#do I wish it does so that there can be peace
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After MAMA awards I'M VERY PROUD OF MY BOYS and seeing Woozi crying, nooooo my mannnnn
So can I request Woozi or anyone after awards, all members celebrating with their partners hehe LOVE YOUUU!!!
PLEASE PLEASE 🛐🛐
🍑 i will really live the rest of my life repaying you.
you don't see seungcheol until the next day. such is the life of the general leader, it seems— the never-ending heralding, the non-stop worrying. he deals with his boys, first, then the fans, then the staff. but once that's all done, he's at your front door, collapsing into your arms before he's even past through the entryway. it doesn't matter how many awards its been. he is still overwhelmed by it every single time, and you are a soft place to land. he comes home to you and whispers the sweetest nothings in your hair. i'm so proud of them and they did so well and they're so happy. as he holds you tight— like you're the only thing keeping him upright— it's your turn to let him hear those words. i'm so proud of you. you did so well. you get to be happy, too.
the jeonghan on the other end of the video call has been quiet for the most part of the past half-hour. you'd be more worried if you hadn't already predicted where his solemness was coming from. "hannie? still with me?" you prompt gently, and he finally tears his gaze away from the ceiling to look back at you. "yeah. yeah, i'm with you," he answers. a beat. there are some things you no longer have to say out loud. how he wishes he was there. how he misses them and tries not to let it show. instead, you give him a reminder that's quiet and firm. "this is yours, too," you say. this award. this moment. these boys. all still his. there's a ghost of a smile on his face as he mumbles, "right. of course. how could i forget."
joshua likes keeping lists. a running one he has with you is that of gratitude, where the two of you try to end each day with acknowledgements of what you're grateful for. you're expecting a whole essay for him after tonight. he surprises you by keeping it short, sweet, and straight to the point. in no particular order, he types out into your shared note. music, the boys, you. hours later, he adds a footnote like it'd occurred to him as an afterthought: i'm always grateful for those three, but especially so today.
"look at them!" jun shrieks. his video call pixelates, either from spotty connection or his sudden burst of enthusiasm. you have half a mind to warn him that he may get a noise complaint again, but this time it'd be completely warranted. he's positively vibrating with excitement, his eyes glued to the livestream of his twelve brothers ascending the stage for their second award of the night. "look at them," he repeats, and this time his voice is more reverent than anything. you could comply, could do as he's asking, but your eyes are trained elsewhere. and look at you, too, you want to say. look at you and all that you've done to get this far.
even though it's been an exceptionally long day, soonyoung comes home brimming with adrenaline. he does dance routines in your living room. he jogs around your block until you beg him to just come back. he sings in the shower before collapsing onto the bed next to you, where he suddenly becomes boneless. the glow of pride stays even as the exhaustion hits. he pulls you against him and cuddles right into you. to soonyoung, this is as good as any trophy: the peace that comes with falling asleep next to you.
wonwoo has no destination in mind. he has a car with a full tank, and a playlist of all his favorite songs, and you in the passenger seat. that's more than enough. you pass through tunnels with warm lighting; expressways where he keeps the windows down so the wind will whip at your hair. occasionally, you'll stop to grab a snack or take a photo of something interesting on the side of the street. after hours of just going in circles, he'll ask, "should we keep driving?" even though he knows you'd never deny him this. this. his little celebration in the form of getting 'lost' with you.
nobody hears from jihoon for the next couple of days. the managers are worried, but the boys all just shake their heads and say that he's in good hands. which means: he's wherever you are. the two of you don't talk about his speech, about his public breakdown, because both things make him want to hide forever. instead— he sleeps in. he watches movies from months ago that he promised he'd get to. the two of you go on walks at night, and have breakfast at lunch time. the vicious cycle will soon have to begin again. jihoon knows that. but for a few, precious moments, his heart is not a heavy burden because it's safe and sound in your capable hands.
seokmin takes you on the textbook definition of your perfect date. a shopping spree? here's his black card. an amusement park? he'll rent out lotte world for the day, if he must. you're understandably baffled. he's the one who just won big, and yet you're the one being treated like royalty. try to resist and he'll only push back on you. seokmin already spoils you enough as is, but this is just a little more over-the-top than the day-to-day stuff. at the end of it all, his rationale is as sweet as it gets. "you keep me going," he tells you. "and so you deserve just as much credit as i do."
mingyu has always liked to celebrate with a meal. you'd expected his usual fare of some swanky restaurant or high-end café, but, this time, he asks for only free reign of your kitchen. he props his phone up against the salt shaker and pulls up a youtube video before flashing you his best 'just-trust-me' grin. your trust is not misplaced; the two of you do manage to bake the celebratory cake, though whether it's any good is an entirely different story. the end result doesn't matter as much as the process. mingyu is happiest about the flour marks on your cheeks, about the kisses he steals while you whisk eggs. it's not a birthday cake, but you light up a candle for him anyway. just for the hell of it. "make a wish," you tease. he's looking straight at you as he blows at the flame.
minghao asks for a beach day. the two of you set out for the nearest one. maybe the sand is a bit rocky; the shore, lacking in shells. he doesn't care. he only seeks out the sun beating on his back, the saltwater clinging to his skin, the first punch of air after emerging from the water. as the stolen weekend winds to a close, the two of you sit at the point where the water lap at your toes. neither of you have to speak. here, minghao lets the tide wash away the ache of homesickness. here, minghao redefines 'home' as a future with the boys of his youth, with the music that is as constant as the waves— and with you, of course.
the ferry ride to jeju is about four or so hours long, but seungkwan doesn't mind. there's just something so right about getting on the first vessel that will take him back where he has family waiting with a homecooked meal and a play-by-play of the award show. besides, the ferry means having four hours of uninterrupted leisure time with you. the pair of you literally have nowhere else to be except this boat and this point in time, which seungkwan is a little guilty to be so happy about. he's a glutton for your time and attention, and these ferry rides— these trips home— remind him just how much he likes taking the scenic route.
vernon treats it almost like it's just another day. almost. you're thrown off by his initial nonchalance, by the lack of utter fanfare in the way he asks you out to lunch and the two of you barely discuss the recent accolades. when you prompt him about it, you realize it's not because of arrogance or ignorance. "we're just doing what we always do," he says with an expression of mild confusion. winning?, you almost inquire half-jokingly, but that's only part of it. he elaborates, "we were just ourselves, y'know?"
when chan suggests a rage room, you're understandably confused. the wrath-based activity doesn't seem like the most optimal celebration, but you're not about to cramp his style. the two of you queue the angriest songs known to man before smashing some defunct appliances and throwing empty bottles against a wall. once your time is up, chan looks at you with that familiar spark of fire in his eyes. that dedication you fell in love with, that passion that has always burned bright. "again?" he asks, and you know it's not just the rage room that he's asking for.
