[Sully, Rehashing A Recent Mission]: And So This Bozo Gets Fuckin Stabbed And Leaves Me To Deal With

[Sully, rehashing a recent mission]: And so this bozo gets fuckin’ stabbed and leaves me to deal with the rest of them! Not only that, but I had to carry him back! Fuckin’ carry him like a baby! How pathetic is that?

[Cody]: Ah yes, I’m terribly sorry that me almost dying was such an inconvenience for you. 

~ Ｎａｖｉｇａｔｉｏｎ ~

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【~Ｒｕｌｅｓ~】

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【~Ｈｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ~】

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【~Ｏｌｄ　Ｐｒｏｊｅｃｔｓ~】

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【~Ｉｎｃｏｒｒｅｃｔ　Ｑｕｏｔｅｓ~】

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【~Ｏｎｅ－Ｓｈｏｔｓ　＆　Ｓｃｅｎａｒｉｏｓ~】

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【~Ｇｅｎｅｒａｌ　＆　Ｓ／Ｏ　Ｈｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ~】

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【~Ｍａｒｂｌｅ　Ｈｏｒｎｅｔｓ~】

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【~Ｑｕｅｓｔｉｏｎｓ~】

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【~Ｆａｎｆｉｃｔｉｏｎ~】

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【~Ｓｕｂｍｉｓｓｉｏｎｓ~】

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【~Ｒｅｑｕｅｓｔｓ~】

Be strong, keep fighting a little longer. You can get through this. I believe in you.

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(Source)

*dies cutely*

*&!?

:]

>:]

Awwww my wittle kitten🥺🙏🤪

Can we get an S/O who’s got the exact same birthday as BEN? Considering I share the same bday as him🙏

haha, that's so cool <3

Ben Drowned w/ a s/o who shares the same birthday

Oh, there would be a party for sure.

He would find it absolutely awesome that you were born on the same day that he was and would wave it around like a flag.

He's also convinced that such a coincidence isn't a coincidence at all and is, in fact, further proof that the two of you were destined to be together.

Although he doesn't need to eat to survive, good luck stopping him from devouring everything within his path like a dinosaur. This calls for celebration, after all!

And knowing Ben, there will be many, many choices because - speaking simply - he loves food.

Only the ones he deems 'cool' will be invited, even though it literally takes place in the living room, and if somebody that wasn't on his mental list happens to show up, they will be shooed away with a kind shock to the buttocks. More than likely, they will leave after that, because someone seldom wants to end up being unable to sit down.

Perhaps a bit unconventional but hey, they won't listen to him any other way. At least he has something to use against them.

And since he is a ghost, it's a little hard to retaliate.

Expect to have party games galore.

Pin the tail on the donkey, spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven, beer pong. Anything you could think about or ever desire to play, it will be there.

Also sick jams will be playing loudly through the speakers that he definitely didn't steal from Amazon.

Ben doesn't know the first thing about dancing but he will try.

And proceed to look like an idiot.

But as long as the both of you are having fun, who cares?

He certainly doesn't. The majority of the Manor's residents already think poorly about him, anyway.

In short, it will be chaotic, but a good time will surely be had. Just help him plan it and everything will be fine (hopefully). After all, this is as much your party as it is his, and he wants you to feel included!

After you've tuckered yourselves out, and everyone has left, he will probably challenge you to a gaming war, insisting that he'd beat you without any effort. Then he will fall asleep on your shoulder.

Cute lil' bean boi.

𝒜 𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝐸𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

5 — 𝒮𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝑒

"So you used to come here a lot, then?"

"All the time. I guess it was just the perfect place to...hang out, and not be disturbed." She shrugs, her feet dangling past the large tree branch as she gazes down idly into the wide body of water below the two of them. Its surface is glistening with sunlight, and she imagines schools of fish, small turtles, and fresh tadpoles to be swimming underneath. She had forgotten just how peaceful it was here, completely away from society, where it allows her to be alone with her thoughts. 

"That's understandable. It is a nice area. Really quiet." He leans his back against the trunk of the tree, his eyes shifting up to the sky currently overcast by fluffy clouds and keeping half of his concentration directed at his task. "You liked solitude, then."

"What do you mean?" She glances at him curiously, and he meets her eyes for a short moment.

