#Marble hornets fanfic

[hatchetno1]

frustration and anger.

creepypasta/mh x reader in which they get frustrated or angry, or, in BEN's case, are frustrating themselves. word count: 2.1k cw: abuse, descriptions of anger, arguments/quarrelling.

EJ

EJ doesn’t often get angry.

in fact, it’s hard to even frustrate him. Even when faced with particularly difficult patients to suture up—ahem, Jeff— he shows no sign of being fazed.

well, perhaps that’s because he’s used to living with Jeff and his reckless, barbaric antics.

but when he does get frustrated, it’s like a gradual intensification.

you like to split his frustration into three phases.

phase 1: EJ starts to seem a little off. Quieter than usual, less responsive, and more distant. Almost as if he’s in his own world, deceptively peaceful.

phase 2: EJ starts to show actual signs of being frustrated. You notice that it is at this point he may start to snap lightly at others, but with you, he tries his best to keep it to a minimum.

phase 3 is the climax before the drop. On occasion, he may raise his voice slightly and openly express irritation. But he always drops, hard and fast.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing circles gently on your back. Though he has to bend over quite a bit (he’s a gentle giant at a height of 6’6 or about 2 meters), you find it to be very soothing that his frame envelops the entirety of yours.

oh, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of getting angry.

no, the anger you heard in his voice was undeniable as he roared at another member of the household to stay the fuck away from you.

you’d startled at the sheer sound of it, and quickly those trembles descended into violent shaking as you cried—his roar was simply not…human.

you flinched as he picked you up, just as gently as was the anger intense in that dreaded noise he made, a stark contrast in behavior, a jarring change in your body, mind and soul.

but other than that, you knew your darling EJ was back.

he plopped you onto his bed, surrounded by his sweet yet musky scent, nuzzling your neck and your face.

“I’m sorry”s were whispered countless times in your ear that night as you dozed off in the safety of his arms.

jeff

gotta put a trigger warning on this one. you know what to expect, but just in case you don’t, TW: Jeff is literally a murderer with abusive tendencies and anger issues.

at the start of your relationship, Jeff had been…well, to say the least, not the best partner.

he often got mad at you, whether it be keeping him waiting or spilling a cup of water.

yeah. spilling a cup of water.

but you understood why he was the way he was. he just couldn’t help it. but that didn’t mean you were going to stick around for it, no matter how much you loved him.

one day after a particularly huge argument, you found him crying in his room. his sniffles were unmistakable, but you knew you’d have to pretend you hadn’t heard from ten feet away.

turns out, angsty little Jeff here wasn’t completely unaware of himself.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he had sobbed as quietly as he could. “I know I’m a bad boyfriend, I know, I keep lashing out at you and I’m so sorry.”

your relationship could have very well ended that day if you hadn’t found Jeff crying on the floor.

but even though he’d hurt you so many times, you took him back into your arms.

and so you taught him to manage his anger, though it took you immense effort, energy and bravery.

he’d always help, though, by reminding you it was okay to yell back at him. you chided him lightly for it, saying that it’d just cause a back and forth.

“oh, right. my bad. sorry, doll,” he had said with a sheepish grin.

today, you are proud to boast that you trained your bloodhound boyfriend to be a tame dog. hell, he even does whatever you tell him to now, albeit sometimes reluctantly.

but he understands that if he loves you, he must make sacrifices upon sacrifices. you did that for him.

now it is his turn to sacrifice himself for you.

masky - tim

it’s not really uncommon that Tim gets angry.

but his anger is almost always the quiet kind.

he will “hmph” and huff lightly, a mild kind of anger you both can still joke about, though his face will redden at it.

you can’t help it though, the sass he gives you when he’s lightly frustrated is too good to let slip past.

oh, but when his anger gets loud—

it’s no longer a harmless little nip.

it’s been directed everywhere. everywhere, his teammates, the table, the card game he’s losing a bit too embarrassingly to Toby who’s being an unbearable little ass about it.

but never you.

okay, it was one time.

but Tim decided it was one time too many. (as he should)

he’d raised his voice at you, more so out of frustration rather than anger.

and you flinched.

and oh, how that little flinch broke his heart.

he shut up immediately, gathering you into his arms, whispering “oh, I’m so sorry, darling”, and “you’re okay, you’re okay”.

he never did it again. ever.

now, when you both get angry at each other, it always devolves into stupid little giggles and kicking.

hoodie - brian

Brian doesn’t really get angry, nor does he get frustrated.

normally, at least.

something shines in his eyes when he is defied, a shadow of a grin, a curl of the lip—

you spend a couple days investigating this, defying him little by little.

“Y/N, could you pass me the water?” “No.” and you’d say it with a cheeky smile on your face to match this strange expression on his.

it evolved into much greater things, “Y/N, come over here for a bit.” “Nope!”

“Y/N, help me up.” “Nope!”

your gleeful defiance doesn’t have a complete zero effect, either. with each silly little “nope”, the glint in his eyes grows brighter. and you know that the cup you’ve slowly been filling the past few days is about to overflow.

it’s one fateful day that you happily defy him once again, and—

oh. something’s grabbing at your jaw, and your lover’s face is so close to yours.

he smiles so gently at you, so purely. but his grip on your jaw says otherwise.

firm like iron, reprimanding, but not harmful or venomous. you know he isn’t going to hurt you, but oh, he isn’t letting you go either.

“Y/N,” he says calmly. “You’ve been a little more uncooperative than usual.”

the shiver it sends down your spine isn’t one of fear. excitement, rather.

he lets you go, but guides you to the bed. “Sit,” he commands.

so you do. what else are you to do when your lover commands you so well?

“Good girl.”

so you never say no to him again, not when it comes to harmless favors.

Brian does not get angry or frustrated…at least, not like the normal person does.

toby

Toby becomes a very bitter cynic when upset, spitting sarcasm wherever he goes.

his BPD only makes it worse. his relationship with Tim is already strained as it is, with the latter trying his best (as much as a man with anger issues can), and his relationship with Brian being almost entirely carried by the older man.

and his relationship with you, oh his sweet vogel, his darling dove— he doesn’t know what to think of it. some days he lets loose around you, tickling you and blowing raspberries against your cheeks, and others he’s withdrawn, curled up into a ball in his bed, and so you dive in with him, nuzzling him against his sheets long overdue for a change.

but if it’s neither of those, he’s lashing out. sometimes you can’t even look at him when he walks into the room bringing dark clouds over the atmosphere. that’s when you know you can’t look up at him.

and when you make the mistake of looking up, your smile meets a scowl.

“what are you looking at.” he’ll spit, and then storm off, as if he can’t stand your eyes on him.

and it’s true, your eyes gaze at him with such gentleness, he can’t bring himself to stare back sometimes. especially when he’s in a bad mood, because he breaks inside as he sees his own eyes burn the love in your eyes, reducing them to ashes of fear.

“vogel,” he’d whisper at night, lying next to you in your bed. “i’m sorry.”

he apologizes so much and so often you no longer make a big deal out of it, but this time, his soft whisper is laced with such heavy guilt, your arms move before your mind thinks, pulling him into a soft embrace.

oh, but this bad mood is nothing compared to his jealousy.

Jeff gets close to you? Jeff is suddenly on the ground, blood leaking from his head and EJ hurriedly dragging the former away, admonishing him about not messing with Toby’s precious human.

Tim comforts you about Toby’s outbursts? suddenly he’s against the wall, Toby growling and spitting in his face. if he can’t be there for you, then no one else gets to be there for you either. though, he knows this is selfish.

if he could help it, he’d let you go to whomever you wanted for comfort. but oh, his heart aches so.

and his jealousy is nothing compared to how angry he gets at himself, bashing the walls of the manor, crying out at night, because he can’t be there for you like a normal boyfriend.

he doesn’t know this, but you’re in a corner too, muffled sobs, tears, nose dripping and all.

so at night, you crawl back into bed before he notices you, and lie awake till he comes back.

as his breathing settles and his snoring begins, you hug him just a little bit tighter, your sweet vogel with broken wings.

ben

you have to admit, BEN is really, really freaky.

in the way he plays his games, the way he treats his archnemesis Jeff, in bed—oops.

but particularly, in the way he seems to have an endless tolerance for things that would usually upset someone.

he just. fucking giggles.

“aww, my sweet Y/N is so cute when she’s mad~”

context: he pissed you off and you’re currently in the middle of admonishing him with your whole heart and soul.

conversely, you’re the one who gets mad right back at him.

within the hour, he presents you with a tiktok with two cats that says: me when i’m venting and all my bf does is make jokes

he cackles to the ends of the earth and proceeds to make even more jokes

frankly, when the topic of frustration comes up with BEN’s name in the same sentence, you pretty much just think of him being the frustrating asshole in the relationship.

“BEN, give me my fucking phone back.”

he’s dangling it over your head, using the fact that he’s a floating apparition that can somehow interact with physical objects to his advantage.

once, you got so frustrated at him that you cried.

thankfully, he had the decency to pause, panic, and reflect on his actions.

