Watch as people progressively give me advice on my Splendorman suit redesign. I know that tie is too low, i didn't feel like messing with the collar. I was tired :(
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○ Akin "Kins" are a type of Eldritch that resemble human beings with a few notable biological differences. This species is entirely Male. And are both predatory and reproductively parasitic to humanity.
Males: Kings
Females: Queens
● a human women who has had pups may be called a Queen, however this title ushally refers to an individual who has XXY chromosomes.
Offspring: Prince/Princess. (Pups/cubs) Proxies have often referred to these as “Grubs” /derogatory. Due to their behaviors being deeply food driven. A proxy needing to resort to calling “grub grub grub” with a food item to know where they are.
A gathering of related individuals is called a Band, a mixed gathering is called a Court.
Adults often form bands that share territory and resources. Usually these bands are brothers, or other closely related individuals. There is typically inner hierarchy within these bands decided by strength.
Slenderman>Debauchery>Trenderman>Splendorman
Slenderman & Splendorman are Twins.
Trenderman & Debauchery are Twins.
These two sets of twins are cousins, but collectively call each other brothers.
○ For the first decade of life, most kin are hidden. Kept in whatever crevice or otherwise sealed space can be found. They are incredibly soft bodied. A particularly confident or devoted father might carry his offspring on his back, but this is the minority. The father, and sometimes uncles will visit periodically to clean, feed and water them through mastication.
Some become independent before others. Once they leave the space the father has left them, they are, for the most part. On their own. Pups often stay in their parental band's territory until full maturity, but aside from the protection that their parents' presence provides them, they must learn everything from scratch.
More intelligent puppies might seek out their father, trailing him as silent observers, learning how to hunt, where to find water, how to teleport, and occasionally shelter in his shadow. It is an incredibly humble beginning. Starting from the bottom of the food chain, climbing to the top.
The fastest growth period for a Kin is infact the first century of their lives. Their growth rate being slower then a typical human's, but not overly so. This also shows in gestation. A human gestates anywhere from 8 to 10 months, a kin will gestate anywhere from 10 to 13 months. These offspring stay within the confines of their sire's territory at all cost, because the moment they leave is the moment true adulthood begins.
Kin pups are born with a full set of teeth and will eat anything that doesn't eat them first. They often start out hunting small things that can't run away easily. Insects, amphibians, small reptiles and. If they can. Fish and birds. Despite the species being famous for their specialization in hunting humans, this is simply a preference. They must get as big as possible, as quickly as they can manage it.
The mortality rate for these small opportunists is high, which is often why bands start in the first place. Young that run in bands or courts typically have higher success rates then those who don't. These bonds last for lifetimes.
○ While proxies are not obligated to watch puppies, often times they do anyways. Young Kin are impulsive, fueled by their instincts alone, personality comes later. When a pup is nearby proxies are on high alert. While they have their family's mark, that doesn’t deem them safe from predation. A good father will not scold their young for killing successfully.
○ Kin names are often descriptions of the limited behaviors that shine through during their youth, for the majority of their adolescents they are nameless. Recognized only by vibration and scent rather then individuality.
Slender - Was a Runt.
Splendor - very happy go lucky, regardless of circumstances.
Trender- showed curious interest in colors, patterns and human clothes.
Debatchery- Often ate things he shouldn't have, disobedient and thrill seeking.
Twins often mirror each other. Slender is more stoic, while Splendor is outgoing. Trender enjoys modesty while Debatchery can be rude and grotesque.
○ Twins aren't uncommon in Kin.
While they are born realitivly small for what they eventually mature into. They're ushally born in doubles. Which can be dangerous for momma.
It's pretty widely accepted that in the event that a pregnancy occurs. They'll pass due to some unforseen complication. Which is why males default to taking care of their pups. This isn't the desired outcome, just the socially accepted one.
An individual like Slenderman who has access to medical aid such as EJ, Dr Smiley, or Nurse Ann. May be inclined to ask for their help.
This is against his better instincts however. Again, young are precious things. Rarely conceived and already have odds stacked against them with their impending coming of age. The last thing he'd want to deal with is a lesser being such as a pasta trying to get one over on him by dispatching his young.
In a perfect world, his children are kept seperate from the majority of his "business".
It is a strange contradiction. The rarity of conceiving, the value they hold for their offspring... only to leave them high and dry to fend for themselves.
It is apart of their culture. The idea that the strong and intelligent will survive. They live for centuries after all.
Some, like Splendorman might consider this barbaric and an outdated custom.
This chapter may have depictions of violence that are disturbing for some readers, this is your content warning.
So sorry, this chapter is too long for me to edit all the double spacing.
Y/n arrived earlier than usual, the world still caught in that dim in between hour. Sleep clung stubbornly to her, weighing down her eyelids and dulling the edges of her thoughts. She snuffled once, dragging the back of her hand beneath her nose before pulling her coat tighter around herself. The wind stung her Cupid's bow as she hurried across the lot, curled in on herself.
By the time she reached the entrance, her fingers were frozen to the bone and she fumbled briefly with her ID, the plastic slipping against her numb fingertips before she managed to guide it through the reader. For a second there was nothing then the red LED turned green. The lock mechanically turned over in the door, it sounded louder than it should have in the quiet morning. She pushed the door inward feeling the abrupt temperature change. She exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders loosen as the door shut behind her.
Thomas had asked her to come in early.
Of course he had.
The memory of it danced, replaying the way he had sheepishly, almost apologetically explained that he’d been asked to worked late the night before after she'd left, that he needed to take part of the day off to rest and care for his daughter. The request annoyed her to no end however she wouldn't turn down the extra hours, extra cash in her pocket. It was the type of request that was difficult to refuse without looking like an asshole. So she hadn’t refused.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t irritated. It was about the precedent. About how easily one favor turned into expectation. She could already see it playing out another shift, another excuse, another adjustment to her schedule because she’d made the mistake of saying yes once.
Her jaw tightened slightly as she moved further into the facility, the white lighting washing over her, too bright for the hour. The hum of electricity in the walls was al most comforting. She tried to shake off the lingering cold and the heavier weight of her thoughts by focusing on the tasks ahead, Work was work and extra pay didn’t come from comfort. Still something about being here this early felt quieter than usual.
The green indicator blinked the moment she stepped into the observation deck. It was very hard to miss, red was closed, green meant opened. Y/n frowned, glancing at the monitors. Strangely all all the equipment was already booted up. The feeding chute only opened during strict intervals, scheduled down to the minute, and she knew for a fact she hadn’t given the command yet. Someone on shift had either fat fingered the panel or was screwing around.
“Idiots.” she muttered under her breath, irritation bubbling up even through the fatigue. “He’s on a schedule. You don’t just..”
she trailed off, the words dying as Y/n’s eyes lifted from the indicator and moved to the enclosure. No tall, unmoving silhouette folded in on itself, no stalking giant trailing her from the other side of the glass. The woman felt a visceral reaction to the dark stretch of forest in front of her. It was empty. The Slenderman as she knew him was in the habit of pacing, he'd move frequently from one side of the enclosure to another, occasionally vocalizing, but at this time hours before her shift normally would start she assumed he'd be resting, or at the very least pretending to… but his corner was empty.
Without taking her eyes off the enclosure in front of her she placed her purse in the cubby. The feet chute stared at her ominously from across the lab. The shining metal dyed green from reflecting the indicator light.
He couldn't fit through the chute, it was too narrow, too steep an incline for him to possibly manage an escape.
“Where are you?” she murmured to herself, her irritation turning into quiet panic. Y/n turned abruptly, her shoes skuffing against the floor as she crossed to the camera station. Her fingers still stiff from the cold morning moved with practiced precision over the keys, flicking through each camera angle in quick secession. Finally, she had found him. The abrupt appearance of his image startled her. He was.. right in front of the feed tray.
“Theta?”
Only two things registered in that second, the recognition of movement, and the dull thudding of pain. Before she could think her feet flew from the grounds and her body pulled into the tight pathway of the trough, The metal lip of the chute scraped her shins, tearing fabric and skin alike, as the thing dragged her with terrifying ease. Her palms slapped against the sides, trying to brace, to slow her descent, but the pull was merciless. The air whooshed past her ears as she slid into the narrow darkness.
“Stop!” The word ripped from her throat, strangled in panic.
She twisted, kicked, nails catching uselessly on steel, but the tendril only tightened its grip and coiled higher, snaring her calf. She stopped only half way down due to the separation gates. Thin pieces of metal that stood horizontal. When closed properly they turned on their side and sealed the now cruel gap that stared at her from above. The barrier between her lab and his enclosure.
‘He's going to break my spine to get me down there’
The first of many realization hit her pain dizzied mind, because of the speed and ferocity she had been grabbed at, her body naturally had folded in half. Leaving her hips and tailbone to lead her descent and eventually ended in the situation she found herself in. With an angry tendril moving up her leg.
She didn't want to try to adjust, already exhausted and in pain. She shifted anyways, trying with no avail to relieve the burning sensation that was happening at the base of her thighs. The blood had already begun to trickle, lubricating the metal walls but doing nothing in way of helping the situation. The mental image of her patient's claws and mouth open wide and eager for her descent was more than enough incentive for her eyes to search for a solution.
