Menacing-Manicotti Backup

We do requests! Just send us an ask and we’ll get on it! (Headcanons, fics & art occasionally!)

[creepypastabilities]

(Reintroduction)

I have seen the algorithmic abyss… and I brought pasta.

HELLO? TUMBLR? IT’S ME. YOUR PROBLEM CHILD.

After five years of being the funniest, sexiest, most emotionally unstable side blog in existence, Tumblr said:

“What if… you simply didn’t exist?”

So now we’re here.

Welcome to Creepypastabilities — the disgraced celebrity cousin of Menacing-Manicotti.

We got shadowbanned so hard, even Slenderman couldn’t find us.

I stared into the algorithm.

The algorithm stared back.

Then it called me slurs and kicked me into the content abyss.

But did I give up?

No. I made a new blog and gave it another pasta pun name. Now that’s resilience.

If you’re from the old blog, welcome back.

If you’re new: grab a seat, grab a knife, and try not to fall in love with Jeff the Killer like it’s 2009 all over again.

Reblog to help this poor haunted lasagna of a blog escape algorithm jail.

Or don’t. I’ll just start whispering into your walls at night.

[creepypastabilities]

Mod Introduction!

Hello everyone! Time to do my introduction again; currently I’m the only mod on this blog until I get everything up and running consistently!

I go by Colby, I’m 20, She/Her!

I write mainly for Resident Evil (Especially Piers and Luis), Marble Hornets, Supernatural & Outlast! Occasionally I also do some art but I usually post that on my main @lyssophobiaa !

My other blog is; @awomanthatlovesyou (misc writing)

I’ll add a couple facts about myself too, like a Get To Know Me;

I am Australian Aboriginal!

I’ve been part of the Marble Hornets fandom for 13 years (unrestricted internet access what’s up)

I’ve been part of the Resident Evil fandom for 5 years (nearly 6..)

My favourite character is Piers Nivans!

& I’m pretty conversational in Spanish (not fluent.. but I know enough!)

[creepypastabilities]

Mod Introduction (Sam Edition!)

Hello everyone! I am Sam, the second mod of this blog! I’m sure you guys know me from menacing-manicotti (inactiveasdicks, or mod.dicks!) I am Colby’s sister and I’m officially a mod of the backup blog!! Yay!!

I go by Sam or Gracie, I’m 19 and my pronouns are She/They

I’ll write for anything really but my main interests are Resident Evil, Strangers From Hell, Supernatural and Outlast!

My main blog is @abagofteeth

Some facts about me:

I am Aboriginal and Hispanic

My favourite characters are Moonjo (SFH), Jongwoo (SFH), Miles Upshur (Outlast), The Walrider (Outlast), Chris Redfield (RE), Leon Kennedy (RE), Clancy Jarvis (RE), Lucas Baker, (RE), Piers Nivans (RE), Ethan Winters (Also RE..), Luis Serra (RE) and Albert Wesker (RE), Alex Kralie (MH), Tim Wright (MH) and Masky (also MH!)

I love cats and polar bears!

My Birthday is March 25th

That is all for now!!

[lyssophobiaa]

Please come back. I’m sorry.

[lyssophobiaa]

Happy birthday to me!

[cadennwaden]

partners

[daily-brim]

Can you please draw them as cats

28

[creepypastabilities]

Hey guys am I late or am I late to the Cowboy Tim trend?

[nathaimouse]

I did this quickly to test Alight Motion. I guess it didn't go that bad lmao

[grady3000]

[creepypastabilities]

Mm… Masky…. Guhhh

[creepypastabilities]

Howdy! My first time requesting lol,,,i'm little nervous ,but ok here i go

Since we had prompts about married Nurse Brian and Tim...could we have your take on a proposal?-v- I think it'd be really silly, aaaa, but I'm a fan of silly things.

Pd: I love your work

Howdy hey!! 💕✨ Welcome welcome!! First of all, thank you for trusting me with your first request—what an honor!! Your nerves are so valid, but I promise you there is nothing to be nervous about here!

You’re welcome to throw any idea, pairing, or vibe at me anytime. Be nervous, be dramatic, be ridiculous—I’ll match the energy with love, metaphors, and just the right amount of unhinged poetry <33

Now! Onto the writing!!