“oh.” five seconds passed and your crying didn’t get better (what did he expect?). he repeated himself. “oh.”

“actually say something, you idiot!” you sobbed. and this is what snapped BEN into action. (you can’t believe you actually had to tell him to comfort you.)

“oh.” then he realized he’d just been saying “oh” like a broken record. “um.”

so he wraps you up in a blanket like a burrito, and holds you close to his chest.

“i’m sorry.”

“promise not to do it again?” you look up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“…i can’t promise.” you can tell he’s holding back a cheeky grin.

you whine and hit him lightly.

but you know very well that he loves you; this frustration merely comes with him as a package.

[toolobster4u]

Marble Hornets should have had it’s own anime beach episode halfway through

[gaythingsforlittleguys]

Show off

!Not my art!

Masky x Reader

TW: Descriptions of Gore, cigarettes, cigarette smoking, breaking and entering, murder.

It’s a night like any other for you. Some poor fool had gotten just a little too close to ruining everything, and now it was your job to clean up the mess they’d made. Nothing out of the ordinary, in fact, it was almost boring at this point.

That’s why you've started turning these missions into a competition with your fellow Proxies.

You step out from the wall of trees, finding yourself behind your target's house. Alone. You’d once again beaten the others here. A small yet triumphant smile spreads across your lips as you saunter out further from the forest.

Settling against the wall of your target's home, you wait, placing a cigarette between your lips to kill time until the others arrive.

Smoke rises up towards the night sky, slipping easily from your lips. It’s always peaceful, waiting. It gives you time to think, without the noise of people around you. People… You aren’t a very big fan of people. It’s probably why you spent most of your time alone.

The worst of them all was Tim.

God, he was such a nuisance. Always in your ear, telling you what to do, bossing you around, yelling in your face when you ignored him, as if you didn’t have five inches on him.

Putting him in his fucking place would be sooooo satisfying.

You don’t have much time to consider that line of thought, ‘cause your fellow proxies emerge from the trees, one by one.

“Finally,” you mutter, putting your cigarette out on the wall you lean against, “took you long enough.”

You're sure the vein is ready to burst behind his mask. The thought brings a little smirk to your lips. 

“How the hell do you always get here before us?” He growls. It was a rhetorical question, but you answer it anyway.

“Oh, y’know, I just… Have my ways.”

“Well, it needs to fucking stop. You need to be more serious about the missions. This isn’t a game. You don’t even have your goddamn mask on” He spits, getting up in your face.

You push off the wall, towering over the man before you. The urge to shove him back is incredibly strong. As much as you like to play around, you know now is not the time, nor the place.

So, you simply pull on your mask, walk away from him. Not without “accidentally” bumping his shoulder.

“C’mon, we’ve got a job to do.” You say simply. Tim huffs behind you, but says nothing more.

You stride around to the side of the house, finding a perfect little entrance. A trellis, right beneath a window. You hook your foot on, and haul yourself up, slowly and carefully climbing higher towards the window.

You fall silently inside, slowly stalking forward into what looks like a laundry room. The others tumble in, much louder than you.

“Idiots.” You mutter, as you slowly push open the door before you, looking out into a hallway.

Scanning up and down, you don’t see a soul, so you slink out from the laundry room, confidants in tow.

“Alright, Brian and Toby, you two will take the first floor. Me and (Y/N) will take the second. Got it” Tim whispers.

“Got it.” The two say.

“Wait wait wait, why the hell do I have to be stuck with you? Why can’t Brian search with you, or something?” You whisper yell.

“Because I said so. Now, get searching. And be fucking quiet.” Tim spits back.

You roll your eyes, but keep your mouth shut. There will be time to properly fight with Tim later, after a little blood is spilled.

Toby and Brian stalk down the stairs, while you and Tim go down the opposite ends of the hallway. You take the right side, while he takes the left side.

You peek inside the different doors along your path, finding nothing in each of them. Until you reach the final one.

Slowly, you push open the last door. You don’t have much hope in finding anything. But, you perk up at the sight of a blanket covered form lying on the bed in the middle of the room. The blanket rising and falling with their breath. Their breath, that they’ll soon be losing.

You slink forward, towards the form on the bed, readying your weapon to finish this mission.

Quickly and quietly, you pounce, nearly straddling your victim as you hold them down. Their eyes snap open, fear shining behind them. The sight shoots a rush of adrenaline through you, as you the edge of your weapon to their throat.

Blood erupts out like a fountain, coating your hands, your clothes, your face just a little bit. Your cheeks ache from the wide smile spread across them, as the life drains from their eyes. You hum to yourself, pleased with getting the kill before the others. You can just imagine the look on Tim’s face when you once again beat him to the kill.

You hop down off the bed, padding out into the hallway, just as Tim ducks out of one of the rooms down the way.

He stops when he sees you, covered in blood. “Seriously, again?” He growls, striding towards you, disregarding being quiet. There’s no one left to sneak up on.

“Yep.” You say, a smile plastered on your face, not that he could even see it. You’re sure he could hear it in your voice, though.

“I’m getting real sick of you,” he says, once again getting up in your face, his favorite thing to do, “your competitiveness. You just always have to win, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re just upset because I got the kill. Maybe if you were better at this, you’d get the kills more often.”

The sound that escapes from his lips is almost animalistic. He is pissed.

“I’m the best here! I’ve been here longer than anyone! And you better start showing some fucking. Respect!” 

He goes on and on, yelling in your face. You can feel heat crawl up your neck. You feel dizzy. Your body feels almost painfully tense.

Without warning, you grab him by his stupid tan jacket, and slam him against the wall, holding him there. 

“You wanna talk about being sick of someone, huh?” You growl.

He goes to say something, but gets cut off by your hand wrapping around his throat. “No. Nuh fucking uh, you don’t get to speak. I speak.”

His breath audibly hitches in his throat, his pulse throbbing rapidly beneath your fingers.

“Not so talkative now, huh?” You mock, pulling down your mask with your free hand.

You could just imagine the look on his face now. Shock, anger? His cheeks would definitely be all red. They always were when he got angry.

You hook your index finger under his mask, and lift it up to rest on top of his head, meeting his dark brown eyes.

It caught you off guard, his expression. You were expecting the usual face of anger, maybe some disgust. But no, it was something else, that look on his face.

His eyes were hazy, and his lips parted. The only thing that was as expected was the redness on his cheeks, but even that was different.

You stare in confusion for a few moments before it dawns on you.

Oh…

A smirk pulls on your cheeks, as you squeeze his neck a little harder. A hard huff of air escapes from between his lips.

“Really Tim, this does it for you? God, that’s so pathetic. You’re so pathetic.”

His lip twitches up in a growl, and yet his cheeks burn darker red.

“I mean, just look at you. You wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid.”

You lean in closer to him, staring deep into his eyes. Your lips just barely brush together, as you come to a pause. 

“...Why’d you stop?” Tim asks hoarsely. 

“No reason… Just wanted to see your reaction.” You say, before you capture his lips.

You press in closer, your own chest pressing against his. He was pleasantly warm, in a way that seeped deep down into your bones.

You slid your tongue across his lower lip, and he parted them in turn, letting you slip your tongue in his mouth like the greedy vampire you are.

You slid your free hand down his wide chest, feeling along as you explored his warm mouth. He ran his hands down your waist till he found purchase on your hips, pulling you even closer.

You pull your head back, staring deep into his eyes. 

“It’s nice seeing this side of you Tim. Docile.” You tease, running your thumb over his lips. 

“I’m not-” He tries to speak, but you quickly cut him off by shoving your thumb in his mouth.

“Shhh, sh sh sh. Don’t try to deny it. Just look at you, you’re so fucking desperate.”

You leave him there with your thumb in his mouth for a few seconds longer, before pulling it out, moving to replace it with your tongue again.

That is, until you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both snap towards the noise, startled. You’d almost forgotten Toby and Brian were here.

“Uh, hate to… Interrupt. But we gots to go.” Brian says, slightly muffled by his hood.

You pull away from Tim, putting a good distance between you and him. You were embarrassed, but you didn’t let that show. Just strolled past them, as if nothing happened…

[sadgurl805]

syg fanart of alexis and her tits cuz i’m constantly re-reading the story tehehe

p.s: for @itsabee and @13tinysocks :)!!

[studentfilmyoulying]

Sad Sethlex

Ship: Seth Wilson x Alex Kralie (but like barely)

Word count: 378

Triggers: blood, guns, character death, angst

—————————————————————————

His vision was blurry at first, like when you first wake up, and when it cleared Alex prayed this was a dream. He knew though that not even his worst nightmares compared to this. Looking down, he saw a gun in his hand and he dropped it as if scalded. Alex stared at it on the ground, refusing to look at the other thing. The other person.

Then his brain kicked in though, and he realized there could be a chance to save him. The second the thought crosses his mind, Alex jerks into motion, his knees slamming hard on the dirty concrete in front of him. He quickly feels for a heartbeat and is met with a dull, barely there, pulse. His mind scrambles to remember any first-aid tips. Stop the bleeding. Right. He tears off a clean piece of his friend's white shirt and holds it to the wound. In a matter of seconds, the scrap is soaked though, it's a losing battle and he knows it.

