Hello! My name is Bugs. I am aroace, bisexual, and I use she/they pronouns! You may read my works if you're a minor, but I do ask that you are at least 18 or older when sending asks, comments, or messages.
I am a fanfic writer mainly for Creepypasta and Marble Hornets focused on self inserts/OC ships. I try to keep my point of view characters as gender neutral as possible, but they will lean towards more feminine unless requested as otherwise.
Do not ask me to draw unless I say drawing asks are open. I don't like being told what to draw, but writing requests are always chill.
I really like music! You'll see me incorporate it into my work a lot, often just a footnote about what I was listening to while writing or drawing something.
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Writings - #Anomalousbugwriting
Ask Responses - #AnomalousAnswersAsks
Rambles/Headcanons - #AnomalousTalks
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Masterlist:
I Know Those Eyes, This Man is Dead (Tim x Reader Angst)
SAY NO TO “REALISTIC” CREEPYPASTA SAY YES TO SLENDERMAN BEING A FATHER FIGURE, SAY YES TO THEM LOVING AND BEING NICE TO Y/N SAY YES TO SLENDERVERSE LIVING IN THE MANSION!! SAY YES TO THEM BEING A BIG HAPPY FAMILY!
Mini-fics about going to a bar/club with your partner; Featuring a lot of fluffy flirting and comfort!
I was listening to aeris' cover of Careless Whisper while writing this. She rocks, go appreciate her she's on YouTube.
These contain mentions of drinking, vomiting, and homophobia. Sorry for any mistakes, I'm too tired to reread it right now. <3
Timothy Wright - Dance With Me?
"Do you know how to dance, Tim?"
Tim blinked, looking up from his drink to meet your eyes. You were leaning on one elbow; your chin rested in your hand as you stared at him, slowly mixing your drink with your straw.
"Uh. Not really, no. Why do you ask?" He asked, taken aback by your sudden question but his intrigue was conveyed by the curious grin on his face.
"Do you want to dance with me?" You grinned back.
Tim thought it over for a moment, taking a long sip of his drink.
"I dunno, sugar. Like I said, I'm not much of a dancer. I think I'd look a little silly." He admitted with a shrug.
You hummed, taking a drink from your drink as well. You studied your glass for a moment before looking back up at him.
"Isn't that the fun part? Looking a little silly?" You questioned, "I mean, the whole point of dancing is just to have fun, so looking silly I think just comes with the whole experience."
Tim glanced at you, smiling to himself as he took another sip. He sighed, rolling his shoulders and nodding to you slowly.
"I suppose I have done sillier.. Lemme finish my drink, hon. I'll dance with ya," He said, "Can't have you goin' alone, huh?"
Your smile got a little brighter, leaning in and pecking him with dozens of kisses. He laughed and playfully pushed you away.
"Jesus, slow down. Let a man at least get done drinking first."
You let Tim finish his drink, practically downing yours out of excitement and anticipation. Once he's finished, you happily grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor.
"I'll lead, okay?" You said, fixing your top as you step onto the dance floor.
Tim smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.
"A man loves to hear that." He jokes.
You swatted at his arm with a giggle, taking both of his hands in yours. You started to step to the pace of the song, moving Tim's hands along with them. He laughs with you, letting you pull him along and move him as you please until he asks;
"Mind if I fix my hands sugar?"
You nod to him. He places one hand on your waist, keeping the other conjoined with yours. He steps closer, holding you properly while you dance.
"See? You're better than you think," You tease, "You've only almost stepped on my feet three times!"
Tim gives you a playful smirk and dips you all of a sudden, holding your thigh when you pull your leg inward. You feel your face burn, squeaking as you wrap your arms around his neck.
"Oh yeah?" He laughs.
"You're such a tease." You give him a playful glare.
You tilt your head up, wrapping your popped leg around his thigh and pull yourself up to kiss him.
You had made a bit of a mistake tonight. You decided to order much more wine than you were used to drinking, and now you were much more drunk than you intended to be.
"I shoulda listened to you.." You whined, trying to hide your face in Brian's jacket.
You had it wrapped around your shoulders, sitting on the floor of the bar's bathroom. He was kneeled behind you, his arm braced on your chest to keep you upright and his other hand holding your hair out of your face.
"It's alright, baby. We all mistakes. Remember that time I threw up on your carpet when I was wasted? Can't be more embarrassing than that, huh?" He says, giving you a smile.
You snort at his comment, leaning back against him. He combs your hair with his fingers, shifting down to a sitting position and pulling you into his lap. You sat sideways in his lap; your back being braced by his arm and your face tucked into the side of his neck. Beside him is a glass of water he grabbed for you beforehand. Occasionally, he grabs it and gently presses it between your lips, making you take small sips every so often.
"Feelin' any better, baby?" He asks after a while of this.
You give him a shaky nod, burrowing yourself further into his coat. You tug the hood on over your now sweat soaked hair, still clammy from getting sick.
"Do you think you can make it on the ride home or do you need a couple more minutes?" Brian asks, helping you fix the hood of the jacket so it wasn't hanging over your eyes and pushing your hair into your eyes.
"Mm.. I can make it." You mutter, blinking a couple times.
