I’ve been hacking up mucus all day so naturally I am now projecting my suffering onto Tim-coughs-a-lot Wright. Brian having to forced his friend into a blanket burrito so the stubborn man would stop trying to leave bed with a temp of 105. It probably doesn’t help the fact that Tim is a naturally warm person, so whenever he manages to untangle himself out of the pile of pillows and quilts Brian buried him under, there’s just a SEA of sweat that leaves a big ass wet patch on the back of his pajamas and the sheets. Brian always has to help him change clothes every few hours because of it.
Brian seems like the type who keeps a variety of medicine flavors in his cabinet imo. Shit like grape and strawberry-banana and bubblegum. Also the type to carry around like five different types of cough drops in his pocket, mostly for Tim. He probably changes out the flavor options every week and then keeps the ones Tim seems to lean towards the most on hand. It’d probably be some dumb flavor like apple pie.
Tim’s biggest grievance would be the fact that since Brian doesn't wanna risk getting sick alongside him, since at least ONE of them gotta be healthy enough to look out for the other, he gets no cuddles or kisses. Not even a goodnight smooch on the forehead. Tim mourns over it like he was a soldier at war who was bleeding out in the middle of a foreign battlefield, yearning for his true love’s affection just one last time before his body cruelly gave out. Brian compromises by pulling up a chair and watching Modern Family with the laptop on Tim’s lap.
GUYS IM IN DESPERATE SEARCH OF A FAN FICTION. DOES ANY ONE REMEMBER A FANFIC WITH BRIAN/TIM/READER AND IN IT BRIAN CAUGHT TIM AND THE READER GRINDING ON EACHOTHER AND MAKING OUT BEFORE THEY COULD C*M AND THEN HE FORCED THEM TO KEEP GOING BUT ONLY ONE OF THEM COULD C*M. PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME IF ANYONE KNOWS IT IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR IT ALL DAY. IVE SEARCHED ALL OF AO3 BUT I CANT RMB IF ITS ON TUMBLR OR AO3. PLEASE ANYONE HELP🥲
HIHII SOO I WANNA ASK ABOUT THE POST YOU MADE LIKE A YEAR AGO I THINK- IT WAS IN NOVEMBER SMTH IT WAS THE ONE WITH BRIAN AND TIM AND I WANNA ASK IF PART 2 WAS POSTED (if yes please. PLEASE PLEASE tag me) I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR IT FOR SOOO LONGGG RAHHHH (only if it's alr ofc! And sorry for taking up some of your time! Have a good night/morning!)
It’s NOT posted yet!! I’m currently working on it though!! Life lowk hit hard this year😭
It was supposed to have been out before LAST Christmas 🌝
BUT!! I will add you to my taglist for it^^
(That goes along with anyone else who wants to be tagged to part 2 of this fic from last year)
Blood always looked the prettiest on freshly fallen snow, a man once said to him, far away in what was now a dream. It was a joke at the time, the use of fake blood for a scene in a film Brian was in, before Marble Hornets. Tim couldn’t help but detect hints of something more there: not murderous, but a genuine interest; Tim asked him once why he didn’t go into forensics, and the man before him shrugged like he had no answer to give. Brian was Tim’s best friend, perhaps something parasocial, with the way Tim was attached to him really driving home his insecure attachment style. But Brian said Tim was his, and Tim believed him because what else was he to believe? It’s an interesting thing: meeting your best friend in college after decades without one. Experiencing things you were never able to before, even the littlest thing like a text sent his heart fluttering in excitement at the prospect.
It wasn’t long before Tim realized he was in love with Brian Thomas.
Tim knew he was gay from the moment the term was coined and the definition was told to him, but that was a story for another time. He had little to no interest in women; he really discovered that when he was released and went to his first year at a real school. The other boys woofed and whistled and gossiped about girls, and Tim, although never invited to the conversation, couldn’t understand what was just so good about them. Not that he tried super hard, perhaps that’s the good thing about always being different, one more thing on that pile isn’t shocking.
But Brian? Brian Thomas, the straightest man he knew? That made him sick to his stomach; his instinct is always to run. Run so he wouldn’t get hurt, run so he wouldn’t get trapped somewhere, and run so he didn’t have to feel the emotions of affection he was never given as a child. Tim tried once, a shakily written note, a bag packed, and the keys to his apartment in his hands, ready to hand them over. All his instruments were in the bed of his truck, but then he got a text from Brian, of course, because who else texted him? He was drunk out of his mind and needed a DD to pick him up. Tim remembers dropping everything to get him because, despite his looks, that’s the kind of man Tim was.
