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Courting Death_Slenderman X Reader
Damien: Origin[Mild trigger warnings: Bigotry, murder, and suicide]
Confinement_ Trenderman X Reader_One-ShotAN: (IMPORTANT PLS READ THIS BEFORE READING THE STORY! )This is easily my longest one-shot yet. This has around 10.5K number of words and the file was too big for stash writer to handle that I had to divide it into two. (The continuation for this is on the description below if you want to finish the story and won't be posted as an official deviation because this was meant to be a one-shot not a two-parter) though I really doubt this one will be as successful as my other one-shots since this revolves around Trender who is honestly less... favored compared to the other slenders. This was a HUGE experiment especially since this was written in the 2nd pov but follows Trender's perspective throughout the story. Although this is an X reader it's more of a character study about our favorite fashionista who I was really unsatisfied with on my take on his character when I first started writing fanfics.
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Help Wanted for CP animation series!!*UPDATE* so everyone who had signed up before has just either ghosted or quit because i havent been able to contact them for the past month so all positions open again.
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Courting Death_Slenderman X Reader
AN: Whenever I write any Slender bros fanfics nowadays, I try to create a story with a specific type of reader that has a special dynamic depending consequently on each slender. An example of this being, I could never pair Trender with a doormat type of reader without him getting bored to tears or just straight up ditching them. For him, I prefer readers that have a backbone to counter his diva-like/sarcastic personality. BUT, if I did write a doormat type of reader with Trender, there should be a special circumstance or situation that should make their pairing work. Now for this certain fanfic, I noticed that the readers I read about or end up writing about for Slender are always at a disadvantage. It's either he looks down at them for being lower than him or just thinks of them as a burden. Doesn't matter if the reader is a human, creepypasta, some sort
[Mild trigger warnings: Bigotry, murder, and suicide]
Damien Poeppelmeyer lived a hard life. He was autistic and mute, and his classmates, teachers, parents, and three sisters all treated him badly. On top of that, people gave him a hard time for being ginger, telling him he had no soul, and as he was unable to speak he could only growl and flap his hands in distress. Only his younger brother Cameron seemed to truely care about him, and they would often communicate together with sign language and writing. When Damien was fifteen, he wanted to go to a Halloween party, but his shitty parents refused to take him, instead taking Cameron and their three bitchy sisters. Alone, Damien was distraught. He tried to calm himself down by getting in his costume anyway (which was side-show inspired), but it didn’t help and he ended up crashing into his father’s obsidian display in rage. When he came to, his mouth was cut open and jagged with the sharp black rocks. Despite the agony, his
Mature contentVaded Vyctor: Origin + facts Extra0rdinaryCPasta 0 0
Confinement_ Trenderman X Reader_One-Shot
AN: (IMPORTANT PLS READ THIS BEFORE READING THE STORY! )This is easily my longest one-shot yet. This has around 10.5K number of words and the file was too big for stash writer to handle that I had to divide it into two. (The continuation for this is on the description below if you want to finish the story and won't be posted as an official deviation because this was meant to be a one-shot not a two-parter) though I really doubt this one will be as successful as my other one-shots since this revolves around Trender who is honestly less... favored compared to the other slenders. This was a HUGE experiment especially since this was written in the 2nd pov but follows Trender's perspective throughout the story. Although this is an X reader it's more of a character study about our favorite fashionista who I was really unsatisfied with on my take on his character when I first started writing fanfics.
Warnings ahead: Gender-neutral pronouns fo
A Mirrors Lie
Cornelia closed the door behind her in a hurry. Her hands moved swiftly towards the key inside of her pocket and locked it. A lood bang was heard from the other side of the door. The man had been chasing her down and now she had no where to go. Locked inside of a room without windows. She stepped away from the door and moved backwards. She yelped as he slammed his fist on the door again. ‘I know you are in here, open this damn door!’ He yelled. Cornelia took a deep breath, eyes wide open from fear as she was unsure what her next move should be. She turned around shaky and insecure. There where 2 more women inside of the room, when her eyes met theirs she finally spoke up.
