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girlwithwolftatoo · 2 years

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The devil and the flower -chapter 1

Pairing: The Grabber/Original character

Summary: One week before her eighteenth birthday, Violet wakes up in a dark basement underground.

Warnings: Physical violence, cursing, underage smoking and drinking.

Town of idiots. Town of asses. That was Galesburg and no one could make her think otherwise. The adults were the worst, because they lived waving the flag of morality and good manners, but in the secrecy of their homes, they were just as disgusting or maybe worse. They lied, drank until they got drunk, beat their wives and children, and then knelt in church.

Youngsters were divided into imbeciles-in-training, of which there were many, and black sheep, of which there were few, and she was in the latter group. She knew that her appearance alone scandalized, even if she wasn't the only one wearing a worn leather jacket, or torn stockings, or spiked chokers, the thing was that she was almost the only one who wore all that at the same time, and wore it with pride, as if it were her armor to fight day by day against the others, her equals, and her supposed superiors.

She recalled, with a vague smile, the last fight she was involved in the previous semester at Galesburg High School. She didn't like to come to blows unless there was no choice, and that time it was indeed necessary, because Rachel Brie deserved it.

Rachel's chubby face, framed in her outrageous blonde perm, popped into his mind.

"Step aside, psycho," she told her in the locker room after a dodgeball practice. Violet looked at her with disinterest and continued about her business, calmly untying her sneakers, the sweat had smeared her makeup a bit but she didn't care, in fact the worse she looked the better, that's how she terrorized Christians, in the words of her grandmother.

"Didn't you hear me?" insisted Rachel. Again, she ignored her. She knew why she was upset now, the grandiose wannabe cheerleader had taken a ball from her, no malice intended, though deep down Violet enjoyed it, she knew well it was within the rules. "I don't know why they let insane people like you be here" she spat, intending to anger her, Violet however struggled not to fall for her game " Do you know what Pastor Holland says? That women who wear fishnet stockings are the devil's prostitutes."

Violet didn't even look at her, carefully stowing her slippers in the locker. Rachel snorted.

"But I imagine you already knew that, because your mother is, too."

She felt her fists clench. She closed her eyes, she wasn't to fall for provocations.

"You know that, Blasie?" called Rachel to one of her friends "Murderers are possessed by the devil, and at night they roll around with him for protection."

Laughter. Some played along, Blasie among them.

"The children of murderers will burn in hell too" assured the brunette.

"So..." Rachel leaned against the adjoining locker, smiling "You're thinking of killing someone too?"

Her hand was faster, but her mind was screaming too, whipping it around. Her fist went straight for Rachel's nose, and the blonde staggered, stumbling as she hit one of the benches. Violet didn't stop and jumped on her, slapping her with all her might.

"I'll send you to hell!" she exclaimed. Rachel managed to grab her by the shoulders, her hair was a useless weapon because Violet wore it extremely short, and struggled to hit her back.

"Get off me, bitch!" the blonde shrieked, and they both rolled on the floor to the screams of the others.

Sure enough, Violet ended up with her rival in the headmaster's room. Both wore the aftermath of their fight, but by far, Rachel was worse. They received the stern scolding and threat of suspension, Violet with an extra warning that, if she continued like this, she would be expelled.

"You may go, Miss Brie," requested the principal. Beside him, a slender, well-dressed woman of color watched, with indulgent eyes, the remaining student "Miss Gilles, I don't think it is necessary to continue having these conversations with you, your grades are good, but your behavior is unforgivable, your stay in this school is at risk, do you understand?"

Violet didn't want to look at either of them. The principal was doing his stern job, she knew it, the psychologist had made the attempt for months to help her, but it had not worked, in fact, with each visit she felt she was getting worse, little by little their voices became an echo behind a dense fog.

It was the eve of her eighteenth birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it properly. She'd been saving up all vacation, and finally, that afternoon, she would get what she wanted. She sat down in the little tattoo and piercing shop that hadn't even been in town for two years, and smiled at the girl who was already setting everything up on her little table, whose arms were full of tattoos, most of them black, some colored, indecipherable in their perfect baroque harmony.