"You came here alone all the time, right? So you must've liked solitude."

"Oh, well, I mean—" She shakes her head, trying to collect her words and say them in a sensible manner. "No, I didn't come alone all the time. Mostly, I had Wyatt...with me..." Her voice lowers the more she talks, and she feels a wave of grief wash over her, once again. She knows she won't be able to successfully hide her emotions, so she turns her head and tries to compose herself. There's a few seconds of silence before Jack speaks.

"...Wyatt?" There's a sense of recognition in his tone, and she curls her knees up and into her chest instinctively, holding back a tear. "Wyatt...Colson?" Her eyes dart to him, her expression molding into one of consternation. 

"...How did you know that?" It doesn't cross her mind that murder and a teen's disappearance draw attention from all places, and that word spreads fast. She also doesn't realize that he, among others, keeps tabs on mysterious and abrupt events such as that one, and he knows the names by heart.

"Uh, w-well," He replaces his startled expression with one of veracity and oblivion, "he was the guy that went missing, right? Heard it from...my mom." He seems unsure, and she furrows her eyebrows though doesn't comment on it. There are more important things to fret over. 

"Yeah..." The word comes out as a mere whisper as her eyes avert down to her hands. "I guess...I guess he is."

"You were close?" he asks, leaning forward slightly. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Um, y-yeah, I mean...he was my cousin."

"Oh..." His gaze softens as he absentmindedly fiddles with a loose thread hanging from his hoodie, tilting his head to the side. "That's unfortunate... Sorry." A forlorn sigh travels from between her lips before she can stop it, and she shakes her head lightly. 

"Yeah, well...there's nothing you can do about it. Things happen."

"If it makes you feel any better, I lost my dad when I was just a kid." Her eyes move up to meet his curiously, and he glances down at his hands. "Car accident. It really crushed my mom, I don't think she ever got over it." Sympathy shines within her eyes, and she replies.

"Wow. I'm sorry."

"Eh, don't be. It was a long time ago, I hardly even remember the guy." Changing the subject, he leans toward her and asks another question. "Do you have any other family down here?"

"Besides my grandparents? No." A serene breath flows out of her nose as she watches the leaves in the trees rustle and feels the breeze glide through her hair, giving her an inkling of solace. "I used to have a couple of friends that I played with sometimes. Don't know where they went, though."

He nods in understanding, squinting his eyes as the sun's bright beam reflects off of the water and hits him straight in the face, screwing with his impaired sight. Perhaps this isn't the best place to be sitting at the moment. She turns her head to look at him once again, though parts her lips in concern and narrows her eyes. "Uh...you okay?" When she receives a slightly confused expression, she clarifies, growing perplexed. "Your nose? It's bleeding."

Only then does he feel the warm, sticky substance drip down slowly until it reaches his lip, and he lifts the back of his hand up to wipe it away, unintentionally smearing it across his skin. "Oh, yeah, um." He uses his sleeve to get the rest of it off his face, though it proves fruitless when even more of the liquid crimson continues to run out of his nose. "This is— I mean, it's normal." 

She furrows her eyebrows suspiciously, taking notice of the sudden nervousness present in his voice. "Really? It looks kinda..."

"No, no, it's fine." He takes a Kleenex out of his pocket and presses it to his nostril in an effort to slow the bleeding as he considers the height of the tree the both of them are sitting in. "But...I should get going, before my mom, uh...worries." He twists his body around until his foot is securely settled on a tree branch to his right, and he begins to climb down. 

"Uh, yeah... Okay." She watches him skillfully maneuver from tree branch to tree branch, never missing a beat and moving at a pace faster than she could ever dream of. She hadn't observed his actions when he first followed her up the tree, too busy focusing on not slipping and breaking her neck. Now that she's paying attention, she finds herself intrigued. "You're pretty good at that. Were there trees where you come from?" It's a bit of a strangely-worded question, though she figures it gets the point across well enough.

He jumps to the ground and looks up at her, shrugging and once again being pressured to wipe the blood away from his face. "There was a really nice one a while back, but lightning hit and destroyed it during a storm." She hums in response, realizing that he likely can't hear it from the ground due to the distance between the two of them. A faint buzzing sound erupts through her ears, and she swats at the air, her first guess being that a fly or bee found its way to her and decided to test her patience.

