to---the---ark - Tumblr blog

[to---the---ark]

Local hooded man being a menace.

Regards,

[Redacted]

[to---the---ark]

I'm sorry boys, for the dirty night clown.

Regards,

[Redacted]

[to---the---ark]

I'm in the middle of rewriting "GO TO SLEEP chapter II - The Cruelty", aka the second chapter of my own reboot of Jeff The Killer, originally wrote in 2015.

Here's the introduction with the already posted chapters linked on the bottom.

Anyway.

My Jeff was 14 in 2015, now, in 2024, he's 22, and believes himself to be innocent for the death of his bullies.

And when adults leave you alone with people like Randy, are you really guilty if you kill him for self defense? Is still self defense when you hunt down and kill Randy's friends in the a few minutes later?

The line between innocent and murderer can be extremely blurry in certain situations, and sometimes you can tell one from another by answering a single question: did you enjoy ending those Lives?

-

Regards,

[Redacted]

-

[to---the---ark]

GO TO SLEEP

chapter I - The Pride

-

Jeff was the first one to enter their new house.

He was excited to start a new Life, despite how difficult it was going to be to leave his very small friends group behind.

He wasn't going to miss the bullies, that was for sure, and he truly hoped that his new school had a decent policy about bullies and other kind of discriminations.

He was 14, and he was stupidly hopeful, after all.

Him and his brother Liu, who was 15, both ran upstairs, excited to finally have separate bedrooms.

They had a very deep bond, and everyone knew in their hometown that where there was one of them, there was going to be the other too. Despite that, they were happy to finally have more privacy and more room for their things and hobbies, especially Liu, who loved doing big Lego constructions that used to occupy both his and Jeff's desks, pissing the younger off more than once.

Jeff choose the bedroom with a big glass wall. Enormous red curtains were on both side of the glass wall, and the sun was settling down, gifting the bedroom with the last bit of light it could give.

There was an big bed, with a naked mattress his dad had put up before the party, some shelves, and a dark wooden floor that perfectly balanced the white walls of the bedroom.

Jeff laid down on the bed after putting on it all the blankets and pillows it needed, and closed his eyes.

He was tired, moving wasn't an easy thing to do, even if him and Liu had stayed to their paternal grandparents while their parents moved their things in the new home. Everything was still in their boxes, and the kids were more than eager to take everything out.

"A job for tomorrow me, tho" the boy thought.

Suddenly, a weight fell upon him.

«Wha- Liu! Get off of me, you jerk!» Jeffrey grumbled, but he couldn't stop himself from starting a tickling fight with his brother, like they used to do when they were little kids.

«No- that's unfair- Jeff, I'm warning you, stop or else-» Liu shouted between a laughing fit and another.

«Or what?» Jeff laughed, now on top of his brother, tickling him mercilessly.

«Jeff, Liu, come down here, boys!» Margaret called.

The two kept poking at each other's sides while going downstairs. Jeff's long black hair was a mess, Liu's brow hair was short and messy too.

Jeff shouted a laugh when Liu blocked him against the wall to be able to tickle him properly before running off, reaching Margaret.

She looked at her sons, blue eyes stern: «Oh, babies, aren't you two too old to play like this?»

Her gaze softened when she returned to look at the woman at the front door.

Obviously.

She was always like that.

Always scolding them for acting like the kids they were, always looking like a saint in front of the public eye.

The title of "perfect family" had been earned like that, after all.

«This is Barbara» Margaret said, introducing her sons to the woman. «She's out neighbor. Barbara, those are Liu and Jeff. My husband isn't here right now, but you'll meet him when we'll drop the kids off at the birthday party, don't worry!»

«What birthday party?» Jeff asked.

«See this little one?» Barbara said, pointing at a child hiding behind her chubby body, hands gripping her floreal dress. «He's my son Billy, and in a week I'll throw him a birthday party. You two are invited, it'll be the perfect occasion to meet the other kids of the neighborhood!»

«That's such a lovely idea, Barbara, thank you so much!» Margaret smiled, adjusting her brown hair in a high chignon.

Jeff's blue eyes met Liu's green ones.

"Oh, please, no" the both of them thought.

Peter Woods came home just a few minutes after Barbara and Billy had returned to their own home, and after a while the whole family sat at the dinner table, praying before eating the take-away Chinese food Peter bought home, since their fridge was pretty empty.

When Margaret informed Peter about the birthday party, Liu spoke up in the behalf of both himself and Jeff: «Can we not go to that party, please?»

«Yeah, we're not- what, 7? We're too old to play with toys and stuff like that.»

«You acted like toddlers right before meeting Barbara» Margaret said. «You're going.»

«Dad? Please? Can we not go?» Jeff asked.

Peter, with his green eyes fixated on his food, scratched his black hair with a hand before answering: «You're going, and you need to make a good first impression.»

The two boys huffed, knowing full well that they weren't going to win this over.

Good first impression were too important for their parents, and they never had a say on that. They could only act as the perfect kids of a perfect family, and hope that the party wasn't going to be too boring.

A few days later, Jeff stretched his arms, still hiding in the comfort of his blankets.

The house was quiet, the birds were chirping outside of his window... and Liu opened the door, looking as tired as him, and took the blankets away.

«Why. Liu, tell me why» Jeff muttered. He wasn't a morning person and he was often in a bad mood before eating breakfast.

Liu gave him the finger and silently went downstairs.

Jeff rolled his eyes, and got up.

He wore his favorite outfit: an old white hoodie, black converse and black jeans. He was going to go to his and Liu's first day at their new school, and he wanted the comfort of some beloved clothes, since his shyness could lead to social anxiety, if he felt over stimulated.

But of course, his parents couldn't let him have that.

«Jeff, go take that hoodie off, wear the white flannel instead» Margaret said.