Brian studies your face for a little longer, tugging the hood a little farther back to get a good look of you properly. After determining you were conscious enough to be moved, he nodded and began the process of getting you to your feet. He started by pushing himself to a kneeling position with your arms wrapped around his neck, before pushing himself up with his arms and bracing against the wall as he tugged you up with him. He scooped you up, instructing you to wrap your arms and legs around his torso, before unlocking the stall door and carrying you out. You kept your face buried in his shoulder, clinging to him as tightly as you could.
The chill of the night air hit you once he stepped into the parking lot, making you hug him even tighter. Brian patted your back as he walked to his truck, keeping one hand on you and using the other to open the side passenger door to his pickup. You don't remember much from the car ride home. You remember Brian buckling you in and having to pull over at some point because you thought you were going to be sick again, but most of what you remember in the morning comes from once you were actually home.
Brian picked you up and carried you into your house, setting you down on your bed and helping you get undressed. You begged for his shirt to sleep in, and he agreed.
"Will you stay over tonight?" You asked.
Brian hesitated for a moment. Worry grazed over his face, thinking about the consequences of showing up late tomorrow to a job. But once glance at you settled his mind, and he climbed into bed next to you.
Tobias Rogers - I Wish That We Could Lose This Crowd
You probably should have anticipated the club being this loud, but in a smaller town like this it seems a little ridiculous. You were stood at the bar, yelling over the music and trying to order drinks for you and your boyfriend, who was currently nearly glued to your side.
"Baby?" He muttered, voice barely audible over the blaring sounds of the club.
"Just a second!" You yelled back, still struggling through a conversation with the bartender.
Toby flinched backwards. He was aware that the yelling was a part of being in a loud environment, but boy, it was not doing him any favors in terms of staying calm. He began to chew on his lip, his tongue fidgeting with the scar tissue on his cheek. Around him, blaring lights, sounds, and the suffocating feeling of bodies pressed against his was beginning to wear on him. His mind was screaming to run.
Eventually, your drinks finally came. You grabbed both of them, turning to Toby only to notice he looked like he was trying to hide in his own shirt. A tinge of guilt shot through you, gently brushing his hand with yours to get his attention. When he turned to look at you, you mouthed; "Want to go outside?"
Toby nodded profusely, following your lead as you cleared the crowd for him. Despite being a foot shorter than him, you walked with a confidence he lacked that made people move. He trailed behind you as you reached the exit, pushing the door open with your shoulder and holding it for him as he stepped into the night.
"You wanna sit down, honey?" You asked softly.
Toby nodded, trying to steady his breathing as he sat down on the curb. You joined him, setting the soda he ordered next to him. You fished an ice cube out of his cub and offered it to him. He gladly took it, chewing on the ice cube instead of his lip and rocking back and forth in place. The two of you sat in silence as your boyfriend caught his breath, the only sound being Toby chewing on ice and you occasionally sipping your drink.
"I'm sorry, I should have noticed sooner." You say after a while, once it seemed like he's calmed down a bit.
"It-It's.. fine? I mean it-it's not, but I forgive you," Toby whispered, "...I'm sor-sorry for ruining this."
Your heart dropped, leaning forward and gently taking his hand.
"Honey, you didn't ruin anything. I am at fault here, okay? Don't apologize. I should've thought this over more before bringing you here," You continued, "It was pretty loud even for me, it's completely understandable to want to leave."
You stared into his eyes, your features soft and concerned with the man in front of you. Toby's shoulders relaxed, leaning into you and resting his head on your shoulder.
"I do-don't think I'm up for this t-to-onight..." He mumbled after a while.
"That's okay. We have drinks at home. Hell, it's probably better there anyways," You offer, "We can watch a movie or something. Whatever you want."
"How much do you wanna bet I can drink you under the table?" You say, leaning in on Jeff's space.
He eyes you from his seat next to you. You're both sat at a table towards the back of the bar, each with your own glass of whiskey. Currently, yours is halfway finished while his only has ice cubes left. Slowly, he turns to face you.
"You really think you can do that? Really?" He snorts, "Come on, we both know you won't even be close."
"I'll give you twenty bucks if I'm wrong. What'll you give me if I win?" You grin, not letting up.
Jeff thinks for a moment, grabbing an ice cube out of his glass and crunching it between his teeth. He thinks for a moment before smirking and digging into his wallet. You pump your fists and lean in closer to see what he has until he nudges you away with his shoulders.
"Jesus, no one ever taught you personal space, huh?" He mutters, rolling his eyes as he rifled through his change, "I've got thirty bucks. That good enough for you?"
"I'll take it!" You reply, already getting to your feet to grab more drinks from the bar for the both of you.
You end up ordering shots of whiskey, seven for each of you. Jeff immediately tells you that it's an unnecessary amount, but you ignore him. Your first shot goes down smoothly. Your second burns but you feel fine. The third you think you still feel fine, but Jeff points out that your head is starting to wobble.
"Doing all right there?" He smiles, cocking his head at you.
"Shuddup." You shoot back.
By the end of the night, Jeff's side of the table is lined with seven empty shot glasses all turned upside down. Yours features four and a half. Your head is swimming and face down on the table, groaning to yourself. Next to you, Jeff is obnoxiously fanning himself with your twenty dollars, tipsy but still upright.
"Thas not normal..." You mumble, peaking your face up to glare at him.
"I did warn you, didn't I?" He says, a shit eating grin on his face as he leans closer to you.
He ruffles your hair, snorting as you try to slap him away and fail miserably. When you reach forward to try and finish off your fifth shot, he takes it from you and finishes it himself.
