My Phone Gallery:

My phone gallery: 

5% family photos

25% memes

70% pictures of my cats

I miss the good old days when 10 o’clock was considered late, calling someone a butt-head was insulting, and saying the word “fart” was a rebel move.

Jay in Entry #16: What? Is that blood in the sink?

Also Jay: Proceeds to touch it

Reblog reblog REBLOG. Women aren’t the only victims.

Just an experiment. Reblog if you actually give a fuck about male victims of domestic violence and rape.

Of fucking course

What sick bastard doesn’t

SHOW CAT PICS

Lol, okay. Gimme a moment.

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Yayyy, the second chapter is done! Enjoy~

Chapter 2- Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

It's hard to make sense of anything around her. The static making itself ever-present in her mind is almost crippling. It blocks out all of her thoughts. Distant whispers erupt throughout the endless grays and blacks. It's like she's fallen into a void. Like she can't escape.

A breeze suddenly blows past her. It's burning hot but somehow icy-cold at the same time. It gives her a feeling of terror, utter, raw fear that grips at her heart and squeezes her lungs. She finds it hard to breathe. She looks around frantically. It's the same. Everything is the same. She can't even see a floor beneath her feet, but she knows it's there. It has to be there. What else would she be standing on?

The static grows stronger, louder, overwhelming her senses and making her grab at her head in a desperate effort to make it stop. The breeze billows and the voices become more distinct. But she still can't hear what they're saying. Are they even saying anything? Or are they just murmurs of agony riding the wind and reaching her ears?

"Y\n..."

That voice. Something about that voice sends shivers down her spine, makes her heart speed up to an unhealthy rate. Her gaze averts around, trying to find a source, but she ultimately fails.

"Child... come."

'Come'?  Come where? The static in her mind seems to thicken and still at the same time, greatly confusing her, and she furrows her eyebrows. A fog graces her feet as it rolls across the seemingly invisible ground, bringing a sensation of dread and impending doom with it. She backs away, though finds it does nothing, as the area surrounding her goes nowhere.

"Come to us..."

"Who are you?!" she yells, but immediately tenses. She can't hear herself. Her voice has been... muted. The static continues to get stronger, and she hits the side of her head, trying to stop it. It cancels out her thoughts, makes her feel helpless. All while a suffocating feeling settles in her chest and it becomes more and more difficult to collect oxygen.

"Join me... Come..."

***

Her grip on the sheets covering her torso tightens as she shoots up in bed, instantly being greeted by light from the morning sun shining in through the window and making her squint her eyes and turn her head. She takes deep breaths, savoring the air finally invading her lungs as she tries to calm her rapid heartbeat.

She has had a lot of weird dreams before, but none compare to the one she just woke up from. She stares at nothing, in particular, blinking away the tears that formed in her eyes and refusing to cry. Taking notice of the fluffy feline curled up on her thighs and looking up at her with startled eyes, clearly not happy about being woken up, she lets out a soft sigh and strokes his back, finally able to steady her nerves and focus on more positive things.

"Sorry I disturbed your precious beauty sleep," she mutters sarcastically, wiping her eyes to get herself awake. She tries to brush the dream off as nothing, just stress creeping its way into her head and giving her freaky thoughts. But something about it just... unnerves her. Like it is much more serious than what she wants herself to think.

Leaning her back against the wall of her bed, she runs her hands through her messy hair and releases a yawn, rubbing her eyes before grabbing her phone off of the stool that she had pushed up beside her bed the previous night and turning it on, curious to see if anybody sent her a message and wanting to get her mind off of the nightmare.

None. She drops her phone by her side and slumps down, disheartened. I guess nobody cares, anymore. Then again, who can blame them? I'm just an inconvenience, anyway.

She managed to catch a glimpse of the time in the top right corner of her phone before she turned it off, discovering it's around 9:40 in the morning. "Sorry, buddy. I've gotta get up," she says, looking down at the cat in her lap that just got settled and is now trying to go back to sleep. His ear twitches in recognition, and she runs her fingers through his thick fur before gently sliding him off of her and standing up.