"You can find your way back, right?" She raises her voice, hoping that he's able to understand her. Thankfully, he nods in confirmation. 

"Yeah, I'm good." The buzzing continuously grows louder, and as a result, she jerks her head from side to side, trying to get a look at whatever pesky insect decided to torment her and put a stop to it, but she fails to see anything. "Can you find your way back?" She runs a hand through her hair to see if there's something nestled inside, though to her relief, doesn't find anything.

"Nah, I came all the way out here without knowing where I was going." He releases a light chuckle, noticing her sudden change in behavior and craning his neck farther back to get a better look at her.

"Something wrong?" The buzzing only grows louder and it becomes more difficult to hear what he's saying clearly, though she manages and presses a hand to her ear.

"I-I think it's just a bug or somethin'." As the obnoxious noise increases, a headache presents itself, and she taps her temple with the heel of her hand to get a handle on what she's hearing. At the same time, Jack's chest starts to tingle with a familiar ominous feeling and his gaze falls to the trees around him, searching for the source frantically as apprehension dawns on his face. 

Thinking now would be an acceptable time to get out of the tree before she ends up falling into the water, she carefully scoots toward the trunk, hoping the sound will dissipate if she gets away from whatever's nest she mistakenly disturbed. She glances down at Jack, her vision becoming strained for unknown reasons, and lets out a startled gasp at what she sees.

His skin seems to have darkened to an unnatural tone, looking more like an ashen grey than the pale ivory that it was previously, and in place of his eyes are black, endless sockets with some type of thick substance that steadily leaks down his cheeks. 

It's an alarming sight indeed, but before she can say anything about it, her vision becomes clearer and she notices that he looks just like himself, again. That was...weird. She grasps a branch, still attempting to clear the headache and unpleasant buzzing as she cautiously makes her own way down the tall tree. I must be going crazy.

Her sight is obscured once again, making her blink to try and rid herself of the blurriness. She shakes her head as the buzzing turns from bearable to inexplicably harsh, greatly disorienting her as a wave of dizziness strikes her body. Her grip tightens around the branches that are currently supporting her weight, and she leans into the tree, not willing to move and risk falling to the ground below.

"Jack...how many feet would you say I had to brave before I reach the bottom?" She only asks because she fears looking down would cause her to lose her balance. Through the thick droning, she hears only silence. Maybe he didn't hear me. "Jack?" She makes a point to speak louder to ensure that she's discerned, but still, he doesn't respond, and she bites her lip nervously. Don't tell me he left. "Jack?"

"Y-yeah, no, you're not far. Could probably jump if you wanted." Tension is released from her chest, and she wills her body to calm down. She doesn't catch how his voice wavers anxiously as he knots his eyebrows together, not looking away from the forest and what it may hold within. 

She lets out a breath that she means to reassure her, though it only makes her hands shake as she ever so slowly descends further down, her feet staying locked on whichever branches she blindly steps on to act as her support system. Hey, this isn't so bad. Just take it slow...and you'll be down in no time. It's a piece of cake.

But she thinks too soon, for not three seconds later, an invisible force latches itself around her shoulders, and before she can even react, she's being pushed away from the tree. Her fingers untangle themselves and her feet lose their place, shock traveling through her mind and making her briefly paralyzed. She feels her heart skip a beat as her breathing momentarily stops, eyes snapping shut and brain in a frenzy. All she can think about is hitting the ground. Smashing her head on a rock. Breaking her arm. Twisting her leg. Being impaled.

The outcomes seem endless as gravity forces her body closer and closer to the ground, but instead of dying and drifting off into the afterlife, she feels strong arms loop themselves under her own, not stopping her legs from colliding rather hard with the ground but cradling her torso and cushioning her head with a sturdy chest. 

Her heart still runs what feels like a thousand beats per second, and the world around her slowly starts moving again. Her mind is able to comprehend what happened fairly quickly, and she cracks her eyes open, gaze moving up and landing on Jack's face, sunlight from above darkening the edges and making it seem as if he's glowing a bright yellow. She expects him to look startled, if not amused, but is taken off-guard when she instead sees that a concerned, distraught expression is etched across his admittedly handsome features.