#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#୨ৎ muse .ᐟ svt#୨ৎ penned by ylangelegy#( sorry if this is a bti of a mess/all over the place/at varying lengths etc. )#( i'm a bit conked out and i'm Very Emotional and i hammerde this out in one sitting. )#( my svt ! i love u ! aaaah . good night )
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Dichotomy of Thought || 11
Past and further chapters here.
Simon and Johnny make up.
|| Chapter warnings: Anal fingering, anal sex, baby-trapping, medication tampering, medication control.
-
Your boyfriend manages your medications, a one-man pharmacy.
Every morning the pills are waiting for you on the table in the foyer beside where you deposit your keys in the evening. There are two of them.
The first is oblong, tan. Your boyfriend hoards and hides the bottle, but you’d fished the information pamphlet that came from the pharmacy out of the trash, and you know everything there is to know about it from that page jam-packed with text. Sertraline, 50mg. Otherwise known as Zoloft. Just swallowing the tasteless pill makes you remember the even darker days than the ones you’re living now, the ones that had led you to that waiting room with your boyfriend in the seat beside you waiting for a doctor to see you. How do I know if I’m depressed, you had asked the doctor, bold as anything even with your boyfriend’s hand on your knee, or if my life just isn’t worth living?
You’d learned. By God, you’d learned.
The other pill is your birth control. Round, sometimes blue, sometimes white, depending on where you are in your cycle. Today it is white and—
It looks—different.
He wouldn’t, you think to yourself, thumb nudging at the pill in your palm, like seeing it from a different angle might jog your memory of it. He wouldn’t do that. A kid is the last thing he wants. He wouldn’t sacrifice his own freedom just to keep you trapped underneath his thumb.
Except—wouldn’t he?
“Hurry it up,” he says, yawning, like you kept him up late last night. “I want to go back to bed.”
You try to take a picture of the pill in your mind before you drop it onto your tongue, taking a swig from your water tumbler, but your brain feels so scrambled that you forget it right away. You can’t even remember the color—had it truly been white, or had it been the pale sky blue of robin’s egg?
It goes down like a lump of chalk. He makes you show him your empty mouth before he’s satisfied that you aren’t cheeking the pills, and then he kisses you and tells you to have a good day at work, honey.
-
“Rooster wants you in his office,” Jackie says under her breath, helping you hurriedly clear one of your tables. You’re slow with the splint on your smallest finger, the throb of pain lancing all the way up your wrist each time you use the damaged hand. Jackie has been an angel in khakis picking up your slack.
You wish that you had one of the pills that they’d given you in the emergency department. It hadn’t taken away all of the pain, but it’d made your head feel light and floaty and like you could care less if all your fingers were broken. Or maybe you wanted one of Johnny’s pills—the ones that put him in a peaceful sleep. You haven’t had such a thing in so long that you can’t remember when, even your moments of relaxation tainted until ‘rest’ is just waiting for the next act of violence.
“What does he want?” you ask.
“Probably to tell you about the raise,” she says. She rolls her eyes and twirls a fingers, mouth set in a grim smile of comradery. “Fifty cents. Writing home about it as we speak. Or maybe he wants to grill you about who keeps stealing from the registers—like we all don’t know it’s Ruth.”
Fifty cents. You can’t even turn up your nose at it. Every penny is one that brings you closer to that apartment across town. With a promise that you’ll return as quickly as you can, you step off the floor (avoiding making eye contact with any customers who would happily sideway you for refills or to complain) and into the back of the house. It’s quiet back here, cooler. Rapping your knuckles against Rooster’s door, you wait.
There’s no response, and no sign of him in the hallway. Some of the line cooks are coming in, filtering toward the break room to start their shift. You feel their eyes on you as you stand impotently outside the door. One of them says something to the other, and there is laughter, too loud and boisterous for the enclosed space. Your heart has begun to pound, sweat breaking out at the nape of your neck.
“Hey,” one of them says to you.
“Hi,” you mutter, forcing a smile, unable to make eye contact.
Still there is no sign of Rooster from either end of the hallway—never would you have considered the short man your savior. Heart racing, you crack the door open and see that the office is empty. You slip inside, shutting the door safely behind you.
The room is as self-important as you might imagine: a desk that seems too large for the space, filing cabinets in the corner. There’s a corkboard pockmarked with holes after years of use, and you drift over to it, too anxious to take a seat in the chair on the other side of Rooster’s desk. A calendar is posted there, Rooster’s neat handwriting here and there.
Something catches your eye: LOCKER CLEANOUT marked for two weeks from now.
It seemed like the last locker cleanout had just happened. You had only collected five hundred dollars back then, but it was far too much to want to explain to Rooster, and you had nowhere else to stash it that was safe. In the end, it had sat in an envelope under the driver’s seat of your car while Rooster took the week and went through each of the lockers to ensure compliance with the restaurant’s rules (all because someone used to have a penchant for leaving snack cakes in their locker leading to a bad case of ants that almost led to the restaurant being shut down). It had been the longest week of your life, like driving around with a live bomb underneath the front seat.
Now you have nearly two thousand dollars. Where the hell were you going to put it?