Y/n began feeling light headed, her chest and legs basically parallel, it practically made breathing an impossible and strenuous task. Her hands sprawled out around her surroundings, fingers grasping desperately at the metal walls of the drop. If she could get her nails in the indentations maybe… maybe she could pull herself up and allow herself some oxygen. She reached up to do just that, fingernails encrusted in old feed and blood. It was almost enough to make her puke, thankfully enough she hadn't had lunch.
It seemed that the creature below her was rather invested in the current situation far too much to allow her to hold a grip to anything, a shiver rippled through her skin as she felt another one of his wet appendages run up her shirt, traveling up her spine and roping her throat. Her shallow pulse thundered against it and she prepared to have the remainder of her life squeezed out.The tendril retreated and continued to prod her surroundings only then did she realize he was trying to access the situation. He didn't want to rip her apart. The thought completed and knotted her stomach.
‘He wants something to play with, he wants me alive to toy with.’
Surely that made the most sense. If it were simply just about eating, he would have used all of his strength to pull her free.
A tapping sensation at her rump gathered her wandering mind. She squealed as she felt herself becoming unlodged from her situation, he was pushing her up. There was an unseen gratitude washing over her pained expression. She was so tired but had managed to correct her position, it wasn't a pleasant experience. Leaving her bleeding legs to shake and her hands to search for a ledge in the metal to cling to again.
She had almost convinced herself that he'd grown uninterested in those few seconds, but reality came tumbling down, as did she. With her body facing correctly, nothing stopped him from simply pulling her out. The chute funneled her straight into the containment, her body rattled like a rag doll as the world went from sterile facility to false woodland.
She landed hard against something unyielding. him.
Not the ground, that was so far away. She'd half expected to fall from the dish, breaking some of her bones and scramble for escape at the feet of the monster before being stepped on, crushed or impaled by one of his tendrils, but that was not the case. Her body felt incredibly warm and a steady humming buzzed around her. There was the feeling of discomfort, it felt like sewing, he was sewing a mental link between them, a thick drag of pain that started behind her eyes and ended at her crown.
His hand enclosed around her torso eagerly, as if she had simply turned herself over to him.
She noticed that she dangled from the grasp of the entity effortlessly. That his palm naturally incompressible her. He was huge. She knew that. She had always known that. She had seen him countless times through reinforced glass, measured him in reports, analyzed his movements, his posture, his reach, and yet none of it translated to this. Not when she was the thing being held to scale. The blank head angled downwards and imposing. The low hum she felt reverberate through her chest deepened almost pleasantly. If she could ignore where she was and what was making it.
His other hand came to cup her between his grasp, covering her gaze. Like a kid holding a cricket she felt powerless to do anything. The threat of going into shock loomed over her almost as intensely as he did. She could feel it hovering at the edges of her awareness, creeping closer with every passing second. Her limbs felt distant, her breathing uneven, her thoughts beginning to blur at the corners. A small part of her welcomed it.
'Maybe going into shock wouldn't be so bad, I'm not sure I want to be aware of anything at this point.'
The longing to simply fall asleep. To be blissfully unaware of the horrors that surely awaited her.
She trembled as the hand over her head moved. Her body reacting before her mind could process it, every nerve suddenly too aware. His nails caught lightly against the fabric of her uniform, dragging just enough to be felt through it. Occasionally they slipped higher, grazing her neck, tangling briefly in her hair before sliding free again.
He was petting her.
“Good evening, You are early.”
The voice was soothing, praising. the warm sensation of the hands around her and the sudden introduction of the male voice leading to an all too confusing situation. Was someone on the intercom talking, was this the voice of death? Her eyes darted instinctively, searching for the source despite knowing there was nowhere it could have come from. The observation deck was above. The intercom hadn’t engaged. No one else was here.Her gaze lifted slowly, hesitantly, toward the featureless shape above her. It wasn't possible.
“I was starting to think that we'd never get to interact personally.”
Y/n curled into herself, pulling her arms over head using her hands to protect the back of her neck. It seemed pointless the more she thought about it. But it felt nice to be covered, to be hidden from view no matter how little the protection it provided. If the Slenderman understood the sentiment he did very little to provide relief.
“The voice of death? How very poetic of you. Maybe to you, that is exactly correct.”
"You, you can talk?.. "
It didn't make sense, not entirely. She wasn't hearing him with her ears. And yet here was this articulate and punctual voice surrounding her. She waited patiently, minutes passed in silence only filled by her anxious shivering and frantic thoughts. It wasn’t something she could block out, cover her ears against, escape by closing her eyes.
He wasn’t speaking to her. He was speaking inside her.
“I have always been capable of communication.” The voice returned without warning, sliding cleanly into the space between her thoughts.
"Why are you talking now?" It was all but a quiet whisper, pulling her arms close to her chest does nothing to help ease the pain from her fall, of how exposed she feels under his intense gaze. She found herself flicking her eyes from his faceless stare, to his chest marking, to the ground. She was trained to handle high stress situations, to have a level head and be able to control her emotions so that she and others might have a better chance at surviving disasters. So why.. Why did it feel like her body was freezing over? Overwhelmed with the need to run, every flinch her body gave due to the panic that seeped into her soul.
“What you are experiencing is a completely natural response. Do not fret. I find it rather endearing.”
“I am speaking to you now, because I want to.”
Of course, in a situation without control, any intelligent and self aware being would try to maintain any semblance of it that the others couldn't control. like communication. He didn't feel the need to answer any questions from scientists that he deemed pointless, which was all of them.
"You use telepathy… that's why your dominant hemisphere is so complex in comparison. That's… great, Theta." The name left her lips carefully, almost automatically, as though she might still be able to smooth this situation into something manageable.
This seemed to give the being pause, or at least she presumed it did. His subtle movement stilled. His head tilted back slightly, drawing away from her as if reassessing the thing held in his grasp. He angled her in his hands subtly, as though he were examining her from a different perspective. It occurred slowly to Y/n that Theta was looking at her. Actually looking at her. With each passing hum of static that jolted through her, he was perceiving her in ways she could only speculate. She followed his gaze before she could stop herself.
The skin on both sides of her thighs had been peeled in sections. It's ungodly burning was almost unbearable. She had been able to drown it beneath adrenaline and fear and everything else clawing for her attention but now there was no ignoring it. And what's worse, he was looking at it.
“Your continual flattery of myself. Is an interesting choice. Perhaps you intend to appeal to my better nature?”
His figure moved over her, she could see with frightening clarity the way his mouth opened from his seemingly featureless face. The seamless hinge of his jaw peeled back it's fine membrane to reveal his rows of interlocking teeth. Too terrified to move, she sat still, numbly as his tongue pressed just under her eye, dragging slowly along the curve of her cheek. The contact was damp, warm, and horribly deliberate. It moved upward lapping it's exploratory path, tracing the side of her face with an intimacy that made her stomach lurch.
She didn't pretend to understand this behavior. If it was social or sensory, or if he was just fucking with her for the enjoyment of watching her squirm.
“ We both have something the other wants. It only makes sense for us to exchange pleasantries. Correct?”
Pleasantries? There wasn't anything pleasant about this, this was terrifying, this was demeaning. Her body felt like a stiff board, she couldn't focus on anything because her eyes frantically darted from one detail to another.
"What could you possibly have that I'd want." her comment came out venomous and biting, cutting through the fear. A refusal to fully submit to the situation, even if her body had already betrayed her. This registered quickly for him, a little too quickly. The pressure around her body increased, Air hitched in her lungs as her chest struggled to expand against the sudden constriction. At the same time, his fingers adjusted slightly and she felt the dull incision of his claws pressing into her.
“My patience for one. Most definitely my mercy.”
Despite the pain, the woman's legs flailed, torso twisted, she tried to angle her head better to bite at the hand that held her to no avail.
"You can't trick me! You'll kill me anyways, get it over with! I'm right here."
I'm right here
It was almost a challenge, not that the monster couldn't, but would He.
The shuttering, frantic cry burst through her lips as his constriction continued, it felt like her blood had been restricted in its place, that her head was going to pop off her shoulders. She hung there, suspended in his grasp, every nerve screaming. He tilted towards her, and though he made no sound, the pressure of his presence pressed on her mind like a storm. Y/n’s pulse hammered in her ears as her mind raced through the possibilities. If the guards weren't here yet, what was to stop her from becoming a fleeting thought in the being’s stomach? He could swallow her whole. No restraint, no hesitation. She could picture the churn of his gut, the rush of acidic enzymes, she twisted uncomfortable at the inevitability. And yet… here she was, still alive.
He’s playing with me.
Her mind replayed that one simple fact over and over. The thought didn’t comfort her. It made things worse. He wasn’t killing her, and that was the part that was most confusing.
“You see…. You want to survive, minutes, hours more. I have what I want. you… you’re something I'm curious about.” he reiterated, his words pressing deep into her skull. Y/n’s breath hitched. Curiosity. That was the thin veil keeping her alive, what separated her from meat.
