#marble hornets fanfic

[koibitogata]

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.

[ticcitobys4286thlover]

tw: orgasm denial, teasing, thigh riding

edit: going back, i realized i never really credited @rainrot4me for this idea, so i dont want to make it seem like i copied their idea and went with it.

Hoodie was the listener, and you were always the talker, it was simple. It never bothered him, he just found it cute how you get really happy just talking about your day or what you saw.

Now that you're naked, rutting your pussy on his thigh trying to reach that certain spot,  he couldn't help but want to talk to you more.

“You know, I really wanna hear about your day.” he says, bucking his leg upwards causing you to let out a small whimper. But you couldn't respond, you were too drunk on pleasure that all you could respond was with your moans.

“I'm talkin’ to you love, or are you not gonna tell me about your day?” he says with a shit eating grin. 

“But I-but I did! I *ngh* swear I did!”

“But I don't seem to remember, you sure you did Hun?” this time however, he reached down low with his right hand and started doing little sloppy circles around your clit, teasing you even more.

A mix between a yes and a moan was what came out of your mouth. But he wanted more, he couldn't just let you have what you wanted without having what he wanted.

You started rutting your cunt even more on his thigh, like you were desperately trying to reach something, and he fully caught onto that. He grabbed you by your waist, lifting you up from his thigh making you whimper at the feeling.

“I was almost there! Just let me–just let me cum, please!” tears from the recent moment started appearing,

“C'mon pretty, just tell me one simple thing you did today, and I'll let you cum, simple.” he says, doing little circles on the sides of your waist.

“I went to the–to the park...” you said, trying your best to form a sentence.

“And what’d you see?” he said back, tossing his head to the side.

“Something abandoned, but I can't, I can't remember.” you said, looking back at him, giving him pleading eyes. “Can I just please please, please, just–!” and before you could even continue, he pulled you back down, this time moving you himself, not loosening his grip.

He was going at a way faster pace than you were, your puffy clit rubbing against the material of his rough jeans, but by then, you couldn't even feel the way it felt, you were too focused on finding that high again.

Finally, when you did, you came right on the spot, rolling your eyes back while grabbing the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“That sounded fun.” he said, placing a kiss against your forehead.

[toolobster4u]

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

[squarebracketsmileyface]

if it's not too much trouble, can we get a lil sneaky peek of what Jesse looks like in art form? we have a 'preview' of Birdie, so i'm keen to see our darling lil guy (again, only if you want to/it's not a particularly time-consuming task) aaaa

YOU CAN INDEED (featuring a whole new art style I accidentally absorbed. I fucking created it for Soap in my COD fic so I could draw things as him, and now it's just my fucking art style kill me)

Also closeups under the thingy because I wanna talk about this art and some general lil headcanon bits more, it took me 9 and a half hours to finish this and I genuinely love it so much. I loved the entire process.

This drawing made me love Jesse as much as I love Birdie now, I think. I'm such a visual person and without a visual on Jesse I liked him conceptually but I didn't really care about him like I do Birdie. Now I love him. I adore him. He's so small and so round and look at him standing on his bubba's knees like a big boy, Brian's barely holding him up at all, really, he's definitely doing it allllllll by himself :D

SO

Brian has rainbow spoke covers on his chair, because he works with young kids, of course he's gonna make his chair fun. I also like to think that he lets them put stickers on the outsides of his mud guards too. Also the fun yellow pushrim covers and wheelchair frame

Jesse has a lazy eye :D (featuring his exceptionally circular face and silly surprised baby eyebrows)

Brian's chipped nail polish. He teaches kids sport for a living, especially climbing, of course his nail polish is going to be super chipped all the time. He's a dad too, so he doesn't have a huge amount of time to do his nails every time they start chipping. (Also the wedding band :] )

Birdie's drawing again, because it's still so fucking cute to me. With Jesse at like very little baby age in this drawing, Birdie would be somewhere around 13 I think? So just getting into "Daaaaaaad you're embarrassing meeeeeee!" era with that doodle

The family photos on the wall, including Lark! :D

Also, finally, the wrinkles on Brian's face :D he's a guy in his fourties who spent at LEAST like five years solid living through hell in the woods (I like to think it was longer than that, like, when Alex 'killed him' was when he started living as hoodie in the woods, so honestly probably a good bit longer than just the five years of documented MH that we got), and then once that was over, he had to learn to live with the stress of a spinal cord injury while also dealing with the survivors guilt of losing the only people he knew still on the same day as he lost the use of his legs.

Also a broken nose that never got put right before it healed, because with him fighting Alex all those times, there's no way he didn't come out without at least one broken nose.