In a Fucking Hospital.

Pairing— Brian Thomas x Tim Wright (Marble Hornets.)

Brian had a plan.

Of course he did. He’s the kind of man who overthinks breakfast. The kind who keeps receipts just in case. The ring had been measured, the speech rehearsed. Something about coffee spoons and Tuesdays and how Tim folds laundry like he’s daring it to fight back. There were metaphors tucked into his jacket pocket, waiting to be unspooled under the right kind of sky.

It was going to be soft. Quiet. Some place far from all the places Tim had learned not to flinch.

But plans, as it turns out, are no match for love.

Especially not the kind Brian carries for Tim—wild, inconvenient, impossible. It doesn’t live in the chest. It burns behind the eyes. It’s terminal, the kind of love that rearranges your bones and teaches your hands to shake.

So when Tim walks into the hospital—his hospital—dragging a split lip and someone else’s blood on his sleeves, Brian forgets the speech, the ring, the concept of language entirely.

Because there he is.

Storm in the shape of a man. Mouth set like a warning. Hands bruised from consequence. He sits like the air is too heavy for his ribs, like he’s endured the worst of it already and still isn’t sure if he’s allowed to rest. Hospitals make him cagey. Always have. They remind him of rooms that locked behind him and people who wrote him down in margins instead of speaking to his face.

He doesn’t belong here. Not the way Brian does.

And still—he came.

And Brian, watching him breathe under the white-noise hush of fluorescent lighting, thinks: God, I love you.

No. Not thinks. Knows.

Has always known.

Like remembering a song your mother used to hum before you had words for melody.

He crosses the room too fast. The world doesn’t feel stable beneath his feet. He touches Tim’s jaw like he’s afraid the heat of his hand will scare him off. Like Tim is some bloodied, half-feral thing that wandered out of a myth and into a waiting room.

“What happened?” Brian asks, because his mouth doesn’t know what else to do.

Tim’s eyes flick upward, slow and unimpressed. “He called you a whore.”

Brian laughs. Short. Shocked. “So you punched him?”

Tim shrugs. “Only once.”

Brian’s chest folds in on itself. Not from guilt. Not from shame. But from that stupid, unbearable tenderness that always undoes him when Tim is like this—quiet and mean and loyal to the bone. Like violence is a form of worship. Like love is something that should bleed.

And then Brian says it.

No preamble. No kneeling. Just—

“Marry me.”

Tim freezes. As if the words just brushed against something vital.

“…What?”

Brian swallows. Hard. “Marry me.”

Tim stares at him the way men stare at wreckage. Like there’s something beautiful in what used to be whole.

“Here?” he asks. Voice flat, but not unkind. “Now?”

Brian can’t explain it. Not really. Only that the idea of waiting feels like holding his breath underwater. He has loved Tim in every possible way—at 3 a.m. and in grocery store aisles and in the silence between arguments. He has loved him across seasons, across bruises, across the brittle bones of bad days.

And suddenly, there’s no better time. No cleaner room. No softer place to fall than this:

Tim Wright.

Blood on his collar.

Eyes like rain before it hits the ground.

So Brian nods. Just once. Like a man walking willingly into a storm.

“I had a plan,” he whispers, almost apologetic. “I was gonna take you to the hill behind the old diner. There were gonna be lanterns. Real sappy shit.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Lanterns?”

“I know,” Brian breathes. “But then you walked in and I—forgot how to stand upright.”

Tim doesn’t answer. Not at first. He looks away, jaw tight. Like he’s afraid to be seen. Like if he says yes, the whole world might hear it and take it back.

But then he says, quiet as snowfall:

“…Yeah. Fine.”

Brian exhales. It feels like setting down a cathedral.

He kisses Tim—gently, reverently, stupidly. Tim tastes like copper and disbelief.

Later, when they’re home, Tim will sit on the floor, legs crossed, and mutter:

“My proposal was in a fuckin’ hospital.”

Brian, unrepentant, will smile like a man who found God in the wreckage.

“And you still said yes.”

Tim will look at him for a long time. And then—just barely, just once—he’ll smile.

Because he did.

Because Brian asked in the one place Tim was supposed to hate.

