almost creepypasta


My good friend and voice actor Patrick Ferguson recently released his independent feature “ZALGO”, based on the titular internet legend. I’m honoured to be a part of it and definitely recommend it if you enjoy some good ol’ fashioned, low-budget horror fun!

It’s almost as scary as the person who created Zalgo… almost.

The Ask Jeff and Jack Multiverse

So, this is a theory to explain the various versions of Toby, throughout the BaptismOnFire and Team Rammyz Ask Series. I will be covering 4 universes. The TobyVerse (Ask Ticci Toby Series), The AskVerse (Ask Jeff and Jack, the Jeff The Killer Christmas special), the BOFVerse (The Creepypasta short films made by BaptismOnFire), and finally, the JeffVerse (New Jeff’s Original Universe *unseen*). First, the distinction between these universes. In the TobyVerse, we see alternate versions of Jeff and Jack, meaning it’s separate from the other universes. You can tell the differences between the AskVerse, and the BOF universe by personality change between characters. In the BOFVerse, we see Toby having a existential crisis, similar to the one we see Toby have later in the AskVerse. The BOFVerse also shows Jack helping Toby, something AskVerse Jack would never do. The BOFVerse Toby also has the goggles, much like the ones Jeff shows Jack and Toby to show that he is a dimension jumper. I think these four universes are supposed to show various sides of the Creepypasta fandom.

The RammyzVerse shows the ill effects of Slenderman on his proxies, the BOFVerse also touches on this, while the AskVerse is almost a satire about creepypasta, and how unscary it is. This is shown by the Meta Jokes, like the actor for Jeff showing up in a episode (Jack after this point is referring to the owner of the channel BaptismOnFire), and even showing the riduculousness of websites interpretations, like the Deviant Art episode.

So what do you think?

Also, thank you to @baptismonfire and @rammyzcosplay for bringing us these amazing series.

Halloween Spirit- Creepypasta Boyfriend Scenarios [When He's Jealous]


[f/n]= first name


When He’s Jealous

After spending more time at what I now know is dubbed the Creepypasta Manor (what the heck does Creepypasta mean?), not only have I become closer with my captor, but I’ve also become closer with the other residents. While it makes me question my sanity,  I’ve come to regard the Creepypastas almost like family. I’m starting to feel at home here, and I don’t know what that says about me. These people are killers! But I can’t help how I feel, so I’ll continue treating them like my family. That is, until the day they decide to kill me as well.


I turn another page of the book, completely absorbed in the story. After finding out I like horror stories, Slendie had bothered to bring me a few books of the horror genre. Sadly, though, I’m on the last one he had brought me, and it’s at its end. I reach the suspenseful climax, clinging to the book as I read the book’s final page. Finished…I sigh as I shut the book. Slendie is still not home yet, and now I have nothing to read. What shall I do now?

“Hey there, [f/n],” someone greets me. I turn around to find Ben smirking at me.

“Hey, Ben,” I greet him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he responds. “I’m bored out of my little digital mind.”

“As am I,” I sigh. An idea occurs to me. “Oh, I know! Want to play video games with me to pass the time?”

“Sure, I’ve got nothing better to do,” he replies with a shrug. He grins at me evilly. “But I warn you, games with me don’t turn out the way they should.”

I grin at him. “That’s fine!” I respond. I’m curious as to what he means!


    “That’s so cool!” I cry as Luigi’s head explodes into a mess of blood and brain matter. Ben had stocked up on video games once I had beaten Majora’s Mask. We are currently playing Mario, with Ben as Mario and me as Luigi. However, with Ben’s adjustments, the characters tend to die very gruesome deaths, and the monsters act much more viciously than they had before. It’s like I’m playing a horror game, and I’m enjoying every minute of it.

“It shouldn’t be cool, I’m winning you know,” Ben says smugly. We’re competing to see who can die less, and so far, Ben is way ahead of me.

I scowl at him. “I’m sure you’re cheating! You’re rigging the game so the monsters don’t attack you as much!” I accuse him.

“Nuh uh, I’m just better than you!” he declares as he smashes in the head of a Koopa, its blood splattering.

I return my attention back to the game in determination. “We’ll see about that!” I challenge him.


“No!” I cry when Ben passes the finishing point. I lost!

“Ha! Victory is mine!” Ben whoops. “In your face, loser!”

I glower at him as he performs a victory dance. “You…you…cheater!” I growl as I tackle him to the floor. “Admit it, you cheated!”

“No way!” he laughs as he struggles to get me off of him. I pound my fists against him lightly.

“Cheater, cheater, cheater!” I whine.  

“[f/n]?” a voice calls. Slendie enters the room, witnessing me pinning Ben to the ground.

