Smile.jpg - Tumblr Posts

Smile Dog (fan interpretation isn't super accurate ik but don't crucify me over it please)

also have some doodles with him, logo'd so people know who to credit if they ever decide to use my stuff

its 2012 and you just spent breaktime recreating pages from slender, crumpling them up, and hiding them around school. you have IT next, you’re hoping you don’t get caught reading creepypastas during lesson again [rbs&follows>likes]

I made a little creepypasta comic hope you like it

Jeff the Killer Headcanons (OLD)

First things first, this dude is a total ass.

He’s sarcastic, laughs at other’s pain, will make fun of anyone whether the situation calls for it or not. He has no filter.

Everyone in the supernatural realm has heard of him; he’s famous for his recognizable facial features and his obnoxious, you’re-a-piece-of-shit-but-so-am-I attitude. 

He knows his face is startling. And he loves flaunting that around because it doesn’t bother him in the least.

But having said that, he takes great pride in his hair. 

He is definitely in love with his hair.

He let it grow out until it was just below his shoulders, and that’s just the perfect length in his opinion because he can throw it around like a sassy teen, he can put it in a ponytail, braid it. He loves to experiment with different techniques and thinks he looks flawless every time.

One of his favorite things to do post-kill is raid his victim’s hair products (he really racks it up if it’s a girl) and steal shampoo, hair-spray, and leave-in conditioners because he wants his hair to be soft and amazing.

He can spend around two hours every day in the bathroom just working on his hair. He doesn’t care.

Everybody knows not to ever insult his precious mane, otherwise Jeff will stab a knife into their arm. 

Moving on.

Before Jeff went ‘killer’ mode, he loved animals. 

That was one of the things he and Liu shared in common, and it never went away. In fact, it probably intensified.

Hence why he claimed Smile Dog as his own and takes care of him.

He’ll tell you quick that Smile is his pride and joy, second to his beautiful hair, of course.

He’ll take Smile on walks, play with him, he even brings him on killings sometimes. He may need some extra help, after all.

His feelings for Liu are…complicated.

Part of him wants to feel remorse for the pain and trauma he caused him, and at times he does, but it doesn’t last very long.

Jeff isn’t stupid. He knows Liu doesn’t like him.

He acts like he doesn’t care, but there are moments he can’t help but miss his older brother and look back at all the memories they share together.

Even if he tried to mend their relationship, Sully wouldn’t have it. 

Jeff and Liu mostly try to avoid each other, but when they do happen to cross paths Jeff will make some snarky remark and Sully will come out and roast him hard.

-”Hey brother, you’re looking good today. I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your funeral last year.”

”Hey bitch, Ronald McDonald called. He wants his face back.”

Jeff doesn’t have many friends. No one wants anything to do with him.

But that’s fine. He finds everybody else annoying as hell to be around.

The only people he can stand to be around without wanting to stab himself in the throat is Hoody (although he does piss him off sometimes), BEN, and Sally.

He and BEN aren’t really friends per se, they just kind of have a “I still don’t like you but you’re a bro” relationship.

Jeff and Sally though? They are very close-knit and enjoy each other’s company.

When Jeff was still leading a normal life, he secretly always wanted a little sister to look up to him as a role-model, like he looked up to Liu.

He has a soft spot for Sally and treats her as part of his very broken family. Having her kind of fills Liu’s absence and it makes him feel somewhat normal.

Plus he finds it ultra cool that she’s literally dead and can do all kinds of wild shit that humans can’t.

He will have tea parties with her, play pretend with her toys, and dress up (he does this very hesitantly, though). 

If anyone tried to hurt Sally he would be very angry and try to hurt them back. 

Even though she’s a ghost and can’t be physically harmed. But he doesn’t give a shit whether she’s mortal or not. He will still hunt bitches down and smite them with his shiny blade.

Much like his hair, he loves his knife with a passion.

He takes great care of it, cleans it regularly, polishes it, makes sure it doesn’t get broken.

He’s named it Kristine.

You think it’s weird naming an inanimate object? 

”If people can name boats, cars, and other shit then I sure as hell will name my knife whatever the fuck I want.”

He loves the color of blood.

Jeff is one of the most frequent killers in the Manor, murdering an average of ten people each week, maybe twelve, if he gets lucky.

He isn’t sure why he enjoys to kill and watch others suffer so much, and he’s never really put much thought into it. He’s just accepted it for what it was and put his mind on important things, like trying to remember if he’s been to this house, before.

If he’s being honest (which is a very rare trait for him okay, let’s get that straight) yeah, sometimes he misses his old life. He misses his mom, his dad, his very few friends. 

But he wouldn’t go back to living it. His life now is a lot more exciting; it allows him to be himself, express himself in ways he couldn’t, previously. It does have its hardships, but he’s willing to take them head on since it means being a Creepypasta. 

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 8 - Welcome to Our Freakshow

_____

Stirring awake, she tries opening her eyes, finding that it's exceptionally difficult due to her drowsy state. She waits a moment, collecting her bearings and slowly coming to the realization that, instead of leaning against a wall like she remembers doing, that she's laying on her back, on a seemingly cushioned surface. Like a bed. That's strange... did she sleepwalk? Or get up and get back in her bed? But she doesn't recall such a thing. Maybe she was just too tired to pay attention.

That dream though... This time, the dream was a bit... different than usual. There wasn't any static, there weren't any dead bodies, she wasn't in a completely different setting. All she remembers is feeling a rush of adrenaline, a moment of panic, then blackness. It was definitely odd, not that she's complaining any. If she had dreams like that all the time instead of whatever she's been experiencing recently, she'd be a lot more at ease. She can faintly remember seeing someone, or something, in front of her, trying to keep her quiet. It looked a little familiar, but she can't seem to figure out why. 

This dream was a lot more up-close and personal, though. And it felt so... so real. Realer than her others have been, which is pretty baffling. What did the figure look like? Mostly black, with some dark blue? And a type of inky liquid? The whole incident is blurry to her, though she assumes it's because her mind wanted to make it all unnerving. 

That voice, though. She knows she's heard that voice, before. Where? That's a total mystery to her, but maybe with some thought about the matter, she'll be able to place it. Or maybe it's all just in her head and she's never heard that voice in her life. She brings her hands up to rub her face, attempting to wake herself up a bit more so she can actually open her eyes and finally gathers the energy to sit up, if only slightly. As her eyes adjust to the moderate amount of sunlight spilling through the crack of the currently shut curtains right beside her, the first thing she discovers is that the scenery is... well, completely different from the bedroom she was in previously.