And, of course, his silly cowboy mustache (he gives Jesse horsey rides on his wheelchair and Jesse wears a cowboy hat which is FAR too big for him. It's the cutest thing Tim and Lark have ever seen)

[limeartichoke]

new brim fic i wrote you guys should go check it out...

the tl;dr of it is tim hates himself and thinks Brian won't like him, but he is wrong and they kiss. also Tim's internal monologue is very, very horny

[vivicas-dollhouse]

SMUT FIC COMMISIONS OPEN!! ALL MONEY GOES TO @cryptidcircuswrites

Specifically for mh, crp, and fnaf fics

Under 1k: 8 usd

1k-1.5k: 12 usd

1.5k-2k: 15 usd

Prices are negotiable

I WILL WRITE:

Oc x character

Character x character

Y/n x character

Single character masturbation

All kinks but scat, vomit, and furries/monsterfucking. No hate i just dont know how

Dd-dne fics

Gore/violence

I WILL NOT WRITE

Minors

Beastiality

Pedo shit

Incest

Step siblings or stepfather/mother x stepchild

Again, negotiations are open. Please reblog if you cant donate or commission, thank you

[your-oddities]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡ Jam Drabble ⋆｡° ✩

Cautions: Two dudes share a bath (don’t worry nothing sexual happens), that’s basically it.

Word count: ≈400

a/n: whoa i’m back after like?? three months ??? crazy. anyway back to the cave i go (unless someone req. something) ((i’m actually begging i have no ideas AUGHHHH !! )) (((/nf)))

•——•——•——•——•——•——•——•

Water laps at the tub’s edges as Jay sinks down. Arms assume their position around his middle before pulling him back against a broad chest. Warm skin on warm skin. Jay can’t help relaxing, leaning back fully and eyes fluttering shut. Tim always seems to have that effect on him.

Silence fills the room, only broken by the occasional deep breath or sigh from either of them. It’s been so long since this little tradition of theirs has begun, no words need to be said. As is with all of their habits they’ve seem to gain from their forced proximity to one another. At first, it was just occasional lingering touches. Anyone who’s ever been a little touched starved can empathize. Sitting a little too close while some generic show played on their hotel television, or the pinky linking they swore was to keep each other safe and in sight. It was excusable.

But it morphed into more. Rather than sitting a bit too close, an arm was wrapped around the other. Instead of pinky links, hand holding was becoming common in their every day outings. It got to a point where they’d frequently get comments from strangers saying how the two are such a cute couple. Both Tim and Jay stopped correcting people after a while.

Of course neither of them wish to divulge into their relationship. Things between them seem almost wrong. Jay was all Tim had, and vise versa. After spending so long being lonely, they both know — whether it be consciously or subconsciously — it can’t be healthy to grasp at the first sense of companionship. Cling to the first person to offer them some kind of constant in their lives. And when they’re all they truly have left, how could they not be selfish? Any normal person would’ve done what they’ve done.

Maybe that poor excuse is the reason they’ve both kept quiet for so long. Refusing to confront the selfishness of this all. The unbridled need for one another. The codependency.

A rub on Jay’s cheek pulls him from his thoughts. Eyes opening, seeing Tim’s head on his shoulder is a warm welcome. One Jay can’t stop himself from grinning at. A hand moving to Tim’s cheek, Jay pulls him into a kiss. One full of love. Or whatever this feeling is.

Maybe they won’t confront it all today. It’s late, after all. When they’re free from all this suffering brought down by that thing in the forest, then Jay’ll bring it up. But for the time being, he’ll bask in the hand holding and innocently shared baths.

• . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . •

Thanks for reading! ヾ(^_^)

Reblogs appreciated ⑅°.♡

[sterifels-blog]

The First Time He Lets You Touch Him

Brian's skin is an old sheet of vellum, cracked where it folds, oil-seeped where his body burns against it. Beneath, he is as hollow as a pipe organ, ribs lined in dust and copper patina, lungs straining like bellows in a chapel long since abandoned. His breath rattles in his throat—moth wings, brittle and unsteady. He does not move as your fingers creep toward him, like spider legs, like the slow, creeping tendrils of mold over water-swollen wood.

When you touch him, it is nothing. It is everything.

Your fingers press into the waxy skin of his wrist, and the pulse there is distant, faint, a drumbeat in the belly of some drowned cathedral. There is a softness to him, an absence of something that should be there—fat, warmth, proof of existence. The bones shift under your touch, articulated as if wired together for dissection.

Brian exhales.

The sound is closer to a leak in a gas line, a breath long trapped in a body that has forgotten how to house it. You feel the tremor run from his forearm to his shoulder, the ghost of resistance curling like smoke through his muscles, a reflex bred from years of flinching before contact ever came. He has been a graveyard for a long, long time.

There is something ruined in his stillness, something aching in the way he lets you take his hand and unfold it like wet, crumpled parchment. His fingers do not curl around yours; they rest, limp and foreign, bird bones bound in thin flesh. You trace the blue riverbeds running beneath his skin, and he watches, unreadable, his pupils blown so wide they look bottomless.