She feels something wet drip onto her cheek, just below her eye, and assumes it to be some of the blood from his nose, therefore doesn't make it her first priority to wipe it away for fear of seeming rude. His eyes nervously shift around the two of them as he hurriedly pulls her to her feet, keeping a hand on her shoulder until she's stable. Her hand grips the tree trunk as her body is hit by another overwhelming dizzy spell, content that the buzzing in her ears has stilled and mentally praying that the headache will go away.

"You okay?" She rubs the side of her head gently, trying to soothe the pain, and nods.

"I think so. Thanks, Jack." With that same hand, she discreetly swipes it along her cheek, removing the blood that was oozing without much thought and glancing down at it. What she sees confuses her, and she brings her hand closer to her face to get a better look. What is now smeared across her skin is a rich, tar-like solidity, similar to what she "saw" coming out of his eyes, or lack thereof. But that isn't possible. Maybe it's just such a deep scarlet that causes it to look unusually dark. 

Feeling a bit disgusted but more so befuddled, she wipes it on the tree and gets the majority off of her hand. Who bleeds black blood? She knows for a fact that the liquid coming from his nose before looked thin and was a bright red, so what changed about it? Perhaps it's only her perception; after all, she isn't exactly in the best shape right now, mentally or physically. So she turns to ask him about that very thing, only to blink in surprise when she finds he isn't there. 

She takes a couple of unsteady strides forward to see if he's hiding behind a tree, or somehow blending in incredibly well, though she isn't successful. "Jack?" She glances around, toward the trail they followed to get here, but again, she's unable to see him anywhere. "Jack!" A feeling of urgency fills her heart, urgency about what though, she hasn't a clue. He was about to leave, but she expected a goodbye of sorts, not a sudden disappearance. Besides, she would have heard him leave, right? He was just right behind her. Where could he have gone so quickly? "Jack, is this a prank?"

A brief cough exits her mouth, but she doesn't pay it any mind, too focused on finding the boy. She stumbles toward the path, bending over and rinsing the goop off of her hand in the river water beside her but being careful not to topple over into it. Another cough, this one more forced, and she clutches at her head to ease the pain each one brings. Looking down the length of the path, she sees nobody, which greatly confuses her.

"Jack! Seriously, are you hiding?" A moment later she presses her mouth into her arm to conceal the strained coughs that now steadily erupt from within and tries to catch her breath. "Jack—" This time she's cut off as another violent hack comes from her throat, leaving it scratchy and her desperate. She doubles over and shuts her eyes tightly, bearing the turmoil that her body is suddenly putting her through for unknown reasons.

Her stomach grows queasy and her head throbs, stressed tears brimming her eyes as the coughs only worsen after each second. Before she can even grasp what's happening, her legs collapse and she falls straight to the grassy terrain below, fighting for any breath of oxygen that she can possibly get only to come up empty every time. The tears now fall, streaming across the bridge of her nose all the way down to the tip before dropping.

Her fingers withdraw and clutch handfuls of dirt as her body shakes vigorously, though not from fear, merely from distress. Her mind is in a haze of agony, making her hyper-focus on one thing only; breathing. She feels as if her organs have become detached and are going to spew from her mouth any second, and a fierce burning sensation in her lungs makes her gag as stomach acid arises, dribbling down her lip. Her hacking is combined with pained sobbing, her condition only getting more gut-wrenching the longer it continues, all the while that same unpleasant buzzing never quiets and abuses her ears with its shrill pitch.

Her stomach convulses and sends half-digested food up through her body, and consequently, she retches and spits it right below her face. The discomfort fogging her mind begins to dissipate, and the hacking she was forced to suffer through comes to an abrupt stop, finally allowing her to suck in a deep breath of air that her body has been struggling to grasp. A few more light coughs come out of her mouth, and she rolls on her side, trying to recover as she gasps for much-needed oxygen. 

Her muscles loosen themselves in relief, and she lets out a quiet cry, a mixture of both alleviation and affliction. She lays there for around five minutes, gathering her bearings and recuperating from the unforeseen exertion, before taking in a soft breath and fluttering her eyes open. The terrible droning, at once, fades away and gives her a chance to get her thoughts straight. She weakly pushes herself up, unable to stop from looking down at the pile of acid, regurgitated food, and blood laying on the grass that her body pushed out. 