It's much smaller, being only big enough to hold an average-sized mahogany dresser to her left, a bedside desk to her immediate right crafted of the same wood, and sitting atop that desk is a lamp with a candlestick shade, a glass of room temperature water, and an unopened small pack of crackers; the kind one would receive from a restaurant. A window with simple brown and red drapes sits directly beside the desk, and across from her, on the other side of the room, is a shut door. She's unsure if it leads outside or to a closet of some kind.

The wallpaper in the room is white with occasional, tiny flowers colored a delicate shade of blue printed onto it, and the floor is made of hickory hardwood, part of it is covered by a thin, maroon rug of oval shape. The musty smell that the room itself puts off gives her the idea that it hasn't quite been used in a while, though the small cobweb dangling in the corner of the ceiling proves that theory. Either that, or it just hasn't had a proper cleaning. 

Her heart skips a beat and she doesn't even try to slow her breathing for the time being. This isn't her bedroom, nor is it any other room in her Nana and Pops' house, at least not one that she can remember. As far as she can tell, she's in a whole other household completely. But why? Who brought her here? Her gaze travels down to her body, almost instantly seeing a bandaid stuck to the inward area of her elbow. What the heck...?

Instantly, she peels it away in one quick motion, tossing it aside and not giving the very brief discomfort it causes any thought, instead focusing solely on the barely-noticeable pinprick still very present in her skin. She knows what that is. That's where somebody stuck a needle into her arm. But who? And why? What did they inject her with?

This thought sends her mind into a frenzy as she fully comprehends the startling, unexplained situation, and she throws the blanket that had been apparently placed over her prior to her awakening away, and jumps to her feet, almost instantly being hit with a wave of dizziness once she does so. Shaking her head to rid herself of the disorienting feeling, she uses one hand to prop her body against the wall to ensure she doesn't fall down, and with the other, she pulls back the drapes hung in front of the window, sticking her head through the widened crack and squinting her eyes at the minor change in illumination.

She can barely see through the thick greenery grown in front of the glass and obscuring most of the outside world, though she manages to see the trees that surround, she assumes, the whole house. Her grandparents live in a heavily wooded area, yes. But she knows for a fact that the lawn around the length of their house is almost completely free of trees. She isn't in her grandparents' house anymore. So where is she? And how did she get here?

Without a stroke of hesitation, she curls her fingers beneath the bottom rim of the window, and with one swift tug, attempts to open it, trying again when it doesn't work. She doesn't know why she's here, and she refuses to stay long enough to get that information. If it weren't for this being totally unfamiliar territory to her, sure, she may have stuck around until someone explains it to her. But not only does she get a bad feeling from this room, this place, but she also has plenty of reasons to want to escape. 

It's very apparent to her that she was drugged and brought here against her will. How? Beats her, although she isn't going to stop long enough to question it for too long. With wide, frantic eyes, she searches for a lever to unlock the window, seeing two of them on opposite sides of the frame and instantly pulling them toward her. Hopefully, this will actually work this time. She spends the next two minutes yanking upward on the window, hoping to the highest heavens that it will eventually fly open so she can get out. Her grandparents must be worried sick if they've been calling for her, and looking for her, and she isn't even in the house. She doesn't know where she is.

How long has she been gone? There isn't a clock in the room so she can't actively check, but she assumes it has to be around nine o'clock in the morning, given the angle of sunshine flooding in through the trees. It's only a guess, though. "Come on, just open, you stupid thing..." she mutters, really not wanting to use the door as her escape route. But if it has to be done...

Finally giving up on the window with an aggravated slap against the glass, she twists around, searching desperately for a weapon of sorts. If she has to wander out of this room in an unknown, likely dangerous house, then she sure as heck doesn't want to go out unprepared. Quietly, yet hurriedly, she opens the drawers to the dresser, then the one attached to the small desk, but to her misfortune, finds nothing. Everything is empty. 

She looks beneath the bed, under the rug, behind a door that she discovers leads to the closet, though still sees nothing whatsoever that could be of use to her. It's almost comical how utterly defenseless she is right now, and she would laugh if she wasn't so terrified. Chewing on her bottom lip nervously, she feels worried tears prick at her eyes as she hesitantly walks toward the still-closed door, the one she is now confident leads to the rest of the house, and reaches out, wrapping her fingers around the knob.

With a deep breath and a mental pep-talk, she tries to twist it, her heart dropping when it, too, doesn't move. She tries again, after all, maybe it's just stuck? Nope. Whoever brought her here has locked her in and now she has no way of possible escape. What should she do now? The window obviously isn't going to budge, but should she keep trying? Or just wait until somebody eventually comes inside and attack them? It doesn't look like she has another option. 

Her gaze shifts back over to the desk, then to the water still sitting untouched on its surface. Of course it's untouched. What is she going to do? Drink it? Only an idiot would do such a thing. But... that does look like a rather heavy glass. Heavy enough to lob at someone's head and hope they get knocked cold? Guess there's only one way to find out. 

She snatches it up, not caring about the drops of water that fall to the floor from the action, and stands only a couple of feet in front of the door, drawing her arm back and getting ready to throw her only defense mechanism at the first thing she sees come into the room. Maybe she'll catch them off-guard, at least long enough that it will enable her to get out, for the most part, unharmed. Fortunately, she doesn't have to wait for very long, for soon she hears footsteps outside before the knob turns and the door slowly swings open.

Not taking time to pay attention to many details of the person entering the room, she launches the glass at them though only manages to strike them in the shoulder, the water from inside splashing out and either soaking that area of their clothes or hitting the floor, the glass following closely behind and breaking into several different pieces. The person releases a grunt of surprise, flinching back slightly and looking down at the makeshift weapon hurled at him, then shifting his gaze back up to the h\c-haired girl standing warily ahead.

She would have used that as a distraction and booked it past him and out of the room, and that's what she originally intended, had it not been for the unusually tall figure still standing in front of the door, blocking her path and making it impossible without a struggle. Dang, I should've waited until he was farther inside to actually throw it...

Once he tilts his head back up in her direction, she sucks in a sudden breath and hurriedly backs away in a mixture of fear and shock, trying to comprehend the sight before her but having quite a bit of trouble. That's what he looked like. That's what the figure in her dream looked like. Seeing him now, in real life rather than just her mind, she can remember that. This is why she felt so afraid. He's terrifying...

But it was just a dream. It should have just been a dream. Is he the one who brought her here, wherever 'here' is? She backs away so fast that she runs into the foot of the bed, nearly tripping though able to catch herself before she actually falls, and continues until her back hits the wall. He stands in the same place, staring at her through the black, empty pits replacing his eyes and realizing how alarmed she clearly is. Not that he can blame her for that.

He raises his hands in a non-threatening manner, keeping his posture mellow and speaking, voice deep. "Y\n... I know what you're thinking."