"And did you bring the permit?" she asked. Violet held out a sheet, and the girl looked it up and down "Okay, I'll take this one, are you ready?"

Violet lay on her stomach, her back uncovered. She had heard that tattoos in that area hurt, and they did, but she felt a certain pleasure as the needles penetrated the skin, as if they were outlining her body with alcohol and then setting it on fire. Occasionally she would let out a groan, but with one hand she would signal the twenty year old to continue, the physical pain was her favorite, because it was momentary, it was controllable.

She had to use two mirrors to be able to look at the result, and in doing so, she smiled. An apple about two inches in diameter, whose beautiful surface was disfigured by the face of a skull.

"Listen, you'll have to be careful not to cover it with anything tight" the girl explained to her, writing the instructions on a piece of paper "You must wash it well a couple of times a day, don't lie on your back for a couple of weeks..."

She returned home with a sense of triumph, there where she wore the tattoo, no one at school could see it, and as for her grandmother... she couldn't care less what that decrepit old hag had to say to her. They had survived each other for two years by pretending they only shared the same roof and not the same blood, and it was better to keep it that way.

Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me

Anyone else but me, anyone else but me

No, no!

Just remember that I’ve been true to nobody else but you…

The old woman's senses were still quite sharp, and although Violet tried to close the door carefully, she heard her greet with her characteristic acidity from the kitchen:

"You're here at last, I was already dreading that you'd decided to take off with your friends."

"I'll be out for the evening, Mrs. Betsy."

She called her "Mrs. Betsy" because, for the past two years, she had not allowed her to call her " Grandma".

"And where will you be?"

"With the Rutherfords."

There was a sort of chuckle.

"I'll call about nine o'clock to be sure. I don't want to know you're in an alley smoking crap."

"You know me, Mrs. Betsy..." replied Violet, sarcastically, and went into her bedroom.

As night fell, Violet slipped down the hallway. She didn't make it to the foyer, however, because the old woman's voice cut her off.

"I want to see you" she demanded.

Violet rolled her eyes, turning around. The woman had the television on, watching one of those quiz shows that fascinated people her age, but she was standing there, judging her as always. The girl tried to keep her face hieratic, the last thing she wanted was to give her a reason to punish her.

Mistress Betsy clicked her tongue.

"Thank goodness you have the tact not to go to church like that" she commented "You look like a delinquent."

"I promise not to mug anyone on the way" Violet spat, smiling at her with contempt. She wasn't sorry to be like that, the hatred they had for each other was mutual.

"I guess I came too late to educate you" the old woman continued "I couldn't expect anything else from the daughter of... a woman like your mother."

Again, the stinging in her fists warned her of what was coming. She couldn't hit her, it would be her undoing, she was almost an adult now, in a week's time cops could put her away for who knows how many years in prison.

"I'll be back around eleven" was all she said, turning her back on her and walking out with a slam of the door. Yes, in a week she would also be looking for a way to get rid of the old woman and her venomous words and her watery, disgusting eyes, if some force in heaven or hell would take pity on her.

Knocking on the door, she was greeted by the honest smile of April, one of her few friends. Inside, Sex Pistols music enlivened the evening.

"I thought you weren't coming again," she greeted her.

"I guess the less time I spend at home, the better for the old lady" Violet replied.

The Rutherfords had a rather large house, a product of settling near the bridge over the town dam. Of course, the adults were not there, they were out for the weekend, and the young people gathered there for a moment of recreation where the police could not disturb them; Violet saw familiar faces, some who also passed through the tattoo store, and some older ones she had only seen in passing, chatting, laughing, bobbing their heads to the music and of course, smoking and drinking.

"So you're Violet" introduced a guy who was already in his twenties, combed with the fluffiest bangs he'd ever seen "They say you gave George Wayne a beating last winter."

"I wouldn't call it a beating, I just left his nuts ready for a pie" she replied. The boy laughed.

