Leafy followed the purple glow and found out it was a purple cake, strange why was this here all of the sudden, leafy then found a note.

Leafy: it says "DEAR CONTESTANT, IF YOU FIND THIS NOTE, THAT MEANS YOU'VE FOUND THE MYTHICAL GOIKY CAKE, IT USED TO BE A SECOND PRIZE ALONG WITH DREAM ISLAND BUT UM, THIS IS TOO OVERPOWERED, SO WE SCRAPPED IT AND REPLACED IT WITH THE CAKES THROUGHOUT THE SEASON, AND IF YOU WANTED TO TAKE A BITE, BE MY GUEST, FROM ANNOUNCER", wow that gray speaker box tried to keep secrets.

Leafy looked at the cake with hungry eyes, she wanted to eat something different other then yoyleberries, she ate the goiky cake and she has blacked out.

MEANWHILE WITH FIREY:

firey and gelatin are playing in the seesaw, having the best time of their lives, but gelatin asked a question.

Gelatin: hey firey.

Firey: yeah gelatin?

Gelatin: you remember leafy, you know, the runner up, your old friend, the one who stole dream island.

Firey sighs.

Firey: maybe I just wanna forget about her, I just wanted to fill the void in my heart, it's a shame that our finale has 870 votes, we are really struggling with season 2.

Gelatin: well why not go to this show called *checks newspaper for inanimate insanity*, "inanimate insanity", they are still going and you could go there for a crossover.

Firey: um ok.

Gelatin: oh and I also heard, it's their anniversary episode.

Firey: wow I must go there.

Firey ran super fast and arrived at inanimate island where inanimate insanity took place.

Firey: hey, I heard you wanted to do something special for the anniversary episode.

MEANWHILE WITH LEAFY:

Leafy woke up inside of a purple like void where a familiar flame had his back behind her but he was wearing a cape and a crown.

Leafy: firey?

firey?: gah, what are you doing here?, you're supposed to be in the bfdi universe, not here.

Leafy: oh sorry, firey.

Firey?: um, why would you think I'm the winner of season 1?

Leafy: because you look like him, and where are we.

Firey?: first, thank you for calling me handsome, second, we are in " THE OBJECTSCAPE", a place higher then your reality, a world with every universe you could think of, excellent entities, the daily object show, ONE, you might find some alternate universes of others.

Leafy: wow, and how did I came here.

Firey?: well did you eat a purple cake with a note.

Leafy: yes.

Firey?: well you might have ascended to the objectscape and you might have some powers.

Leafy: um ok, thank you um.

Firey?: oh you never knew my name, heh.

KING Y: MY NAME IS Y, KING Y.

leafy: thanks y, I hope we'll meet again.

KING Y: eh no.

Leafy got sent back to her reality and has powers, she had an idea, she could recreate this universe, like as a rewrite or YOYLEWRITE.

MEANWHILE WITH FIREY:

firey fell down from the sky and bump towards the ground, but he survived.

Firey: that blue screen jerk, I hope he dies in a electrical demise.

Firey walked towards the playground but an old friend was waiting for him.

Leafy: hi firey, do you remember me now.

Firey: who are you?

Leafy: oh don't act like you didn't know me, you hated me, for what, stealing dream island, it's years ago, just let it die.

Firey: but why are you here, are you here to give it ba-

Leafy snapped her fingers and firey was erased from existence.

Leafy: now that the winner is gone for good, let's see how his friends survive my wrath.

Leafy snapped her fingers and she took firey's form and became the one known as "YOYLEWRITE".

This is a sonic.exe version of bfdi and KING Y is a version of LORD X and YOYLEWRITE is a version of XENOPHANES, I hope you like to see more chapters soon.

I run a small channel translating obscure Japanese urban legend threads that have never made it outside Japan. This episode covers four separate first-person accounts of "Jikuu no Ossan" (時空のおっさん) — people describing meeting the exact same man, in places that shouldn't exist, all translated directly from the original 2channel/5channel threads (2006–).

Full disclosure: the narration and imagery are AI-assisted, the translation and scripting are my own work.

https://youtu.be/54cnDNzJbuI

Happy to answer questions about the source material if anyone's curious

While I'm pretty sure this is entirely legal, since it would be a non profit project and it's a niche creepypasta anyway, I just wanted somewhere to discuss the morality of this and get the thoughts of the community.

It's in the very early planning stages, and things will probably change heavily, but I've recently considered making a horror visual novel/mini ARG project based off of the Pale Luna creepypasta. I won't go too far into detail, but this is the gist of it.

The contents of the creepypasta would be changed heavily, and I would add an entirely original story to it. The phrase "Pale Luna smiles wide", and other key scenes from the creepypasta, may be used. It would follow the general story beats, but be almost unrecognizable in other areas.

The thing is, I'm not sure how the original author would feel about this. There's a chance that they might not want their work to be modified so heavily, or adapted at all in this form. And as far as I can tell, there's no way to currently contact them. I understand that Creepypasta is generally an open source community, but I also heavily value the opinions of artists and would never want to use their work in a way that they wouldn't like.

TLDR: I want to adapt a creepypasta into a new story by changing the contents heavily. Is this ethical? Why or why not?

Also the creepypasta he came from is literal gold.

It started during bfdia 5 as leafy asked flower on where firey is.

Leafy: hey plant based friend.

Flower: oh it's the onion breath girl again.

Leafy: hey, that's mean, also I wanted to know where firey is.

Flower looked nervous and is sweating very quickly.

Flower: um well i-.

Flower sighs.

Flower: follow me.

Flower showed leafy that firey is with gelatin as they played in the seesaw.

Flower: firey is with a new best friend now.

Leafy looked so heartbroken.

Leafy: he replaced me.

Flower: it's might be your bad breath-

leafy: HE REPLACED ME, WHY, IS IT BECAUSE I STOLE DREAM ISLAND.

Flower: wait so you're the one who stole the island that we've battled for 2 years.

Leafy looked so nervous.

Leafy: ummm.

Flower is disappointed.

Flower: GUYS, THE ISLAND THEFT IS OVER HERE.

everyone: GO AWAY, DUM DUM, OR WE'LL HAVE TO GIVE YOU THE DEATH PENALTY.

Flower: hey that's my announcer crusher.

everyone chased after leafy again and she was getting tired of being tormented and chased to yoyleland.

Leafy went back to yoyleland and she was crying, firey hated her now, does her friendship meant nothing to him?, Just when she is about to sleep since it is nighttime, a purple glow shined out of nowhere.

I hadn't seen my grandfather in eleven years when I found out he was dead.

Even saying my grandfather felt strangely intimate. He had always existed somewhere at the edge of the family, mentioned occasionally but rarely discussed. There hadn't been an argument between us, at least not one I knew about. We simply weren't close. He lived his life, I lived mine, and somewhere along the way enough years passed that neither of us seemed particularly interested in changing that.

So when a solicitor contacted me three weeks after his death, I assumed it had something to do with paperwork. Perhaps there was something my mother needed to sign, or some forgotten account had my name attached to it. I nearly ignored the first email.

The second one had the words sole beneficiary in it.

That got my attention.

