CW: References to narcotics, dark humor, fanon dynamics
The Slendermansion is more of a fucked up dormitory than it is a “home”. A deeply dysfunctional, semi- voluntary co- op dormitory, crossed with a halfway house for the criminally insane and the supernaturally cursed. Everyone is so fucked up in their own special way that tolerance becomes less a virtue and more a survival mechanism. Existing as a tear in the fabric of reality, lies a sprawling, near impossible Victorian manor, half swallowed by the endless forest that surrounds it ever constantly. From the outside it looks condemned- black paint peeling in long, curling strips, windows cracked and boarded, roof hidden under moss and porch columns rugged as if the whole structure is slowly coming down. The front door hangs slightly ajar most days, creaking on rusted hinges with whatever direction the wind chooses. Smaller buildings are scattered about, reserved but otherwise functional like storage, armory’s, or rest areas.
Inside, the layout contradicts almost immediately. Hallways stretch longer than they should and rooms are packed in areas that aren’t visible from the exterior. Staircases gain or lose steps between landings, doors that led to the kitchen yesterday now to a disused bedroom or a corridor that dead- ends today. The mansion rearranges itself at random, but those that belong can find their way around it instinctively. Intruders rarely make it past the first treeline without getting caught.
The smells are layered and often varying between damp wood, mildew, cigarette smoke or the copper of drying blood, faint chemical bleach from hasty cleanups, the sour-sweet rot of whatever EJ is keeping in the basement fridge, and the faint tinges of dingy old furniture. Candles/wax warmers help lighten the smell in populated areas but the natural rot doesn’t leave.
Daily Life:
No strict schedule exists, but patterns emerge from necessity and Slenderman’s occasional psychic nudges.
Morning (8 am- 2 pm). This is when the residents start crawling out of their caves. The kitchen is the first neutral ground. Masky is usually the first one up, silently making a giant pot of black sludge and leaving it on the burner for whoever stumbles in next. Mismatched mugs usually cracked, stolen from gas stations and claimed by whoever reaches them first. No one speaks much- a grunt of “thanks” if someone passes the sugar. A middle finger when someone takes the last clean spoon.
Midday (2 pm- 8 pm). Chores are assigned by whoever’s in the worst mood that day(typically Masky). Tasks rotate on an unspoken wheel of resentment- mopping blood from the foyer tiles(again). Hauling bodies to the burn pit or the acid barrels in the back clearing. Checking the forest perimeter for intruders, rival entities, humans who wandered too far off trail. Laundry in the basement washer that shakes like it’s possessed from the huge load someone’s half hazardly shoved in(the tower of dirty jeans and bloody hoodies is never ending). Grocery runs with cash only, no receipts, usually Masky or Hoodie driving the beat- up pickup truck. Meals revolve around frozen foods and fruits/vegetables that are eaten quick or rot within days.
Training happens in the basement, a cold concrete room with beaten up punching bags, stolen equipment, weapon racks, and a worrying number of knives embedded in the far wall like trophies. Sparring is brutal but consensual, usually for proxies working on technique or independents blowing off steam. Anything goes so long it won’t interfere with the Operator.
Evening (8 pm- 2 am). Dinner is a negotiation between apathy and hunger, hence labeled the “chaos window”. On short occasion, usually during the winter months, someone throws together a giant pot of chili/stew in the main kitchen. Other days it’s week old takeout with towers of pizza boxes, wingstop bags leaking grease, and chinese food containers with chopsticks stabbed through the lids like anyone’s still gonna eat it days later.
EJ’s “special food” being kept in a padlocked mini- fridge in the basement labeled “EJ ONLY” in Sharpie. Everyone already knows what it is, they don’t bother.
Late Night (2 am 6 am). Peak activity for independents as the hunting/quiet hours. Jeff, Nina, sometimes Toby slip out to hunt or lurk in the night. Proxies run errands or missions/patrols. The mansion goes quiet save for the occasional insane laughter, argument, or thuds of someone practicing knife throws against the wall.
Tolerance. Everyone is broken in their own way, so personal beefs are tolerated so long as they don’t escalate to lethalality. You can hate someone’s guts and still pass them the salt. You can call them a “twitchy fuck” just to share a cigarette five minutes later. Pasta’s share cigarettes, lighters, snacks, and inside jokes over hugs and smiles. That affection is rare and usually hidden.
