Pure of Mind and Sharp of Knife (Male Reader x Female Creepypasta)

Bloody Paintings

Helen looks between (N/Y) and I as we congregate in her room, "Well then... this is a surprise."

I lean forward in a wooden, paint-splattered chair, "That we're working together?"

(N/Y) sits back in his chair, which creaks as he cushions his head with his hands, "No surprise to me."

"That (N/Y) is willing to sell out his own family," Helen corrects us, "The Bloody Painter has been your friend for how long?"

"Too long," (N/Y) frowns, staring at the ceiling.

I nod to (N/Y), "As you can see, Helen, he's not too pleased about Painter's schemes either. Now, how should we start this?"

"First, we must find an end," she stands up from her bed, finding the journal hidden in her wall, "How will we put a stop to Painter's manipulation?"

"We kill him," (N/Y) grunts.

"Ah, yes, because Slenderman will dismiss the death of one of his most trusted Proxies as you would a carcass at the roadside," Helen sorts through a decorated box of drawing utensils, "Or maybe Angels – who is practically glued to his side – will allow him out of her sight long enough for us to do the deed. Or perhaps you are forgetting Slenderman's inevitable memory-reading following the highly suspicious death of his Proxy!"

After (N/Y) groans in his chair, I interject, "While I agree with you, Helen, I don't think the last part is totally accurate."

"How so?" She finds a pen and closes the box with a clack.

"Who ever said we had to deal the killing blow?" I hint with a grin.

Helen tilts her head forward as if unsure she heard me right, "A Terror... surely not Scarecrow."

"Of course not," I stand up as she takes notes in her journal, "We're not dragging them into this, and the less people who know about this, the better."

(N/Y) looks up at me, "Well, we gotta tell Slenderwoman, don't we? I mean, we're toeing the line here. We're crossing the line, actually. Hell, we're about to jump it!"

"She'll know when she needs to know," I lower my voice before turning to Helen, "I'm thinking we somehow lure Painter to Zalga's territory and feed him to the Dregs or something."

"An unrefined plan, but it is a start," Helen pauses to think, "A Terror would be a more preferable candidate."

(N/Y) clicks his tongue, "The Terrors haven't been leaving the castle too much ever since we dropped those last ones. It's mostly Dregs keeping the border guarded, now."

I sigh, knowing we'll have to get desperate, "Alright... Alright, maybe Scarecrow could help."

Helen holds her hand up to me, "We are getting ahead of ourselves, here. This is assuming we manage to lure Painter to the trap at all. How will we do so? What about Angels?"

"I'll handle Angels," (N/Y) volunteers, "I can scrounge up a reason to keep her in sight."

"Wouldn't she suspect you after Painter's dead and buried?" I question.

He shakes his head, "Nah. We're close, her and I. She was my mentor when I first joined, actually," (N/Y) meets my eyes, "Angels won't be a problem. I promise."

"She'll be broken," I warn him, remembering Angel's horror following Helen's betrayal.

He's silent as he stares at a painting on the wall, "We'll worry about that later."

Helen hums in thought, "Hm... Very well. With Angels out of the picture, we now have to worry about luring Painter to the destination," she stares down at her journal before fanning through its pages, "and I believe I have an idea."