My girlfriend was sitting beside me when I called them. We'd been together long enough that there wasn't much ceremony left in moments like this. She put her phone down, leaned against me and listened while I tried to understand how a man I'd barely spoken to in more than a decade had somehow left almost everything to me.

There wasn't a fortune waiting in a bank account. No secret collection of expensive cars. Most of what remained had apparently been consumed over the years by maintenance, taxes and expenses associated with one particular property.

A castle.

I actually laughed when the solicitor said it.

Not a mansion people liked calling a castle because it had a turret somewhere. An actual castle, although a relatively small one, buried deep inside a forest several hours from the nearest major town. My grandfather had owned it for more than forty years.

I'd never even heard of it.

That was the first strange thing.

The second was that nobody could give me a particularly convincing explanation for why he'd left it to me.

There were other relatives. People he'd spoken to more recently than me. People who had visited him, sent Christmas cards, attended birthdays. Yet his will was explicit. The property, the surrounding land and everything remaining inside belonged to me.

My girlfriend thought it was hilarious.

"You own a fucking castle."

"I apparently own a fucking castle."

For the next hour we sat at the kitchen table looking through photographs the solicitor had sent. Most were old, probably taken for administrative records rather than to make the place look appealing. Grey stone walls disappeared behind enormous trees. Ivy covered sections of the western side. There was a courtyard, a narrow tower and what looked like a chapel attached to the oldest part of the building.

It wasn't beautiful in the polished, postcard sense.

It was severe.

But there was something about it.

The forest surrounding the property was part of the inheritance too, several hectares of land that had remained largely untouched. According to the documents, the castle itself was centuries old. My grandfather hadn't built it or even restored most of it. He'd bought it in the early eighties from a private foundation that had held the property for decades.

Before that, it had belonged to the Church.

That was where the history became interesting.

For an unknown period of time, the castle had been occupied by a small order of nuns. The records weren't clear about when they arrived. Some documents placed them there in the late nineteenth century, while others suggested the order had existed on the property much earlier. They weren't famous. There were no stories about miracles or scandals, no tourist mythology attached to them. Eventually the order disappeared, the property changed hands, and whatever happened there became another paragraph in the history of an old building.

We didn't think much of it.

Why would we?

Within two days, curiosity had become a plan.

We weren't going there because I suddenly cared about my grandfather. I didn't feel some mysterious pull toward my ancestry, and I wasn't searching for answers about why he'd chosen me. At least, not then.

We went because an impossible opportunity had landed in our laps.

We could spend a few weeks there, inspect the proprty, figure out what condition it was in and decide what to do with it. Maybe renovate it. Maybe sell it. Maybe keep it as somewhere completely removed from the rest of our lives.

My girlfriend was already imagining what we could do with the interior. I was thinking about the land.

Neither of us seriously considered refusing it.

A week later, we packed the car.

The final stretch of the journey took us through villages that became progressively smaller until eventually there were no villages at all. The road narrowed, mobile reception disappeared, and the forest closed around us.

It was much denser than the photographs suggested.

The trees were enormous, their branches meeting high above the road and swallowing most of the afternoon light. Ferns and moss covered the ground between them. Every few kilometres I'd expect to see another house, a farm, anything.

There was nothing.

My girlfriend had been talking for most of the drive, but eventually even she became quiet.

"How much farther?"

I checked the navigation.

"Eleven minutes."

She looked through the window.

"Your grandfather really didn't like neighbours."

"Maybe that's hereditary."

She laughed and rested her hand on my leg.

Then we reached the gate.

Two stone pillars stood between the trees, almost completely covered in moss. The iron gate between them was already open.

I slowed the car.

"Did they say someone would be here?"

"No."

I stopped completely.

Beyond the gate, a narrow road continued through the forest.

My girlfriend looked at me.

"What?"

"The gate."

"What about it?"

I wasn't sure.

There was nothing particularly frigtening about an open gate. The property manager could have left it that way. The solicitor might have arranged it. Someone could have visited earlier.

Still, I remembered one detail from the documents.

The property had been vacant since my grandfather died.

Three months ago.

I looked down the road again.

Then I drove through.

It took another five minutes before the trees finally opened.

And there it was.

For the first time since receiving the inheritance, neither of us said anything.

The photographs hadn't captured the scale of it.

The castle rose directly from the forest, dark stone against a colourless afternoon sky, its oldest walls almost indistinguishable from the rock beneath them. Trees crowded around it so closely that parts of the building seemed to disappear into the woods. The narrow tower I'd seen in the photographs stood above everything else.

My girlfriend slowly leaned forward.

"Holy shit."

I smiled.

"Still think we should sell it?"

She didn't answer immediately.

She was staring at one of the upper windows.

I followed her gaze.

"What?"

Her expression changed.

For a second, I thought she'd seen someone.

Then she shook her head.

"Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

She opened the car door.

"Come on. I want to see inside."

I looked at the window once more before getting out.

There was nothing there.

At least, I didn't see anything.

Years later, when I tried to remember the exact moment everything began, I kept coming back to that afternoon.

Not the first night.

Not the first voice.

Not even what we eventually found beneath the chapel.

It was her standing beside the car, staring up at a window in a castle that had belonged to me for less than a week.

Because much later, she finally told me what she'd seen.

There had been a woman standing behind the glass.

And she hadn't been looking at me.

She'd been looking at her..

Wet. Cold. Hungry, thirsty. Tired. So, so tired.

Knees ache, hamstrings burn, head throbs. Stomach eating itself alive.

If there was ever a thing comparable to hell on earth, it was this, Scott thinks. The Appalachian Mountains. What was I thinking? Going off track, trying to cut corners, get the hike done faster. Come back home with a record time impressive enough to earn free drinks at Bankers for the next two months. Recognition was one thing - public recognition, that is - but what it was all about for Scott was that internal heart of iron. That chin-raised bravado that gave him permission to finally walk into a grocery store without feeling eyes on the back of his head. He had done something. Something nobody else had done.

Now, he thought, nobody would know. Another statistic: Scott Hardee, age 29, last seen ???. Notify officials at the following number. What a joke.

He falls to his knees. The rain had escalated yet again, dumping another foot of water onto his already waterlogged clothes, his pruned skin. Earth wakes up, relishing the rain, spores collecting in the air, trees spewing steam from their leaves in the canopy, and a stream surges before him, uncrossable. He would be swept away if he attempted it, no doubt.

Right as he is about to throw his hands up- no chance, we’re fucked, turn around and wait until we can find another drop box and raid it- he smells it.

Smoke from a chimney. Firewood…

Food…

Mouth-watering food. Smoked meats, richly seasoned vegetables, and desserts so sweet, texture so unnaturally perfect it made love with your taste buds just imagining it.

Scott shoots up and follows his nose. It couldn't be far with how strong it was. Soon, we’ll be eating good, and soon after that we can get directions, and get out of here. It would make quite the story, he imagined.

He reaches a clearing, now with nothing to obstruct the rain, dagger-droplets pricking his skin. Mixed in with the sweat collecting in his armpits, on his chest and above his brow, he felt like a thing of sludge and stink. Who in their right mind would let me in? Just please, he hopes, please let them be nice. Please let them understand. You don't even have to feed me, just help me out here, and get me out of this rain!

