Menacing Manicotti

Blog ran by Aubz (minor) and Aubrie (adult)! Mod.L and Mod.Dicks (Adults) have returned! We do headcanons Multi fandom horror blog but mostly MH and Creepypasta

[lyssophobiaa]

COMMISSIONS !!

Hey guys, I’ve decided to start doing commissions!! 

Payment is AUD and through PayPal only, if you’d like a commission, add me on discord #Canyousmellwhatthebrockiscooking and we can get to work! 

Completion time may vary, I’m a full time carer for my mother so I’m not drawing 24/7.

I’m pretty flexible to work with and am open to drawing just about anything you may like to see, if you’re interested in buying a commission off me hit me up on Discord and we’ll go from there!

Example Art:

[creepypastabilities]

Bro had a Major in Film and a Minor in Felony Assault

[menacing-manicotti]

‘Scene 3, take 9’ and bro took 9 lives

[gavinparished]

The Beats Inside My Head

Hi! I'm going to run through my discography and add some details for you. This is my debut project, a 7 song mixtape I produced while I was coping with my grandfather's death. Before this I was making mashups on Soundtrap and learning how to to dubstep on Music Maker Jam. Originally, I was going to title these tracks after lines and give the project a different artwork but due to the events I changed up all of that. I'm sure why is understandable. There's not much to say here really sadly besides that this is a unique mix of electronic music and instrumental hiphop with an ambient feel to some of the sounds. It was fun learning to produce like this and I'd recommend Don't Go and Come Back.

However I will say it was a big change for me to release this project. At the time, I was working on being a YouTuber with one of my best friends, Daryan. We don't talk too much anymore but he designed the Gp on my first official piece of merchandise technically. It's not released or anything but I have it on in promo shots. I was making content about my interests at the time. Playing Minecraft, making custom Bionicles and giving them storylines, editing Pokemon AMVs, writing sketches, all the classic stuff. Unfortunately almost all of it is gone. One big collaboration AMV is still released, which I helped direct and edit for. It was a fun time but I decided to switch to music cause it became my biggest calling. I then proceded to delete all of my old videos, which honestly thinking back is heartbreaking. Were they cringe? 100%. Do I still want them up? Yes. Why? Well, it shows growth. Think, one day I'll be a bigger artist than I maybe ever imagined. If those videos were up, people from all over the world could see my true start, look at it then look at me then and say "hey, I'll try it!" Which is exactly why to this day I keep up my entire discography, unlike most annoying underground rappers who delete almost everything previously once a song blows up. There are a few AMV leftovers that I decided to keep up because I hadn't fully deleted them, check them out here!

Gp

Hello! It's me, Gp, just doing my thing. This is just a channel I'm doing for fun, talking about stuff I like, playing games, making little

But that's enough of that for now. In a way this album was me starting a legacy. I picked a sound, a style I liked and went for it. It really is easy to tell through this record alone what makes me different to the pears I surround myself with now. You can hear the DNA that is this album in my modern music, albeit way more defined and quality controlled. All I've done is improve in the last 8 years. Honestly typing that out just horrified me, I've been a content creator for a decade, around half my life, and a musician specifically for most of that too. It's crazy to think about but I like going back and listening to older records sometimes. Reminds me of where I came from.

Stream and Save The Beats Inside My Head - Distributed by DistroKid

With the above link you can listen to this tape. It's a swift listen, right around 18 and a half minutes. It's worth trying out, I still let some of the songs play when I listen to them. I want to shout out my grandfather too to end this. In a way I feel his death made me who I am, including the artist part of me. So I want to thank him for that, and may he rest in peace. I see him in my visions but honestly? I think about seeing him in the next place every single day.

[creepypastabilities]

Hey guys, I know Colby/Lilly has already reblogged but I’m reblogging again to basically say it would really mean a lot to us if you gave Gavin a follow here and on other platforms! He’s been our best friend for eight years, and is an Indigenous artist trying to support himself through his music and other art, with everything going on right now, It would be a big help to reblog and share and spread his music and art 💗

[abagofteeth]

“I could kiss you senseless,” Luis says, idly flickering the rusty lighter on and off, the orange flame illuminating his features in the darkness— Luis glows, Leon thinks, he glows.

Leon rolls his eyes and grumbles something, a murmured “Don’t be ridiculous,” before his eyes glue themselves back to the contraption in his hands.

“You’re doing it all wrong, Sancho.” Luis speaks again, voice smooth and confident as he steps towards the worn down table, gently plucking the contraption from Leon’s fingers.

The mechanism effortlessly clicks into place, and Leon almost wants to roll his eyes again, but he doesn’t— Too transfixed on how beautiful Luis looks with his brows pinched together in concentration, chewing his bottom lip.