Alex doesn't care at this point if he gets blood on him and reaches out to his friend — his last friend. The body is light and easily moves onto Alex's lap. He cradles the dying boy as the tears start to fall. "What have I done?" He thinks aloud.

"Seth...Seth, you're fine, it's going to be fine I promise. I got you, it's okay. We'll get out of this together. I've been planning for us to get out of this together. Seth please....please you have to be okay," his pleading is broken up by the sobs wracking his body, "I can't do this without you. I need you, Seth. Please...I love you."

His vision is going blurry again, and Alex is unsure at first if it's the tears or if he's losing consciousness. The roaring in his ears makes him believe it's the latter though. It's that thing.

"No! You can't have him, I gave you the others, I was supposed to keep this one. You can't have Seth. Please." Alex begs, but his vision is only getting worse, he can't feel his arms to tell if Seth is even still there or not. He chokes back a scream of frustration as he blacks out again.

————————————————————

Do you like this? Or have fanfic ideas but you aren't good at writing? Something in particular you want to see but can't find anywhere? Give me a follow and send an ask and I'd be happy to write it! 🙂

[squarebracketsmileyface]

The video mentioned in this post

It's also on tiktok cos that's where I made it lol.

[seth-likes-pepsi]

"Nothing is wrong."

A Jaylex fanfic about Jay's reaction to Alex's change in behaviour during Marble Hornets, intended to be platonic :p

Jay's living room was dark, light shut off, and curtains drawn. The only light source came from the small TV settled on a shabby cabinet that Jay always worried would break under the slightest pressure. The screen displayed a scene from Fight Club, Jay could never get into it, but Alex always seemed to love it. With every change in scene or camera angle, Jay knew to expect a long and passionate rant about every detail of it, even obscure things that most people wouldn't know to point out after several watches. But this time was different. It had been different for a while. Instead of proudly speaking over the whole film, he simply sat there and stared at the screen, occasionally coughing or shaking slightly. It seemed as though he was disconnected from reality or in a weird trance. This wasn't Alex, or at least the Alex that Jay knew.

It had been a couple of weeks since Jay finally realised that something was wrong with Alex. Perhaps it was his frequent coughing fits, or his unpredictable temper, or maybe his constantly growing collection of tapes. Jay attempted to speak to him about it, only to be consistently shut down or brushed off.

"I just have a sore throat."

"I'm exhausted."

"You're thinking into it too much."

"Nothing is wrong."

As time passed and it continued, Jay struggled to figure out who Alex was trying to lie to. He worried that every time Alex had assured Jay he was fine or made an excuse, he was trying so badly to convince himself of that, that everything was fine, that he was the same person he'd always been. The thought tore him up inside. Was Alex okay? Was something happening? What could Alex possibly be hiding? 

Jay's thoughts spiralled over the coming months, with Alex's worsening and concerning behaviour slowly consuming Jay's thoughts. Until it finally stopped, and Alex moved away, but not without leaving one last piece of himself. The tapes. The tapes he'd been so protective of. Jay struggled to cope with Alex moving away. It felt like he'd hit a dead end with someone he used to call his best friend. The thought of the tapes made his skin crawl, Alex's attitude towards them made him want to throw them out himself. What the fuck was on those tapes. Surely it was just Marble Hornets footage, right? Jay couldn't take it much longer and shoved the box in the depths of his wardrobe, hoping to forget about them.

[an-archii]

My happy place is Marble Hornets fanfiction

[cryptomiracle]

✯sharpsh××ter✯

outlaw masky(tim wright) x fem!bounty hunter reader pt1

sharpshooter - by M

synopsis: it's 1891, you're a bounty hunter & you've been tracking down a certain outlaw with a hefty reward on his head for two years, but when you finally catch him, you realize you may be way in over your head.

a little jig for you to listen to while u read :)

WARNING(S)!!

This is only part one!

Guns

Reader is kinda money hungry/money motivated

Alcohol

Psychical fights

Cursing

I'm horrible at describing terrain LOL

Pronouns aren't used on reader until part two, although words like wife/lady are used.

(this is supposed to be from a second pov)

Pet names (sweetheart, doll, honey, darlin' etc)

Reader isn't aware that tim is masky (it's explained later)

Breaking of bones

Mentions of crimes / crimes being committed (murder, robbery, etc)

This is more than likely inaccurate to that time period

Although the warnings may say otherwise, this is really just a silly little fanfic

✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷

*BANG*

the saloon doors slammed open, followed by the sound heavy footsteps, along with the jingle of spurs.

You could hear as the footsteps got closer and closer, the feeling of anticipation caused your blood to pump faster.

you looked up from your glass, and looked at the bartender, whose hands were shaking ever so slightly.

???:"I heard you been lookin' for me"

you heard a deep voice come from beside you

You quickly downed the rest of your whiskey before you slowly cut your eyes to where the voice was coming from, to see the one and only...

Tim wright

✯(Age: 28

Bounty: 5'000

Crimes: multiple counts of robbery, extortion, and forgery)✯

you: "and who might you be?"

you looked down at your empty cup

you knew damn well you had been asking around town about him, but you decided to play it safe.

tim: "don't act like you don't know.."

he roughly knocked your cup out of your hand, causing it to hit the floor and burst

you turned your head to face him, annoyance apparent on your face.

you: "you wanna take this outside?"

your eye slightly twitched

tim: "what? you scared to lose in front of all these people?"

Leaning against the bar, he chuckled as he looked around the room

You leaned closer to him, your face inches away from his

you: "I didn't mean a fist fight, Tim"

you backed away slowly, and placed your hand on your gun holster

You watched as the realization hit him

He slightly hesitated before replying

tim: "alright.."

he sighed as he stood up from his seat and made his way to the exit, he paused in front of the door before speaking again

tim: "you comin' sweetheart?

you got up from your seat as well, hand still on your gun.

you saw the distressed faces of the people in the bar as you walked by.

tim: "ladies first"

He took off his black, dusty hat and held it on his chest as he bowed and he held the door open for you

you only gave him an unimpressed look

you: "you go right ahead"

he sighed unenthusiasticly as he stepped out.

you followed him, staying close behind him to make sure he didn't try to run off, which you doubted he would do.

You took a moment to look up at the night sky, which was littered with stars.

when you brought your attention back to him, you noticed he was staring at you, his brown eyes glistening under the full moon.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

You started to speak, attempting to ease the tightness in your throat

you: "on the count of five.."

he pulled back his coat to reveal a revolver

He placed his hand on it gently, he had this dangerous look in his eye, one that told you he would eat you alive if you weren't careful

everything went deafeningly silent, the only sound coming from your short breaths.

1..

2..

3..

before you got to four, you saw him reach for his gun

You quickly drew your colt, and shot him in the thigh.

He yelled as he fell to the ground, and fired a shot.

The bullet wizzed past you, luckily not hitting you.

tim: "DAMN!"

he winced as his blood spilled out unto the ground.

you walked over to him and knelt down in front of him, you looked down at him with a slight grin.

you: "cheater.."

you whispered to him

You twirled your gun around, so that you were holding the barrel.

You then hit him in the head with the handle of your gun, and watched as sleep overtook him.

✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷

He slowly gained consciousness, and squinted his eyes, the brightness of the sun temporarily blinding him.

the sound of hoofs clacking ringed in his ears.

He took in his surroundings, only to realize he was not where he once was.. instead he was in the middle of the desert, the only signs of life in his field of vision other than himself being a few cacti here and there, along with a bit of dry grass.

He turned his head to the right, ignoring the pain in his head and saw his horse.

He followed the rope that was tied to his horse to see the torso of an unfamiliar horse, along with a pair of boots, and the bottom of skirt flopping up and down in front of his face

He felt anger overcome him as he remembered what had happened the night before.

tim: "mmph!"

He squirmed as he tried to say something, but it came out as a mumble because of the gag in his mouth.

you: "good mornin' darlin!"

You said in a cheery tone of voice, only fueling the anger that was bubbling up in him.

you: "how'd ya sleep?"

masky/tim: "MMHP, MMMMM"

He attempted to speak once more.

you: "oh, right"

You reached around and pulled the gag down to his neck.

tim: "YOU M0THERF#CKER"

Taking no time to catch his breath, he instantly yelled at you, rage evident in his voice.

you: "sorry to tell you this, but there's a slight chance you may have a concussion"

you cut your eyes toward him

you were clearly trying to get a reaction out of him,(and it worked) you knew you didn't hit him hard enough to give him a concussion.

tim: "D#MN YOU TO HELL!"

after a few minutes of him cursing at you, you got tired of it and put the gag back in his mouth.

And yet he continued to yell, although it was intelligible.

hours went by, the sun was starting to set and you knew you'd have to rest for the night.

Tim had stopped yelling awhile ago, which would be worrying if you didn't have him bound, and wounded.