«But- but mom! It's just school!»

«Good impressions matter, son. Don't you agree, Peter?» Dad muttered an agreement, eyes on the TV. He never really talked with his wife, important things aside, after all. «See? Dad agrees too. Go change, honey.»

He did so, his mood worsening my the moment.

He sat at the table beside his brother, and they started eating breakfast... until mom commented on how much weight he was going to gain for eating that much.

He rolled his eyes, and he sighed.

The perfect kid eats just what he needs to survive, and in the Woods's house eating was just something you did to keep living.

Perfect, right?

Right.

Always right.

The Woods brothers finally got out of the house, and they went to the bus stop at least 30 minutes in advance.

«I think Jane would like you, especially dressed like a church baby boy» Liu joked, trying to lighten up Jeff's mood while they sat down on the sidewalk.

«Who the fuck is Jane?»

«She's one of our neighbors. She should be your age, or maybe mine, I don't know» Liu answered. «Oh, here she is!» he said, pointing at a girl looking at them from her bedroom's window. Liu and the girls exchanged a wave of their hands.

The brothers' conversation was interrupted by a skateboard almost hitting Liu on the head, and the laughters of three other boys.

«Oh, hey, guys, sorry for that!» the skater said.

Liu recognized the boy, and also the two sidekicks he had by his sides, and all three of them were wearing clothes with a mimetic fantasy and were on a skateboard.

The boy who spoke was Randy, he had dark brown hair, strong features, a slightly crooked nose, and his eyes hid behind sunglasses. On his left there was Keith, the shorter of them, with blue eyes and red hair. The last one was Troy, brown hair and eyes, a little bit on the plus size.

The last two were the kids of Randy's dad's closest coworkers, and Randy's dad was the richest motherfucker in town, so the boys always felt superior to anyone, and it didn't matter how bad the troubles those three 16 years old got into were, their dads were always going to save their ass.

Pride was thick in Randy's voice: «You must be Jeff and Liu, nice to meet you» Randy said, without even caring about introducing his sidekicks. «Since you're new here, I just wanted to introduce myself.»

-

[Introduction]

[chapter II - The Cruelty]

[to---the---ark]

I wrote my own version of Jeff The Killer in 2015, and despite loving this version I dropped him.

There's a new Slenderverse project that's about to start, it's called Blessed Be The Wicked, and here's the trailer, here on Tumblr you can find two the creators, @official-locke-writing and @anton-morrow (Tumblr is being stupid and doesn't allow me to tag, like it doesn't allow me to put a link at the first try, smh) and their Jeff is the reason I'm handling my own Jeff once again.

I'm grateful for them and their amazing job.

I hope you'll like my Jeff, and how much my autistic ass was fixated on studying Christianity in 2015, despite being pagan.

Regards,

[Redacted], in art Shetani Bonaparte

---

-

The Woods were the perfect family.

Margared was the perfect wife and the perfect mom, always so sweet and caring, always so lovely with her boys.

Peter was the perfect husband and the perfect dad, always so romantic with his wife, always by his sons' sides.

Liu and Jeff were the perfect kids, always good at school, always so respectful and obedient.

They all did charity work together, and were sitting in first row at church every Sunday.

The Woods were a very religious family, after all, and it wasn't rare for Jeff and Liu to be involved in some church activities during the week, or during the summer break.

And that day, the four of them posed for the camera, among their family and friends, in front of their newly bought house, ready to start a new Life in a new city.

The photographer smiled at the results of her skills: the perfect photo of the perfect family.

But all that perfection can cause idolatry, and idolatry only leads to destruction.

-

[chapter I - The Pride]

[chapter II - The Cruelty]

[chapter III - The Idolatry]

[to---the---ark]

Hold and behold- I actually wrote about this.

Despite the title, this isn't necessarily romantic, even if I'm a Brim shipper you can read it as platonic too. But... y'know, pick the version that makes you feel the angst the most. :)

Hope you'll like it!

Regards,

[Redacted]

-

MY HEART BETWEEN YOUR HANDS

«Bad day, huh?» Brian murmured.

Tim nodded to his best friend. Brian had always been able to read him like an open book, and that had scared Tim a lot, at the start of their friendship, a couple of years ago... but then Brian had seen Tim at his worst, and had embrace that part of him with a welcoming smile.

Tim let out a trembling breath.

The minutes after a seizure were the worst.

His muscles were tired, his brain foggy, and he was pretty sure he was about to have a panic attack too, now, because he felt like he was dying.

Maybe it was the desperation.

Maybe he was just so tired of the consequences of his awful childhood.

«Hey, breathe with me» Brian gently said, sitting on the floor beside him.

Without thinking much, the blondish man passed a hand through Tim's messy hair, went down, wiped a silent tear away from his cheek... and Tim melted.

His mind went quiet. The bothering sensation that always picked at his skin was calming down, Brian's hand shooting it.

When was the last time Tim had been touched so gently?

He barely remembered it. His little hands gripping a pastel blue dress, his mother's voice talking with a doctor. It was the last time he had seen his mother.

So many years ago...

After years of being manhandled only to be dragged in his bedroom and locked in there, Tim had grown to never rely on physical contact to express affection.

But now...

Now Brian's free hand was on the other side of his head, he was cupping Tim's face, a thumb rubbing soothing circles on his cheek.

«You good?» Brian asked.

Tim opened his eyes - when did he close them? -, nodded slowly, and slurred out a little "sorry".

«Come here, buddy» Brian murmured, getting more comfortable against the wall of their college dorm. He pulled Tim in a tight hug, and the shorter man once again melted, muscles relaxed, putty between Brian's hands. «Everything's fine, Tim. You'll be fine.»

-

The shame had kept him from asking for more hugs for months. After a long talk, Tim had still found it difficult to talk, to ask relief for his touch starvation.