The world slows. It stills. The walls flicker in dying light, old yellow paint curling like burnt paper, shadows stretching from their corners like fingers dragging their nails through dust. The air is thick, syrupy, a film over your teeth, your tongue. You think of decay, of rot that smells sweet before it sours, of the strange intimacy of something slowly decomposing in your palm.

When he finally speaks, it is barely a whisper, a sound that catches in his throat like a bird ensnared in barbed wire.

“Do it again.”

You do.

[snowaftermidnight]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marble Hornets Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jay Merrick/Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky Characters: Jay Merrick, Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky Additional Tags: takes place during motel hopping era, There Was Only One Bed, Title from a PTV song, tim thinks it's unrequited, jay is not aware he likes tim yet, theyre both so awkward about it, no beta we die like literally everyone in the cast Summary:

For once, the nicer option is also the cheaper option. Jay assumes it won’t feel any different from normal to share a bed in a hotel room. He realizes a bit too late that he is wrong.

---

finally posting a chapter of this wip ive had for months! hope u enjoy :3

[fr34k0n4l345h]

Easy Come, Easy Go

A Marble Hornets 1920’s au fic

enjoy!!

͙✧˖*°࿐

Chapter One - Birdie

The streets were draped with a tranquil silence. Only the buzzing of distant cicadas and the rhythmic chirping of other nighttime crawlers filled the void that formed in the heart of Birmingham, Alabama. The streets may be desolate at this hour, but beneath layers of asphalt and crust was a bustling community.

The dance floor was cast in an elegant glow that coincided beautifully with men and women alike that moved and swayed about suavely in dazzling attire. Risqué attire of the likes that were frowned upon during the daytime. People of all sizes, backgrounds, and colors mingled and chattered between watered down bootleg alcoholic beverages. Brassy music filled the air that swirled stagnantly with remnants of tobacco smoke. The night life was energetic and free. Up until a few years ago, it was foreign and daunting world to Jay. Yet, it was one that he’d come to accept. What choice did a paperboy like him have?

“Birdie!” A masculine voice slurred from across the finely polished wooden countertop. This snapped Jay from his mindless idle daze.

“Pour me another whiskey on the rocks!” He looked up to meet the clearly inebriated man, who slapped a couple of crumpled bills atop the shiny bar-top. Jay had learned the hard way to keep his head down while on the clock. To do exactly as he was told. To speak only when spoken to. This job was the only thing keeping him off of the streets. The last thing he needed was his loud mouth getting him fired. So no matter how arrogant or crude his customers were, his body moved on command.

“You got it.” Practiced and gentle hands moved with precision prepare the man his requested beverage. He slid the sparkling glass across the lacquered wooden surface in exchange for the mishandled bills. The man tipped his fedora in thanks before vanishing into the crowd, melting into the sea of mingling strangers.

The bartender shoved the crinkled paper into a jar behind the bar, then folded his arms lackadaisically on the countertop with a heavy sigh. Jay often caught himself wondering if this was the life truly deserved. It certainly wasn’t the life he’d imagined as an ambitious teenager. He often wondered how things would’ve turned out had he gotten that position at his childhood friend’s budding film company. Kralie Inc. It was an industry mammoth now. He’d always known it had potential. Especially with the knowledge and expertise of the man running the business. Alex Kralie.

—

“No, no, you’re doing it all wrong!” An immature voice scolded. “You need to feel what the character is saying, not just speak the line!” The young blonde in his memory had lighthearted frustration carved into his features as he berated his friend. The innocent southern sun beamed upon the two of them, singeing his delicate skin even with the protection of his stained blouse. It was how they spent all of their days together; in the yard of his father’s victorian style mansion beneath the endless canopy of blue above them, acting out every book they could get their grubby little hands on.

“This is too hard,” Jay huffed in protest. “why can’t your sister act as the princess? She’s a girl!” Little beads of sweat glistened on their blemish-free features. A symphony of birds sang around them.

“Because she isn’t pretty enough, I already told you that.” Alex argued, arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Now start over!”

It was in that moment that Jay’s entire perspective of the world shifted, turning itself inside out. He was a boy; he couldn’t be pretty! His prepubescent mind couldn’t fathom such a concept. Oddly enough, the sun seemed to beat down on him harder.

“What are you doing just standing there? Move!” Alex nudged his shoulder with a closed fist, shaking the boy out of his flabbergasted staring contest with the ground. When he looked up, he was met with a smiling expression. One that, as a child, Jay had become familiar with. A smile that spread to his own features. A light laughter bubbled from his chest. The memory faded.

—

“I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

“But Ale—“

“DON’T!”