"I'm Edward."

Nine o'clock passed, and the phone did not ring once. There was already a whole collection of cans in the room, and a dense cloud of smoke that made the chandelier light on the ceiling look almost ghostly. Now, the few conversationalists were talking about the same thing, and Violet followed them silently, cigarette in hand and curled up in one of the armchairs.

"...I heard that he appears only when you say his name."

"What nonsense is that? That only happens in the movies."

"I heard the last one was taken away in broad daylight, no one saw anything."

"He's not a ghost to do that."

"But no one knows anything...isn't that awful?"

Violet took a deep drag on her cigarette. Edward approached, offering her a rolled-up piece of paper that smelled of horrors, and she waved it away. It made sense that this group of young people would talk about the subject so lightly, none of them were relatives of the victims, none of them were part of the narrow age range of the missing....

Because that town of idiots had something worse. A murderer. A Grabber, as they called him.

"When I heard about Vance, I couldn't believe it" commented one girl, who drank can after can like it was plain water "He always won in fights, how could he take him?"

Violet ducked her head. She hadn't had that much to drink, but she felt suddenly dizzy, and left the house in search of fresh air. She sat on the stairs, looking at the shy street lights, and the black sky above her. She knew the names of those children too, she had seen their faces on the "Missing" signs, none of them had returned so far, and, funny thing, the disappearances started just two years before....

"Hey..." Edward appeared behind her, smiling awkwardly. He was still holding a small piece of joint in his hand next to a can of beer "Come back inside, it's cold."

"I want to be here for a while... alone" she added as she sensed the boy moving closer. She heard him laugh.

"How old are you?" he asked, ignoring her warning, plopping down next to Violet. "Hey, and... is it true what they say?"

"About what?" snorted the girl, exasperated. She expected anything at this point, Galesburg and his bastards would never leave her alone, and so she longed to run away, run as far away as possible....

"That you go out with the boys at night... and graffiti in the shopping area."

She closed her eyes, deep down she was relieved that it was silly like that.

"It was only once...and I really don't even remember if I helped them or not."

"They say you're the wildest girl in high school."

"No, that's April, if you got to know her better you'd realize that."

"I'm not interested in getting to know her, she's a passed."

"Passed?" Violet raised an eyebrow. She had never heard that expression "What do you mean?"

"You know" Edward widened his smile "It means she..." he made an odd gesture with his head, as if he was looking for Violet to say it instead of him "Well, if you don't get it, it means you're not like her"

"Hey, if you're not going to speak up-"

"Well, well, I'm sorry... I mean... you're a virgin still, aren't you?"

Violet's eyes turned wide open. Then a sneer of disgust appeared on her face.

"Is that all you guys care about?" she blurted out, standing up.

"Wait, wait..." Edward put a hand on her shoulder, and Violet slapped him.

"Go to hell, will you?" and she started walking. It had been too much of a party already, she didn't even want to say goodbye to April, her bad mood had returned.

Again, Edward grabbed her, this time harder, forcing her to turn on her heels. He didn't manage to utter a word, because Violet gave him a hard stomp and, as he bent over in pain, kicked him in the crotch. It had been too much, she thought in a moment of sobriety, and without much thought she started walking as fast as she could.

"You fucking bitch!" she heard Edward yell. She turned her head and saw that, despite the pain, the boy was running after her. Violet tightened her pace, throwing herself into the half-darkness of the bridge. She wasn't thinking anything at the moment, she was going so fast that she felt her feet wobbling from time to time, and when she glimpsed a few meters away the small tunnel that, for reasons unknown to everyone, devoured a part of the bridge, she imagined she could take advantage of it to become invisible, hide behind it or something, and then... then she would think about how to get back home.

Once again she stumbled, but this time a sharp, horrible pain sent her rolling across the floor. She noticed her right ankle buckling so hard that she fell, and with great difficulty she sat up enough, whimpering in pain. Then her stalker caught up with her and pushed her back to the ground. Violet felt the stabbing pain again, this time in her face, and feared he had broken her nose.