When her bare feet touch the chilled, hard-wood floor, she flinches and jumps onto the fluffy rug in the room's center, trying to get used to the surface in her mind's still hazy state. She glances back at the bed, and her e\c orbs land on Marshmallow, who is looking at her in obvious distaste. She narrows her eyes.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It's not like you can't sleep any other time of the day." He blinks and stands, stretching for a moment before turning away from her and lying back down. "Okay, fine, be that way. I bet you won't be mad when I give you some beef jerky later."

With that, she looks at the closet, then down at the floor, knowing what needs to be done and mentally preparing herself for it. C'mon Y\n, it's just a floor. A floor made of ice... but a floor, nonetheless. Quit being a pansy and go.

Sucking in a breath of encouragement, she steps onto the wood and lets out a squeak, her pace quickening the closer she gets to the closed door. "Right about now would be a good time to have slippers," she murmurs to herself, opening the door and stepping inside. She sifts through the different clothes, deciding what she wants to wear though not having to look for long.

She throws on some shorts and a t-shirt, socks, and a pair of tennis shoes before stepping back out and heading toward the bathroom, hoping that nobody else is occupying it at the moment. To her luck, once she's out of her room, she finds it empty and strolls inside, closing the door behind her and flicking the light switch up.

After flushing the toilet and washing her hands, she does everything in her morning routine before walking out into the hall and heading down the stairs, instantly catching the whiff of a pleasant scent wafting from the kitchen. Farrah takes notice of her granddaughter entering the doorway and sends her a welcoming smile as she takes a pan of biscuits out of the oven.

"Good morning, hun," she chirps, removing her oven mitts and turning to face her. "How did you sleep?" Y\n walks closer and shrugs, remembering the endless, dull scenery and the eerie voice whispering those words to her in her head.

"I mean... I had a pretty unsettling dream but, other than that, I slept fine." Farrah hums and tilts her head slightly. "What about you, Nana?"

"A lot more peacefully now that I know you're here under the same roof," she replies, giving her a brief hug, which Y\n gladly returns. "So, you hungry? I made breakfast!" Y\n glances over at the stovetop and nearly drools when she sees freshly-cooked bacon resting on a plate, scrambled eggs in a skillet, and the same pan of biscuits placed beside them. She can feel her stomach start to rumble the more she stares at it, so she just nods over-enthusiastically and goes to retrieve a plate and fork from where they were set on the island in preparation.

"This all looks delicious, Nana," she comments, scooping some eggs onto her plate after getting several pieces of fried pork. Her eyes meet Farrah's, and she sends her a grateful look. "Thanks for making it all."

"Oh, it was no trouble at all, just like you, my dear, are no trouble at all." She pats her affectionately on the head before sliding her hand down to cup her cheek and smiling. "Now go eat your food and enjoy it." Y\n nods, taking a step back and laying the plate full of food on the counter, aiming to get butter and jelly out of the fridge. She also grabs a spoon and butter knife afterward, using them to smear the two substances across the soft inside of her biscuits before grabbing her plate once again and strolling through the living area and into the dining room.

She pulls a chair out from under the table and takes her seat, anxious to get some food in her stomach and finally start her day. Farrah soon appears with her own platter of breakfast and sits beside her, the two chatting about various things as they eat, and time seems to fly by. At around 10:25, Y\n rises from the chair and heads back to the kitchen, feeling properly filled-up as she rinses her dishes.

Her gaze averts to the window behind the sink, being greeted by the bright morning sunlight and the colorful scenery that she doesn’t get the advantage of seeing in the city, where she, unfortunately, was born and raised. She spots her grandfather, sitting in an old chair out on the lawn and admiring nature at its finest, seemingly lost in thought.

Allowing a fond smile to stretch across her face, she dries her hands on a towel hanging from a rack before poking her head back into the living room. “Hey, Nana…”

“Yes, hun?” She twists her body around slightly to meet Y\n’s eyes in curiosity, and Y\n grips the door frame with her hand and leans forward, letting her arm keep her stabilized so she doesn’t fall over.

“I think I’m gonna go outside for a while if you don’t need me here for anything.” Farrah nods.

“That’s a good idea, Marshmallow needs to be let out, anyway.” As if on cue, the fluffy feline walks down the stairs, tail high in the air and head raised as he jumps to the floor and stops in front of the closed door, sitting down and looking at Y\n expectantly. “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, glancing down at Marshmallow and meeting his bright blue orbs. “I was just thinking about going on a walk, or something.”