It knows my name? It knows my freaking name?? Her breathing quickens and her eyes frantically avert around the room, trying to find something, anything, to use as a potential weapon, but her luck runs dry. She stays silent, waiting to see what move he'll make, if he'll even make a move. 

"...But you're okay. No one's gonna hurt you." He takes a small step forward, keeping his hands up to show her he isn't holding anything. She only backs farther up into the wall, narrowing her eyes up at him and remaining silent. "You were brought here so we could protect you."

'We'? There's more of them? She parts her lips, nervousness coursing through her veins as she contains the tears trying to spill over and onto her cheeks. "Wh...who are you?" She tries to make it sound like a fearless demand, but it comes out as a meek whisper. No, stop it! He can smell fear!

He hesitates a moment. "You... don't recognize me, but I'm Jack." Her eyebrows furrow incredulously as she stares at him, gaze unwavering. "What I told you about moving here with my mom, that was a lie. I do live here, but... I'm with a group of people. Not my mom."

"I don't believe you," she manages to spit out, tone venomous and looking past him, through the door, into what seems to be a hallway. This... this seemingly eyeless freak is Jack? No, Jack was normal. This person isn't. But she has to admit, his voice does ring some bells in her mind. 

"You don't have to. Point is, you're here for protection. Nobody here is going to hurt you in any way, you don't need to be scared." 

Right, and I should trust the guy who drugged, kidnapped, and brought me here to his 'group' against my will for what reason? "Let me go," she says, voice hardening and muscles tense. He shakes his head, taking another step forward.

"That's something I can't do."

"I don't want to be here. Let. Me. Go." Her hands clench into anxious fists, heart pounding what feels like a thousand miles an hour as he takes yet another cautious step forward. Maybe I can incapacitate him then run like a madwoman through the door. 

"You need to stay here. Somebody dangerous is after you, and this is the only place you'll be safe."

"Says the one who shoved a needle into my arm and pumped me full of whatever-the-heck it was you used to knock me out with," she retorts, fiery attitude returning in full form due to the alarming and unexpected circumstances. She hears him let out a sigh, muffled by his navy blue mask. 

"I only did that because I knew you wouldn't come with me willingly."

"Oh gee, I wonder why." She scoffs, eyeing the door now a couple of feet behind him and contemplating her chances. Just come a little closer, buddy. I dare you. 

"Look... I know you're scared and don't know what's going on. I can explain it to you, you just... need to pay attention." He steps even closer. "We don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah...?" Her timid, soft tone is very intentional, and he tilts his head slightly at the sudden shift in expression and eases even nearer. 

"Yes, Y\n. I promise." She uses the wall to brace herself as she lines her foot up with her target, mentally preparing herself for what she's about to do. 

"Wish I could say the same." Before he has time to react, she brings her knee up and forcefully rams her foot between his legs, causing him to double over in pain and give her enough time to dart past him and through the door, grabbing the knob as she does so and slamming it shut behind her to spare herself as much opportunity as she can. Briefly, she checks for a lock, only seeing a keyhole and figuring out he must have the key, so she glances to the right, thankfully spotting what she guesses is a door to the outside world. 

She rushes down the hallway, past another door across from the room she was just trapped inside, and directly into a small living room with nothing but a maroon sofa slid in front of a covered window, an armchair at a 90-degree angle, and a coffee table in front of both with a few meaningless items scattered on top of it that she could care less about. Heading straight for the door, she turns the brass lock up and yanks the door open, blinded by her motivation to escape and be as fast as humanly possible. 

Yep, just as she suspected. She's surrounded by forest, overgrown grass, and overall a poorly maintained lawn. She can only hope that she doesn't trip over any of the obstacles between her and freedom. What's most hazardous is the fallen branches and rocks hidden by foliage, so hidden in fact, that she wouldn't know that they were there until she was eating dirt. The sun's light is mildly obscured by the large number of trees looming over her, but she can see her surroundings clear enough that it shouldn't cause a problem, at least not one too big. 

She leaps off of the small, wooden porch and into the lengthy grass, using it as momentum to gain more speed and hurrying in-between the many trees. She has no idea where she is, but the trees seem to be, overall, the same kind that grows around her grandparents' house, so she has hope that she's at least in the same general area. Could she have been hauled off to a whole other state? Surely she wasn't asleep for that long, right? ...Right?

She sticks her hands out and swipes the brush and low-hanging branches out of her way so she doesn't get stabbed in the eye and have her vision rendered. That would be a very bad thing, so of course, she wants to avoid it. Occasionally, she feels the sharp impact of various plants scratch up her arms, twigs getting caught in her hair, and briars sticking through the thin material of her socks since she didn't have any shoes on while sleeping, though ignores it, for the most part, focusing on finding a trail, a road, something other than pure forest. Something to lead her back to civilization so she can get hold of the police, and in hindsight, contact her grandparents. They must be so worried about her. How long has she been gone?

The temperature isn't extremely hot yet, but she suspects it will be steadily rising the later into the day it gets. Adrenaline pumps through her body, her mind not fully able to comprehend what just happened. Did she really just escape her kidnapper? How often does that happen? Maybe she does have a chance of survival, after all. Well... she does as long as she doesn't get caught, again. If he wasn't intending to hurt her before, he for sure will after being kicked in the nuts. She's no dude, but she can imagine that getting hit in such a... sensitive area, can't feel very good.

Not that she cares about that right now, anyway. He had it coming. Past the erratic beating of her heart, she can hear the crunching of greenery beneath her feet as her speed gradually increases. The farther away she gets from that house, the more of a chance she has to escape. But then he'd track her down, again. He knows where she's staying. He took her from her own temporary home. But then does that mean... what did he do to her grandparents?

She's shaken from her thoughts when she hears the faint bark of a dog, the sound drawing closer and closer no matter how fast she runs. Oh no... They have a freaking dog, too? Now I'm dead for sure! Quickening her pace does nothing whatsoever, and not even a minute later the barking is so close by she swears the dog itself has to only be a few feet away. Oh no, oh no, oh no, please don't—

A sudden blunt force takes hold of her ankle and tugs her back, causing her to lose her balance and fall forward with a pained grunt as the force becomes firmer. She isn't stupid, she knows that the dog just bit her, and she likely isn't going to coax it into letting her go. After all, if that guy and his friends regularly kidnap random people then they probably have a lot of runaways. This is nothing new to the dog. 

She can hear the dog's low, threatening growls from behind her as its teeth sink through her pants and into the flesh on her leg, hard enough to leave indents but she doubts it will draw blood. She could be wrong, though. Her breathing is quick as she attempts to collect her bearings, wanting desperately to get away before whoever owns the dog comes to collect her and send her to the inevitable... whatever they do to the people they forcefully take here. 