"You think you're the big deal, bitch?" growled Edward, shoving her with his foot so that she rolled onto her back. Emboldened with the substances in his body, he mounted her and punched her. Violet barely felt the blow, dazed as she was, and only heard him continue to insult her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her violently.

But as quickly as it started, the attack stopped. She no longer felt Edward's weight on her, the world was a darkness barely stung by pale lights. She thought she heard the tires of a slowing car, and the light grew brighter. She coughed, spitting blood, and murmured into the void that was growing deeper and deeper around her:

"Please... help..."

Lights flickered like friendly winks, something approached, indistinguishable, and Violet rolled her eyes, squinting in a poor attempt to see what it was. She imagined her appearance was deplorable, the taste of blood in her mouth told her so, and with her attire, could she possibly be mistaken for a streetwalker? She cursed her grandmother in her mind, thinking of how, upon seeing her, she would tell her with a certain pride that she already expected her to end up like that, beaten in the middle of a road.

The world stopped making sense, the lights went out, the cold became dim, and Violet closed her eyes, sinking into unconsciousness.

#the black phone #the black phone movie #the black phone fanfiction #the grabber #the grabber x oc #the grabber x reader #the grabber fanfiction #ethan hawke

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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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hefeydonmyrauthatiliharkonnen · 2 years

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Who else literally can’t go a single day without thinking about Al doing something creepy as hell to their oc/self insert 👀

#the grabber x oc

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myers-meadow · 2 years

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Opening requests for Grabber & RZ Michael Myers 💟🥰

After thinking about it a long time, and having so many thoughts in my brain for these characters; I'm opening requests for The Grabber from The Black Phone, and for RZ Michael Myers 💕

Writing has been really treating me well lately and I want to share that love and joy, so send me thoughts, thirst or requests!!

Open for fluff and smut and angst and anything ^^

I will fill them mostly with short drabble-style fics or headcanons (specify which if you have a preference!). You can just send anything, I'll see whether I'm comfortable with writing them when I get them. It may take a while for me to get it done, depending on how many send in! :) I only ask that you respect me and my time, but I think that goes without saying.

No need to feel shy btw! Anon is on and I don't judge :)) You'll really be indulging me in my desire to discuss and write and share feels about them.

Thank you for reading, I hope we can all enjoy these amazing characters together! 🥰

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dancingisdangerouss · 2 years

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smile-in-the-dark · 2 years

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He’d have me on a silver platter.

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

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morganasmissus · 2 years

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yeah maybe i did get home from seeing black phone only to immediately create an oc who is Robin’s sister because i am way too much of a baby to ever be in a horror movie- so what???

#the black phone #black phone #finney blake #finney #robin arellano #finney x robin #oc #The Grabber #Ethan Hawke #i'm scared of horror movies okay #idek why i went to see this one #but it was sO worth it

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soaricarus · 7 months

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DEAR VOIDS SLUGCAT DESIGNS HERE WE GO.

also this nightcat is seperate from my invterator askblog nightcat. for clarification

id honestly consider the cut arena scug 4 an oc at this point. it deviates so much from the One sprite we get. oops

seperates + Not So Line Lineup under cut AS WELL AS DESIGN NOTES woooh boy. MIND YOU its really long

the Not So Line Lineup

survivor! scar on snout is based on one of the cut arena sprites for player 1, it has a little.. scar? notch? line? there. survivor passage symbol on head as well and freckles :) some brown to match monk sorta. spikey fur!