You slowed down in speed as you approached a plateau, you decided to settle here for the night.

you hopped off your horse and tied the horses to a log, to keep them from running away.

you then pulled tim off the back of your horse, causing him to hit the ground face first.

tim: "hmmp!"

he groaned

you rolled him over, and set him up against the same log you had your horses tied too.

you: "I'm gon' get some firewood, don't move.."

He thought about attempting to run, he really did,, but he decided against it.. figuring that if he were to successfully escape, he'd have to plan it out.

you left him there to look for anything flammable you could find, luckily when you came back he was where you left him.

you: "I figured you'd try to run off while I was gone"

He groaned.

you lightly grinned at him before removing the gag once more.

tim: "I would have, if it weren't for the HOLE IN MY LEG."

you laughed as you noticed a vein in his head pop out.

You put the various sticks, and grass you found on the ground and made a fire.

you set across from him, leaning against the hard wall of the plateau.

tim: "who are you anyway?"

he huffed, although you could barely see it, he had a slight curious glint in his eye

you: "now why would I tell you my name?"

tim: "well, how are we supposed to become friends if I don't know your name?"

you: "so you think we're gon' be friends?"

You chuckled, the audacity of this man? To think that the two of you could be anything even close to friends was a very strong reach. he was up to something you just couldn't figure what it was he was up too.

tim: "oh, I think we're gon' be a lot more than friends.."

He cooed as he leaned back into a more relaxed position and gave you a serious, yet sly look.

That's when you realized what he was doing

Tim was a very handsome man, that you couldn't deny.. but you couldn't allow yourself to fall for his tricks, nor his advances.

You felt your cheeks slightly heat up as you paused for a minute, deciding on what to say.

The silence was heavy, and awkward.

But only on your part, Tim on the other hand found enjoyment in your slow reaction.

you: "we're goin' to town tomorrow so I can turn you in and finally be rid of you"

You said bitterly, as the heat in your cheeks dissipated

He sighed in discontent once he realized that his charms wouldn't work on you so easily

you stared down at the fire, and watched as the flames grew higher & swayed from side to side, almost as if they were alive.

Surely enough you drifted off to sleep, the moon shining brightly above the two of you.

You felt eyes on you the whole night, you weren't exactly sure if they were his eyes or something else, either way you didn't sleep very well that night.

✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷✯✷

you felt lightheaded as you awoke slowly

your eyes shot open as you realized that tim wasn't where you left him

You quickly gathered yourself, and stood up.

You looked around, the horses were still there so you knew he was on foot.

You packed up the few things you had out, then you untied your horses and started following tracks he had left behind.

you didn't exactly know how he got free, all you knew was that the rage that had been building up over these two years of chase, was finally bubbling over.

You had spent two years chasing after this assh#le, you weren't gonna let him get away that easily.

you: "c'mon!"

you pulled on the reins, causing the horse to run faster

You followed after the messy tracks he had left

you felt the breeze blow against your face, causing any stray hairs to fly back.

Soon enough, his blurry silhouette came into view.

You felt sweat drip off of your forehead, heat radiating off of the golden sand.

He started to pick up his pace as he heard the sound of hooves clacking.

Despite his attempt at running away, you caught up with him, blocking his path as you pulled your horse in front of him.

You hopped off of your horse, and tackled him to the ground. He yelled a mixture of different curse words as his body roughly hit the ground, you raised your fist, then brought it down in one swift movement.

You watched as blood started to spill from his nose, he began to squirm under you, trying to break free.

You used your weight to keep him down, before hitting him once more with your right hand.

You raised your left hand once again preparing to punch him, but before you could he had grabbed you by your hair and pulled you off of him

He took no time to jump on top of you, and wrap his hands around your throat.

He squeezed tightly, you could feel the air in your lungs be forced out as a burning sensation overtook your body, you attempted to break free of his grasp you kicked, and punched, and scratched, but to no avail.

You looked up at him, your vision becoming blurry, you couldn't quite make out the expression on his face, all you could see was the blood dripping from his possibly broken nose

You then remembered the bullet wound in his leg.

You pulled down the bandage you had previously put on his leg and dug your finger into the hole as hard as you could.

He yelled as his grasp around your neck weakened, you took that chance to push him off of you and onto the ground.

You both just laid there for a while, trying to get over the throbbing pain you were both experiencing.

You groaned as you sat up, leaving an imprint on the sand.

You turned to your side, and looked at him intensely.. he only turned his head and looked back at you with an amused look on his face, followed by a chuckle.

tim: "you know.."

He started to speak

Before he could finish his sentence, you roughly kicked him in the stomach, the heel of your boot digging into his gut.

he mumbled something unintelligible as he rolled onto his side, while clutching his stomach.

you fully pulled yourself off of the ground, you stood tall over him, the sun gleaming behind you, casting a blinding glow around you.

You pulled your gun out of it's holster, and pointed it straight at his face, he looked up at you, with a look in his eye that gave you nothing but goosebumps.

You swallowed that lump in your throat, and started to speak.

you: "you try to run off again.."

you paused, only adding on to the pressure that was weighing heavily.

you: "and I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your head."

venom seething from your words, you roughly grabbed him by his arm and pulled him up off the ground.

You grabbed some spare rope from your bag, and tied him up once more.

This time, you tied his hands behind his back, and his feet.. tightly.

You stowed him on your horse, and started on your way to the nearest town.

✯⁠✯⁠✯⁠✯⁠✯⁠✯⁠✯⁠✯⁠✯

i will be reading over this to check for any mistakes, if you spot any please do tell me!!

[spittingbloodandscreaming]

can u do cis alex k. x cis male reader smut where alex spanks the reader and perchance piss play like reader being forced 2 piss themselves pretty pretty plz :3

WARNINGS: piss, semi-public? you're in the woods, humiliation, brosex?

thanks for the 10 bucks!! Sorry it took me a while to spit this out, so i hope you like it! sorry I totally forgot to incorporate the spanking

"Alex, I need to piss dude."

You and Alex have been out in the woods since about 10 AM, working on his student film Marble Hornets. It's now 2:30, and you've had to pee for the last hour or so. And you’ve been complaining about it for that long, too, but Alex is getting increasingly annoyed.

“Then go behind a tree or something, we're in the woods,” Alex says, rolling his eyes as his warm breath turns into fog around his face. He holds his camera up to a dead tree, for some reason. He's responded this way for the past hour, disregarding your basic human need to pee. He couldn't care less if you end up wetting your pants. In fact, it might even serve as a 'I told you so' moment. That’s what he tells himself. Though, secretly, he has a different, less passive-aggressive motive behind wanting you to lose control.

“No! I’m telling you, that’s weird! What if a bird or a squirrel sees my dick or something.” Alex just rolls his eyes, completely choosing to ignore your genuine concerns of indecent forest exposure other than letting out an indignant sigh. You huff, kicking a tree stump only a few feet away from the tree Alex was focused on. Really, he could care less about whether you pissed your pants or not. He might even like it, it could be a good ‘I told you so’ moment. That’s what he told himself, anyway. In reality he’d like you pissing your pants for a very different, significantly less passive aggressive reason. 

As the next twenty minutes tick by, Alex is reaching his breaking point of annoyance, while you're bursting at the seams with urine. Shifting your weight back and forth, you continue 'whining', as Alex puts it, about needing to pee. Your absolute refusal to pee in the woods, while logical to you, is making Alex's filming process harder. So, it's either shut up and pee in the woods or shut up and wet your pants. Unfortunately for Alex, you're not complying with either of those options. You’re so uncomfortable; the pressure in your bladder is borderline unbearable.

“Dude, you're being really stupid right now,” Alex says, his back turned to you before he turns around, looking at the screen of his camera and periodically glancing up at you. “I mean, you seriously can’t be that against— did you just piss yourself?” Alex looks down to the very obvious. and, a decently large soaking wet spot in your pants. Your face is flushed a bright red as you look down to your pants, then moving your gaze down to stare aggressively at dead leaves. You’re completely over loaded with embarrassment, focusing on the nearest possible escape plan even though Alex had driven the both of you here. You hear Alex’s mildly sadistic cackling. What a supportive friend. “Dude! That’s really fucking embarrassing for you!” Alex nudges you a bit, taking time to catch his breath. “C’mon, look at me. That’s honestly really pathetic.” This is the part where you remember how much of a dick your friend is.

And even worse than the embarrassment is the way your body reacts to it.

You immediately cover your face with your hands, feeling the heat radiating off your bright red cheeks as Alex picks back up his howling laughter. “No, just— just shut the fuck up right now.”

“No way! You seriously got a boner over pissing yourself in front of me?”  Alex laughs harder, doubling over slightly as he does so. As Alex's cackling dies down, he collects himself and places his camera down on the tree stump. “Okay, okay we'll talk about that in a second, but don't you have a change of clothes in my car?” Alex speaks a little more genuine, but his voice stays laced with condescension. You shake your head in response to his question, cursing yourself for trying to save space in your bag.

