun, go out and play a little basketball and let the girls admire him, but with so many fingers pointing at his back he preferred to retire early, when it was just starting to get dark. He hadn't gone past two or three blocks when a black pickup truck pulled up next to him, making him jump.

"What the fuck...?"

A man stretched outside the window, grinning at him.

"I'm sorry, did I scare you? I didn't mean to" Edward however looked at him suspiciously "Hey..." the man's smile faltered, he seemed suddenly unsure "You look kind of worried."

"And what's it to you?" the boy jumped.

"Well, if that's the case I think you should..." the man stretched out a hand, showing him something he held in his palm. Edward couldn't contain his curiosity and walked over, in a tiny plastic bag were five or six pills "relax".

A sudden offer, but tempting, certainly the boy had not slept well.

"What do you intend?" he asked, glaring at the van driver.

"A deal. If you're interested I can sell you one for...ten bucks, how about it?"

"Is that all?"

"I have... other stuff, but not here, I can't carry that many products, it would be weird" the man laughed "Anyway, if you don't want it's okay -" he had already started to reach in when Edward approached him.

"Wait..." he reached into his pocket, he found only six dollars "What can you give me for this?"

"Oops..." the man clicked his tongue, as if disappointed "A little weed, maybe half an ounce, the problem is I don't have it here... unless" he quickly added "you don't mind joining me, I have everything in a house next to the dam, no one ever goes by there and so I don't have to worry if the police come to my house."

The boy's mind was swift and cruel, he could take him up on his offer, yes, accompany him, see exactly where the house was and... then ransack it. Served him right for being naive enough to say that to a stranger.

"Okay... hey" he added quickly "I don't want any tricks."

"Too bad, they're my specialty" the man pointed to the sliding door of the van, there was a printout there that read "Abracadabra, magic supplements". Edward let out a sarcastic snort, and agreed to climb in as co-pilot; his stupid dealer was a middle-aged man, he wore a polo shirt that read something from a hardware store, and generally looked a bit silly. On the dashboard he carried some delicate flowers wrapped in crepe paper, the boy raised an eyebrow, apparently the loser had a wife.

"What's your name, kid?" the driver asked as they pulled into the long street that led to the dam bridge.

"Everett" he lied, hoping he wouldn't recognize him.

"Nice to meet you, Everett" replied the man with a faint smile "What awful days these have been, haven't they? I feel like it's getting colder every year in the fall, and the rain last night... ugh!"

"It's a shitty town."

"Yes...a shitty town...they let their most beautiful flowers wilt before their time..." his fingers brushed the petals of one of the roses in the little gift "Have you noticed, Everett? Roses and violets are the most given flowers in the whole world, but only roses have thorns, and florists must pluck them so they won't hurt."

The van stopped near the bridge, and the man pointed to an old house that had in its front yard all kinds of weeds that had even eaten away the "For Sale" sign.

"Is this it, do you mind waiting outside?" he asked Edward as they both got out of the car.

"I really wouldn't want to be in sight for too long" replied the boy.

"Yes, yes, I understand...I won't be long, I promise."

"How about if I walk you at least as far as the garden?"

The dealer agreed, resigned, visibly interested in not losing his sale. The two walked to the gate, and the man put his hands on the timbers before laughing.

"Wow! This is something new!"

"What's the matter?" spat Edward, nervously.

"Look at that!" the man pointed to something among the weeds "It's...I'm not sure, a possum, I think...it's giving birth!" and laughed again.

Edward moved closer, not because he was interested in the possum or whatever, but to demand that his fastidious companion give him what he promised, however, a second later he fell dazed to the ground when something hit him on the right side of the face with all its might, a huge body jumped on him and wrapped an arm around his neck, rendering him helpless in a matter of seconds, and then Edward Preston collapsed and lay limp on the pavement.

The supposed dealer hurried him into the back of his van, and drove over the bridge, looking longingly at the wooden railing that protected cars and pedestrians from falling over the edge; he drove and drove into the grove of trees surrounding the dam, until the lights of the town could no longer reach him. He yanked Edward, who was navigating between lucidity and unconsciousness, and threw him face down next to a tree and immediately tied his hands behind his back.

"Hey..." heard the boy in that gloom that was only fought by a flashlight "Are you awake? That's good... One thing I can't stand is lies, they... put me in a bad mood, do you understand, Edward Preston?"