The door opens. Rooster looks at you suspiciously, eyes flickering between you and the calendar.
“Next time, wait outside,” he says, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. It makes your skin crawl to be alone with him, even if he’s never done anything slimier than asking you to pull a double shift. You know the darkness that lies inside men. All men.
“Sorry,” you mutter.
“Don’t be sorry,” he says, taking his seat in a squeaky rolling chair behind the desk. His smile is a dismal, strained thing, like interacting with you is just as painful for him as it is for you. “Next time, just wait.”
-
Johnny and Simon spend the day in bed.
Johnny’s knee is propped up on a pillow, red and swollen. Simon lets his fingers hover over it, gentle, feeling the warmth of Johnny’s skin. Johnny winces, like even the brush of air against his knee hurts.
“It looks infected,” says Simon.
“It’s not.” It can’t be. Johnny can’t handle that—can’t handle the idea of having to go through the surgery on his knee again, the recovery, the way recovery is just synonymous with pain. No, it isn’t infected. “Just looks like that because he hit it.”
Simon leans down and brushes his mouth against Johnny’s thigh. It’s meant to be sweet but—well. It’s the closest his mouth has been to Johnny’s cock in more than six months, and just the sight of it has Johnny’s heart skipping a beat and picking up again in double-time, his face growing flush. Not privy to Johnny’s thoughts, all Simon does is press a chaste kiss to the skin a few inches above where Johnny’s swelling starts—nevermind what else might be swelling now, too.
The two of them lay entwined together, Simon curling up around him. He plants a hand on Johnny’s clothed chest, right over his heart, like he’s trying to remind himself that Johnny’s here. That Johnny’s alive. The look in his eyes is far away, mouth drawn down into a tight frown. All at once, Johnny’s downright sick of it—sick of them not having anything to smile about. Sick of fighting.
Johnny takes Simon’s hand, laces their fingers, and guides it down. Down over his slim, firm belly, watching from the corner of his eye as Simon’s brows climb up his forehead. Down until their hands cup his half-hard cock. Simon’s hand shifts straight away, fingers curling around the solid length, thumb stroking up the side, the gentle rasp of his calloused fingerpad loud against the cotton of Johnny’s boxers.
“You’re hurt,” Simon reminds him.
“Don’t care.”
“I do.”
“We don’t have to fuck. I just—” he doesn’t know how to explain, how badly he needs to feel something good. How badly he needs to know that his connection with Simon isn’t ruined. How badly he needs to see that they’re still lovers, that Simon isn’t just his live-in caretaker. How badly Johnny needs to feel like a human being—like a grown man. He finishes, a little lamely: “I just need it.”
Simon’s grip goes firm. Johnny’s eyes shut, mouth falling open at the sensation. He hasn’t even touched himself like this in weeks, and while he hadn’t necessarily been keeping track, his cock clearly has been. Simon seems content to go on like this, mapping the shape of Johnny’s cock through his boxers, thumbing over the head until a wet sticky spot appears in the cotton fabric, his hand sometimes drifting down to cradle the warm heft of Johnny’s balls.
Johnny, usually impatient, contents himself with this torture. Let Simon tease him all day, if he’d like, until Johnny is liable to go off at the whisper of a touch. The thought has his cock jerking toward the warmth of Simon’s palm, and Johnny groans when his grip tightens.
“Fucking pretty, aren’t you?” Simon mutters, his eyes on Johnny’s face.
Johnny snorts. He tosses his arm over his eyes, but beneath his arm, he’s grinning. “Shuddup.”
Simon clicks his tongue. “Be good, Johnny. Let me look at you.”
Johnny moves his arm and gives his grin room to breathe. His head feels light and airy as Simon sits up and helps him work his boxers down his thighs just far enough to draw his cock out. The first touch of skin on skin has him hissing a breath in through his teeth. Fuck, it’s good. Just as good as it always was—maybe even better, because he needs it so bad.
“Want you inside me,” Johnny says on a whim, feeling the truth of it in his chest. He doesn’t just want it—he needs it.
Simon leans down and kisses him, just a little too hard to be mistaken as anything but desperate. How long has it been for him, Johnny wonders. He spends every waking moment with Johnny except his perfunctory showers. Does he indulge then, between soaping and rinsing off, holding his breath to hide his sounds while he strips his cock with one slick hand?
It takes some maneuvering to get Johnny on his side, knee nicely cushioned. He can’t reach back and touch Simon, can’t grip his hip and pull him in closer, and it’s just another reason to miss his arm. Because there are a hundred thousand touches Simon deserves that Johnny can’t give him anymore.
They’re lucky for the shelf life of the lube. It warms Simon’s fingers as he works them past Johnny’s rim. He takes his time, hands shaking where they touch him.
“Need it bad, huh?” Johnny wonders.
Simon snorts but doesn’t deny it. Just curls his fingers searching for that tender spot inside Johnny’s ass that makes him grit his teeth. His cock drools onto the bedspread, red and throbbing with his heartbeat. By the time Simon slips inside him, chest to Johnny’s back, Johnny feels liable to go off at a moment’s notice.
For all the time they haven’t fucked, Simon remembers everything: the way to touch Johnny,wrapping a strong arm around his chest to make up for the one Johnny lacks, fingers playing with the whorls of Johnny’s chest hair or teasing one of his nipples; the way to angle his hips to nail Johnny’s prostate.
“Quit,” Johnny groans, shifting until the stimulation isn’t so good, so dead-on. His cock aches, balls heavy and tight. “I don’t want to cum yet. Don’t want this to be over.”
“Can’t miss Johnny; dick’s too big.”
Johnny guffaws. The sound nearly startles him—when was the last time he fucking laughed? With you in the park—but he doesn’t need to be thinking about you now, not you with your small, soft hands and the curve of your mouth…
“Fuck—touch my cock, please touch my cock—“ Johnny whines, body trembling. He’s right there, right fucking there, too close to go back now, fuck it all, he wants to cum. Simon’s strong fingers curl around his cock and strip it firmly, and the pleasure inside him bubbles up and over, left too long to simmer. He nearly headbutts Simon in the face, his body shaking and jerking and cum splatters against his belly and the bedspread and down over Simon’s fingers.