“Ah, hey Slendie!” I greet him. Ben struggles under me, but I smirk at Ben as I press down on him tighter.

Suddenly, my vision is swimming with static. Huh? “Hey, Slender, stop that!” Ben cries.

“What’s going on?” Slendie asks. His voice seems darker than usual, so something tells me Slendie is the one filling my mind with static.

“Ben cheated,” I mumble. “So I’m punishing him.”

“I did not!” Ben cries indigintaly.

Slendie walks over to me and yanks me off of Ben. He stands in front of me, his towering figure blocking my line of sight. Oh no, he’s mad at me! “Slendie?” I say questioningly, my face scrunched in worry.

But he ignores me, instead fixing his attention onto Ben. “Ben,” he says threateningly. “I’d appreciate it if you would not get [f/n] involved with your antics.”

Ben glares up at Slendie, but replies, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Slendie says curtly. He grabs my arms and drags me out of the room. “Good day, Ben.”

As we are walking, Slendie will not let go of my arm. “Slendie, you’re hurting me!” I cry as he squeezes my arm.

“My apologies,” he replies and releases my arm. I continue to follow him as he walks briskly down the hall.

“Why are you mad?” I ask him.

He stops walking and turns to face me. “You should not straddle a man in such a way, [f/n]. It can invite certain actions,” he tells me.

Certain actions? Wait, what- My face erupts into a deep red. “Oh no, it wasn’t like that!” I cry rapidly. “I was just teasing him, that’s all!” Wait, why would Slendie care? Was he…was he jealous? Why would he be jealous? No, surely he’s just worried about me. I gently grab his hand and give him a reassuring smile. “Nothing was going to happen.”

Our fingers entwine and he pulls me closer to him. “It would of been a shame if something did happen. I would hate to have to dispose of Ben.” Whoa, dispose? I didn’t think he would go that far for me! To Slendie, everyone here is his precious family. But…does that mean I’m part of the family, too?

I smile warmly at him. “Well, thanks for worrying about me, even if it wasn’t necessary.” We walk in silence when something occurs to me. “Oh yeah, what was that static thing about?”

“Oh, ah, sorry, that was unintentional,” Slendie replies, his voice sounding odd. Curious, I peek at his face. He’s flushed red!

“Whoa, you’re red!” I exclaim. “What’re you embarassed for?”

“No particular reason,” he replies, then hurriedly tries to change the subject. “Ah, by the way, I brought you more books.” (What he doesn’t want to tell me is that the static was the result of his powers going out of control due to his jealousy).

Even though it’s obvious he is hiding something from me, I decide to let it go. “Really? Could you show me them?”

“My pleasure,” Slendie responds, his voice carrying a hint of relief. We head to the library, where he shows me the new books.

I gotta say, Slendie looks cute when he’s red!



I groan as I stretch, my back cracking in protest. Playing video games for hours straight can take its toll on your body. “Ugh, I need a break, Ben,” I say as I stand up, stretching my legs.

He shrugs his shoulders in response. “Eh, whatever. I’m going to take a break, too. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, yeah, phone with me at all times,” I respond. Once Ben trusted me enough to let me walk around, he had gotten me a phone to keep in contact with him. With his interference, however, I am unable to actually call anybody. The phone is just so that Ben can teleport to wherever I am at any given time. So in other words, if I try to escape, he’ll know it.

Ben yawns before waving me off. While he doesn’t actually need to sleep, he gets tired if he is manifested in the real world for too long. “Night, Ben,” I say with a wave. He flickers for a moment before disappearing. I get to walking, eager to keep moving after sitting still for so long. The halls are, as usual, empty and quiet. Which is quite peaceful, but after awhile, becomes rather boring. However, just as the boredom was about to become too much for me, I notice something at the corner of my eye.

I scream as I notice Slenderman, who was blending quite well in the shadows. “Jeez, Slendie,” I gasp out. “I didn’t see you there!”

“My apologies,” he says, his voice bemused. “I was just on my way for a stroll. Care to join me?”

I get to go outside? I haven’t been outside in what feels like forever! While Ben trusts me to roam the manor, the trust level hasn’t quite reached the outdoors yet. I think it’s because the lack of technology weakens Ben. “Of course!” I reply enthusiastically. “I’d love to!”

“Well then, follow me. Be careful to not get lost, it is easy to do so in these woods,” he tells me.

“Got it,” I reply cheerfully, and begin following him. When we step outside, I take a deep breath of the fresh air. Ah, how I missed it! The leaves crunch delightfully under my feet, and I’m practically skipping as I follow Slendie. I glance up to admire the small amount of sunlight trickling through the leaves as I walk.