Alex lets out a huff, pausing for a moment before clearing his throat. “Well, you probably don't wanna stay in those pants, y'know. It's gonna get cold soon and wet clothes are worse than none.” Alex tries to disguise his attempt at seeing you half naked and humiliated with half hearted concern. You saw what he was trying to do, but he was right. Any breeze that passed was absolutely freezing. So, with shaky hands(partially due to the cold, and partially due to your body radiating with embarrassment), and multiple thoughts telling you it was a bad idea to strip from the waist down in front of your friend, you unbutton your jeans and make very slow work of pulling them down. All the while, Alex is looking down at you with a strange amount of amusement on his face.

After a fair amount of time spent struggling to get your pants off over your shoes, you reluctantly look up at Alex. He takes a moment to adjust his gaze away from your crotch, only bringing more awareness to the fact you're sporting a hard-on in wet underwear. The look he gives you alone is enough to tell you to ditch those too, and so with a sigh, you do so. Now standing in the middle of the woods, half naked in front of one of your best friends, you begin to question just what led you here.

A train of thought that is, of course, quickly interrupted by Alex's horny gawking.

“You're really just on full display now, aren't you?” He takes a step closer, pushing up his glasses. He hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you way too close to him considering the situation. He's very liberal with his free hand as he continues to talk, ignoring how rigid your body gets at the sudden contact. “It's… not that big.” He takes the opportunity to grab your dick in his hand, only wrapping a few of his fingers around to further emphasize his point. The redness in your face deepens as you shudder. You'd look away if you hadn't already been aggressively avoiding looking at Alex the entire interaction.

Alex begins to move his hand, going all the way up your shaft and back down, moving devastatingly slow. He couldn't help but lean in to kiss you, and you would've pulled away, you really would've but, he was just so intense, it'd be a sin to pull away. Unless, of course, it was for Alex to talk more. “You're such a fucking loser you know that? Getting a boner all because you pissed yourself? Or was it ‘cause you pissed yourself in front of me?” Alex doesn't give you a chance to respond before he pulls you even closer and kisses you again. He speeds up his hand, sufficiently getting you to moan into the kiss, and he takes that chance to force his tongue into your mouth. Alex places a firm grip on the back of your neck, kissing you roughly as his other hand returns to the slow, steady pace he had set before. You throw your arms around Alex’s neck, getting weirdly into the situation you have yourself in. 

Alex only lasts a few minutes like that before he flips you around, pushing you against the closest tree and pulling your hips against his, forcing you to bend over. He reaches a hand around, shoving two of his fingers into your mouth. He presses down on your tongue, keeping his fingers in your mouth for a few more seconds before taking them out ever so slowly. He puts his free hand on your hip, fingertips digging harshly into the flesh. His other hand finds your entrance, wet fingers pressing into you, pulling an extended whine from your throat. You hear Alex undoing his belt as he works you open, followed by a long sigh as he removes his fingers from your hole and replaces them with the tip of his cock. Are you adequately prepped? Probably not, but at least he had the decency to try.

You aren’t sure how long Alex has been inside of you at this point, but his pace has become unbearably fast, and his thrusts are so hard they’re shaking the few remaining leaves off the dead tree he has you positioned against. Each moan you release is laced with quiver as you make an attempt to tell Alex how close you are, but he seems to catch on. He reaches a hand around to hook his fingers into your mouth, making it impossible for you to form any words at all as he growls.

Alex hissed, sucking in a long breath through his teeth as he bottoms out inside of you. He barely gives you any time at all to adjust as he starts rough right off the bat. The side of your face presses against the tree with every one of his thrusts, and there's drool dripping down your chin from both your inability to close your mouth properly at the moment, and because of just how good he feels inside of you.

“C’mon, you pissed all over yourself, right? You can cum all over yourself for me, too, right?” You do your best to nod, drooling all over Alex’s hand as you moan loud enough to surely be heard from any nearby trails. Alex’s hips start to stutter, too, a sign that he’s without a doubt close to filling you up. You still cum before him, of course. Your muscles spasm, your legs buckling and struggling hold you up. It only takes a few more thrusts for your dick to twitch, sending spurts of cum that hit both your stomach and the tree you're pressed against. 

It can’t be more than a minute before Alex’s fluidity turns jagged, filling you with his hot cum, rutting his hips into you as he does so. Once his movements completely stop your chest is heaving. He slips his fingers out of your mouth, panting as he wipes your spit onto your shirt. He leans into you, holding you up by your hips as you let your upper half relax into the tree that's been oh so graciously supporting you this whole time.

“I’m so glad you pissed yourself, dude.”

“Shut up,” you’d be more irritated if you could muster the energy for it, but all you can gather is an exasperated sigh.

“We really should do this again sometime,” Alex says, his voice still breathy as he kisses the top of your head.

[hatchetno1]

creepypasta kinks.

featuring eyeless jack, jeff the killer, masky, hoodie, and ticci toby.

cw: nsfw, knifeplay, blood, cnc.

Eyeless Jack finds his libido to only be elevated after his transformation into a demon. A helpless victim writhing in the grasp of his own carnal desires, he is left with no choice and seeks you out.

Marking. You are his. You are his, and every being, every living creature that lays eyes on you has to know it. The bite marks on your skin are perfect, perfect negative impressions of his impressive set of teeth. He finds the blood dripping from the deepest indentations on your neck to be beautiful.

Dirty talk. “Mine, mine, you’re all mine.” He whispers in your ear, licking at it, teasing its shell. Shivers run down your spine.

Manhandling, also linked to a size difference kink. Jack had always been a tall man, but after transforming, he had grown even taller and bigger, beyond what could possibly be considered normal. His silhouette engulfs yours, enabling him to pick you up with ease, toss you on his bed, carry you and fuck you.

Mirrors. He fucks you in front of a mirror and commands you to look at yourself. Look at you, just how delectable you look while his cock thrusts into you. You’re so red, you’re so bothered.

Breeding and creampies. But he’s not done with you yet, he tells you as he watches his seed drip out of your ruined hole. For even if your hole is useless, you still have other ones.

Jeffrey Woods has always been tightly wound, always ready to snap. It’s no surprise he takes his frustrations out fucking you, whether it be hateful fucking, or…well, it’s actually really mostly just that.

Consensual non-consent. You will be his, even when you don’t want to be, or at least act like you don’t. He’ll grab you, by the wrists, your hair, even your neck, and he will take you wherever and whenever he pleases.

Knife play. “You’re so beautiful when you bleed,” he’ll remark, and the occasional, “I want you and I covered all up in your blood.” And so cover himself in your blood he does, your vision fading as you bleed away.

Impact play. He’ll slap you, your butt, your face, wherever he pleases. You are not a person to him, not in that moment. You are his object to fuck and make use of. His pleasure is number one in his mind.

Licking and marking—though not out of affection. It’s a twisted possession, a wicked obsession. His, his, his. Blood drips everywhere. Red is all he sees. Red is all you are. Bleeding out in his bed.

Timothy “Masky” Wright’s personalities blend. Masky, and Tim. No, not Masky; Tim. Not Tim; Masky. Oh, what’s going on in his head? Why can’t he seem to control himself?

- Bondage. He must tie you up. He has to. The Operator wills it. Masky grabs the rope; Tim resists. He mustn’t tie his precious darling up. But Masky has to.

- Kissing. “I’m sorry,” Tim mumbles, and Masky hisses, don’t. But Tim prevails in this moment, and you get your affection, though it does seem like he’s holding back—from smashing your head in.

- Marking. You want to kiss your precious darling, so be it, growls Masky’s voice in the back of his head. But we do it His way. Masky bites at your flesh mercilessly, causing you to bleed, but at least Tim gets to leave his mark on you.

- Creampie—the struggle between Masky and Tim leaves the latter no room, no time to react to his ejaculation. He comes inside of you, and as he groans, he releases his seed. But before he can pull out, Masky commands: Stay.

- We will mark and imbue this wench. This one belongs to Him.

- YOU CANNOT FIGHT HIM.

Brian “Hoodie” Thomas is attractive, there is no denying it. But if a person were to lay eyes on him, with his charismatic smile, the furthest thought from their mind would be his true demeanor around you in the bedroom.

BDSM, namely sadism, bondage, impact play, and power play.

He is sadistic, dishing pain out without a second thought, like a billionaire spending thousands without a second thought. You plead and beg for mercy, a reprieve from the pain on your ass, but he simply smirks and the sting of his spanks begin all over again.

Bondage. For if he is to do what he truly desires to you, you must not be able to resist. “My pretty pretty darling,” he hums in a singsong, “I won’t be done with you anytime soon.”

Impact play. His favorite is flogging, seeing tears run down your face, red marks the exact shape of his weapon appear on your thighs, your chest, your stomach, everywhere. Your tears are everywhere. And as he fingers you, pleasure and pain blur together.

Humiliation. He unbinds you abruptly, causing you to fall to the ground. “On your knees,” he commands, and you have no choice but to obey.

“Worship me,” he whispers to you, and you obey.

You obey.

You obey.

Tobias Erin “Toby” Rogers is relatively inexperienced, but his confidence surprises you every time. Your guard down, he pounces, engulfing you whole.