“Just like that—so good, Johnny,” Simon murmurs. His pale hand grips at Johnny’s sharp hipbone, cum smearing against Johnny’s skin. “My turn.”
Afterwards, Simon gently helps him undress and goes to get them both fresh clothes. Johnny’s knee throbs freshly just from his muscles tensing, but he barely feels it. For the first time since his accident, he thinks that maybe things will be okay. He has no arm—but so what? There are many with a lot less. He’s John fucking MacTavish. He can do this.
Simon has gone still at their closet, holding something in his hands. Johnny leans up on his elbows.
“What is it?” he asks. “Did you find my lighter?”
Simon holds up with no preamble a skull-embossed balaclava. It’s worn, the fabric gone gray at its most threadbare spots, but the image imprinted on the front hasn’t faded.
“Blast from the past,” Johnny says, throat uncomfortably tight with an emotion he can’t name. “Thought you threw those out.”
“Thought so too.” He doesn’t look eager to throw this one out though, his fingers tracing over the teeth, like he’s tracing the lipless mouth of a lover.
“You miss it,” Johnny says, the glow of their sex fading rapidly. Of course Simon misses it. The military had been his entire life—until Johnny’s accident. Until Simon had discharged with him, to take care of him. Johnny hadn’t just blown apart his own life by going down in the helo in Kazakhstan, he had blown apart Simon’s life too.
“No,” Simon says simply. “It’s not that.”
Johnny frowns. “What is it, then?”
“The night of the poker party—I was Ghost again. It was the only way I could…compartmentalize. Stomach it. I’d forgotten.”
“Forgotten?”
Simon glances toward him. “Forgotten how useful Ghost could be.” Reaching up, Simon slips the balaclava over his head, adjusting it on instinct until it rests just right against the bridge of his nose. His hair is getting long, little blond strands visible, curling at the ends.
“Now I want to fuck you again,” says Johnny, just to fill the air between them, and because sex used to be such an easy way to fill it.
Simon doesn’t smile.
“Johnny.”
“I was just teasin’—“
“Not that,” Simon says. Even his manner of speaking seems different, words clipped, tone short and no-nonsense. “What if I wanted to go visit our neighbor?”
The question lingers in the silence between them. Johnny swallows, the sound of his throat an audible click in the tense air.
“You,” Johnny wonders, when he can speak again, “or Ghost?”
Beneath the balaclava, Ghost smiles.
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Thank you so so so so so so so SO MUCH for sharing this beautiful piece. I am no artist, so I am not able to appreciate it the way a fellow artist might, but as an overall art enthusiast, I absolutely adore this. It has stirred something within me. The way you draw him as beautiful in a moment so tragic has got me staring for a good five minutes. Of course, as I am sure you are aware, your artstyle is absolutely gorgeous, yes, but what makes this incredible is not only the impressive precision of every detail and the attractiveness of your drawing style – no, it's the *scene* it draws and how it is portrayed.
Of course, as this is a work of art, I am sure there are dozens of ways to interpret and appreciate it, but the entirety of the composition is stunning. The curse afflicted on Capitano's neck, the wisps of it on his face, the scar near his eye that is a reminder to his identity as not only a Khaenriahn survivor, but also a warrior, the dullness of his eyes, the beautiful messiness of his hair, the white background that makes the blood stain seeping through his chest all the more stark, and Dottore? I wonder what he is doing here, that is a very interesting part. Is he here to collect the corpse after Capitano met his doom? He might have a need for it if he wishes to study the curse.
The way you portray this tragic death rings within me so deeply because that was indeed my first thought when he appeared. I still believe he will meet his end as the storyline progresses, and I can see it so vividly now that I saw this. I adore the tragic undertones that wrap around his character from every side, I adore the inherent darkness and sadness that warp him even as his senses of justice and loyalty do not succumb, I adore the cycle of pain he lives through as he feels himself fade, and how his response to that is not near as destructive as what he goes through. I adore how keenly aware he is of his own fate. I adore the loss and desperation he must feel as he becomes something none of his dear ones would recognize.
I adore, most of all, how the mask he uses to shield himself and others from what he has become has been stripped away, laying not too far away from his exposed face, a sign of release from his shackles. I adore how despite the dullness of his eyes, the resignation in his face, he suffers no more. I adore how despite him meeting his end, death finally decided to grant him the peace he has not known for so long.
I adore how you lay him to rest, relieve him from his agony, yet even when I can see the relief in the drawing, it does not make me mourn him any less. Seeing this made me experience a blend of happiness and sadness I cannot describe.
So again, thank you SO SO SO SO SO SO SO much for sharing this artwork with everyone. I might be inspired to write something as a result of it, and I will let you know if I do (and of course I would credit the source of the inspiration :3)!
(Sorry for the rambling, but I just needed to convey my fascination and gratitude XD)
When I first saw him I thought: "His end will be tragic."
#Oh my goodness this has made my day#I love this so much#Capitano#Thank you again for sharing AAAAAHHHHHHH I'm so giddy
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Slenderman x Maid!Reader || Drabble
Plot: After Slender has been, well, himself; and frustrated the hell out of you one-too-many times in a day so you storm out of the mansion for a walk to clear your head. He comes after you asking where the hell his servant is going-
Just in time to find the bear staring you right in the face.
//
Or, everyone is annoyed. Including the bear.
(Inspired by videos of animals CLEARLY SEEING something demonic that we cant see.)
Same universe as This fic and This fic.
Warnings: A little bit of Slender being an ass, high-stress situation, Slender being unhelpful and then scaring/hurting a bear (Just making the static noise so the bears ears hurt), mind reading, Slender in a dissociative hunting state, etc.
Tagging: @microwavemadness , @miss-understood , and @yesthetrashbin .