^ what the scar is based on

overall more rounded than survivor, to reference the monk passage symbol which is also on their head. a little dewlap to reference gourmand - i think gourmand and survivor and monk are related. lighter yellows to reference survivor!

third sibling!!! the little orange line on their head is actually karma 7 (i realized survivor is karma 5 and monk is karma 6- so why not go with the theme?) and a sorta partial saint symbol on their head, missing the middle line. yellow/red accenting color to reference monk and survivor sorta. blu :)

sorta pinker. based on one of my old draft designs, just made a little better. green accent color to match sig. a little fluffy and sharp. ear tufts cause theyre fun and a tufted tail. hunter passage symbol is also on tail teehee. sig's head symbol is also on hunter. the scar is also green

nightcat is some sorta weird echo thing. to me. little wings for the fun of it. i dont have much on this design honestly other than i used dodge A Lot. the accenting pink on the dark purple parts was originally an accident but like? it vibes.

wanderer! cause actually why not. the white symbol on their chest is a half of sig's symbol, i'd like to think sig helped suns make wanderer. if you put its head symbol together with nightcat it makes the scholar :) blue accenting color is close to the negative/opposite colors of nightcat.

i dont have many notes for this biggol guy. sorta looks alike survivor and monk i suppose. feathers! theyre sorta rose colored i think. idk. it looks nice. simple patterns cause gourmand is a symbol guy

artiiii. i wanted to put an accent color on arti but it was so Hard because i was Stubborn and Needed That Damn Cyan on it. markings based on a siamese cat except for the ones on the arm and legs, theyre sort of tabby based?

green pup is tabby based in markings, pink sorta looks like flower petals. blue pup is siamese cat based in markings and the yellow? idk it looked nice

RIVULETTT. i love rivulet. i made the bright sunset gradient contrast by adding some darker but still vibrant blues and purples to the design, as well as a cream. there's also actual gills udner the display frills (which also got a color update to match instead of being an offbrand bi flag). also webbed fingers!!!

vibrant fuckin purple because it looks nice actually. made it have some cream-pink-purple thing as underbelly instead to make it look nicer. head markings are based directly on suns :) biggol Orb Eyes to Stare In Your Soul. accenting colors sorta match rivulet? idk? they just look nice without contrasting too much. also whiskers. and tall. and thin with long ass grabbers

i kept getting "portal colors" and "aroace flag" and like YEA YALL ARE RIGHT ACTUALLY i just wanted to fit blue and orange on it though lmao. anyway pretty simple body markings to make up for the Six Fucking Accent Colors. three forehead dots are yellow while there's an x on its back and head thats blue... to imitate the rot :) why? figure it out yourself

inv!! not much has changed since honestly i just saturated the colors a bit more i think. idk. i like the yellow on inv though so i make it more prominent sorta? just a guy. still an iterator that turned itself into a slugcat. to me.

originally based on this cut arena slugcat

then i uh. accent color and scales and um. um. im so normal about this slugcat holyshit curveberry my beloved.... anyway the scales were originally a dark teal? then i hueshifted them and Oh Fuck Dusk Colors Holy Shit. its so good i genuinely love this design so much i doodled it lmao. the scales are based on a pangolin. i actually have ideas for this if it were to be a slugcat campaign...

another cut arena slug! this time this one. i tried to keep it more in line rather than go a bit silly ehe. i still like how this came out- i think the accent color is nice. it looks like bingus to me actually. bingus slugcat

iggy projection slug. weird thing with lines under its eyes

to me this is another of nsh's purposed messengers. the lil guy that sent the distateful message. whatever it was icr the exacts but. him. boy. the darker pink is like armor like a centipede. looks like ham to me

iggy projection slug that had silly little small ears so i thought i'd include them

i was having so much trouble with this design but @pinkavtomation actually helped me out because i was. Struggling so hard and i was streaming doing these designs in vc (for 9 hours straight... voids) 'n it sent this and honestly. yeah. funky vitiligo cat to me.

colors r sorta based on vanilla and chocolate icecream???? thats what i was thinkin when i was lookin at it honestly. just a lil guy to me

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girlwithwolftatoo · 2 years

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The Devil and the Flower -chapter 4

TW: Mentions of self-injuries

No playing, no winning

The second time the door opened, the Grabber carried with him a leather bag, which was slung anyhow over his shoulder. The face was hidden behind a mask which was now accompanied by a grin from ear to ear, and in fact, from the tone of his voice, he seemed genuinely in a good mood.