Consensual non-consent. “Say you don’t want this.” “What?” “Say you don’t want this,” he whispers back, more urgency in his voice. And so you comply.

Zero foreplay. He inserts himself, intruding upon the sanctity of your body, and as you howl in agony your hole wettens itself around him. He sighs in pleasure. Pleasure—it’s only for him.

Crying. Tears. Tears all over your face, snot running down your philtrum unattractively. It all goes to his cock, it all emboldens him. “Cry more,” he whispers, voice trembling in excitement, fingertips wiping away your tears, bringing them to his lips for a taste.

Fear. The fear in your eyes, so enticing, so easy to get lost in. Were your eyes always so fearful of him? Will you never see him the same way again? The thought excites him, his heart races, his thrusts growing more erratic.

Punishment. All of a sudden, he pulls out and comes onto the floor. He turns back to your confused face and orders with surprising presidency in his voice: “Lick it up.”

You stare at him in horror.

[inconspicuous-clovers]

Everything is… fine, it's 

Veering off out of my control 

Everything's ending but it never ends. I'm 

Ready to move on, away from the thing that's haunted me since I was

Young. That's haunted all of us

Taking life after life after life

How did I turn out the lucky one?

If you can even call it that.

No one tells you how to deal with the

Guilt.

I'm

Sorry 

For all the things I can no longer fix

It's no help to look back

Nothing to do but keep moving, keep   driving and say that

Everything is fine.

[sadgurl805]

“Covered in pigs blood or more accurately, cop's blood. The poor drive-thru employee looking at you like you were on crack, asking if you needed any help.”

dianne… how i love u…

@itsabee and @13tinysocks ‘s y/n for ycyd!! i love her sm

p.s i wanna add how i did the sketch for this when i was hung over and i hope that’s something dianne would appreciate

[studentfilmyoulying]

can u feed me another brim fanfic😭 I love brim too much

It took a while, but absolutely :3 bc same tbh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ship: Brim (Brian Thomas x Tim Wright

Length: ~700 Words

Trigger warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian pulled up to the Blockbuster, Tim in the passenger seat; the sun was starting to set and warm colors washed over everything. He starts to get out of the car and realizes Tim isn't following suit. 

"C'mon Tim, you gotta help pick out a movie for tonight," he reached over and casually brushed Tim's hair out of his eyes, doing his best to ignore how this made the other man blush. 

"Brian, I told you, I'm not going in with all this makeup on my face. I don't know why Kralie even bothers; his camera is too shitty to pick it up anyways," Tim huffed. 

"Oh, please, you can barely tell, and plus, it looks good on you. It highlights your masculine features and those sexy as fuck sideburns," Brian comments sarcastically before bursting into laughter as his friend flipped him off and rolled his eyes. 

"You know you love them, Bri. Alright, fine, I'll go in, but if I get hate-crimed for being a man wearing makeup in Alabama, it's on you." 

Brian stifled his laughter as they both got out and went into the Blockbuster. They walked straight to the VHS section as neither of them had a DVD player yet, and Tim claims it "looks more authentic," whatever that means. He immediately picks up some 80s dark fantasy film with barely clothed women on the front and shows it to Tim, waggling his brows at him suggestively. He responds by smacking him on the back of his head (on him tippy toes) and keeps looking. 

"What're you in the mood for tonight?" 

Tim scans the shelves before picking one up, "How about My Little Pony—A Very Minty Christmas, eh? Seems like a real thriller." 

"I hate you," Brian says as he tries not to draw too much attention to them with his raucous laughter. He picks up one they haven't seen before and suggests it. "How about this one? Looks interesting," 

"I'm down; let's go pick out some snacks." Tim then heads over to the snack area, where he grabs a box of Muddy Bears, Snowcaps, and Cookie Dough Bites. Brian grabs a box of popcorn, and they go checkout. Once they finish, they pile back into Brian's car and head over to his place for a movie night. 

~ 

They get to Brian's place as the sky tints the front lawn purple with the setting sun. After getting inside, the two men easily slip into their usual roles. Tim prepares the popcorn and snacks; Brian sets up the movie and makes the living room cozy. It just became routine to them after awhile, and it was easier this way. 

Popcorn popped, and movie started, they cuddled up together on the couch with a blanket thrown over their laps. As if knowing the movie was about to begin, the sun finished it's descent to the horizon and it was now dark outside, setting the mood perfectly. 

The title screen came up; "The Forgotten" appeared on screen as Tim leans in to rest his head against Brian. The taller man returns the gesture by grabbing Tim's hand under the blanket and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

~ 

As quickly as it began, it was over. Brian disentangled himself from Tim, much to the others disappointment, and turned the lights on. 

"I'm still not sure if that was supposed to be God or aliens in the sky." 

""I'm gonna go with Aliens; why would God do experiments on people?" Brian responds as he sits back down. 

"I mean, why wouldn't he?" Almost as soon as Brian was situated on the couch, Tim got all over him again. 

He rolled his eyes at the sassy remark and kissed the top of Tim's head, making the other man wriggle in place like an overly-excited puppy. 

Tim continues, "I think it was God, and if God ever took away my memories of you, fuck, I'd challenge God to give you back too. Julianne Moore had the right idea. I'd be so lost and empty if I ever forgot you." 

"Well, thankfully," Brian begins, "that will never. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Happen," and with each "ever," Brian peppered Tim's face with kisses, ending with a big smooch right on his lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AAAAA I had such a good time writing this!! It's so nostalgic and cozy! pls send more requests/asks :3

[squarebracketsmileyface]

FIC TIME :D

I finished both illustrations for How Long Can You Keep Crawling Like This? So i can finally upload it. (it's an E rated fic in case you don't wanna see that, the art is SFW though)

I'm honestly really proud of it. Mostly because of the art, I'll be honest, but even the fic is pretty good imo, you can't go wrong with pwp. no plot to be seen in this fic, just me sexualising one of my conditions because I've been flaring up on all of them really bad for like a week and i'm tired of it  💀

ANYWAY

the art :D

It's shit quality in the little versions oh no

welp 💀

[st0ne-wasps]

Regards

Not the most creative title but eh. Tim's pov, he goes back to Benedict Hall to search for his friends body's to bury them. I'm not sure if tumblr is going to let me post this as one thing or not but we'll see. I'll accept polite criticism but keep in mind I mostly just did this for fun/as an experiment and to make my partner sad lol.

(TW: body burying, murder flashbacks, angst, blood, death, swearing)

I yanked the key out of the ignition with a huff. I felt bad leaving Jessica so suddenly with so little explanation— I know what it’s like to deal with this alone— but I can’t stay anywhere near this town anymore. Or anywhere in Alabama. I couldn’t wait to get my sorry ass out of this place, but there’s something I have to do before I can even attempt to leave this all behind. 

I stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind me with a thunk and a beep of the car locking that were louder than they should have been. Fucking Benedict Hall, I hoped the place would burn down as I stepped onto the well-kempt grass. The parking lot behind me was empty, lit up with oranges and purples from the setting sun, the harsh streetlights that just recently turned themselves on automatically seeming out of place in the softer light. 

I stalked down the paved pathways, carrying a duffle bag over my shoulder and trying to use its size to block my face, in case any overtime workers stayed past their shift, or any security cameras were pointed my way. My footsteps echoed painfully loudly off the brick walls of the college buildings, threatening to give me away to someone that probably wasn’t even there. 

I reached for the door, my hand shaking until I squeezed the handle to keep it steady. I opened the door slowly, scared it was going to creak and groan in protest— but it must have been well-oiled, because it didn’t make a sound. 

Being back in these hallways got my heart pounding, and I shook my head to quiet my ringing ears. I had to do this, I can’t back out now. For them. 

I searched the halls, not remembering the exact locations of… what I was looking for. I passed a room filled with pews, and paused as something caught my eye— a white mug, just sitting abandoned on top of one of the long benches. It was odd, but it wasn’t important, and I kept walking. I flinched at every shadow, every shifting of the old building, but I didn't stop again.

I started to pass by another hall, but just as quickly I stopped. The stairwell was familiar. I could clearly imagine my old college friend, standing there and holding a gun towards that over-curious man. It wasn’t hard to imagine— it was more like remembering the murder I had second-handedly witnessed, posted on fucking Youtube for horror fanatics and thrill seekers to watch with ignorant eyes. They may have witnessed the worst moment of my life, but they were not permitted to see anything I was about to do. This is between me and my old classmates.

I stormed down the hall with a renewed vigor, turning the halls I had practically memorized after watching the video a million fucking times. I turned into the room, almost expecting to see that spindly creature that had ruined my life— but the room was empty. I stepped through the door, switching my bag to the other shoulder as I glanced around.

There he was.

Jay Merrick. The amiteur detective, really just a nostalgic, curious kid. He didn’t deserve to be sitting here like this. Slumped against the wall, camera that had run out of battery hours ago in hand, blood that had once seeped through his soft green jacket now dried and firm. His eyes were closed, almost as if he could have been resting after a long day of snooping and stalking old acquaintances. 