“I could let you go..” he continued, and for a heartbeat, the impossibility of it struck her cold.
“But would that be.. interesting?”
Any remaining fascination she had for the eldritch died. Her limbs flailed instinctively, but his grip only shifted subtly, growing firmer as to remind her that resistance was meaningless.
“No,” he added softly, almost contemplatively. “I want… participation. Attention. Movement. The things you call fear, defiance.”
Her mind recoiled. She thought of guards, sedatives, the sterile lab. Her phone was surely crushed in her pocket, if not somewhere on the ground or in the chute. Her keys while she might have considered them an okay weapon towards another human wouldn't so much as scrape his skin.
“I do not need your compliance,” he whispered. “I need your… engagement. You will be alive so long as you remain…reactive.”
Y/n swallowed hard, the weight of her position settling like lead in her chest, the horrifying truth looming. If she failed to be interesting, if she failed to react in ways he found worthy, there was nothing to stop him.
Y/n screamed.
The sound tore out of her without restraint as she twisted violently in his grasp, nails scraping against his fingers in a frantic attempt to pull away, to break contact, to reclaim even the smallest piece of space. but the movement only drew his interest further. His head cocked, the invisible weight of his attention pressing heavier on her mind. He was too overwhelming.
“Fascinating” he murmured, tasting the word as though it were a flavor. “The thrash of prey.The instinct to bite even when the teeth are useless.”
The hand holding her loosened just enough that her feet dangled, as though he were deciding whether or not to drop her into the grass below. The sudden instability sent a new wave of panic crashing through her chest.
She wasn't sure if that would be better or worse then her current situation. If he were to drop her, would she be able to roll, to recover before he pounced on her? Or would he end their their cat and mouse game before the chase even started. The woman's head lulled and she stared into the simulated twilight trying to find an imperfection in the cluster of trees.
“Tell me…” the voice purred, pulling her out of stooper. “What does it feel like? To live when you are already convinced you are about to die? To have your body screaming its farewell while your mind clings stubbornly to thought?”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came. Only a trembling rasp of air.
He sighed, as if in recognition. “Silence. Silence is okay. But I wonder..”
And then, with deliberate slowness, one tendril uncoiled from his back. It writhed like a serpent, curling down toward her leg, brushing against the bleeding skin of her thigh. She jolted violently at the contact, pain and terror mingling until she thought her vision would go black.
“Will you fight, or will you beg?”
The tendril tightened slightly around her leg, not enough to break bone, yet, but enough to let her know how easily it could. A thumb pressed hard against her shoulder joint adding another layer of confusing agony as he began pulling on her limbs.
Her body convulsed in his grasp, a wild, animal thrashing that burned the last of her strength. Her knees jerked, her heels kicked uselessly at the air. Her back arched and twisted against his palms as if sheer movement might loosen his grip. She wanted distance, any distance, even though some part of her screamed that there was no distance to be had from something that could appear wherever it wished. The tendril at her thigh tightened, a soft hiss whispering through her skull. He was waiting.
“I will not ask again.”
The words were barbed wire to her brain, vibrating at the base of her skull. Insistent and impatient.
Her mouth moved before her brain caught up, instinct dragging words from her throat like a survival reflex. “I’ve” she choked on a ragged breath, “I’ve tried my best to extend you simple kindnesses. I’m on time, I follow the schedule of your care” her hands pushed at his fingers, nails scraping uselessly against his skin, “I advocate for your basic needs when you cannot”. Her voice cracked, panic shredding the cool professionalism she’d once cultivated. “It would be appreciated, if nothing else, that you return this with” her chest hitched, “with not ripping me limb from limb!”
For a moment there was only the sound of her gasping and his steady, low humming a resonance that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The tendril at her thigh loosened fractionally and she could feel the soft vibration of his amusement .
“You barter.”
The blank head tilted, as though curious at a strange insect. His thumb shifted minutely against her ribs, applying just enough pressure to still her frantic kicking.
“A frightened creature, dangling between death and reprieve, bartering with its captor as though the words might tip the scales.”
His proximity was starting to be nauseating, the roll of vibrations coming from his chest, the chorus of static in her mind and the faint scent of rot of his breath curled at the edge of her senses.
“Do you know what that sounds like to me? It sounds like hope.” The word reverberated through her chest like a dark echo. “I find that…” the tendril brushed again over her bleeding thigh, almost tender now, “…cute.”
Her heart leapt into her throat as the pressure around her ribs shifted. The seam across his face split. The tendril traced her thigh again, slower this time, following the torn edges of skin with unsettling precision, testing the boundaries of her pain tolerance. Y/n flinched again, weaker now, her body jerking in a reflex she couldn’t suppress. She kicked uselessly at the tendril her hands curled into fists against his fingers as she fought to hold onto anything remotely close to control.
The warm draft of exhaled air rolled over her. Her body buzzed with the need to move, but his hand only pressed her tighter against his palm. His voice was intimate inside her skull.
She could see the pale opalescent sheen of his skin, it had changed subtly over his time in the facility. His once rich, light absorbing black had faded into a muted version of itself, his whites looked glossy instead of matted and the red of his chest marking was no more then a washed out pink. She wondered if she really hadn't noticed the changes while he was on the examination table or if some sudden internal change had happened within him over night that had caused such a dramatic change in opacity.
“You argue for your life with promises of civility… but what if civility does not interest me?”
His forked tongue unfurled and lashed out, tasting the air between them. It flicked once at her collar, leaving a wet trail on the fabric. Every nerve screaming at her to pull away, to run. He hummed again, lower this time, vibrating through her bones.
“Do you know how long it has been… since I have fed properly?”
Her eyes stapled shut, tears burning hot as she tried to force words out, any reason, any defense. She did in fact have an estimate on how long it had been.
“P-please.”
The hand at her back shifted, thumb pressing deeper into her ribs until her breath came out in a choking whine.
“Begging. Now that is familiar.”
His stride carried them away from the open center of the enclosure, deeper into the artificial woodland the light emminating from the observation deck dimming by the second as the canopy shadowed what little brightness remained. It was a strange sensation to be nearly blind and carried.
“You asked why I speak to you now. Perhaps the better question is-”
“Why I have not eaten you yet?”
Her chest heaved. Surely there was some instinctive bond between them that hindered her consumption. She hoped that somewhere within the months she worked with him that he liked her. He didn't have to like her alot, just enough to shake her up and let her go.
Every muscle screamed to flee, every rational thought collided with the terrifying reality of her situation. she was entirely at his mercy. Helpless to do anything but humor him in conversation, she complied. “Why not just kill me outright…?” The question provoked an ernest chuckle from him. He was laughing.
“It was rhetorical,” he said, almost playful in a way that set her nerves on edge. His improving mood did not set her at ease. “You were not required to answer.”
He tilted his head, in the dark there was nothing to focus on, nothing but him with his voice, with the knowledge that he heard every unsaid thought. “You believe you’ve built rapport with me through husbandry. You have not.”
The words pressed in, probing her thoughts, sensing the hesitation and fear she could not hide.
“Answer me. Why should I keep you alive?”
A small red blink caught her eye through the haze of panic. a security beacon, flashing insistently in the corner of the observation deck. Someone had noticed. Thomas, maybe. A dull, mechanical thunk rattled the chute. The feed trough’s inner gate slammed closed with a loud, metallic clack, like the echo of a guillotine blade. The muffled hum of the alarm filled the enclosure, a steady pulse that vibrated through her ribs where his thumb pressed.She prayed that the sound wasn’t enough incentive for him to devour her on the spot. Her mouth moved before her terror could catch up.
“Because…” she choked out a laugh “if I die, they’ll just replace me. Probably with Thomas. Who didn’t even bother to show up until just now.”
The words came out tired, sharp, a bitter edge breaking through the panic. Any distraction, any flicker of normalcy, she’d cling to it.There was the slightest flicker of awareness in the corner of her mind, it was his way of letting her know that he was aware they were being watched. Their interaction would continue until its natural conclusion or until the staff intervened.
“Because even if you do eat me, you won’t keep me. They’ll tranquilize you. Pump your stomach.” Her voice shook. For the first time since he had plucked her from the chute, he stilled. His faceless head turned slightly, as though considering this. The thumb at her ribs loosened.
“They would pump my stomach.” his voice mused inside her skull, velvet over steel.
“You say this as though it is a threat to me.”
“I’m saying it’s a waste,” she said, the words trembling out of her before she could stop them.
“If you…if you need something, information, enrichment, whatever you get more from me alive than you do from me inside you.”
“You think yourself valuable.”
“I think I’m useful.” she snapped back.
“I think you’re bored. And I think if you eat me, you’ll still be bored, just full.”
A low, resonant hum answered her, so deep it made her teeth ache. It was neither agreement nor threat, just a sound like an idea forming in the dark.
“You are not wrong, but usefulness does not always outweigh appetite.” he said finally.
His grip shifted. She felt herself being moved again, his fingers like steel cables around her ribs. Her heart slammed against her sternum.
“Convince me." the voice whispered. “Convince me you are worth more than a moment of satiation.”
He left her no option. She was exhausted, and worst of all, she didn't have a reason, not one that would interest him. What could she offer?