Brian had decided to take the matter in his own hands, so he had started to initiate contacts with his buddy.

A comforting squeeze on his shoulder, brushing their arms together while walking, leaning on him while sitting together...

Now things were a little bit different.

Now they had their respective apartments, Tim talked a little more, and he opened up a bit about his childhood - what he remembered about it, at least.

And now, while comfortably sitting on the couch's corner, Tim opened his arms. He wasn't vocalizing his needs, but he was still asking for help. This was a first.

Brian hid his surprise to not spoil the moment, and, like he had started to do, he just threw himself on the top of the other man, hugging him.

«Hello!» he said with a silly grin.

«Idiot» Tim laughed, cheecks a little red.

«This idiot is the star of a movie, don't forget it!»

«Oh, yeah, great movie, Mr. Loop Of Unhappiness!»

«Hey! That's the most iconic line!»

They laughed, and a cozy silence fell between them. They stayed like that for a while, the tv on, barely paying attention on what was on the screen.

Brian was supposed to get up after a while: «I don't wanna go.»

«Get up» Tim said, poking his side. «You're the movie's star, like you wanted me to remember. So now go and do your job!»

«But Alex is being an isteric chihuahua, I don't wanna go to that damn park with him» he lamented.

But he still got up.

Still went.

That hug was the last hug they shared as Tim Wright and Brian Thomas.

-

The fact that Tim wasn't at fault for being persecuted by The Operator was unfairly easy to forget.

Hoodie didn't feel bad about taking his pills. He had been doing that for some months, but he never took the last bottle of pills until now.

He thought about it for a moment. He knew Tim needed those pills, but- but he was so angry at the poor man. So bitter, so-

It wasn't fair!

Brian had a bright future ahead, he had big dreams, but now- was he still Brian? Was he still Brian, with that mask on, without a future and with a past that kept slipping between his fingers like sand? Was he still Brian when he barely recognized himself as such anymore?

And whose fault was that?

His anger was directed at Tim.

Especially today, after Jay interviewed said man. "I haven't heard from Brian either" Tim had the audacity to say, and Hoodie was so angry, because Tim had given up on looking for Brian, dammit! "Not for quite awhile, actually."

So.

Hoodie grabbed that last bottle of pills, and felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, as if he was getting a little revenge.

But that sense of satisfaction was short lived, because a few hours later, the fact that Tim was a victim too become painfully easy to remember.

That plastic mask was the last thing Brian would've wanted to see on Tim's tired face, if only he had knew what was going to happen during the making of a stupid college movie. And maybe Brian wasn't totally gone, not for real, because the hooded man approached the masked one, and muttered what he wanted to be comforting words, but came out as riddles and codes.

Masky pushed him away, forcefully.

Hoodie insisted, held that face between his hands, thumb adventuring under the mask, trying to rub soothing circles on that touch starved skin.

Masky stilled for a moment.

That hungry skin was always going to recognize Brian's gentle touch, always going to welcome it, to crave it. But thick gloves were covering those hands, and the masked man's altered emotions didn't even have the chance to register the familiar gestures.

Hoodie was pushed away once again, this time more forcefully, and the other's body language told him that a fight was going to happen if he kept touching him.

Was Tim still Tim, if he refused his touch?

-

The hotel room was silent, dark, the only light being the little red dot signaling that the camera pointed at Jay was recording.

Tim's skin was on fire, had been for ages now, but he refused to let people get too close, even physically. With Jay around it was difficult to not look for some contact, tho.

Especially now.

Tim was in his own bed, pretending to sleep. Maybe he was too good at that, because Jay felt free to cry.

Quiet sobs, face pressed against the pillow.

«I'm sorry, mom, I miss you» he whispered, voice so low that Tim barely heard it. «I forgot your face, I'm sorry.»

Jay's silhouette was trembling.

Tim wanted to just join him in his bed and to hug him. To hold him close, to comfort the both of them.

He missed Brian, but Brian had been his best friend, his cuddle buddy, and now- now he was gone. Had been gone for who knew how long. Brian had got too close to Tim, and Wright couldn't allow Jay to get too close too, he was already damaged, already broken.

Tim also couldn't handle another monumental loss.

Couldn't remain all alone.

So he closed his eyes, chest tight and skin on fire, heart breaking and tears silently running down his face.

-

Brian had been there the whole time.

Now he was gone for real.

Jay was gone too.

It was all his fault.

Tim sighed while driving towards Jessica's hotel.

He got used to his skin being starved, got used to ignore it.

Brian's hands were something both painful and nice to remember. His tired mind seemed to hallucinate them as a way to cope, now. Soft rubs on his shoulder blades, a bump on his arm while walking lost in thoughts, a gentle hold on his face whenever he couldn't stop the tears from falling...

It was such a bliss, to feel those familiar arms around himself, until he was lucid enough to know that Brian was gone...

Tim sighed again, and he murmured a blatant lie to himself: «Everything's fine.»

I'm touch starved, and now I'm thinking about Tim.

He spent all his childhood being terrified by a faceless creature and then locked in his hospital room by doctors. He was a kid who needed to be listened and believe to, but only got drugged up and locked in a damn room.

Then in college he met Brian.

Brian isn't seen much on screen, but all his actions in the serie, and the comic book special "Issue 3.5 - ToTheArk" speak volume: he loves his friends and he loves deeply.

Do you think Tim melted the first time Brian hugged him?

Do you think he realized how touch starved he really was? How burning his skin seemed to be, and how much relief Brian's hug was giving him?

Do you think Tim felt ashamed of that? Do you think he thought of himself as too clingy, or too needy? Do you think about all the times he probably cried alone in his bed, because he was loved for the first time ever but didn't dare to go ask Brian for even an half hug? Just an half hug, a quick one, he could've been happy with some pats on the shoulder, even when he really needed the grounding weight of someone lying on top of him.