She swallows a cry of fear, keeping her eyes planted down to the dirt that broke her fall and meekly trying to pull her leg out of the dog's mouth. It becomes apparent to her that it isn't going to let go when it shakes its head and drags her a couple of inches backward, heightening the volume of its snarl. It sends another bolt of pain up through her ankle, and she winces, wracking her brain for solutions to this particular situation. If only she had watched more National Geographic then maybe she'd know what do to when a potentially rabid dog attacks...

Maybe... it plays fetch. Yeah, she mentally scoffs, 'fetch the human'. Unfortunately, she doesn't see any stray sticks around that could be thrown, not that she could reach very far even if there were. Hesitantly, she twists her head around to look at her captor, eyes widening when she meets the narrowed ones of an unusually large Husky, its gaze boring into hers and sending another twinge of pain through her leg when it bites down harder. 

Her eyes travel down to the inflicted ankle, seeing not pointed, regular canines, but instead flat, human-like teeth, greatly catching her off-guard and making her gulp. What has she been thrown into? First some guy without eyes leaking some black, runny goop from his sockets, now a dog with human teeth? What's next, cyborg zombies from space? How does this even exist? It should be impossible.

But here she is, and here it is, latching onto her leg without mercy and being very real. "H-hi, doggy..." she starts, voice shaky and soft as to not alarm it and send it into full-on attack mode instead of just catch-and-keep mode. It releases another unfriendly growl, its eyes holding aggression. It's obvious this animal—if you could even call it that—isn't trustful of her in the least. Something she considers very hapless. "Let me go, please..."

She's so distracted by the freakish-looking dog that she doesn't hear somebody else steadily approaching, not until they're standing directly above her, their shadow blocking the sunlight and casting shade over her body. She doesn't even want to look up for fear of seeing something even stranger than a dog with actual human teeth but also doesn't want to seem weak in front of a possible deranged psychopath. What's the worse it could be though?

Don't jinx it, Y\n. Giving into both temptation and her strong urge to remain as bold as possible, she cranes her neck and her eyes trail up, taking notice of his converse shoes, ripped jeans, white hoodie with... questionable red stains, and shoulder-length black hair. Interesting style. His eyes are a bright, icy shade of blue, and the bottom portion of his face is covered with a black bandana being used as a makeshift mask. Why would he need a mask? Ya know what, I don't wanna know.

"Well, hello, girlie," he says, voice low and gruff as he stands in a casual-looking demeanor and gazes down at her. "Ya know, it's rude to leave without saying goodbye." She sends him a glare, her tone mundane and holding a sense of obviousness.

"We never even met." He raises an eyebrow in response, bending his knees and squatting down closer to her level.

"And whose fault is that?" She doesn't answer, instead continues mildly struggling against the dog's grasp and glancing at him expectantly. He looks at her with the same expression. 

"Call it off." She assumes that this canine belongs to him, either that or he's used to its presence because he isn't freaking out about it. He stares down at her, unblinking, and the dog bites down harder, making her intake a sharp breath of discomfort. "Please. It hurts."

"Oh, it hurts, does it?" He takes his hand and pulls his 'mask' down around his neck, revealing the very noticeable scars that look to have been messily carved into his cheeks, forming a crooked, permanent smile. She withdraws slightly, a bit alarmed by his disfigured face. Sure, it's definitely freaky and raises inquiries, but it's not as unnerving as random men showing up with featureless masks and no eyes who kidnap you in the middle of the night. "I do believe that's the point."

She stays silent, taking in his odd attributes. Those cuts, no matter how healed they may be, look like they could burst open any second. Did he do that to himself? What kind of sick freak would carve a smile into their face? Then again, who would own a dog with human teeth? He smirks—at least, she thinks it's a smirk—and leans in closer, causing her to scoot farther away. Well, as far away as she can get, considering her current restraint. 

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He's probably well aware of the thoughts racing through her mind and is taking pleasure in making her uncomfortable, but her expression hardens, not willing to show him that he's getting to her. 

"No." She takes a glimpse at the dog still holding onto her tightly, refusing to let her go. "Dog got my ankle." He snorts in what she takes as amusement, his gaze shifting down to the dog briefly as well before he meets her eyes again. 

"Fair enough." He snaps his fingers, rising to his full height and pulling the bandana back up over his mouth and the bridge of his nose, once again hiding his slightly disturbing facial features. "Smile, let go." As soon as the command leaves his mouth, the dog, who she now knows is called 'Smile' for fitting reasons, immediately releases her ankle and takes a step away from her, attention on the male of average height. 

Once the action is completed, she flips on her back and sits up, bending her knee and examining the affected area. The bottom leg of her pants is not only soaked with saliva but also ripped in various places, and worse, she can see blood coming to the surface of the torn skin beneath. So I was wrong... Scowling at Smile, she rubs at her ankle, not even considering fleeing the scene again. Smile would most certainly catch her, and a failed attempt at escape isn't worth an injury, especially one disabling her to walk. 

"Good boy, Smile," he says, patting the dog affectionately on the head and earning an excited bark in response. "You have a fat, juicy steak in your near future." She rolls her eyes when Smile wags his tail, grumbling in protest and wincing when she hits a particularly raw area on her ankle. The man nudges her leg with his shoe, hard enough that it'll likely leave a bruise later, and she narrows her eyes up at him. "Hey, if you didn't want to be dog chow maybe you shouldn't have tried to run away."

"Well, maybe your buddy shouldn't have kidnapped me." 

"You kiddin'? Jack isn't my buddy. And I didn't even want you here, but the others thought it was the 'best call'." Before she has time to process it, she feels his hand wrap around her arm before she's effortlessly pulled to her feet, stumbling a bit and having to lean against a nearby tree for support since he let go as soon as she was up. "Trust me dollface; if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here."

Her nose scrunches up in disgust at the abrupt and very much unwanted nickname, watching as he starts walking back in the direction she originally came from while he pulls out a phone, scrolling through something unknown with his thumb and looking back up at her as if waiting for her to do something. 

"Well? I don't have all day, ya know. I've got things to do." He signals ahead of him with his head, implying what he expects of her. She is currently zoned in on the small device in his hand, though. If she can get her hands on that, she'll be able to call the cops and get out of here. Back to her grandparents... if something hasn't been done to them. She will kill every person here if she finds out one of them killed or hurt her Nana and Pops, even if she dies in the process.

He continues staring at her for several more seconds, almost seeming confused as to what she's looking at so intently until he follows her gaze and it leads him to the phone. Raising his eyebrows knowingly, he grins from behind his mask, holding the device between his thumb and index finger and waving it in front of her face. 

