I Just Died.

I just died.

Toby, with a flashlight under his chin: They say many years ago a demon cursed these woods.

[A few years ago]

Slender: Fuck these woods.

Bro as a writer myself, I feel called out 😵

This happens daily

𝒜 𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝐸𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 - [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

I already had this posted months ago but I did some editing to make it better. I don’t know if anyone’s been keeping up with it but I apologize for neglecting to update. My main profile is on Quotev and I regularly update on there, however, I keep forgetting to do the same on Tumblr. I will make an effort to from now on, I promise!

      ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

1 — 𝒪𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝑜𝑜𝒹𝓈She lets out an inaudible sigh, her head propped in her hand as she gazes out of the blue-tinted window. Trees and small houses whiz by, blurring together and creating an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun is high in the turquoise sky, its heated summer rays shining down through the puffy clouds and shooting beams of light throughout the atmosphere.

She struggles to imagine the levitating lumps taking the shape of something fun and inspiring because of her general lack of concentration. The car would be completely silent if not for the constant humming of the wheels beneath scraping the asphalt and bringing them closer to their destination. Beside Y\n lays her luggage; a simple duffle bag colored a periwinkle purple and a black backpack, each stuffed with various clothes and necessities she deemed imperative to bring along.

Her headphones are placed diligently over her ears, muffling any noise that may come from outside and blocking it out with music of her choice. She fiddles with the wire, twirling it around absentmindedly as she stares through the thin glass, her mind on nothing in particular and instead wandering aimlessly amidst the endless fog of thoughts and memories. She glances to her side - or rather, ahead of her - landing her gaze on her father as he sits in the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel and concentrating on the stretch of road in front of him.

He has a rather torpid expression painted across his face, she can see as she looks up at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Not too happy about coming back here, she thinks, narrowing her eyes slightly, but why would he be? It's only his parents. Who cares about them? Certainly not him.

She notices her mother sitting in the passenger's side, brown hair tied back into a neat bun and head craned forward, eyes squinted as she focuses on the glowing screen of her phone; her thumb scrolling the small device listlessly, seemingly in search of something interesting, or perhaps she's reading something that has gained her interest.

Then something always seems to have gained her interest. Her e\c eyes move back to their previous position, a faint feeling of indignancy rising within her chest and beginning to bubble to the surface. I doubt she even sleeps, always up all night texting her boyfriend.

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and makes her want to spit the foul taste out, though she only swallows and bites the inside of her cheek, attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something lighthearted, a memory that contains laughter and joy and fondness, however, she finds nothing. She's unable to remember the last time within the last couple of years that she and her family shared a delightful moment. When her father smiled or her mother was veridical.

She comes to the demoralizing realization that her family hasn't acted as a true family since she was twelve years old, only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn't sure the exact minute that it happened, nor does she have a specific reason as to why it happened, all she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until she felt completely alone; abandoned. Forgotten.

She tried to talk to them, get them to open back up, allow their only child back in, and each time, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. She knew that she was never getting anywhere with her parents, so after many failed attempts, she just stopped her fruitless efforts.

As a result, it was only natural for Y\n to do the same. She wasn't getting the attention she desperately yearned for out of them, and the only thing she knew to do was to follow their lead. She cut off connections with most of her friends, refused to socialize unless it was necessary, kept her emotions locked away in a box, and threw away the key. Stepping out of the light that was society and making herself invisible among most people, even herself at times.

At this point, now sixteen years of age, she still cares deeply about what was to become of their lives, though she always drives the feelings of uncertainty to the back of her dimmed mind. If they don't give a crap, why should I?

She blinks, emerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the vehicle she sits in turn sharply, riding onto a dirt road and deeper into the forest that houses the two people she still holds in high regard. A blue and white sign passes by, and she quickly reads the words written in bold across its metal surface. Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Despite the displeasing situation, she feels a splang of excitement erupt through her chest. Yes, she's nearly there. It will be nice to be loved again, treated fairly, and with affection. Unless they've forgotten about her. Impossible. I'm one of two grandchildren, they would never forget about me. Almost eagerly, she raises her head, e\c irises gleaming in the slightly obscured sunlight shining in through the trees, and she gives herself a mental pep talk as if to encourage further what she knows should remain true.

It might be awkward...but I'll be fine. I can do it. What if they don't like me? I'm not exactly their "little hummingbird", anymore... 

She tries to dismiss the thoughts as she observes her surroundings, trying to find an ounce of familiarity anywhere, though she fails to. 