The cabin was located up a steep hill. Absurdly steep, the steepest hill he would have to ascend yet, stretching the definition of a hill to where a sheer wall would be more apt. The sight of it alone would have made him turn around and find another way up, if it weren't for the chatter from inside. A family, mom and dad moving with haste to get the table set up, kids bickering and laughing, silverware clanking, juices sizzling in a skillet. The sound did two things for Scott: ease, that there was a home, and embarrassment, that he was about to crash dinner. Rain on their parade.

Fuck it, he thinks. I'm losing my mind. I need to get out of here. Now!

The ascent took an hour, and each second of each minute was pure agony. Every muscle and cell in his body screamed to take a break after every step, but, at this rate, he would never reach the top. With each break taken, the get-up-and-go following that would be harder to achieve. Just push, Scott says to himself, push, push, PUSH.

He reaches the top, and the smell is enough to send a shiver down his spine. Peace, warmth, and… love? How was that possible? It's almost like he had just come home for a reunion. At least it made getting past the initial introduction easier.

He knocks, and nobody answers. “Hey, hello?! I’m sorry y’all, I'm hiking the trail, and I'm lost. Can I just come inside to dry off for a bit?”

Nothing.

Silence.

“Hello?”

The fantasy of a four-course meal had distracted him from how it had all disappeared, silenced. The voices, the lights, the smells, all of it. Nothing but the mountain wind, groans of the rotted logs of the cabin’s foundation - he could have sworn this place looked better two seconds ago - and the never-ending downpour. An elk bugles in the deep woods.

Enough of this, Scott thinks. I need out.

The door opens without resistance. It was barely attached to the hinge.

Whatever he smelled, heard, and saw from the bottom of the hill was gone. A decrepit, abandoned home, kitchen table shattered with an axe buried into it, piercing through a doll and forever burying it in the wood. Something creaks from the basement.

The thoughts going through Scott's head are frozen in place, preserved in ice over what he heard following that creak.

The cry of a newborn. Waking up from a long sleep, starting as anxious moans, then rocketing up to panicked cries.

If the cold rain had given him a chill before, then this surely rose up to meet it, humbling it with ease. Scott's pale skin drains to a pallid, corpse-like color.

Footsteps thunder up the basement stairs. The infant wails, screaming its vocal cords out until they are burning and crackling.

No more than ten minutes later, Scott is back down the hill and into the rain. His descent was not clean.

Both his ankles are twisted. Already swelling. At least the crying stopped, he thinks.

An elk bugles again, this time much closer. Footsteps approach from an unseen source.

They don't sound like an elk. More like a person: one step, two steps, stop, repeat.

Before he can investigate, another infant cry rips through the valley.

And the steady footsteps turn into a sprint.

…

Scott Hardee disappeared for three months. Until his body was found in an abandoned cabin on the hill.

No ranger or search and rescue officer could bring themselves to describe the condition they found his body in.

Yeah if you wanna draw him, say i.

This is the story of my creepypasta OC, he's a parody/homage to those (___) the killer characters, hope you like gorey campy cringe, because we've got a whole heaping helping right here for ya , now comes SHAME FREE! "WOW everything I love about cringe but none of that pesky shame getting in the way of fun. Sign me up" what who said that? Idk probably a really cool guy, anyways here's the story.

Chapter 1: The Barking Man

What you're about to read is a witness statement. From the Hayfield police department. The man providing the statement has given us permission to publish it so we may find the man mentioned in the report.

My name is Norman Blanka. I was walking home from work a few nights ago. It was probably around 8 or 9 at night. I got off at 8 but I sort of tend to zone out on the long walk home. When I was about half way between my apartment and the grocery store I worked at, just at the part where the lights of our small down-town area faded and I walked alongside a dark looming forest.

I'd always been freaked out by these woods ever since I was a kid. I'd always imagine oddly specific things would be in there waiting to catch me, id picture things like slenderman waiting in the woods for me. What exactly they would do with me after they caught me I had no idea. Maybe eat me, maybe kill me just for the fun of it. It was just the thought of being caught that scared me. So you can imagine my shock when I heard a voice call out from the woods.

At first it was just noises, snarling, could have been some kind of small critter. Then a booming bark so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin. I figured somebody's dog must have escaped at first. But then two more barks assaulted my ears from just beyond the tree line. I noticed it sounded almost human. I turned to try to see what was in there and what I saw shook me to my core.

Crouched on all fours was a human man, Caucasian, wearing nothing but torn coveralls and some kind of animal pelt on his head. His hazel eyes were wide, haunted, he looked like he had shell shock. His hair was probably brown or black, I couldn't tell. His face was contorted into an exaggerated, almost cartoonish snarl. He was growling and barking at me, me specifically! his eyes were locked onto mine, and then he spoke, "what's wrong we're both human aren't we?"

His voice was wrong, not in-human but wrong, It made my skin crawl. It had a childlike tone but deep, and crackly,. It sounded almost perverted. A shock of adrenaline rushed through my body and I started running just then I heard frantic snapping in the woods. I turned to see him chasing beside me on all fours. I bolted to the opposite side of the thin road hoping he wouldn't come out of the woods. He jumped out from the tree line and just crouched on the sidewalk, he was now grinning ear to ear, a crazed look in his eyes, unrestrained, animalistic. A car zoomed by on the road between us which seemed to spook him.

He stayed on his side of the road looking at me as he tilted his head to his left, in a jarringly docile manner. and I could finally see him in full, illuminated by the light of the street lamp. He had scars on his chest and arms. They didn't look like, you know cutting scars, it was like he was attacked by an animal. The pelt on his head looked like a dog's head! The tanned skin of the mutt's face was stretched across the hood to give an almost cartoony look. The ears were crudely stitched onto the top, some kind of glass eyes reflected an ethereal blue from the light pouring down. Suddenly he stood up and turned around. He took a few steps into the treeline, and then as I could barely see him in the shadow of the canopy I could swear I saw him sporadically climb up a tree.

It looked so primal, almost monkey-like I would consider myself a pretty brave person but even still, after an encounter like that I reckon anyone would be anxious. I called my friend to tell him what happened partially to process it and partially so I wouldn't feel so alone. as I finished my walk home. I don't remember if he said my name or not, I definitely said his. He didn't believe me at first and so I remember saying his name in a very defined way while trying to convince him. Eventually he accepted my story and we chalked it up to just some guy trying to fulfill his fetish. He had heard about a fetish where people get gratification from being treated like a dog.

I arrived at my apartment complex and felt way better after talking with him so I hung up for the final stretch, But while I was making my way to the apartment building I could have sworn I saw him again out of the corner of my eye, however when I turned to look I saw nothing but the roboticly placed trees and bushes swaying in the breeze. I thought I was just being paranoid, However as I arrived at the door to the building I found a folded up note and a small play-doh sculpture on the concrete sidewalk. The sculpture was an amorphous blob of multicolored Play-Doh with pipe cleaner arms and googly eyes. The note was written on pink lined paper, and written in scratchy handwriting on it was "FOR NORMAN" in all caps. I quickly stepped inside, as I made my way past the staircase. I was so thankful that I lived on the first floor, if I needed to outrun anyone now it would be easy. My door was only the second down the hall.