She gently places her hand on her sore, scratchy throat and massages it, hoping to soothe a bit of the pain, if not all of it, and trying not to have a panic attack over the fact that she nearly hacked her very own lungs out not seven minutes ago. Stray tears dribble down her warmed cheeks and she wipes saliva from her chin, finding the strength eventually to stand to her feet and begin her slow, thoughtful trek back to her grandparents' cottage.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

His feet feel almost weightless as he runs at high speeds, far higher than what the average person could ever go, his body twisting whenever necessary to ensure he doesn’t accidentally slam into one of the hundreds of trees around him. His mask is now pushed back over his face and hides the dark grey tone of his skin and the sharp rows of teeth in his mouth, though his empty sockets remain visible.

The tingling in his chest begins to lessen the farther away he gets from the river, but he doesn’t take it as a sign to slow down. Instead, he quickens his pace, avoiding the thick foliage, leaping over a fallen tree, and sliding down a small hill, in a hurry to make it back. He fears the worst could happen if he were to stop.

Easily navigating through the familiar forest and toward Brian's house, his lungs aren’t even starting to get tired and his legs aren’t yet begging for a break; only a few of the advantages of being a demon. Even in a rush, he still somehow manages to be stealthy, so much so that nobody could hear him unless they were listening extra closely. The area around him lacks most of its natural color through his perspective, and even a bit of its shape, but that only means his hearing, among other senses, is keener and is able to detect threats from far off. 

He can see the scenery that surrounds him, though the details leave quite a bit to be desired. The black, slimy tears continuously cascade down his navy-blue mask and fall to the ground beneath his boots; it would be pointless trying to keep them at bay. He learned this long ago, and now it doesn’t even cross his mind.

Finally, the old cabin comes into view, camouflaged by weeds, low-hanging vines, and overgrown grass, surrounded by an old barbed-wire fence, making the perfect place to take residence in. He swiftly climbs a tree to get past the minor barrier, sprints until he’s at the front door, and knocks, clearly frantic and in need of attention. He knows that the man must be there, for he was the one who told Jack to report back to him when he was finished with the assigned task, and he’s been gone for several hours at this point, so he must be expecting him back soon. 

To his relief, it only takes a minute before the door swings open, revealing the tall man - though shorter in comparison to Jack - clad in a mustard-brown hoodie and black and red cloth mask standing in the entrance of his home sweet home. He tilts his head up at him, narrowing his eyes though it can’t be seen from behind the stretchy piece of cloth covering his face and any emotion he may otherwise show.

After a moment, he nods in silent greeting and steps to the side, giving Jack room to walk into the house as Brian closes the door behind them. He turns to face him once again, leaning casually against the door frame and studying Jack’s body language. “What’d you find out?”

His sentence is short and straight-to-the-point, not surprising Jack in the least. Brian was never one to stretch things out; he’d much rather just hear what needs to be said using as few words as possible. Jack allows his muscles to relax, now eased by the knowledge that he’s currently in a safer area than he had been, and quickly collects his thoughts.

“It’s worse than I thought,” he starts, voice muffled by the mask shrouding his face. “He wants her and he wants her soon. If we’re gonna do something about it we need to act quickly, otherwise, it’s a lost cause.” Brian crosses his arms in understanding, processing the information that his trusted companion is delivering to him.

“Do you know where she lives?” Jack shakes his head.

“No, but she told me that she’s here visiting family. She’ll be leaving eventually, if she’s not gotten to, first.” 

“What family?”

“Grandparents. You know that couple that got murdered a while back?” He receives a curt nod in response. “Apparently, they were her relatives. Aunt and uncle.”

“They had a kid.”

“Yeah, Wyatt Colson. Adopted. He was her cousin.” Jack shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, waiting through a brief silence before speaking again. “They were close, she and him.”

“Did you get her name?”

“Y\n L\n.” Brian pulls his phone out of his jeans, focusing on the screen as he scrolls through his contacts and looks for one labeled Ben, clicking on it and shooting him a quick text telling him the girl’s name and to research her immediately. He gets an effortless "yup" soon after, and stuffs his phone back in his pocket, turning his attention back on Jack for more information.

“How old is she?”