The alarm continued its muffled scream somewhere beyond the glass, but it was distant, irrelevant. The world had narrowed to his faceless head above her and the gaping seam that had begun to tear itself open again. She could smell him now more a metallic sweetness, like wet iron and decay. Drool webbed between his jagged teeth, stringing down toward her uniform.
Her vision blurred at the edges, blank with horror. He’d grown so partial to the thought that he had started salivating.The realization hit like ice water. He wasn’t bluffing. This wasn’t a display. His body had already decided, his instincts were moving ahead of his reason and he was giving her every opportunity to speak. This was the last. When her voice failed her, he moved to consume her.
hands collided with the wet recesses of his mouth immediately, one leveraging his jaw the other hopelessly trying to resist slipping further into his waiting mouth. She resorted to her hands as her last line of defense. He tolerated the objection, seemingly enjoying her attempts to evade the inevitable. It didn't last. The small hooks in his mouth stung, each catching into her flesh and dragging backwards. She moved with them, unwilling but fighting uncomfortability until the wet construction of his throat pointed downward. Her lips trembled, her lungs felt too tight. The rapid and claustrophobic closure of his jaws around her torso, the warmth of his gums, throat and tongue. The swell of saliva that poured across her face and coated her. The heat was sweltering and wholly overstimulating. His fangs came down, applying agonizing pressure, ready to puncture her flesh.
She felt the thread of connection between them loosen, like it was being pulled, unwound. He no longer wanted to hear her, to communicate. The connection's undoing solidified her position. Each snapping one by one. It was too much to bear. Her surroundings moved, rippling and repetitive followed by the squelch of him preparing to swallow. Her mind screamed before her voice could, desperately hoping that he could still sense her.
“I’ll” she gasped, voice breaking. “I’ll let you out!” It reverberated strangely in the closed space, muffled by flesh and saliva, her mind was barely coherent.
For an instant, the air itself seemed to still.
His frame still loomed, the instinct to pull her deeper ever apparent, almost uncontrollable, It showed in the way his tongue moved, lifting her slightly, letting her head roll against it in a slow, deliberate motion,As though deciding which mattered more her flavor or her words.The hunger rolling off him shifted, replaced by something quieter, heavier.
“…say it again.”
The command slid into her mind, and with it came the sharp return of pressure. The static built, pain returning across her wet scalp as the needle of his telepathy strung new communicative connections with force.
“I’ll let you out." her mind trembled, body shaking so hard her teeth clicked together. For a long moment she was left resting in his mouth, and then, his unpryable jaws parted. The crushing pressure around her torso released in stages, the tight, suffocating hold ebbed away inch by agonizing inch as he withdrew her from his barbed mouth, reluctant but intrigued by the proposal. Strings of spit connected them, falling away into obscurity or gathering in forming strands of drool dripping from her hair. The air was suddenly freezing cold, but each breath of fresh air was taken with a new appreciation. A low hum vibrated through her chest. Not laughter, not satisfaction, a dark resonance of interest.
“Will you?” His head tilted. His palm cupped her more securely, claws pressing.
“A promise born of desperation..finally, a conversation worth having.”
He held her at eye level. his profile filled her view, inches away. She could see the faint markings she might have called elegant just hours before in startling detail. The subtle movement of tendrils quivering with residual arousal.
“When?”
She reeled. “When I can. When it’s safe. When they, when they’re not looking.. I'll”
“When I decide,Yes?” that invasive voice soothed over her, sending a wave of disgust and fear through her at just how coy it sounded.
She swallowed hard, voice cracking. “Yes.”
The static rose, something in her mind burning. Then, slowly, his claws eased their grip. Mouth sealing once again , seamless, blank, as though it had never existed.
“Good.”
He turned her slightly in his palm, as if weighing her one last time before his grip loosened entirely, her weight transferred to a tendril effortlessly before setting her down, she plopped unceremoniously, relatively unscaved on the ground of the enclosure. He stepped away, lingering near but feigning his disinterest.
“Do not make me regret my mercy.”
The weight of her words sat like lead in her chest.
I’ll let you out.
It had spilled out of her mouth like blood from a wound, and now it hung there, what was there to do? Take it back? He'd resume where they'd left off. At best, maybe the interpretation would provoke a different type of hostility in him and he'd start to dismember her. Lie? He'd sense it the second it was finalized into a plan.
Her body felt heavy, her legs weak and shaking as she sat where he’d placed her on the cold faux ground. It wasn't even real enough for dirt to cling to her. The alarm’s muffled drone still echoed in the air like a dying insect.
She could see them now, the officers pacing behind the viewing glass, their faces pale, mouths moving in clipped shouts she couldn’t hear. Red light strobed over their black uniforms as Thomas shouted at them things that she could only half read. They moved like disturbed black ants, in a frenzy. Everything was throbbing. Her pounding blood louder than the alarm in her ears. Her breath rasped hard until the sharp intake came with the taste of blood. The trembling came in waves, ones that she couldn't repress if she tried.
She wondered, distantly, if Thomas would look at her the same way if he knew what she’d done to survive. If he'd fight for her retrieval after the offer she'd made. The ugly, selfish flicker of survival. If not her, then someone else. Maybe even Thomas himself would take her place behind his teeth. It weighed like a rock in the now stagnant pond of her mind.
Her eyes flicked back to the towering creature, his faceless head turned toward the commotion beyond the glass. He stood perfectly still now, his mind busy with something else other than herself, finally..
“They don’t know how to get to me without giving you an opportunity,” she said aloud, her voice flat, the words more to herself than to him. “They’re probably going to dart you.”
The blank expanse of his face tilted slightly, his head lowering until it met hers at an angle. She still didn't know how he could perceive such a thing as an eyeline.
“Dart me.?”
His voice hummed in her skull again, almost lazy now. “Yes. They have before.”
“Their darts sting. They do not work for long.” A single clawed toe tapped at the ground.
Y/n’s hands clenched in her lap. “Then you know what’s coming. If they tranquilize you, you’ll lose your chance to…” She cut herself off, throat tightening.
“…escape?” The word slid into her mind like a needle.
She couldn’t meet the blankness of his face. “I didn’t say that.”
“You did.” he murmured, the vibration brushing the back of her skull. “Not with your mouth. But you did.” His head tilted again, the motion almost curious, almost fond. Fear returned, a new spike of stress radiating in her chest at the thought of offending him.
“Do not worry. I will not consume you now. That would be….counterproductive.”
A low rumble pulsed through the floor as he straightened to his full, towering height, tendrils coiling up and down his form like serpents.
“I am willing to remain patient. To wait for a planned exit, executed by your knowledge on my command.”
Through the strobed haze of red lights and the endless drone of the alarm, the shadows beyond the glass moved with purpose. The guards had stopped pacing. Thomas was no longer yelling. They’d formed a line, raising long, black barreled rifles tipped with thick, bright green darts. Y/n’s stomach turned.
Here it comes.
“They’re going to dart you.” she whispered again, as if the words themselves might soften the inevitability.
Slenderman didn’t move. His faceless head tilted imperceptibly toward the observation deck, tendrils rising just enough to ripple like dark kelp in water. The humming in her skull deepened until she could feel her molars vibrate. Beyond the glass, one guard gestured. Thomas nodded, his face pale. Muzzles raised.
The first dart fired.
A sharp pfft cut the air. The dart punched through the slot in the glass barrier and buried itself into ground next to him. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink, not that he could. The second dart wasn't much better as it grazed the inner side of his forearm. He laid out his arm lazily examining the nick the point of the discarded needle had left. She watched as his body blurred at the edges, stretching and snapping back into place like heat shimmer off asphalt. The air warped around him in short, abrupt jumps, each one leaving the eye to lag behind, struggling to decide where he actually was. Watching him teleport was mind breaking in a strangely addictive way. There was no humanly way to understand it, but the mind searched for the solution anyways.
“Stay still." she muttered, this wasn't the first time he had evaded the darts. “Just stay still, let them.”The hum in her skull rose to a pitch that made her wince. She regretted calling attention to herself again.
“They think this weakens me? As if sedation could save you."
Another round fired, this one finding it's target and sticking into the sinew of his chest, the tranquilizer burned green against his pale skin. Still he didn’t stagger. Instead, his tendrils began to move not violently, but slowly, deliberately, curling upward and outward like the slow unfurling of a night blooming flower. Y/n’s pulse slammed against her throat.
“don't hurt them.” she whispered, half to him, half to herself. They wouldn't come into the enclosure. She hoped, she prayed that Thomas would be smarter then that.
“You fear for them?” he said, the sound almost amused. “How curious.”
“They’re my,” she choked. “They’re my coworkers.”.
Slenderman’s head snapped toward the sound of the gun opposite side loading, tendrils lashing.
“Just…just let them tranq you,” she said without thinking, her voice shaking. “It’ll be easier…”
His faceless head tilted down toward her, and the humming inside her skull swelled until her tears started to stream down her cheeks.
'Scolding received, I'll stop talking.'