Do you think he ever got embarrassed about those thoughts? About those needs?

Do you think Brian managed to make Tim spill the beans? And if so- do you think Brian started to just lay on his best friend whenever Tim got too fidgety, or too anxious?

Do you think Brian learned how to ground Tim with physical touch to help him after an episode, or after a seizure?

When Brian disappeared, do you think Tim got to force himself to ignore his touch starvation like he used to before Brian? Do you think he cried and shook, his skin on fire, his breath irregular, his mind racing?

When he finally understood the truth about The Operator being something real, Tim surely got scared of infecting everyone else.

Do you think he forced himself to keep quiet?

Do you think Hoodie ever tried to hug Masky, to calm him through a gentle touch, only to be smacked away? Do you think the negative emotions and the anger Masky felt were somehow sad too?

When Tim got closer to Jay, do you think he ever got the temptation to hug him?

And Jay, our young man who just wanted to help, got turned into an angry individual, maybe a little lost, and surely scared, but also so courageous or simply too far gone to stop. Do you think he ever wanted the comfort of a friendly hug?

Do you think Tim wished he could hold Jay close and relaxed, before losing him? Do you think Tim felt something familiar while looking for his own things in the pockets of a still Hoodie? When Alex showed him Brian's corpse, do you think Tim wanted to just crawl over there and take his best friend between his arms, squeezing him in a comforting way?

Do you think Tim hallucinated those college night, with those familiar arms wrapped around him?

[to---the---ark]

I'm touch starved, and now I'm thinking about Tim.

He spent all his childhood being terrified by a faceless creature and then locked in his hospital room by doctors. He was a kid who needed to be listened and believe to, but only got drugged up and locked in a damn room.

Then in college he met Brian.

Brian isn't seen much on screen, but all his actions in the serie, and the comic book special "Issue 3.5 - ToTheArk" speak volume: he loves his friends and he loves deeply.

Do you think Tim melted the first time Brian hugged him?

Do you think he realized how touch starved he really was? How burning his skin seemed to be, and how much relief Brian's hug was giving him?

Do you think Tim felt ashamed of that? Do you think he thought of himself as too clingy, or too needy? Do you think about all the times he probably cried alone in his bed, because he was loved for the first time ever but didn't dare to go ask Brian for even an half hug? Just an half hug, a quick one, he could've been happy with some pats on the shoulder, even when he really needed the grounding weight of someone lying on top of him.

Do you think he ever got embarrassed about those thoughts? About those needs?

Do you think Brian managed to make Tim spill the beans? And if so- do you think Brian started to just lay on his best friend whenever Tim got too fidgety, or too anxious?

Do you think Brian learned how to ground Tim with physical touch to help him after an episode, or after a seizure?

When Brian disappeared, do you think Tim got to force himself to ignore his touch starvation like he used to before Brian? Do you think he cried and shook, his skin on fire, his breath irregular, his mind racing?

When he finally understood the truth about The Operator being something real, Tim surely got scared of infecting everyone else.

Do you think he forced himself to keep quiet?

Do you think Hoodie ever tried to hug Masky, to calm him through a gentle touch, only to be smacked away? Do you think the negative emotions and the anger Masky felt were somehow sad too?

When Tim got closer to Jay, do you think he ever got the temptation to hug him?

And Jay, our young man who just wanted to help, got turned into an angry individual, maybe a little lost, and surely scared, but also so courageous or simply too far gone to stop. Do you think he ever wanted the comfort of a friendly hug?

Do you think Tim wished he could hold Jay close and relaxed, before losing him? Do you think Tim felt something familiar while looking for his own things in the pockets of a still Hoodie? When Alex showed him Brian's corpse, do you think Tim wanted to just crawl over there and take his best friend between his arms, squeezing him in a comforting way?

Do you think Tim hallucinated those college night, with those familiar arms wrapped around him?

-

Edit: I wrote something about it, click here!

[to---the---ark]

Do you think Jay got his fear of being without a camera recording him after losing 7 month of memories?

He didn't post any entry during that time, his previous camera got broken, he didn't know where the chest mounted camera came from.

He didn't remember anything at all, and how terrifying was that?

Was he paralysed by fear, when he woke up in that hoter room?

Did he mourn all those missing months, alongside all the things he had started to forget?

Do you think he cried for his mom? For his family? Do you think he was too scared to call them? Do you think he had living family members he was scared to call, not wanting to pull them in that mess? Do you think he was scared of forgetting passed relatives?

Do you think he was tired of forgetting? Tired of having to keep himself together in fear of losing pieces?

When Tim took away his camera, after using the zip ties to keep him still, do you think Jay got scared of forgetting again? Do you think he resented Tim, who only wanted to protect him?

Do you think he felt gratitude towards Hoodie, when he left him a knife to free himself and a camera recording him?

Do you think Hoodie could relate to Jay's fear, and didn't want him to be so scared?

And in his final moments, do you think Jay was grateful to still be recorded? Do you think he wanted to be remembered even as a dead body?

Or do you think he thought he didn't want his mom to find out like that, to see her baby boy dead and gone in such a tragic and unfair way?

I think about these things a lot, in these days, my memory failing me constantly...

[to---the---ark]

OP, I absolutely love your art and it inspired me to write something.

I also absolutely love art and the painting you referenced here: Sir John Everett Millais' Ophelia always makes me soft, it's such a tragic fanart painting that perfectly captures my favorite character from Shakespeare's Hamlet.

I'm not totally satisfied of it (I'm more used to write from Tim's pov), but I still hope you all will enjoy my little fanfic.

Regards,

[REDACTED]

-

TW: character death, blood, comic books' spoilers (most precisely, this fic happens between Brian's fall and the whole "Issue 3.5 - ToTheArk" volume).