The voice echoed. Then, there was a trembling breath. It was so faint, yet oh so fragile. Like a mere gust of wind would cause the male to crumble into a million little fragments.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything at all. I— we’re done. For the sake of my life and yours, don’t write me. Don’t look for me. Y’know what— just forget we ever met.”

His chest burned.

“Goodbye, Jay.”

—

It was as if a boa constrictor had wrung itself around his heart. Becoming tighter with each loop around. Why, oh why did that memory always come back to tourment him?

“Sir? ‘Scuse me, sir.” A thick country accent filled his ears, smooth and warm as honey. Jay looked at the man across from him, tired eyes boring into the stranger. Eyes that weren’t quite seeing in the present.

“You seem to have, uh.. spilled.” The man gestured to the glistening puddle of an unknown liquid and cubed ice in front of him. If Jay wasn’t wide awake before, he certainly was now. He jumped to action, yanking the rag dangling from his belt and hurried to clean up the liquid. The surveying man chuckled. It was a pleasant noise that carried above the music flowing from the stage across the establishment.

“Long night, huh?” The curious customer inquired. Jay huffed out a short laugh. It was a pathetic attempt at courtesy towards the customer.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He’d murmur. With the spilled alcohol now soaked into the rag without a trace, he plopped the soiled fabric aside. Before he could lift his gaze, a wad of neat bills were slid his way. It was more than enough cash for just one drink.

“Neat moonshine for me. Get yourself somethin’ while you’re at it. You look like you need it.” His effortless smile exposed a little tooth gap hidden behind his lips. A subtle feature that complimented the man’s kind attitude. Jay could only stare at him in wonderment at the suspiciously generous offer.

“Thanks.” He’d awkwardly reply after a few moment of battling his own brain to come up with coherent words to say in response. He took the cash, then worked to pour the stranger his alcohol of choice. Surprisingly enough, even as a bartender in one of the several underground speakeasies in Birmingham, Jay didn’t get around to drinking often. To summarize a long story short, he was a lightweight and didn’t enjoy how quickly the substance got to him. But bootleg beer was the perfect ratio of water and actual alcohol to give him a comfortable edge. So, he poured himself a glass.

To Jay’s confusion, the stranger didn’t leave after being served his drink.

“Brian, by the way. Are you new ‘round here?” Brian focused in on him with upmost curiosity, but it wasn’t the condescending type. It was friendly and lighthearted. This man didn’t seem like the type to frequent a speakeasy like, yet here he was.

“Uh, yeah, kinda. I work weekends mostly.” He’d sheepishly reply. Truth be told, he wasn’t new at all. He’d been working at that joint for about a year now. Sometimes, the paperboy couldn’t help but tell little white lies. What did it matter, anyways? At these bars, he was Birdie; a hard-working student caring for his siblings at home. Not Jay Merrick; the man who was hardly getting by. A failure living a double life to escape his unfortunate reality.

The man, who he’d come to know as Brian, nodded and sipped on the golden liquid in his glass.

“Thought so. I was wonderin’ why I haven’t seen the likes of you ‘round.” He idly responded, swishing around the liquid in his glass. There was a brief silence between them. “What’s eatin’ you? You’ve got that thousand yard stare to you.”

The question came as a surprise to Jay. It wasn’t often that anyone acknowledged him beyond asking for a drink. For a moment, he faltered.

“I thought the bartender was supposed to be the one asking those questions.” He cracked an insincere smile. It was true. Jay was wrung dry; undeniably so.

“Says who?” Brian chided, a charming smile dancing on his lips. Jay felt his mouth go dry at that. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip of the bubbling liquid inside in a desperate attempt to drown the butterflies in his stomach.

“Well, y’know how it is.. the state of the world ‘n all.” Jay brushed the man’s obvious prying off with a lazy shrug. Much to his relief, Brian seemed to take the hint. He hummed from across the wooden bar top.

“Yeah, real shame what’s goin’ on in these parts. Especially with folk disappearing or turnin’ up dead in the night. Real scary world out there.” The stranger spoke before tilting his head back and taking a swig of his aged moonshine. At that, Jay could only stare.

“S-Sorry, what?” He stammered over his words. His brows knit together. “Did you say people are..” He couldn’t even utter the words. Why hadn’t he heard of this in the papers he delivered? Surely the press would be raging about something so alarming. Brian nodded.

“You heard that right. Murders and disappearances. Some say there’s a killer on the loose. Some are sayin’ it’s a man-eatin’ cryptid that lives in the forest.” He continued. It sounded absurd, and yet there was no sign of jest in the mans tone. Jay felt his heart lurch in his chest.