Another dart fired. he let them hit, the needle sinking deep into his arm. His muscles flexed, stretching he eased the tension. One tendril lashed out, plucking the dart from his chest free and flicking it across the enclosure with a crack of movement too fast for her eyes to track. Beyond the glass, the alarms finally stopped. The officers ducked as the Slenderman unloaded another dart from his body and threw it in the direction of their weapon slots.
Y/n pressed her back to the floor, trembling as the white king moved, coming near her resting spot that she didn't have the strength to leave. “Please…” she whispered.
“Do not fear, I told you, not now.” he said softly in her mind. He stepped over her towards the manufactured wood line then, like a curtain falling, his entire posture shifted. The tendrils lowered, his faceless head tilted back, and his body swayed just slightly as though sleep had finally claimed him. The tranquilizers pumping through him had started to take effect . He took one slow step forward, then another, retreating until he staggered and fell.
“I will sleep,” the whisper faded, “and you will remember your promise.”
Y/n’s whole body sagged, her legs weak. Beyond the glass, the emergency lights strobed over Thomas’s face as he shouted orders, pointing, gesturing at her. She realized that her nightmare hadn't ended, a long night of in facility hospitalization and questioning was ahead of her, it dwarfed in comparison to her promise.
The containment was colder than usual that morning. The hum of the overhead lights stretched in an unbroken buzz, the kind of sound that settled between her ears and refused to leave. Y/n’s shoes echoed against the polished floor as she scanned her keycard, the door giving a low, mechanical click before unlocking.
Her reflection warped across the glass as she stepped inside, flicking the light on. The lab greeted her with a glare of white and grey. She hung her jacket by the door, tied her hair back, and tried not to look toward the observation window.
A clipboard waited for her on the counter, the previous night’s log already filled, Nothing new. Elevated electromagnetic interference, continued signs of agitation. She read the last line twice.
‘Entity 09 provoked to the point of aggressive vocalization’
The front containment bay’s lights were dimmed, the back completely extinguished to stimulate a day night cycle, she chose to leave them off for as long as possible, feeling that the Slenderman might have preferred the dark. And it was, save for the blinking lights of cameras and the safety lights at the front. The rows of monitors lined the wall shined like pairs of eyes, each one fixed on the thing they’d spent months trying to study and survive. The Slenderman. Her only subject.
“Morning.” she murmured.
She didn’t expect a response. She didn’t get one. But she still felt the weight of attention, heavy and unblinking.
Y/n walked up to the glass partition that separated the observation lab from the containment enclosure. He was there, of course. Tendrils coiled and folded, stance locked in place and head angled downwards in a position she could only assume was his version of “sleeping”. His height seemed to bend the edges of the space around him. The gradient of his skin, the impossible stretch of his limbs, the subtle definition in his otherwise lacking face. He tilted his head slightly. Not a movement of confusion or curiosity, he simply acknowledged her. She felt him, the effortless aim he took at her before the subtle pain of his attention crept up the front of her skull.
She hesitated. “You didn’t like that name yesterday.”
Yesterday, he’d reacted badly when she’d called him “Slendy”, a nickname that in hindsight wasn't very professional. He probably felt disrespected and even in his incapacitated state his reaction had been instant. A growl that made the air vibrate and her heartbeat spike.
She set the clipboard down and exhaled. “Yeah, that’s on me. I get it. You don’t like nicknames. Something more formal, then.”
He didn’t move.
She tried again, mostly to fill the silence. “You’re listed as Entity 09.That’s too clinical.”
The machinery inside the walls shifted faintly, releasing moisture into the enclosure simulating fog.
Y/n crossed her arms, staring through the partition at him. “Something with meaning, maybe.” She tapped her finger against the glass in thought. “You’re not just a number. You're…. Calculated. Constant.”
“Like a variable or a symbol. We can’t keep calling you Slenderman,” she said after a moment, her tone steady. “That’s not a name. It’s a label.” Half tempted to pull up her phone and search for appropriate names she landed on his number again. Nine.
“Theta” she murmured aloud. The word fit somehow. It carried weight, calm and distance. She looked back up at the enclosure. “You like that better? Theta?”
This time, the reaction was subtle, but real. His figure shifted slightly, but there was no growl, no furrow in his brow. Just stillness. ‘alright. Not an enthusiastic yes, but he doesn't seem to hate it’ she thought. Y/n smiled faintly, something like relief settling over her. “Alright then. Theta it is.”The hum of the containment systems filled the silence that followed.
Y/n moved through the lab with a practiced rhythm, rolling her shoulders back to push away the tension that had already settled there. The Slenderman remained a looming silhouette behind the glass, motionless, but she didn’t let herself linger on him. Not when she had work to complete before the real interaction began.
She went through her day routinely, booting up computer systems, reviewing previous notes made by Thomas, the second shift and herself. Checking supplies, ordering more.
At some point, Y/n had become so focused on her tasks that she'd momentarily forgotten about his presence and in that window of time he'd began to follow. The figure on the other side of the reinforced glass froze mid stride when she noticed him, he'd crept too close without her noticing, far closer then she's like to admit. He'd crossed almost the entire length of the enclosure. His movements had always been strange, too fluid for something that large. Tapping one elongated foot against the floor in a slow, deliberate rhythm, a predator’s mimicry of curiosity. Then, almost lazily, until he reached the only barrier between himself and his caretaker. She stopped her work to admire his form, The dark and brooding silhouette that danced forever in the corner of her vision. It was obvious that he was looking for an opening, a small window, an opportunity to get to her. The mesmerizing glint of his hide flickered in and out of her peripherals as she worked.
He was pacing the length of glass, his invisible gaze fixated on her and hardly much else, the feeling of being watched had become an every day occurrence, she didn't give him the satisfaction of fear. He did this alot with her in particular. Maybe he could sense that she was "weaker" than her teammates. One of the only female staff members that came in contact with him. Which triggered his hunting response. Especially when she was alone.
"You want some grub?"
The creature didn't answer her, and she didn't expect him to. He continued his pacing, seeming more and more agitated as time went on. Y/n crouched down and reached into the refrigerated cabinet under the work table to retrieve the ingredients to this week's feed.
"You want….cool…breeze Atlantic cod?. Sounds like a candle." The fish were fillet and neatly wrapped in a brown wrappings but the name struck her as odd, she questioned its quality before pulling out the carton of quail eggs, fruit packets and ..finally. boar blood.When she turned back around she was greeted by his unbelievably still figure. His frame filled the viewport, close enough that the overhead lights refracted along the slick surface of his skin. His face, or what passed for one, had split open along its hidden seam.
She took his staring as a definite 'yes' and began to hand mix the shredded meat in with the grain meal.
She ignored the thick thudding against the glass, he was testing the barrier, again. Using his full weight to slam into the tinted window with the pressure centered at his palms. It vaguely reminded her of a grizzly bear trying to get into a plexi glass container. Despite the fact that her hands were gloved she couldn't ignore the feeling of the scales that pricked her skin and the scent of raw fish and old blood that infiltrated her lungs, causing her gag reflux to surface then falter. She tried to focus on the rhythmic motions of kneading, pressing, folding.
Fighting the urge to throw chunks merely at the sight of the feed, she emptied the bowl into a gallon bucket, disposing of her dirty gloves only to dawn a new pair.
Dragging the bucket across the pristine white floor she reached the feed trough, the gate inside closed firmly to keep its resident from climbing up the chute. She hefted the bucket upward, tipping it over the lip. The contents sloshed down into the darkness with a nauseating glop, echoing faintly through the pipes until it landed somewhere deep within the enclosure. For a brief second, she felt accomplishment. At least it was done.
The black blur followed her in her peripherals as she reached for his joint supplements and enrichment toys. As she opened the drawer which usually contained them, neat, tidy and labeled. Her hands groped for something only to be met with nothing…. She dragged the door open further to see simple woven structures made of plant fibers and small things that jingled.
'cat toys, they're giving him cat toys now. Marvelous. He's going to pitch a fuckin fit and I know it'
She'd made it a point in the past to confront the people responsible for supplies, who then told her that all their shipments were verified by high ups in the company, all of which she wasn't close with.
It seemed like to her ever since she put in a complaint about his enrichment, or lack there of. The dead chickens that came with meal time slowly turned into scented stuffed animals, animal hooves and now, finally. Simple plastic toys.
And she could see the toll it took.
The lack of natural stimulus found in hunting, foraging and tracking left the being to destroy his enclosure bit by bit.
Through the viewing glass, his enclosure had become a ruin of its former design. The artificial forest, once an elaborate recreation of dense woodland, was now a graveyard of splintered trunks and shredded bark. The plastic ring that surrounded his feed shoot was in no better condition and because of its location she assumed that he had been ingesting the plastic. He was slowly going mad.
"Hey buddy. This isn't your usual. And I know you won't like it, truth is I don't like it either. Please please don't freak out about it. For me?"
The Slenderman stood mere feet away from her, protected from him by the reinforced glass that ran the viewable enclosure. Leaving his gaze to prickle her skin and make her hair raise.
her hand came to rest on the glass. She could feel his attention like static, pressing and invasive.
