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arteethst · 17 days ago

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I. “This Empty Home.” Creepypasta/Slendermansion/Slenderverse fanfic.

Let's get this out of the way with a long author note:

Lord forgive me this is so random but I was thinking about what Tim got up to after/post Marble Hornets. Then that led to how he's in the whole Slendermansion that came to be. I'll try to make this as in character as I can, with my own silly headcanons on the side, so it MIGHT get a little fucked up. I just want to write. There will be other slenderverse and creepypastas in here trust like one whole big connected world except emh? They're still technically in the iterations but I'll make it work fr fr.

I wanna try to focus on different characters with each chapter as an introduction and story on their role in the Slendermansion. That's not all though, we'll also do some lore and plot so do not fret! Anyways, I'm genuinely open to any possible ideas/headcanons to slip on there, maybe even NON-PROSHIP romantic ships, as well as kind criticism for writing! I don't expect this to do good but I just wanted to make that stuff clear and I'm doing this for funsies! :3 Reblogs end up being appreciated and bragged over to my friends.

It was a quick stop at the gas station. Doing the whole routine of pumping and paying his gas, picking out coffee and a burger, and stopping in the bathroom. It didn't have much to offer but this crummy burger would do and at least it would take his mind off of what happened. Everything is fine. Is what he could remind himself when his mind wandered far off the road. He didn't know where he could go. He didn't know if anyone was after him for what happened.

Yes, the paranoia got to him enough to shave off his beard in the dingy lit bathroom. The leftover hair piled in the sink along with the droplets of blood from accidentally cutting himself. He rubbed the stubble and felt the cut was still fresh. The blood. The blood was a reminder. Wiping his tears washed away the blood on his fingertips, it felt like a flip switched in his brain and he left the bathroom to head out to his car.

The drive to New Jersey was long and loathsome torture for Tim with the radio, that had the same songs on repeat, and cigarettes accompanying him. He made it to Pennsylvania the next day and early in the afternoon. He rubbed his eyes as he pulled into the rest area, thank the map for that. He needed a nap cause' the coffee was a waste of money, his narrowed eyes spotted a familiar figure in the tree line. It's long limbs and blank face could haunt anyone. His eyes however were far too heavy to fight.

He snapped awake and a sharp gasp led to a coughing fit. He desperately reached into his coat pocket and struggled to open the bottle. Once he popped it open, he poured the rationed medication into his hand to lift up and swallow dryly. He would have to get more soon which meant going into a pharmacy, doing that would be more dreadful than he could handle right now.

He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, the cold leather cooled his head. He glanced up and there laid that damn mask. It was placed on the hood of his car and he cautiously got out. He looked over his shoulder while he snatched it off the car. There was a dried splatter of blood on it and he did his best to clean it off, it felt taunting. There was a strange pull to the mask and something within him condemned him to hover it closer. “No. No!” He cried out and dropped it on the ground.

He began to desperately stomp on it until it was unrecognizable. His eyes darted back to where he saw it in the tree line, there was nothing. He got back into his car and started the drive through the backroads, since traffic and shitty drivers would get him irritated enough to start chain-smoking. He wanted to save his pack for whatever came up and there was always something.

Something came sooner than expected. He was driving down an isolated road and that's when he noticed he had been driving without gas for who knows how long, his car came to a slow stop, enough to pull over. He pulled out his phone to check if he had service, which there was none, and looked up at the right time to see reflective green eyes shining from the ditch. It revealed itself to be a deer slowly climbing up to inspect the car. For Tim it was peaceful and irritating at the same time. The doe didn't have to worry about where to go next like he did because it ran across the road once he slammed his hand against the horn, “Damnit,” he mumbled to himself. This was not what he needed, let alone in the evening on a never-ending road. More deer followed behind the one that ran, it was almost funny to see how many started to cross the road now.

He sat there and watched the forest animals slowly cross the road, a few stopped to stare at Tim. He didn't like that but he figured they probably didn't like him either. He shook his head and stepped out of the car, to his surprise, the deer didn't run. They watched him retrieve behind his car to pop open the trunk, doe eyes and no eyes were on him. The nostalgic sound of television static hummed in his ears but he knew. Yep, he knew.

He straddled his bag on his back and whipped around. Frantically scanning the dark woods on each side of the road and finally spotted it. In the blink of an eye it was gone and now behind the herd of deer. He glared at it with the static getting louder, taking out his suitcase and a flashlight.