Why don't I remember what the scenery looked like? Was that house there before? Is that tree new? Ugh! I blame Dad for this. If he would've gotten rid of that stick up his butt then I could've been back here long ago! But no. He's so freakin' spiteful he can't just get over a simple argument like a civilized human being. He has to be a jerk about it! Leaving poor Nana and Pops in the dust like that...much like he's doing to me, right now. Oh, the irony. Is it possible to ramble in your head? Because if so, I think I'm doing it right now.

With a barely noticeable shake of her head, she pauses her music and gingerly removes her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f\c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing.

I have so many things to show them! Maybe Nana will let me do a paint job on her wall... I have gotten quite good. She rolls her eyes and lets out a sound similar to a huff. Don't get too ahead of yourself, Y\n. A simple canvas will do just nicely. Besides, she probably has wallpaper...or does she? I don't even remember. There were bright colors, though. Hopefully not too bright... That would be a bit too cheery for my tastes. But whatever. It's their house, I'm only the guest.

A ghost of a smile sweeps across her face when she sees the somewhat familiar, victorian-style cottage come into view, and she feels her heart speed up with elation as they draw nearer. Around the house lies a white picket fence, lined with beautifully planted flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and wrapped themselves around each individual post, leaving a wild, peaceful appearance to it.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door sits an intricate white arch made of thick twine and enlaced with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a gentle shade of cyan, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the sun's bright yellow beams. The window frames are white, their shutters open and allowing one to see the inside of the home, if only slightly, and the transparent pane is rimmed with stained glass roses.

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales leaked out of its pages and sprung to life, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It nearly takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for the vehicle to pull over so she can jump out and greet the people that are probably dearest to her heart, despite the long years it's been since she's laid eyes on them.

I forgot how amazing this place was... She unbuckles her seatbelt, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation. I can just about smell her pineapple casserole, already! Finally, the car comes to a slow, almost hesitant stop a few feet from the gate, under a willow tree. She reaches down hastily toward the door handle, though when she pulls it, she finds that the door doesn't budge.

Only then does she realize it hasn't been unlocked and looks up at the man she calls her father impatiently. She waits a moment, but he makes no move to signify that he's unlocking the car. "Dad," she starts, her voice low and irritated, "open the door, please."

She watches as his hands clench up for a mere second before he releases a small sigh of vexation and presses a button, making the four doors to the vehicle click. Satisfied and vaguely relieved, she pulls on the handle, and the door swings open, the warm summer air immediately greeting her as she steps out onto the vivid green grass. She takes a big whiff of the fresh air, natural scents swirling her nostrils and overwhelming them as she pulls her bags out from the car and slings them over her shoulder.

A sudden whirl of nervousness forms in the pit of her stomach as she steps toward the unfamiliar but yet all too recognizable cottage, questions floating around inside of her brain and making her stop her footsteps. I haven't seen them in years... What if they've changed? What if...they don't like how I've changed?

But her inquiries of doubt soon vanish when she hears a screen door swinging open before an elderly lady steps out, landing her gaze on the h\c girl instantly. Her face contorts into one of pure bliss and exhilaration as a wide smile takes over her aged features, and before Y\n even knows it, she's sprinting toward the arched gateway to meet and reunite with her. All worries she had before either disappear or shove themselves to the back of her mind, leaving her raw excitement to show itself in full form for the first time since she started on this trip.

"Phil, Phil!" the lady all but screams, diving for the gate and waving her hand around frantically. "She's here! Y\n's here!" The girl stands there silently, a smile tugging at her lips when she meets her grandmother's gaze for the first time in what feels like forever. Memories rush back like a large wave, rolling over her consciousness and causing her to remember every detail. As if all she needed was a physical, moving picture of her to jolt her memory and remind her of how much she adores both this woman and this place as a whole.

As she hurries toward her, she gets a clear view of her appearance. She's wearing a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes down to her shins, a white and rose-pink apron that ties around her waist as if she's been cooking. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, brittle hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only give Y\n a clue of how old she has to be getting, now.

A sparkle of joy shines in her e\c eyes as she watches her approach at a surprisingly fast rate, no doubt caused by a rush of adrenaline. "Hi, Nana," she says, her tone warmer than it's been in a long time. She can see her slightly yellowed teeth past her wide grin right before she's enveloped in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around Y\n's frame and pulling her as close as she possibly can.