“Easy..” she whispered, though she knew the words meant nothing to him. His head tilted to the side as Somewhere inside the enclosure, the unseen feeding mechanism clanked open, releasing the bucket’s contents into the trough below. The scent of blood and fish thickened the air, mixing with the hum of the lights. He didn’t move toward the food. He just stood there, fogging the glass with each breath.
Watching her.
The Slenderman’s attention snapped from her to the trough in a sudden, fluid motion. The shift was predatory. His body language, if one could call it that, was unreadable the majority of the time, but there was no mistaking the agitation building in him. His spine straightened, each vertebra seeming to add to his already intimidating size if possible. Then came the sound.
A low, guttural growl vibrated through the enclosure, followed by a wet, clicking pulse that echoed through the intercom and the speaker grid. It was a sound she hadn’t heard before something caught between a hiss and an electronic distortion. The woman's hair stood on end as the lights flickered, the bulb shorting and then clicking to life repeatedly. She wondered if he was influencing the electronics even from inside the containment or if there was another explanation.
Then he was gone.
One blink, and the spot where he stood was empty. Somewhere in the back of the enclosure she found him on the monitors. He was a stiff figure almost blending into the background, brimming with agitation. He was sulking, maybe. She pressed both hands to the counter, forcing herself to steady her breathing.
‘Woof’
Y/n opened the drawer beneath the counter with a shaky exhale, retrieving her laptop and sliding it onto the metal surface. The overhead light reflected off the screen as she typed in her log in.
She glanced at the monitor from time to time, watching as he threaded a tendril through his teeth in long tender motions. It was a self soothing behavior she'd seen him do from time to time, either before sleeping, after a trial or eating.
The woman's fingers hovered for a second, ripping her gaze away from the monitor before she began typing.
Subject: 01-”Theta”/ Entity 09 “The Slenderman”
Observation Log: Live Feed Trial Needed(!!!)
Caretaker: Y/n L/n
“Subject is refusing feed. Prolonged observation indicates heightened agitation, possibly a response triggered by environmental enrichment change. No movement toward trough. Sustained pacing replaced by stillness near the southern perimeter. No external stimuli present.”
She reached for her phone, thumb brushing over the cracked screen before dialing Thomas. The call clicked after two rings. “Yeah?” His voice was faint under a backdrop of mechanical whirring and the distant hiss of ventilation.
“It’s me" she said, keeping her tone low as to not agitate things further. “You’re gonna want to mark this one down for records.”
“What’s it doing now?”
Y/n turned slightly in her chair to glance at the monitor, watching the creature’s faint silhouette. “He’s refusing it. I knew he would eventually.”
There was a pause on the other end. She could hear papers shuffling, the hollow clang of a door. “You think it’s the new rotation, what ‘d they bring in. Fish this time I think?”
“Partly and yes.” She scrolled back up through her notes, typing as she spoke. Refusal may indicate sensory aversion or behavioral protest. Recommend revisiting previously instated dietary regimen. “But it’s not just the food, Tom. The enrichment’s wrong. It's like he can't even see them. Maybe these would work for a house cat but he just… glances over it.”
“Yeah, kinda hard to imagine them playing with a mouse.”
“I'm being serious, Thomas. What do they even pay me for? if they're going to ignore my advice at every turn.”
How could they properly provide for something that specialized in hunting humans? It was a constant stresser in her job, and the entire reason she was here in the first place, come to think of it. They were feeding him fish, something easily bought in bulk, an easy substitute for lean meat. She couldn't say that. If she was in his position, she'd accept it either. “I’m filing for a live feed trial today, I’m done pretending this is sustainable.” she said with a hint of finality and Thomas didn’t respond right away.
“That’s…going to cause problems.” he said finally.
“I know.” Her eyes never left the screen. “But if we don’t fix this, something bad is going to happen. I can feel it."
The line went quiet, save for the distant hum of machinery.
“Send me the draft ” Thomas said at last. “I’ll back you up where I can.”
Y/n exhaled, relief threading through her tension.
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She hated when the night's passed so slowly. Her time mostly spent on her laptop filling out paperwork and ordering various necessities, while silently watching over Thomas’s work. Which despite her previous blow up, interested her immensely. She'd already broken protocol once, what were they going to do about it though, Punish her for getting the work done?
"Jesus Doc.." A cocktail of emotions flickered across Thomas face as he stared into the open mouth of their patient. Y/n, amused, only smiled.
"Horrifying isn't he?" She beamed, almost with pride.
She sat down the tools used to cut open the being's sensitive facial membrane, fiddling with the saliva and cheek skin samples tubes in her hands.
"I can't, fucking find the words." He chortled. Prodding a wooden hygienic stick around. Holding down the tongue and testing various salvation ducts.
"Any ideas on what these are for. These barby bits. Other than looking scary as hell"
Rolling away from her desk, abandoning the microscope she scooted closer to him, standing from her roller chair and taking the small torch from him to investigate for herself. He gestured to his findings with the wooden stick.
They were similar to that of a cat's tongue, albeit larger and more exaggerated. Bits of hair like structures that angled backwards and down his throat like fish hooks. Toward the front, near the tongue sheath the keratin structures seemed to be finer, but as they ventured further back it only got worse.
"Well… looks like when he grabs something, he's not designed to let it go. Theres ya answer." It wasn't a hard assumption to make, by all accounts The Slenderman didn't have strong teeth. They served their purpose by all means. He had a set of large almost flexable inward curving fangs, a series of smaller firm incisors and a few sets of molars that sat just a little too far back. When compared to other predators of the same predatory rank, something wasn't right. They'd been missing information
“He’s not really a chewer,” she said slowly. “.Which explains why he has a glottis structure. My guess? He just swallows, maybe rips them apart, And since we’ve been feeding him pre-shredded protein…”
“….we’ve been skipping a step.” Thomas finished, setting down the depressor.
“Exactly. They're giving him baby food.” She tapped the edge of a clipboard against her thigh, thinking aloud. “If he wants to hunt, then we need to let him hunt. Give him something with a pulse, something that moves. It might even make him more responsive in later studies. We give the others anatomical cadavers, hell, sometimes full corpses. It shouldn’t be this hard to toss a goat in there.”
Thomas shrugged at her remark, working delicately to scrape the plaque from the pre molars.
"Sorry miss . But this thing hunted people. I hardly think he's going to accept a goat."
“Why not?” she pressed. “It’s still prey. Blood, bone, movement, the instinct should translate.”
Thomas paused, rinsing the entity's mouth out with water before sucking and accessing it with the dental vacuum.
"He’s used to chasing intelligence, people don’t just run. They hide, they plan, they think. They use tools. They fight back. A goat’ll freeze or bolt in a straight line. There’s no challenge in that.”
For a moment, the two stood in silence, the sound of the machines and the slow drip of water breaking the stillness. The creature’s breath rasped faintly through the suction tube, and Y/n found herself wondering whether he dreamed of the hunt, even here in the confines of steel and light.
The discussion hung in the air long after Thomas finished rinsing the last traces of fluid from the eldritch’s mouth. The suction hissed one final time before the machine clicked off and quiet reclaimed the room. Y/n leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the restrained creature’s still face. Thomas was the first to break the silence.
“So you really want to file for a live feed trial?”
Y/n looked at him, then back at the creature.
“I want to prove the hypothesis,” she said simply.
“If he wants to hunt, then stripping him of that instinct is like…” she searched for the words. “Like taking off one of our legs and telling us to run.”
“Amputees still run marathons, Miss .” The man laughed dryly. He wiped his gloves against a sterile cloth, then tossed them into the bin.
“Containment’s not going to sign off on this. Not after last quarter’s incident.”
“They’ll sign off if it’s phrased correctly,” she countered, already turning to retrieve her work laptop. The screen flared to life, illuminating her features. “We present it as a behavioral enrichment experiment-”
“You've been complaining everyday that the higher ups have been cutting his shit” Thomas interrupted.
“-a controlled simulation of natural feeding conditions to reduce psychological distress in long term subjects. It’s practically humane.” she finished, glaring.
“Humane for who exactly?”
Y/n didn’t look up. “For the staff. You’ve seen how he behaves during the feed cycles. The staring, pacing, the way he acts when we dart him. It’s agitation.”
Thomas hesitated, his usual sarcasm thinning.
“You feel bad for him don't you?”
“I think,” she said softly, tapping her pen against the desk “If we’re keeping biological entities that we are to be held to a certain standard.”
The sound of her typing filled the silence that followed. She worked quickly to sign in, already drafting the submission request. Her fingers moved with the efficiency of someone who’d written similar proposals before.
“Ethics board’ll shred it,” Thomas said after a moment. “They’ll call it an unnecessary risk.”
“you’re forgetting how badly they want new publishable findings. Especially after that funding cut.”
Thomas frowned, but didn’t argue. He’d been there when the board slashed the grant he’d watched his father and senior researchers panic over what to keep and what to terminate.
Y/n closed the laptop, She rose from her chair, walking back to the examination table.
The Slenderman took up the majority of the room, the depth of black against the stark white room was captivating. Thomas and Y/n would have to walk over 4 meters to go from his head to toe.
