"The back goop that falls from EJ's eyes smells different to everyone. Some say it smells like parchment, some say it smells like tar, one even said it smelled like bacon. EJ was greatly troubled about this for months after."

You frowned. "Someone's cooking."

Nothing could've caused greater fear, and everyone collectively froze as one.

"Why, oh why did you have to go and say something like that?" Toby begged. "I'm not going to sleep tonight, (Y/N)."

"Someone's cooking," you insisted, causing another ripple of unease to go through the group. "We need to call off the mission, someone else is awake-"

"Nobody's awake," Jeff interrupted. He nodded his head at EJ, "Ol' Eyeless there is crying more heavily than he usually does, and the tar just happens to smell like bacon today."

"I'm not crying, Jeff," EJ snapped. In the dark, you could faintly see a light blush on his cheeks. "Fuck off."

Jeff cackled- not too loudly, mind, because the Far East Wing had ears, but loudly enough and EJ scowled before reaching forward to cuff him on the back of the head.

"Do you want me to leave you behind?" He snapped. "Do remember I'm the only thing standing between you and whatever monstrosities call this place home."

He was right, of course, though it kind of freaked you out to admit it. The Far East Wing sort of- absorbed light. There were windows, yes, but whatever moonlight came through was limited strictly to the area where it fell- everywhere else was pitch black. As such, EJ, who didn't see much of anything to begin with but could find his way around just fine, was your only chance of getting out of this hellhole alive.

Toby froze when there came faint laughter from ahead and stepped closer to the lot of you, "Wh-Why did I volunteer for the suicide mission?" He asked, and you got the feeling the stutter in his words was from pure fear, nothing else.

Jeff rolled his eyes, but he seemed a little unnerved now, too, "Because you're the one who lost it."

Toby glowered at him, "If I'm the one who lost it, then why are you here?"

Jeff faltered. "Well. I couldn't exactly leave the lot of you in the incompetent hands of each other, now could I?"

EJ smiled faintly. Of the lot of you, he was the only one who didn't immediately run screaming for the hills when the Far East Wing was mentioned, which was... kind of disturbing, if you thought about it, but no matter. "Aww, Jeffy, you do care," he crooned, and you didn't have to see in the dark to know Jeff's face had gone a brilliant shade of red.

"N-No I don't! Fuck off!"

EJ chuckled lowly to himself, then froze, throwing out a hand to keep the lot of you from moving forward. "There's something ahead."

Ah, hello, heart-stopping terror, you thought hazily. How I've missed thee.

There came the faint sound of Toby cracking his neck, followed by vocalized exhalations of air, and Jeff whirled around, "Stop that!" He hissed, voice bordering on terrified. "It's going to hear us!"

"I c-can't!" Toby snapped. "I have Tourettes, you asshole!"

"Can you have Tourettes quietly?"

Toby made a furious noise in the back of his throat, "I swear to fucking God, Jeff, I'm going to fucking throttle you-"

"Guys, can it!" You snapped in a hushed whisper. "Jeff, don't be a dick. Apologize."

He looked seven kinds of pissed, but eight kinds of terrified, "We're going to fucking die-"

"Apologize!"

Jeff muttered numerous curses under his breath as he turned to face the irate Toby, "I'm sorry," he said, but the brunet only increased the power behind his glare.

"I don't believe you-"

"Wait- where's EJ?"

You all froze, horror-stricken. Jeff slowly pressed a knife into your hand.