-

OH, TO DROWN FOR LOVE

He had to let go.

Really, he knew he was gonna fall.

Knew he was gonna die.

And he couldn't allow Tim to touch him, to have the chance to think he was a murderer.

So he let go.

It was so easy to do so.

His hands abandoned the wood he was using as leverage, and his whole being just accepted his fate.

It wasn't the first time he died, really.

He was probably gonna be sent to The Ark, and that place was going to torment him, trying to get him to throw himself into its mouth.

He was going to escape again, leaving a piece of himself behind.

But for Tim- for Tim he was willing to die countless of times.

His body slammed on the concrete beneath.

A loud thoud, the sensation of his skull cracking open at the bottom.

Blood starting to drip under his head.

He was barely aware of footsteps getting closer.

Someone looking into his pockets.

He wanted to protest at that, honestly.

The tape.

The audition's tape. The only thing he had always held close, the recording of the last time he and Tim got to be normal college students.

Or- well, the last time he got to be a normal guy.

He was smiling and happy in that tape, he was so happy to just help Alex, and to have dinner with his buddy Tim.

He didn't want to lose that tape.

Memories were such a rare and precious thing, after all.

But he couldn't move.

Couldn't speak.

His mind was starting to feel numb, dizzy.

He felt underwater.

For a moment it was peaceful, his body was light and it didn't hurt.

His head - usually filled to the brim with codes and riddles that even he was able to solve - was quiet, for once.

The first clear thought in years didn't surprise him, not at all: "I don't want to live in a world where he doesn't love me."

And maybe he was simply a twisted version of Ophelia.

Throwing himself down, drowning in his unrequited, obsessive and twisted love.

So much time wasted.

So much pain.

Slowly dying was the nearest thing to a whole night of sleep he was having in who knows how much time.

Maybe it was because he knew that Tim was safe.

Somehow.

Maybe.

So he let himself sink into unconsciousness.

Oh, to drown for love was such a freeing thing...

brian... <3 my hand is cramping haha

[to---the---ark]

You know what, OP?

Everything thing you said?

Especially the Brian x Masky thing? That gives me ideas.

Hope you all will like this little thing, even if it's not 100% accurate with the inspiration.

Regards,

[REDACTED]

-

Tw: implied sex scenes, not described too much but still-

-

THE LOVE OF A DOG

You love like an attack dog, Masky.

A dog licks the hands that feeds him, and you're not any different.

You lick that hand that will give you friendship, a sense of freedom, whatever you need. You lick Hoodie's hand.

But, people usually forget, that tongue of yours is surrounded by sharp teeth.

You remind him of that, sinking those teeth in his pink lips, your masks pushes aside enough to allow aggressive kisses.

He moans, you growl, he tugs on the pretty rope around your neck.

You love like an attack dog.

That rope, that leash is a false symbol of superiority.

Hoodie could yank it, use it to choke you, to control you, he could use it to guide you towards his own gaining and pleasure. He could.

But you're armed with sharp teeth and anger, and you could use the shortness of the leash and the way the man grabs it to turn against him, take him by surprise, bite his throat open. You could.

But you both decided to respect each other's end of the leash, of that blurred line between master and submissive, and you now move around and with it, pushing and poking boundaries to test them, to define them in order to respect them.

He pulls the leash and stops before you choke, you turn around to bite lovely marks on his skin without tasting blood.

He will not let you go, you will not run away.

You will not murder each other.

You love like an attack dog.

But how many owners do you have?

How many leashes pull you?

How many hands do you lick?

How many people get fooled, thinking that those are acts of submissiveness?

How many people are stupid enough to not see the deception, the manipulation?

How many people idiotically don't see your collar as the control you have over them?

Hoodie pulled the leash too harshly, and now you're biting him.

You're an attack dog, he's just the man who likes to pretend he owns you.

He knows he doesn't.

Deep down, he knows you can live without him, and fears the day you'll took off the leash and walk away, that horrible mask still on your face.

That's what makes him so different, probably.

He's your equal, and he knows how much power you really have.

He respects you, playing the dominating part only under the sheets.

You don't have a true grasp on the concept of loyalty, but... but you probably feel something similar towards Hoodie.

It's not really loyalty in its purest form, you know that. You don't leave him for someone else, you don't even think about pulling your end of the leash to threaten him with abandonment even when he makes you mad.

You simply let others think they have a real leash in hand, you just let them feel obeyed to, and you gain whatever bit of knowledge that one day will hopefully allow you to be free.

You never let them think less of Hoodie, you always include him and his opinion in your decisions, without alway letting them know he's also there, by your side.

It's the closest thing to loyalty you can give to him.

You love like an attack dog.

Your loyalty is mainly for yourself, everyone knows that about you.

-

You love like a dog, Tim.

With Hoodie, the leash is in your hand, you're tugging the muzzle so he stays quiet.

He tells you to go down, to sit, and you get in your knees for him.

For you.

A dog putting a leash on himself.

A dog being his own onwner, his own pet.

The leash isn't like the one Hoodie puts on you, no.

Hoodie cherishes your merciless attack, welcomes and begs for the sharp pain of your teeth sinking into his flesh. He prays you to devour lips, like a pill you should never take, you- you know that, but you can't sleep until you devour him whole.

In that self cannibalistic act of freedom and Love, the leash becomes blurry, unstable, it becomes a fight.

He will not run away, you will not let him go.

You will murder each other.

You love like an attack dog.

He asks you to pull the leash, to choke him right there.

You're an attack dog, he's just the man who likes to ignore the fact that you own him.

He knows you do.

Deep down, he knows he can't live without you. He knows every trick up of your sleeve, every way you could use the leash to destroy him whole.

That's what makes him so like you, probably.