"Oh, I see. You want this, don't cha?" She presses her lips together into a firm line, shifting her e\c eyes back up to his mostly-covered face and giving him an indignant glare. "What, you gonna call the police? Get us arrested?" A dark chuckle escapes his mouth, and he takes a step closer to her when she doesn't answer. "Lemme let you in on a little secret, girlie." She leans her head back as he gets way past her personal boundaries, staring her directly in the eyes as his entire aura grows dangerous and whispering. "Cops don't scare me. I've dealt with way, way worse than guns and tasers."

The mere tone his voice holds is enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up from unease, though she doesn't break eye-contact, no matter how much he may be trying to intimidate her right now. What the heck is wrong with this person! His words almost sound like a threat, and she has to hold her breath to stop it from shaking. 

"Keep that in mind next time you try and get out, k?" He brings his hand down onto her shoulder, giving it a rough pat before spinning around and continuing to walk ahead of her with Smile by his side, and she doesn't miss the way he discreetly pulls the shiny blade of his knife out of his hoodie pocket, in clear view of her, before putting it back and acting as if nothing happened. She gulps, quickly figuring out that this dude is not to be messed with. Not without proper defenses, at least. 

She tries to slow down her accelerated heartbeat, remaining completely still until he looks back at her with an evil glint in his icy-blue orbs, once again silently telling her to get a move on, to which she hesitantly obeys. If she were to try and run, she'd surely be caught. She doesn't want to get on this guy's bad side, not until she has a weapon of her own so maybe she'll have a fighting chance. Limping a few feet behind him, sharp pains zip up her leg each time she puts weight on the injury, and she stares at the man's back, watching as he presses the phone to his ear.

"I got her, don't send the others out to look." An incoherent voice erupts from the opposite line, and she tries to listen in on what's being said, though fails. "Well, call them back. It isn't that hard." What sounds like a scoff can be heard from the phone before he takes it away from his ear and shoves it back into his jeans pocket, seemingly done with the short conversation. "You better pick up the pace back there. I'm not gonna frickin' carry you if that's what you expect."

"Over my dead body," she retorts, though makes an effort to walk a bit faster to avoid making him mad, even at her disadvantage and the pain it causes. 

"That can be arranged. Smile." She eyes the dog warily as it raises its head in attention, subconsciously shifting closer to the male in front just so maybe she can use him as a sort of shield before she's completely mauled to death. "Shall we teach her not to say such a thing without actually meaning it?" Smile whines, she can't figure out if it's in agreement or confusion, but for her sake, she hopes it's the latter. 

"I do mean it." Her words are strong, a lot stronger than she expected considering the nerves jumping in her throat, but she's satisfied nonetheless. He's quiet a moment before clicking his tongue, glancing back at her with crinkled eyes, and shaking his head. 

"Heh. Ya know, maybe you won't be as annoying as I thought."

"Oh really? Gee, thanks," she mutters, biting the inside of her cheek and dreading what's to happen when she gets back to...Jack's house. He certainly won't react well to her reappearance considering what she did to him. Was he telling the truth? Is he actually the Jack that she met just a couple of days prior? But... she doesn't see how that could be possible. Jack looked like an actual human being, but this person looked completely different... He is wearing the same attire, though, and his voice is undeniably similar.

If that is the case, why would he bring her here, to a place full of weirdos, Jack himself being one of them? As far as she knows, they seemed to hit it off pretty well. So why would he kidnap and put her in danger? Cause he's a psycho. Just like Joker wannabe over here. 

"Now, I think we both know what happens if you try and get away, again." She stares at the back of his head, unimpressed, as she wraps her arms loosely around her torso to soothe herself a minuscule amount. "Not that I care, of course. Frowny face just wants you alive, I could give less of a crap whether you become Smile's dinner or not if I'm being honest."

"Yeah, you already established that. I appreciate the concern, really." Sarcasm practically drips from her voice, as she tries to form some kind of escape plan in her mind. 

"Hey, what else am I here for?" Rolling her eyes and releasing a small huff, she looks down at her ankle as it steadily leaks blood, knowing she'll have to doctor it soon before it gets infected. Who knows what that... thing is carrying? Considering her no doubt unfortunate situation, she shakes her head in disbelief.

My God... what is going on? And why am I involved with it?

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 9 - All My Friends Are Heathens, Take It Slow

_____

It isn't long before the house that Y\n ran away from only fifteen minutes ago comes into full view, the girl only beginning to notice the shrubbery that the entire exterior of the building is covered in. Almost like it's meant to be difficult to see, as if to make it inconspicuous. There's no doubt that these people are wanted criminals if they're crazy enough to kidnap people from their bedrooms in the middle of the night, so what else are they capable of? Murder? This permanently-smiling man still in front of her has to own a knife for a reason, right? Do they actually... kill people? Is that what they're going to do to her?

Jack told her that they meant no harm, but then again, how is she supposed to trust the very guy who abducted her while she was asleep? She limps onto the porch, behind the raven-haired male, and waits in uncomfortable anticipation as he knocks on the door. Smile sits down beside her legs, looking up at her with scarlet eyes and releasing a growl from deep within his throat, making her take a small, almost unnoticeable step away. This dog is freaky. This man is freaky, the guy that took her in the first place is freaky. People like this are supposed to be in movies, not reality. Then again, she's been seeing things lately that should make her question both herself and reality.

The door opens, and she instinctively glances up, instantly regretting it when she meets the soulless pits where she assumes Jack's eyes used to be. Or did he even have eyes? He did, she saw them. They were a nice, chestnut color, so what happened? Was it just a disguise? A trick of the mind? Is he even human? Maybe he somehow made her see him in a different way than what he actually is. "Jeff," Jack starts, voice low with a suspicious tone to it, "I hope you didn't do anything stupid."

So that's his name. Jeff.

"Psh, why must you immediately make such an assumption about me?"

"Because you do stupid things," he answers plainly, stepping aside and allowing who she now knows as Jeff to enter the small household. Y\n follows, warily glancing at the mask-wearing male and staying as far away from him as possible. "What happened to her ankle?"

"How else was I supposed to catch her? She was bolting so fast even Smile had some trouble." He stands there a moment, staring at Jeff with an emotion that she can't quite identify. Though it's quite possibly irritation. 

"So what you're saying is, Brian tells us not to hurt her, and you hear, 'sic Smile on the runaway'?" 

"Hey man, I caught her, didn't I? You just better be happy she didn't get a leg ripped off or something." She crosses her arms and shoots a glare at Jeff, putting her weight on her right leg to relieve herself from as much pain as she can. Jack sighs, shaking his head and walking farther into the living room, closer to Jeff. 

"Just... just get outta here. And take your dog with you."

"With pleasure," he replies, sending Y\n what she assumes to be a smirk from behind his makeshift mask before stepping outside, snapping his fingers while he does so. "C'mon Smile. Let's go somewhere far away from these bozos." Smile wags his tail excitedly and stands from his sitting position, looking up at Jeff. "And I'll have you know, demon boy," He looks back at Jack, his eyebrows raised, "if you let her get away again I'm not the one responsible for catching her."