NO BEARS WERE HURT IN THE MAKING OF THIS FIC. WE DO NOT SUPPORT HURTING BEARS HERE.
You storm out of the there as fast your legs will take you without actually running, slamming the door as hard as you can behind you. Maybe he owns you, maybe he's your 'boss', maybe you have to do what he says for the rest of your life- but if you leave without asking, then the bastard cant tell you no.
After walking at the same powerful pace fueled by the raging frustration roaring inside you for a good 7 seconds, just breeching the wall of trees that surround the clearing that the spooky old mansion exists in, you freeze in your tracks violently fast; eyes wide as dinner plates and suddenly wishing you'd stayed inside and put up with your ass of a master.
Because there's a bear. A fucking bear. Its the size of 3 men, its staring right at you, you're stuck staring directly into the terrifying creature's black eyes (The worst thing you could possibly do in this situation), and it looks i r r i t a t e d.
You must have startled it when you stormed into the tree line.
S h i t.
~
When Slender looks for you after you left his office a few moments later, searching for your very annoyed little form (So much anger for one so small) in his mansion, blinking from one room to another until he's checked everywhere- he cant find you. And that ignites a flicker of frustration in himself. Where the hell have you gone, now?? He needs his servant. He loves his peace and quiet, absolutely, but annoying you is a favourite pass time. You're almost as high-strung as he is, after all. And with everyone else gone from this place currently (His brothers, the pasta's, his other proxies), he has all the time in the world to enjoy the quiet. For now he's bored, and he wants to speak to you about your lacklustre method of organising the linen cabinet; just make your life a little hard.
So where the fuck, did you go?
Static fizzing in the air around him, he turns his search onto the woods. He appears right at the edge of the tree line, and immediately finds you in your predicament.
"... ah." Well thats not an ideal circumstance for little Y/N, is it?
As soon as you sense his presence a few feet behind you and hear his voice, you feel all your fear boil over and you want to run behind him. But you don't- you stay still. Slowly, you take a deep breath. You speak while moving your mouth as little as possible, especially when the bear grunts and roars. It seems to hate your voice, but is unbothered by Slender's. Like he's not even there. "... Slender, help me."
Slender does intend to help, truly. He cant be losing his servant. He will not allow a thing, to happen to you. ... But that doesn't mean he cant use this. A glimmer of amusement tickles at the old eldritch monsters cold, ancient heart at the terrible situation.
He was only looking to mess with you a bit, before... but this infinitely better.
"Why should I? You stormed out like a child- this simply appears to be karma, to me."
Oh for FUCKS SAKE- You want to whip around and glare at him, or kick everything on the forest floor at him, but moving might mean getting mauled by a bear right now so you're forced to stay still.
"... please, Slender." You grit your teeth together. Even when the bear grunts again, and stomps a paw down into the dirt. "I'm sorry."
Slender takes the tone of a teacher, as if this is some mental 'teaching moment'. Pretending to be sensible even though he's LITERALLY crazy- He drives you nuts. "Now, that doesn't sound very sincere Y/N. You can do better the that." Stupid, evil, obnoxious, insane creature- "Thats definitely not going to do it."
"I shouldn't- " When the bear lands both front paws down on the ground, prepared to lunge at you and take bite right out of your neck you flinch. Start again. "I shouldn't have y- yelled at you... left the mansion... I'm sorry. Okay???" The bear must hear the panic in your tone, or maybe smells the fear all around you, because it gives a few huffs, and paws dangerously at the ground. Bares its teeth at you.
"Hmm... you know Y/N, I think the bear can tell you're afraid of her. What do you think?"
Suddenly the bear jumps up onto its hind legs, roars and slams back down on the ground, coming forward towards your soft, weak little body, and you squeeze your eyes closed against the terror. "Slender please!- "
When you aren't torn apart by claws or teeth for a few moments, and the roar turns abruptly into a whimper and then heavy breathing- you force yourself to crack an eye open just in time to see the bear backing off again; retreating. You look up with both eyes open to see Slender, grossly tall and with his tentacles floating in the air threateningly around you both, directly behind you now- hanging over you, and although your ears and your head are clogged up with horrible grilling static, you've never been so glad to have him with you; The very visage of a creepy marionette doll or otherwise. Lowering your gaze back to the bear, which looks terrified all of a sudden at the creature behind you and rubbing its poor ears at the sound- you immediately feel awful.
"Slender." You say, cautioning. "Slender, stop."
He doesn't respond, focus trained entirely on the bear.
"Slender."
With a thud of your heart dropping in your chest, you realise this must be what he looks like when he's not at home, seeming almost human with a supernatural ability to annoy you; when he's hunting. And immediately your stomach turns over.
Turning around in place, you grip his old worn suit and tug at it. "Slender!! Stop now! You're finished, the bear will leave!" You make your voice as hard and bossy as you can muster it, trying to cut through whatever horrible old monster instincts are over-riding Slender's personality right now.
When you finally get through to him, yanking his jacket so ferociously that you actually budge him (Not by much; but enough to get his attention), the static cuts off like a switch. He lowers his faceless head to see you down below him, and it takes a little staring, but he comes back to himself. He rolls his shoulders, and you release a relieved breath.
"... you don't want me to kill the bear?" He asks, softly. Almost disbelieving. As if he didn't know that about you; like he was someone else for a minute there.
"No!"
.... With a tone just like an eyeroll, back to himself, Slender straightens up again. You let go of him. "Of course not."
Slender gives the bear a final Look, and the bear turns tail and retreats fully into the trees. You cant see her only hear her- then you cant hear her anymore, either. Gone.
After a few moments Slender turns his head to you again. "... So. Are we going back inside or are we going to stand out here like lemmings for the rest of the day?"
With that he turns immediately, disappears, and then reappears on the porch by the front door; waiting for you. Pretending like none of what just happened actually happened even though you're still in shock and confused. What the hell was that?? Did he just fly into a dissociative state? Are his instincts to protect you???