Which was a bad idea. A tree root catches my foot, causing me to thud heavily against the ground. As I fell, my ankle twisted painfully, causing me to grunt in pain. “Are you alright, [f/n]?” Slendie asks me as he crouches by my side.

I free my foot from the tree root, my ankle throbbing. “I think I twisted my ankle,” I reply with a wince. Suddenly, arms are wrapped around me as I am lifted into the air. “Ah, Slendie!” I cry as I wrap my arms around his neck for fear of falling.

“I shall carry you home,” he tells me. “You are in no condition to walk.”

“Thank you,” I mumble embarrassedly. I hold on to him as he walks so I’ll feel like I won’t fall.

But he only manages to take a few steps before something flickers in front of us. Ben stands before us, his eyes glaring. “What’s going on here?” he asks.

I blink in surprise, but quickly recover. “I twisted my ankle while walking with Slendie, so he’s carrying me home.” He glares at us for a moment longer before spreading out his arms. I stare at him, confused. “What?” I ask him.

“I’m carrying you,” he says firmly.

“No need,” Slendie replies. “It’s fine, I’m fully capable of carrying [f/n] myself.”

I’m carrying [f/n],” Ben insists, his voice coming out in a hiss. I’m utterly confused as I watch Slendie and Ben stare each other down.

Eventually, though, Slendie caves in. “Alright, here,” he says, crouching down and gently placing me in Ben’s arms. My arms instinctively wrap around his neck, clinging to him. “I’ll meet you two at home,” Slendie says, and with that, he vanishes.

I say nothing as Ben silently carries me. His movements are glitchy, and he fumbles a few times, but he holds on to me tightly. “Are you ok?” I ask worriedly. The only source of technology nearby is my phone, which doesn’t provide Ben with a lot of energy.

“I’m fine,” he replies curtly.

“Are you mad?” I ask him, my eyes saddened.

“Kind of,” he mumbles.


“You came out here without me and ended up hurt. You need to be more careful!” he replies (But truly, he was just jealous that Slenderman had held me. Seeing me in Slenderman’s arms really irked him).

“I’m sorry,” I apologise quietly. “I tend to be a clutz sometimes.”

“Well, you’re grounded until I say you’re not,” Ben replies.

“Wait, grounded?” I cry. “I’m not a child!”

He smirks down at me. “As defenseless and childish as you are, you may as well be a child.”

“Meanie!” I grumble. I pout for a little bit before I realize something. “Hey, why did you insist on carrying me? Slendie could of handled it just fine.”

To my surprise, Ben’s face flushes red. After a moment, he replies, “You’re my responsibility.” Oh, is that it? Why is he acting embarrassed, though? I decide to drop it, though, for Ben starts avoiding my questioning gaze.   

When we get home, Ben refuses to let Jack treat my wound and does it himself.

I wonder why Ben acted so strangely today?


Jeff the Killer:

“No, wait, stop!” I cry as Jeff grins viciously at me. But he doesn’t listen as he tosses me over his shoulder, throwing me to the ground. I cry in pain as my palms scrape against the cement.

“I win!” Jeff cries victoriously. He had been giving me lessons in hand-to-hand combat for a while now, to the point where I had actually become good at it. Today’s lesson had escalated to a duel to see who would win, even though I figured I would lose.

I scowl up at him as I cradle my throbbing palms. “You jerk!” I shout at him as angry tears sting my eyes. “You didn’t have to throw me!”

His grin becomes sheepish as he offers me his hand. “Sorry, I got carried away,” he apologises, but I smack his hand away. I’m still pissed, and being in pain didn’t help.

“I’m going to go see Jack about treating this,” I mumble as I help myself up. Before Jeff can respond, I’m storming away.

“[f/n], wait-” he cries, but I interrupt him.

“I’ll be back once my hands are cleaned up,” I tell him, a threat in my voice telling him to not follow me. I need some time to cool down, or I’ll just be edgy with him. I can’t afford to piss him off, because he is a psychopath, even if I forget it sometimes. He doesn’t follow me as I walk to Jack’s infirmary.

“Jack?” I call into the room.

“Yes?” Jack’s quiet voice answers.

I open my palms to him, displaying my injury. “I scraped my hands, so I was wondering if you could fix them up?”

He walks over to me, taking my hands in his as he inspects them. How can he see with no eyes? I don’t bother asking, because I don’t know if he’ll be offended or not. “Sure,” he replies, walking away to rummage through his medical supplies. He returns with disinfectant. “This will sting a bit.”

“Ok,” I reply, holding my hands out for him. He takes a cotton swab and soaks it in disinfectant before dabbing the swab onto my hands. It stings as he rubs in the disinfectant, but it doesn’t hurt that much. “Thanks,” I say with a smile as he finishes.