"Alright, that's enough. Come on, let's go home."
He rounds the table and practically carries you out of the bar, supporting most of your weight on the way out. Out front, he holds you up while waiting for the Uber.
"Mm...that was unfair.." You slur, bumping your head against his shoulder.
"Sure, sure. Just try to stay awake til we're home, mkay?" He laughs.
You whine and tuck your face into his hoodie. His hand comes up to squeeze your shoulders a little tighter, tucking you against his side.
"You're fine, don't be a baby because you lost."
"Do you still love me?" You mumble.
"What?" Jeff genuinely pauses, turning to stare at you, "Where the fuck is this coming from?"
You shrug loosely, your eyes slipping closed as you leaned against him even more.
"I dunno.. I just want you to like me," You mutter, your words becoming less comprehensible by the second, "I lost so maybe 'm not cool enough to date you."
"Fucks sake. You're drunk and it's making you dumber than usual," Jeff grumbles, "I still love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here. Don't ask dumb questions..."
His face burned bright red all the way home, and you pretend to not remember it the next morning.
Jack stuck to the secluded parts of the bar, tucked away in corners, his hood pulled over his eyes and shadowing most of his face. No one comes close to him, not that he minds much. Instead, his attention is focused solely on you. Currently, you're up on the karaoke stage, any stage fright you had previous dulled by the drink in your hand. You're up there without a care in the world, swaying back and forth, singing loudly into the microphone and barely following around with the screen.
He's pretty sure your eyes are actually closed as you dance about the stage. You'll regret this in the morning, but right now, you are happy and careless, and he can't help but think that you look beautiful under these lights. Other people in the bar stare too, some clapping or cheering lightly for you, some just ignoring the drunkard on the mic. Regardless, he is focused solely on you. Before you, he never really understood the appeal of bars. Just a place to find vulnerable meals for him, sometimes with less than stellar quality in terms of livers. But watching you, EJ thinks that he begins to understand. Finishing up the song, you get a scattered round of applause as you stumble off the stage and back towards your boyfriend.
"Have fun, dearest?" He asks, his hands coming up to your forearms to steady you.
You smile at him brightly, eyes gleaming. You giggle and tuck your face into his neck, pulling him into a loose hug.
"I did! Did you see me?" You laugh.
A smile pulls at the sides of his mouth.
"I did. You were excellent."
He doesn't care if it's not true. If anything, it was true to him. This seems to please you as you giggle again and peck his cheek shamelessly. Neither of you are bothered by the stares or aggressively avoidant looks by this point.
"I have decided that I rather like bars." EJ says as he slings your arm over his shoulders and scoops you up princess style.
You laugh loudly as he lifts you, carrying you out to the car.
"Oh yeah?" You ask, moonlight dancing across your face as he walks through the parking lot, "Good! I liked going with you."
EJ feels his heart flutter. He leans in close to you and presses a quick kiss to your lips as he helps you into the car.
You were currently sat on a bar stool, sipping on a Shirley Temple and swinging your feet back and forth. Nat had gone to the bathroom, leaving you to sit alone at the bar and wait until she came back. Currently, you were simply people watching, your back resting against the bar with your stool turned all the way around to face the rest of the room. Unbeknownst to you, the man sitting next to you was currently eyeing you up and down. After a moment, he found it in himself to speak to you.
"Hey, how's it going?" He asked, flashing you a grin as he leaned on his elbow on the bar.
You gave him a polite smile back, shifting awkwardly on your stool.
"Ah good, just waiting up for someone." You replied.
"Mm, yeah I saw you with your friend earlier. You two having a girl's night?" He grinned, taking a swig of his beer.
You paused for a moment. Nat wasn't your friend. She was your girlfriend. However, this was also the deep, deep south where a lack of tolerance could easily get you shot, wedging you between a rock and a hard place. After thinking it over for a moment, you decide safety is the best option while alone.
"Ah.. yeah! We're just bar hopping around town a bit." You shrug, swishing your glass around. Your eyes flicker away from him, focusing on a cherry in your glass.
"Sounds exciting," He smirks, "What's your name?"
The man leans a little closer, narrowing his eyes at you, still keeping a sleezy smirk on his face as he waits for your answer. Before you can open your mouth, Nat is suddenly between the two of you, her arms crossed in front of her and facing him with a glare as she leans her hip against the counter. She glances back at you from over her shoulder, still keeping herself firmly between the two of you.
"Hey pretty girl, you ready to head somewhere new?" She asks, clearly trying to force her voice to be as calm as possible.
You didn't even see her storm over to you, she just suddenly wedged herself between the two of you and cut him off. The guy reels back when she appears, taking his elbow off the bar and straightening up at her appearance. His eyes shift down meekly when he catches a glance at the stitches around her mouth and her eyepatch.
You grin at her and nod. She smiles back at you and offers you her hand. You set your now empty glass on the bar and take her hand, using it to hop off the stool and join her side. She shamelessly pulls you into her side, squeezing your thigh and kissing your lips, before pulling you past the guy without sparing him a glance.
You don't fight her as you follow her, a bit winded from the sudden kiss, but you still scold her as you walk away.
"That was cruel, Nat. He was just being nice."
"He was undressing you with his eyes, sweetheart," She mutters, her gaze sharpening. She doesn't waver, focused forward despite her still brewing jealousy, "No one's allowed to do that besides me."