“Yes, some fresh air will do you good after breathing all of that polluted city stuff.” She takes a sip of her coffee thoughtfully. "Just be careful and keep an eye out for bears. Or anything dangerous, for that matter."

"Yes, ma'am." She nods in understanding and steps over to the door, opening both it and the screen and allowing Marshmallow to prance through and onto the porch, likely eager to go about his daily hunt and roam. Following behind him and shutting the door behind her, a warm, familiar breeze hits her in the face as she does so, and she once again averts her eyes over to Phil. "Good morning, Pops." Her voice raises just enough to get his attention, and sure enough, his head turns her direction before the corner of his lips quirk upward in a cheery smile.

"Hey, hummingbird! Did you sleep okay?" She bites the inside of her cheek and leisurely makes her way down the stone path leading toward the gate. Thinking back to her eldritch dream, she stuffs her hands in her pockets and answers quietly.

"As well as I could, I guess..." Though when he doesn't seem to hear her, she rewords her sentence and speaks up. "I slept fine. What about you?"

"Ah, well. You know how it is with all these old joints and bones. They never give you a break."

"Sorry." She breathes a sympathetic laugh. "But I can't say I have any experience in that field." He releases a snort in response and leans back in the old patio chair, raising a thick, bushy eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's 'cause you're a spring chicken. Trust me darlin', the years'll catch up to you eventually. And then you'll look like me." He pats his rotund belly for emphasis, and she rolls her eyes playfully and can't stop the amused huff from exiting her lips.

"I'm sure I will, Pops."

"Where are ya going?" She unlatches the gate and glances at him before nodding her head in the direction of the opaque forest surrounding the quaint property.

"Walking. I thought I'd try to... get a better feel for this place, again." She notices his face seems to soften ever so slightly, and he briefly looks past the many tall trees, into the shaded woods, and lets a breath out of his nose before meeting her gaze once more.

"I'm sorry you haven't been here to visit, Y\n." Her chest constricts and she shifts her eyes down to the ground uncomfortably. "It's not right for your dad- your parents- to put themselves before you. They shouldn't treat you the way they do. I wish you'd let me do something about it." She only shrugs solemnly, her mood doing a one-eighty and dropping to the floor, though she tries to mask it and instead forces a smile on her face that she hopes is reassuring.

"It's isn't your fault. Dad's just... just a jerk and Mom is..." She sees it's difficult to find correct words to describe her mother, and after a moment to think, shakes her head dismissively. "They-they have issues. But yeah, don't be sorry, I'm okay. Two more years and I'll be outta there, anyway."

"Well... you're more than welcome to stay here, for as long as you need. It gets lonely around here without anyone visiting us." She brushes a strand of h\c hair out of her eyes and tilts her head curiously.

"Nobody visits you? Not even Aunt Darcy?" Her stomach does a concerned flip when she sees his facial expression turn from mildly sympathetic to alarmed in an instant, and her eyebrows furrow, questions zipping through her mind at lightning speed. His hands, she notices, clench the arms of the chair and his breathing seems to have quickened, if only slightly. "Pops...?"

"I-I, uh..." He lets an anxious breath flow out of his mouth as he runs his wrinkled fingers through his hair. "Yeah, no, your aunt doesn't come. She hasn't, not in a while..." Y\n can sense the tension in this conversation, and how strange Phil's sudden change in behavior is. Hesitantly, she speaks, her voice low.

"Wh-why? Did you guys fight or something?" Although she hasn't seen her aunt in over five years, she still remembers her clearly, and she knows that she wouldn't ever willingly avoid Phil and Farrah. Unlike Darcy's brother, she isn't a sour person and wouldn't let something as ridiculous as a disagreement get in the way of their relationship, especially since her son Wyatt always loved hanging around here.

"No." He shakes his head lightly and refuses to meet the e\c eyes of the girl as he collects his thoughts and puts them into words. "Look... we'll talk about it later, alright? You just go and enjoy your walk." He dismisses her with a wave of his hand, though she doesn't move, and instead stares at him with an obscure expression painted across her face.