He's you, he's the hand choking the dog, he's the dog rebelling against the leash.

When he begs you to kiss him, you bite those thin lips, the same way you like being bite during a kiss.

You move how you like it, you're in control, you can not pretend to be some tool.

You can be your dirty, wild self.

You can be the attack dog who controls every street, everything he wants.

You can be a wolf.

Maybe.

Probably.

You don't have a true grasp on the concept of devotion but... but you probably feel something similar towards Hoodie.

It's not devotion in its sacred form, you know that.

You don't need a leash on to follow him around, and he doesn't need one to give up all he did to build himself a Life up, just for you.

He doesn't need you to protect him, he doesn't need to ask for your service, for your power. He's independent, he's his own owner, and yet he's your dog, and you're his dog, and everything is messy and painful and as sacred as a vandalized church.

You never let people even think he's not important. You have stamps of him everywhere, you show how kind you can be, and you also show to so many people you just like keeping him alive, you like getting his blood on you because it's what dogs like you two get boners for.

It's all the devotion you can give to him, to yourself.

You love like an attack dog, and you get to be loved by an attack dog.

He asks you to maul him with your love.

Begs for you to tore his ribcage apart, to kiss his bloody and beating heart, to destroy him.

You always were prone to self destruction.

The Lord knows, and he knows you're as sacred as the antichrist, as blessed as a Demon.

You know too.

Thirsty, you drink Hoodie's tears, you gulp down the oppressing pain in his heart, you growl words of reassurance to his covered ears because no, you're not going to ruin this, to destroy what you two have, you can't allow him to do so.

You can't unleash him, and he can't turn against you and bite you.

Your devotion comes with the price of silence, with the red angry signs the muzzle leaves behind, reddening his sickly white skin.

-

You love like an attack dog, Masky.

Brian must be awfully easy to train, and the leash is an extension of your arm, it hugs his neck through the collar.

You used to take it off quite often, now you barely keep it on him.

You genuinely don't care about it.

The other man is a guard dog, maybe.

He perceives dangers, warns about them, leaves you to deal with putting said dangers down.

Brian could run away, leave you behind, speak because you didn't put a muzzle on him. He could.

You could force his face down on the floor, pinning him on rocks and soil, water the soil with his blood. You could.

But you both decided to ignore that, to respect the absence of the leash and what it means between you two.

You gently push your side towards his, walking down the street, and he asks you for help.

He asks you to help him feel safe. He needs you, he does, but he doesn't depend on you.

He's his own dog.

He's... someone you don't need to assert your dominance over.

Maybe.

Guard dogs are so weird.

He grabs your hand and pulls you towards a side street.

You're going to spend protect him, to spill the blood of whoever even tries to hurt him, and he'll tease you about it.

You will just agree, without getting angry, without turning on an electric collar to shut the dog up.

He doesn't have a collar on.

Let alone an electric one.

You're not his owner.

It doesn't matter if he follows your lead, if he gets weak at the knees every time you murmur sweet nothings on his ear, voice deep rumbling and tingling, instinctively making him want to let you leash him.

It doesn't matter.

Once it did.

You love like a guard dog, for him.

You bite every hand that tries to feed him rotten treats.

Your friend is a smart man, but he's too good for his own good, sometimes, so you protect him.

You don't have a true grasp on the concept of twin flames, but... but that's probably what's going on between you two.

You know you can do great things with him by your side, and you know he knows.

He doesn't extend his hand for you to lick, and despite everything, he doesn't lick yours, because when you feed him, you're really just sharing some love.

There's something primal inside of you, when you get angry at him and you wish you could put a muzzle on him and kicking him out of your house.

There's the sensation that maybe dogs shouldn't be able to own other dogs, it's something vile, something wrong, and you don't feel comfortable with what you've done in the past, you don't like to think about how you punish rebellion among whose you use.

Brian doesn't need a reminder for the sharp teeth surrounding your velvet tongue.

He knows they're there, and he reminds you he has teeth, too.

You nuzzle against him, once at his home, in his silly little couch, and you let your guard down.

You love like an attack dog.

You get loved by a guard dog.

You can close your eyes, you can enjoy some peace.

He's gently petting your hair, gently brushing them off of your mask, and he tries to be sneaky while taking a silly selfie because you look funny with your face planted on a soft blanket.

You let him believe he's caught you off guard. He did, in a way, you weren't guarding yourself.

You're safe.

And maybe you'll ask him about loyalty and devotion, about pure and sacred.

Maybe he'll answer, he'll tell you all about what he and Tim aren't allowed to have.

Maybe he'll cradle your face between his hands, and he'll beg you to throw away every leash and every collar. Every mask.

Maybe you'll want to listen, and you'll pray to be able to do as he ask, knowing you'll never be free, to give him what he wants.

Because you love like an attack dog, and you've trained yourself so well you'll think it's a shame to let that go.

Maybe you'll stay quiet and without a defense up, and maybe that's what loyalty and devotion really are.

hoody x tim to me is psychological torture (sexual) where they both hate each other so much that they make out after beating each other black and bloody

brian x masky to me is “this is my pet guard dog that will attack you if you come too close. hes also feral and has rabies”

hoody x masky to me is two asocial freaks of nature trying so hard to commit murder yet keep failing because theyre too busy being faggots. also its “i can make him so much worse”

brian x tim to me is if the golden retriever x black cat trope was reversed. (ie. the golden retriever is the sarcastic and mean one and the black cat is constantly trying to keep the other out of jail)

[to---the---ark]

As a socially anxious man who's scared of human interaction, I think I can write something with this.

Edit: it came out a little different than I originally planned but I still hope you all will like it.

Regards,

[REDACTED]

-

WONDER

Tim had always wondered why he got to be Brian's best friend.