The voice sounded somewhat hollow, but the boy almost returned to normal when he heard his name. The figure above him squinted, and he could see that he was wearing some sort of mask.

"Who... who are you?" he stammered.

"Violets don't have thorns, Edward, they can't defend themselves, when the florist sees them, he just cuts them off, zap!" something glowed next to the boy's face as the masked man waved his hand sharply in front of him "Poor things, it's unfair, don't you think? But fortunately..." he leaned in, now Edward could make out the mask, a horned face with a cruelly twisted mouth "I'm here to protect them"

The piercing scream was lost in the forest as a knife plunged into his crotch. The weapon went in and out several times, into his arms and legs, as if its intention was not to kill him but to wound him, to torture him until he bled to death.

"I should cut off your hands for what you did" growled the masked man angrily "and leave you here for the vermin to eat your remains, but I think it will be better if..." and he turned him face down again, sitting over his kidneys. Strong hands took hold of one of his fingers and squeezed it hard, twisting it, until it snapped.

"Stop it!" Edward pleaded as he felt his torturer take another finger "Stop it, please, I beg you!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and a second finger snapped off under the man's iron strength. The pleasure was indescribable, insane, almost as delicious as it was to slit the throats of his precious toys after leaving them crawling on the floor, weeping, weak... it was all their fault, it was Edward's fault, he had been more than a naughty boy.

Violet felt the brush of a large, crooked finger on her cheek and woke up, startled. Albert was right next to the mattress, and retracted his hand as the young woman snuggled against the wall.

"What do you want?" she asked sharply. That annoyed him a little, and he showed her what he had brought with him: a blanket and pillow, which Violet took slowly, looking into his eyes "Thank you, I was freezing to death."

It was true, he thought, the basement was freezing as soon as autumn started, and besides the dress didn't look very warm, he could tell by the bulge the hardened nipples made under the garment.

"Violet, if I were to let you out of the cellar for a while..." murmured Albert, and the young woman's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Get out?" she repeated "What for?"

"It's just an idea I had. But I don't want you...to think you can leave whenever you want, I was thinking more like...you were up there...with me..."

Considering all he was and could do, it was surprising how eager he sounded with those words, Violet almost thought she saw a slight blush behind the smiling half mask.

"What do you intend?" she asked "Have you decided what you're going to do with me yet?"

The last thing she expected was a straight answer, but the man's eyes bore into her face and then, he mumbled:

"Yes."

Violet's hands latched onto the blanket.

"And... will you tell me?" she kept her voice as serene as she could. Albert narrowed his eyes.

"You told me you never saw your mother again" he said suddenly "You were left alone as a child. I... well, I was left very soon without my mother too, and my father..." he shrugged "I think the best thing he ever did for me was to die. That loneliness suited me much better... for a while."

"And... didn't you have any other family? Uncles, perhaps?" ventured Violet. Albert shook his head and suddenly stood up.

"Tomorrow I'll come for you and you'll get out of the cellar, but if you scream, or try to escape or try anything, I'll cut your ankles off."

After that warning, Albert left the cellar, and Violet huddled between the blankets, nervous.

The next morning the Prestons were shouting angrily to the police, demanding to know the whereabouts of their son, and Gwen Blake woke up after a horrendous nightmare of a man in a top hat chopping something to pieces in the middle of the woods, but for Albert it was the perfect day, the sun was warming the gloomy autumnal atmosphere a little, he didn't have to go to the hardware store, and he shopped with a huge smile, accompanied by Sampson who waited outside, tied up and muzzled to the horror of passers-by. When he returned, he listened to the radio as he dusted off a recipe book and entertained himself with great pleasure as he chopped and cooked the ingredients.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

The cellar door opened at dusk; Violet, curled up on the mattress, sat up with a start, still in disbelief. Albert was wearing the top half of the mask again, and looked a little more dressed up than usual, with a satiny black shirt and underneath, a curious deep red turtleneck.

"You didn't think I'd come, did you?" he asked, tilting his head. Violet didn't answer, sitting up. With a sigh, the man approached, holding out a hand "You needn't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you, as long as you behave as you should."

No shouting, no running away, these were simple rules and ones she was willing to follow even though she was still wary that something bad was going to happen. But she let herself be led, like cattle to the slaughter, up the stairs she had climbed only once.