"What's wrong, Pops? Did something bad happen?"

"It's fine, sweetheart," he reassures, his tone vagarious. "Be careful out there. Don't want to get mauled by a wild dog, do ya?"

"Gee, what a pleasant thought," she mutters sarcastically, but figures that he isn't going to give her the answers that she so desperately craves at this point. I'll try my luck with Nana when I get back, she thinks, letting out a dismayed sigh before stepping through the gate and locking it back. "No, sir. I'll be careful."

When she receives no response, she turns on her heel and heads toward where she remembers the old trail used to be, the previous subject heavy on her mind. That was weird. Has Darcy really not come to visit her parents at all? For how long? She supposes that she has been gone for a very prolonged amount of time and she's sure to have missed some things, but just how important are these things? Something obviously happened between her grandparents and her aunt. But what? Hopefully, she'll get a reasonable answer when she comes back.

She walks under the willow tree beside the cottage and is unable to stop herself from glancing down the road, where her mom and dad disappeared a mere day ago and left her behind with the parents that her father absolutely refuses to talk to, reconnect with in any way, all because of a petty argument.

Nah. She narrows her eyes in indignation. He's just always been selfish. And unfair. And a terrible person. That 'argument' was just what pushed him over the edge. What even was their argument about? She wracks her mind but can't seem to recall any moment where her dad actually explained what was going on, not to her, anyway. In fact, the only time he graced her with an answer at all was when she gathered up the courage to ask him why they haven't visited Nana and Pops in so long. She believes that she had just turned twelve a few weeks prior when she became curious about it and walked up to him one day in the living room.

"Hey, Dad?" He hadn't even looked up at her. Didn't give any attention to his only child. "Daddy?"

"What do you want." It came out as more of a demand than it was an actual question. Still, he didn't look up at her, and she had taken a seat beside him on the couch.

"Um, I was just wondering... we haven't seen Nana and Pops in a while-" She cut herself off when she was met with the sharp, threatening glare of her father, becoming instantly uncomfortable as she stared back uncertainly. It had taken her off-guard, as she had never seen her dad's eyes as cold as they were at that moment. Especially when they were looking at her.

"I don't want to hear anything about them." The way he had said that sentence made her heart drop in concern, and she flashed him a bewildered look.

"...What? Wh-why?"

"Don't ask questions. Just don't mention them." Puzzled would have been a good word for how Y\n was feeling at that moment. Thoughts were swarming her mind, and despite the hard, final tone of voice her father had, she continued.

"But... they're your parents? A-and I miss them. Don't you miss them, too? It's been almost a year-"

"What'd I say?" He snapped at her, his lips pressed together into a firm, angered line. "Don't. Mention. Them."

"Dad-"

"My God, you're more persistent than your mother." He shot her a disappointed look, though she only craned her neck to the side.

"What's wrong...?"

"Arguments, Y\n. Arguments about crap that doesn't concern you." She couldn't stop herself from flinching slightly at the harshness of his words.

"Dad..."

"Stop talking and go to your room." When she stayed still, looking at him with wide, questioning eyes, he released a huff of irritation. "Now."

Shaking her head disapprovingly at the distant memory, she eventually rediscovers the path that she traversed down so many times, back when she was merely a child, before she had so many problems in her life. It appears to have not been used in quite a while, as there are weeds growing up from the ground, low-hanging branches swooping down and entangling together, making a sort of archway. The grass is extremely overgrown, and just by looking at it, she would guess that each blade would have to be around three feet high.

She suddenly looks down at her bare legs, a little nervous about stepping through the tall grass likely housing ticks and traced with thorns. Maybe I should've worn jeans instead... Letting out a defeated sigh, she cautiously steps through the tall, twisty foliage, trying her best to avoid getting scratched by a brier or catching her foot in a weed and tripping.

She glances up and ahead of her, feeling relieved that the shrubbery thins out just a few feet down the path and should be easily manageable. She just has to get there in one piece. Carefully, she takes several slow steps forward, the grass tickling her legs each time she moves, though she brushes it off and focuses on making it through.