"Get lost, Jeff," he responds, pointing outside and facing the icy-eyed teen with clear annoyance. Jeff leaves without another word, and Jack closes the door behind him before turning back to the injured girl standing timidly in his living room. "...Are you okay?"

She narrows her eyes and releases an indignant huff from her nose. "I've just been bitten by a dog, met some psycho with a smile carved into his face, and been taken back to my kidnapper's house against my will." She furrows her eyebrows. "What do you think?"

"I think that you could be doing better," he says, taking a small step forward and making her move back slightly to keep some distance. "Look, Y\n... I know you're scared. If you'll just sit down and let me bandage your ankle, I'll explain it to you." His tone is negotiative, and she raises an eyebrow suspiciously.

"You want to bandage my ankle?"

"Yes. Unless you want to walk around with a hole in your leg and wait for an infection to get into it first." She stares at him, glancing at the couch she stands in front of and contemplating her options. It isn't like she can take off again and expect to get anywhere. Maybe she shouldn't push her luck—after all, he doesn't seem too mad at her, if he is at all. And if he wanted to hurt her, he likely would have said something threatening. But he hasn't.

Slowly, she steps toward the couch, not taking her eyes off of Jack as she eases down on the cushion farthest away from him. He seems to take this as a positive sign and his muscles loosen up, nodding in response to her silent agreement and beginning to walk down the hall.

"Make this easier on yourself though and don't try to get out again, okay?" She doesn't answer, though she figures that he doesn't really expect her to. She watches him disappear into the hallway and open a door, she isn't sure which one, before flicking her gaze around the room that she's currently occupying. If she's going to let him 'bandage' her ankle, then she doesn't want to be unprepared while he does so. What if he tries something? There's no way to know what's going on in his mind and what he's planning on doing with her, but according to Jack, he'll explain it all.

How is she supposed to believe that he is actually the Jack she met on her way to the river? They look almost totally different. How could he change his whole appearance like that? He went from fair skin and copper eyes to grey skin and no eyes. How is that possible? 

But... he looks familiar. She knows already that he's the one that she saw in her 'dream' that turned out to be an actual event that occurred, but she can't help but feel that maybe she's seen him before then. When? In a nightmare? No. During one of her severe hallucinations? When she was having an episode? Now that she thinks about it... she has seen him before. It was when she was at the river, right before she began to climb down the tree. She saw Jack, but... it wasn't Jack. It was him. The man that brought her here. Except he wasn't wearing a mask.

And then, in an instant, he looked normal, again. What if he isn't lying? What if he somehow tricked her into seeing what he wanted her to see? She trusted Jack, at least to a point, but if he actually lied to and kidnapped her, she can't trust him. Not until she sees for a fact that he isn't going to hurt her. Not until she finds out that her grandparents are fine. Not until she's allowed to go back home.

By the great lengths that Jeff guy went to already to make sure she didn't escape, it's evident that he, Jack, and whoever else was involved with this stuff don't want her to leave, at least not yet. Even after sweeping her gaze over every inch of the living room, she fails to find anything that could be used as a potential weapon, much to her displeasure. Would a TV remote be heavy enough to throw at his head?

If worst comes to worst she supposes that she can kick him, but it won't do much if she uses her left leg for one reason in particular. She notices a doorway to her far right, with only a swinging door to block the interior. She sees what looks like a fridge and the beginning of a counter, and is instantly tempted to journey inside. That has got to be the kitchen. Kitchens have knives, right? A knife would be an amazing weapon.

But before she can even start to stand, Jack reappears and turns his head in her direction, black pits searing through her eyes, grabbing at her stomach and squeezing. Why does he have to be so creepy? In his hands is a bottle of what looks like Peroxide, a roll of gauze, cotton balls, and some kind of wipes. Probably to clean her wound. As long as she doesn't see anything sharp like a scalpel or a knife, then she won't cause too much trouble. 

He draws closer at a slow pace, likely in an attempt to make sure he doesn't alarm her any more than she already is, and sets everything but the wipes on the coffee table before dropping to his knees. Y\n shuffles in her seat uncomfortably, scooting another inch away from him but seeing the sudden difference in position and height as an advantage and mentally prepping herself should she need to use it. 

"I'm just gonna clean the bite, okay?" he says cautiously, tilting his neck upward to better face her and not missing the skeptical look etched across her features. "Don't... don't kick me. My intention is to help you, not hurt you." 

"And you couldn't have told your friend that before his dog or whatever did this to me?" She motions toward her leg, her nerves jumping. Everything about this situation seems out-of-place and wrong, and there's no way she going to let her guard down for even the shortest of moments.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond as if he isn't sure what to say. "Jeff... isn't one to follow orders very well. He pretty much just does what he wants when he wants to do it. The only one he really listens to is Liu, and even that's scarce."

"Who's Liu?" she more or less demands, her eyes narrowed down at him in suspicion. She might as well be informed of every person that she can, because if they're associated with Jack, it will come in handy, especially in a police report. It'll make them easier to track down. 

"Jeff's brother." He reaches out toward her leg, silently asking for permission, and after a moment of hesitation, she lets him take it. "This process will be quicker and more comfortable if you shift around this way a little bit."

"I'm not going to be 'comfortable' either way." But she does as told nonetheless, her right leg now propped onto the couch and her left one dangling slightly. She studies his actions as he peels away her dirt-covered, bloody sock, and rolls the material of her pants up, revealing the small puncture wounds littering her ankle as they leisurely seep crimson. He presses one of the soggy wipes against her skin, making her flinch from both the wave of cold it brings and the mild stinging sensation. 

He rubs it gently around her injury, putting pressure on certain areas, and it isn't long before she notices that the blood leaking down her ankle is getting significantly thinner and less noticeable as the piece of cloth collects it all. Unable to handle the tense silence between the two and yearning for answers, she speaks.

"Why am I here?" He continues his process of swiping away the blood for several more seconds before tossing the wipe in a nearby trash can, opening the plastic bottle of Peroxide, and pouring it skillfully over a cotton ball. She waits in dwindling patience as he takes hold of her leg and brings it closer to him, once again. 

"This is liable to hurt a bit."

"I don't care," she snaps, lips pressing together into a firm line. "Tell me why I'm here. Tell me why you kidnapped me." She internally winces when the medication meets her minor wound, focusing directly on Jack and glaring daggers into his head. She avoids looking at his empty sockets to make everything a bit more bearable. 