... is that because you're his proxy, or because you've been having sex? That might be the most important question. What does this mea-
"-What are you waiting for? I have some notes on your ability to put linen away appropriately. Come."
You squint at him; stare into that blank white face waiting for you. Is he listening to you think and distracting you or is he really just that indifferent??
... you cant tell. No surprise.
"I'm coming," You sigh, trudging back towards the mansion. You can think more about this later, maybe. Maybe not. You probably should, but... "but I don't want your notes- "
"Oh you're getting them. Now, about your folding technique- "
But that would mean facing which you want it to mean.
#Slenderman x Reader Drabble#Slenderman x Reader#Slenderman#Drabble#Creepypasta#Slender Bros#Slender Brothers
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but who told them all my distorted thoughts lmao
#miraculous ladybug#marigami#ladynoir#kagami#perfection#neurodivergent#autism#adhd#audhd#unmasking#mlb#mlb s5#mlb caps#mlb capspam#and not ladybug trying to be a CBT therapist or something lol#i think DBT might help you more kagami chan#i know distorted thoughts is a CBT term but i'm just starting to explore DBT#what's their term automatic negative thoughts or something? that does make more sense#i don't wish anyone would disappear i just always isolate myself#and used to feel sad about it but now it feels kind of peaceful#i still have my family though so that helps#but i've accepted i don't have the energy to be social right now i only have enough capacity for work and family#and maybe someday i can try to (re)build friendships again idk#just like kagami i don't know how to be : (#i do also hate being perceived and wish i could be a hermit sometimes lol#i used to be so certain about what the “perfect” i wanted to strive for was and had so many rules for myself in order to appear acceptable#but now that i know i was being excessively literal and perfect doesn't exist - i don't know what's acceptable or safe or “normal” enough#i feel like i'm in a cocoon or something trying to figure out who i am#but i'm so different from how i was when i was trying to be perfect idk if anyone will like or accept this version of me#i'm also so shell shocked from life the past few years everything is hard lol
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doing figure drawing studies because i know thats what i should be doing right now but also ive been in a very insane deranged state for the past 2 months that leaves me like this whenever i look at a man for too long
#talkys#im gonna say some more stuff here which is i dont think its ever going to happen for me which is like#it should be fine right...i dont think im even meant to be in a relationship it sounds exhausting and like another#constant neverending performance...#but its like that one post...''im happy by myself but also where's the love of my life''#ykwim...i wish i could at least make an informed decision#but that would also be tragic as it'd require me to go thru more heartbreak so i could know for certain#is it better to do it or not do it at all...#anyway ive also been having a hard time putting this into words#but. i like my alone time! i can live with myself. + nothing will ever beat the peace and romance in my brain#but. it also feels so weird to think this way. in the sense of like. yeah. you're only thinking this way because you Have To.#because that's your reality. other ppl don't have to think this way because they are capable of finding love.#other people dont have to reaffirm themself of this in the wake of not ever being desired and valued....#does that make sense...? it feels really weird.#like of course u have to like being alone and spending time with yourself. you have no other choice lol. you lost.#and also... idk. idealized romances in my brain better than anything maybe i would like to be held just once by another living human being.#🌺
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🙂↕️🙂↕️okay okay okay so so far within the og divisions we have:
❤️: they strive for a world where words solve conflict. they pointedly did not use mics to express this. at the end of the track, they’re dynamic as brothers has shifted to a more equal dynamic, where ichiro doesn’t feel so compelled to raise them
💙: they strive for a world without violence and used their mics to resolve the conflict. at the end of the track, they reject their status quo and aim to find a new one to change the world without the use of violence
💛: wanted to be real with each other and used their mics to get that across. at the end of the track tho, they say that truth doesn’t really matter anyway and stay true to the selves they formed their bond with
🩶: a battle of wills using the mics. jakurai’s love for yotsutsuji manifested in the form of sacrificing himself and dohifu trying to stop him using their love for their bond as mtr. at the end of the track it’s that love that’s saved jakurai, healed hifumi and elevated doppo’s status at work
and things have changed for all they’ve stayed the same so i’m genuinely curious where nagosaka fits in this lol
#vee queued to fill the void#as i’m typing this i haven’t really processed the scope of mtr’s story lmao#like it may be bc i’m still a matenhoe forever and always but holy shit their love literally changed their lives#and seeing those threads come to a head like that literally made me want to projectile vomit LOL CAN NEVER FEEL NORMAL ABOUT AN MTR DT EVER#i want to draw!!!!!! the scene where sensei as calm and as at peace as he’s ever been!!!!!!!!#tell dohifu they may think him using the true hypnosis mic to save yotsutsuji is stupidity but to him!!!!!!#it’s literally the most important thing!!!!!!!! god!!!!!!!!! it’s the utter peace in his voice that literally kills me listening it!!!!!#doppo: with all due respect this boils down to your ego#sensei: my ego? well that certainly may be the case. it is i who will be saved by doing this#me: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHHHGG#*sniffs* god hypmic has been insane for these tracks on god pls tell me i’m not the only one who sees how insane hypmic rn#and like??????????? wtf can dh and bat deal with??????? i wish i was big brained to see where nagosaka has been going towards lol#dh has to be setting the tone tho since lowkey???? tdd are paralleling with their 1st drb match ups lol bbmtc want basically the same thing#and fpmtr reaffirmed their bonds and identities in theirs#and like ‘the trio’ makes me think rosasa are finally going to punch rei in the face for ditching them lol#but it might be time for dh to enter in the plot frfr trying to get rei from doing stuff on his own#so does bat parallel that??? trying to stop kuukou from doing things on his own???? something else?????#bc hitoya is deadass the only who has interacted with the plot in any way lmao (kuukou too as a victim of the true hypnosis mic)#this is me processing things out loud gomen thanks for attending the ted tag vomit lmao