Should’ve brought some branch cutters or something. After a couple of minutes, she arrives in a less hazardous area, and instinctively reaches down to brush her legs and feet off, just in case there are some bugs that may have been taking refuge on them, though to her ease, finds none. She places her hands into her pockets and continues her stroll through the peaceful forest, savoring the natural sounds erupting from all around her.

The chirps of the birds and rustling of leaves create a relaxing cadence; a sound that she rarely ever gets the pleasure of hearing. She only just realizes how much she missed being here, able to roam around, enjoy the area without the interruption of her parents, city life, or just drama in general. Letting out a tranquil sigh, she wonders how long she can stay here. How long will her parents be gone? It isn't like they care about her absence anyway, that much is apparent. The only reason they'd come back is because of their work, their fancy jobs working for some billionaire company that Y\n could care less about. Sure, they make a pretty good living off of it, and it isn't the worst job in the world, but it takes up all of their life. At least when she was little they made time for her, but now? They don't even bat an eye in her direction.

Do they even still love me? It's a question she's asked herself a multitude of times throughout the last few months, but the answer was always too painful to accept. They haven't said it since... since I was fourteen. She remembers it clearly. It was her fourteenth birthday, they had a cool party, her best friends came, back when she still had some, and her parents took a little time to make her feel special, which, even at that point, was a rare trait to exhibit. But they did it.

Her father had hugged her and told her that she's beautiful, her mother had stroked her hair, explaining to her how much she meant to her. That she loved her. It was the last wholesome moment they ever shared together, and thinking about that makes her chest ache with loneliness. Although she wants to think that she still holds a special place in their hearts, she knows that the odds aren't in her favor.

She allows a sad chuckle to exit her l\c lips as she shakes her head. Oh, well. A girl can dream, right?

___

The masked male walks swiftly through the dense forest, staying attentive as he listens to everything around him. The quiet tweets of blue jays, the rustling of leaves, the flow of a nearby stream- all normal. Which is good. That means nothing out-of-the-ordinary is lurking around, following him. At least, nothing that isn't remaining silent. But he's grown accustomed to his surroundings, and he's confident that he'd be able to recognize a threat, whatever form it may take, from wherever it may have been hiding at.

He feels his phone vibrate from within the confines of his pocket and inwardly rolls his eyes. That's the fifth time in the last three minutes that Ben has texted him. He's sure that he's still going on about how something is "urgent" and that he has to "get here ASAP". What does he think he's doing? Moving at a snail's pace? Ben's house is over half a mile away from his own, and he's only been walking for about five minutes. No matter how speedy and agile he can be, he still isn't Superman. Shouldn't Ben know that? Moving from one place to another takes time.

After around two more minutes, he finally sees the old cabin come into view, shrouded by vines, weeds, and various other greenery. To oblivious, inexperienced eyes, it's nearly undetectable, which is perfect. It doesn't draw attention, which is something that Hoody, among others, greatly prefer. Any poor soul that may wander this far into the woods and see it, or any of the others, will be taken care of. Immediately. They can't take a risk. It would be too dangerous.

By the time the phone buzzes a sixth time, Hoody is already coming to a stop in front of the rustic-looking door that's made of the same taupe ash wood as the rest of the house, with some minor improvements to better ensure safety. The whole place, whether one's standing from afar or looking at it close-up, seems like it would be very insubstantial and a hazard to be around, much less live in. But in all reality, it makes quite a good home for the two that take residence there, and it's most definitely safer than it may first appear to be, thanks to a few key individuals and their useful carpenter abilities.

He knocks quietly on the hard surface, stuffing his hands inside of his pockets and waiting patiently for Ben to stop hounding him with text messages, notice that he's right outside, and allow him in. Shouldn't he already know where he is? That's why he installed one hundred cameras around the area, right? To observe what's happening without having to leave the comfort of his chair? Or perhaps that's what he wants to see Hoody about; complain that his cameras are malfunctioning and ask for assistance. Though he doesn't know how much he'll be able to assist him because he doesn't have half the knowledge that Ben has regarding electronics. But he'll do what he can if it means getting one of their main lines of defense up and running again.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when yet another message comes through his phone and makes it vibrate against his leg, a feeling he's really beginning to get irritated by. Releasing a muffled sigh and deciding it would be better to just check whatever text he just received instead of ignoring it altogether, he pulls out the small device, and swipes down on the notification tab, seeing not six, but ten unread messages from the teenager himself, all of which consist of either "where are you?", "you gotta get here quickly", or "hurry your butt up, you depressed son of a cracker".