"You're in danger, Y\n." Sensing the judging e\c gaze of the girl sitting on the couch, he better clarifies. "Something bad wants you, and it wants you now. I only brought you here this soon because, if I hadn't, it would have gotten to you first. And you would be suffering. It would make you its...slave, I guess one could say."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying what Jack has to deliver. "What do you mean 'something bad'?"

"It... er, he, I guess, is... well, he's not human. He's not even from this world, he came from somewhere different. Somewhere evil, and dark, and filled to the brim with things, creatures that he created to reign chaos upon the earth." He pauses a moment to gather his words. "We don't know a lot about him because sightings of him are so rare, but... there are a few key individuals that live around here that have had very personal, up-close encounters with him. Everyone knows that he's dangerous, though."

Geez, that's a lot of information to process. She takes in a short breath, fighting the fear threatening to creep into her chest and forcing a coherent sentence out of her mouth. "So why is he dangerous? What did he do?"

"He's bad. And I'm not talking about robbing a store or stealing ice cream from a baby 'bad', I'm talking about messing with peoples' psyche, making them go insane and murder others 'bad'." She blinks, quickly becoming invested in his words, much to her resentment. "He gets in your head, makes you see things that aren't there, makes you dream terrifying things that often involve your greatest fears. It's a slow process, and it usually takes months if not years to complete, but... he's taken a strong liking to you for some reason. I don't know if it's because you're really stressed or just because you have a weak mind, but either way it means you're in immediate danger."

He takes away the fluffy ball of cotton and throws it, too, in the nearby trash bin, grabbing the gauze wrap and slowly twisting it around her ankle, making sure to cover the entire wound before slapping a piece of medical tape on it and setting it on the table. She doesn't realize that the speed of her breathing is increasing, nor does she notice the erratic beating of her heart as it thumps against her rib cage. Seeing things that aren't there? Having horror-inducing nightmares? That sounds extremely familiar, and she isn't sure whether or not that's a good connection to make. 

"It sounds crazy, and I know you probably don't believe me. But haven't you been experiencing freaky, unexplainable things lately?" She watches as he stands and sits on the other end of the couch, making her instinctively draw her legs toward her in order to create as much distance between the two as possible. "I mean... when I went into your room that night, you weren't even in your bed, you were in the closet. There must be a reason for that."

She releases an unsettled huff, biting the inside of her cheek nervously and staring at his navy-blue mask with a contemplative expression. Surely he can't be telling the truth, right? "I was just..." She wracks her brain for a reply, desperately wanting to think that this is another one of her wild dreams that she'll wake up from again soon. "...just a little scared."

"Because you had a bad feeling. Y\n, I saw that symbol that was drawn on the sketchpad. Did you do it?" She shoots him a half-hearted glare, subconsciously clenching her hands into loose fists. 

"Yes." Her tone is sharp and defensive, eyes holding a mixture of fright, anger, and disbelief. "What does some stupid symbol have to do with anything, anyway?"

"That symbol is a side effect of having Operator Sickness, which means that he's in one of the last stages of recruiting you." He stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket and shifts around a little. "Did you draw it willingly?"

"What do you mean?"

"Were you conscious while you were doing it? Or did you not realize until it was finished?" She narrows her eyes, refusing to take them off of the brown-haired boy sitting only two and a half feet away from her.

"I was... I was doing it in my sleep."

"See what I mean? He's been trying to control your life. It only would've gotten worse had I not taken you here." She attempts to wrap her mind around this new information, though not willing to just accept them as straight facts. It is, indeed, freaky how almost everything he just mentioned has happened to her within the past few days. How would he know that? Has he been watching her? But how would he know what she's been dreaming about?

"And how exactly is you bringing me here, wherever 'here' is, gonna help me?" She scoots backward and furrows her eyebrows at him. "For all I know, you could be the bad one and just be lying to gain my trust. It wouldn't be the first time." Her words have a blunt edge, eyes brimming with emotions that she isn't allowing to fly out of her mouth. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"This place is like a base, I guess. There are lookouts on duty at all times in order to ensure nothing creeps up on us, there are cameras hidden in the trees around the area with a sharp eye watching them, and multiple...beings, live here that can protect things better and more efficiently than normal people."

"So you're telling me that you brought me to a prison with a bunch of freaks." She doesn't miss how his shoulders tense after those words leave her lips, though she doesn't think on it too long, focusing solely on her current, certainly unfortunate, situation. 

"I, uh... I wouldn't call it a 'prison'. A lot of individuals take shelter here because it's the safest place to be. And it has been for a while. We wouldn't have to have such drastic measures if we hadn't all been attacked before. We're at risk all the time, so we have to take precautions."

"Cut the crap, dude," she suddenly barks, twisting around and putting her feet back on the floor. There's no way this is all true, right? He has to be trying to get a reaction out of her. Trick her, manipulate her. And she won't stand for it, even if she does have the disadvantage. "Just let me go. I don't want to be here."

"I'm not lying."

"Oh, yeah?" She rises to her feet, becoming exasperated and refusing to believe the information she was just given. "Are you really expecting me to believe that there's some other-worldly creature trying to get me, that it's been controlling what I dream and what I see, and that there's a secret base somewhere in the woods that houses multiple 'beings' that protect it?" Her voice raises, a natural occurrence thanks to her incredulous state, and she holds back frantic tears. 

Jack stands as well, easily towering over her with his taller frame and striking her unintentionally as intimidating. "It's the only way to explain what you've been experiencing. I promise you, I'm not lying." She scoffs, crossing her arms and taking a step back, ignoring the pain it causes. 

"So then why do you care?"

He tilts his head in mild confusion. "What?"

"If I'm really being hunted by this thing, why do you care? I can't do anything for you, I can't even help myself at this point. So why'd you bring me here? Don't you have better things to do than help some random, troubled girl?" He rubs the back of his neck, his voice lowering slightly.

"It wasn't my idea, but I agreed with it. If he were to get his way and you became his...his worker, then you'd be against us. We don't need anyone else to fight." Her gaze flickers down briefly, staring at the floor and trying to decide whether or not she should take what this person says to heart. He's made some pretty valid points so far, and he obviously isn't trying to hurt her. Why else would he doctor her ankle for her? He sounds very passionate about this, so even if it isn't true, she can tell that he's either just convinced himself that it is true, or he's a really good liar. Something that wouldn't be too big of a surprise...

After a long silence, she lands her gaze on the black pits in his head that leak the same thick, tar-like liquid that she's seen since she woke up and first laid her eyes on him, and breathes an almost inaudible sigh. "...You're not going to let me leave, are you?"

He doesn't comment on her sudden change in demeanor and instead shakes his head slowly. "It's too risky. Besides, I'm sure you don't want to be mind-controlled by some faceless guy in a suit."

"W-wait, faceless what?" That sentence sends her mind into a frenzy, and she subconsciously leans toward him in anticipation. Did she really just hear him say that?