A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; a peaceful aroma, a mixture between strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm almost instantly, squeezing her grandmother's scrawny torso as much as she deems appropriate so she doesn't somehow injure her. She registers the screen door once again flying open, the creaking of its likely very old and unoiled hinges making a sound similar to a screech before footsteps are heard running across the polished stone.

She mentally prepares herself for another bear hug, this time a lot more crushing and powerful, as she remembers how strong and stout of a man her grandfather is. "Oh! My girl is home!" he yells, right before she feels another pair of limbs wrap around her, nearly making her stumble and fall back just from force alone. A small, blissful chuckle leaves her lips, feeling happiness flood inside of her chest, and though it's a different feeling, she certainly doesn't unwelcome it.

"We've missed you so much!" Nana chirps, finally pulling away after what had to be two solid minutes. Her wrinkled hands grasp her shoulders before moving up to cup her face, gently lifting it to get a better look. A surprised expression forms across her features before it's replaced by a wider - if it's even possible - smile. "Oh, look how much you've grown!" She turns her head toward her husband. "Phil, do you see her?"

"Aye. I sure do," he says with a proud nod of his head. "She's just as beautiful as she was the last time she visited." A small blush dusts itself across her cheeks and she looks to the side, embarrassed. He chuckles. "Just as bashful, too."

"Leave her alone." She turns back to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. "We've missed you so much, sweetie. It's been too long." Y\n only nods timidly, not used to being fawned over as she is at the moment. Behind her, she hears the wheels of the car grinding against the dirt as it pulls out, and she twists her head back just in time to see her parents driving away, leaving her there for what's bound to be at least a couple of weeks.

All without a goodbye. A disgruntled huff leaves her nose and she purses her lips together, her heart starting to feel heavy as she stares in the direction of the dirt road they drove off in. The elderly couple is silent also before Phil clicks his tongue, though, in disappointment or anger, she isn't sure. "Well, how about that. No 'hello' or anything."

"They're not big on hellos," Y\n mutters, feeling her fists clench. "Or goodbyes." Her grandma places a reassuring hand on her arm before grabbing her hand and talking in a sympathetic voice.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm not sure what thorn got stuck in the sole of their shoe, but they need to get it out." She tightens her grip before letting out a sigh. "Anyway, we have to catch up! I haven't seen you since you were a little girl." She looks back at the old woman and allows a more peaceful expression to grace her features. "How old are you now? Fifteen?"

"She looks more grown-up than that," Phil comments and Y\n shrugs lightly, biting her lip.

"Uhm... I'm sixteen. Gonna be seventeen in B\m."

"My word!" Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. "You're practically an adult, already!"

"Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah," he says, and Y\n's eyes light up momentarily as she remembers one of the main reasons she's always cherished this place so much.

"Marshmallow?" she questions, unsure excitement beginning to course through her, once again. "He's still alive?"

"Why, yes, he is," Farrah laughs as if surprised by her inquiry. "Getting on up there, though. I'm a little shocked to know you remember him."

"Of course I remember him," she says, her voice growing louder from exhilaration. "He's my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me..."

"I'm sure he does," Phil says. "He was always followin' you around. Probably cause you spoiled him so much with milk and meat from the pantry." She grins sheepishly and rubs the back of her neck.

"He needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled."

"Very good point." Farrah smiles.

"And yet I can't even have a dog in the house," he grumbles playfully. "You cat lovers don't make any sense."

"We don't have to make sense," Farrah says. "Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such. That's as much 'sense' as you need."

"Sure, sure." He waves her off. "You treat that cat better than you do me."

"Well, you're not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?" She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs.

"I can lay in your lap if that's what you want."

"No, thank you."

"Well, c'mon woman, make up your mind!"

"My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear." She pulls Y\n to her and begins walking toward the cottage that the teenager hasn't stepped foot in for five years, and she follows behind, although somewhat reluctantly. "You must be starving."

"You want me to carry those for you?" Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widening slightly, taken off-guard by the sudden offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

"N-no thanks, Pops. I got it."

"Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy." Her grip automatically tightens on the straps hanging from her shoulder before shrugging, trying to get used to being asked frequent questions and being around people who honestly care about her.

"Um...clothes and stuff," she replies quietly as they step through the arched gateway. They walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble, steadily getting closer to the painted oak door. She glances around, beside her feet, only to see a trail of tulips, consisting of pink, white, red, and violet, planted on either side of the carefully placed rock pathway. It continues to amaze her how her grandparents can manage to keep the garden beautiful while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape.