You spend the rest of the night tucked against her side, your head resting on her chest.
You had never been to a goth club before, and to be honest, you were a tad nervous. You always found alternative styles cool, but you never had the time to actually try it out before Jane came into your life. She did your makeup for you; trad goth just like her mask's design.
"What a beautiful girl." She cooed, pressing a kiss against your neck to avoid smudging your makeup.
She lent you a dress of hers too, covered in black lace and corset tied in the back. She stood behind you in the mirror, wearing a dress of similar style but ballgown length and in a deep velvet red.
"You look gorgeous, doll." She drawled into your ear, brushing her face against your hair.
At home you agreed with her, but now you were standing in the club off near the side of the bar, feeling a little out of place. Jane was currently ordering the both of you drinks and complimenting others standing nearby. Everyone around you seemed to know each other, and even more intimidating was the dance floor. You watched as people glided about, swaying and moving with fluidity you didn't know how to replicate in the slightest.
Eventually Jane rejoined your side, leaning against the bar next to you and passing you the cocktail you asked for. She lightly clinks her glass against yours and tags a swig. You barely react to her, keeping your eyes glued to your drink. After a moment, she tilts her head and angles it down in your direction, lowering herself so you're forced to look her in the eyes.
"Are you alright, darling?" She asks, her voice concerned and soft.
When you don't respond, she gently takes your hand and leads you into the women's bathroom, taking both of your glasses and setting them on the sink. She gently pushes you against the sink, her hands on your hips.
"Tell me what's happening, doll." She whispers.
You look up at her, meeting her eyes. She has her mask pulled to the side so you can see her face properly. Her expression is one of patience and concern as she watches you.
"I'm just nervous, that's all," You whisper back, "Everyone here just seems so cool, I'm scared I'll make a fool of myself."
Jane smiles softly, her eyes lighting up in amusement.
"You? My beautiful girl making a fool of herself?" She leans closer, brushing her nose against yours, "Darling, if anyone should be nervous, it should be me. I have the most beautiful girl in the world on my arm; I'll have to be fighting to keep eyes off of you all night."
Her voice drops low, breathy sounding and methodical. You feel your face burn red, thankful for your foundation currently hiding it.
"We don't have to dance together if you don't want to, but I would be absolutely honored if you gave me the bragging rights to it."
You obliged to her request after finishing your drinks. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't as fluid as you wanted, but as you watched your lover dance you didn't find yourself caring as much as you thought you would.
Leaning against the back wall across from the dance floor, you watched as your girlfriend practically bounced from place to place. Occasionally, you'd feel a jolt of concern, seeing her stumble in her heels, only to calm down once she caught herself. Earlier in the night, she begged you to order her rainbow shots from the bartender. You obliged, finding it hard to say no to her, and now she was thoroughly tipsy and trying to make as many friends as she could.
You didn't see a problem with it. You were watching her and she was a much better fighter than you are anyways. Currently, she was chatting with two other drunk girls, the three of them gushing over each other's outfits and exchanging Instagrams. After they seemed to be done talking, Nina happily pranced back to your side.
"Making friends, honey?" You asked her, reaching forward to pull her bangs out of her eyes.
She giggles and snorts, throwing her arms over your shoulders and pressing you against the way.
"Mhm! They were both super pretty, right?" She cooed, looking up at you with sparkling eyes.
You nodded in agreement. Not as pretty as the girl currently in your arms, but pretty nonetheless.
"Everyone here is so nice!" Nina continues, humming to herself as she rocked back on her heels, "No one's looked at me weird alll night!"
You put your hand on her waist and hold her upright. You nod to her, a frown grazing your face. You wish everyone was kind to her all the time, but small victories mattered just as much.
"You're being quiet, baby, what's wrong?" She hummed, swaying back and forth in your arms.
"Nothing. Can't a gal be jealous her girlfriend is being called pretty by other women?" You reply, fixing your face with a playful smile.
Nina smiles back. You can tell that she knows you're not telling the whole truth, but she doesn't care enough to push you any further. Instead, she pauses, thinking for a moment before grinning wider and outstretching her arms.
"Be a doll and carry me to the car?" Her eyes glint mischeviously.
You smirk back at her, amused.
"Hm... I don't know, are you really that drunk?" You tease.
She crosses her arms and tilts her head back, meeting your gaze and cocking her head to the side.
"Oh, well I suppose I'll just go home with those girls then..." Nina turns around, whipping her hair in your face.
She doesn't get far, as you comply and scoop her up in a bridal carry. She laughs loudly, the sound bubbly and airy as you carry her out of the bar, your head held high.
kiss your screen every time you see a typo or grammatical error in my fics because it means it's home grown and not some ai bullshit and im dead serious about this
I am a southern Tim truther. I do find it really funny whenever people characterize him as a serious, gentlemanly toughass southern man; because he is a gentleman and he is very strong, but he is also such a sassy silly goose in canon. So, he's more of a silly sweetheart southern man to me (I'm southern and they are my favorite flavor of southern men). Calling you sugar or honey is a given.
Brian just uses baby. Sweet and simple and caring. It's a touch of normalcy he misses in his life, and it's fitting.
I think Toby would also just say baby, but in a different tone. It's more of a whine than the doting tone Brian has. I think he's also prone to calling female partners ma'am. He's a little lame.