"Faceless guy in a suit. That's what he looks like." He steps closer to her curiously. "He's also really tall. Did you see him?"

"I... I think so." She thinks back to that night she slept in the closet after she woke up from that daunting dream, so horrific that it made her awaken violently ill. When she glanced out of the window, she saw something. Something tall, starch white, but she couldn't make out any other detail besides the fact that it seemed to be dressed in formal wear. Maybe that's because it didn't have any other details. "Do you mean... that wasn't a hallucination?" Her tone is uncharacteristically soft as she comes to the realization that if that wasn't a hallucination, how many other things has she saw that also weren't hallucinations?

"No... probably not." Another silence settles between the two, and she steps backward until stumbling over the armchair sat beside the couch, causing her to fall into it and land with a startled huff. Not that she's complaining, in fact, she hardly even comprehends it as she tries grasping everything she was just told.

One of the first thoughts that enter her consciousness is her grandparents. What happened to them? Are they okay? "My grandparents." She shifts her gaze back onto Jack, expression quickly turning aggressive. "What did you do them?"

He's quick to put his hands up in self-defense and shake his head. "I didn't touch your grandparents." She sends him a look that makes it obvious that she doesn't believe him. "I'm serious. I went in, got you, then left. They didn't even know I was there."

"Prove it," she spits, glaring up at him with distrust. His posture tells her that he's becoming a bit irritated, but she could care less at the moment.

"You want proof? Fine. Brian's going to take you back in a few days to get your stuff, so you'll see then."

"Who's Brian?"

"He's who you're staying with." She opens her mouth to object, but he cuts her off. "No, he won't hurt you, but I suggest you don't push his buttons. He has a low tolerance level."

"I can't believe you expect me to willingly stay here," she says through gritted teeth, devising a way to escape Jack, escape this place. All of this is a little too much to comprehend at one time. She just wants to go home. Nana and Pops are probably worried sick about her. 

"Well, you don't have another choice." He collects the medical supplies from off of the coffee table, screwing the lid back on the Peroxide bottle and heading toward the hallway, likely to put them back where they were originally. Her stomach twists into a stressed, scared knot as she glares daggers at his retreating frame. "Let me put it this way; if you go back to that house and start living normally again, not only will you end up either dead or a slave, but you'll be putting them in danger, too. I know you don't want that."

He leaves her with that sentence, letting her repeat it over and over in her mind. How would, she returning home, put them in danger? Would that make them targets? Would Jack and his group of misfits go after them as a form of revenge? It's unknown to her, and it will remain that way until she gets more answers out of Jack. She will not stand aside and let him threaten her family like that.

She twirls a strand of hair around her finger anxiously and considers everything. How did she get tied up into this? She's never done anything that could be deemed as 'satanic', like playing a Ouiji board. Is this... thing, if it does even exist, a demon of some kind? Is it the devil himself? Why does he want her? What makes her so special that he'd want to...mind-control her, according to Jack? She's just an average girl with trash for a family, at least for the most part. All of these questions and more send a streak of fear through her chest, and she can't shake the feeling that maybe it is all true. Maybe Jack was telling the truth. Maybe she is in danger. If that is the case, what then?

Puppeteer Headcanons

The Puppeteer Headcanons

Jonathan is a unique fellow, to say the least, but I think everyone residing in Slender Manor is unique in some way or another.

He's the kinda guy that will steal someone's lunch but then spend the rest of his life denying that he ever did even when the evidence is right there in front of everyone.

He's not a prankster like Kagekao is, but he also isn't a stick-in-the-mud that doesn't know how to have fun, either. If the right opportunity presents itself, he will indeed have a good time.

His sense of humor is...questionable.

"What's red, small, and sits in a corner?"

Queue the looks of confusion.

"A baby chewing on a razor blade."

Like I said...it's questionable.

Surprisingly enough, he and Clockwork get along fairly well. They're both a fan of dark humor, are keen on people getting hurt as a result of their own stupidity, and adore making their housemate's lives as miserable as possible.

This can be done by either cracking crude jokes, starting fights just cause, and making fun of someone for the dumbest possible reasons.

Ones like Liu, Cody, and Toby have discovered insecurities that they never even knew they had before for these exact things.

For example, Liu now makes a big effort to pluck his nose hairs because they're "long and gross", Cody is now constantly on-edge for worrying about his "thin lips", and Toby just stays in his room more often because he doesn't wanna be around people who see him as nothing more than a "depressed son of a bitch".

Jonathan is one of the taller ones of the Creeps, reaching a height of 6'3". He's also one of the more well-built ones, so he's pretty strong. And trust me, he will show that trait off any moment he gets.

He isn't self-centered, in fact, he's to the point of not even caring what he looks like, but he knows it makes people like Jeff who are very boastful about their appearance mad, so of course he flaunts that around a lot just to see his face of absolute resentment.

When someone dares to bring up his past life, his love life especially, he gets extremely sensitive and blows up at whoever it is, even if they were only genuinely curious. When this happens, he gets over it pretty quickly, but it still makes him angry for reasons unknown to everyone but Slenderman.

He never thought about having another girlfriend, not after what happened, only preferring to live alone eternally. It sounds lonely, but that's what he wants. In his opinion, being in a relationship would just needlessly complicate things, and bring back bitter memories he would rather just not remember.

At times in vulnerability, he does miss his little siblings, since he was the oldest and therefore responsible for their well-being because his garbage mother refused to take care of them herself. This left him being forced to drop out of school and get a full-time job at just 15 in an effort to pay bills and make sure his brother and sisters didn't lose their home.

He shows his occasional sadness through complete anger, and just about everyone knows not to screw with him when he's in this state.

The only person in the entire house that he's really fond of is Sally, and that's mainly because she reminds him of one of his younger sisters, and he treats her as such, even though she can find him intimidating at times.

He hates dogs with a passion. This is why he and Jeff are rivals in particular. If anyone dislikes Smile, Jeff dislikes them. That's just how it goes.

Jonathan is more of a reptile person than anything - in fact, when he was around 12, he owned a couple of pet salamanders. The family dog got ahold of them though so that ended badly...it also explains why he doesn't adore dogs like most people.

This guy is perhaps the most charming individual in the Manor when he wants to be, which makes it all the more deprecating whenever he sweet-talks someone then turns around and insults them. Which of course, makes it more hilarious to him.

He lives to watch someone's expression fall from flattered to discouraged in an instant.

Definitely one of the more disliked members in the mansion because he can be so cruel and overall just annoying, especially to well-tempered ones like Brian, Jane, and Liu.

scariest pasta imo but my reasoning is a weird story that im not sure if i hallucinated or not anyways spread the word or something like that

jotchua.jpg