Look at this stupid meme I found, I love it- đ
need father charlie BLASPHEMOUSLY
art trade connn!el hdp!! @pexess
My new obsession đ
Me at the function
syn: Eyeless Jack has found himself becoming more isolated over the years, distancing himself from everyone and everything. He considers himself an unforgivable monster, one that shouldnât be a burden to anyone else. After leaving Slenderâs mansion and wondering aimlessly through the woods, he stumbles upon a drunken girl in danger. After saving you, he finds himself completely infatuated with you. Youâre strikingly similar to him, even attending his old college. He battles an internal debate as he falls for you, deciding whether or not to burden you by staying. While Jack fights his internal turmoil, old enemies from an all too familiar college come out to play. Will Jack be able to defeat his oldest enemy? Will he be able to overcome his self conscious fears to save you? Youâd better hope so, since the cult for Chernabog is back and you seem like the perfect sacrifice.
tw: depression
a/n: welcome to the beginning my loves. im sinking my teeth into this slow burn novel and plan on spending lots of time crafting it. enjoy :)
There was a certain emptiness that resonated in Jackâs chest. The kind of emptiness one canât ignore or wash away. The kind that consumed your mind, body, and soul. The kind that Jack couldnât escape, no matter how hard he tried.
Jack considered himself a very run of the mill person. If you took away the demon that controlled a majority of his life, he wasnât interesting. On the inside he was still the same nerdy bookworm who loved the art of medicine. He hated that his one true passion was overshadowed by the monster he had become. Leafs crunched beneath his heavy boots, the dim moonlight illuminating his path. Jack spent nights like this, wandering aimlessly in the shadows of the night. He traveled beyond Slenderâs forest, into human trails. He didnât fear being seen, for his mask and ominous jet black hoodie concealed the freak that he was.
It wasnât as if Jack hadnât tried. He had tried to get better. To feel better. He did everything he could to flesh out his time. He even went as far as to become the mansion's doctor, signing himself up for twenty four hours a day care for any proxy or creep in need. Most of the time he saw the proxies, who tended to get wounded the most. At first he was fascinated, consumed with the notion that his work would be meaningful in the long run. That maybe with hands-on experience he would be able to complete his college education, even if it wasnât in the traditional way. Jack soon discovered his wishes were too far from reality, a majority of his efforts being spent restraining himself from devouring the proxies' organs. He had lost count of how many times Masky or Hoodie had stumbled into his lab, with the same stereotypical gunshot wound or stab wound. Their injuries became like clock work to him, the smell of their exposed wounds beginning to not even faze him anymore.
Jack supposed this was a good thing, if he were to ever be around normal humans. He didnât count on it, his hideous appearance one that would forever restrain him from living any form of a normal life. Jack cringed at the memories of his transition, his face twisting in disgust as he recalled his first moments of being reborn. Slaughtering and terrorizing the cult that had sacrificed him didnât bother him necessarily, what bothered him was what occurred afterwards. With black tar trailing down his face and mangled flesh in between his teeth, Jack went on to attack and kill any breathing specimen whose heartbeat he would hear. This included many innocentâs houses, ones with babies and children. Jackâs stomach churned at the memory of how hard he had to fight himself to not tear apart the children's chest. At the time Jack had no self control and had no will to form one. It wasnât until Slenderman found him that he managed to calm down.Â
Jack was the first creep Slenderman found, even if the demon was in figurative pieces. Truthfully Jackâs loyalty to him was founded once the supernatural creature taught him self control in his new form. Jack knew that the entity was far from a good being. Logically he knew he was most likely a science project for the blank faced creature who walked the Earth alone. As time went on and he founded the mansion, his proxies, etc, Jack knew Slendeman wasnât a good being. He wasnât some guardian angel. He was a monster who thrived off of power. He may have logically known this, but due to The Operator unintentionally saving Jack from slaughtering hundreds upon hundreds of innocent beings, he was a devoted follower who gave him his loyalty willingly. The Operator was not a fan of Jackâs existential crisis. Although he respected the eyeless man, he could never understand the humanity that stuck with him even in his new form. Jack and him were like opposite sides of a coin, never quite understanding the other but more similar than they truly could comprehend.
Jack shook his shoulders, attempting to stop his thoughts from spiraling again. This is how it always went. The demon would recall his horrific and boring life, then question how it started, then rinse and repeat. Sometimes his wandering thoughts varied to his relationships with others. Like how in an odd way he was fond of the ghost girl Sally or how much he despised hearing Jeff speak for more than ten seconds. Somehow he had landed himself in a position where they were his only friends, even if he couldnât stand the pale faced killer.Â
These late night walks were always just for pondering, Jack trying to get himself on some form of a schedule when it came to his meals. As time progressed he realized there was no way around it and no way over it: he had to consume human organs. He had tried everything. Animal organs, any and all kinds of blood, human food, human organs that were kept at the hospitals nearby. He even tried to starve himself to death. He found that nothing satisfied him more than harvesting fresh organs no matter how much he hated it. No matter how much Jack despised the craving that controlled his life, he was a slave to it. His attempts at starvation were pointless, the demons rampage far worse if he was starving. So Jack tried to be as humane as possible, even if it caused him more physical problems then it may be worth it to others. He killed at the beginning of the week, preserving his meals throughout the week. The rest of the week he spent his time like this, aimlessly pondering and allowing himself to be consumed with his thoughts and regret.