“No problem,” he murmurs, gazing at me eyelessly. Suddenly, he lifts his hand and takes a strand of my hair.

“Jack?” I say questioningly as I try to not jerk away from the contact. I don’t want to make him mad. He doesn’t say anything as he fiddles with the strand. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable as his hand roams from my hair to my cheek, his hand stroking my skin.

Suddenly, a hand grips my wrist, tugging me away. “[f/n]’s my property, Jack. You know the rules,” Jeff growls.

“Jeff!” I cry in relief. Jeff glares angrily at Jack, who tilts his head in response.

“Sorry,” Jack apologises softly, emotionlessly.

“Tch!” Jeff scoffs. “Don’t let it happen again!” He swivels around and stomps out of the room, dragging me with him.

“Thanks, Jeff,” I thank him quietly. “I wasn’t sure what I should’ve done, so I’m glad you came along.”

“You shouldn’t of let him touch you, that’s what you should of done!” Jeff snaps.

I flinch at his tone. Gazing at the ground dejectedly, I murmur, “Sorry… Sorry for getting mad at you before, too.” Jeff glances back at me, frowning at my ‘kicked puppy’ appearance.

He sighs loudly before leading me to a chair, forcing me to sit down. “Let me see your hands,” he demands.

I blink up at him in surprise, but I obediently offer him my hands. His fingers softly wrap around them, the feeling a lot different from when Jack had held my hands. He brings my hands close to his face, inspecting them. “Sorry for getting you hurt,” he murmurs.

I smile reassuringly at him. “It’s fine, I overreacted,” I reply.

“I’ll help with the pain,” he declares. Suddenly, he brings my hands to his lips. He places multiple soft kisses on the injury.

“Jeff!” I cry, yanking my hands away. My face is completely flushed in heat as I hold my hands against my rapidly beating heart.

“You’re supposed to kiss boo-boos, aren’t you? To kiss it and make it better?” Jeff says teasingly as he smirks at me.

“Jerk!” I cry shrilly as I glare at him, my heart refusing to slow down.

Why does Jeff have to tease me so much?


Ticci Toby:

It is so unbearably quiet when Toby’s not around. I have gotten too used to his constant chatter. I’ve even got used to the sounds of his neck cracking each time he twitches. I actually kind of miss that cracking as I lay on my bed, the dead silence surrounding me. I. Am. So. Bored. Toby come back, I can’t stand this! I mean, you’re a psychopath who kidnapped me and won’t let me leave this manor, and quite frankly I should be avoiding you at all costs, but I need you around to kill the boredom!

“Found you,” a singsong voice calls. I swivel around to find Jeff grinning at me. “I have something to show you.”

Haha! No. “What, specifically, are you trying to show me?” I question him suspiciously. Jeff has always been one to antagonise me, and sometimes I’m not sure if I’m safe around him. It seems like everyone here is under some oath to not harm me in any way, but that doesn’t mean they don’t try to scare me.

“Trust me, you’ll get a kick out of it. It has to do with Toby,” Jeff tells me. Curiosity builds up at the mention of Toby. What is it that he wants to show me that he wouldn’t show me when Toby’s around?

Unable to help my curiosity, I mumble out, “Ok, but no funny business!”

“But what I’m going to show you is hilarious!” he protests.

“You know what I mean!” I snap at him. “Alright, so what is it?”

He pulls out a notebook from his hoodie’s pocket. “Toby’s diary,” he declares triumphantly.

“He has a diary?” I exclaim, admittedly finding it funny. I don’t think a lot of guys have diaries, but seems like Toby does.

“And what he writes in it is hilarious,” Jeff says as he waves the diary around. “Care to read it with me?”

I know it’s rude and an invasion of privacy to read his diary, but my curiosity is eating away at me. I really, really want to read it! So I reply to him, “Alright, fine.” What Toby doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?


    “What the hell, dancing waffles?” I laugh out, clutching my sides. Toby, as I have learned before, tends to have a lot of delusions. Which, consequently, is what fills this diary. God, the things he wrote!

    “[f/n]?” Toby calls, startling me. I rapidly throw the diary behind me and squish myself against Jeff to keep the diary completely out of sight. “What are you two doing?”

“Nothing, nothing!” I hurriedly reply. “Just hanging out with my good pal Jeff!”

Jeff wraps his arm around my shoulder, grinning widely. “Yep!” Jeff chirps. “Just chit-chatting, we are.” We both grin widely as Toby’s eyes dart between the two of us. His gaze focuses on Jeff’s arm that is wrapped around me. His twitching, I realize, has become much more frequent, and he starts to stumble nervously.

“W-w-when did y-you two become s-so cl-close?” he asks in his stutter. Normally, he only stutters when he is under distress, so I’m starting to get worried.