"How are you?" he asked by way of greeting. He didn't close the door, he didn't need to worry about that, with an immobile leg Violet didn't stand a chance in hell of escaping. The girl didn't even straighten up from the mattress, she looked at the bag swinging against the man's left leg "I brought you medicine... and I'm going to change your bandages, okay?"

The Raptor squatted down in front of the mattress and began to pull several things out of the bag: a bottle of mineral water, a couple of new bandages, gauze, iodine... Curled up like a cat, Violet followed his movements with her eyes, his hands were big, firm, some rings adorned his fingers, although she couldn't distinguish if they had any insignia on them. She had seen rings like that before, some years ago, and felt a mute pain in the pit of her stomach.

"Get up" the Grabber ordered, his eyes, veiled by the mask, went to Violet. "I won't say it again."

There was a hint of menace in his voice, and the girl preferred not to try her luck. She sat with her feet very close to the edge of the mattress, crossing her chest with one arm, feeling for the first time uncomfortable with the lack of a shirt. The Grabber began to unwrap her leg, saying nothing, utterly devoted to that labor which Violet was led to believe was only a palliative, a syrup that numbed the pain moments before dropping a proverbial axe on her neck.

"It's still a little swollen..." he commented, catching the heel in his left hand "Can you wiggle your toes?" Violet did as he instructed, and grimaced in discomfort "Hmm... looks like it's not broken... Let's adjust the bandages a bit, what do you think?"

He tightened the new bandages without any difficulty, and Violet had her eyes on his hands that wrapped around the ankle with little effort, straining every time he tugged at the bandages. As if the scene were unreal, the girl dared to speak:

"When are you going to kill me?"

The hands stopped moving, the Grabber raised his head.

"Excuse me?" but Violet didn't ask the question again, she knew he had heard her. The man snorted "Why do you think I'm going to kill you?"

"Because..." her voice was weak, and she didn't know if it was because of the fear she refused to let out at all or because she hadn't spoken in who knows how many hours or days "it's what you do, isn't it? Kidnap... and then kill..."

Behind the mask, the man frowned.

"Is that some kind of invitation?"

What kind of answer was that?

" You killed Vance Hopper... he was my friend..." her nose flaps flared, a feeling she knew all too well, anger, bubbled up inside her "And the other kids too... there can't be two killers at the same time in a shitty little town like this..."

The Grabber turned his attention back to the bandages.

"Listen..." he pointed at her, finishing the adjusting "There are two things I don't want to hear: the first, it's rudeness, and the second... it's about that whole thing about... the... kids" he raised his head again, Violet could feel his eyes angry "Got it?" she didn't respond with more than a nod "Good. I need you to come closer, I'm going to check your nose."

"Leave things here, I'll do it myself" she didn't want to feel those hands (the hands that killed Vance, she thought) on her again.

"You don't have a mirror, if you make a mistake you'll be left with a shredded nose."

"And what do you care? If I'm going to die anyway-"

"I said come closer!"

The Raptor made no move, but it was clear that his patience was at its limit. She remembered Vance's advice, don't fight, don't give him what he wanted, and he surely wanted an excuse to get violent. She remembered how she and Hopper gloated about not doing what the "stupid adults" asked them to do, and feeling again like crying, she advanced on all fours to the edge of the mattress. The man swallowed saliva and, as if there had been no interruption, proceeded to remove the makeshift splint.

She couldn't see, but felt the swelling that still lingered, and yet the Grabber acted so carefully that he really did look like a doctor, except that Violet didn't know of any doctor who attended in a soundproofed basement. With the tip of his forefinger he traced the edge of the nose, probing lightly, and Violet barely made any gestures.

"Lift your head..." he didn't seem too convinced by the way the girl stretched her neck, so he held her face with both hands to maneuver as he pleased. Violet flinched, she could feel the rings on her jaw and that made her feel even more uncomfortable "There's still some blood... Listen, I'll put a piece of gauze with iodine, don't you dare move because if you do, I'll hurt you" it wasn't a threat properly, he said it with condescension, almost kindness.