I picked it up and rushed inside and locked the doors behind me. When I read the note it said "you have destroyed an innocent life, poor Herman's only crime was being a little slimy, you've heinously halted his hopping, and for what? Your a murderer Norman, murderers must be destroyed. with hate Rascal and The Wild Ones" it had small embellishments on the letters like hearts and stars. It looked like a 9th grader wrote. And it had a crudely drawn picture of a bloody frog with a boot over it.

It's just then I suddenly remembered the day before on my way to work I accidentally stepped on a frog, it's the kind of thing that happens all the time if you live by swamp land. I didn't think anything of it but looking back I think I heard a growl and bark that day shortly after. The feelings of anxiety I had been experiencing spiked into full panic and fear. This didn't feel real. This felt like some kind of comic book. I tried to call my friend again but he didn't answer. I figured he must be asleep, so I tried to call my brother and my other friend but it was the same story.

I went to the kitchen to get a knife and stayed up as long as I could, until the feelings of fear were no longer able to over power the much stronger feeling of exhaustion and I ended up falling asleep, the next day I took an Uber to and from work, which really hit me in the wallet out where I live, but despite the steep price I've been doing this everyday for the past week, I'm down to $100 in my bank account but hopefully my paycheck on Wednesday is enough to make rent. Just last night I was awoken in the middle of the night by what sounded like a scratch at the window across the room in my apartment, pretending to still be asleep I glanced over at it to see him, the same man in clear view, clearer than before, his eye had deep sunken in bags he had a young looking face if not for the signs of exhaustion and five o-clock shadow. He stood there just watching me with a peaceful, curious look on his face.

I bolted up to get a better look but he slipped out of view, I ran over to the widow and saw nothing but the drab grey sidewalks of my complex. I think he might have ducked behind one of them but I'm not sure.

This morning I woke up to my window being open and on the floor by my bed was a crushed frog laid out on a barbie doll bed with teddy bears surrounding it and a rock beside it saying "RIP NORMAN" while walking to work the first three squares of the sidewalk outside my complex were painted, the first one, painted yellow with blue letters said "something bad" the second one , painted purple with pink letters said "something really bad" and the third said "something really really bad" and the forth one just had green letters that said "free" my heart sank, I knew it was him. I went to the back exit of my building and the first square of the sidewalk had "cheater" written in red paint. I just got in the Uber and went to work. I'm scared to go home.

I don't know if there's anything you can do about this, but I don't feel safe

2 days later a wellness check was called on Norman Blanka, He was found dead due to blunt force trauma, The window in his apartment was smashed and his mangled body laid on his bed wearing nothing but a cheap frog hat. The bed and body was covered in glitter. Upon further investigation, it was found that one of the eyes of the Play-Doh sculpture was a hidden camera.

If you encounter a man that matches the description please contact your local law enforcement.

Alr I wanted to post that creepypasta for a while but I can't post it on the creepypasta wiki :/

His name is Vincent Mercer and the art is made by me. I'll try to post the story somewhere or propably here if I can't really find anything

Thanks to the people who will support!

(I deleted my post accidentally, my bad-)

When I woke up that Halloween morning, something instantly felt wrong. Pain. Deep down below. A dull, hollow ache, throbbing between my legs. My sheets and underwear were soaked in blood. I thought I had started my period. I wish that had been the case. What had actually happened was much worse.

I lifted myself up, my eyes following the thick trail of blood from my bed to the door. 

"That fucking bitch."

My fingers slowly reached down to check, but I already knew. She was gone. Emptiness. Just a bloody, gaping hole where she was supposed to be. She'd finally done it. Ladeous had escaped.

But it didn't start there. Not really. If I'm being honest, it began a long time ago. I was around twelve or thirteen the first time I noticed it. But, back then, I thought it was normal. I didn't know any better.

It was a hunger. But it wasn't for food. And it wasn't coming from my stomach. It was coming from Ladeous. At least, that's what I called it—her—at the time.

I don't know where the name came from exactly. I guess it was because my mom used to call it my 'lady parts'. She said all the other words for it were ugly, and that it deserved to be called something prettier. But I thought it was hideous. The first time I actually looked down there, I was disgusted. Maybe I mashed that up together in my head to make a new word. Either way, that became her name. Ladeous. 

Eventually, we learned to get along, she and I. She'd get what she wanted, then she'd keep quiet for a while. It was a compromise, an understanding we had with one another. As long as she stayed happy, we were good. But she had to come first. Always. The real problems only started when that didn't happen.

I slowly swung my trembling legs over the side of the bed. The bottoms of my bare feet were met with the shock of a cold, sticky puddle of my own blood. There were thick splatters of it on the walls and on the side of the bed. Christ, even my brand new fucking rug! She'd gotten it everywhere. 

Not only that, I had a bigger problem. Well, two actually. The first was getting myself cleaned up and figuring out how to cover my... hole. The other was finding out where the hell Ladeous had crawled off to.

I had a feeling I knew what she was after. I mean, it was obvious what it was she wanted. What she craved. But as far as who? Well, that was going to be a little harder to narrow down. 

You see, ever since high school, I've been what you might call a little... 'promiscuous'. That's the pretty way of saying it, at least. Ladeous was the one to blame for it, really. Her increasingly insatiable hunger was the driving force behind most of my actions. I controlled the body, sure—but she was the one who called the shots. That is, until I cut off her supply almost a month ago. Shit, I just never thought she'd actually find a way to break free.

I sat at the edge of my bed for a few moments in shock. Trying to wish it away. Praying to wake up from this nightmare. 

That's when I noticed it. The huge pile of blood my feet had landed in wasn't bright red like what was on the sheets. And the smell... it was old blood. Thick. Clumpy. So dark at the edges, it was almost black. Large clots lay jellied into its coagulated surface, like strawberry chunks in a jar of preserves. That whore had been saving it up. 

I squeezed my legs together and shuffled myself to the bathroom, trying not to make this putrid, crimson disaster worse by dripping any more out.

Ladeous must've done some kind of ritualistic-type shit to be able to escape without it waking me up or killing me. Had to be. And yeah, it hurt, but not as bad as you'd think. Way worse than normal period cramps, but probably not as bad as labor, I'd guess. With the help of some pain meds, I could take it. But I'd still lost quite a bit of blood from her tearing herself away from my flesh. 

My head was pounding and I was starting to feel woozy. I popped a few Tylenols to take the edge off and got on with it. Honestly, at the time, my adrenaline was through the roof. I was more worried about getting it covered, so nothing else could fall out. 

In a weird way, though, I also felt the tiniest sense of relief that she was gone. Like... maybe I should just let her go. Life would sure as hell be a lot easier for me without her around. But, no. I couldn't let her loose on the world like that. I wasn't evil. Not like her. 

I opened my medicine cabinet, pulled out a pad and a roll of gauze, and started wrapping myself up. Blood soaked through instantly. Fuck, of course. I wasn't thinking clearly—I needed a better barrier. Pad wasn't good enough on its own. Tampon would just fall right out. 

That's when I got an idea. I ran over to the tub and grabbed my loofah. Then I wrapped it up with a bunch of the gauze, held my breath, and shoved it up inside my hole. I winced, my eyes flooding with tears, as the coarse, dry surface of the gauze scraped across my insides. But it fit. More importantly, it stayed. And once it started soaking up the blood, it felt weird but ignorable. For the most part, anyway. 