"Ah, screw you, too," he mutters to the screen, knowing full well that its target won't be able to hear him. Unless he has the audio turned on and is secretly listening to him talk. The little creep, he can't help but think before he finally reaches the last and most recent message.

Just come in, the door's unlocked

Obeying the message, he grips the knob of the door with his gloved hand and gives it one swift turn, pushing once he hears a small 'click' and entering the cozy-looking household while shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans where it rightfully belongs. The interior is nothing special; a kitchen with a small bar and plenty of counter space to spare to the right, a living room with an old, dingy-looking sofa, a couple of chairs, and a coffee table to the left, and a narrow hallway straight ahead, which has five different doors leading to five different places. Two of them lead to bedrooms, one a bathroom, one a laundry room, and the one at the very end is an entrance into the basement, also known as Ben's office.

Shutting the door behind him, he ventures farther into the familiar area, counting on the sunbeams currently shining through the dirty windows to light his path and take him to his destination. Where is his destination? Not able to see Ben nor his roommate anywhere, he assumes that either one or both have to be in the basement, so he begins his trek through the darkened hall until he reaches the closed door, once again wrapping his hand around the metal knob and giving it a firm twist before it creaks open, giving him access into the electronically-lit room below.

He can hear faint voices getting louder as he calmly walks down the staircase, one reasonably deep and the other about a pitch or so higher. He descends downward until reaching the ground, glancing to his left and being met with two easily-recognizable figures due to their odd features.

One of them is sat rather comfortably in a computer chair that he no doubt stole from Amazon, his blond hair swept to the side in a messy, boyish style. He sports a pair of converse, black skinny jeans, a dark green Halo 5 t-shirt, and a beanie. His appearance would be startlingly normal if he lacked the glowing, red eyes and the tears of blood that slowly cascade down his deathly pale cheeks.

Standing leaned against the wall next to him is someone nearly three feet taller, body clothed in all black save for the navy blue mask that covers his face and the strands of copper-brown hair sticking out from under his hood. His eyes are nothing but soulless, empty pits that replace where his once chestnut ones used to be, the sockets constantly leaking a thick black substance similar to that of tar and leaving sticky trails down his mask.

Both heads turn to look at Hoody when he appears behind them, and Ben instantly jumps up, his shorter-than-average height noticeable, especially when compared to taller people, like Hoody and Jack. "It's about time you get here, slowpoke!"

Ignoring the comment, the man clad in a mustard-yellow hoodie crosses his arms impatiently and eyes the one in the corner of the room for a moment before turning his attention back on the blond in front of him. "Now, what exactly was so important that it couldn't wait a couple of hours?" His voice is low and calm, but authoritative, and Ben glances at Jack anxiously.

"We think that egg head is going after someone else to make his slave." Hoody raises a brow beneath his ski mask and gazes down at the boy curiously.

"How do you know?"

"Cause Jack's been getting these-these, um, feelings? For a while. I don't know, wh-what kind of feelings, like-like bad kind of, weird and freaky feelings, maybe since a week or so ago, then he walked by somebody after, y'know, stocking up on his, uhm, diet... and he said they emitted a really strong, like, odor? Or something? And then-"

"Ben," Hoody speaks, cutting the boy off in the middle of his sentence and ultimately silencing him. "Just let Jack explain it." His lips part to say something, though he only lets out a quiet huff after a moment before plopping back down in front of the multiple monitors of different areas in the forest and leaning backward in a sulking manner. "Right." He sighs and signals for Jack to begin speaking, to which he nods and complies.

"I've been feeling... strange, lately," he starts, his voice deep and muffled though decipherable nonetheless. His hands are stuffed into his hoodie pockets as he lightly boosts himself off of the wall with his foot and stands at his full height. "A kind of... tingling, in my chest and mind, but not a good one. More of a... ominous kinda tingling, like something bad is about to happen, or someone's fixing to get hurt. But I don't know who."

Hoody processes this newly-received information and listens with keen ears, inquisitively waiting for the eyeless man to continue.