He never broke his stare even as he slammed the trunk shut, that sound scared off the remaining deer on the road. Tim stood in the middle of the road and he stood firm on his ground. His hand slid into his jacket and pulled out a pocket knife. He pointed the blade directly at that cheap suit to serve as a warning and a threat. Until he felt the tickle of an incoming coughing fit but that didn't stop him from what he was about to do. He let out a strangled roar and threw the knife forward with the hope to aim at it. He was just about to fall to his knees when the ground below him changed entirely, the scenery around him changed entirely as he found himself and his luggage in the middle of the woods. The cough still came and he fell forward anyways.

A few more pills were popped and the throbbing headache subsided. He picked up his flashlight and stood up on his own two feet again, the static was gone so that meant it was gone for now. A trail lay ahead of him, now he didn't know where he was and that earned a frustrated scream in itself. He thought it was over. He thought he was going to get better and leave Rosswood to leave all of this behind, and now it seems he would never be free. A dam of thoughts, memories, and worries flooded his head. Unknowingly, Tim had been holding in his breath. This was not the time to breakdown and give up now but that didn't stop the mixture of anger and resentment towards it. He wanted to spite it now if it was even possible to spite it so, he trudged along the trail.

Pages that looked just like the ones Alex used to scribble out were scattered along the trail and he picked up each of them. Aside from Marble Hornets and what happened. Alex was still someone he liked and he was a good guy. These pages were the last thing of him, in total he collected eight of them and shoved all of them into his bag. The path took turns before eventually coming straight and onto a dirt road. “Follow the dirt road," he grumbled. The road led into a driveway with a wide open, almost welcoming, gate. Now, Tim wasn't sure if this was private property or not but the condition of the house was questionable.

It looked run down and abandoned with no sign of life or well, he hoped for no signs of life. He came up to the front porch and checked the nearby windows. He hesitantly knocked with zero response coming after so he could take his chances and fumble with the rusted doorknob. The door actually creaked open and he staggered inside, despite the ugly appearance on the outside it was beautifully decorated and neat. There was also a copious amount of dust and spiders that he killed whenever one crawled too close for comfort. He searched the dark halls with his flashlight and opened countless doors for a self-guide tour of the place.

He found a few empty bedrooms that showed no clear signs of anyone actually living there at all. He picked a room and set his belongings in there right on the bed, another bed was across the room. Each of the rooms had two twin beds on each side as if the rooms were meant to be shared, the house made him think this is what a prison felt like. It was eerie and uncomfortable but it would be fine. He turned on a few of the lights and now he had a mental map of the home's layout. He stumbled upon a few interesting things too, the basement was made into a makeshift medical room with everything you could really need in first aid and medicine.

He made his way back upstairs and found the kitchen with nothing in the fridge and nothing in the cabinets. Tim figured he should check outside later too, maybe this house was on the market. It was a new low to do some squatting, his only justifications were his car breaking down and the creature following him all his life. He was going about back to the room he picked when a static buzzed its way into his head, coming in like a fly to lay maggots in his ear. An odd combination of voices saying different words somehow made a coherent sentence that spoke, “You're in my domain. Welcome home.” The voices came from behind him and at the end of the hall, there it was.

“What?” He spun around and immediately stepped back, “Home? This is what you call home?” and the voice gave a clear response, “Yes.” He genuinely could not believe it, unreal and wrong is what it was to him. “You can talk,” He muttered with this new information processing. “In a sense, yes, this is a translation.” It answered like that was a question.

Tim made the impolite move to run away back to the room and it watched. Back in the room, he swiped his belongings and spoke his thoughts aloud, “Hell no I'm not staying here. This is not a home.” He was just about to throw his suitcase out the window when the door swung open and it appeared in the doorway. “You're not leaving,” the voices raised with each word. “I am!” He argued back and tossed his suitcase out the window, throwing a leg over to make his haste.

A fairly large hand slapped the back of his head and yanked his hair back, its wrist snapped like a branch as it dragged him back. His cries and screams went unheard. It looked down at him and tilted its head, it didn't say anything at all but Tim cursed and pulled away. “Stay or you will die.” It hissed, it was threatening him. Tim stumbled towards the bed and rubbed the back of his head, he flinched away when his suitcase manifested next to him on the bed and the window closed.

The final string of different voices uttered to him, “Welcome home, you work for me tomorrow.”