Faking civility. “Please” and “thank you” are said(sarcastically or not). Knocking before entering bedrooms is expected(and mostly ignored). No one talks about kills at the dinner table unless it’s funny. It’s a pitiful performance of “We’re not monsters, we’re just people who happen to murder.”
2000’s Humor. Jokes are dark, crude, self- deprecating and constant. Morally ambiguous punchlines, gore jokes, suicide jokes, slurs dropped casually because everyone’s too traumatized to be offended, much less have a diversity quota. It’s how they remind each other they’re still capable of feeling something, even if it’s only revulsion. You’ll hear South Park, Metalocalypse, Pickles the dog or Aqua teen hunger force coming from either Jeff or Ben’s room at unholy hours of the night. If you know what class of 09 is, think Jeff, Ben, Toby, Clockwork and Nina as the “it’s been 7 seconds” bit.
Relative Cleanliness. The place isn’t filthy, but it’s never clean. Blood gets wiped up(eventually). Holes in walls get covered with posters or paintings and skid marks covered with random rugs. Dust accumulates in corners because nobody cares. Everyone has their own mini- fridge/snack stash because sharing is theoretical.
3 a.m. gas station runs are a social event. Someone(Masky or Jane) announces they’re “going out,” and whoever’s awake piles into the van. Everyone gets their own snacks. Jeff, monster + cigarettes. Nina, sweet/sour candy + stupid cheap gas station toys. Toby, anything warm/filling food- wise. Ben always asks for mountain dew + rainbow sour candy. Someone buys Sally a new coloring book/markers. They argue over music the whole way, come back with bags of junk, then scatter to their rooms like roaches when the lights come on.
Group activities occur occasionally; movie nights in the living room (a range of horror or old Disney because if Sally picks, no one argues). Cards or bets for those who have the spare money to splurge and rage on. Video- game tournaments in Ben’s room(obnoxious yelling, controller- smashing, ends with Ben and Jeff beefing for a maximum of 3 hours). Smoking sessions on the porch or roof with cigarettes, weed, and whatever’s available to take the edge off. Basement fights, whether sparring or genuine grudges, where someone usually ends up with a black eye and a beer afterward.
The night owls(Jeff, Nina, Ben, Toby, sometimes Zero and Clockwork), congregate in the game room at 2- 4 am for Smash Bros, just dance, energy drinks, and bullying each other about who’s the biggest disaster.
The quiet ones(Masky, Hoodie, EJ, Cathunter, Bloody Painter or Kate), sit in the kitchen at odd hours drinking black coffee and sharing maybe five words total.
Sally and the “chaotic neutrals” (Laughing Jack when he visits, Grinny Cat, Smile Dog, Puppeteer or Kakegao) will turn any room into a circus of glitter, crayons, and property destruction mixed with mild debauchery.
Hierarchy:
Slenderman- Absolute authority. Doesn’t officially “live” in the mansion but is everpresent in many ways. Has his own manor levels that nobody can access unless teleported. Issues orders via static, written notes that appear on walls/trees, or simply appearing at will to wreck static chaos. His “desires” are never fully explained, but they usually involve fear generation, information gathering, sliming out threats to his existence, and collecting proxies. He holds clear favorites(Sally, Toby, occasionally Kate), but favoritism does not equal kindness.
Core/Marked Proxies- (Hoodie, Masky, Toby, Rouge, etc.). Wear the proxy symbol somewhere on their body. Highest loyalty tier, closest to fully possessed/indebted. Handle most of the “official” work like perimeter patrols, body disposal, proxy recruitment/recovery, enforcing mansion rules, running errands for Slenderman. They hold the least freedom and can’t easily leave for long periods with their minds more tightly leashed.
Affiliated/Semi- independent Residents- (Jeff, Nina, Ben, EJ, Clockwork, etc). No proxy symbol or only faint/optional marks. Come and go more freely (though the forest makes leaving difficult without prior experience). Do jobs when assigned, but mostly operate on their own agendas so long as they don’t interfere with Slenderman’s goals. Ben is kept around because he keeps the WiFi and electricity from imploding and thus, more tolerated for his childish behavior.
Protected/“Children”- (Sally, Lazari, Ben, more vulnerable entities, depending on fanon interpretation). Effectively off- limits for violence inside the mansion. Slenderman is strangely paternal toward them without showing affection. Hurting them is one of the few things that guarantees swift, merciless retaliation.
Here's Odan for @lyn-the-goblin-but-art for the Fae and Elven Secret Satan! I love drow, I love undead, I love undead drow, and even more when they come with doll/puppet motifs >:3 lol