I don't see Jeff as a pet name type of guy to be honest. He calls you a parasite sarcastically, not out of genuine malice. The best name he can call you is your own. Sometimes if he's feeling sweet, he drawls it out, low and careful.
EJ reads to me as someone who calls his partner "dearest". He seems old fashioned and polite with his words. He speaks shortly, but his words are practiced and clearly well thought through. Dearest slinks into his language easily.
I am a firm believer that Nat is a lesbian, and I will not budge on it. She calls you "sweet girl" and "pretty girl", making sure to lower and drawl her voice out every time she does it. Sometimes she says it in a patronizing tone if you're being difficult.
Jane is in the same vein. She calls you "beautiful girl", "doll", "darling", any flowery term of endearment that comes to mind to her. She's like Jack in the sense that her words are careful and practiced, but she doesn't have his clinical tone. She talks more like a poet and refers to you as her greatest muse.
Nina uses every single pet name she can think of, bouncing between baby, sugar, honey, pudding with ease. She gives me Harley Quinn vibes sometimes. Very bouncy and sweet, but a lil crazy and can absolutely fuck you up if she wants. I think she calls her victims pet names too, just using barely a different tone with you.
A whole lotta domestic fluff (purely self indulgent). Forgive me for any incoherency or mistakes, this was written at 4:00am.
Timothy Wright - Lazy Mornings
The sun had yet to rise when Tim's alarm went off, the window next to your bed showing that it was still nearly pitch-black outside. You cracked one eye open to look at your boyfriend, finding that he was still dead asleep, snoring softly into your hair. Blinking a couple times, you squinted in the darkness and drew yourself closer to him with a groan. You patted his arm, which was currently wrapped securely over your torso with a whine.
"Your alarm is going off..."
Tim mumbled something inaudible to you, aimlessly reaching for his phone without opening his eyes. Eventually he grabbed a hold of it and turned off the noise, settling back into you with a heavy sigh.
"Don't you need to get up?" You asked drowsily.
"Five more minutes." He muttered back, tucking his face back into the crown of your head. He silenced anymore questions with a peck on your nose, prompting you to tuck your face back into his collarbone.
Now that you were awake, you found it difficult to go back to sleep, but you didn't find yourself minding much. Tilting your head back a bit, your gaze settled on your boyfriend's sleeping face. His mouth was slightly open, drooling a tad and snoring softly. You hummed fondly under your breath, scooting closer and resting a hand on the side of his face, gently rubbing his cheek with your thumb while you admired him.
Slowly the sun crept into your room. Tim had definitely overslept, but as he pressed a kiss into your forehead, he couldn't find it in himself to care. The two of you got up together, silently brushing your teeth and passing each other the other's meds when asked.
"What are we feeling for breakfast?" He asked, standing behind you while you brushed out your hair.
He slinked an arm over your waist and leaned against your back, resting his chin on your shoulder as he did.
"I'll go pick up whatever you want. We can have breakfast in bed." He continued with a grin, flashing yellowed teeth and raising his eyebrows at your reflection in the mirror.
You smiled back, turning your head to kiss his cheek and brushing your face against his sideburns.
"We've both already overslept enough, don't tempt me," You giggled, "How about we go to that diner down the street instead?"
He rolled his eyes playfully, still grinning.
"Fine fine.. I'd be a hermit if not for you." He replies.
"You were for a little bit, weren't you?" You teased, setting your hairbrush down and turning to face him.
He leaned forward more, pushing your back against the counter as you cocked your head back to look at him.
"That was uncalled for, sugar." He said, poking your ribs as he did.
You giggled again, swatting at his hand and slinking around him with ease, his eyes trailing you as you walked to the closet. With a smirk he came up behind you again and reached around you, grabbing himself a shirt and a pair of jeans out of the closet. As he did, he kissed the side of your face.
"The diner it is then. Don't worry about bringing your wallet, I gotcha."
Brian wakes you up, peppering your face with kisses until your eyes flutter open.
"Time to get up, come on," He whispers.
You bury your face in his chest, making him laugh quietly.
"No, no hiding. Come on."
He bribes you with the promise of some sort of caffeinated drink. Both of you work early mornings. You think he's weird for enjoying the structure of it, meanwhile he doesn't understand why you need to sleep as much as you do. He offers to brush your hair while you brush your teeth, and you happily let him.
He's careful, gently untangling any knots with his hands in case the brush wasn't doing the job. At one point, the brush catches on a tangle and yanks your head backwards. Brian presses a hand on the back of your head and kisses the back of your neck.
"Sorry baby, I'll be more careful."
He continues brushing out your hair, taking the time to be slow and methodical with it. You start falling asleep standing up, enjoying the sensation of having your hair played with. He brushes his knuckles over your shoulder softly, mumbling to you.
"All done, baby. Come on now,"
He takes your hand and pulls you along, letting you trail behind him while half asleep. He pulls a chair out for you at the kitchen table and guides you to sit down, before moving to start making breakfast. Your eyes drift to the kitchen window, admiring the start of the rising sun. You gaze trails to Brian, admiring him as he worked.
Your boyfriend always carried a distinct sadness in his eyes that seemed to fade in moments like this. He always seemed like his own mind tired him, his hands heavy with weapons often. But here, he is just yours, and that is all. That sadness seems far away, barely existent in the eyes of the man making you breakfast.