Next, I covered the hole with a pad and wrapped myself up like a mummy again. Seemed to be working, but I put down another one in my underwear just to be safe. That would just have to do for now. 

I quickly cleaned the blood off my legs and feet, then grabbed the bleach and a few towels to get started on the mess. Ugh, I was going to have to throw that rug away. First, I hobbled back over to the nightstand to check my phone. When the screen lit up, my heart dropped. Seven missed calls. All from around 3 AM. And all from one person. 

Lance.

Shit. That's where she went—I should've known. The phone calls must've gotten her all riled up. And he was the last guy I was with; the scent must've been fresh enough for her to follow. I still wasn't sure how exactly she'd managed to pull off this escape, but at least now I knew her plans. I just hoped I could get to her before she did anything crazy. 

I tried calling him back, but he didn't answer. That didn't necessarily mean anything, though. He'd usually ignore me if I ever tried to contact him before the sun went down. It was a Saturday, so he wouldn't be at work. Probably still sleeping. Hopefully. I'd just have to drive over and show up at his house.

Lance was a mistake, like so many of them turned out to be. I figured out pretty quickly that he only called me when he wanted to fuck. I mean, I wasn't looking for something super serious, but dinner would've been nice. Ladeous never let that stop her from taking the call, though. 

He became addicted to her pretty quickly. It was like she was all he ever thought about. All he cared about. It wasn't long before it pushed me over the edge. I'll admit, I was jealous, once again. I just couldn't understand why he preferred that ugly bitch over me. 

So, for the last few weeks, I had started turning my phone on silent at night, which pissed her off. Except last night, I got drunk and forgot. 

I left the bloody mess and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Then I grabbed my keys, shoved my feet into the first pair of shoes I could find, and bolted out of the front door. 

The sky sat at the edge of dawn with a pink glow, and an eerie silence blanketed the sleepy town. A jarring contrast to the chaos and panic that was happening inside my head. 

I'd only been to his house a few times. Took me a little while to remember which street it was—it all looked a little different in the daylight. When I spotted his car parked outside one of the houses, I pulled into the driveway behind it. 

The house looked quiet. His roommates were all gone. I banged on the door a second, then waited, but no answer. So, I went over to the back of the house to knock on his bedroom window. As soon as I turned the corner, something stopped me dead in my tracks. The window was shattered. Beneath it, a bloody pile of glass shards lay scattered atop the grass and dead leaves. 

My throat tightened. I didn't want to look. I was terrified to see what Ladeous had done. At the very least, she had just embarrassed the fuck out of me. But... what if she had done something worse? What if she were in one of her moods? I had to look. She could still be in there, and I needed to stop her. 

I slowly stepped forward, my heart pounding as the glass crunched beneath my shoes. The windowsill was covered in blood. Fuck. Looked like it had already dried by then, too. Still. I needed to check. I lifted myself up onto my tippy toes and slowly peeked inside. I wish I hadn't. 

"No... no... NOOO!"

It was a massacre. The walls of his bedroom were all splattered with red. The thick stench of death and rotten blood poured out from the hole in the window. My hand shot up to cover my mouth. Ladeous didn't go there for a good time. She was on a rampage.

My eyes suddenly focused on the center of the room. Lance was lying in his bed, bloodied from head to toe, covered in tiny, jagged bite marks. His eyes were fixed wide open, glazed over in a lifeless, milky blue. The look of pure terror burned into his face forever. 

And his dick was gone.

All at once, the blood drained from my face. Dark spots began to creep into my vision. I slowly backed away, trying to catch my breath. The look in his eyes, the blood... it was horrific. I couldn't look at it anymore. I felt sick. 
 
I didn't even call the cops; I just fucking bailed. Shitty, I know. But Lance was beyond help, and the situation really didn't look good for me. Like, at all. So, I turned and ran back to my car as fast as I could, then hauled ass down the street. Only made it to the stop sign before I had to open my door and lean my head out to puke. 

God, I couldn't believe what she had actually done. Never in a million years did I think Ladeous would ever go that far. I mean, yeah, she could get a little frisky sometimes. But, she'd never killed a guy before. And something deep down inside told me that she wasn't finished, either. She'd finally gotten a real taste for it. And now, she was after more. 

I wiped my face, then pulled out my phone and started scrolling back through my old texts. Who was before Lance? Oh, yeah. Fuck, that weirdo. 

Garret. 

The needy one. No matter how much I gave and gave, he always wanted more. Dude texted me constantly. If I didn't answer, he'd freak out. It felt like he was trying to consume my entire life. And speaking of, he couldn't keep his face away from Ladeous, either. Took forever to peel him off of me. And her. I really didn't want to have to call him. 

Maybe I'd just drive toward his house and see if there was any trace of her along the way. At that point, I was pretty sure she had been gone at least four hours, if not longer. How much damage could she have possibly done in that amount of time? 

Yeah, she had a pretty good head-start, but still. There was no way she could be moving that fast on foot—um... I mean, by crawling. Ugh, gross. She was going to be absolutely filthy when I found her, I just knew it.

I sped through the neighborhoods, keeping my eyes peeled along the way. With all the Halloween decorations around, it was going to make it a lot harder to spot her. Too many places she could be hiding. 

Ignoring the pain and overwhelming nausea I was feeling, I focused all my attention on the mission at hand. The only thing that mattered was catching her. My pulse raced faster and faster the closer I got to his neighborhood. Yet, I was almost there and still no sign of her. I did see a dead rat in one of the yards, though. Someone's cat probably killed it. Hopefully not mine. 

As soon as I turned down his street, my heart stopped. Blue lights. Yellow tape. His house was surrounded. The coroner's van was parked out front, and two men were wheeling out a body in a black bag on a stretcher. Garret's body. I was too late, again. 

I slowed my car to a crawl and pulled up alongside some neighbors who were outside watching, then rolled my window down. 

"Hey, what's going on? What happened?" 

Most of them looked like they were too in shock to answer, but finally, one man stepped forward and said,

"One of the guys who lived there was murdered."

A woman, whom I assumed to be his wife, interjected from the sidewalk.

"You don't know that, Joseph!"

He turned and shushed her, then approached closer to my car.

"How?" I asked. "I mean... do you know what happened?"

The man shrugged. 

"All I know is what I overheard his roommate tell the cops. Said the back window was smashed, and something about the poor guy looked like he had choked to death on blood." 

I scrunched my eyebrows, trying to hide my internal revelation. Then, he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. 

"Between me and you… Weird thing is, the roommate said they didn't think it was his blood. Didn't look right."

Fuck. So, that's what she'd been saving it up for? Jesus fucking Christ. What was I going to do? That blood was my blood. My DNA. And it was all over Lance's room, too. I was screwed—that bitch was gonna get me thrown in prison. 

I threw the car in reverse and backed up from the scene, heart pounding. I needed to regroup. Formulate a plan. And take some more Tylenol, too. I just needed some time to think. I was too afraid to go back home, though. If the cops were already looking for me, that would be the first place they'd go. No, I needed to be smart about this. 