“Young. Only sixteen.” Jack subconsciously bounces on the heels of his shoes, though the action is barely noticeable and disregarded by Brian, who keeps his gaze locked onto the boy’s masked face. “She was nice. Something was definitely troubling her, though. I could feel it.”

“So she’s emotionally vulnerable. That makes her easy bait.”

“Maybe. He was messing with her head, but she was trying to resist it.” Jack remembers her odd behavior before he left, and he recalls feeling pressure in his mind as she gripped at her hair. She looked distraught, though he could sense that she wasn’t giving into the fog of thoughts her mind was likely being covered in at the time. Not easily.

“What do you think about it?” he asks, and Jack considers the question a short moment.

“I think she may stand a chance. From what she told me, she seems to come from a more or less broken family. All the more fire to fuel her hate. That could be a good or a bad thing.”

“We’ll see what Ben’s results are, then make a final decision.” Jack nods, not quite wanting to just forget about her and let her fall victim to the inevitable like so many others before her. He senses potential; something that isn’t very common for them. He would be less than content to just brush her aside as if she was simply meaningless to all of them, knowing they could have helped, possibly saved a soul from eternal torment and what could be referred to as slavery.

He is well aware that it would be a big risk, bringing another person to their base after so many years of isolation, and he knows it could easily result in catastrophe. But he isn’t very doubtful about this particular case; he saw no reason to be when he was speaking with her. She seemed innocent enough, then again, it’s always the "innocent" ones that end up stabbing you in the back. 

All he knows is that if they’re going to do something, they need to do it soon, because she’s in immediate danger, and he has a feeling she doesn’t even realize it. She won’t until it’s too late.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Her eyes drift up from the dirt to the familiar cottage that she’s grown acquainted with during the past few days, and she releases a shaky breath, the action itself causing her mild pain in the back of her throat. Gosh, water sounds so refreshing right now. She walks closer, only noticing her grandfather sitting on the porch when she reaches the gateway and avoids direct eye contact. She knows that he’s going to try and speak to her, especially considering the conversation this morning, and she wants to dodge that until she feels a bit more like herself.

She’s still totally puzzled at what happened over an hour ago and has racked her brain for answers, only to fail each time. Maybe she just caught the stomach flu? But stomach flues make you throw up, not cough until you feel like you’ll explode at any moment. Perhaps something got caught in her throat and triggered her gag reflex? Highly doubtful. Gag reflex doesn’t work like that.

She forces a fleeting smile across her face as she draws nearer, but drops the act once she sees that his eyes are closed, his lips are parted, and soft snores exit his mouth as his head is leaned comfortably against the wall behind him. Oh good. He’s asleep.

Hopefully, she can sneak in undetected by her grandmother, who is most likely up at this point in the day and well aware of her surroundings. She steps quietly onto the porch and grips the handle of the screen door, pulling it open and cringing when it makes a long, drawn-out squeak in response. She glances at Pops in concern, shoulders relaxing when she sees him still dozed off.

Her facial expression twists into one of agitation as she opens the second door, this time with less caution, and walks inside, knowing that her Nana had to have heard that obnoxious noise. Her hearing is relatively better than her husband’s, after all. Her gaze shifts toward the living room, biting the inside of her cheek when she catches a glimpse of her grandmother sitting on the recliner beside the couch, glasses on, her attention directed at the book in her hands.

She doesn’t seem to have noticed Y\n come inside, much to her relief, and she looks at the staircase directly ahead of her, glancing in-between Nana and it as she silently closes the door and wonders if she can pull this off. It’s only a few feet away, but Nana would surely see her walking and be interested in a conversation. The very thing that Y\n desperately wants to avoid for the time being.

She swallows, inwardly wincing at the discomfort that radiates from the back of her throat, and carefully moves forward, hoping beyond hope that Nana won’t spot her. “Oh, hi, Y\n.” The girl freezes, turning her gaze back toward Farrah and meeting her eyes regretfully. “You were out a while this time. Almost five hours.”

She nods, not wanting to speak unless absolutely necessary, at least not until she gets ahold of some pain relievers. The elderly woman tilts her head forward, setting the book in her lap and giving her granddaughter her full attention. 

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Y\n’s eyebrows knit together in confusion before she pieces it together in her head and allows a knowing expression to form across her face. After hearing the silence, Nana speaks, again. “It was good, Y\n. Thank you.” She hums in reply, wanting to leave it at that, however, when she starts walking up the stairs, she hears her grandmother’s voice. “Are you alright?”