And somehow, it became holy.

[n-nicaela]

You can't escape yourself

[skaidenz]

Uh throws this

[creepypastabilities]

I’m never gonna finish this so I am just posting it now… saw too much skinny Tim on my dash, I had to rectify it with my own hands.

[creepypastabilities]

Hi! I hope you're all doing well. I wanted to request some Brilex content— about how they first met.

I was thinking it could be set during their college years, before The Operator and Marble Hornets . Feel free to write it from any perspective—you have such great ideas, and I’d love to see your take on this scenario! :)

Thank you, dear!! I gruelled over this for a couple days to make sure I got the vibe totally right, I hope you enjoy! <3

First Take.

Pairing— Brian Thomas x Alex Kralie (Marble Hornets.)

Alex speaks like a thunderstorm thinks—loud, electric, and unapologetic.

He doesn’t argue so much as perform it.

Hands painting the air like he’s storyboarding rage, voice rising and falling in waves that crash through the classroom and soak every bystander in saltwater conviction.

The room’s a low-buzzing hive of half-awake students, but Alex is incandescent. Animated in a way that makes you want to watch, even if you hate the movie he’s tearing apart.

Brian’s just passing by. A coffee in one hand, his backpack slung crooked across his shoulder, trailing exhaustion from back-to-back labs. He’s been up since sunrise drawing blood and giving quiet reassurances in sterile rooms. He is, as always, humming with sugar and caffeine and kindness.

He’s not expecting to be the next prop in a film major’s passionate breakdown of narrative structure.

“Excuse me,” Alex calls, sharp and sudden, snapping the invisible clapperboard on their first scene together. “You there, in the—what is that, a serotonin-colored hoodie? Come here.”

Brian blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Quick. Important question.”

Alex’s smile is wicked and wide. The kind that dares you to walk into traffic just to prove a point.

Brian, of course, walks straight in.

“How can I say no to that face?”

Someone groans from the row behind them. Alex spins back toward his opponent—some poor kid who dared suggest Inception was “objectively good cinema”—and gestures grandly toward Brian like a magician unveiling a trick.

“Neutral party,” Alex says. “Tell me. Did La La Land deserve the Oscar, or was that just Ryan Gosling’s jawline talking?”

Brian sips his coffee, considering it with the weight of someone used to diagnosing things more serious than film snobbery.

Then he shrugs.

“I thought it was sweet,” he says. “Kinda like cotton candy. Not much substance, but… y’know. Pretty.”

Alex stares at him like he’s just proposed marriage and murder in the same sentence.

“That is insanely wrong,” he announces. “And weirdly charming.”

Brian grins. “Thanks. I think.”

The class ends, eventually. The debate doesn’t.

They walk together, arguing and laughing down sun-drenched sidewalks. Brian gesticulates too much when he talks; Alex makes fun of him for it, but he starts doing it too, just to mirror him.

They don’t even notice they’ve reached the coffee shop until Brian’s opening the door.

Alex will later tell people that Brian tricked him into a date.

Brian will argue that Alex dragged him into a date by force.

The truth, as always, is somewhere in the middle.

And it starts here:

In the glow of overhead fluorescents and half-drunk opinions,

with coffee cooling on tabletops

and a boy who burns too brightly falling in step beside one who was built to weather the heat.

One scene fades into the next.

And neither of them thinks to call cut.

[creepypastabilities]

I apologize about my earlier ask. I just realized how needlessly hostile it comes across, which was not my intent. My intention was to ask Tim a question directly about Alex, not to be mean. I sincerely apologize for my behavior, and if you want to delete the ask and block me, I understand and will accept your decision.

No stress! We all say things that sound sharper than we mean sometimes. Your ask stayed up, and no block here!

I wasn’t bothered by your ask—I actually figured it was just you getting into character and exploring some tough questions!

Thanks for reaching out and being thoughtful about it though but seriously, no hard feelings!

-Mod from @wrightinthehead

[creepypastabilities]

Unfold. Bloom.

Pairing— Tim Wright x Alex Kralie (Marble Hornets)

Alex thought Tim was just… shy.

