Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

New people come and go; this is not a foreign concept. It is, however, as flavorless as always; Slenderman bringing in a new proxy, the feelings within the mansion remained unstirred. Sitting stiffly through the same introduction phase, listening to the same explanation. All was comparable to a broken record. Ironic that I was instructed to break him in.

I am pleased to report of the newest proxy, Tobias Roger. It's going to be a long week.

The boy had been led to his room a while ago, treated for his wounds, and likely given medication to ease whatever came alongside his injuries. This is all too familiar. This is how I started. He won't remember anything when he wakes up. I wonder if it’s better that way.

 While waiting for the new resident to recover, I have returned to my room to finish up my observations. Apparently, I must tread lightly; I caught myself tripping up the stairs this afternoon. Old stairs be damned, I made it to my room safely.

While I can’t recall a single thing happening today (not a single fight nor injury), the arrival of Tobias has sparked arguments among the other proxies. I suppose that should be noted.

Wisely, I don’t expect the silence to last long; of course, I’ll collect my clipboard and head out.

-Tim

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?” Tim huffed, dodging the hit that was thrown at him. It was always interesting to spar with Toby; he was harsh and by no means weak, however lacked much depth in his ability to stay on his feet when met with something unexpected. 

Tim adjusted his stance as the boy flattened before him. 

“Come on..” Tim beckoned with what little enthusiasm he was able to muster. He needs a lot more work before he can get sent on a solo mission, if his heavy and blind punches were anything to go by.

The two continued their sparring, solid fists and his less than graceful footwork didn’t mix well as his sloppy movements led to Tim taking the upper hand.

The delivery of an unexpected punch to Toby’s stomach made the kid breathless, literally. The teen doubled over as air was forced from his lungs, and a grunt passed over his lips. He held his stomach in shock with a glare shooting daggers right into Tim’s direction. 

“That was funny, Rogers. Let’s take a break.”

Tobias was by no means a child. He is around the same height, weight, and strength as the average adult. I’ve come to learn that the nineteenth-year-old was deceptively capable. He was brutal; lanky arms swinging and swinging until the victim was beyond recognition. As if he wasn't himself, I recall Toby standing manically over the gruesome pile of what was once a man, gasping breaths of what could only be described as relief, which betrayed the tears I pretended not to notice.

I feel the need to clarify; I am not threatened by this. Once I am overwhelmed by the mask, he becomes uncontrollable, living in chaos and basking in being the only thing able to control it. However, on the note of exercising control, I need to stop writing about Tobias as Slender is expecting more out of me.

-Tim

Orange pill bottles have begun to take collection on the corner of Tim’s nightstand, each having a respective purpose. Thorazine, meant to help lessen his tendency to seize while also carrying a vague psychoactive effect. He would often misremember to take it.

His psychological maladjustment had burdened him, not only because of his stubborn pill avoidance. He found it hard to carry a sound judgment sometimes, feeling as though his brain was intentionally creating gaps of nothing and filling those gaps with irrationality, something Tim could spend hours picking at, only to find more nothing. Once the other guy took over, He felt like he was missing out on a large majority of his life, lived by another who couldn't possibly coexist with him at the same time. 

‘ What are you doing? ,

It took him a few seconds to register the fact that he was alone. He could feel anxiety tugging at his chest; however chose internally to try to regulate himself. While still a developing skill, he can confidently differentiate himself between delusions, just the little things, especially since the abrupt alterations of his reality made things quite interesting sometimes.

‘ Are you ignoring me? ,

Tim’s childhood was less than spectacular, and he honestly couldn’t blame his mother for being so quick to intervene with treatment once things no longer became manageable for her. With his disorder and underlying cognitive dissonance, even as a kid, he watched his mother struggle to cope with being stuck, dragging around a basket case. Despite the rage that would boil in him sometimes, he also couldn't fully fault her for never visiting either, or telling their family he simply disappeared. Tim wanted to stay away from that hospital as much as possible,  even during the production of marble hornets. The pink tiles piled up with papers uttering of the operator sent waves of nausea through his system.

‘ I can't believe you remember that. ,

These occurrences never lasted long. Brought up by stress or some other trigger, Tim has yet to place. Thankfully, Tim had the strength to continue on with his slightly irregular morning routine and prepare to make himself breakfast. 

“Hey-“ 

Honey eyes darted to the sudden and very real sound, peripherals finding a yawning Tobias. Not fully letting the auditory invasion stop him, he continued. “Morning,” he said gruffly, whilst making an effort to pluck a fork from the open drawer in front of Tobias. 

Toby watched silently as Tim pushed the door closed. He could feel the boy’s eyes boring holes into his hands as he carefully prepared everything to begin cooking. He tried desperately to move with fluidity, but being watched made Tim uneasy. “Whatcha makin?” Toby interrupted, using the balls of his feet to rock back and forth impatiently. 

