timfaggot

[timfaggot]

[timfaggot]

um sorry for moaning when you stabbed me. it's been a really long time since anyone touched me like that

[timfaggot]

i like jay as desi as well he seems extremely easy to frame for stalking murder obsession

no absolutely i almost altered my draft there bc he does fit the desi mold So well. nonthreatening little twink to sweep lexi off her feet and only reveal much too late that he was never going to help her get back on them again. hes far too attached to his princess to ever let her wander back into the hands of that brute - and its easier to gently guide her, direct her beautiful hands toward the pre-sliced cucumber he keeps in the fridge, bury her old clothes behind bagfuls of new designer dresses, cuts and materials that jay thinks flatter her, would feel good against his skin;

all too easy to believe her, when she greets him in a pale pink nightdress, her hair cropped short and pinned back like it was when they were in school, a wet-dream mirage appearing glimmering and soft in his lake-house kitchen and stroking his cheek. inquiring, in that sweet, low voice, if he'd like something to drink. she tried to make him a martini, how he likes it.

[timfaggot]

Slobbering like a dog over timlexi gone girl omg… she’s HIS crazy bitch he don’t got a choice

IM THE CRAZY BITCH YOU MARRIED

[timfaggot]

timlexi gone girl au thats it

o_O i was obsessed with gone girl for a very long time can i assume we're on the same page that andie is jay. and tims absolutely broken with guilt and cant stop himself flashing an "everythings fine" smile to the press. and lexi is watching everything unfold from her motel gripping her own arm tight enough to bruise muttering out loud to herself to tim? you motherfucker you liar feeling the breathless gut punch when tim on television looks right down the barrel of the lens and taps his chest, right over his heart, their old sign on set that really, they needed a break, needed to rest, weren't kidding around. that all this needed to stop.

lexi cutting her own wrist while tim's out at the bar. fuck. making sure to bleed all over their nice kitchen floors and mop it up like a shitty husband would and snicker to herself when she tips tim's ugly ottoman over. seething and blooming with it, overflowing with joyous, loving rage; spends weeks sprawled out in bed memorializing her decade of fear, of reasonable suspicion, flexing those script-writing muscles to create a character voice that's convincing when she pens in bittersweet gel-pink cursive, i think he might kill me.

crops her hair short and bleaches it an obnoxious blonde, tumbles into the arms of her old flame from college - the bigshot broadway-wannabe with the disarming smile, brian thomas and his overwhelming southern charm, the ex-boyfriend she'd caught trying on her panties and had reported to the dean - and longs for tim, for his blunt honesty, for the fool mistakes that damned him if only because they proved his harmlessness at every turn; how couldn't she realize? he's been baring his heart for her, losing sleep. he'd bash her head in before he ever made her prisoner, held her withering hormone supply over her head like a prize.

tim makes himself crazy in her absence- pushes jay out, shuts himself in the house and contemplates killing her and himself in equal measure. agonizes over the clues she's left, the vague photographs pointing toward another one of her yearly walks down memory lane - even if this one is ominous, strange, keeps getting him into trouble. the jockstrap in his work office is the thing that makes him hide all the others, lie to the police; as if he hadn't been already. he spends his mornings at the bar with sarah, biting his tongue on things that would only incriminate him. i've been fucking a college kid who works for me instead of making love with my trans wife. i've been fucking a man. a boy.

yes, i know. it's not my fault she's gotten... colder. it's not my fault she doesn't want to go out anymore. it's not my fault she doesn't want to have sex. she won't talk to anyone about getting her dosage changed- she thinks we're too rural.

her falling into his arms on the doorstep. smeared in blood. not hers but he doesn't know yet, doesn't know anything besides the warm feeling of her pulse under his hands and the hot realization that he could deliver justice now, in front of everyone, and damn himself along with her.

(he doesn't. cowardly. climbs into the shower with her and listens to her low, matter-of-fact explanation of how she'd framed brian. the porn on his computer made it easier, she insists, with the knowledge he already had a kind of fixation on trans women. probably not the kind that would make him kill - but what do the cops around here know? her fingernails, uncut and razorthin, slide down tim's spine, and he wills himself not to get hard.)

she cant babytrap him so who knows how this would end. maybe just holding the threat of killing herself in a very unmistakable way over him and being so absolutely batshit he knows shes serious. and fully does not want to lose her because of all the devotion-proving shit she just pulled. two broken pieces of the same whole baby they only fit each other now

[timfaggot]

happy hornetsversary gay people

[timfaggot]

marble hornets // the mountain goats

[timfaggot]

destroy yourself,

lose your friends

and isolate the ones

you love,

pathetically

abandon them.

[timfaggot]

fuck is he staring at

[timfaggot]

After the Rain

[timfaggot]

hey girl, are you today’s date? cuz you’re the tenth of. the um. uhh. cuz girl you’re building. october. do you want to eat chicken wings in bed with me

[timfaggot]

Happy pride month to the only gays ever

[timfaggot]

This is a comedy

[timfaggot]

(touching your open wound) damn you’re so wet

[timfaggot]

[timfaggot]

yeah sorry we took your canon male character and made him a butch dyke. no yeah it didnt change his appearance hes just a butch dyke now. sorry. hes infinitely cooler now if that makes u feel better

[timfaggot]

never feel like i can reblog any posts about how i love seeing men beat up and crying and being miserable bc i feel like a lot of them originate from a place of not liking men. you want to see men having a miserable time because you hate men. i want to see men having a miserable time because im a sadomasochist faggot who loves them. we are not the same.