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you know ive never had robin s support a spotpass character. maybe i’ll marry gangrel
#ann plays awakening#can i be so honest u guys i actually really love gangrel#hes a fav#idk how i’d rank fire emblem villains but hes def up there for me#like hes fucked up and terrible but also like#idk maybe i like them a little crazy 😋#but also i think while he is at fault for a lot of the first act of awakening#his rage at ylisse isnt entirely unjustified. like its not emmeryns fault at all and its a shame he was too clouded by anger to see that#she genuinely wanted peace and friendship between plegia and ylisse#but you know after what the last exalt of ylisse did to plegia#like i get it and i kinda wish they dove more into that#which i was told they do in project thabes which i need to get back on#but in the vanilla game its something i wish was talked about more#though i havent read gangrels supports (‘supports’ he gets like. two. and theyre both robin.) in a while#but ik in like. fucking feh they go over the fact he was an orphan in poverty that rose to power (? i think) like hello????#lets see more of that. tell me more!!#why does intsys keep so much awakening lore under lock and key#theyll give it to us in any game thats NOT awakening. why tf did we have grima lore in ECHOES#anyways. i think gangrels pretty cool
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One better (Patreon)
#Doodles#SCII#Damned#ZEX#Blood#I knew going into this and it was still so distressing :'0#Who needs plot twists when you can create such an intense sense of Dread#Probably doesn't help that I read this At Night In the Dark lol - actual shivers#Gods this was a hard scene to read - there have been several instances of my face hurting from furrowing my brow so hard haha#The way that ''Doctor'' is written is So skillful - I'm so impressed by everyone's prose and quirks and syntax!#Not to mention when he breaks character in a later scene to apologize for taking a bit to move the scene along haha <3 Play!!#It really does speak to just how much skill and effort is put into everything <3 It's so well done all the way around!!#Anyway to the actual scene at hand lol ow :') Drawing blood is always fun but I wish it wasn't his ;u;#Ugh the way he takes the surgeries is so well written - fear of course but a kind of stoic suffering as much as he's able to -#Until it comes to his eye#Ugh the /break/ of it all he goes from so eloquent - almost snarky and silly! Still trying to find an out make peace do /something/#It all goes completely out the window he's so /reduced/ and nothing hurts worse than that ughughugh#For all his intelligence and wit and prior successes and charm and just - everything that makes him /him/ to be dissolved into abject fear#It's so sad ;; And so well done <3#And he still holds enough of himself to know what he'd be losing wegh it's so sad!! He's so defined by his vision as most VUX are it's fjdsl#Zelnick is already gone by this point but I wanted to throw him in for extra sad flavour :')#Plus - I've mentioned his post-Op was one of the ones from the gallery that Actively kills me every time I look at it#Can you imagine my heartbreak to find out that he didn't have his Captain to comfort him after this in actuality? That he was fully alone?#''Are we home? Is it over?'' ''N...not yet'' - The Absolute Devastation of realizing that Never Was not really#Just tear my heart out why don't you ugh I'm fully bleeding out 💔#That last one is actually meant to be Max but it's open to interpretation :)#I think it's such a waste that his eye was just disposed of! Someone else could've used that (lol)#I do think there's something to the idea of seeing what used to be a part of your body elsewhere - like the Leftovers!#Even just keeping as a memento tho - a trophy - insult to injury but literally#Just points to no one being special and nothing being sacred I suppose
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The thing about being a bitch and a hater is that you need to be charismatic about it for people to still like you somehow. And most importantly you need to be a poor little meow meow people will want to help see win.
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69.8% are not happy people dis on Bruce in the Batfam tag. This is my official petition that y’all use a different tag. Poll bellow
Here are my suggestions for y’all to use instead
What does this hope to accomplish?
Less arguing. People who love Batman won’t see the hate in BATfam tag.
And people who don’t like him can post in peace without Bruce stans going after you. This is a mutual benefits thing
I’m partial to y’all having Gothfam or DiFam. Especially DiFam as I can see why people would rather Dick lead the family. Or NightFam if you want his vigilante name. Or y’all can come up with one.
Also to address the person who said the Bat can stand for those who have been Batman before. But no. Dick was a Batman. He played the role. He ISNT Batman. That’s also taking away Dicks identify as Batman’s whole association is with Bruce not Dick. Batman is Bruce Wayne (not counting future) it’s a expression of his trauma. Don’t make it Dicks
#batman#batfam#bruce wayne#damian wayne#robin#tim drake#jason todd#nightwing#red hood#red robin#Do I think this will actually work? no#do I wish it does so that there can be peace? yes#half my feed today was anti Bruce. it raises my blood pressure
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I'm probably far from the first person to say this, but you can't tell me that this song doesn't just scream Aventurine, c'mon.