"But earlier today, after leaving a house, this feeling got a lot stronger. And it was really sudden, like, it just hit me. I couldn't figure out what was happening until after I looked around a bit and noticed someone walking down some grown-out path. And somehow, immediately after I saw her, I knew that she was in danger."

"Wait, wait, wait," Ben interrupts, holding out his hands in a silencing gesture. "It was a girl? You didn't tell me that."

"Because I was waiting to inform the more mature ones who actually focus on the situation rather than something as ridiculous as gender," he remarks, making Ben scoff. Hoody, ignoring Ben altogether, turns to completely face Jack in order to further question him about the somewhat surprising matter, neck craned to the side slightly.

"Okay, but why does this mean that it's connected somehow to him? Did she cough? Did you hear any static?" He merely shakes his head in the negative.

"No. I just know that something sinister is going on and that feeling I've been getting the past couple of days is definitely coming from her. Just an evil, dangerous aura surrounded her, which is why I'm sure that he's involved." Hoody rubs at his head, finding it hard to doubt a word that Jack's saying. He's never been one to lie, after all, and being a reincarnated version of his former self gives him certain... supernatural abilities, that others don't have. Not even the two ghosts of their group.

He stands there a moment, still and quiet as his mind swarms with questions, before looking at the navy blue mask but having to avoid direct eye-contact with the empty sockets in his face due to making him feel uncomfortable. Not that it can be seen, anyway. "Um... alright, well. What do you suggest we do about it?" He earns an unsure shrug in response.

"I guess we could just eliminate her. It would throw off whatever his plan is and get her out of the cycle before she inevitably gets hurt."

"Unless he brings her back," he points out. "Then she'd be more powerful and we'd have another one to fight against."

"That... does make sense. But we can't just leave her there to become a victim. Either she'll accept him or he kills her. Which would just be one more innocent wiped out by his hands."

"We could bring her back here!" Ben suddenly speaks up, once again rising out of his seat and painting a confident look across his ghostly features. "I mean, she wouldn't be in immediate danger and we could tell her what's going on so she knows what to do and what to avoid."

"But then she'd be endangering us." He shoves his hands back into his pockets and takes a step closer. “And what if she’s already under his influence, huh? We’d be leading him straight toward us and there’s no way we’re strong enough nor do we have the numbers to fight him and his group of freaks.”

“Yeah, but what if she’s not? I mean, we need the extra set of hands, anyway. She could be useful!”

“At what cost? The lives and freedom of everyone here? It would be stupid to bring her here, especially since we don’t know anything about her.”

“Jack!” Ben turns his attention to the tall, lanky man standing silent, hoping to get somewhere with him. “You’re the demon here, so is she dangerous?” He plants his masked face in the palm of his hand in the universal sign of ‘oh my God, you’re an idiot’ before answering, his voice low.

“I don’t know, Ben. She seemed totally normal, but I didn’t get a very good look.”

“There ya go, boomer.” His red pupils shift back up to look at Hoody, his eyebrows raised. “She’s not dangerous. We can bring her.”

“For the record, I’m only six years older than you,” he starts, attempting to bite down his exasperation with the teenager and speaking with a level tone, to which he receives an eye roll. “And Jack didn’t say she wasn’t dangerous, he just said she looked normal. They’re two totally different things.”

“Whatever.” He places his hands behind his head carelessly. “I still vote that we bring her here.”

“We’ll ask the others and get their opinions. Jack,” His head turns to look at the mentioned boy, “is there anything else I should know about these ‘feelings’ or the girl you saw?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay then. Ben, call everyone and tell them to meet up at my place within the next thirty minutes.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument, and without question, Ben whips out his, now slightly outdated, cellphone and begins to text each person in his contacts exactly what Hoody told him to say.

“Oh, by the way, I fixed your phone.” He pulls out a small flip-phone from his pocket and tosses it to Jack, and he effortlessly catches it and slides it into his pocket, muttering a ‘thanks’ while he does so. Hoody turns to leave, though before he starts climbing the stairs he speaks once more.

“You both need to come, too. We all need to discuss this and figure something out before tomorrow.” They nod in reply, and he disappears from their sight.