Really, that blonde boy befriending him had been like breathing fresh air for the first time in- in ages.

Tim still misses him, still think about him.

He kinda wants to call him, to feel lucky again. He kinda wants to track him down, to hang out together like they used to.

But Brian's phone number is now unavailable, they haven't seen each other in years, Life is erratic and honestly crumbling down to pieces, so Tim just...

Wonders.

He remember a few things about his past.

He remembers college. A little vaguely, yeah, there are blurred faces and missing names.

But he remembers how Brian didn't make a huge deal about Tim's difficulty with socializing. The boy was bright and friendly for the both of them, and tamed Tim into finally allowing himself to be close to someone else.

Tim remembers how scared he had been of ruining something. He doesn't remember how he had got that almost unbearable fear, doesn't remember what had happened to make him so awkward around others, but whatever those things were... Brian had never made him feel judged, or even remotely bad about it.

He would pay all the money in the world to talk to Brian again, now.

His work history is bad.

Embarrassingly bad.

He knows he didn't wake up, one day, and decided to have all those memory issues, he knows he had never wanted the anger, the pain, the suicidal thoughts and ideations.

But he still feels guilty every time he fails at keeping a job.

Maybe this time things will go better. His doctor keeps saying him he's getting better, and it's true: he doesn't forget things anymore, he's starting to function like a normal human being for the first time ever.

The fear of fucking up still haunts him, tho.

Brian would know how to make him laugh and relax before the job interview he's driving to.

What if he makes a fool out of himself?

He remembers that time he had said something idiotic at someone's house. He remembers that the guy was one of Brian's friends, maybe- probably. Brian had a lot of friends back then.

Alex... was that the name? Probably.

Anyway, Tim had to go to the bathroom. Another guy, the cameraman, had just got up from the couch to go to said bathroom, and Tim remembers Brian being all over this dude's dog.

Tim had spent the next hour wondering if it was okay for him to go to the bathroom too. On one hand, he had actively waited for someone to ask to the home owner's permission to use the bathroom, so Tim could knew it was okay to do so, on the other hand he had been left with the fear of being silently accused to imitate the dude with the dog.

Always the fear.

Always the doubt of doing something he isn't supposed to do, of being unable to read the room, unable to understand what socially integrated people usually did.

He had been always a little ashamed of his troubled childhood. He doesn't remember a lot if it, but he knows enough to not wanting people to know, but he remembers that day, he was filled with anxiety because well- he clearly wasn't used to have a group of friends, he clearly had something wrong within.

But were they his group of friends? He wondered that a lot, really.

Deep down he had always wondered if they were Brian's friends, if they just tolerated him because they needed him, or because they loved Brian.

He takes a deep breath.

The traffic is unbearable today, and he truly hopes he's not going to be late to his job interview.

That would be a bad first impression, despite the traffic not being his fault. Luckily, his anxiety always makes him plan to arrive way before the accorded time, so... he should arrive in time, at least.

His mind has all the time to think about all the ways he can embarass himself.

Not that he's as awkward as he uses to be in college. He's now a lot more socialized, he's a lot more confident that he used to be.

The anxiety still exists, tho.

After going to the bathroom, he had returned to his place, sitting on the floor beside Brian. He remembers how anxious he had felt, because what if he had left a bad smell in the house owner's bathroom?

He had tried to distract himself, listening to the conversation Brian's friends were having.

Another one had arrived in the meantime. He had something's script in hand, he was Alex's - yeah, he was pretty sure the name was that - biggest helped with that college project of his.

He had made a stupid observation.

He had criticized a part of the plot. A college movie, yeah, that's what they were doing, and- there was a scene of Brian on a bike, with a man wearing a horse mask behind him.

Yeah, yeah.

Stupid.

But Alex had explained the meaning of the scene, and Tim still didn't really liked it, but the explanation had sense.

He remembers how embarrassed he got.

What if he said something stupid at his job interview?

He thinks about it until he arrives at the place he hopes to be able to work at.

And he remembers how had Brian defended him, that day, because Alex hadn't took well Tim's criticism.

Brian had always been protective of him, always been his rock.

Tim knows he can't live relying on someone else for emotional security. He knows he's an adult, that he should be able to do things in his own.

And he does, of course! He goes to his doctor's appointment, he looks for a new job whenever he remains unemployed, he takes his meds, he lives his Life and things are even getting better.

He misses not being alone, maybe.

He even misses feeling awkward around Brian's friends, because at least he had his best friend by his side, and people who weren't his doctor to talk freely to.

While parking his car, he thinks about Brian once again.

And wonders.

This might be an unpopular opinion but i think we need more boyfail Tim content. Hes a quiet little dork with formerly no friends. Let him be socially awkward and sometimes say the wrong thing and get uncomfortable in groups and be a little pathetic

[to---the---ark]

This is one of my latest fanfics about MarbleHornets.

The lack of uppercases, punctuation marks and the general "format" is wanted, and it's inspired by my dissociation issues, let's call them that since I'm not sure enough of myself to self diagnose. I hope it helped me portraying what I wanted to portray.

Hope you like it.

Regards,

[REDACTED]

-

Spoiler warning: mentions of the comic book "Marble Hornets Issue 3.5 - ToTheArk".