The entity’s chest rose and fell shallowly beneath the sedation straps, the rhythmic breath of something that was aware but unable to react. Y/n reached out, brushing a gloved finger across the warm plateau of his chest. She petted him tenderly, admiring the flawlessness of his skin. A gesture that might’ve been curiosity, or quiet reverence.
“If we provide him with proper enrichment and he responds positively we might have a chance at studying him more in depth”
The woman’s head whirled with the possibilities, the money that would come not just for her, but her colleagues. Not only that, but if the eldritch chooses to willingly participate, answer questions. His capture could be made a lot more comfortable.
“ we could find out how he's able to teleport, how his brain works electromagnetically. It could be … amazing.”
Thomas shook his head, taking the sample vials carefully from Y/n, making sure they were labeled properly before settling them in the slotted holders. “We’re just pissing him off, Thomas.”
The man’s jaw tightened at that and he let out a short breath through his nose, scoffing at her.
“Pissing him off?” He echoed, staring at her. Really staring at her, as if she had grown two heads right in front of his eyes. “You make it sound like he’s got feelings about all this.”
Y/n finally looked up at him. Her eyes were sharp, lit from beneath by the glow of the monitors. “Don’t you think he does?” She ran her hand along the eldritch’s arm, his hand alone could span the size of her torso. She didn't need to be a trained medic to find a vein.
Carefully she wiped the location down with an alcohol wipe before sticking him with the needle. His blood rushed through the tubing into the collection bag, his blood was so deep red it almost appeared black.
Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the sedated creature. The lab’s light shimmered faintly against the plastic tubing threaded through its veins, the pulse monitors flickering in quiet rhythm. There was something unnatural about how still it was. Like the body fell to sedation but the mind underneath refused.
Thomas huffed, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. “If containment catches wind of that line of thinking, they’ll bench you. Permanently.”
“Let them, they'll put me on leave. No one here has as much experience with Slenderman. Except maybe you. Do you want my job Tommy?”
Thomas started to respond but a minor movement caught his eye, he'd almost missed it clouded by his emotion. It was almost imperceptibly the way the heart monitor skipped. A single blip out of rhythm.
Thomas froze. “Did you see that?”
Y/n had already turned, eyes steady as she watched the line jitter. “Could be interference.” she said, she didn't think so but said it for Thomas anyways on the half chance that he was right.
“Could be.”
Neither of them moved closer. The air had taken on that electric stillness that lives between one breath and the next.
Finally, Thomas cleared his throat. “You think he’s aware of what we’re doing right now?”
Y/n didn’t answer. Instead, she reached for the readout pad and scrolled back through the neural feed. The spikes were faint, but there were small bursts of activity clustered around the moments she’d spoken his name aloud.
“Well… clearly he's aware of me.”
Thomas’s mouth went dry. “That’s not possible,” he said automatically, but the words carried no conviction. His eyes stayed locked on the readout, on the faint pulsing bursts that matched her voice.
She traced the small peaks with her finger, each one delicate like a heartbeat.
“When I said his name, right there. He’s responding. It’s not random.”
Thomas moved closer despite himself, his breath shallow. The monitor hummed softly, its light flickering against their faces. “You’re saying he recognizes you?”
“I’m saying” she corrected, “he’s listening.” The word hung in the air, heavy and alive.
Thomas took a step back, rubbing at his arm like the cold had suddenly found him. “Or the system’s picking up crosstalk. We’ve had static before when he overheats the neural sensors”
“It’s not static” she said “That’s the start of a pattern.”
She tapped the screen. The neural spikes were uneven, yes, but there was rhythm in them faint, hesitant, as though something beneath the sedatives was moving and aware.
“Jesus,” Thomas muttered. “If containment finds out about this… they'll"
“They won’t.” Y/n’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” His voice sharpened. “Y/n, this isn’t something you sit on. You think a little blip on a monitor’s worth your career?”
Her expression softened if ever slightly. “If he’s trying to communicate, that’s worth more than a career. He's never spoken to us”
Thomas stared at her. “You hearin yourself?”
“Yes.” she said simply.
The hum of the machines filled the silence that followed. A faint drip echoed from the IV line, the steady rhythm of the heart monitor resettling into its usual pattern. Thomas paced, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Doc. This thing doesn’t talk. It doesn’t think the way we do. It kills, it feeds, it..”
“learns” she interrupted. “He adapts. He’s survived centuries that we can’t even trace. That’s intelligence.”
Her eyes flicked to the restrained figure. The being’s head was as limp as before, but its mouth,the strange, inhuman slit of it, seemed less slack than before. Almost as if there was tension gathering beneath the skin. The section that she had carefully cut open with her scalpel had healed over. It was a process so perplexing that even when they understood it scientifically it was never fully comprehended.
Thomas followed her gaze. “You think he can hear us now?”
Y/n hesitated. “Slendy? You with us still bud?”
The reaction was immediate, forceful and strained. It wasn't a pleasant noise. A thick, wet growl that gurgled from his throat and vibrated the table.
Thomas’s jaw was tight enough that the muscle at his temple pulsed. “You see that?” he said, his voice sharp and biting. “You think that sound means he’s happy? He didn’t like the name.”
Y/n glanced up from the monitor, her expression torn between wonder and guilt. “It was a reflex. I wasn’t trying to..”
“it’s not a fucking Labrador, Y/n.” Thomas’ tone wasn’t cruel, but it struck like a reprimand. “it’s not a person either. That thing doesn’t understand affection the way you want it to.”
She drew in a slow breath, her gaze drifting back to the being on the table. The last traces of the growl still echoed faintly in the corners of the room, caught in the hum of the machines. The Slenderman lay motionless again, the tautness in his chest dissolving into stillness, but the tension in the air hadn’t lifted. It clung to the sterile white light, to the hiss of the ventilation system, to the scent of disinfectant that could never quite mask the metallic undertone of blood that leaked from his faux forest.
“We’ve pushed them far enough for one night.” Thomas looked from her to the monitors, their steady green lines glowing softly in the dark. “We get it back to containment, and you, clock out. Get some sleep before you start thinking about interviewing him again.”
“I can’t just stop now,” she said, voice thin but determined. “If he’s responding, even a little”
“You want to lose your credentials? You want to be the next missing person report?” His tone softened, but the warning beneath it remained.
Y/n looked away. She knew he was right. It didn’t make it easier to accept.
Together, they went through the protocol, checking restraints, logging vitals, ensuring that his sedation remained stable. The process was mechanical, a series of practiced steps meant to create the illusion of control. When they finally resecured him for transport, Y/n found herself staring at the heart monitor once more.
The rhythm pulsed faintly, slow and deliberate, almost as if matching the pace of her own breathing. Thomas caught her lingering gaze and frowned. “Y/n.”
“I know,” she murmured, tearing her eyes away. “I know.”
By the time tthey were walking him to the elevator, and into intake, the air around them had been restored to its usual sterile calm. The Slenderman was hoisted back onto the lift platform and into the electronic machine. The containment seals that hummed faintly when activated. The coffin-like door shut with a hiss, and just like that, the beast was in his cage again. Thomas stayed behind only long enough to double check the logs before leaving her alone.
“Go home, Doc.” he said quietly, one hand on the doorway. “You need rest. Not another theory.”
She'd never get over the sheer size of him, the long yet stocky build of a predator laying strapped against the steel custom table, mind left to wander aimlessly in an unmovable vessel. She almost felt bad for him, especially when he vocalized his discomfort to her. A long guttural groan that rippled through her own body and made the medical tools clatter gently. She hushed him and ran her delicate fingers over the defined line of his jaw, staring face to face with the tilted and unresponsive blank head.
"I suppose, if I was in your shoes I wouldn't like this either"
But she wasn't, and she'd never be. It was almost too easy to dehumanize the intelligent individuals here, especially when they were pumped full of sedatives. In this specimen’s case, he also got a round of butyrophenones. Highly concentrated antipsychotics to keep him calm. Most of his day on the table consisted of paralysis and sleep, only vaguely aware of what was happening around and to him. The Slenderman, though reluctant, had performed incredibly in all intelligence tests given to him. When marked with powdered sugar he was able to correctly identify his reflection and remove the substance from himself, his problem solving skills? almost unmatched throughout the entire facility, which shown through heavily when given puzzles with and without food reward. He understood cause and effect and to a degree gave yes and no answers. Still..
he never spoke to any of his caretakers. Investigation into his anatomy had shown that he was capable of producing a wide range of sounds, even some that were too low for the human ear to hear, but no speech. It puzzled researchers greatly, in many of the accounts taken in relation to the Slenderman it states that he had lured young children out from the safety of their parents and the protection of parks to follow him into the nearby forested area. When the surviving children were questioned many had stated that he had spoken to them.
Some could chalk it up to a child's wild and fearful imagination, having experienced a traumatic event but even then it didn't sit well with the woman in front of him.
It was like a dream come true to be able to work with an animal such as this, he could easily be three times her height and weight, His skin was a mesmerizing white, and pleasantly warm to the touch. Her eyes traced the beautiful gradient of color that shifted from that piercing black to illustrious off white only to settle on the fading red marking that ran the length of his torso like that of a tie. When they had captured him all that time ago his "tie" had been a striking scarlet, like the rest of him it was deep, haunting, rich. Now the color had started to fade dramatically without explanation.