When walks back to the table, setting his plate across from you and your plate in front of you, you reach up and pull him down. Your lips brush against his, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
"Thank you." You smile.
"Anything, baby," He replies.
He doesn't match your smile, already steeling himself for the day. But he holds your hand across the table as you eat, watching him gaze out the window as the day approaches.
The hardest part of waking up for Toby is letting go. You're the first to wake in the mornings, squirming and blinking awake. You lean forward and brush a kiss against his lips. He follows you subconsciously when you pull back, his eyes flickering open, lips pursed expectantly for another kiss.
"It's time to get up," You whisper to him.
He groans and squeezes you tighter, curling into you like he's trying to climb into your skin. Toby looks up at you, resting his head on your chest and tilting his head forward with his lips still pursed.
"Nope. Only awake boyfriends get second kisses." You say, turning your head away from him.
He looks baffled each time, no matter how many times you do this. Eventually, your bribery works and he pulls himself out of bed, dragging you with him. He's always quiet when he first wakes up, leaving you to do most of the talking. You ramble to him about dreams, about your plans for today. He hums little noises of agreement and interest. By the time you're both in the kitchen, he's started rambling to you as well.
"You wa-wanna try and make wa-ffles this mornin-ing?" He asks, "I never see yo-u use that waffle ma-maker of yours, might a-as well give it a shot, hm?"
When you point out you don't have any materials for batter, he simply grabs his car keys. The two of you end up wandering a 24-hour convenience store at 7:00am in your pajamas, giggling as you try to find appropriate substitutes for certain ingredients. You get lucky and find waffle batter. Toby insists that you take three bags just to be safe.
This was a good decision on his part as both of you can't even seem to boil water for tea. The first batch of waffles leaves your house smelling burnt and sickly sweet. While waiting for the second attempt to cook, Toby dares you to take a bite of the ruined waffles.
"How much money will you give me?" You ask with a skeptical look at the pile of charred waffles.
"I h-have a quar-quarter."
You take his deal. The waffles taste like ass, and despite telling Toby this, he still takes a bite out of guilt for making you try them. His whole-body shivers when he does so and he apologizes to you profusely. The second batch is actually edible and the two of you share your victory, drowning them in syrup.
Jeff is always awake before you without fault. His missing eyelids provide no clues on whether he's awake or not, so instead you've learned to recognize his breathing. At night when he's asleep, he breathes slowly, almost wheezy through his mouth. Meanwhile, when he's awake, he breathes more through his nose. Jeff's nose whistles a bit when he breathes. He hates when you mention it, but you find it cute.
Currently, you were laid on top of him with your head on his chest, listening to the whistling sound of his breathing and watching as the sun slowly peaked through the closed blinds of the bedroom. One of his hands slowly combed through your hair, while the other rested on your lower back, rubbing up and down with his thumb. You allowed the silence to last for a little longer, shutting your eyes and enjoying the incoming sunbeams on your skin. After a while, you let out a yawn and turned your head, resting your chin on his chest and staring into his eyes.
"Finally. I've been laying here for hours, jeez." He muttered, his voice sounding extra hoarse in the mornings.
You dragged yourself closer, smushing your face into his neck with a sigh. He huffed, rolling his eyes and replacing his hand on your head.
"Just woke up and already clinging to me like a parasite," He grumbled, scratching your scalp, "You really are like a leech, ya know that? You take my food, my body heat, my clothes. Greedy little bastard..."
"Mhm..sure am." You mumble back, a sense of pride in your voice.
You lean your head further into his hand, enjoying the sensation. Eventually, he scoffs, removing his hand from your scalp and flicking your nose with his finger.
"Alright, that's enough. Your breath stinks, get up and go brush your teeth."
"Ironic coming from you," You tease, grinning at him and pushing yourself off of him.
Jeff rolls his eyes again, stretching as he pushes himself out of bed as well. His bones audibly pop as he does, shooting you a glare when you snort.
"You're annoying." He mutters, standing next to you at the bathroom mirror.
"Right back at you." You reply, giving him a petty wink as you get to brushing your teeth.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Jeff try to apply his eyedrops, grumbling to himself.
"Need a-"
"No." He cuts you off with a sharp glare in your direction.
You watch him struggle for a couple more minutes, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. You focus on your phone, until he steps between your legs, holding out the eyedrops and avoiding eye contact.
You grin, setting your phone aside and take the drops from him. Gently, you play a hand on his chin and tilt his head back and to the side, applying a couple drops to each eye. He looks up at you the entire time, allowing you to direct his head however you please until you finish.
You wake up alone, sometime past 9:30am. Despite waking up on your own, you smell your lover's cologne all over you, thanks to the oversized sweatshirt hanging off your shoulders. Climbing out of bed, you are met with traces of EJ. In the bathroom, your meds are already sorted in their correct dosages in your pill organizer. On the chair next to your wardrobe, a shirt of his sits, folded as an offering for you to wear during the day. Walking out into your kitchen yields an already cooked breakfast with instructions on how to reheat the pancakes he made so they don't get soggy. A stack of twenties sits on the counter as well, a handwritten note in cursive, reading:
"I love you; you looked beautiful this morning. Get yourself whatever you need for today. See you tonight."
You don't remember him getting out of bed at 5:00am to go do his job, or the kiss he pressed into your forehead, but you know he would never leave without doing so. Jack is quiet on his feet, allowing him to slip out of your room and make your day a little easier before it even starts.