Good genes, I guess.

"You got any o' those modern technology things that kids use nowadays?"

"I mean...I have a phone. And an MP3 player...and a laptop."

"Oi," he laughs, "I thought you were comin' here to get away from that stuff and spend a few weeks, old-person style." A hint of pink spreads across her cheeks, and suddenly, she feels a little guilty.

"I-I mean, I just brought them to do art and stuff, I wasn't meaning to intrude—"

"Oh, hush, Phil," Farrah scolds her husband, turning to face Y\n with a kind smile. "Calm down, sweetie. You can bring anything and do anything you want here, okay? Don't feel ashamed or unwelcome." Her eyes radiate a kind of warmth and friendliness that Y\n hasn't been shown in a long time, and she slowly nods, allowing a small smile to stretch across her face. "Good. Now, welcome home."

She stands aside and allows the teen to enter the household, e\c eyes widening when she sees the interior. Along the floor lies a hand-made rug, in the shape of a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. To her left is an open entrance to what appears to be a cozy living room, with a pink floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the direction of the front door is an armchair of the same material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and underneath it is an oak plank floor.

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a white table and four chairs slid neatly on each side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are see-through and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight in front of her is a dark oak staircase, which she remembers to lead up and to the bedrooms and the other bathroom in the comfy home. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that twists around the length of the area, excluding the refrigerator, the oven, and the sink.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs that she assumes lead to pots, pans, and other dishes to use for cooking and eating. In the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses and three plates stacked onto one another.

A scent of honeysuckle wafts up into her nose, as well as the familiar pineapple casserole that she only recently realized she missed, mixing together and creating a sense of nostalgia. She almost cries from pure joy right then and there. I really did miss this place...

"Make yourself comfortable, dear," Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new, but familiar, surroundings. "I made pineapple casserole, in case you're hungry. That is still your favorite, right?" Y\n only nods and gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that hit her simply by walking through the door.

Her gaze sweeps over everything in awe as she stops in front of the staircase, glancing back at her grandmother almost shyly and speaking up. "Um...where can I stay?" A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah's eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

"Ah, yes. You remember your aunt Darcy's old room?" She nods, quickly catching onto what she's referring to. "That is where you can sleep, store your things, anything. I mean, your dad's room is available, too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly band posters."

"Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy's room will be fine," she replies, turning and beginning her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The idea of staying in her father's childhood bedroom doesn't sit right in her stomach. "Thank you, Nana."

"Are you sure you don't need any help with your bags?" she questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y\n's ears. "They look awfully heavy."

"No, it's okay, I got 'em," she responds, reaching the top stair and taking a moment to navigate the somewhat narrow space before her. Beneath her shoes is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway, to her immediate right is a small polished, wooden table used to place a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left slightly ajar, revealing a little bit of the interior to her and reminding her that this is indeed where she's going.

She uses her free hand to push it open, eyes lighting up when she steps inside the nostalgic bedroom. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, and the floor is crafted out of ash wood planks and complements the design and hues nicely. On the opposite side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubby hole into the wall and at a straight angle next to a window. Surrounding the bed, built into the wall, are two bookshelves, both on either side and filled with colorful books of varying sizes.

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer, one of which she remembers to be a trundle bed, as it pulls out and creates another area for a second person to sleep in. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with a thin pair of strings. In one of the corners, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside to cushion it. To her right is what she recalls to be a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer clinging to its top. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernible.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A painted oak desk sits pressed against the wall across from her, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp sits atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools, a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a glass paperweight, and a small mirror.

She releases an inaudible sigh, allowing the corners of her lips to twitch upward in a content smile as she walks further inside, dropping her bags onto the bed and giving herself a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation forms within her chest; one she hasn't experienced in a number of years, and she quickly realizes that she enjoys it. She turns her head and gazes through the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun's golden rays shine down through the towering trees.

Her stomach suddenly rumbles and only then does she realize that she hasn't had anything to eat since the beginning of the six-hour trip to her grandparents' house, so she understandably feels hungry. Eager to stuff something down her throat and ease her mild sense of famine, she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, heading down the stairs and, once again being greeted by the pleasant scent of the sweet food dish.

Farrah, who is currently standing in the kitchen, sends Y\n an affectionate smile and motions for her to come in with a wave of her hand. "Hi, dear. Settled in already?" The teenager shakes her head slightly, following the smell and stepping inside.