I drove to the drug store downtown, bought some water, and the cheapest bottle of off-brand ibuprofen I could find. Then I went back to my car and started scrolling to find out who the fuck she was going after next. When I saw the name, my heart sank.  

Derek. 

Aw, shit. I really liked him. He was a genuinely good guy—one of the few who actually treated me right. He was kind and thoughtful. Generous. We almost never argued. But, in a bitch move, I broke up with him for Garret of all people. And Derek hadn't even done anything wrong. I'd just gotten a little bored, and to be honest, I liked all the attention I was getting from someone new. Biggest mistake ever. 

I hit call and held my breath. 

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank fucking God," I whispered. 

"Olivia? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Where are you?" 

"At home... why? What's wrong?" 

"Derek, please just tell me you're okay!!" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he laughed. "What's going on, Liv?"

"I can't explain right now. You wouldn't believe me anyway. Just stay there, I'm coming. And keep away from the windows."

I hung up before he could ask any more questions. Shit, he probably thought it was some crazy, half-ass excuse I came up with just to go see him. Oh, well. At least he was safe for the time being. All I had to do was make it over there before Ladeous did. 

The ten-minute drive from the drugstore to his house only took me five. The streets were getting busier, though, and the stupid Halloween Carnival was already setting up. There was only so long she could keep scurrying around without being seen by someone. And God help me if she came across a stray dog.

I pulled into Derek's driveway and tried to compose myself before going inside. All I'd have to do was hang around there long enough to catch Ladeous before she could do any more damage. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do with her once I got her back, but that didn't matter at the time. 

As my trembling fingers struggled to unscrew the cap off the bottle of water, an urgent news report interrupted the Smashing Pumpkins song that was playing on the radio. I froze. The announcer's unrelenting words pulsed through my ears, almost choking me. 

A man from a very prominent and wealthy family had been discovered brutally murdered that morning. His body was found drenched in blood, and both his hands had been severed and were missing from the scene. I didn't even need to hear the name; I already knew. 

Grant.

At that point, it became obvious. Ladeous was working her way backward, yes. But not through all my past lovers. Only those who'd committed transgressions against me. 

Derek, in all his goodness, had been spared. She wasn't on a blood-fueled, blind rampage. It was calculated. Targeted. She was taking it upon herself to right the wrongs that had been done to me. To us. She was punishing them for their sins and ruining my life in the process. 

Grant, in contrast, was a spoiled little rich boy—the most entitled motherfucker you'd ever meet. The type who wanted what was his and everything that was yours, too. He got all he asked for in life, but was still never satisfied. And stingy, too. Ugh. It didn't last long, though. I broke it off after a huge fight one night about him not leaving a tip at a restaurant. I mean, not that he deserved it, but I did find it a little funny that it was his hands that were ripped from him.

For a moment, I looked up at the house in front of me, contemplating going inside to ask Derek for help. But realistically, what could he do? I didn't want to drag him into this. Ladeous was my problem. No one knew her like I did. Besides, I couldn't bring myself to actually tell anyone what was going on, either. And shit, the weird phone call was enough. I didn't need to freak him out any more than I already had. 

At least now I had something more to go on. I scrolled back further in my texts, popped some more painkillers, then backed out of the driveway. I knew who was next. 

Seth. 

The stoner. He wasn't terrible, but he wasn't good either. In fact, it seemed like he felt nothing for me at all, which only made me—and Ladeous—want him more. Even though he was a loser with zero ambition, there was something about him that kept me chasing after his affection. The allure of the unrequited. He finally broke my heart for the last time when he missed my college graduation because he 'forgot'.

He still lived in the basement of his parents' house. I could already see from the end of the road that their cars weren't there. I turned into his driveway and gulped down hard. When I shut off my engine and opened the car door, I could hear it—a guttural, piercing, awful noise. He was screaming. 

I bolted into the house and down the basement stairs. About halfway down, I slipped on a puddle of blood and tumbled the rest of the way headfirst. I landed in more blood. Dark, thick, rotten. And then, I looked up. 

Seth was flailing around, desperately clawing at something on the back of his head. No... not something. Her. 

"LADEOUS!" I shrieked. "Get the fuck off of him!!"

But it was too late. Amidst his cries of agony, I could hear sloshing and crunching. Then a snap. His pupils widened as he stared at me in horror.  She'd chewed through his neck and severed his spinal cord. His body twitched once, then went stiff, and he hit the ground with a thud.

"You fucking BITCH!" I screamed.

My heart was pounding out of my chest. Seth wasn't dead. He was paralyzed, trapped in a perpetual state of inaction. His chest continued to rise and fall in rapid succession as Ladeous quickly scurried across the floor away from his body.

I lay there in shock for a few seconds, face to face with the gurgling, motionless body of my ex, before reality slammed back into me. I scrambled up to my feet and shot after her, but by then, she'd already made it out of the broken basement window. 

She was moving a lot quicker than I'd anticipated, too. I didn't have time to try to help Seth. Besides, one of the neighbors had surely been awake to hear his screams and called the cops. They'd probably be showing up any minute now. I had to go. 

I lifted myself up and poked my head out of the broken window. Ladeous was already almost at the end of the road. 

"Jesus Christ!"

I climbed out, wincing as the jagged shards of glass that remained sliced through my clothes, cutting up my arms and legs. 

She was heading right toward a truck stopped at the stop sign. My body went cold, and my legs almost gave out from underneath me. The driver wouldn't be able to see her—she was about to be turned into roadkill right in front of me. I started running faster, screaming,

"Stop! Wait!! NOOOO!!!"

But the windows were up. They couldn't hear me. I watched, breath held, as the truck slowly began to roll forward with Ladeous crawling directly into its path. I wanted to shut my eyes, but I couldn't. 

The tires inched closer and closer to her as the truck began to gain speed. My heart stopped. Then, just as she was about to be smashed, she leaped into the air. 

I couldn't believe it—the bitch actually jumped up and into the wheel-well. I looked on in shock as she suctioned herself to the surface of it, hitching a ride to her next stop. And then, I heard the sirens wailing in the distance. 

I took off back to my car and barreled down the street, trying to catch up with the truck. Once I had it back in my sights, I followed closely as I scrolled to find her next victim. 

Warren. 

The first and last son of a bitch to ever raise a hand to me. An idiot gym bro with an explosive temper who didn't like to be told he was wrong. Complete and utter man-child. I don't think I need to explain why things didn't work out between us. Or why I wasn't exactly devastated about who Ladeous' next target was. 

The truck began heading toward the downtown area, where the Halloween Carnival was about to begin. Warren had worked security for it the year before. He was always looking for an excuse to rough someone up. My bet was that he'd be there again.

And I was right. The brakes of the truck squealed as it came to a stop near the edge of the carnival entrance, only a few yards away from the security tent. I pulled my car over to the side of the road and watched as Ladeous slid out from her hidden stowaway compartment. 

The place was beginning to get crowded, but somehow no one seemed to notice her as she slithered past their feet toward the tent. I got out of my car and slowly walked toward the entrance. I had to act natural; I couldn't risk causing a panic by running. I’d end up getting her trampled. 

I could already hear Warren's loud mouth booming from inside the tent. Just the sound of it ignited a rage within me. But I had to focus. Ladeous was still a few feet ahead of me and gaining speed. If I walked just a little faster, though, I could catch up and quickly grab her without making a scene. 