God, Leon craves. He craves so much that he aches with it.

“Voila! All done.” Luis announces proudly, and Leon smiles. Leon actually smiles.

-

Luis catches all the things Leon hides. The coldness in his stare, the vacancy in those icy eyes that really means he’s thinking about something, really thinking about it.

“You keep thinking those thoughts so deeply, Mi Amor, and you’ll drown in them.” Luis says, voice adorned with its typical playful edge, but he cares. His eyes show that he cares.

Leon snorts, “I can swim, y’know.”

Luis just smiles and shakes his head, then, a playful tut, “Even the best swimmers drown, Sancho.”

“Tell me, Leon, what is it you want?”

Leon opens his mouth; “I just want…”

You.

You.

I just want you.

But the words don’t come out.

-

“I could kiss you senseless,” Luis says again, but this time—

This time blood spills with every word, a strained cough, this time, Leon is begging the world, don’t take this sinner from me, not yet.

“Don’t talk,” Leon speaks, a pleading crack in his voice that betrays the way he tries to keep his hands steady, but the wetness in his lashes is not something he can hide.

“Don’t cry, Mi Vida— Don’t cry,” Luis soothes, eyes fixed on Leon, watching, admiring, adoring. “No lover leaves a rose garden without blood on their hands.”

Leon laughs. Soft. Disbelieving, because even with his last breaths, Luis is reciting sappy poetry to him.

So Leon leans in.

And—

He kisses him. He kisses Luis and he tastes blood on his lips.

He tastes something he can’t have. He tastes Luis.

You can’t force the stars to align when they’ve already died.

“Leon?” Luis asks, calls for him in his time of dying, voice so soft and fragile that it makes Leon ache. “Yes, Luis?”

“I’ll tell every star about you.”

[abagofteeth]

“I could kiss you senseless,” Luis says, idly flickering the rusty lighter on and off, the orange flame illuminating his features in the darkness— Luis glows, Leon thinks, he glows.

Leon rolls his eyes and grumbles something, a murmured “Don’t be ridiculous,” before his eyes glue themselves back to the contraption in his hands.

“You’re doing it all wrong, Sancho.” Luis speaks again, voice smooth and confident as he steps towards the worn down table, gently plucking the contraption from Leon’s fingers.

The mechanism effortlessly clicks into place, and Leon almost wants to roll his eyes again, but he doesn’t— Too transfixed on how beautiful Luis looks with his brows pinched together in concentration, chewing his bottom lip.

God, Leon craves. He craves so much that he aches with it.

“Voila! All done.” Luis announces proudly, and Leon smiles. Leon actually smiles.

-

Luis catches all the things Leon hides. The coldness in his stare, the vacancy in those icy eyes that really means he’s thinking about something, really thinking about it.

“You keep thinking those thoughts so deeply, Mi Amor, and you’ll drown in them.” Luis says, voice adorned with its typical playful edge, but he cares. His eyes show that he cares.

Leon snorts, “I can swim, y’know.”

Luis just smiles and shakes his head, then, a playful tut, “Even the best swimmers drown, Sancho.”

“Tell me, Leon, what is it you want?”

Leon opens his mouth; “I just want…”

You.

You.

I just want you.

But the words don’t come out.

-

“I could kiss you senseless,” Luis says again, but this time—

This time blood spills with every word, a strained cough, this time, Leon is begging the world, don’t take this sinner from me, not yet.

“Don’t talk,” Leon speaks, a pleading crack in his voice that betrays the way he tries to keep his hands steady, but the wetness in his lashes is not something he can hide.

“Don’t cry, Mi Vida— Don’t cry,” Luis soothes, eyes fixed on Leon, watching, admiring, adoring. “No lover leaves a rose garden without blood on their hands.”

Leon laughs. Soft. Disbelieving, because even with his last breaths, Luis is reciting sappy poetry to him.

So Leon leans in.

And—

He kisses him. He kisses Luis and he tastes blood on his lips.

He tastes something he can’t have. He tastes Luis.

You can’t force the stars to align when they’ve already died.

“Leon?” Luis asks, calls for him in his time of dying, voice so soft and fragile that it makes Leon ache. “Yes, Luis?”

“I’ll tell every star about you.”

[creepypastabilities]

“ your heart is beating so fast right now “ brim :3 thank uuu

!! Here you go!

Prompt— Your heart is beating so fast right now.

Pairing— Brian Thomas x Tim Wright (Marble Hornets)

CWs— None

Tim says it softly. Like a fact, not a question.

Like he’s reading it straight from the rhythm of Brian’s ribs.

“Your heart is beating so fast right now.”