"Not quite, Nana. I'm hungry, and the thought of eating something this delicious couldn't wait." The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates and handing it to her. She takes it in her hands and sends her a grateful look.

"Well, eat all you want. There are mashed potatoes, rolls, and a turkey on the stove." She points behind her, and Y\n follows her gaze, seeing the white meat sticking out of an old crockpot, the homemade rolls neatly placed on a cooking sheet, and the mashed potatoes scooped into a glass, floral-patterned container. "Just be careful and don't burn yourself. It's still hot." She nearly drools at the sight and nods, hastily making her way over to the food items as her stomach continues speaking to her.

Gripping a large spoon, she dips it into the potatoes and scoops some out and onto her empty plate before leaving the utensil there and moving on to the chicken. She equips a fork and cautiously picks off three or four fair-sized pieces, then grabs a tasty roll of bread, leaving just enough room for her favorite dish. "Geez, Nana," she says, making her way over to the pineapple casserole on the island, "this is a lot of food. If you would've waited, I could have helped you and you wouldn't have had to do it all on your own."

"Honey, don't worry about that. This is something I wanted to do, something special. After all, we haven't seen you in almost six years." As she places a rather large helping of the treat onto her platter, she can't stop the small notion of guilt forming within her chest, though above that lies utter delight.

I can't believe this woman is Dad's mom. "But..." She begins to butter her roll, glancing at Farrah with slightly furrowed eyebrows, "...you didn't have to do all of this for me. I would've been happy with any—"

"Hush, now," she cuts her off, kindness sparkling in her brown eyes as she places a gentle hand upon her granddaughter's shoulder. "Thank you for being humble about it. But I promise I wanted to do this. There isn't a need to fret over it. Just enjoy the meal, please." She feels compelled to hug her, again, though ultimately refrains because she doesn't want to accidentally spill the food that Farrah likely spent hours hard at work in the kitchen to make.

Tears threaten to form in her eyes and she smiles fondly, her grip on the plate tightening. "O-okay... Thank you."

"Now go and eat." She gently pushes her in the direction of the living room, an empathetic expression on her aged face. "What do you want to drink?"

"O-oh, no thanks, Nana, I can get it." Farrah's lips part as if she's about to argue, but Y\n shakes her head and walks over toward the fridge, ultimately silencing her. She opens the door and pulls out a water bottle before lightly shutting it back with her foot and grabbing her plate from off the counter. "Is Pops eating, already?"

"He is." She nods in confirmation. "And he's waiting for both of us to sit with him."

"Well, I wouldn't wanna disappoint him by not showing up." She allows a small, cheeky grin to form across her face before turning around, walking through the living room, and soon arriving at the dining table, where she sees her grandpa silently eating his own share of the food. She takes a seat across from him and lays her plate and bottle of water in front of her, drawing the attention of the man and causing his gaze to shift up to her.

"Hello, young lady," he greets affectionately, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. "Getting settled in okay?"

"Yes, sir," she replies with a slight dip of her head.

"Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you're used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I'm sorry if it doesn't meet your expectations." Her eyes widen almost a comical amount and she looks at him as if he just attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes with her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

"No, Pops, it does. The country's amazing." She brushes a strand of h\c hair behind her ear and swallows the tasty vegetable. "City life isn't that good. Honestly, I'd rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse." A large, satisfied smile reaches his wrinkled features and his eyes crinkle up before he lets out a jolly laugh.

"You hear this, Farrah?" He glances back at the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her husband of many years. "This girl's too pure to be tainted. We should keep her here."

A kind grin stretches her lips though she shakes her head nonetheless. "I don't think her parents would approve of that, Phil."

"My parents wouldn't care," Y\n mumbles in response, noticing the sad looks being thrown her way, and she eats a fork-full of pineapple casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that's fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the plate in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

"I'm sure that's not true, sweetie." Farrah's voice is gentle and reassuring. Y\n only shrugs.

"I mean, they never cared, before. Why would they now?" Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b\c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just stares at her with sympathy.

"That's shameful," he starts, his voice filled with disdain. "They're your parents, N\n."

"I know that, you know that. They know that. But they ignore it all the same."

"When did this start, sweetheart?" the old woman questions, taking a sip of her drink.

"A few years ago. I don't know, really." It's silent for several moments and Y\n starts wishing she wouldn't have even said anything. Way to ruin the mood, genius. Why can't you ever just keep your mouth shut?