“No one really knows. Just stay safe out there, alright? Don’t give in to the shadow’s call.” Their eyes met. Jay held Brian’s gaze, which was terrifyingly sincere for a man he’d just met. It was a haunting passing moment. Then, he realized the message he was being delivered; a warning. Brain must know something that he did not. A wave of unease washed over him. Perhaps he was just paranoid— but if he were paranoid, how could Brian make such claims with a straight face?

“Loosen up, kid! look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” Jay’s boss, Mr. Murphy, boomed as he rounded the corner. He was a plump and jolly man with slicked back salt and pepper hair. Your stereotypical black-jack loving speakeasy owner. He casted one of his thick arms around Jay’s scrawny shoulders, which made him stumble. At the appearance of a new face, Brian’s pleasant smile reappeared.

“Good evenin’ to you, Mr. Murphy. I’ll get goin’ now.” Brian stood from the barstool, abandoning his now empty glass. He straightened out his tan overcoat. “It was nice talkin’ to you, uh..” Brown eyes flickered over Jay’s appearance. Oh right! He hadn’t introduced himself.

“Call me Birdie.” He promptly filled in the gap. At that, a smile tugged at the corner of Brian’s lips. A glint of an emotion he couldn’t quite capture twinkled in his eye.

“Right. Until next time, Birdie.” With that, the man with the comforting accent excused himself from the bar, revealing the atmosphere behind him. The population of customers were slowly dwindling. The music tapered to a laid-back swing. The morning hours must’ve been approaching. Beside him, Mr. Murphy droned on about tonight’s business and the typical drama that occurred almost nightly. Jay tuned him out. He took Brian’s abandoned glass and acquired a clean polishing rag.

As he was wiping the surface, something caught his eye. In red ink at the base of the glass resided two lines side by side and a curved one beneath it, resembling a smiling face. It was uniform and tidy, like it had been stamped on. Jay’s eyebrows creased. Where could this have come from? He’d been watching the customer the entire time, had he not?

He looked up towards the dark stairway that led towards the only entrance and exit of the secret establishment and felt a freezing chill run down his spine.

“Murders and disappearances. Some say there’s a killer on the loose. Some are sayin’ it’s a man-eatin’ cryptid that lives in the forest.”

Jay began to vigorously rub away the red ink with the smooth fabric of the white rag, staining it with the dye as a result.

“Don’t give in to the shadow’s call.”

He set the glass aside. He found himself looking back towards the darkness engulfed door way, as if something was luring him towards it. Beckoning him. A sense of unease hung over his shoulders. Brian’s words stuck to him like a curse. What did that man know that he didn’t? There was something strange going on. And something from deep within him, a primal yearning for knowledge, urged him to find out what it was.

Next

͙✧˖*°࿐

HIIII THIS IS MY FIRST “big” project so feedback is appreciated :]]] will be posted to ao3 and wattpad at some point!!

[desvinyl]

STICK N’ POKE

“ Dude- What the fuck? Are you insane? “

brim implied! | Tim pov | 3rd person | 8589 words.. | fluff | drunk brian | by yours truly | brim mh | first post whoo!

Inspired by : @limeartichoke ‘s comic

The sun was settled and the moon had risen, awakening the crickets and their constant chirping. Though, this noise had kept Tim content whilst trying to sleep — white noise, if you will — it kept the freight train of thoughts from storming his mind. More specifically, the dreamy fantasies of his roommate and best friend, Brian. Brian was someone he had known for a few years now, and they were total opposites. Brian was talkative and popular, whilst Tim had huddled away from the public and avoided crowds, always being known as “Brian’s friend.” It was seriously a mystery how these two had become friends of any sort. Or even met, to begin with. However, it was safe to say that they were practically attached at the hip nowadays. The best of friends. Some could even call them.. brothers.

Tonight was one of those rare nights where these two had been separate. To Tim’s knowledge, Brian was at the bar probably getting drunk and partying with some of his friends that Tim didn’t know the names of. This was usually fine, because Tim was always down the street, ready to pick him up — sometimes he was even in the bar with him! However, tonight he was alone, in bed, with the TV volume on low; letting whatever was playing gently murmur in the background. And in Tim's solitude, he couldn’t help but feel worried. What if Brian needed him? What if he couldn’t get a ride? The many “What ifs” of the situation were racing through his mind. Making his heart beat a little faster with a piercing anxiety. Tim knew he was overreacting, and that he should be able to trust Brian... I mean he was the strongest man he knew, and Tim was sure he could knock down anyone who tried to harm him. But there was still that inkling of worry that haunted him, making his eyes squeeze a little tighter, and his body roll to either side of the bed; unable to find comfort.

