Yooooooooooooooo! Got another chapter up, woo!

Thank you, to those who made suggestions for the mask! I tried combining all the ideas together, and I really think it turned out pretty neat. I'll have a reference image available on my DeviantArt account soon. I have the sketch, but not the colored version. heh

Also, this probably isn't a spoiler, so I'm just gonna say it here: you guys get to offer your input on your character's top! This will be something that goes over your t-shirt. Your limitations are described in the chapter, itself. Let me know what you'd like in the comments! Thank you!

Chapter 11

After being led by your master down a hall to the right of the grand staircase, Slenderman and you entered a room that, no doubt, was dedicated to crafting and fabricating the trademark attire of the Creepypasta residents. Each section of the room was organized for its specific function; fabrics, sewing tools, paints, and mask molds. Some fabrics looked familiar, others not so much. You noticed the lack of green fabric in the stock, and asked no one in particular, "What about Ben's clothes?"

"Ben is a poltergeist. Thus, he doesn't require material objects, such as clothes and food," Slenderman answered. He strode to the side of the room dedicated to mask crafting, seeming to gaze over its contents that were so neatly placed. "That does not necessarily imply that Ben avoids our objects altogether – you've seen this example in the living room, already."

You only nodded, recalling your first encounter with Ben while he was playing his odd video game. When you turned your attention from the fabrics to your master, you found him curling a finger at you, gesturing for you to approach where he stood. You gulped, afraid to wear Slenderman's patience thin, as you rushed over to his side.

There were typical and peculiar things in the stash of crafting materials. One of the most odd was a full set of wolf teeth, to which you snatched up as ideas for your mask swirled in your head. You placed them on the empty table nearby, only to turn as Slenderman snatched your chin between his index finger and thumb, and then placed a plastic mask over your face. He held it there for a moment, contemplating his intentions for your disguise. The small space for your nose wasn't very comfortable, limiting the amount of air that moved through your nostrils as you breathed. The echo of your wind was amplified, too, which made you feel a bit uncomfortable with how it would affect your hearing.

"Master," you mumbled, to which Slenderman removed the mask and released. "Maybe just a half-mask would do better. I could breathe easier." You gestured over the upper half of your face as indication to how the mask would be worn.

There was a long, unnerving silence between the two of you as Slenderman remained still for what seemed like several long seconds. His head turned to the shelves and drawers of crafting supplies, supposedly running all of his stock through his mind. The very moment he took a step back to the shelves, your master broke the silence, "I prefer my Proxies with full masks." He plucked a particularly shiny sheet of metal from a shelf. It was only two feet in length; you weren't sure exactly how thick it was, but it was thicker than a sheet of paper, for sure. From where you stood, you noticed smooth ridges of a scale design on the material's surface. "This has been sitting here for some time, however; I would like to see something done with it." Slenderman held out the sheet to you with his gangly arm.

You took the metallic sheet with both hands, afraid to make it wrinkle, then gently swung it over to the table and laid it flat next to the wolf teeth. To your surprise, the sheet was light, like aluminum, but much more difficult to damage. Glancing between the teeth and the sheet of metal, you began sliding the teeth in place below the shiny material. A full top row of teeth might be too much, so you plucked away from the back molars until you had three left from the canine fangs. As you paused to try and imagine the mask as its finished design, a notebook and pencil were rested next to you on the table. You glanced up and over your shoulder at Slenderman before taking the pencil in hand and began sketching your design ideas.

For the next two hours, your master watched you from behind, silent as a predator studying his prey. Every so often he would approach you and look over your various sketches, most of them scratched out, others you had circled and made little notes of what you wanted to keep. When you had a pretty regular pattern of ideas, Slenderman stopped you and slapped a wad of damp molding clay of sorts over your eyes. At first, you raised your hands to fight back, startled by your master's sudden actions, but remembered what would happen if you didn't comply.

Slenderman continued to smooth the mold over the top half of your face, making sure to get each crease and curve until the edges of your hairline and ears, down to the tip of your nose. He then pushed you down into a chair and pulled on your hair until you leaned your head back so that the mold wouldn't succumb to gravity and fall off. "Stay. It has to dry."

So, you did your best to recline in the chair and make yourself comfortable. A smirk crept onto one corner of your lips as the thought of Slenderman giving you a make-over entered your thoughts. How crazy would that be if he was actually a fashion designer in secret? Or at least had a brother like that? Some flamboyant entity who would talk with his hips and throw his hands around as he talked.

You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle your laugh. There was no telling if Slenderman was still in the room with you or if he had gone to take care of other things while the mold dried, so you didn't want to risk him prying into your mind and finding the mischievous thoughts that ran through it.

In all honesty, you had noticed a more gentle side to your master ever since you became his Proxy. Perhaps you were simply being obedient enough for him? Or maybe he treats his Proxies better than candidates? It would be best to ask Hoodie or Ticci Toby, rather than finding out first hand. They seemed pretty at ease around Slenderman, but maybe that was because they knew what they couldn't and couldn't get away with.

None of this eased your worries of being a Proxy.

"I guess I'll just have to do what I'm told," you mumbled, "not like I haven't been doing that all my life." The sarcasm in your voice was thick. Frustration filled your chest at the thought of your efforts to escape the oppression of your human life were all for naught. Heck, this was probably worse!