“What’cha talkin’ ‘bout?” I say cheerfully. “We’ve always been close friends! Right, Jeff?”

Very close,” Jeff replies, pulling me closer.

At this, Toby’s eyes glaze over in anger. “H-h-hands off!” he shouts, and charges at Jeff. I’m shocked as Jeff is tackled to the ground.

“Whoa, Toby?” I cry as Toby unclips a hatchet. “Calm down!” I grab at his arm, straining to keep it from flinging down into Jeff’s face.

“Get off!” Jeff growls as he whips out a knife.

“Stop!” I screech. “Toby, please!” I pull with all my might, tugging Toby off of Jeff. I know what it’s like when Toby is having one of his mood swings, so I know I have to get him far away from Jeff. I tug him to his feet and pull him with me as I run from the room.

“Let me go!” Toby shouts at me. “I’m going to kill that bastard!”

“Toby, calm down,” I say in a soothing tone. We make it to my bedroom, where I force Toby to sit down on my bed. I ease the hatchet out of his hand, tossing it to the floor, before I embrace him. If I hold him like this, he won’t be able to make a dash for it. “It’s ok, it’s ok.”

His arms wrap tightly around me, holding me close. “[f/n]…,” he murmurs, my name almost sounding like a sob as it comes out of his mouth.

“What’s wrong?” I ask gently.

“You like Jeff more than me,” he mumbles dejectedly.

“What?” I gasp as I pull away, just enough so that I can look into his face. “No way! Jeff scares the shit out of me. If I had to choose, I’d choose you in a heartbeat.” Despite his mood swings, I feel the safest when I’m with Toby, oddly enough.

“You’re not going to leave me?” he whimpers.

I laugh at his question. “Do I have a choice?” I ask him. Honestly, he kidnapped me! “I’m here, aren’t I?” I squeeze him reassuringly. “So don’t worry.”

“I’m glad!” Toby cheers, lifting me in a bear hug as he bolts up. Suddenly, he carries me to the hallway and screams at the top of his lungs, “[f/n] likes me better!” I just know he’s screaming at Jeff, and I roll my eyes at his childishness.

Jeez, he’s just like a child!


Eyeless Jack:

“Jack?” I call as I study some strange two headed lizard in a jar. “Um, where is this supposed to go?”

    “Top shelf,” he responds.

    “For the record, I think this two headed lizard thing is seriously cool,” I say with a grin as I place the jar on the top shelf. “Did I ever mention that you remind me of the father in this horror game I played, called Mad Father? He was this mad scientist-slash-doctor. I should have you play it sometime.”

    “Game? Like the one Ben inhabits?” Jack asks.

    “Yeah, but this game won’t have a real life ghost living in it,” I tell him. “Ok, what else do we need to put up?”

    Before he can respond, the sound of stomping feet approaches us. “[f/n]!” a voice calls, and Toby appears in the doorway. Before I can react, arms wrap around me as Toby tackles me in a glomp.

“Toby?” I say is surprise. “What is it?”

“I found you!” he cheers. “I want you to make me some waffles. You make them really good!”

“Well, I…,” I glance at Jack helplessly. I already agreed to help Jack sort his storage room, but knowing Toby, Toby will literally stick to me until I do as he says. Or worse, he’ll have one of his mood swings. “Sorry, Jack. I’ll be right back. I’ll make his waffles and then I’ll continue helping you.”

Toby grabs my hand and proceeds to drag me out of the room. “Let’s go!” Toby declares.

But he only manages a few steps before another hand grips my free one. I turn around to meet Jack with a questioning gaze. “Jack?”

“Let go,” Toby complains as he tugs on me, but Jack keeps me in place.

“….Don’t go,” he says.

“Why?” I ask, stunned.

“You promised to play this ‘game’ with me,” he mutters, tightening his grip on my hand.

I glance nervously between Toby and Jack. Oh no, what do I do now? “Um, how about this? Jack, you can come with me while I make waffles, and then me and you will go play video games.”

Jack, as usual, is silent. But it doesn’t seem like his usual silence, which makes me nervous. But to my relief, he replies, “Sure.”

However, when Toby goes to tug at me again, Jack still refuses to move. I glance at Toby. “How about you go ahead of us? We’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Toby shrugs, and replies, “Alrighty, but don’t take too long!” And with that, he dashes off.

I turn my attention back to Jack, who is still tightly gripping my hand. “Jack, really, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t like it,” he mutters.

“Don’t like what?” I push.

“You running off with Toby clinging to you.”