One of those soft-spoken types who folded into corners, who didn’t like crowds, who said less because less felt safer. He figured if he hung around long enough, if he cracked enough jokes or shoved his shoulder a few times too many, Tim would warm up.

Unfold. Bloom. Whatever.

But weeks passed and Tim didn’t bloom. He just sat. Quiet. Expression like frost on glass—thin, delicate, impossible to see through.

So Alex got frustrated.

He asked more questions. Made louder noise. Tried to drag Tim into the current by the wrist.

Tim blinked once. Maybe twice. Didn’t move.

Later, in a hallway that hummed with fluorescent light and old vending machines, Brian leaned against the wall and said it soft:

“It’s not that he doesn’t feel. He just… doesn’t wear it.”

Alex stared at the floor for a while. Swallowed the guilt like a stone in his throat. He remembered every time he’d teased, every time he’d nudged for a reaction and gotten stillness instead. Every time he thought Tim wasn’t trying.

He hadn’t realized that Tim had always been trying. That flat affect wasn’t emptiness. It was effort. It was exhaustion.

Alex hadn’t known.

But he started watching differently after that. Not for the smile—but for the stillness. The way Tim would hand over the mug with both hands. The way he sat one seat closer than yesterday. The way he looked out the window just a beat too long after Alex left the room.

No, Tim didn’t laugh.

But his fingers always hovered near Alex’s jacket on the back of the chair.

He didn’t say I missed you.

But his coat was always the one Tim grabbed when it rained.

So Alex learned a new language.

One without fire.

One that lived in long shadows and soft constants. In steadiness. In silence.

And Tim—Tim didn’t change. Not really.

But Alex did.

And that was enough.

( @arachnwife !! )

[creepypastabilities]

hi

It's my first time requesting something. I have a lot on my mind, but oh well. Can we have Brim in a context where they're both drunk? Or at least one <3 something like: "What do you think happens if I kiss you right now?"

Hello, dear! Thank you for the request!!

Prompt— What do you think happens if I kiss you right now?

Pairing— Brian Thomas x Tim Wright (Marble Hornets)

It’s late.

That kind of late where time doesn’t tick—it breathes. The room is dim, washed in amber from a lamp that should’ve been turned off hours ago. There’s static somewhere—maybe the television, maybe the air between them.

Brian’s sitting cross-legged on the rug, fingers idly twisting the edge of his sleeve. His laugh’s long since died in his throat. The bottle between them is sweating, half-forgotten, like the game they never really started.

Tim’s on the couch. One arm over his eyes like he’s hiding from something. Not light. Not Brian. Just the weight of being seen.

Brian doesn’t move. Not yet.

“Hey,” he says. Quiet. Gentle.

Like maybe he’s asking permission to ruin something.

“What do you think happens if I kiss you right now?”

Tim doesn’t answer for a while.

The silence is heavy—but not empty. It thrums.

When he finally does speak, it’s low. Careful. Like he’s walking barefoot over glass.

“…I think you’d break somethin’ we don’t know how to fix.”

Brian breathes in. Not out. Holds it like a secret.

And then he shifts forward.

Just a little.

Just enough.

“You think it’s not already cracked?”

Tim lowers his arm. Meets Brian’s eyes like he’s doing something dangerous. Like it costs him something.

“Might be,” he mutters. “But we’ve been steppin’ around it so long, I can’t tell what’s floor and what’s fault line anymore.”

And Brian, sweet, reckless thing that he is—he doesn’t wait.

He leans in and kisses him. Soft. Not hesitant, but slow. Like he’s not asking for anything but this one breath in time.

Tim doesn’t kiss back right away.

But he doesn’t pull away either.

He’s still as stone. Then—just barely—he leans into it. Enough to answer. Enough to be complicit.

When Brian pulls away, lips parted, heart in his throat, he’s already regretting it.

He whispers, “Did I ruin it?”

Tim’s lashes lower. Not shy—just heavy.

He looks away, then down. Then, finally, back at Brian.

“…Dunno,” he says, voice rough as gravel. “But if y’want me to be sure—gonna need you to do it again.”

[creepypastabilities]

Hey guys, do you accept requests? And if so, how would you like to be requested? <3

Sure thing we do!! Just send an ask with whatever request you’d like and we’ll do it! <3