She nods once more, making her exit quick and shuffling up the staircase, stopping only when she reaches her room. She grabs her bag and digs through it, eventually grasping a plastic bag filled with various medicine that she thought was appropriate to bring along with her, just in case. She pulls out the bottle labeled "Tylenol" and unscrews the cap, pouring two of the red, blue, and white capsules into her palm before putting their container back into the bag.

She grabs her water bottle and, after a moment of hesitation, swallows the medicine without much trouble, taking a sip of water afterward to subdue the pain a bit. She then sits on her bed, hands tangling themselves in her hair as she tries to hold the weight of stress on her shoulders. It still feels hard for her to fully process - everything does, really. She almost wants to cry again, but refrains, mainly because it would only cause her greater physical pain, and that’s one of the last things she wants right now.

The sun shining in through her window hits her back and warms her insides, bringing her a sense of consolation. It will be okay. It has to be, right? She will get through these trials. She can handle them. Can’t she?

A quiet whimper forces itself from her mouth and she covers her face in an effort to compose herself. Why me? Why now? She hears her phone chime from her pocket, indicating she just received a text. That’s strange. Nobody ever cares enough to text her anymore. Growing curious and wanting to focus on anything other than her pathetically devastating situation, she slides it out and presses the sleep button, quickly typing out the password and going to her messages.

Unknown number? She blinks and wipes away a tear before it’s able to fall from her eye, looking down at the glowing screen and clicking on the contact.

Yo, is this Y\n?

“What the…” she can’t help but mutter, ignoring the twinge of pain it causes and furrowing her eyebrows in bemusement. Is it somebody from school? Her thoughts then turn to Jack, though she shakes her head in disregard, deciding that it wouldn’t be possible. We never exchanged numbers.

After staring at her phone for two minutes straight, she sends a message back, almost certain that somebody from her school somehow got her number from one of her friends. Or, well, acquaintances, at this stage in her life.

Yes... With whom am I speaking?

She waits for a response, tapping her finger against her leg absentmindedly and gazing through the window. Her e\c eyes land on the treeline, halfway expecting to see something standing outside. It reminds her of when she awoke last night and saw that mysterious, eerie figure posing at the edge of the forest, its creepy white mask standing out in the dark of the night. 

Even after several minutes, she doesn't get a response, and she comes to the conclusion that it's likely a prank, no matter how strange and abrupt it is, and tosses her phone on her bed, choosing to forget about it. A movement in the doorway draws her awareness, and she turns her head in that direction, raising her eyebrows when she sees Nana standing there with a commiserate expression painted across her wrinkled features. 

"Sweetheart..." Y\n cranes her neck to the side and parts her lips, beginning to feel the Tylenol take effect and lessen the aching in her throat.

"Nana?" Farrah rubs the back of her neck, almost nervously, as she walks farther into the room. "Is...something wrong?"

"Your grandpa told me what happened this morning... I'm sorry, baby." She makes her way beside Y\n, sitting on the bed and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y\n's posture slumps as she realizes what she's referring to, and her gaze shifts down to her lap. She twiddles her fingers, sensing the tension in the air between the two of them. "Are you gonna be okay?" 

She waits a moment, thinking over her reply. She doesn't want to worry her, besides, she's positive this has been extremely hard on Nana and Pops, much harder than it could have ever been on her. That was their daughter, their grandchild. And that, on top of already having lost their son to ridiculous family disagreements? And not having the emotional support of anybody but themselves? It makes her feel terrible for them. 

"Yeah..." She clears her throat, looking anywhere in the room but Nana, and fighting the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. "Y-yeah, I'll be fine. It's...fine." Her voice cracks, and she feels Farrah's fingers ghost through her hair to calm her down, console her in some way. 

"Hun, if you need to talk, or anything else, you can come to me. I know it's a lot of hard information to process, and so suddenly, too." She only nods wistfully, not even trying to mask the hurt on her face, anymore. Nana notices and gives her a quick hug before standing to her feet and exiting the room, leaving the girl sitting alone once again, with a heavy heart and an uncanny suspicion that things are about to get even more dreadful from here on out.