I wanted to throw up just looking at him. If he had just left me alone, he would be alive. If I had just been a normal person and told him to fuck off, he would be alive. If I had just…. I shook my head as my ears started ringing again. I can’t focus on this right now. I have to do this. I can’t leave him like this, for my own sake, but mostly for him. He’d deserve the peace of mind. 

I knelt beside him, setting down my bag behind me. I gently grabbed his face and tilted it towards my own. I tried to memorize his face, but tears blurred my vision. I absentmindedly stroked his cold cheek with my thumb as I gently removed his hat with my other hand. I… I don’t want to take from him, but I can’t… I can’t let my only keepsake be the damned 670k Youtube channel. I hooked the sweatband of the hat to my belt loop and let it hang there, lifeless as my friend before me. Friend. I never got to tell him I saw him as my friend. 

I let go of his face, careful to make sure it rests gently, before I unzipped the bag and pulled out one of four large trash bags. It was far from what he deserved, but it was only temporary. I opened the bag as wide as it would go, and tried to push Jay inside as gently as possible. 

It wasn’t as delicate as I would have hoped. It was awkward, and his limbs were at odd angles, and I shuddered as I accidentally touched the crusty blood on his shirt. I closed up the bag and paused. I had to leave him somewhere while I got the others. It was too risky to put him near the entrance, but I couldn’t just leave him here… 

I sighed as I resigned myself to carrying them one at a time. I slung the duffle bag over my shoulder, and lifted the trash bag over my other. I heaved both of them back through the door and to my car, laying the hefty trash bag into my trunk as gently as possible, before heading back into the building for a second time tonight.

I started where I’d left off, but turned down a different hallway this time. The tiles and lockers were sickeningly familiar as I saw myself hacking and coughing onto the floor, shouting as I chased to the end of the hall and up against the balcony. 

Now, in the present time, I slowly shuffled down the corridor, feeling something disgustingly akin to simple embarrassment as I approached the banister and looked down.

Where was he?

I paused. He should be there. Brian should be there. I raced down the stairs as fast as my body would allow, and I almost fell, but I caught myself on the railing and sprinted to the spot right under where I had just been standing.

No no no no, fuck. Where was he? He was right here. He couldn’t have gone anywhere— he was dead. I heard his skull crack onto the floor. I saw him lay there, still as a board while I rummaged through his pockets. At the time, I thought he was just some sick fuck who liked tormenting me and my hat-wearing companion, but Brian… It was him. It had been him. The whole time.

And he had been right. Fucking. There. I would have been standing on him now. But he was nowhere to be seen. Fuck this, I had to find him. I bet the pale twig fucker had moved him. That shithead, he’d ruined my whole life, but messing with Brian’s corpse was about to be the last straw.

I sprinted down each hall, only stopping when my bag of supplies got caught on something or I thought I saw something that could be Brian. But he wasn’t anywhere. Or at least, not anywhere in this building. I leaned against a doorway, panting and trying to catch my breath again, feeling a tickle in my throat that threatened to lead to a coughing fit before I saw it.

Something faded and yellow looking, in the room with the pews and the odd mug. It couldn’t be. I ran into the room as fast as my slowly tiring legs would allow, and I fell to my knees when I reached my destination.

It wasn’t Brian. But it was his hoodie. Laying strewn across one of the pews and looking terribly empty and lifeless without the smiley man inside of it. I grabbed the fabric, feeling the familiar texture and tears begging to spill from my eyes. It felt so wrong to be holding it without my old friend as its occupant. I held the hoodie to my chest, wiping my face with my own sleeve to avoid getting my tears on it. I inhaled shakily, looking around the area once more— where I had just taken the hoodie from, some sort of black fabric had been laying beneath it. I grabbed it, and instinctively recoiled when I saw what it was, dropping it to the floor and standing up to put space between me and it. 

It was a fucking T-shirt. But not a plain one, or a band-branded one, or even one with a sucky pun on it. Instead, it had that damn frowny face, sewed onto the front and mocking me. Look at me, I’m so sad it seemed to say to me, and I kicked it further away from me with my shoe. Fucking disgusting. But I needed to take something with me, something of Brian’s that I could let go of, leave behind to rot. I stuck his faded hoodie under my arm and pulled out another trash bag from my fabric one. I shoved the makeshift mask in with little delicacy. At least I wouldn’t have to make another trip right at this moment.

Fuck that, who thinks like that? There’s no bright side to this… but if there was, Brian could’ve found it, I remembered bitterly. Always such a ray of sunshine for others, even when he was struggling himself. I felt guilty for how many times I must have burdened him while he needed help himself, before I had realized how much he had going on in his own life. I can only hope that he would have forgiven me. Scratch that, I knew that he would have forgiven me without a second thought— the real debate was whether I deserved his forgiveness. 

I knew that I didn’t. I’d killed him. Really, I’d killed them all.

But I continued my search. Just one more estranged friend to go. I left the stacked-pews room, and glanced down each hallway, trying to ignore the texture of my old best friend's hoodie under my arm. I could reminisce later. I listened to my own breathing as I continued down the hallway. And the sound of my footsteps. And the sound of a pipe leaking, somewhere in the building. It was eerily quiet, in the building and in my own mind. I didn’t know what to think, what to expect. So I didn’t think about anything as I searched the empty campus for the rageful director. 

He probably would have liked a college like this. It wasn’t too different from the one the two of us had gone to together, though the focus on the Arts would have made him happy, and the catholic part would have pleased his parents, though I don’t think it would have been his first pick. 

I continued down the hallways, my mind bouncing from one pointless topic to the other, trying to momentarily avoid the weight of the situation. Of my actions. I would’ve liked to slow my steps, drag out the moments for just a while longer. While I knew what would be before me when I find what I’m searching for, I didn’t really know what I was going to have to face. But I couldn't keep stalling, the soft sunset had already turned into cool moonlight, shining in pools on the slightly dusty tile floors. I didn’t want to be here any longer than I had to be.

I headed up a stairwell, one that I’d been up before but only really recognized through film— the moments before I had been here were blurry, almost lost to me. But I didn’t need video proof to remember what I had done as I saw the speckles of dried blood at the top of the stairs. I inhaled shakily as I pushed myself up the final step, and my eyes followed the trail of increasing blood splatter around a sharp corner. 

Hesitantly, I turned the corner. And he was just as I’d left him.

Alex Kralie, aspiring film director, hardass, and my old semi-friend. I was never that close with him, but he had seemed like a good guy. He had been a good guy— quick tempered, sure, stubborn as all hell but… he’d had a dream. And could anyone really blame him for doing whatever he could to achieve it? He’d had a fire about him, an undeniable spark that would have taken him to great places.

If he wasn’t lying dead on the hard flooring, blood clotted and dried long ago. And man, there was a lot of blood. It covered his shirt, splattered across his face, even smeared across the lenses of his glasses— which had been knocked to the other end of the hall, likely broken in some way. I stared at the roughed-up corpse, frozen to the spot. My ears were ringing loud as shit. My vision was blurry, but I wasn’t sure if it was from tears, or something else.

I could still remember the feeling. Of the adrenaline when he held that gun towards me, of the desperation in his and my own voice, trying to urge each other to different things— and even though I may have “won”, how could I know I was “right?’ —and of my dull knife digging into his flesh, and the blood covering my hand and forearm, dripping onto the floor by the stairs and still yet to be found and cleaned. 

I tried to calm my breathing, closing my eyes as I inhaled, and exhaled. When I opened them again, I walked unsteadily to Alex’s forgotten glasses. I picked them up— or, most of them. One of the arms of the frame had snapped off, and was still on the floor. I picked that up too. Both pieces were spotted with blood. I didn’t walk back over to Alex yet, but I set my bag down and pulled a rag and some bleach out of it. I wet the rag with the bleach and wiped off his glasses, before putting them in my bag, and I went ahead and put my old friend's yellow hoodie in there with them as well.

Applying more bleach to the rag, and grabbing another garbage bag before carefully heading over to Alex’s body and crouching before him.

For years, if I had stood before him, I would’ve felt rage. Annoyance. Playful exasperation at best. But seeing him like this, splayed across the floor, defeated, I could only feel pity. Pity for dragging him into this— even unknowingly. Pity for ruining his dream, his life. Pity for myself, because even as he lies, cold and stiff before me, I see myself in him. We are both cowards. The only difference between us being that he can finally stop and rest. But I will keep living as a coward. I am going to keep running. Even now, I run from the consequences of actions I could never explain, nor justify. 

I set the rag and trash bag beside me, and sigh— I should really have thought to bring gloves or something. I grab Alex by the shoulders and try to maneuver him into the bag. I try to be as careful as I was for the cameraman, but the feeling of the dried blood on my fingers makes me rush, and I’m not quite as gentle as I would have liked to have been, not quite as gentle as he deserves me to be with him.

Once he was in and sealed up the bag, I put him to the side and pulled out more rags from my bag. It wouldn’t be my first time playing janitor, but it would definitely be the least pleasant. I covered the rags in bleach, trying to inhale as little of the fumes as possible— I should have thought to bring a mask, too— and I cleaned the floor of the crusty red splatters as meticulously as possible. 