With the worrisome war that raged through Tim’s mind, it was assumed that he couldn’t hear the sound of a car’s door opening and closing, the gentle hint of Brian’s voice catching on the wind as he waved off his friend and the gentle creaking of Tim’s bedroom door opening. “Tim..” A disembodied voice had murmured, causing Tim’s heart to drop from where he lay. *hic* “..Timmy.” Believing Brian was still at the bar, Tim couldn’t tell whose voice it was — as it was laced up in a drunken tone — and the unknowing fear of it made Tim unable to open his eyes in fear of a ghost from one of Alex’s cheesy horror movies to pop up out of nowhere and scare the daylights out of him. “..You *hic* asleep, Timmy?” The voice was a little clearer now, despite the hiccup, that rasp, and light-heartedness .. it had to be Brian. But how?

With that, Tim’s eyes fluttered open and he turned over on his side, faking a tired yet irritated expression. “..What is it Brian?” Tim murmured back, hiding the surprise in his voice with a quiet hint of rasp. His eyes flickered over to the alarm clock on the bedside table, reading the bright red numbers on the pixelated screen.. 2:30 AM. *Crap he did fall asleep, was he having anxiety in his sleep?* Tim’s eyelashes fluttered in disbelief at the time, before scrunching up his nose to squint up at Brian. Who had the most deliriously dumbfounded expression on his face, and a loose smile resting on his lips. Brian wordlessly pulled up his sleeve and ushered his arm forward, urging Tim to look at it. “ Look at what I gooott... “ Brian blabbered, a gentle drunken giggle leaving his lips. As he laughed, Tim struggled to keep his smile from poking through, only watching as Brian’s eyes squeezed shut and his dimples came out of hiding, revealing the small gap between Brian’s pearly white teeth. It was hard to ignore, and Tim caught himself staring at it every time. Secretly, despite his usual teasing, he loved Brian’s tooth gap. It was cute on him.

Unfortunately, Tim couldn’t gaze upon it forever and finally peeled his eyes away from the beauty to instead squint and try to understand what the hell he was being shown. At first, it was too dark to see a difference, but as a car streamed by and its headlights shone through the window — casting light upon Brian’s exposed skin for just a second — Tim was able to decipher it.

A hand clasped against his mouth to catch the gasp that left his lips. Tim was now scrambling up to turn on the lamp and throw on his glasses to get a better look. Taking ahold of Brian's arm, Tim pulled his drunk friend closer, now reading what was *tattooed* into his best friend’s skin. ' TIM ' - with an upside down ‘i’. It was a poorly done stick n’ poke that Brian probably did himself. Tim could feel the shock only grow on his face, his eyes flickering between the tattoo and Brian who was grinning like a fool. “Dude- What the fuck?” Tim muttered in a slightly aghast tone, his words coming off a little harsher than he meant them to. Though, Brian was too drunk to take it to heart, and a loud laugh erupted from his lips making Tim’s expression scrunch up more with a mix of confusion and disbelief.

As Tim pulled the drunken man closer again, making a double-take at the tattoo, Brian could only lean his head back in uncontrolled giggles. If they weren’t in this predicament, Tim would have died on the spot from how perfect he sounded, but at this moment he was too busy examining the tattoo. After a second passed, Tim brought his free hand to his mouth and licked his thumb before pressing it to the tattoo and rubbing firmly, praying it was temporary.. but to his dismay, it was permanent. “Oh my god..” He muttered under his breath, “Brian, you’re insane.” Instead of getting anything audible from Brian in response, Tim had only gotten a mix of gibberish, hiccups, and more drunken giggling. Tim sighed, “..This is going to cost so much to cover up.” Now letting Brian’s arm go and glancing back up at him.

But before Tim or Brian could say another word, Brian had decided to collapse on top of the man before him. His head barreled into the brunette’s chest, causing the two of them to flop back against the mattress. Brian’s tall and muscular body was ten centimeters away from crushing Tim, but did Tim honestly care? No. If anything he’d rather Brian crush him than torture him like this. As Brian’s arms had propped him up to face the other, Tim felt his heart jump to his throat, the blood rushing to his ears in an instant. “..Brian..?” Tim whispered with a little nervous smile playing at his lips, waiting for a response from the other. Instead, the two of them are blanketed in silence, and Brian’s smile softens — looking less foolish and more loving — his eyes soften too, before closing entirely as the lighter-haired man plowed his forehead into the dip of Tim’s shoulder.

While Brian had grown comfortable — clearly weary from the night of partying — Tim had laid stiff below him, feeling an odd heat fill his cheeks, and a nervous jittery feeling flutter throughout his chest. God- whatever could he do? Tim didn’t even know where to rest his hands that wouldn’t make Brian feel trapped, or worse disgusted. But why would *he* of all people be disgusted? He’s been with men before. What would it matter? Maybe it was the fact that they were only friends and that this wasn’t something friends normally did.. but friends didn’t normally tattoo their best bud's name into their forearms either, so he guessed it was only fair.

