any thoughts of ftm tim. rain please. ftm tim with a fat t-dick in my mouth. WHO SAID THAT!
GIVE IT TO ME GIVE IT TO ME I AM DROOLING EVERYWHERE PUT THAT T-DICK IN MY MOUTHHHHHHHHHHHH. this is about to be incredibly thirsty.
As I type this, I am working on a Masky + Jeff t-dick headcannon thing so keep an eye out :)
Little afab Tim was the classic āmessy kid that you canāt tell if itās a boy or girl at first glanceā appearance. Shaggy haircut, scraped-up knees, always coming home muddy and bruised because he just needed to burn off that restless boy-energy.
Was nerdy as hellāobsessed with horror movies, superhero flicks, comics, anything violent and grotesque because it let him live out fantasies of being the tough, strong hero, even if everyone around him kept telling him he was supposed to be a ānice girl.ā Always compared himself to the big strong main character that always saved the day.
Loved to act out cop and robber or cowboy and rebel roles with friendsāa plastic knife tucked in his belt, running around yelling āIām the bad guy!ā and it just felt right, like the aggression belonged to him, and no one could tell him to sit still or be soft.
Had a couple neighborhood boys he hung around who accepted him as one of the guys, which helped him survive, but still went home to parents who forced him to wear skirts for family photos. That made him burn with shame.
When he got older, he fell into video cameras and storytellingādocumenting everything, creating worlds where he could be the character he wished he was. Masky, in a sense, was the grown-up evolution of those childhood roleplays: an identity that could be harsh, unbreakable, male.
Teen Tim would put on sports bras under giant hoodies, trying to flatten his chest while avoiding locker rooms, telling everyone āIām just shy,ā but really wanting to disappear. If anyone feminized him in childhood, it felt like being punched in the gutābut he didnāt have language for it. He only knew he hated hearing āyoung lady.ā
Heād definitely draw himself as a boy in school art projects. Comic heroes, video game characters, action dudesāheād design them to look like him, but male, an escape hatch.
As any media and internet rampant child does, Tim found transitioning and symbolic metaphors for such in film. The first real time learning what it meant to be trans was a film festival entry that gave a really poetic presentation on transitioning and the elements of that. He dove deeper, looking up buzz words and researching what a binder wasāand it kind of all went from there.
Thereās something heartbreakingly real about Tim using Masky to finally live out the fantasy of being strong, unstoppable, respected as a manāeven if it came at the cost of everything else.
Tim, by the time Marble Hornets starts, is probably only recently living openly as a trans man. Heās legally changed his name, maybe started low-dose T, maybe hasnāt even gotten top surgery yetāor decides not to get it at allādepends on how he feels.
He still feels raw and exposed, especially on camera. Heāll check angles obsessively so nobody catches sight of binder lines or any slip-ups. Those ābehind the scenesā takes where heās adjusting his hoodie? Thatās him making sure nothing is showing.
The anxiety is off the charts: not just because of the Operator, but because heās still working out how to be seen as Tim. Correcting people on pronouns, bracing for slips, constantly hyperaware of his voice, his shoulders, the way he takes up space on the crew.
Alex and Brian (Hoodie) respect him, and Masky becomes a tool to reclaim his masculinity. He makes Masky hyper-masculine on purpose: broad, terrifying, unstoppable. In the mask, he doesnāt worry about being read as ānot man enoughāāhe is a man, no questions.
During the stress of the Operator, that old dysphoria flares. He feels like his body is betraying him again, that heās too fragile, too easy to break. So he pushes harderātaking risks, doing dangerous stunts, trying to prove heās strong enough.
Physical dysphoria + mental decay go hand in hand. The constant Operator interference makes him doubt his reality, and he hyper-fixates on his body: āWhy do I still feel like a scared little kid?ā
The Operator, in a twisted way, makes him more determined to be Tim. If he dies, he wants to die as Tim, no one else. That fear fuels him to correct people sharply if they misgender him, even as the tapes keep rolling and the world collapses.
If you look at his movements during the seriesāhunched, guarded, tenseāitās partly the dysphoria talking. Heās so aware of how every part of him is being recorded, judged, preserved on film.
Thereās also a deep resentment. Heās just started to live his life as himself, to be free, and now this monstrous creature is tearing it away. Thereās a special kind of rage there, one that burns through every Masky appearance.
Tim grows up with this sense that ābeing a manā means being big, being loud, being dangerous. When heās younger, people treat him like a ātomboy,ā calling him āfeistyā or āwild,ā but it never feels right. It feels like theyāre letting him be ālike a boy,ā but not a boy. That cuts deepāso by the time he transitions, heās determined to go all the way.
In his head, real men are fearless, aggressive, capable of hurting if they have to, and respected because they can instill fear.
So once the Operator takes him and he becomes a proxy, that deep-seated idea comes roaring forward. Masky is built on it: a brutal, cold, unstoppable force. When Tim kills or threatens or screams at victims, itās catharticāhe feels powerful, like no one could ever misgender him again.
He channels every drop of dysphoria-fueled rage into becoming someone terrifying, because if you fear him, you canāt question him.
It goes from survival to performance: hyper-masculine, toxic, even, but it makes him feel safe. Killing is twistedly validating. Itās the ultimate declaration that he is a manāstrong enough to protect himself, violent enough to protect whatās his, and ruthless enough that no one will ever see āweakā again.
Thereās an almost childish logic behind it, like heās still that kid trying to prove he belongs in the boysā clubāexcept now the stakes are bodies and blood.
At night, maybe he lays awake and wonders if heās overcompensating, but the next day, heāll pull the mask on and stomp those doubts out. Because in the mansion, in the field, in the kill, he is Tim. He is a man. No one can argue that. No matter how loud is head is to tell him otherwise.