‘I can’t do this, please let me go home!’ Cornelia cried out. The woman on the right gave her a stern look. It seemed so icy cold that Cornelia was not sure if it was safer to be inside or outside of the room she was standing in. ‘This is our job, you signed up for this, now you nee
Verndari, Protector of Youth - creepypasta story
Poor girl. She never knew what it was like to have a mother. To this day, I still ask God why he decided to end her life. Why the doctors failed to keep her alive. I knew it was rare, but I never expected it to happen to someone like her. Growing up, she’d always been such a strong and independent individual. Always conquering every challenge that came her way. Always standing up against all the demons in her life. But I guess she was unable to keep fighting. What happened to my daughter was a tragedy. I never thought that it would be the miracle of birth that would end her life. As for my son in law, who expressed many concerns about being able to raise the child on his own, he contacted me in hopes that I may be able to help. He told me he planned on getting rid of the child and was already meeting with the city courts. Not wanting the child to grow up in a foster home, my wife and I offered to become legal guardians. Considering that he had already deemed himself unfit to perform as a father, as well as consented to give up the child, it was easy for me to file a petition for custody. I flew out for a couple of weeks to meet with him and discuss all the necessary actions needed to take. During the time it took for courts to finalize their decision, my son in law had all the products he purchased for the baby shipped to my home up in Iceland. Eventually, my wife and I were granted custody of the little girl and she was officially a part of our household. Not even a week later, I got a call from a family friend telling me that my son in law had grown mentally unwell and was being held in an institution. It was a shame, truly. I don’t remember the last time I held respect for someone the way I did him. He was such a kind and gentle young man. It was heartbreaking to see his life fall apart the way it did. It’s been years since the incident. It certainly hasn’t been easy trying to bring her up on my own. Especially after my wife passed away. A year after we adopted her, she had grown ill. It was clear she wasn’t going to live much longer. It was her who decided on a name for the little girl. It was only after my wife was taken from heart disease did I realize just how much of a blessing little Arya was to my life. Just a couple of weeks ago, Arya had turned eight years old. We celebrated by going out to her favorite restaurant in town. What a nice group of people, the staff. They always seemed to remember us whenever we visited, even though eating out was a rare occasion for us. Arya was always the center of attention. It was clear the people working at the restaurant adored here and wanted to make her day special. After the waitress cleared our entrees from the table, a group of employees walked out of the kitchen and surprised Arya with a song and a beautifully decorated birthday cake. By the time we returned home, it was dark outside. Arya had insisted on staying awake to open up some of the gifts she’d received from me and a couple of local friends. Though it wasn’t much, all that mattered was that she was happy. Arya was now playing with the toys she had received. It didn’t take long for her to become acquainted with them after opening her final gift. Well, almost all of them. There was still one more present I had for her. But seeing the joy on her face, I was afraid to give her the box. She noticed my concerned expression and asked me if everything was ok. I looked back at her with a smile. “I’m fine,” I told her. “Just a little tired.” I looked back at her, making eye contact with her weary eyes. “I think it’s about time you go get ready for bed.” Of course, the mention of going to sleep was not thrilling to her. I wasn’t too surprised when she put up a small fuss. But as always, she eventually complied. We said goodnight and she went to her room. I took the time to clean up the wrapping paper strewn across the floor and gently placed her unwrapped gifts on the countertop. I walked back into the living room and took a seat in my red armchair positioned by the window. I switched on the lamp to my right and picked up my book and glasses from the coffee table on my left. I flipped to my marked page and started to read. I guess you could say it wasn’t exactly reading. Even though my eyes scanned every word on the page, my mind was elsewhere. It was more like I was contemplating thoughts while forgetting everything that I read. I didn’t know how she would react if I gave her the box. I thought, Maybe I wouldn’t have to explain its origins to her? But I knew that would be immoral. Not just for her, but for my daughter as well. I woke up the next morning to find Arya sitting in the kitchen. She had set up a small scene using some books and silverware for her toys. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I knew she had it all figured out. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down in the chair across from her. She looked up at me with a big smile before she turned her attention back down to the dolls she held in her hands. I was instantly reminded of the night before and could feel the sense of dread consume me as I contemplated what I should do. She would have wanted her to have it, I thought to myself. I walked away from the table and reached up to a high shelf, returning with a medium-sized wrapped box. The whole time Arya watched me and her face lit up when she saw it. I set the box in front of her before proceeding to sit back down. I motioned for her to open it and she reached for the box, tearing the paper away. “Think of this as a gift from your mother,” I told her. She stopped when those words left my mouth. It was as if time had decided to stop moving as she sat there, staring blankly at the box. At this point, the joy-filled face I had seen seconds ago had morphed into that of sorrow. She hesitantly opened the cardboard seel and peered inside. She stared at the contents of the box before reaching inside and pulling out a small stuffed animal with pink-tinted brown fur, small round eyes, triangle nose, large floppy ears, and a thin long tail with a bow on it. I still remember the day I purchased the animal for my daughter. At first, I thought it was a rabbit, but that changed when I saw the tail. Nonetheless, my daughter was in love with the thing. It never left her side, no matter where we went. I hoped that Arya would find the same joy and happiness that my daughter did with the animal. "You can give it any name you want," I told her. She thought for a second. “What name did mom give it?” She asked. I was a bit taken aback by the question. “Verndari,” I responded. Arya looked back at the stuffed animal and took the plush animal into a tight embrace. “I love you Verndari!” She stated cheerfully. At that moment, I swear I saw my daughter's spirit standing in the corner of the room, smiling back at me. The plush animal soon became a part of our everyday life. Arya started calling Verdari, Vern for short. She carried the animal with her at all times. I’d be damned if I've ever seen her without it. I would joke a lot to myself about the stuffed animal being some kind of cursed object that had latched itself onto Arya. The ridiculous thought always made me laugh. That is until it no longer seemed to be a joke. Only a few days ago, I noticed that Arya started acting differently. Not exactly in a negative way, but she seemed more quiet than usual. That morning when she sat down for breakfast, I noticed that Vern was not with her. Which was unusual. “Where’s your little friend Arya?” I asked her in a joking manner as to not sound suspicious. Her eyes remained fixed on the table as if she hadn’t heard me. I leaned closer and waved my hand in front of her face, which seemed to get her attention. “Arya, what’s going on? Are you ok?” I asked her. She seemed hesitant to talk to me. When she finally spoke, “Vern doesn’t want to come out today. So I left her in my room,” she said. “Why doesn’t Vern want to come out?” I asked in response. “She’s afraid,” she said. At this point, I was understandably concerned and asked her what Vern looked like, just to make sure she was still talking about the stuffed animal. Arya looked at me confused but went on to describe Vern as I asked. Everything from the large floppy ears to the tail and fur color as if I had somehow forgotten. I didn’t. Everything seemed fine at first. The only thing that ever caught my attention was when she described Vern's fur color as just being brown even though the animal's fur was tinted pink. I dismissed it, thinking I was just being overly attentive. That is until she mentioned that Vern had somehow grown in size. Confused as to what she meant, I asked her to describe its figure. The creature's height was, and I quote, two of me. This takes into account both length and height. “Has Vern at any point hurt you, or attempted to hurt you?” I asked in concern. “Vern wants to protect me,” she said. “Vern would never hurt me.” The realization that this could very possibly be an imaginary friend crossed my mind. I was relieved at the thought. Arya must have created this creature as a coping mechanism for the emotional distress she must have felt when I gave her the gift. Reminding her of her mother, it must have been hard for her. I never meant for this to happen. Everything she told me, it was just pretended, right? But still, that wasn’t enough to answer one of my lingering questions. Why was she afraid? Was it me? No, that didn’t make sense. Why would she be afraid of me? Unless she was afraid of something else. Someone else. “Hey, grandpa?” “Yes, Arya?” I responded. “There’s one more thing I forgot to tell you,” she said. I’ll never forget the following words. “Vern, she wears a skull face…”...
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