"Hun, they're not...abusing you, or anything, right?" The teenager can sense the hesitancy in her words as if she's afraid to hear the answer, and Y\n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

"N-no, Nana, don't worry. Nothing like that." She releases an audible huff of air, likely relieved to hear her answer.

"They still spend time with you, don't they?" Phil asks, leaning forward slightly and facing his granddaughter with concern. She racks her brain for a coherent reply.

"Uh...no, not-not really." She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to mask the hurt in her own but failing. "They hardly even talk to me. They don't even talk to each other anymore. Dad's always too busy and Mom is..." She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously starts tapping her foot against the floor lightly; a nervous habit of hers when she feels her anxiety level rising.

Her mind flashes with images of her mother's phone going off out of nowhere, then her mother's face lighting up whenever she reads whatever message had just been sent. She knows it hasn't ever been her father; he was always there with them when it happened. Her mom hasn't smiled that wide for her husband in a long time. Not to mention those couple of nights she's caught her sneaking out. When she would ask about it, her mother would snap at her and tell her it was for "business" and then leave without a trace, sometimes not even returning until the next day.

Her foot makes a soft thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. "Uh...keeping secrets." Phil and Farah share a glance.

"What kind of secrets, darlin'?" her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand.

"I think, uhm...I think that she's cheating on Dad." She doesn't look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they'll judge her and her parents. "I mean, she's been acting really weird, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I've caught her before but she just got mad and said it was 'business-related'." She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Plus, Mom and Dad haven't gone out on a date in years. And I don't know, it's just...concerning."

"Sweetie," Farah starts, and Y\n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adapted, "that isn't good." She only shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. "We need to talk to them about this."

"No," she interjects, finally meeting Farrah's eyes with frightened e\c ones. "They can't know I told you all of this. They-they'll be mad at me and give me all kinds of crap."

"Are you sure, Y\n?" Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in distaste. "You don't need to be in a house with two people that are so unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us." Although the thought of staying in a house with her loving grandparents sounds nice, she ultimately refuses by shaking her head again and speaking in a quiet voice.

"No, it's okay. Thanks." Despite the fact that her parents don't seem to care about her anymore, she would most definitely ruin what little of a relationship remains between the three of them if they were to find out about what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn't want that. She doesn't want her parents to hate her; that would be a terrible feeling. And she wants to avoid experiencing it.

The rest of the dinner goes by slowly for the girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more light-hearted things in an effort to cheer her up, and it seems to work. They ask her about school, her friends, if she's in a relationship yet, to which she responds with valid answers; "It's good", "I don't have friends", and "No". It was making itself more apparent to them within each question she replies to that she isn't living a normal, healthy life. But they figure it'd be best not to pry too much. After all, she's here for a break, not to be bombarded with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after finishing the tasty food, pushes the chair back into the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling full and tired. Her gaze adverts to one of the windows, able to see the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is beginning to set below the horizon and darkness would soon replace its blaze of light.

"Marshmallow is probably waiting outside if you want to let him in for the night," the elderly woman calls from the dining room as Y\n puts her dishes in the sink and proceeds to rinse them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won't be able to see it.

"Okay, Nana." She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and places them in the plastic drainer resting on the countertop, right beside the sink, before walking perhaps a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and gently swinging it open, being greeted by the warm summer air and the flowers swaying in the soft breeze.

She glances around the small porch and can't help but quirk her lips up in a smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face to clean himself. He looks up at her curiously, and she approaches slowly to avoid scaring him.

"Marshmallow? You remember me?" She sticks her hand out and allows him to sniff her fingers before affectionately rubbing his head. "It's Y\n. I haven't been here in a while."

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he's receiving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her shoulder and she can hear the distinct sound of purring, a sound she hasn't heard in years.

"Aww," she coos, unable to stop herself from coddling the furry creature. "I missed you, too, little buddy." She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door carefully behind her, nearly walking right into Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass of what holds just a few droplets of her drink.

She takes notice of Y\n and grins slightly at the sight. "Ah, see? We told you he'd remember you." The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and bumps her in the arm, making her chuckle.

"Yeah. He's just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly." As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles fondly as she places the plates into the sink. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

"No, thank you, hun." She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. "You just spend some time with the fur baby. Maybe unpack, I know you didn't have time to, before." Y\n feels Marshmallow begin to struggle against her hold, so she bends down and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump to the floor and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl.

