Monochrome Lights ( Laughing Jack X Reader)

~Truth~

Jack had left for a few hours now after the show. The sound of people leaving and the gates closed rung in the still air as the Carnival had changed back to normal. Broken rides littered the grounds and the smell of decomposing corpses were rich in the air. Lying down in the big top tent you held a small candy in one of your fingers.

The small colourful wrapper shinning brightly against the Monochrome background. A small yawn made its was onto your mace and you looked at the various types of carnival equipment you could try.

A large whip sat in a corner of the room and you looked at it curious. Standing up from your spot you grabbed the long black whip by the handle and gave it a test whip. CRACK! Sounded from the end of it as you tried it again.

"Huh... cool." You say to no one and look at a chair that was not far from you. Silver eyes glanced down at the black whip in your hands before lashing out towards the chair and wrapped around the back of it.

A ghost of smile crept onto your face as you lashed out the whip and looked as the chair shattered into pieces on a nearby post.

"Well done Gumdrop." A voice said and you turned your head to look at LJ who was coming in, covered in blood of course. You smirked at his comment before a question popped into your mind. "Hey Jack?" You ask and he turns his head. "Yes?" He questions and snaps his fingers all the blood gone from his clothing.

Im guessing that he had murdered those kids he wanted..' You think and jerk your head back as LJ stood no more then a foot away from you. His grin widened at the surprised expression on your face as a few chuckled slipped through his black lips.

"How did you become like this?"

(Just to make this clear I am just taking laughing Jacks origin story! I do not own it so here is the link to itcreepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Origin_of_Laughing_Jack I am just adding in my own parts but all belongs to Snuffbomb!)

Jack stopped dead for a second and looked away. "Fine... I will tell you.." He said in a emotionless tone as you and him sat on one of the risers.

"It's Christmas Eve in snowy 1800's London, England, and in a small house at the edge of town, there lived a lonely, seven-year-old boy named Isaac. Isaac was a sad child with not a friend to his name. While most children were spending time with their families and eagerly looking forward to opening the presents that were placed with care beneath a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, little Isaac spent this most holy of nights alone, in his cold, dusty attic room. Isaac's parents were very poor, his mother was a strict crow of a woman who stayed at home and schooled Isaac. His father worked long hours down at the London harbour to support his family, although a large portion of his earnings went toward purchasing and consuming copious amounts of alcohol at the end of his shift. Sometimes, he would come home drunk, after being thrown out of every bar in London, and shout at his beloved wife, Isaac's mother.

Occasionally, it would escalate to violence and he would beat her savagely, then when he was done, he'd force himself upon her in a drunken, sexual rage. As it so happens, this particular night was one of those occasions. Isaac just remained quiet, quivering beneath his soiled bed sheets until the screams and loud bangs subsided. Once poor frightened Isaac was finally able to fall asleep, he'd dream of what it would be like to have a friend to play with, so maybe he could laugh and be happy like the other children of London. Luckily for little Isaac, this Christmas Eve marked a big change, when his abysmal loneliness caught the attention of a guardian angel, who then crafted a very special gift for the sad little London boy.

As the sun rose on that Christmas morning, Isaac opened his eyes to find a strange wooden box sitting at the foot of his bed. With eyes widened in awe, he stared at the colorful, hand crafted box, wondering who had left it. He was not used to receiving gifts, especially toys. What little toys Isaac did have were ones he'd found abandoned in the street or washed up in the gutters. Isaac scooted up to the foot of his bed in front of the mysterious box and picked it up with both hands. The box was beautifully painted in colorful styles, with carvings of happy clown faces on the side. There was a tag on the box that simply read "For Isaac." On the top of the box was an engraved text.