-

HEY, SUNNY BOY, SMILE AT ME

sometimes

i remember things

messages everywhere

secrets everywhere

sometimes

blond hair

bright smile

a little bit of a fessure between the front teeth

i look for it whenever i see someone smiling

how do you smile

i can't do that anymore

the plastic of my maskface is too hard and cold

sometimes

i remember

i was

warm

-

sometimes

thoughts get confusing

codes and riddles

numbers

glitching reality

the operator

faceless creature

it stole the faces from every memory i had

virus

it infected my whole being

i can no longer be myself

i can no longer remember who i loved

who i was loved by

what love is

i am always so cold

cold as a corpse

yellow hoodie stained with red

eyes no longer bright, one missing

blood seeping through that front teeth

the ark

awaits

i didn't die yet

didn't feed the ark

sometimes

i see

the sun

riddles and codes and warmth

his absent eye is pitch black

he no longer smiles

maybe a ghost

maybe an hallucination

he talks about tim

i do not know who he is

me

talks about me

can't remember

his voice stern and cold

answers my riddles resolves my codes

he's not really dead

he says

he will stop this

will fix me

but

i am broken, i can't be fixed

i am cold

-

the day the music died

was raining

old school

dusty floor

i'll kill you i screamed

he fell

down

down

down below

blood pooling under his head

a red halo

staining a yellow hoodie

my breath laboured

i don't know what i felt

anger

fear

nothing at all

never checked who he was

never dared to

and yet

alex showed me

now he briefly smiles at me

blood seeping through the little gap between his front teeth

is he

really dead

really here

really alive

really gone

is this reality

-

my head hurts

riddles eat my brain

codes stab it with painful thorns

sometimes

i see

the sun

«I've been looking for you.»

he's offering me his gloved hand

and his warmth tricks me into letting myself be boiled alive

am i really safe

am i me

who is

me

is tim still here

is tim still me

will i ever take my maskface off

i know no safety beside him

the one who stuck with me despite my impurity

or maybe because of it

maybe he just can't leave

maybe i ruined him once again

the sun is warm

usually

i feel a spark of warmth when i grab his hand

«You are broken, you can be fixed.»

his voice is as soothing as i think i remember it was

calm washes over me

hands stop trembling

i cough twice

i sob ugly crying

clawing his hoody trying to keep him close trying to never let go i don't want to be alone anymore please don't leave

«I'm not leaving, Tim.»

i'm tim

i'm me, he says so

a masked figure

behind him

don't know that facemask

don't know

is it gonna start all over again?

is this person here to torment me again- to take him away again?

i panic

«Listen to me» he says

i do

i think i'm dying

panic swirling in my chest

difficult to breath

«Everything is normal. Everything is fine.»

i don't really remember much

vague and blurry conceps most of the time

but

college, panic attacks before an exam

his smile reassuring me, his voice saying those exact words

«I worry about nothing.»

he calms me

again

soothing voice

warmth

the masked person doesn't seem so scary anymore

not beside him

«Because nothing's on my mind.»

the sun smiles at me

for the first time since i remained alone

a path of death and loss behind me

i am

warm

-

Little explanation time, with a lot of spoilers, lmao.

The masked guy is "Skully" and the whole fic happens after Issue 3.

I think that the order of the issues is 1, 2, 3.5, 3 and 4, and I think Issue 3.5 happens before Issue 3 becsuse in Issue 3.5, Skully "absorbs" Jay and Alex, and shows their faces to Jessica in Issue 3.

I also don't think Skully "absorbs" Brian. Brian says he had escaped the Ark multiple times, leaving behind pieces of himself, and Skully clearly asks him "help us". Skully doesn't show Jessica Brian's face, also.

With all the worry and concern Brian showed towards Tim, I wanted to write what I'd love to see: Brian looking for Tim with Skully's help, and finding him. I just did that from a dissociated, broken Tim's pov. Or at least I tried to.

[to---the---ark]

Hello.

My name's [REDACTED] and I'm a 26 years old man that absolutely loves MarbleHornets, so... I made this blog to talk about the serie to the void to no end.

-

WARNINGS:

This blog isn't my job, it won't post regularly.

I like to draw and write gorey scenes, and I'm open to discuss NSFW things. Everything will be appropriately tagged (see the Tag List).

I love angst. Sooner or later I'll make you cry.

-

DO NOT INTERACT LIST:

Nazis, fascists and all those things.

Pedos and zoos.

Racists, misogynists, ableists, sexists...

TERFS and whoever discriminates against the LGBTQIA+ community and against minorities.

-

TAG LIST:

#RedactedWrites and #RedactedDraws - Like I said, I like to write and draw. Every possibly triggering stuff will be appropriately put under a cut, with trigger warnings both before the cut and in the tags. Some of my MH fanfics could include ships, but I do that just for fun, keep in mind that none of these ships are canon or confirmed to be correct.

#RedactedsJeffTheKiller - All the writing and all the art about my own version of JTK.

#tw and #cw - These two simple tags will be put in every single triggering content I will make. Things will be specified in the posts before the cuts, and also in the tags (example: #tw #tw: gore).

#RedactedThinks - Just reflections on MarbleHornets. Thoughts about the characters, the serie, or writing ideas I'm not gonna write for real.

#RedactedTakesNotes - Look, I love trying to solve codes and stuff, sooner or later I'll write here all the notes I took during my 12 years in the fandoms.

#RedactedListens - I love music, and I wanna put here all the songs reminding me of MarbleHornets. They could be fan songs, or songs I just associate to the serie and its characters. There's the chance I'll write/draw things inspired by those songs, so this tag will probably be seen sided with the writing/drawing ones.

#RedactedAnswers - Pretty self explanatory. You send an ask, I'll answer.

#creepypasta - The serie has nothing to do with creepypastas... but I absolutely love them. I'll also drag twinkified Masky and personally murder him.

-

MY MAIN PROJECTS AT THE MOMENT:

Notes From The Watcher - a Slenderverse lil' thing on TikTok divided in 3 accounts, all managed by me: Watcher, Michael and The Rat King.

Go To Sleep - my rewriting of my own 2015 reboot of Jeff the Killer. Here's the introduction, at the end of it I'll link the other chapters when I'll post them.

-

That's it for now, I think.

I'll probably add a few more things as the blog progresses.

-

Regards,

[Redacted]