#like. i don't even need to explain it do i. the lyrics are Right There they speak for themselves#aventurine#hsr aventurine#honkai star rail#hsr#Seven.txt#music stuff#panic! at the disco#p!atd#another song + character commentary post wow mayhaps i'll start making more of these but i fear people and their Opinions#but whatever. if i don't distract myself with a silly little tumblr post im gonna have a meltdown so. here. character commentary be upon ye#anyways listening to this and thinking of Aven gives me chills every single time i can't help it#as usual if u disagree feel free to keep that shit to yourself this is just my opinion let me have it in peace#Spotify#'oh but it's too Positive! he's actually miserable inside! he wouldn't embody this song that's just the mask he puts up!!!'#yeah ur right. and who said i wasn't talking about the mask#i'm not saying that this song embodies his truest self necessarily. but i think it does suit Some aspect of him#maybe the side that's trying to keep going. the side that picks him up off the floor and pushes himself out into the world day after day#forcing himself to find whatever scraps of hope he can hold onto. the song doesn't say '*Had* to have high hopes' for no reason#i dunno i'm just spitballin here. there's plenty of ways you can see Aven in this song. if u Want to#if you've never peeled urself off the bathroom floor and washed tears off your face while playing the most upbeat song you can find-#-to try and summon the motivation to keep going in spite of how u just spent 20mins wishing for it all to be over. well#well then u just can't understand my vision here
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my sister called me and kept asking excitedly that what's happening in my life and
#like life as in. i can't say love life but like you know what's happening with the guys and the girls#girl#and i was so tired#am so tired#i just made up an excuse that im too physically tired too talk to cut the call and told her id call her back but i won't#i want to okay i really do I want to hear about her life what's going on but she's not that type of person jinke saamne#i can just divert the topic from myself avoid talking about me she's determined and caring like that😭#just. kya batau main#i spent the whole day working but really if i stopped doing anything for like 2 minutes all the last convos i had with everyone i#liked loved whatever started replaying in my head constantly making me feel all down and sad in public yk that empty heaviness inside chest#i mean. what is there to say. i feel truly pathetic#everyone just keeps leaving me. they decide one day that oh nope she's not for me not interesting anymore doesn't understand is too much#draining and destroys my peace and then they leave#it doesn't even matter the weight of the relationship#whether it's been a year of being in love or two weeks of talking till 5 am or a week of wishing me good morning and good night#every day. it doesn't matter they leave and they leave and they leave and they don't look back and im left to pick up the pieces go on#pretend to be okay and normal and fucking focused on like. studying accounts as if my heart isn't breaking#into a million tiny pieces everytime#i don't know how to tell her. the sister you love so much the sister you can't live without imagine life without. the#sister who you thought about holding on for because you couldn't do that to her leave her alone when you had suicidal thoughts. she's#she's actually deeply unlovable undateable unfuckable and like truly lonely and easy to let go of#i know she loves me and i know my bestfriend loves me and she would fall apart if i wasn't there for her#but it's not enough. i really wish it was. but it's okay it's enough for now it's enough to keep me going it's enough to make me not wanna#die yk? like i don't love myself enough to live for myself get better for myself but they need me so i need to be okay be happy because i#need them to be happy. and they're happy when im happy#does that make sense#okay bye i should really start writing a diary
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Also I can’t figure out if my life genuinely does suck or I’m just having an existential crisis because my period starts in approximately 48 hours
#it does make me worse ngl. i wish i could just yeet my uterus#i was just starting to think about how all my days are the same and it’s boring and i’m boring#and i never see anybody or meet new people or make new friends#working from home is all well and good until it makes you want to [redacted]#and you all can say ‘just leave your house!’ as much as you want but living in a small town and having no car is not really conducive#to getting myself out there#i mean my town literally has about a dozen businesses and half of them are sad pubs. the others are like hair salon; co-op; church; butcher#2 takeaways. and yeah there’s parks but all of them are kind of dire#maybe i could start getting the bus places. going somewhere else. idk#i have been thinking about taking a trip but wherever i go i still take myself and it’s like i’m in this state of permanent malaise#too nervous to talk to anyone and too impatient to linger anywhere or enjoy anything#everything i do i rush through so i can do something else#and i think amongst it all i’m just reckoning with the fact that i’m never going to be remarkable. i mean neither is anyone else really#but i always thought i’d write a novel or become a college professor or something but i’m not smart enough and i don’t have enough words#or ideas in me. not really. i’m not a creative i’m just an imitator. always have been#and i could live with being unremarkable because we all are in the cosmic universe but i still don’t think i can live with rotting#in my hometown. but then it’s like how do i get out?#i signed up for an online course just to vary things a bit. just to get some enrichment in my enclosure#it’s this slow realisation that i thought i Wanted to work at home. i thought i liked the peace of it. just me and the computer screen#but no i like to work outside and then come back to my home as my sanctuary. i have to leave it sometimes to really appreciate it#but no one wants to hire me for an intellectual job because i’m not actually that smart. and my body is too broken to work in hospitality#anymore. or is it. i mean for god’s sake i can run three times a week but i don’t trust myself to be able to stand for hours#i’m thinking about throwing myself on the mercy of my old boss like hey. i fucked up. do you have any shifts for me? i’ll do weekends#i just don’t want to lose my fucking mind#maybe i’ll text her tomorrow. the worst thing she can say is no#personal
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friends i am experiencing the consequences of my actions (did activities and now i feel real bad)
BUT we stay silly
#okay. i will go make dinner right now. do regular clearing up so i feel fine when i reenter the world of my house tomorrow. i can have#a regular style evening that does not make things Worse. peace and love#mandatory BUT we stay silly Or Else.#wish i wasn't sick. but i am so just gotta make the best of it!!!!!! very beautiful very powerful!!!!!!!!!!!
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appreciation for winston's watch wednesday. all the little buttons on it
#very peaceful screenshot. his coffee with whatever matching mugs moment he & rian were sharing....this gentle hands folding/cupping....#reminds me i mean to trim my nails soon. he's ready to go#epic win Featuring his watch for a sec in 6x01 during his reintro....reminder: winston; reminder: how ppl are exceptionally shit to him....#in terms of him getting to be the exception to other ppl's rules (in a way that does not benefit him)#(except when he is an ignored exception....when something is ignored it can (sometimes) do what it likes....)#anyways? his watch? thank god#and that it seems to have been yet another subtle costuming tweak along the journey....#he had what looked like just some smart watch in s4; this calculator / digital watch in s5 & ever since....#this evolution from looser slacks to somewhat more fitted cargo pants; from seemingly usual boat shoes to sneakers#from graphic tees as a rarer feature to the norm; no stache to winstache just b/c will roland happened to show up like that....#i enjoy all the changes and am kissing ppl on the mouth for some. hell for any of them#would love a little twenty dollar wristwatch. and cargo pants. and more open & up to date glasses & impeccable hair etc etc etc#(personally wouldn't have the wherewithal to style hair into place every day so actually god i wish i [cue taylor w/their clippers])#winston billions#also gotta shoutout every little Choice. just a fun enhancement & what are the odds william wasn't just left to his own devices w/them all#like the hands cupping here. winston sitting Comfortably. winston holding his coffee cup like that in that one ep.#winston out of focus in the bg of another ep standing watching stuff w/his arms overhead / hands up & then behind his back.#hands in his pockets. the :\ the :/. the wincestons. His Autistic Swag god bless us i'm sooo
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