Tim’s hands snaked up Brian’s sides and rested on his gently heaving back, letting his palms gently rub circles into the fabric of his hoodie. He was careful, and delicate, just testing the waters in hopes that Brian wouldn’t lift his head and protest. Ironically, Brian had done the opposite, and at the contact Tim could feel Brian’s nose dig into the crook between his neck and his shoulder, causing Tim’s movements to stutter. Tim persisted in massaging Brian’s back, however, with each warm breath whispering across the brunette's neck, Tim felt that it was getting harder to sit still. It got to a point where Tim was about to ask Brian if he needed help getting to his bed, but in that moment he realized that Brian was fast asleep. A sigh left Tims lips, “What am I going to do with you..” He whispered before gently chuckling to himself. Tim himself was starting to feel tired, guess this meant that Brian got off lucky. Psh, as if. An earful was waiting for him when he decided to wake up tomorrow morning, but for now, Tim allowed the two of them to sleep.. drifting off to the silent murmur of the TV and the restless chirping of crickets in the lawn.

I am open to fic requests for anything marble hornets, and any ship. Some of my favs: jam/jasky, brim/hoodsky, jaylex, timlex, brilex, bray, poly hornets, bramothy, jamlex, etc.

[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]

Trying out using a poll for this. For no particular reason, no reason at all, who would make a better god of time out of the MH guys? (except Jay, he's the human sacrifice who gets to actually have sex with said god lol)

[mickey-bees]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marble Hornets Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Jay Merrick/Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky, Alex Kralie/Amy Walters, Jessica Locke/Taylor Characters: Jay Merrick, Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky, Brian Thomas | Hoody, Alex Kralie, Amy Walters, Jessica Locke, Seth Wilson, Sarah Reid, The Operator (Marble Hornets), Skully (Marble Hornets) Additional Tags: Jay Merrick Lives, Brian Thomas | Hoody Lives, Alex Kralie Lives, Amy Walters Lives, Sarah Reid Lives, Timothy "Tim" Wright Dies, Mentioned Seth Wilson, Jam, amylex, Tim Wright as Skully Summary:

Tim’s hand slipped from the door as he turned away from his only exit, swallowing his fear like a burning hot iron, feeling it slip down and nestle in his chest. He could end this all, right here, right now.

 Or in which Tim dies and, somehow, this fixes everything.

a little side project I’ve been working on :)

[vivicas-dollhouse]

Pork soda

A transmasc! brian thomas x tim wright smut fic

Desc: while riding out a sleepy high one night, tim and brian decide to test how much better cumming is while high

Cws: high sex (weed), no penetration sex, oral, thigh humping, cum gets eaten slightly, erm its fairly vanilla but i like it a lot... so....

1.3k words, enjoy~

The apartment was dark, cool and quiet. Brian sat on the couch, taking another nibble of his edible. Chewing was a workout, and he debated just swallowing it whole. Tim was there too, zoned out in the early morning hours tv specials. As of right now, the grinch rolled along in its plot, christmas nearing the corner.

“Bri can you pass the remote,” tim quietly asked, reaching out his hand. Brian obliged, flopping down onto the couch near tims legs. He held out the remote, tim taking it and changing the channel. This time a nature documentary was on.

Brian jumped as he felt tims hand petting his head, but then melted into his touch. “Good boy,” tim mumbled. Brian made a small noise of happiness, scooting to rest his head on his boyfriends lap. They hadnt been outed to anyone, but for the past six months they had lived together “for tax purposes”. Whatever it was, brian loved it. The gentle touches, the warm body laying next to him every night, the way that they would shower and eat and drink together, everything together. It was enough to keep brian warm, even in december. The twinkling of the Christmas tree in the corner made brian smile, the beautiful light display making the room a perfect shade of magenta.

“I love you tim,” brian sighed, smiling.

Tim laughed softly. “What makes you say that lovebug?” He looked down at brian who was snuggled under a blanket.

Brian shrugged. “I just love being with you, you know?”

“Sit up for me?” Tim smiled, watching as brian obeyed. “Good boy,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss brian. He kissed slowly, holding his hand on brians face, rubbing circles with his thumb. Brian scooted closer, deepening the kiss. Brian wished he could stay there in this moment in time forever, head light of worry and lazily trailing his hands into tims soft black hair. Brians eyelids fluttered as tim snaked his hands down to brians chest, going under his shirt. Brian whimpered softly into the kiss, going to straddle tim. Once he was on top of him, tim broke the kiss. Spit connected their mouths as they breathed into the hazey air.

“Whats up?” Brian said softly.

Tim stared at him lovingly, smiling with that goofy smile brian fell in love with. “Can i take off your shirt?”

Brians face flushed as he buried it in tims shoulder. Tim quickly went for brians neck, softly nibbling on his flesh. Brian made soft little noises involuntarily, starting to grind on tims thigh.