"How's your ankle still doing?" she heard him ask her. Violet looked down at her feet, not paying much attention to its condition lately, perhaps more concerned with the wounds inflicted by her captor.

"Better, I think."

They entered the kitchen, which was already familiar to her, accompanied by someone's crooning on an old record player. In the middle of the kitchen, a square folding table had been set up, and on it, there were two plates of food and two glasses with water. Violet looked now at Albert, now at the table, if it was a trap, he had gone to a lot of trouble to make it.

"Sit down" he instructed, leading her to one of the chairs. The plate was overflowing with pasta with ground beef and cheese, and Violet couldn't help but notice that, unlike Albert, she had a plastic fork.

Albert sat down across from her and cleared his throat to get her attention.

"I hope you like it..." he murmured, poking at his own food "I haven't made Italian pasta since... well..."

Violet stirred the pasta with her ridiculous fork, and looked sideways at him.

"What's in it?" she asked.

"Well... pasta, tomato sauce, mozzarella..."

"Anything else?"

Albert set his fork down on the plate, again looking at her squarely and his voice deepened.

"If you think it has drugs or poison in it, you're very wrong. I don't need that to keep you here, in fact..." he lifted his fork, the tomato sauce on the prongs was very evocative "I think you're not stupid enough to try to elope."

Albert kept looking at her, she suspected he wouldn't stop until she took at least one bite and, resigned, she did. She chewed slowly, the flavors mingling in her mouth were quite delicious, the first proper meal she'd had in, what, five days?

"It's tasty" she confirmed, and took another bite. Whether it had poison in it or not, her stomach was begging for food, and she found herself hurriedly dispatching her dinner.

Albert reached a hand behind his back, toward the dishwasher, then held out something wrapped in crepe paper. The girl found herself with a sprig that must have had no more than seven or eight flowers in all, some roses but mostly vivid blue blossoms that she recognized at once.

Violets.

The hand holding the bouquet trembled slightly, Albert didn't seem to know which way to look and his lips were pressed together in a rictus of tension.

"They're... for you" he stammered "It's for... well... things haven't turned out the way they should..."

Her mother had always told her that, as a little girl, she dressed her in all the blues she could get her hands on, little light blue dresses to palliate the summer heat, blue striped overalls though her father thought they were too masculine, an indigo hat decorated with a fake blade of wheat. She really was Violet-as-the-flowers... and she thought of the boy who had named her that, and horror settled in her breast again.

"Why am I here?" she asked, pressing herself against the back of the chair, as if she could thus keep a safe distance from the man "What do you want from me?"

Slowly, Albert set the bouquet down on the table, his fists were clenched nervously, and Violet began to regret asking him that question.

"It's hard to explain" he finally blurted out "If I could tell you..."

He brought both hands to his head, tugging at his hair. It was so disconcerting to see it break so easily, those cruel hands that tortured and murdered innocents now doing the same to their owner, and Violet noticed that he seemed to want to dig his nails into his scalp.

Suddenly, he sat up so abruptly that Violet jumped, startled. Albert took her by the arm and, without another word to her, led her back to the basement without her having finished dinner, until he pushed her against the mattress.

"Why?" exclaimed Albert to the girl's bewilderment "Why did I have to...find you...?"

He turned and walked out of the basement, whimpering as he continued to pull his hair. The thud of the door closing drowned out his crying after he returned to the kitchen, where he sat still, caressing the flowers and humming along to the music on the record player.

#the black phone #the black phone fanfiction #the grabber #albert shaw #the grabber x oc #albert shaw x reader #the grabber fanfiction #ethan hawke #blumhouse

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ikea-employee · 2 years

Text

Hello lovelies!

Thats right… I’m back!!

Over this hiatus I’ve joined lots of new fandoms and lost interest in quite a few as well.. Nonetheless, new and improved pinned post!

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

For all of the new visitors… Hello and welcome!

I’m Nyx, I’m 19, I use any pronouns, I’m an ENFP and I’m here to cater to all of your fandom needs!

On a side note; roleplay on my blog is allowed, as well as just sending me friendly asks! (I’ll make a list of taken anon names & characters if any occur)

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What I write

Matchups (Closed)

You can ask on anon!! Just know that I am trusting you are not a minor.

Be as detailed as you want! The more detailed the matchup is = easier it is for me to match you with someone! (If you give me a character you want for a matchup, I'm just going to give you them. No surprises there)

I will do matchups for ocs! Same rules apply!