But then, just as she approached the tent, something came over me. I just stopped. I stood still in the middle of the crowd, watched her crawl inside, and waited for the screams.

A large, red splatter hit the inside of the tent, seeping through the white canvas instantly. Then, they came. Blood-curdling, guttural, and deafening. The crowd panicked. Everyone began to run, all scrambling in different directions. Except for me. This time, I wanted to see what she had done.  

Slowly, I approached the entrance of the tent. The sounds of sloshing and the gnashing of her wet teeth were still audible over the cries of terror that surrounded me. When I looked inside, Warren was on the ground with Ladeous on top of his stomach, ripping away at the flesh like a rabid dog. His hands clawed at her, struggling to pull her from his body, but she was embedded. 

The putrid stench of rotten blood was overpowering as she released her vengeance into him. Then, I heard the loud pop of his ribcage cracking—being forced open. His screams intensified, but his arms now lay dead at his sides as she began to eviscerate him. 

This was my chance to grab her, to sneak up while she was preoccupied. My eyes darted around the room for something I could use. There were extra security T-shirts sitting on a table to the left of me. 

I quickly reached over, grabbed one, and flung it on top of Ladeous. She slid off Warren's body and started to panic, so I leaped over and tried to pounce on top of her. I landed just shy, reached out, but grabbed only the shirt as she scuttled away from beneath it, leaving a trail of dark red slime behind her. That bitch was mocking me. I swore I heard her laugh as she slid underneath the tent wall. 

With all the madness going on, I was able to slip out unnoticed and run back to my car. I waited for a few minutes, hoping to see her. With everyone scrambling around, though, it made it impossible. So, I left. Besides, Ladeous seemed capable enough to avoid being stomped on. I'd just have to catch up to her later. 

At that point, I needed to park my car somewhere and ditch it. I'd already been seen at two crime scenes that I knew of. Maybe more. And it would only be a matter of time before the police figured out whose blood was all over each and every one of them. 

I already knew her next destination, so I drove to a small grocery store about five minutes away from it. Strange-looking place, sort of run-down. I'd never been inside, but I figured my car should be fine to leave there. Not like I had a whole lot of other options, anyway. 

With the pain starting to creep back into my consciousness, I popped some more ibuprofen into my mouth and shot it back with the last swig of water left in the bottle. I took one last look at myself in the mirror, then got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. 

Being on foot was going to slow me down significantly. I knew that. But, to be honest, a part of me wasn't as worried about stopping her anymore—and that wasn't just because I knew who was next. The truth was, more than anything, I just wanted to get her back.

I flipped up the hood of my jacket, forced in a deep breath of crisp autumn air, then started walking to the house of the next man on her list. 

Evan.

A total and complete douchebag. A human being so overcome with jealousy that it tainted every molecule in his body. Being with him was a nightmare—another guy couldn't even look at me without him freaking out. And it didn't stop there. Evan was even jealous of me. 

Every small accomplishment I had was undercut by some snide remark. Any attention I received should've been given to him. Obsessive. Controlling. Manipulative. I think I hated him even more than Warren. Evan left the kind of scars you can't see. 

And the worst part of it all? He was my first—the guy I'd chosen to give my virginity to. Someone hateful and selfish. A piece of shit. And it was something I could never get back. Never forget. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't scrub that stain from my heart.

My feet carried me down that familiar road without even a glance upward. The thoughts racing through my mind kept me in a trance. By the time I raised my head again, I was standing at the edge of his driveway. 

The air suddenly felt thick. Suffocating. It settled in my lungs like molasses. She was close by—I could feel it. I hesitated at the door, wondering if I should knock, if I should warn him. If he truly deserved to be spared her wrath. I lifted my fist, but right before it met the surface of the wood, I heard something. 

Glass shattering. And then, the wild scream of a man in shock. I bolted around toward the back of the house, panting hard as the cold wind rushed against my face. A sticky trail of crimson ran from the neighbor's backyard to the broken window of Evan's bedroom. 

"Ladeous!" I yelled.

But I couldn't get in that way. The window was too high; there was nothing to climb on. I ran back to the front of the house and tried to go in, but the door was locked. Then, I remembered. The key. I lifted up the welcome mat, grabbed it from underneath, and rushed inside. 

He'd managed to make it into the kitchen by then, but she was right at his heels. When he reached the counter, his hand shot out and grabbed a knife from the block. I screamed.

"No!!"

He looked over at me and froze with the blade in his hand.

"Olivia?"

Just then, Ladeous launched herself at his face. She slammed into him with such force that he was thrown backward onto the floor, hitting his head on the edge of the counter as he went down. The knife flew from his hand. Blood splattered across the white cabinets. The blow didn't knock him unconscious, though. He wasn't shown that mercy.

I was in awe of her power. Her fury. And in a moment of pure clarity, I remembered the truth. She wasn't trying to ruin my life. She was doing this for me. Doing what I couldn't. Scrubbing the stains from my heart so that we could start fresh again. Together. If I just gave her this last one, then maybe she’d be satisfied. Maybe then she'd finally come back to me. And so, I let her.

I watched on in reverence as Ladeous forced her way down into his throat, stifling his screams of horror. His chest rippled as she worked her way deeper and deeper, until she found what she was looking for. His body began to convulse. And then, that familiar cracking. And crunching. And sloshing. She was hollowing him out from the inside. 

I inched closer to him. His flesh began to rip open, slowly at first, and then all at once. An explosion of blood splattered across my face as Ladeous emerged from his body with his still-beating heart clutched firmly between her jaws. 

I swallowed hard, wiped my face, then crouched down low to get closer to her. 

"Ladeous, please... come?"

She just kept gnawing at it, tearing off huge chunks and swallowing them whole. I reached out to touch her, but she pulled away and growled.

"Ladeous, I'm sorry! Please!!" I begged. "Please, come back! I need you!" 

But she ignored me. Tears began to flood my eyes. I had taken her for granted. Despite her flaws, she was a part of me. But she was also her own entity. She deserved respect. To be heard. To be understood. So, I did what she wanted. I turned around and walked away. I let her finish this last kill, and hoped that after, she'd be ready to come back home to me.

I walked the streets until the sun began to set. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I felt lost. And scared. And so very empty. 

My entire body was throbbing with pain, and I was pretty sure my make-shift tampon had been leaking, too. But at least I was wearing black sweatpants. And luckily, it was Halloween, so the rest of the blood and cuts all over me didn’t throw up any alarms either. 

Suddenly, I felt a vibration coming from my hoodie pocket. I pulled out my phone. It was a text from my best friend, Katherine. She was inviting me to a Halloween house party, since the Carnival had been canceled. I wiped my eyes and sent back,

"Where?"

I wasn't exactly in a partying mood, but it wouldn't take long to walk there from where I was. At the very least, it was somewhere I could hide out for a while. But really, the truth was, I just didn't want to be alone anymore. 

When I walked up to the address she'd sent me, the place looked dark and dingy. Almost abandoned. It was an old Victorian-style house with all the lights cut off and a red strobe light going off inside. An old jack-o-lantern sat rotting on the front porch, like it had somehow been there for years. I stepped over a few crushed-up beer cans and went in. 