“Cmon bri, let me help you sweetheart,” tim muttered into his neck. Brian sat up, raising his arms as tim pulled his shirt off. He looked away, embarrassed by the scars that had been left after his top surgery. Tim noticed and wrapped his hands around brians waist.

“My beautiful boy…” he whispered, sliding his hand down his chest. “All mine,”

Brian blushed, feeling tims hands move to his jeans waistband. “All yours,”

“Thats my good boy,” tim smiled. He paused, face getting warm as he thought. “I want to feel you cum on my fingers, is that… actually forget it.” He sheepishly looked away, removing his hands.

Brian quickly moved tims hands back to his hips, holding them there. “I want to give you that,” he whispered, smiling. “Ive heard cumming high is the best,”

Tims face lit up. He slouched back a bit, repositioning brian to be more on his thigh. He unbuttoned and pulled brians jeans down, watching brians face.

“Here, ill help you a bit. Tell me if its too much.” He murmured, sliding his hand through the boxers front hole. Brian moaned, sliding forward to position himself properly.

“Damn your so wet, so fucking handsome,” tim groaned, putting his other hand on brians ass. “Make yourself feel good pretty boy,”

Brian started rutting onto tims hand, moaning from the much needed stimulation. The heavy feeling of the high made every thrust more powerful, the sensations quickly building.

“F-fuck,” briam moaned, speeding himself up as tim moved his fingers in circles on his clit.

“Good boy, just like that, just like that baby,” tim smiled, watching the mess brian was quickly becoming.

“God, your so fucking hot,” brian mumbled, moaning freely as he rolled his head back.

“Yeah? You are too, becoming a pretty little mess from my hand, such a handsome boy,” tim groaned, changing the direction he was rubbing.

“Fuck, like that, like that!” Brian whimpered, grinding into tims hand as quick as his heavy body could.

“Yeah? You like that huh?” Tim smacked brians ass, the slap ringing through the apartment as he moaned.

“Mhm-” brian cried, head getting light as he panted, unable to think of words.

“You close lovebug?” Tim laughed, applying more pressure into his touch. Brian groaned loudly, making a high pitched moan as he came on tims hand. They slowed to a halt, brian gasping in his orgasm.

“Good boy, my beautiful boy,” tim smiled, removing his hand and licking off brians cum. “You taste so good baby,”

Brian smiled, giggling. “You…. you… hah… your evil,” he teased.

“Not my fault your so hot i cant control myself,” tim laughed. “Is cumming high better?”

Brian smiled mischievously. “Want me to show you.. sir?”

Tim looked at brian, face flushed and burning red. “I mean, if you want? Im not gonna force you,”

Brian moved to the floor, on his knees. “Yeah, i want to,” he smirked. Tim scooted forward, unzipping his pants. Brian slid them off. Tim groaned, boxers stained with the precum that was already leaking from the tip. Brian slid his boxers down, peppering kisses on tims inner thighs. Brian stuck his hand in his pants, using his own cum as a makeshift lube to pump tims dick with.

“Fucking whore,” tim smiled.

“Your fucking whore,” he looked up at tim, gripping the base of his dick. He watched tims face flush as he worked his hands up the lenght of his shaft, sucking lightly on tims balls. He licked the stripe up the base, listening to tims pathetic moans.

“Fuck bri, your such a- fuck- such a fucking good boy,” he groaned, resting his hand in brians sandy hair.

Brian moaned in response, removing his hand and licking the slit before taking the tip in his mouth. He looked up at tim, who was a red mess.

“Please baby, can i… can i use your mouth,” tim whined, smiling as brian made a soft “mhm”. He grabbed brians hair in his fist and forced brian on his dick, listening to the soft gags brian was making.

“Yeah, you take this so good huh? Your my good little slut, you- fuck- you take this so good baby,” tim groaned, watching brians eyes get glossy. Brian moaned, choking with how violent tim was fucking his face.

He slowed a bit upon seeing tears in brians eyes, releasing his tight grasp on his hair. Brian swirled his tounge around the tip and up and down the backside of his cock. Tim moaned, feeling the effects of the weed. The high was making this so much more enjoyable, the sensations building higher and higher with every lick, suck, and touch.

Tim gasped, going back to using brians mouth as his personal fucktoy, quickly feeling the familiar heat in his gut. He removed himself from brians mouth, taking his dick in hand and stroking. Brian opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, catching tims cum on his face. Tim gasped, shaking and whimpering.

“Was that good baby?” Brian smiled, wiping his face off with tims discarded boxer leg.

“We have to… we have to do this again..” tim panted, watching brian climb onto the couch next to him.

“Mhm, i think so too,” brian smiled, pulling the blanket over them and snuggling down with him.

"I love you brian," tim planted a kiss on brians head.

"I love you too,"