*Good, kind, and gentle.*
Not that he thought that about himself; his thoughts about himself were a constant run-through of crazy, dirty, and the feeling that he always deserved to be alone.
He remembers dragging Brian into the car, a giggly, drunk mess, and he remembers the man wanting to go to Tim’s apartment instead of his dorm. The sandy blonde bat his eyes at him and smiled with that adorable gap-toothed smile, and he was hooked, for even if he couldn’t have Brian romantically, he could be happy just being his best friend. Tim recognized Brian’s difference since that night; it wasn’t like anything had happened, but Brian seemed off. He appeared almost gentler with Tim, and for the life of him, Tim couldn’t understand why. Brian’s touches turned more lingering, the movie nights turned into movie CUDDLE nights. Tim wondered if this was his personal Hell. Brian never said anything, so Tim never said anything; nothing ever went past those cuddles and a few coincidental dates Brian crashed by being in the same place. Or the hookups that left Tim’s house too fast when Brian came in, he had the key after all, and the immediate subject switch off the stranger. This was certainly platonic; there was no doubt about it after all, Brian knew more about these things than Tim did. It didn’t matter either way, because Tim would be there to love Brian from afar, so long as Brian would let him.
Even if it killed him.
It did. Well…it didn’t kill Tim, but it killed Brian. Tim’s love stretched so far, it was all encompassing; it would drown lesser people if they were not careful, lost to the waters of his loving them too much. And he knew, always had, that it would never last. That the monster haunting him would come for him eventually, and his biggest regret was dragging everyone down along with him. That Tim couldn’t do good, he could only hurt, cause pain wherever he went, when his friends, cause that’s what they were, his friends began to get sick. He tried to pretend it wasn’t what he thought it was, bury it inside him until it broke, but then Alex went crazy, and Amy went missing, and he knew it was because of HIM. The Operator infested their minds like a snake wrapping around their brains, squeezing so hard until the organ POPPED.
Tim was used to the feeling…the others, not so much. It didn’t take long before they started to disappear. Seth was first, then…then Brian, and fuck what did Tim even have to live for after that. There was no note, no heads-up, just there for one minute and gone the next. They had called the night before, and he did not indicate that he was leaving.
And Tim was alone once again, so he left too. Marble Hornets was shitty anyway, a disaster, and with their staring man gone, there was no use continuing. So Tim moved as far away as he could from it all, went to therapy, and finally got on meds for his seizures and hallucinations. Things were perfect, he almost forgot about The Operator, about Marble Hornets, and about Tuscaloosa altogether…all except Brian. He was a constant reminder of his past, and even as he forgot about the nitty-gritty details, his love for the man always remained. Then there was Jay fucking Merrik, who couldn’t leave anything alone, opening up the trauma he worked so hard to bury. Despite his anger at the manipulation, he stayed to help because maybe if they stopped Alex, they’d stop this entire thing. But would it be a worthwhile outcome, after all of it, Tim was unsure. Tim didn’t know who ‘Masky’ was, other than it was him; somehow, he was unaware of him, but he wouldn’t let him out again if he could help it because he wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore.
Brian would hate him.
The answer turned out to be no, for as he pushed the hooded man out the window filled with anger and spite, it didn’t feel good. Everything else so far had been cathartic; he heard the static mixed with Alex’s screaming, and he bolted down the steps. There was one last thing to do, and he had the time to do it, even if it was only for a few minutes. The mask was removed, and he wanted to see who had tortured Jay and him for years, put a name to the face that helped ruin their lives. He was filled with so much anger, so much spite that as he removed the mask, his heart sank into his stomach, gapped tooth, blue eyes, and sandy blonde hair.
No. No. Nonononono.
Impossible, it couldn’t be Brian. Anyone but him, please God, no, let it be another hallucination. A joke, Brian was safe and sound with a wife and kids somewhere, not here, not this. He let out a choked sob as Brian’s pupils expanded, and for a breathless moment, he swore his last breath was Tim’s name. But that very well could’ve been the guilt and mania he was also experiencing at the moment. Tim found a tape on him, as blood began to pour from the back of his head like a gushing fountain. He shouldn’t, really shouldn’t, but he grabbed the ski mask, pocketing it as he ran. If Tim died trying to escape, then he’d die with a part of the only thing he’d ever loved.