When he gets home at the end of the day, he sits with you at the counter, listening to you ramble about your day and answering you with any questions you might have about what he did all day. You make dinner together, mostly consisting of him trying to keep you out of the kitchen for his own organizational sanity, and watch movies on the couch until you fall asleep. He nitpicks any medical show you watch and any horror movie with the slightest bit of unrealistic gore. His voice is calming. You wake up in your bed regardless of where you fell asleep, and he's gone again by morning.
Natalie stares at your face as you sleep, your entire body balanced on top of her. As uncomfortable and crushing as it may seem, she actually slept better this way. The compression helped soothe her nerves and quiet her mind for a bit. She also certainly didn't mind getting to stare at your face. Nat passed a glance at the clock on the bedside table, huffing under her breath when she saw it was almost morning. Turning on her side, she pulled you down with her so that you were sandwiched between her and the wall the bed was pushed up against.
"Mrph..Nat.." You mumbled, turning your head to look at her.
"What is it, sweet girl?" She cooed, curling up more against you.
"You're squishing me." You pointed out.
"Just trying to keep you trapped here forever and ever~" She hummed, tucking her face against your neck and beginning to pepper it with soft kisses.
With a soft sigh, you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling yourself closer to her as well. You gently nudged her legs, slotting your thigh between hers when she parted them for you.
"You aren't hungry at all?" You whisper to her, gently nudging her face out of hiding with your shoulder.
"Not enough to move." She replied with a shrug.
You admire the way her hair falls over her shoulders and frames her face, reaching up to tuck part of her bangs behind her ear. She met your gaze with a smile.
"What a sweet girl.." She whispered teasingly, leaning forward.
You met her in the middle, pressing your lips against hers, feeling as her hands came up to cup your face and pull you closer. She nips at your bottom lip when you pull away, grinning to herself proudly.
"You're a menace, Nat." You say with a smirk to match hers.
"I know," She states, "You're going to force me to get up with you now, aren't you?"
You do your best impression of an innocent smile, and she swats at your shoulder.
"Oh yeah, and I'm the menace, huh?" She huffs, finally loosening her grip on you.
I Know Those Eyes, This Man is Dead
Dividers made by Pixopix
Word Count: 1.2k
Your boyfriend is reported as dead. He shows up on your doorstep a month later, and you act as he taught you to.
First fic, kinda nervous. Sorry if it's not very good!
A pistol weighs heavy in your hands. It wasn't always yours; he gave it to you. The man who used to occupy the body in front of you handed it to you one night, a night when you muttered about being afraid of the dark and the loneliness of living in the woods. Tim had taught you how to use it, and most importantly, when to.
Last June you stood in the backyard of your home, the same place you stood now, pine trees towering over your heads where the end of your property line blended into the forest. The sun was just beginning to set, leaving an orange hue over the landscape. Your lover's eyes glinted in the light, patient as he moved to fix your hold on the gun.
"Hold it closer. Holding it out like that makes it easier to disarm you," Tim corrected.
He pushed your arm inward, moving you so both of your hands were on the gun.
"Press your hand against the bottom of the handle... yep, just like that sugar," He mumbled, "Before you shoot, always make sure the magazine is fully pushed in. It should click into place."
He nudged your hand a little more until the mag clicked, smiling once you glanced at him for confirmation. He claimed that he gave it to you for safety, but a part of both of you knew it was more for his peace of mind than yours.
Now, your finger rested next to the trigger, bracing on the handle. The gun felt heavier by the second, your hands feeling nearly numb as you stared into his eyes. Tim didn't bother raising his hands to plead with you, instead keeping his arms limp at his side. Both of you were out of proper form. You had your arms outstretched, holding the gun against his temple instead of cradled against your chest. A part of you hoped he would disarm you, a part of you hoped he would do the hard part.
"Tim died a month ago." You muttered.
You tried to keep your voice firm, icy, merciless for the stranger in front of you. Yet it still wavered. Your hands began to shake as he stayed silent, his eyes burring into yours. They carried the same soft glow from that summer afternoon.
"I would never shoot you." You had insisted.
His eyebrows knitted together. His smirk did not reach his eyes, dulling as you insisted you would never hurt him. Tim let out a long sigh. The moon had begun to raise into the sky, shadows hiding the target you had been practicing with as the two of you walked back towards the house.
"You don't want to shoot me, but you could do it," He replied, trying to sound indifferent to the notion, "You're tougher than you think."
He dug into his pockets, pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Tim put one in his mouth and flicked open his lighter, lighting it and taking a long drawl as you continued to ramble.
"I couldn't. Why would I ever need to?" You asked.
It's a redundant question. You're more than aware of his job, and you're more than aware of how his mind often isn't his own. He gives you a look wavering on pity and doubt.
"Please promise me, if I don't seem right, you would," Tim stopped in his tracks, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.
He spoke with a desperation you were unused to. And you faltered, studying the pistol in your hands.
Your hands tremble again, just like they did on that walk home. You hope the real Tim would be proud of you, not the shell you were locked eyes with.
"He's dead," You reiterate. You can't tell if you're trying to convince yourself or him.
Tim doesn't budge. He instead steps closer, pressing his forehead further against the barrel.