It hits Brian like a slap made of moonlight. Cold and bright and holy.

“Is it?” he says, voice too high, too casual, too guilty. He laughs, awkward, breathless. “Weird. That’s weird. Probably caffeine. Or dehydration. Or—what’s the word—existential terror.”

Tim doesn’t blink. Doesn’t smile. Just keeps looking at him, eyes slow and dark like he’s studying a storm from the eye of it. Unmoving.

Unshaken.

And Brian is all tremor.

He’s bouncing one leg, chewing the inside of his cheek, fingers twitching like they’re searching for a grip on something solid. He wants to say it’s nothing. That he’s just jittery. That Tim being this close—bare-kneed, soft-shouldered, smelling like smoke and safety and sleepless nights—it’s fine.

But it’s not fine. It’s never been fine. It’s—

“You do this to me,” Brian blurts, helpless. “You just—sit there and exist and my heart goes into overdrive like it’s trying to warn me I’m in love with a natural disaster.”

Tim blinks. Once. “You think I’m a natural disaster?”

Brian waves a hand. “The nicest kind. Like a solar flare. Or a tsunami that reads poetry.”

Tim blinks again.

Brian buries his face in his hands. “I don’t even know what that means. I think I’m broken. You broke me with your thighs and your sarcasm and your existential calm.”

Tim leans a little closer, and Brian hears it again—quiet, observational, amused now:

“Your heart is still beating too fast.”

Brian peeks out from behind his fingers. “Well, yeah. You got closer.”

Tim hums. “You really like me.”

Brian swallows. “Like is a weak word. I’m trying not to die over here.”

Tim doesn’t respond right away. Just reaches out, gently, and presses two fingers to Brian’s pulse point like he’s testing it.

“Fast,” he murmurs again. “But not fatal.”

Brian grins, nervous and giddy. “Not yet.”

Tim finally, finally smiles. Small, crooked, impossible to look away from.

“Guess we’ll see if it kills you when I kiss you.”

Brian’s brain flatlines.

And Tim—well.

Tim finally leans in.

[wrightinthehead]

Hey.

Name’s Tim Wright.

Yeah, that Tim Wright. Or maybe not. Depends who you ask.

If you’ve found this blog; Either you’re curious, lost, or you really don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. That last one’s my personal favorite.

Ask if you want.

Maybe I’ll answer. Maybe I’ll stare at your message and reconsider my faith in humanity. Flip a coin.

Extra from the admin;

Hey there! I’m the admin behind this blog, I’m 20, She/Her pronouns. You can call me Admin, Mod, God, or your new best friend.

This is an in-character ask blog for Tim Wright, who I portray as:

→ 26 years old

→ Indigenous

→ A system (DID); Masky is an alter, who I will refer to as Ammon on this blog.

⚠️ This blog deals with horror themes, mental illness, trauma, and the occasional eldritch situation in a Circle K parking lot. You’ve been warned.

Ask away! He might even answer you.

Eventually. Begrudgingly.

(You can ask me stuff too if you like. I don’t bite!)

[creepypastabilities]

HII PLEASE GO ASK ME STUFF!!!

[creepypastabilities]

Wintersfield Headcanons you didn’t ask for

-Despite the impression Chris gives, Ethan can cook, Chris is just incredibly picky. He calls it ‘protocol’, Ethan reminds him that it’s a fucking kitchen

-They bicker like an old married couple, technically they are

-Ethan is deceptively strong, Chris calls him a Tasmanian Devil, small but dangerous

-Chris loves plants, Ethan has the house covered in them, Chris insists they’re a nuisance, but he comes home with more to add to the collection anyway

-Rosemary has a favourite parent and it is, unsurprisingly, Ethan

-He spoils her rotten, treats her gently, and does ridiculous impressions to make her laugh— If Chris does them, she cries

-Chris and Ethan are inseparable, they eat together, shower together, brush their teeth together, drive each other up the wall and lose the plot together, etc

-Ethan loves flowers, they have a tradition, Chris buys him a bouquet of flowers all the time, one for every day, but still insists it’s stupid

[creepypastabilities]

A Hell is other people fan?? Best day of my life can you do mjjw headcanons?

-Moonjo always wakes up first. Always. He likes watching Jongwoo sleep—it’s part adoration, part control, and part fascination with how peaceful Jongwoo looks when he’s most vulnerable.

-Moonjo insists on cooking. His knife skills are precise and a little too practiced, and he takes disturbing pride in the presentation, not that Jongwoo eats it.

-Jongwoo reads true crime books. Not just for entertainment, but for understanding. Moonjo finds this hilarious and sometimes reads passages out loud in mock-lecturer tone.