In the end, Tim is the only one left alive—the only person who didn’t deserve it.
—
Show crunched under his boots, hand dripping with fresh blood, smoke curled from his mouth and out into the sky. It was overcast as he stared ahead at the three graves in front of him; it had been a few months since he had been back. His job wouldn’t let him get away often, and when he could, he had Nova to take care of, and the German Shepard took all his time. Tim had been adjusting the stones above it, slicing his hand on the jagged rock.
“Ow, fucking fuck. I get it, revenge or whatever.”
Tim grunted with a dramatic roll of his eyes, the shallow graves of Brian, Jay, and…yes, even Alex sat in front of him. Each one was empty, but each one held meaning, he assumed. The Operator took them for food, or whatever he used them for, but the idea that the graves sat empty made him sick to his stomach. Each grave was a reminder. Jay’s empty camcorder sat on top of his. Alex didn’t have much, but the bloodied tape served its purpose enough, and finally, Brian. The only grave decorated with flowers, cleaned religiously, as Tim was afraid to touch the others. Scared he’d be haunted, he wished Brian would haunt him; maybe that’s why he felt the stones so frequently. He took another inhale of his cigarette, holding it for a moment before letting it spill from his lips once again. Slowly, he pulled a worn black mask from his pocket, no longer smelling of Brian, and it was a reminder of the torture they all had been through.
“Hey, Bri…guess I should give this back, huh?” His brown eyes dragged to the top of his grave, Tim tossed the cig in the snow, snuffing it immediately. Using both hands now, he traced the stitching of the eyes and mouth; it was so stupid. Then again, so were his own porcelain and black lips. What was he thinking?
“I figured it was about time to lay this completely behind me,” he swallowed the frog in his throat, refusing to disappear. “I’m keeping the pictures…Obviously, I don’t think I could ever get rid of them. Ya know, it’s funny,” Tim sat down, leaning his back on the grave, the snow soaking into his pants.
“How much I loved ya, I promised to protect you no matter what, and I ended up killin’ ya.” His southern drawl, Brian would always tease him for slipping through as it always did when he was emotional. Tears were falling down his cheeks now, warm against the cold flesh of his cheeks, embarrassed even though no one could see him. Tim pressed his cheek against the makeshift headstone with Brian’s name messily scrawled into it.
“I fucking wrote in journals like a teenager, combining our names like you weren’t straight. Like it was legal for us to get married. The number of times I almost confessed, almost kissed you stupid, was in the thousands. It was so ridiculous that if I just did it, you could’ve let me down gently instead of this. Or maybe you would’ve left me. It would've been better if you had, then you’d have a life free of this, and you’d probably be alive. You are so much more deserving than I am.”
Tim hiccuped, “Every one of you is, well, except Alex fuck him.” He laughed, rubbing his hand down his face, “I have a beard now, full-blown and itchy as hell, I think you would hate it.” Tim’s shaky hands reached into his pocket, and a shiny revolver sat in his hands. A bullet in each hole of the cambers, primed and ready to greet Tim’s head.
“It’s been Hell, every waking moment, I hear him, I see him, I see you all of you whenever I close my eyes. I hate it, I want to die. I know I’ll go to hell for all I’ve done,” he tapped the gun against his knee.
“Nova’s set up somewhere, put her in a doggy daycare despite her protesting. They’ll take care of her till they find my body.” He ran a hand through his hair, stalling, that’s what he was doing, “If I do get to meet you, I’m gonna tell you how I feel before I’m cursed, hopefully whoever exists lets me finish that business.”
Brian would hate him for this, the number of times he talked Tim off the ledge, a million ways to tell Tim he was worth more than his past. Now it was null and void; he was sure of that, in fact, he was probably cheering.
“I’ll make the snow pretty with blood just how you like it.” He took a deep breath in through his teeth, the cold steel of the muzzle against his temple.
“See ya soon-” A crack of a twig in the forest, Tim tensed, and hesitation returned full force. He looked in the direction, and his pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks. Tim lowered the gun, just for a brief moment.
*“Brian?”*
A gunshot, a smell of smoke, and blood staining the snowy ground.
Meant to post this a longggg time ago. Not x reader but wanted to share.