Whoa, wait, what? “Are you jealous?” I exclaim in surprise. To this, Jack doesn’t respond. Um, ok? Unable to help it, I laugh at Jack. He stares at me silently as I explain, “I knew Toby was childish, but I didn’t know you could be too. Well, when Toby’s determined, you can’t shake him off. So, when he needs me for something, you can come with if you want. And, I’ll try to get him to stop hugging me and stuff.” Emphasis on try. “So don’t get upset, ok?”

“Fine,” he mumbles.

“Alright, then let’s go.” Gently, I tug him towards me. He complies, and we make our way to the kitchen. He stays grumpy until Toby leaves. I cheer him up by playing Mad Father with him.

Who knew Jack could actually be kind of childish?

anonymous asked:

Tell me more about your OC please! The toothy one!

i’m in the process of writing his story, so I don’t wanna spoiler anything major

but heres a little more random info:

  • he has a major case of PTSD, due to several traumatic events
  • he talks to himself a lot (mostly inside his mind)
  • the animalistic part of his brain tends to overtake when he’s hunting or feels he’s in danger and he will lash out violently.
  • in that state he has a hard time discerning between friend or foe, so he’ll just maul everything in sight
  • he identifies people by sense of smell, mostly.
  • he really likes high places and will climb on something to sleep.
  • his view of reality is skewed and warped and he’s given up on trying to find out if something is real or just a hallucination
  • he’s very much a loose canon with little to no self-control
  • he’s also a bit of a loner, which is probably an occupational hazard
  • his mental problems were left untreated for like a century, so he’s pretty fucked up.
  • he’s got a very dark and dry sense of humour and likes to play with his food.
  • He can be pretty sadistic and cruel
  • so far he’s got an impressive track record with a win rate of almost 100%
drinking game

take a shot every time an oc in any creepypasta x oc fanfic

  • has red eyes
  • has eyes that turn red when they “go insane”
  • are really just a female version of the creepypasta they’re being shipped with
  • has a name almost identical to the creepypasta they’re being shipped with
  • killed their family
  • met their designated partner when they were supposed to kill them only for them to say “there was just something about her…..idk what it is but i just couldnt kill her”
  • becomes the subject of a love decahedron
  • is slenderman’s daughter
  • Me: Dad, if you think people are crazy, have you heard about those kids who tried to kill someone to sacrifice them to Slenderman?
  • Dad: What's a "slender man?"
  • My brother: *looks at me*
  • Me: *looks at my brother, then looks at my brother's girlfriend*
  • My brother's girlfriend: *looks at me, then looks at my brother*
  • The 3 of us realize he only uses facebook and no other social media
  • Me: *shows dad an image of Slenderman*
  • Dad: What is that?
  • Me: That's Slenderman.
  • My brother's girlfriend: Why would you even try to kill someone for Slenderman? I've never heard of that before.
  • Me: I thought I heard they saw it on creepypasta or something.
  • Dad: "Creepy pasta?"
  • Everyone but my dad: *sighs*

PuppetMaster’s Regime - Act II [Creepypasta Narration] by Hagenisnotacat


A new creepypasta reading for ya’ll over at my youtube, go over and check it out!

“Join Us For A CreepyPasta Night,
Full Of Horror And Endless Fright”

Okay! So long story short, I once saw an AMAZING fusion drawing between CreepsMcPasta and MrCreepyPasta and I got super inspiered and wanted to make a pic of what I think could be an awesome Fusion of em’ too!

I take no credit in coming up with the idea, but sadly I can’t find the original sketch buried within my over 3,000 likes. ((I may have added a few extra detail tho’))

Creepypasta from Reddit

Okay, so apparently I’m crazy. It’s possible. And I don’t mean like the kind of crazy those dumb little twelve-year-old weeaboos on the Internet claim they are. No, I think I might actually be losing my mind. I just… I mean, sometimes my imagination gets the better of me. Was this ever real? Does anyone remember abistigmata besides me?

I’d like to make this short, but I can’t. This is big. This is… real. Or so I think. Is it? I was told to make it a creepypasta, but the story is so creepy it really doesn’t require much effort to make it into a pasta. If you want to know what this is about, it’s about a creepypasta reader who might have done more than just read creepypastas. But please read it.

Here’s what happened. It did happen. I know it did. It happened while I was watching one of theLittleFears’ videos on YouTube back in 2010, and I came across a similar video in the sidebar with an intriguing title. It was called “Don’t Walk Down Walnut Street.” Ordinary title for a creepypasta, but I live on a Walnut Street. So I clicked on it. The username was “abistigmata,” which I later learned was pronounced like “Abby Stigmata,” and the video had almost 200,000 views. The story was your average, run-of-the-mill creepypasta and it gave me nightmares for the next week.