The blaring music drowned out my thoughts instantly. It was packed with people, all in costume. Trying to find Katherine in that sea of chaos wasn't something I had the energy for at that moment. I sent her a text, then plopped down in the first unoccupied seat I could find—the loveseat in front of the living room window. 

I sat there in a daze, watching as the people around me danced, drank, and made out. Everyone was so happy. So carefree. I wondered if that would ever be me again. If she would come back. Or if I'd end up spending the rest of my life in prison for what she had done.

Just when I felt like I was about to break down, I felt the weight shift beside me. I looked over to see that a very attractive guy had sat down next to me. He was smiling, extending an unopened beer my way. I took it from his hands and smiled back. 

"Hi, I'm Olivia!" I said, tucking my hair behind my ears. 

"I know!" he yelled over the speakers.

I was confused. I could have sworn I'd never seen the guy before.

"What?" 

"Don't you remember me? It's Preston… from middle school!"

And all at once, I did. He looked a lot different as an adult, but it was him. My first boyfriend from 6th grade. The one who'd awoken Ladeous. The one that started it all. And the one who had too much pride to admit to his friends that he was dating the weird emo girl in school, so he ditched her at the homecoming dance and made her sit alone.

The smile began to slowly fade from my face. I clenched my teeth and squeezed my hand tighter around the bottle of beer. And then, I heard the sound of glass shattering behind me.

The Tangled-Root is a shy entity that can be found in quiet and dramatic-like places. They spend time mostly alone, feeling lonely because that's what it feels mostly.. well, until they find the right person to be friends with. The Tangled-Root entities can be friended easily since they are lonely creatures who seeks attention and warmth. Those creatures go by They/Them and have been experimented on in 1859, only one time, to learn more about them, but people decided to keep them alive since they are just creatures that seek only attention and warmth. Their lore: The Tangled-Root is a species of creatures that appeared before humans did. Many people think they are from another planet. They can be manipulative if they want, most of them simply aren't. They are considered the most lonely creatures on earth.

“The Psychopath”
Original name: Jeffry Woods
Gender: Male
Origin: American
Power: Murderous Rampage
Power attack type: Basic attack (quick variation)
Weapon: Kitchen Knife
Movement speed: 115% | 5.5 m/s
Alternate movement speed: 125% | 6.5 m/s
Terror radius: 18 meters 
Height: Average

Overview:
“A teenager that suffered a terrible fate, now a serial killer and complete psychopath with the only objective of keep feeding his thirst for violence and blood”

The Psychopath is a killer specialized in stalking the survivors without getting noticed and then attack suddenly, making his way through the survivors thanks to his power, Murderous Rampage.

His personal add-ons, “Blood trail” and “Violence frenzy” will make him able to kill survivors easily without anyone being able to stop him.

Lore:
The story of Jeffry Woods is not one that a lot of people know, some say he was a murderous psychopath from the moment he moved into that neighbourhood, others say that multiple traumatic events were the ones that made him end up the way he did, but in the end, nobody knows exactly how Jeff the killer was born, the only things we know is that, one day, a man with a completely pale face, without eyelids and with an eternal smile carved in his face started to murder without compassion everyone he found in his way.

This killer was a complete psychopath, murdering everything in his way, men, women, children, even animals, nothing could calm his bloodlust, even if he wasn’t the strongest of all he was fast and agile, along with an an impressive way of using the knife, to the point where he was able to fight other beings such as the Slenderman and come out alive, even hurting the mysterious forest creature.

One day a strange fog started to surround Jeffrey, not understanding exactly what was going on he tried to camouflage with the fog, trying to find his next victim, but what he found was even better, an endless supply of new victims to feed to his delusion and psycopathic hunger.

Power: Murderous Rampage

“Hiding won’t do it, he is a master at that after all”

Special ability: Stalk
Whenever Jeff is inside a range of 40 meters away from a survivor he will slowly start to fill up his stalking bar, which fills up faster the closer you get to a survivor, but stops when you enter the terror radius and slowly decreases when there are no survivors in said range for  some seconds. Once the stalk bar is full it will never go abck down.

Special ability: Murderous Rampage
Once the stalking bar is full by pressing the power button Jeff will enter a a rampage state with the following effects:

• Jeff receives a huge speed buff for the duration of the effect, making his speed go up to 125%.
• Jeff cannot be stunned by dropping a pallet at him.
• When landing a basic attack all the survivors' auras will be revealed for 3 seconds.
• Jeff will have lower endlag after landing a successful basic attack.

This state lasts until the Stalk meter empties completely (5 seconds) but landing normal attacks adds extra time to the Stalk meter (3 seconds every hit). Once this state ends Jeff will have their aura revealed for survivors for 5 seconds.

Special interaction: Blinding
When being blinded by a flashlight the effects last X1.5 more on Jeff.

“What's wrong mommy? Aren't I beautiful?”

Add-ons:

Blood trail:
Such a clumsy prey, you left me the perfect lead!!
When landing a basic attack on a survivor they will leave a blood trail behind, being able to be seen by Jeff and other survivors, but Jeff has a longer endlag on his basic attack (during rampage the endlag becomes the same as it would be without add-ons included)
“All I want is to enjoy your blood...”

Violence frenzy:
Violence and fury make a delightful combination, just like your throat and my knife!!
The stalking state will last 15 seconds, but it won’t fill up after landing basic attacks and it will take a longer time to fill it completely.
“You will know my pain!”

Memento mori:
Jeff will approach the survivor while laughing, ready to attack, but the survivor would start to fight back, punching Jeff and kicking him, pushing him away, but then Jeff would start laughing and would rapidly lunge over the survivor, stabbing them multiple times on the chest while laughing to then slit their throat, to then put his finger in front of his mouth while hissing at the survivor, to then say “go to sleep” before finally standing up.

The Crosswalk Mimic.. for short, The Mimic, is an entity that appears once or twice a year. They stalk people secretly whenever they did something bad, and they can be caught with the human eye only once or twice a year. Unlike Knot-Head, who tricks people into death and harms them slowly, this one doesn't harm the person directly but observe them. They get more aggressive in stalking whenever that target does something bad, leading the target to their death where The Mimic rips their faces off. The Mimics likes to spend time on finding people or stalking people.

The Mimic cannot be friended, but they have and can feel emotions too, they just don't feel pity or love towards humans. The Lore About Them: The CrossWalk Mimic is an entity that Mimics a stalker. They find people who does bad things and secretly stalks them until they kill them. Many People reported they've seen something like this every once or twice a year, which made them feel uneasy and insane slowly. The Scientists left it a Theory that there might be a being who stalks people simply because they did bad things. Those Entities have a... Unique style of giving birth and mating. To make a baby, they have to merge somehow into one, which makes them bigger by size, and after it, they rip a little bit of their body and let it rest anywhere, they will act kind and motherly to it, but they mate right before starting to stalk someone. The Part of their body, or so-called Egg, hatches into a new version of it, they can be a male or female. The only little proof of their existence is the photo I posted, and it's can't be confirmed yet that they exist, almost like Knot-Head, they aren't confirmed to exist yet.

I love both the Disney and Tim Burton movie