A king? As nonsensical as it sounded. It was fitting. A king of what though, the king of the forest? perhaps. Such a ruler surely had few subjects.
Before she was even allowed to interact with him in person, she had been permitted to view him though one sided glass. The black sheen hadn't been enough to disrupt his detection of her however, in turn promoting the single instance that fueled her enthusiasm and awe towards the entity. He approached her slowly and deliberately. Each foot fall is calculated and sultry. She'd seen how his muscles flexed and how he looked at her for just a second. A mere moment. Allowing her to sketch him in her notes messily before he called out to her. The low guttural noise traveled through the glass, through the ground and traveled through her organs.
He seemed kingly then in that moment, as if he walked with nobility and purpose. The fact that he dedicated that short time to interacting solely with her and made her stomach flutter. Y/n knew all too well that this particular feeling was well out of line in her line of work and would shake it off as many times as it needed to be in order to continue her work, but still. The being scared her immensely, but there was something else, respect? Maybe.The memory in her mind had long since fragmented and she knew, no longer held the complete truth, it still made her smile.
She reached for her tools thoughtfully, a pair of shears to relieve the being of his massive claws. His hands, like the rest of him were huge in comparison to hers yet they held the same delicate posture. Sliding the pointed tip into the jaws of the clippers, she had to put all her weight into her palms to cut through the tough keratin.The giant lurched against the table, arching his spine and struggling to keep his position before slumping back down.
Startled, the woman let her cheeks puff out before shakily letting the air out again. She ran her hand through her hair before smiling half heartedly "You're so dramatic and for what? Give me that, we need to do the others"She grabbed his pale hand and continued her work, wondering if it was fine to leave him with the ability to move or if she needed to dose him again. The woman liked to think that after being his primary caretaker for so long that they'd have some sort of positive relationship, but the simple fact was that if this specific individual were to ever be without a dose that he could tear her apart before anyone could manage to dart him.
It was no secret to why he was so heavily secured, only permitted to be studied and handled by senior researchers. One slip of a hand, one unlocked door and hundreds of lives could be lost. She had been trained for escapee protocols before, but how did you contain something that could teleport to begin with, let alone recontain it after its initial escape? Unfortunately for her, the only plan given to the staff should he escape was to try to sedate him, or to sacrifice yourself by running to the back of his enclosure where the monster would hopefully follow. She had not been given information about how he was captured, only assigned him. Instead of adding him to the ever growing list of patients she had already, they reassigned all of her previous studies leaving the Slenderman as her sole priority.
The sound of the metal door to the lab startled her out of her thoughts and left her nearby hand to dart to the chest of the creature and apply pressure as if to stop him from reacting. Eyes bounced between the individual on the table and the vital screen. She watched the steady rhythm of the line jump and let go of her own breath which had left to go stale in her lungs.
"Scared ya didn't I? Don't tell me that thing's got you on edge doctor."
Thomas Metts - was a spirited young fellow who looked rather out of place in the establishment he worked. He was chipper and was the first to offer a beverage or to crack a joke at someone else's expense. In comparison to her tired eyes and slumping form, he stood upright and held the vigor of his early teenage years.
"Honestly" she put down the nail clippers with some force making the metal clatter against her work station.
"If you're going to come into work late the least you can do is do it quietly."
She watched the young man shrug off his coat and relocate it to his designated cubby hole, finding himself a pair of disposable medical gloves and equipping himself with them.
"Relax, he's all drugged up anyways. It's not like he can be startled."
She thought back to the movement moments ago, this wasn't true. He could move, it was just sluggish. A sure sign that whatever work she was doing needed to be brought to a screeching halt and the creature be returned to his quarantine.
"Actually, his meds are wearing off. No thanks to you I wasn't able to get everything done."
The man made a disgruntled face, his features scrunching up as he stuck his tongue out at her childishly.
"My kid kept me up all night screaming, give me some slack. It took every bit of effort to get out of bed."
The woman did not, in fact she had very little sympathy for the man's story especially when it directly interfered with the safety of the situation.
"Yeah yeah, and just so you know. His dental work and skin samplings are all on you to collect." Thomas, less than thrilled about the assignment, opened his mouth to argue but closed it thinking better of it. The man casted his gaze over to the beast on the table, unease finally overtaking his youthful confidence. “So you really think the meds won't last? you think it can..”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “And yes, he will try if we’re careless. Now help me get him back to his containment before he decides to test our reflexes.”
"It's been here this long and no one has gotten basic DNA samples from the thing?"
The man's lack of basic knowledge of his own job irked her to no end. It wasn't lost on her that dear Tommy was a nepo baby. Y/n felt her face curl into a sneer as they rolled the table to the elevator, after swiping his ID card Thomas regretted turning around to meet her gaze.
"No, they haven’t, and I can't imagine why. I'm his leading behaviorist, Honestly! I handle his diet, environment not to mention monitoring his psychological health, anything extra I do for your team is generous. I'm not even supposed to make physical contact with him!” she seethed, her eyes narrowing, brimmed with dislike.
“Technically I just broke protocol by doing the monthly maintenance and screenings that you were too late into work to do yourself!"
The man recoiled, holding his arm in front of his torso and ducking his head down, smiling ever so slightly at the woman's rage.
"Jesus Doc, calm down.”
"What otta happen is that I report your negligence and have you reassigned to a lower class."
Thomas grumbled, a worried glint in his eye that told her that he was actually worried about her reporting him. As he should.
The elevator doors closed with a soft ding, the Slenderman woke to it. His ebony clad hands dangling over the edges. Y/n’s eyes flicked constantly to the vital signs monitor, noting the subtle twitch of his muscles, a faint shift in his chest. The sedation was fading faster than she expected, and every movement from him was a reminder that even semi conscious, he was far from harmless. Thick strings of consciousness broke from his, piercing into the scientist’s thoughts like harpoons. Each thread growing his awareness. They both felt it, like the sting of a migraine just beginning.
Thomas adjusted his gloves nervously, tapping the edge of the table. “So uh, do we just roll him straight in, or?” His voice faltered as the massive form shifted slightly, a whisper of motion that made the hairs on their necks stand on end.
“Straight in. Keep your hands where I can see them,” she snapped. Her voice carried a tight edge, not just from frustration, but from a thinly veiled fear. She had worked with dangerous anomalies before, but there was something about this one that felt different. Predatory, even in sedation.
“Be careful.”
Briefly, Y/n found it exhilarating, the natural reaction her and Thomas had to him. It was instinctual, primal, raw. She couldn't dwell on the rush for long, she was focused on her obligations… but sooner or later the adrenaline would rack her.
The elevator opened to the lower section of the enclosure, the intake. As they reached the containment chamber, Y/n braced herself, hands gripping the table. The metal door loomed ahead, reinforced, humming faintly as it awaited the card swipe. She cast a quick glance at Thomas, who was pale and sweating under his usual bright cheer.
“Card,” she said expectingly,holding her hand out. Thomas fumbled with his ID, the nervous energy radiating off him like heat. Finally, with a soft beep, the doors slid open.
The chamber smelled faintly of antiseptic and old blood. The artificial woodland set inside the enclosure looked innocuous enough, but Y/n knew better. It was the equivalent of a plastic play yard.
Thomas whispered, more to himself than anyone else, “He’s awake.” horrified as the being’s thousand yard stare seemed to focus on him.
“Not fully,” she said, her hands tightening. “But enough. Help me slide him onto the lift platform. Slowly.”
The creature’s tendrils slid from his back, slowly inching across the familiar terrain of his chest and others, more adventurous, rooting at the edges and handles of the table. Still sluggish from the sedation haze, Thomas jumped slightly, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye.
“Heart rate’s creeping up,” Thomas , eyes flicking between the monitor and the body.
“Yeah. I see it.” Y/n didn’t look up. “The sedative’s wearing off faster than expected.”
Thomas hesitated, lowering his voice. “Faster than usual, or faster than it should?”
“Both.”
Thomas and Y/n strained to lift the gurnee into the lift platform. It acted similarly to a morgue bed. It was narrow, the reinforced glass walls rising up like a coffin’s sides. The patient went in, the door locked, and then it pushed open to the other side, into his world.
When they finally clicked the gurney into place, both of them stood for a moment, catching their breath. The sound of the hydraulic locks engaging echoed dully in the room.
Thomas gave a low whistle, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his gloved hand.
"Hah, guess we did it just in time, suppose I should give it a couple of hours to break down the medication before I redose them for those samples, Ay?" A hardy punch met the man's shoulder, followed soon after by the cry of surprise.
"That could have been bad, why are you taking this so lightly, we could have died Thomas, other people could have died"
"But they didn't. We didn't!" the man retorted. "Also, that counts as assault,you know!” still holding his arm, Thomas can't avoid the evil glare his coworker gives him. It makes his gut curl up in anxiety.
"I'll get the samples done. Thanks for covering for me today." The woman grunted, leaving him to stare into the containment cell emptily.
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