The story wasn’t all that haunting beyond the usual “is-someone-watching-me” jitters that come with things like that. The scary part was the way abistigmata read it. He had the absolute perfect voice for reading creepypastas. It was this incredibly sexy and unsettling Eastern European accent, and he read the story as though he was the one there, but he wasn’t the victim–he was whatever was haunting the victim. That voice was what made him famous.

I soon learned that he had accounts on a few other websites besides YouTube–reddit and deviantart to name two–all with the username “abistigmata.” He was fairly popular for a creepypasta reader, with some of his videos getting around 150,000 hits, and I noticed that he had even done an Internet AMA on reddit at one point. I was enthralled by his voice, and I wasn’t the only one. Almost every single comment mentioned his smug, alluring accent, and I soon decided that I wanted to hear more of it.

As I worked through his videos, which started around 2005, I noticed periodically he would break character a bit and do an FAQ video–in his deliciously creepy accent, of course. There were five so far, from 2005 to 2010. I watched the first one, from 2005, and learned that his accent was Russian, where he had been raised before he moved to America. He was in his late twenties and lived alone. That was generally all he said about himself–the rest were about where he found the creepypastas, whether he wrote them himself, editing software and what have you. He was very conservative about his identity, which I admired, and made a point of never showing his face online.

abistigmata didn’t just read creepypastas. Sometimes he acted them out. Some were shot professionally, like a movie, but others were of the hand-held “Paranormal Activity” genre. There were only about twelve videos so far like that, and most of them only had one or two actors–never abistigmata himself, though. It seemed like they were collaborations from redditors or YouTubers or something, because in the credits, “special thanks” was always given to names like “annaxxholic” or “josho417” instead of people’s actual names. Also, notably, no same actor was in two different movies.

Listening to him read his creepypastas and answer FAQs, I started to feel a little odd about him. He acted almost smug, like he knew something we didn’t, and it bothered me. Instead of someone sharing the fear, it was like he was making it scarier.

Two things I noticed about abistigmata, however, are what sends this way farther into creepy territory, and they’re why I need help finding someone else who knows about this guy.

One was the way he dealt with haters… or, actually, the way I realized he dealt with haters.

Like all YouTube stars, especially cryptic, tongue-in-cheek ones, abistigmata had tons of haters. The petty comments from 12-year-old trolls he left alone. But every once in a while, somebody would make a really smart-assed, venomous comment about, say, his unoriginality or his perfectly creepy voice. Those he would respond to. Mostly the hater would leave, and wisely so. But sometimes they didn’t. And if they were persistent enough, regardless of the topic or argument, abistigmata would leave one last line:

“I think I’ll make a movie today.”

That comment would always get top-voted and, sure enough, he would always make one of his acted-out creepypastas that day. After a while, though, I started to notice something very, very off about that process.

It started about a month ago when I happened to stumble across a flame war still in its hottest stages. The argument this time was about, you guessed it, religion. Apparently, abistigmata was a Satanist or something of the sort and some kid named “TheJorMan,” also a fan of having the same name on many different websites, had taken issue. The argument itself was on YouTube, but when I clicked on TheJorMan’s channel I noticed that he had a reddit account as well. Being the petty-minded fangirl I was, I decided I would make a HUGE difference and downvote everything he’d ever posted. (I didn’t choose the thug life…)

I clicked on TheJorMan’s reddit account and did my duty, then returned to YouTube only to happily realize that abistigmata had posted his famous line. Feeling triumphant, I decided to cruise reddit for a while via TheJorMan’s account page. But when I clicked on it, I noticed something odd. It had changed. His comments were all erased, as well as his posts. When I refreshed the page, it gave me the broken reddit page a couple times before it brought me back to his user page, with his name listed as [deleted]. I found it a little strange, but I’d forgotten in about an hour.

That night, abistigmata made one of his acted-creepypasta videos. It wasn’t original, but it was creepy all the same. It was that old pasta about the hunter who finds a cabin filled with portraits that all turn out to be windows. Then abistigmata showed a part that wasn’t included in the original pasta. The hunter was running through the woods, panting so heavily it seemed like he was crying, occasionally glancing behind him. It was shaky camerawork and you could tell the actor was holding the camera. Then the hunter screamed, dropping the camera. It was angled in such a way that it caught his shocked, bloody face as if you were lying right next to him. Then the man was slowly dragged away, and the screen cut to static.

I was about to click to another one of his videos when I noticed the credits and felt my insides jump. The only line was in plain white text, and all it read was “Special thanks to TheJorMan.”

Those were all the credits. I checked the description and there was no mention of any other actors or cameramen besides abistigmata himself. Nobody in the comments seemed to realize the correlation.