Then, independent of each other, you all barreled forward into the darkness, knives drawn, hatchets at the ready.

~~~

Maybe it was because EJ was already gone. Maybe it was because you had Jeff and Toby, two seasoned killers at your side.

Or maybe it was because you were sick and tired of the people around you having to pick up the slack for your case.

But whatever the reason, the three of you were a damn whirlwind, slashing and jabbing at anything that came close.

The three of you weren't coated in blood, per se, but the shadowy apparitions you were hacking apart left some kind of hemoglobin-like substance behind, and before long the three of you were absolutely covered in it.

"How much longer can we keep this up?" You panted, driving Jeff's knife into the side of a shadow. It dissipated with a wail, splattering you with a blackish goo not too dissimilar to the stuff that fell from EJ's eye sockets. "They're like damn hydras!"

Jeff grimaced, "Hold the fort until they get tired and give up?" He suggested, and you scowled at him.

"Now's not the time to be a smartass!" You hissed, ducking under the talons of one if the shadow-creatures. "Where the fuck is EJ?"

On cue, the man of the hour raced out if the gloom, eyes wide.

"RUN!" He screamed, and the three of you didn't waste any time before turning on your heels and booking it.

The shadows wailed and screamed, nipping and snapping at your heels, but you were faster, speeding down the hall at speeds that would make the Flash jealous, neck and neck with your creepypasta companions.

Eventually, the four of you barreled out of the hallway and more or less fell down the stairs, landing in a heap in the foyer. From above, you could faintly hear the spirits wailing and screeching, throwing themselves at the invisible barrier that kept them from invading the rest of the house, and you shivered.

"That was... the stupidest thing you could've done."

Jeff, who'd been laying flat on his back, craned his neck to glare at EJ incredulously, "Are you fucking kidding me?" He asked, too winded to properly snap the way he probably wanted to. "We're not the ones who went wandering into the goddamned East Wing!"

"I was fine!" EJ hissed. "Perfectly fine!"

"Yeah, b-because running like the Devil himself is snapping at your heels is such a good indicator of fine!" Toby snapped.

"I'm sorry, would you have rathered I leave you to face the wrath of the Slenderman tomorrow?"

Toby threw his arms in the air, "Honestly, yes!" He steamed. "At least that way you'd still be alive!"

Silence echoed around the room, then you sighed and pulled yourself into a sitting position, staring at EJ with tired eyes, "Did you get it, at least?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah."

From the depths of his hoodie pocket, EJ procured a long thin strip of black material- one of the Slenderman's 42 identical ties.

All that struggle, for one measly scrap of fabric.

The four of you were silent for a moment, then Jeff spoke up.

"Toby?"

"What?"

"I'm- sorry. For earlier."

The brunet in question nodded, picking at a loose thread on his jeans, "Thanks."

Another lapse of silence, before EJ sighed and stumbled to his feet, "Come on."

You looked up at him, "Where are we going?"

"To the kitchen," Jack responded, pulling Jeff and Toby up into standing positions. You were next. "I don't know about you lot, but I could use a pick-me-up after that."

Instantly, Toby was wary, "Alcohol?"

Jack shook his head, "No," he answered. "H-H."

Toby's spirits brightened momentarily, then he made a disgusted face. "I'm not drinking anybody's blood, you hemogoblin."

Jack snorted, "Have a waffle instead."

Toby's eye twitched, "I swear to God-"

The two carried on, bickering solidly on their way to the kitchen. You started to follow them, then froze when Jeff pulled you back.

His eyes were unreadable, "How did you do that?"

You frowned at him, "What?"

"Earlier. While we were running from those- things. You were keeping pace with us."

You frowned, "I don't- I don't know," you replied, caught off guard. "I wasn't exactly thinking about the logistics of it, Jeff, I was a little more concerned with being eaten alive."

He didn't look happy, "You shouldn't have been able to keep pace with us."

You raised an eyebrow, "Shouldn't you be happy I was?"

"Not when we're running at creepypasta speeds," Jeff responded, and you faltered.

His words echoed around the empty room, hanging heavy in the air.

"I'm... I'm not a creepypasta," you said aloud, but even to your ears your voice sounded unsure.

Jeff shook his head, "No, you're not," he agreed, but he looked troubled. "However..."

Whatever he was going to say, he decided against it in the end. "It's probably because of all the sigma you've been surrounded by," he offered by way of an explanation, but it rang hollow in your ears.

Part of you had liked the idea of becoming a creepypasta, in the beginning at least, but now, actually faced with the prospect, it seemed a lot more... daunting than when it was just some unlikely possibility lingering in the back of your mind.

Jeff rolled his eyes at the look on your face, "Relax, (Y/N)," he drawled, tone finally back to the sarcastic cadence you were used to. "If you were a creepypasta, we'd have noticed something sooner. It's just sigma."

"Besides," he stated as he walked away, towards the kitchen. "You don't have an origin story."

That was true, you conceded as you followed him to the kitchen. You didn't have an origin story.

(But Jeff had never asked for his knife back.)

(Deadass I almost put 'Timothée' instead of 'Toby' during the first paragraph because that is exactly what my character (who's name is Timothée, as mentioned above) would say, and it gave me serious whiplash.
Also, please, comments, help me out- it's been a hot minute since I've done anything remotely resembling 'creepypasta;' does Toby have amnesia? Both in his own canon and whatever the fuck kind of headcanon-world I've set up here.)