Violet closed her eyes as she felt the gauze going in, tied to a wooden stick, through one of her nose pits.

"It's okay to cry" the doctor had told her, a bald but frankly smiling man who had seen almost every child in town parade through his office that summer alone "It hurts, yes, but it's a momentary pain...that's it, you can put your head down..."

Her mother hugged her, protectively, as she returned to her side. Her lip was swollen, but there was no more blood left than the almost imperceptible droplets on her shirt. The doctor dismissed them both, warning Violet to be careful when playing, and the two proceeded down the main avenue, silent, unsmiling. They passed by the soda fountain, both stopped, looking through the huge glass panes, at the bar where the cups and plates for the various delicacies being served were displayed.

Her mother nervously checked her watch. Then, with a sigh, she asked:

"How about some ice cream?"

"Can we eat it?" asked Violet. They both understood the meaning of that question, and the woman forced a smile.

"Eat it on the way, and be very careful, don't get yourself dirty."

They also stopped by to buy a new glass, exactly like the one that had broken, cutting the girl's face. There was to be no trouble, no disturbing the order, at home, everything would go on as before. Violet would go to bed early, so her father would not notice the wound on her lip....

"And that's it..." placing the last piece of tape, the Grabber ended his work. As last time, he held out some pills and the bottle of water "Take them now, I'll be back later with the food."

Blind and absolute obedience, Violet knew what that meant, she knew it when she took the pills to her mouth and took a few long gulps without taking her eyes off her captor. Would he have done the same with the others, with Vance, with Robin? And, when they stopped obeying him, did he end their lives, as punishment for their insolence? There was only one way to find out....

She set the uncapped bottle on the ground, and immediately, knocked it over with her hand. The Grabber jumped, the water nearly hit him on one shoe, and Violet waited, anxiously, for his reaction.

"What was that?" he growled, looking at her.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident."

"Pick it up immediately" Violet didn't move, she continued to stare at the man "Pick it up or I'll...!"

"Or what, you'll kill me?" she spat, tense. She noticed his fists clench, fear rose in her throat and she braced herself for what was coming. Those who disobey must be punished...

The man sighed. He grabbed his bag and kicked the bottle, which rolled off to the wall on the left. Violet closed her eyes in a gasp, she hated that sound, glass hitting the floor, porcelain shattering, a book slamming on a table. When she opened them again, the man was already standing by the door.

"You will soon heal" he told her with a growl "And then, there will be no more pity for you, naughty girl."

He slammed the door shut. Violet, knowing he couldn't hear her, screamed:

"Son of a bitch!" and collapsed on the mattress in anger. She looked at the bottle and wondered if she could throw it at his head next time.

Violet didn't know, but it was already Sunday. At home, Mrs. Betsy was coming home from mass, not caring if the neighbors mentioned the absence of her granddaughter, whom she was practically dragging along so that she would at least have the decency to ask the Lord's forgiveness for her bad blood. No one talked about her, really, no one knew she was underground, buried alive in a murderer's basement, with an old, damaged phone as her only companion, digging her nails into one leg with all her might until blood began to gush out, a relief of such caliber that she ended up rolling on the mattress a few minutes later, dozing off, staring at the silent phone that seemed to breathe....

The first time she saw Robin Arellano, he was buying iodine at the pharmacy. Violet was holding an atomic bomb in her hands, the symbol of her femininity, and noticing that the boy was turning his head, waiting for the shopkeeper to give him his change, she hid the rectangular packet behind her back, like a thief. The two looked into each other's eyes, Robin had a scraped knee, bleeding exaggeratedly.

When she came out with the package wrapped in an opaque plastic bag, she found him on the curb of the street, wiping the wound on his knee. She didn't know what prompted her to speak to him, perhaps that their gazes met again, and it seemed rude to pretend she hadn't noticed.

"Bike fall?" she asked, friendly.

"Fight in the park" he clarified, calm. Robin must have been at most twelve at the time, and he wore around his tousled hair a tarnished bandana.