Stuff to add to your matchup: Appearance, personality, hobbies, likes, dislikes, love language. Please add what fandom you want and preferred gender! I don't want to write a matchup you won't enjoy!

Headcanons (Closed)

You can ask on anon!! Just make sure to check what I don't write for!!

I'll write for any gender reader, any sexuality, canon ships, ocs × character(s), s/o x character(s), non-problematic ships, and for singular characters.

Be as detailed as you want with your headcanons, that way I understand what you want easier!

You can ask for as many characters you want with your given scenario! All I ask is that you keep it to four characters maximum! (If I like your prompt or find it easy, I might add more!)

I will write headcanons for you and the character you get from a matchup, just ask and you shall receive!

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Fandoms & Characters I Write For

If a character isn’t on my list, just ask! I won’t bite!

Dead By Daylight

Killers

Killer Masterlist

Albert Wesker / Mastermind

Artist

Demogorgon*

Doctor

Dredge*

Ghostface

Hillbilly

Huntress

Knight

Legion (Only Frank & Julie can be matched and written NSFW)

Micheal Myers / Shape

Nurse

Oni

Pig

Pyramid Head / Executioner

Spirit

Trapper

Trickster

Wraith

Survivors

Survivor Masterlist

Ada Wong

Cheryl Mason

Claudette Morel

Chris Redfield

David King (only matched with guys)

Dwight Fairfield

Élodie Rakoto

Feng Min

Haddie Kaur

Jake Park

Jill Valentine

Jane Romero

Kate Denson

Laurie Strode

Leon Kennedy

Meg Thomas

Mikaela Reid

Nancy Wheeler

Steve Harrington

Vittorio Toscano

Yui Kimura

Yun-Jin Lee

Destiny 2

Destiny 2 Masterlist

Ada-1

Amanda Holiday

Banshee-44

Caiatl

Cayde-6

Drifter

Eris Morn

Elsie

Ikora Rey

Lord Shaxx

Mara Sov

Osiris*

Saint-14*

Shaw Han

Crow

Uldren Sov

Zavala

Stranger Things

Stranger Things Masterlist

Alexei

Billy Hargrove

Dustin Henderson

Eddie Munson

Jane Hopper “Eleven”

Lucas Sinclair

Max Mayfield

Mike Wheeler

Nancy Wheeler

001 / Peter Ballard

Robin Buckley

Steve Harrington

Will Byers

Misc.

Misc. Masterlist

Bruce Wayne (Batman 2022)

Edward Nashton (Batman 2022)

Hannibal Lecter (Hannibal Tv Series)

Will Graham (Hannibal Tv Series)

Any character with an asterisk will not be put in matchups

Any characters who are bolded will not be put in matchups or written NSFW

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My OCs

Masterlist

Feel free to ask about them!

Zephyr

Evil lettol guy

I made him in 7th grade, I just keep updating him.

Tag: OC: Zeph

Sabbath

Kind of my sona

Idk what inspired him

Tag: OC: Sabbath

Syn

Destiny Awoken Warlock OC

Solar

Tag: OC: Syn

Curse-4

Destiny Exo Hunter OC

Stasis

Tag: OC: Curse-4

Foxx

Destiny Awoken Titan OC

???? (Switches constantly)

Tag: OC: Foxx

Kit “Kitty” Archer

DbD & Stranger Things OC

I love her <3

Tag: OC: Kitty

Asher “Ash” Montgomery

I also made him in 7th grade… (Remade him and hes better now)

DbD & Stranger Things OC

Tag: OC: Ash

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Rules

DNI

DNI if you are underaged, a proshipper, TERF, trump supporter, anti-abortionist, transphobic, pedophile, homophobic, or racist.

Will not Write

I will not write about anything racist, homophobic, transphobic, or pedophelic. I also don’t feel comfortable writing about child abuse, animal abuse, or suicide.

NSFW Writing

I am willing to write nsfw requests as long as the character requested is not a minor and the kinks involved are not bathroom related.

Enjoy your Stay!

- Nyx

#hihihiii #new pinned post #new intro #nyx info #dead by daylight headcanons #dbd headcanons #dbd matchups #stranger things headcanons #stranger things matchups #destiny 2 headcanons #destiny 2 matchups #d2 headcanons #d2 matchups #>:)

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