*This fanfic is underneath my folder titled “Creepypasta stuff”. In my comment below are other fanfics that connect to this one. The main thirteen year old character in this fanfic is my OC named Janice and she is the fanon ship child of the Creepypasta characters, Laughing Jack, a creepy clown (created by Snuffbomb) and Jeff the Killer, a knife-wielding fiend (Created by GameFuelTV. Well, this version, anyway. There’s a Jeff the Killer created by somebody called “Sessuer”, but I’m not using that version). Gacha Club character designs are under my forum titled “My character designs<33[2]”. Janice says the line “They’re here!” which is a reference to the horror movie “Poltergeist”. Zalgo is mentioned here too and Zalgo is a Creepypasta character who is supposedly the “ruler of all Creepypastas”. He was created by Dave Kelly. There’s some dark joke towards the end, please let me know if I was actually funny or not. Other than that…enjoy!*

“Yes, that’s what I look like! What did you think I was going to look like, a supermodel?!” I cry out, because I’m a little offended that he said that to me. I’m beautiful and he should know that.

Corbin shifts uncomfortably, he tries to avoid eye contact. Boy, he better not do that when my parents get here and-

There’s rattling all throughout the house, like the shadows themselves are sweeping up to swallow all the light. Followed by that is the sound of a knife grazing against the walls, impatiently, hungrily.

I know what this means.

“They’re hereeeee!!!!” I announce, so that Corbin knows, because from out of the darkness, from a night spent killing others, my fathers emerge! One, a black and white striped clown, the other, a knife-holding Glasgow smile humanoid creature.

My parents, Laughing Jack and Jeff the killer.

“Nice joke there, dressing up like Creepypastas. What, are your parents cosplayers? Are you all cosplayers? Are-“

“Does this strike you as cosplay?” My clown Dad asks, snapping his fingers and lo and behold, piles upon piles of black and white swirl peppermint candy-things appear out of thin air.

“Well, maybe it’s a trick or-“

“Why don’t you take a bite out of the candy and see for yourself if you’re so confident this is all a trick, hm?”

Corbin reaches out to grab a candy, but I swat his hand away. I can’t have him eating that poisoned candy or else he’ll disappear into my clown Dad’s carnival and never be able to escape! I have to make sure that he doesn’t touch it, I can’t have him disappearing on me.

But oh my Zalgo, my parents eyes are blazing with fury at Corbin, their grins all too wide and bright, and it seems like any second now, they’ll be directing that anger on me.

“Janice, let him eat the candy. You know how we feel about visitors. Who is this, anyway?” My knife Dad asks. I know he’s not entirely interested in the answer, but I have to prove to them that Corbin does not deserve to die, because he’s like, destined to be my boyfriend.

“This is Corbin Knight, the amazing boy I was telling you guys all about! He’s going to be my boyfriend and we’re gonna meet up and-“

“Did you just tell him to follow you? Do his parents even know he’s here?”

That’s rich coming from my knife Dad, considering he murdered his own parents, but hey, maybe I can still try to convince him and my clown Dad that I made the right choice.

“Probably not. I just told him to follow me because if his parents knew, they would have said no and we would have never been able to be together. You have to understand that-“

“We don’t have to understand anything! You know why we don’t let humans into our house, right? If they knew we existed, there would be videos all over YouTube talking about us and then we’ll have visits from paranormal investigators! Do you know how annoying that is and-“

“They wouldn’t even know where we live! No one cares enough about Creepypastas to try and find you both anyway!”

Seriously, why are my fathers so worried about paranormal investigators? To humans, Creepypastas are horror stories for edgelord teenagers. One would think that Creepypastas as parents means more freedom, but nooo. My parents hardly let me do something outside of the house that isn’t murder! I just want to go out and be a normal teenager like everyone else! Why can’t I have that? Why does my knife Dad always switch out my Lana Del Rey for Gerard Way? Why is my life so hard?

“They could track us down with the IP address. The point is, this boy needs to die just from seeing us.” My knife Dad says, brandishing the rusted-up, busted-up knife he’s been using since he was thirteen years old, since he carved a smile onto his face just because he was getting bullied and hated his parents.

I shield myself in front of Corbin, who looks so entirely weirded out by this whole thing that he can’t bring himself to leave. I wanted Corbin to act normal, but it seems that no matter what happens, my parents are always going to be mad that there’s a human around.

“Can you both just leave him alone?! You didn’t even let him get a word in yet! Why can’t you just be normal for once and not all murdery?! Why is everything about murder for you! There’s more to life than-“

“You’re only thirteen years old. You still have a lot to learn. And if you keep talking back to us, you’re going to clean up the blood in the basement, understood? Also, our job is important. Without us making people “mysteriously disappear” nobody would care to come to this town. We bring a magic of our own to the mix. After all, these humans aren’t going to kill themselves, are they?”

My clown Dad, over 200 years old, looks proud of himself for saying that, but my knife Dad, who is thirty-five and trapped in the body of his twenty-seven year old self, turns away from me and casts my clown Dad a withering glare before punching him in the stomach and whispering in his ear. I tell Corbin to run and he takes off, leaving me with what will surely be a miserable punishment.