I searched for TheJorMan’s YouTube channel, only to be told that it had been taken down, just the same as his reddit. It was obvious that I wasn’t going to glean anything from that side, so instead, I did some digging on abistigmata. I searched all of the twenty or so names given in the “special thanks” credits. Google, YouTube, even tumblr–all the accounts had existed in some place or another, but were now inactive.

I had been digging pretty deep back in the early 2000’s looking for clues and eventually wound up on abistigmata’s deviantart page. And that’s where, amongst his oldest drawings, I found the second thing that rattled me.

abistigmata had always posted really creepy drawings on his deviantart, and the early ones were no different. Then I stumbled upon a picture I wish for the life of me I had saved to my hard drive right then and there.

The title of the picture was “Dark Harbringer,” and it was the full version of abistigmata’s current deviant and YouTube profile pic. It was an original, heavily edited, black-and-white photograph of a shirtless man with long black hair taking a classic “mirror picture” with an iPhone in a filthy bathroom covered in blood. The man’s hair covered his eyes, but not his smug smirk, and behind him were a pair of sweeping, dark-feathered wings.

I was preparing to leave a comment when two things caught my attention. One was the date of the publication of the photograph, and the other was the fact that he was holding the iPhone.

It had been published in 2004, three years before the iPhone had ever been released.

I checked to see if the picture had been edited. It hadn’t been.

Then I did something that I never, ever should have done.

I messaged him.

I messaged abistigmata himself on every medium I could think of. I even made a tumblr to get to him there. Reddit, YouTube, deviantart, anything. I don’t even remember exactly what I said. It was something along the lines of “what happened to TheJorMan, and why is the Dark Harbringer holding an iPhone in 2004?”

I waited, but of course he didn’t message me back. I assumed he didn’t even check most of that kind of stuff.

After posting nothing for two weeks, abistigmata made another video. The normal kind, just a black screen with him reading a creepypasta aloud.

But it wasn’t a creepypasta. I don’t know how to describe it. It was weird. It was unnatural. It was downright wrong.

It makes me really fucking freaked out even now just thinking about it. I must have listened to the goddamn thing thirty times, and my heart jittered like I had just seen a shock image every time. It’s the only proof I have, and it’s barely even proof. I’ll explain, but first read the transcript. I wrote it all down. On paper, so he couldn’t get to me. And with the accent. I just can’t write abistigmata’s words using th’s…

“You are a young kid. Sixteen, hair still almost blond, don’t even have your license yet. You’re even trying to convince yourself zat you need to shave. But really, Jordan, you are only a child.

“You’re not a gullible person, Jordan. You’re hardened, jaded by ze Internet, you aren’t scared by creepypastas, and you look down on people who are. And people who read zhem aloud, apparently, Jordan. You sit at your desk, typing furiously on zat sleek vhite computer your mommy and daddy bought for you. You foam at ze lips. ‘Stop liking zis guy. He doesn’t put any effort into his videos. He just talks. In a probably fake accent, too. Zis guy sucks, and for all his faggot fans, grow a pair. zeLittleFears and Marble Hornets are much better.’

“Vell, Jordan. Zat’s just rude, now. And you von’t even catch my hints vhen I respond, Jordan. But vhen I come for you, you’ll know. You’ll feel woozy. Ze screen vill go dark. And ze next sing you know, you are being blinded by ze bright light of a camera. You relax. Don’t relax, Jordan. It isn’t your friends playing a trick on you. It’s me. Just me. Don’t vorry about anysing, Jordan. I’ll take care of everysing. You von’t even have to move. You can’t, anyvay.

“You cannot speak, for ze hunter never uttered a vord. You can’t control your movement, your actions, except for ze fear. Ze fear is all real, Jordan, as it vas for Michael and Joshua and Rumer and Anna and all ze vons before you who dared push me zis far. And ze pain, ze blood, ze darkness vill be real, Jordan.

“But not ze story. Because, as you know, creepypastas aren’t real. It’s all… just… an act.”

The reading was two minutes long, but the video lasted three minutes. I nervously scanned ahead to see if there was a screamer, but there wasn’t, so I sat through and watched thirty seconds of black screen before I heard abistigmata’s very distinctive voice again, even more smug than usual.

“Does zat answer your qvestion, Emily?”

He was talking to me. He was talking to me through my computer screen and I know it because my name is Emily and I’m scared.

And I can’t find anything about him. Anywhere. His FAQ videos had almost a million views each and I can’t find anyone who knows who he is. And he knows who I am.

That video had four tags. The first was “Emily.” The second was my age. The third was “Walnut Street.” The fourth was “Four thirty five,” which was the exact time I had clicked on the video. And at the very end of the video, one sentence flashed so fast that I had to pause the video to read it.

“Special thanks to hastalapasta666.”

Credits to: Hastalapasta666