Usually these nights went just like this, uneventful and in the end nothing productive could be said about them. He knew heâd go home, only to have a proxy to patch up or Jeff to bug him to death. While trivial and unamusing, Jack had accepted his fate. He was doomed to an eternity of gore and mundane tasks, just to fill up the endless time. After all, isnât this what he deserved? Didnât he deserve to-
Sniff sniff.
Unable to control his nose twitching he froze, the forest seemingly falling silent. Jack inhaled deeply, attempting to place the source of the scent. It wasnât one he was unfamiliar with, quite the contrary. The sweet metallic scent of human blood flooded his nostrils, the demon inside of him unable to contain its satisfaction just from the mere smell. He turned his head towards the direction of the smell, inhaling once more. Although he shouldâve been hauling himself in the opposite direction, Jack couldnât have been anymore intrigued. A wounded human in this neck of the woods? How far away from civilization could one have mindlessly stumbled?Â
More sinister theories began to emerge from the darker parts of his mind the longer he pondered. Were you a victim of violence? Being dumped and left in the forest to rot? Jack shivered at the thought, this time focusing on his acute sense of hearing. To his surprise he only heard one heartbeat, although faint. Before he could stop himself he was hauling his body over to the source. His curiosity had gotten the best of him, all logical and rule following gone out of the window. Jack didnât enjoy many things about his being, but he did enjoy his speed. With his height and animalistic abilities, his unnatural speed was much faster than any other being he had encountered this far. The metallic scent was a trail he could follow without any trouble, his feet carrying him to his mystery.Â
Jack wasnât sure what he had anticipated on seeing. The blood was fresh, but you werenât oozing with the stuff either. He came to an abrupt halt at the sight of you, the human in question. In a small clearing with the moonlightâs grace, he was able to make out your small form. A backpack was strapped to your back, your hair tangled and messy. Your makeup was smudged, your knees bleeding from a presumed fall. In your hand was a large stick, one you were struggling to even hold correctly. Your soft doe eyes were narrowed with fierceness, focused on the wild animal before you. A stray coyote, one thin and battling with starvation Jack presumed, was circling you like worthless prey. Jack hadnât accounted for his affect on the ecosystem of this forest, but perhaps he had gone a little too out of hand with his hunting.
He could make out the coyotes bones through its fur, its teeth snarled as it growled at you. Jack could hear the pounding of your heartbeat, the way it smacked against your ribcage. Although he knew he may be hanged for his crime of exposure, Jack found himself stepping out of the shadows. An animalistic growl brewed in the bottom of his throat, his teeth bared beneath his mask. The coyoteâs attention was immediately diverted to the demon, who stood tall and dangerous as he intimidated the animal. The coyote visibly shuddered at the sight of Jack, turning on its heels and darting off into the forest. A small sigh of relief left Jacks lips. He wouldnât need to traumatize you by tearing apart a live animal before you. His gaze returned to you, your eyes widened with fear. You stumbled backwards, your back hitting the tree.
With each step Jack took towards you he could smell the scent of alcohol getting stronger. Ahh, a drunk college student. âItâs not smart to be here this time of night,â Jack said, his voice deeper than he intended it to be. His noted the way your face relaxed at the sound of his voice. âWho made youuu the ruler of the forest?â You slurred, unsteadily propping yourself up against the tree. Jack cringed at the sight of dirt and filth coating your open wounds on your legs, swallowing as he approached you. âI donât flatter myself that much. Whatâd you do to yourself?â He questioned, pointing at your knees. At the sight of his gray skin you stumbled towards him, your touch warm and soft as you grabbed his hand. âOhhh you have argyria. That must suck,â You mumbled. You mustâve assumed Jack couldnât hear your comment. Maybe he couldnât have, if his hearing wasnât so acute. He hesitated as you examined his skin, seemingly amazed to see it. Arygria did in fact make oneâs skin a gray color, but no where near as dark as his. Had you only read about it?
âHow do you know what argyria is?â Jack found himself asking. Of course he knew what it was, medicine was his bread and butter. He wasnât trying to judge you based on appearances, but you were a drunken girl in a skimpy dress in the middle of a forest at a presumed two am. âI study medicine, sir. Iâm gonna be a doctor one day!â You proclaimed, a goofy smile spreading across your lips. A college student. It was slowly making sense, even if Jack couldnât reason why you were stranded in the middle of no where like this. He ignored the way his stomach jumped at being called sir, pulling his hand away. âThats great. Do you know which direction you came from? You need to go home,â Jack said, diverting the conversation to go in the direction it should go. Maybe he wouldnât technically be breaking any rules if you didnât recall this conversation in the morning. That had to count for something, right? You giggled as you put your hand over your eyes, spinning in a circle. You out stretched your arm, extending your pointer finger.Â
Jack watched curiously as you drunkenly landed on a random direction when you finally came to some form of a halt. âThat way!â You declared, a wide grin on your face. Jack tilted the head to the side as you stumbled in the random direction, awkwardly tripping over your own feet and falling onto the ground. He watched your consciousness slip away, your captivating eyes fluttering shut. Your pulse and heartbeat were still even, your breath not shallow. He tilted his head to the side, studying you as if you were a puppy. He looked both directions, ensuring there were no observers before he picked you up. Carelessly he threw you over his shoulder, carrying you as if you were as light as a feather. Jack had intended on patching you up and being on his way. Truthfully, that was his plan. Little did he know he signed up for far more than he bargained for.