Maybe not quite; at least you were allowed to expel your anger here. Humans frowned upon others being angry and showing their feelings. Here, at the Creepypasta mansion, the residents didn't seem to mind at all – so long as they weren't the punching bags.

The back of your neck was tingling and cold from the lack of blood flow, thanks to the chair-back you rested it on. You weren't even sure how long it had been since you first sat there, and part of you wondered if you were supposed to decide when the mold was dry enough. Tapping your finger lightly on the mold on your face, you tested its durability before pressing a bit harder. It seemed decently dry – like paper maché – when you knocked the tips of your fingernails onto it. The braver half of you began lifting the mold off, fresh air cooling your exposed skin.

Something snatched the mask away from you, making you nearly jump out of your seat and swear under your breath. Hopefully, one day, you'll be used to Slenderman's deafly quiet demeanor.

It wasn't difficult for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. In front of you, your master stood, inspecting the stiffened mold carefully held between his elongated fingers. Mere moments later, Slenderman disappeared without warning. You whipped your head this way and that, wondering if he was still within the room, to which you found the Tall One plucking up the sheet of scaled metal.

"Stay here," he commanded, only to disappear once again.

Your mouth contorted in some sort of frustrated, but knowing, frown. You sat back in the chair, not even sure if you were allowed to get up. The minutes went by painfully slow as you gazed around the room, wondering what on earth your master could be doing right now. It obviously had to do with the mask. Maybe he had to use a special tool or something to get the scaled metal shaped correctly?

Eventually, Slenderman did return with the mask. The sheet of metal was now cut and shaped specifically to your facial features. Notches on the sides were cut to weave the elastic through later on. Eye holes were also cut through in their respective area. When your master handed the mask to you, there was lingering warmth within the metal. Part of you guessed that he had gone and heated it, which would explain how it had been shaped so easily. The mold was longer apparent; most likely useless now.

Gesturing back to the table of your chosen accessories, Slenderman watched you expectantly. You complied, a newfound excitement filling your chest as you ran your design through you head again.

After some odd hour or two, and plenty of helpful tools, you completed your mask. It was nothing short of tribal, yet with a twist of modern thrown in. The scales of the metal aimed down. Your eyes sockets were sealed with a thin black mesh to hide your eyes from victims. The nose bridge curved in straight angles, giving a sort of abstract serpent feature, which followed suit at the curve of your cheeks. The top of the nose was flat; making a straight surface that came to a sharp point just passed the tip of your nose. Along the bottom edges of the mask were the wolf teeth embedded on either side of the nose tip. They started with the canine fangs, and then followed with three molars spaced evenly.

You grinned, looking around for a mirror to see yourself with the mask on. Slenderman was immediately at the door of the crafting room, closing it to reveal a full-length mirror mounted on it. You approached it without hesitation, fumbling to slip the mask onto your head and adjust it accordingly. Despite the black mesh over your eyes, you managed to see your reflection efficiently. You felt different with the mask on, though you couldn't quite figure out how. Powerful? Maybe.

"I suggest you change your attire to something humans will not recognize you in," Slenderman spoke up. "Follow me." He swung the door open, nearly smacking you in the face, but you stepped back just in time.

After following your master a short distance down the hall, the two of you approached another room. Upon entering you found shelves and racks of miscellaneous clothes neatly folded and tucked away. "If you prefer to remain in your current clothes, I will not mind. Otherwise, I recommend that you cover yourself well. There are times when you will find yourself with little to keep your warm." His words sank in quickly as you recalled how Hoodie and Ticci Toby both wore long-sleeved tops and pants. Masky had a jacket hanging near his bed in his room.

Nodding in silent understanding, you considered your options. The summer heat had you wearing a t-shirt, which suited you fine, but would do practically nothing for you when winter comes along – or even when there would be a mission somewhere typically cold. Your black cargo pants seemed fine. They'd be useful for carrying supplies.

"I'll at least find a warm top to go over this," you gestured to your t-shirt, to which Slenderman nodded.

Hesitantly, you stepped forward and inspected the selection of clothes. You had already forgotten that your mask was still over your face, it fit you so perfectly. As your eyes scanned over your options, you considered the styles of winter clothes. Something dark would be preferred. Maybe a gray color? Or green? Hoodie wore yellow. Ticci Toby wore a gray-toned shirt. From the looks of Masky's jacket, he wore brown or tan.

Your fingers worked through the hanging tops on the racks, hangers screeching against the metal as they were forced from their rest to slide over. You glanced here and there, considering the colors and styles, not wanting to copy the other Proxies that you knew of. Part of you wanted something stylish, but another part of you argued that you needed something that would do its job keeping you alive.

Not that you had many options, when it came to something flashy and "cool". Most of the clothes in the room were basic, focusing on exactly what Slenderman recommended out of them. There were a few that had decent colors and patterns on them. Some that you had your eyes on were either too large or two small, and there weren't really any multiples in sizes for most.

Something tugged at the back of your mind, a thought that all of these clothes were collected from past victims of Slenderman (and maybe even the other Creepypasta residents).

Finally, you did find something that both fit you and looked like it would serve you well.

You can find the reference image of the mask here! art/Can-t-Say-Reader-s-Mask-541431476

If this doesn't automatically make a link, then just copy and paste it into your address bar. :3