The first time you met Brian was a month ago, when he handed you a blood-soaked jacket, muttering a dull sounding apology. You had only heard stories about him from Tim, but that day you cried into his arms like you had known him for years. You screamed until you couldn't speak.
Your eyes begin to well with tears, finger moving to hover over the trigger.
"Oh, baby..." Tim whispers, "I'm sorry."
Those words give you pause. Gentle, and soft, and careful, and guilty. They sound so much like him. Would the monster he spoke of ever be able to sound that soft? Even using his body? Your vision blurs. If this isn't your boy, the real one would be disappointed in you for breaking your promise as you drop your arm to your side. The gun thumps uselessly against your leg, still trembling like a leaf.
The man with your boyfriend's face steps forward and you brace yourself. Luckily, you're met with his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he tucks your head into his collarbone. You feel like screaming again.
"Brian told me you died." You manage to croak out.
"I know, I'm sorry," Tim mutters back to you.
"I have your jacket." You sob into his shirt, knees nearly buckling.
He's quick to brace you, tossing your arms over his shoulders and shifting to hold you up by your waist instead. Four weeks spent crying in bed, the gun resting on your nightstand as your only means of feeling secure ever again, finally all come to a head. You cry so hard that you begin to feel sick.
"You did good," He assures you, "I'm proud of you."
The words feel useless to you, a surge of anger rushing through your veins and making them feel ice cold.
"Why did you leave me?" You demand, voice still hoarse with grief.
Tim's eyes shine a bit; you've never seen him try to hold back tears before. He manages to straighten himself out, clearing his throat and instead beginning to lead you inside. You dig your heels into the dirt, stopping him. You want answers now. He obliged to your demand, eyes softening with a hint of amusement at your stubbornness.
"I didn't mean to," He admits, "It wasn't Brian's fault either, he thought I was genuinely dead. Hell, I thought I was a goner for a bit too."
Tim continues, sliding his hands down your arms to hold your hands. They feel calloused and rough against yours.
"I took a bullet to the chest and took off my jacket to see the damage. It was pitch black out in the middle of nowhere and I lost my phone and my coat, so I just walked til I found somewhere to shelter for a bit," He explained, "The Operator kept me til my wound healed, and I suppose it didn't bother telling Brian I was alive."
He glares with irritation towards the tree line like it's going to be there waiting for him. The way he often spoke about it, you assumed it might as well be. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, your body becoming shakier by the moment as you fully slumped against Tim. He chuckled softly, holding the back of your head with his hand and slinking the other around your waist again.
"You scared me so bad," You mumble miserably.
"I missed you too, sugar." He whispers into your ear.
"I missed you more," You grumble back, "And you're never doing that ever again."
He laughs again, quiet and sounding just as tired as you.
I have watched Marble Hornets up to Season 2 (I will be done with Season 3 shortly) but I still like to take creative liberties with the personalities. I also try to diverge from the canon storyline to avoid spoilers for people who haven't seen the whole series but be aware that I might incorporate small pieces of canon into my writing!
As for Creepypastas, since the canon stories are often vague in terms of character personality, I take as much creative interpretation as I want!
I enjoy writing physically and mentally disabled characters as someone who is both so expect to see that in my writings and don't be afraid to ask me to write about stuff like that.
Each character's personal romance/romantic partner takes place in a different universe/canon to avoid continuity errors. The creepypastas follow the common canon of the slender mansion and stuff (because I find it charming) whereas characters in the Marble Hornets' universe and proxies like Toby and Kate all live in a separate cabin. They are often influenced and affected by the Operator (Slender) depending on individual levels of sanity and willingness.
I do not write explicit smut. I may be suggestive in my writings, but I am not comfortable writing explicit sexual content.
I am willing to accept requests but understand that I may not see your ask or be comfortable writing some stuff.
I will not write non-con of any variety. This is nonnegotiable as it is for my own mental wellbeing.
Be respectful of real people! Marble Hornets' characters should always be distinguished from their real actors. Simp for the characters and find the actors attractive all you want, but do not harass them or get weird and parasocial about them. AKA, do not send my works to them please. For my dignity and for their peace.
Continuing this, do not ask me to write real person fanfiction. I'm not comfortable with it, so the answer will always be no.
ABSOLUTELY NO AI USAGE!! EVER!! You cannot train bots on my work, you cannot make bots inspired by my work, you cannot use any artwork I post to train AI, no AI means no AI!
You may however write things inspired by my canon or my work and make art based off of my work as long as it's made by your own hands. You may not write continuations of my unfinished work without my expressed permission. If it's unfinished, ask me about continuing it. If I say no, THEN ask if you can write your own fanfiction continuing it. Please tag me in anything you make inspired by my work and Do Not repost my stuff as your own anywhere!
I am willing to write for other fandoms, as long as their creepypasta and marble hornets adjacent! Just ask and I will give you my answer!
This is the most important rule; Fanfiction is free and I want it to stay fun for me! I'm a college student with a life who is also working on the side! So, while I love taking requests and I love interacting with people who love writing and reading fanfiction as much as me, I don't owe you anything and I do not know you. Please don't rush me or think you can demand things of me.
Hello! Your uploads are brilliant :] I have a request for you! Would you please make some green star/space themed dividers? Stars are my main priority :] Thank you!!!
Green Stars
Thank you so much! I tried to give you a couple shades of green to work with, hope these suit your needs!
Please credit @pixopix, likes and reblogs are appreciated!