"Are you sure? You've done so much work already."

"I can't believe you're the spawn of my son," she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. "It'll be fine, sweetie. I've got it covered. You go and relax." Y\n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won't do her any good to argue with her. Letting out a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles in front of the staircase.

"Okay...but, tell me if you need help?"

"Stop worrying. You're the guest here." Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unaware that she's being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her duffle bag, unzipping it, and taking out clothing piece by clothing piece. As she twists to walk to the closet, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who was in the process of rubbing against her leg, and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat.

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the sudden adrenaline rush that floods her system, but once she does, she scoffs but smirks nonetheless. "Trying to trip me, already?" She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his hind feet as a response. "Silly cat."

She makes as few trips as possible hanging up her clothes in the small walk-in closet and putting things like undergarments and pants inside of the shelf of drawers that stand at the opposite end of the door, realizing that the space doesn't have a lot of her aunt's old clothes inside, anymore.

Nana probably put them in storage or something.

When she's done unpacking, sorting through, and putting everything away, she lifts her now-empty duffle bag and sets it down beside the desk. She decides against taking out the supplies from her backpack, partly because she's getting consistently sleepier, and partly because she feels a little odd getting comfortable here that quickly.

Marshmallow found a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag during the early stages of unpacking and is now sleeping rather soundly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall within each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring the ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she had pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many things have happened since then, causing her to force nice memories into the back of her mind and focus on the grim things in her life.

Sitting on the bed, her gaze trails out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can't help but admire the scenery and feel a trace of disappointment that she hasn't seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and stares up, mixed emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

I sure hope so...

Hey, take as much time as you need! We all understand and will be waiting patiently for your return.

Please take care of yourself! <3

Unfortunately I do have to break the news why I've been so quiet this past week or so.

My grandmother, who I call my Mom, has raised me since I was just a little 16 month old bald tyke. And unfortunately she passed away last Sunday morning from pneumonia. She went into he hospital for something entirely different and then got pneumonia which she was too weak to fight.

Due to this I will be taking a hiatus, maybe with some writing here and there. I'm not sure how I'm coping or what's going to happen these upcoming days or weeks.

I just wanted to let everyone know why I've disappeared after just returning, and I'm so sorry I can't write as much as I want to.

I actually wrote that Bossman when I was in the ER with my mom. So who knows tbh.

"If I ever see a real-life Brony, I swear the only 'magic' they'll be experiencing is how many times I can stab them within a five-second period."

~Jeff the Killer

okk first off i just found your blog and i love your work! ^^

i was wondering if you could do tim/masky with a girlfriend?

Aw, I appreciate that! ^^

Headcanons coming right up~

Tim\Masky with a S\O

Let's just establish something really quick. Tim and Masky are two separate people. They have separate thoughts, separate opinions, and most of all, separate personalities.

Tim is a nervous wreck with anxiety but is, for the most part, polite and pleasant to talk to.

Masky, on the other hand?

This dude will not hesitate to slit your throat if you so much as roll your eyes at him.

It's only natural, considering Masky was created for the sole purpose of being Slenderman's puppet, whereas Tim tried his best to avoid that.

Because of this, they treat you very, very differently.

You want to have a cuddle sesh with Tim?

He's a bit hesitant but, sure! He'll let you sit on his lap and gradually relax as the minutes tick on.

You wanna do the same with Masky?

Bish, he will slap your hand away before you can even say, "Can we cuddle?"

Then stomp off with the declaration, "That stuff is bullshit."

He is not the most lovable guy, lemme just say.

In fact, he's borderline abusive.

Masky sees the idea of "love" as something for wimps and wants no part in it.

That doesn't stop Tim from dating you, though.

He's so happy to have you be a part of his life. After everything that went down between him and Brian, after everything that he did, all of the mistakes he's made, he's convinced himself that he isn't worthy of affection. That he deserves this and couldn't even escape if he tried.

Tim enjoys listening to your voice, and he'll quickly fall asleep to it if given the chance. Especially if you run your fingers through his hair.

On a day that Masky isn't entirely royally pissed off at the world and everyone in it, maybe you can get him to stand beside you without flinching away as if you carry some kind of deadly disease.

At the height of his affection, he might encourage you on something you're doing, or give your back a rough pat.

Don't expect anything more, though.

Tim adores you, Masky lowkey despises you. He views you as incapable and a liability.

Good luck getting that to change.