"And how did the other one turn out?"

"I think I knocked out a tooth."

"Did he ask for it?"

"Of course he did, he said something disgusting to me and... I couldn't tolerate it, could I?"

"Of course not" a sad smile tugged at Violet's lips "Take care" she said goodbye and went on her way. You couldn't tolerate other people's crap, that kid was right, and it would be good to put it into practice next time....

"Naughty girl..."

Violet jumped. Again the damn dream, but now she was in a park, the park near the town waterway, all engulfed in that depressing gray and black snowflakes falling from the cloudy sky.

The girl started forward, saw the picnic tables, broken and worn, and the dying trees shedding their last leaves.

"Vance?" she called with all her might "Vance Hopper!"

She didn't know exactly how long she was walking, the mist was devouring everything after a few yards and it was impossible for her to see where she was coming from or where she was going, but she found, nailed to a dead oak tree, the black phone. She didn't think twice and picked it up.

"Vance, can you hear me?" she asked into the speaker. She waited a few seconds.

"Who's Vance?" the voice on the other end was much higher pitched, of a younger boy.

"Excuse me...who are you?"

The boy hesitated.

"I don't remember... I mean, not very well..."

"You're one of the missing children, aren't you?" asked Violet, looking around.

"Yes... you're the naughty girl then."

"Naughty girl? I'm Violet."

"Violet... Violet... like the flowers..."

"Where are you? I can't see you"

"Wait... do you hear?" a bicycle bell, but it wasn't ringing on the other side of the speaker... Violet rounded the trunk, and then saw the boy. He was wearing blue shorts, long socks and tennis shoes, his hair was blond and matted, and he was holding on to his bicycle with an absent expression. The girl shuddered, that little boy looked to be only about ten years old.

"Now I see you" she saw the boy move his lips, but his voice was only coming from the phone "You're very old...older than us, I think."

"Yes...in a week I'll be eighteen...that is, if I make it" she added bitterly.

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"The game's already started, and you have to play, whether you want to or not."

"What game?"

"Naughty boy" the little boy raised his eyebrows "It's his favorite game. You have to play it, because if you don't play it, he can't win."

"Naughty boy... what is that, what...?" she blanched "Don't tell me that... he..."

"I'll explain, don't worry. One of these days, you'll see that the Grabber closes the door, but doesn't lock it. That means you can get out, but don't be confident, he'll be waiting for you, with that belt..."

Violet gulped.

"You'll have to escape, and he'll follow you, if he catches you, he'll have won, and then you'll go to the next level..."

"And what if I... decide not to play?"

The boy laughed, but it was a frightening laugh, almost from beyond the grave.

"Do you think you have a choice? He likes games, and if you don't play with him... well, he'll find a way to make you, and it'll hurt, it'll hurt like hell."

"You know, my fucking nose is broken, I don't think he could hurt me with anything worse than that."

"No, he won't break any bones, because then you won't be able to play, but he'll hit you with the belt" the little boy's eyes got huge "He'll hit you regardless, until you start bleeding, and then he'll hit you harder. You'll cry, you'll beg him to stop, but he won't. He'll skin you alive if you don't pass out fast, and don't try to pretend you passed out, he'll keep going until he's sure."

"My God...did that...did that happen to you?"

"Not to me...but trust me, he will. Then again, who knows, it's the first time he's had a naughty girl in his basement."

Violet looked down.

"Little girls get beat up too, you know?" she muttered.

"I guessed as much. But, it's so weird, isn't it?" The boy mounted his bike and rang his bell "One more thing, to get out of the house you have to open a lock, it has a combination, I just... I don't remember it."

"You don't remember it? You mean... you knew it?"

"Yes, it was from my bike. Anyway, good luck, Violet-as-the-flowers."

She watched him disappear into the mist, with the sound of his bell as the only sign that he had ever been there.

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#the black phone #the black phone fanfiction #blumhouse #the grabber #the grabber x oc #ethan hawke #fanfiction

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