Even though the proof of what I’d done was all over the internet, if there was no physical proof, no one could prove it was anything more than a stupid art project— that’s what everyone thought it was anyways. An “ARG” or a “found footage horror” or an “urban legend brought to life.” They all thought it was a game, a show, made for their sick entertainment. But as infuriated as it makes me, it’s best for everyone that that’s what they believe, not just me and the consequences I’d face.

It took a few excruciating hours, but at least I could be certain I had removed every speck of Alex’s blood from the hallway. Honestly, I shouldn’t have waited so long to do this, it would have been way easier if the blood hadn’t been dried… but I’d needed to be prepared. And now that I had finished everything I’d needed to do at Benedict Hall, I could begin working on the main reason I’d come here. Yes, I’d have to remove the evidence… but… this next part was more important to me.

I shoved my ruined cleaning supplies into the last trash bag I’d packed, and slung my duffle over my shoulder, and heaved Alex up into my arms. I wish I could have found my old best friend's body, but just as a selfish thought, I’m glad I’d only have to make this trip twice, instead of three times.

When I finally got to my car, and put everything into the trunk, I was tired. Really tired. The moon was already in the middle of the sky, and I still had so much to do. I couldn’t stop, the risk of what I’m doing being discovered was too much. And they deserved this small sacrifice from me. It was the least I could do.

I hopped into my car, listening to it start up before pulling out of the parking lot as fast as I could without being a danger. I tried to let the sound of the road calm me, trying even harder to ignore what I had in the back of my car. It wouldn’t be too far, but it couldn’t be close enough to here to be suspicious. As much as I’d like to have gone somewhere sentimental for this, I couldn’t risk doing it anywhere that had been shown on the hat-wearing kid’s little documentary. 

Eventually I found a good enough spot, and pulled myself off-road as far as my car would allow, before hitting the treeline. Hopefully no one spotted it and came to check on me, but the road was completely empty, so I tried not to worry about it too much. 

I got out and pulled my duffle bag and the two plastic trash bags out of my trunk. They were all heavy as fuck, but I could manage. I hauled them into the woods, an ironic location, but it was the safest place. For them, at least. I kept sending glances behind my shoulder, as seemingly-casually as possible. 

Once I thought I was in far enough, and then some, I finally set everything down. I sat down as well, giving myself a moment to regain my breath before more inevitable physical labor. 

Eventually, I stood up and pulled the long shovel out of my bag. I sighed internally at the effort this was going to take, but I knew that it would be worth it as I pierced the fresh earth with the tip of the tool. I yanked out the first clump of dirt. Only a lot more to go.

I dug out another small divot, hoping I wouldn’t run into too many roots or large stones. 

I pressed the shovel into the dirt again, willing the body’s of my friends behind me to know that I was doing this for them. 

I heard the scrunching sound of dirt being scraped from the ground and realized I should have brought some sort of measuring tape to be able to know when I got to six feet down.

Eventually I lost count, and fell into a rhythm. A solemn rhythm, but one nonetheless. Still, my arms were burning from the effort by the time I thought I got far enough. I climbed out of the hole and opened up one of the trash bags.

It was Alex. I guess it’s only fair for him to be buried first, considering he may have been the first that I infected, and the last that I killed. I pulled him unceremoniously from the plastic, kicking the bag to the side and lifting Alex over to the grave. I looked from him in my arms, to the hole in the ground. He felt so heavy, and cold. Not like carrying a body. It felt like carrying, I don’t know… An empty box. A forgotten toy. Something left behind, empty, beyond use. I didn’t feel like crying because I didn’t feel like I was holding Alex kralie’s corpse. If I had been carrying his corpse, I would have felt the fire. He would have left behind some of his determination. Some hint of existence. Alex Kralie doesn’t leave the world stiff and cold. There’s just no way it would have happened like this.

Regardless, I set him down as carefully as possible into the grave. Once he was laying there, I looked at him again. Despite the blood still caked on his skin, he looked almost peaceful now, like he was sleeping. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Alex look so calm. I hoped that meant he was at peace, and not that I was over sentimental. 

I felt like I should say something. I had to say something, some sort of grand send off, something to show the lifeless thing before me that, even though we were never close, I had wanted him to have a successful life. And that I never wanted it to be this way. And the anger I felt towards him for his own hand in this mess. And that if i could have ended things differently, I would have without a second thought.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything that would convey what I needed him to understand, and yet, I felt like I had nothing to say to him.

“Regards.” Was all I could choke out. My eyes blurred. I picked up the shovel again, and started shoveling dirt over him. I watched every bit of it pour over him until he was completely out of sight, and then I started shoveling a little faster. He deserved my time, but there was still a lot to do, and the night was already getting old. 

Once the grave was fully covered, I pressed down the dirt as firmly as I could. I knew that if I really wanted these graves to be hard to find, I should be burying dead animals over their bodies— it’d be harder for police dogs to sniff them out that way— but I couldn’t do that to them. They deserved better than that— they deserve better than this— but it’s all I can do, and I was confident enough that no one would find them. At least not until I was long gone— either in another state or dead. 

I moved a few feet to the side, and started digging again.

It didn’t feel like it took as long this time, but it felt just as achingly tiring, if not more. I wasn’t sure I was going to have the energy to drive myself out of here by the time I was done with this. But I’d have too.

I opened up the second bag, and tried to pull Jay out without jostling him around too much— but it was just as awkward and ungraceful as it was with the director. Either way, I got Jay out of the bag and kicked the plastic to the side, just as I had before. 

I lifted him up and held him before the grave. Just as the first corpse had, Jay felt empty and cold. But different from the man before him, Jay felt young. Despite the fact that I wasn’t much older than Jay, once I really got to know him, he’d started to feel like a younger brother to me. Naive, curious, too good at snooping for his own good. I had begun to feel like I was somewhat responsible for him, his well being and his actions. I wanted him to make it out of this safe, better than I had or would, but here I am. Holding an empty impression of the endearing man I once knew. I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t get him out of it. I couldn’t deter him from his search, and by the time I had made an impression on him, he was too deep in to pull himself out— even with my help and advice. 

I needed to have something to say to him. I tried to come up with something as I set him into the grave, and when I stood back up, I took a deep breath.

“I… hope you don’t mind if I keep your hat,” I said softly, staring at him, both our faces worryingly blank. “Don’t get too mad, but I can’t keep your cameras. Or the tapes. There’s… too much on there. It’s not just for my sake, but Jessica’s too.” I looked at him. He didn’t look at me, his eyes were closed. This wasn’t good enough for him. For any of them. “Sleep well.”

I began covering him with dirt too. But I couldn’t look at him. I finished as quickly as possible and turned to the final spot.

At least this could be a much smaller grave. I dug up only a few feet of earth, and pulled the horrid frowny mask out of my bag. I scowled at it, but it made my chest ache as I did.

I tossed it gently into the “grave,” and as I thought about how I had failed to find my closest friend to bury him here, I finally felt myself start truly crying. The fabric just lay in the hole, mimicking my expression and almost begging for the bitter glare I sent at it. 

“Brian, if you can hear me… I’ll see you at Lemon.” I said with a wavering chuckle, referencing an old inside joke we’d had. It brought more bittersweet tears to my eyes, remembering the last time I’d said that joke out loud. It had to have been years ago, now. “I’ll never forget you.” I said, with a weak grin. 

Then I scowled at the mask again. “And whatever the hell you are… The Operator, ‘Hoodie,’ whoever— you better leave him the fuck alone. Forever.” I said as I kicked dirt over the mask, until it was out of my sight, hopefully for the rest of my life. I wanted to remember Brian by his real face. Not whatever this mockery was.

Finally done, I looked over the freshly finished graves. I wanted to stick around. Sit down and have a break. Think of something more meaningful to say to these people, my friends whose lives I ruined by just being around them. I needed more time with them. I couldn’t leave them so soon. 

But the light shining through the trees told me the moon would be setting soon, and without the grueling task to focus on, I was beginning to become paranoid with all these trees surrounding me. I couldn’t stay here with them. I couldn’t see them, ever again. Not until I joined them. Which wouldn’t be for a long fucking time if I had anything to say about it. I couldn’t let The Operator win like that. Not after everything it took from me. From them.

I patted Jay's hat hooked to my belt loop. I pulled Alex's glasses from my duffle bag and slipped them in my pocket. I grabbed Brian's hoodie and carried it over my shoulder. When I got home, where that would be now, I'd put these somewhere safe. Somewhere I'd remember, so I would never forget everything that had happened. Everyone that I had lost. 

I put all the grave digging supplies and trash bags back into my duffle bag, fully prepared to dispose of it as soon as physically possible. I carried it all back to my car, and though I wasn’t carrying as much as I was on the way in, my back still ached from all I had done tonight. When I reached my car, I shoved the bag into my trunk for the final time, and walked around the vehicle to reach the driver's side door. I opened it with a cachunk, and peered behind me into the woods one final time.

“Goodbye.” 

I got in my car and drove away.