-Every year, on the day Jongwoo first moved into Eden Goshiwon, they “celebrate.” Moonjo buys red wine. Jongwoo sits quietly, probably seething, but Moonjo thinks it’s all part of the charm.

-Jongwoo loses his temper. Moonjo just says “That’s so you, honey.” Jongwoo loses his temper some more.

-Moonjo never stops testing Jongwoo’s sanity. He’ll rearrange something subtly and wait to see if Jongwoo notices. If he does, Moonjo smiles. If he doesn’t, Moonjo smiles wider.

-They have a game where Moonjo tells a lie and Jongwoo has to detect it. If Jongwoo wins, he gets to go outside alone. If he loses, Moonjo takes a “souvenir” from him like a lock of hair, a book, a secret.

-Moonjo collects teeth in a jar. Jongwoo used to ask where they came from. He doesn’t anymore.

-They occasionally watch old horror films together.

[creepypastabilities]

—And I miss my lover, man.

[creepypastabilities]

TIM!! This guy is so hard to draw..

[multiakimo]

im pretty sure this is how that one rooftop scene went

[viserrasm]

[neonakto]

🦷🩸

[creepypastabilities]

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜ with brim?

Prompt— ‘You look really pretty right now.’

Pairing— Brian Thomas x Tim Wright (Marble Hornets)

CWs— None

The sun’s slipping low, painting the whole world in bruised peach and dying honey. They’re out by the reservoir—feet dangling over the ledge, wind like a soft hand in their hair, and cicadas screaming like it’s their last night on earth.

Tim’s beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, warm in that easy, thoughtless way he always is. Like he was made to fit there. Like Brian’s side was just waiting for someone like him to fill it.

Brian’s chewing the edge of a sunflower seed hull, tongue heavy with things he’s never going to say. Things that feel ancient and holy and wrong in a way that tastes like god.

Tim tilts his head back, lets the last light catch his jaw, his throat, his lashes. His hoodie’s half-zipped, collarbones bare and catching gold like relics. Brian stares. Can’t help it. Would’ve plucked his own eyes out if looking was a sin, but he never was all that devout.

“You look really pretty right now,” he says, low.

Tim laughs, but it’s not teasing—just surprised. A little pink at the tips of his ears. He nudges Brian’s thigh with his knee, not looking at him, not needing to. “What, you flirting with me now?”

Brian’s fingers curl against the concrete. “I mean it.”

Tim hums. Leans into his side like it’s second nature, like his body knows something his brain doesn’t. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t crack a joke. Just rests his chin on Brian’s shoulder, soft and unguarded.

And Brian?

Brian holds still like the moment’s glass.

Because if he moves, he might ruin it. Might shatter this quiet little mercy of a moment where Tim doesn’t pull away, where the world hasn’t tipped sideways yet. Where love is a secret still sealed in his chest.

So he sits there, rigid and reverent, with his best friend pressed to his shoulder and a mouth full of words he’ll never say.

Not now.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

The sun slips lower. The cicadas scream louder. And Brian keeps his eyes forward, because if he looks at Tim again, he might not survive it.

[creepypastabilities]

you stare at me a lot. Brian x Tim

Prompt— You stare at me a lot.

Pairing— Brian Thomas x Tim Wright (Marble Hornets)

CWs— None

Brian’s perched on the edge of the couch, one leg curled under him, barely pretending to scroll through footage. The light’s doing that thing again—slanting just right through the blinds, dust dancing like it’s been invited. Tim’s on the floor, stretched out on his stomach, socked feet kicking idly behind him, notebook open but untouched.

He glances up, doesn’t even try to hide the smirk. “You stare at me a lot.”

Brian freezes like a bug under glass. “No I don’t.”

Tim hums. Taps his pen against his lip. “You do. All dreamy-eyed, too. It’s flattering, really.”

Brian scoffs. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Mhm,” Tim says, rolling onto his side, propping his head up with one hand, grin blooming like bruises under the skin—soft and a little cruel. “Bet if I asked you what shirt I was wearing yesterday, you’d know. Down to the way it wrinkled at the collar.”

Brian opens his mouth, closes it again. Shrugs. “You always wear the same three shirts.”

Tim gasps, mock-offended. “Wow. Rude. So you do pay attention.”

Brian exhales through his nose, tries not to smile. Fails. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Tim says, which is criminal, actually.

Brian looks away, cheeks flushed. Tim watches him like a cat watches a cornered bird, playful and patient. He doesn’t press, but he doesn’t look away, either.

“Seriously, though,” he says, voice low now. “I don’t mind. You watching me.”

Brian doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t stop staring, either.

And Tim—Tim just grins wider. Like maybe he was hoping he wouldn’t.

[morkali-art]

I bring it to you: The Puppet Boy!