The murderer beside him flinched again, a low gurgle vibrating between them. Almost as quick, a violent hand lifted, and he hit himself. “Ow-” he giggled, despite them both knowing he didn’t feel it. He did it again, but Tim didn’t acknowledge it. 

 “Makin’ french toast.”

Everything moved quickly, well, with Tobias, things tended to go at a faster pace. As the brunette settled into the mansion, his personality started peeking through the cracks. He wasn’t as quiet as everyone initially thought; he was snarky and oftentimes excitable. The group learned quickly not to rely too much on Toby’s jovial demeanor, switching from smiles to sinking deep into himself in the span of an hour.

It was easy to forget on days like this, though, when Toby offered to whisk up more batter and wash the dishes Tim dirtied. It was oddly domestic, but neither of them commented. The two of them chatted aimlessly, Tim flipping the egg-soaked bread. Tim occasionally would stop talking but quickly recover, making odd breaks in their conversation. The menacing voice was talking over him, Toby knew that.

The conversation paused again, a low grunt in his throat, while he rolled his shoulders in a very visually uncomfortable manner. “I gotta question-” Toby continued, resting his body against the counter lamely. Tim hummed a sound of acknowledgment, telling him he was listening. “You-” Toby paused, lips and tongue stuttering the end of the consonant, “-You have schizoaffective right?” His brown eyes quickly scanned Tim for confirmation. “I’ve been taking.. Taking my meds. I-.. he-." Toby paused to collect himself, "I can't stop thinking.” Tim glanced the boy’s way, his arms reaching up to turn the temperature on the stove down. “Thinking?” Tim questioned, and the brunette responded with a soft giggle. 

“The bad kind of thinking,” Tobias tried to fight off his discomfort by shaking his hands quickly. The fight was for nothing, he settled still feeling the same, “I-I mean the self-destructive kind.” He flicked a grain of sugar onto the floor with his nail. Tim could practically feel the weight on Toby's chest when he began talking about his problems. Finally, something Tim can relate to. Speaking of relation- why was Toby bringing all this up now? It left an odd, mushy feeling in his chest. Sometimes he forgets that others have issues like him, and he also forgets that he doesn’t like that. 

“You can’t kill yourself, Toby, “ he deadpanned, making a face of confusion. Tim meant that literally; he physically couldn’t kill himself. Slender would bring him back somehow, especially since Tobias was such a powerful asset. 

“Agh, I know! I’m not suicidal! Christ- never thought you of all people would be so up and arms,” he said defensively. While anyone else would consider it out of the ordinary, it was fairly common in the mansion. “You realize that’s dangerous with your condition, correct? Not being able to feel pain puts you at risk.” He stressed, his words did ring true. Toby made a loud crack with his neck, humming at the tingling that remained. “No shit, dumbass,” he growled, “Rationally, I know that. But I’m not.. not rational 24/7. I get fucked up. I get angry." Toby reserved his fit, taking a deep breath to calm his simmering emotions. "I just- just wanna know how you cope so well.” Toby rambled, picking at his fingers while avoiding eye contact, much like he always did. It made things feel awkward in an intimate sort of way. 

Tim removed the pan from the hot burner and turned the oven off, abandoning the lone piece of french toast. This was fine; they had plenty enough cooked already. 

The things they were delving into was unmarked territory. He wanted to be 100% present for this. Tim didn’t talk to many about his psychological well-being; he kept his inner workings for when they were necessary. Like during their monthly Psychological Evaluations, and occasionally with Brian, as he was Tim’s closest ally. His fingers twitched in uncertainty. He could trust Toby, right? Toby wasn’t like all the other wack jobs he was surrounded by, like he said, he was rational, he knew when he was overstepping. Toby was smart and, most importantly, was completely normal before being infected by Slender’s sickness. Much like Tim. 

Tim’s mind ran for a second while he panicked internally. Well, there goes his walls. Perfectly built up only to be knocked down by some stupid, invasive teenager asking for advice.

“I could lie to you, Rogers.” Toby flinched at the words, like it wasn't what he was expecting. 

“Yea-“ he interrupted himself jerking his head. “I know..”

Tim swallowed to soothe the anxiety curling in his throat. 

“I rarely take my meds,” he admitted, “realistically, I’m just as fucked up as everyone here. I just do a good job at deflecting.”  

Toby looked deep in thought at this information, but didn't look too quick to interrupt, so Tim continued, watching the boy's face contort into a grimace.  

“I've been there, except I did everything I could make sure I was dead. Tried so many things, kinda lost myself in that feeling. It's like I was chasing it, and every time I'd wake up, find my way back here, and act like nothing happened. 'even had to file my own incident report.” He shrugged, but deep down the sentiment bothered him, when death meant so little life tended to follow in its distant footsteps. Toby looked horrified, shifting his weight anxiously like he had a question on his tongue. The whole scene reminded him of Brian, the first time the two actually sat down to talk, he appeared baffled, utterly shocked that Tim had such complexities. 

He shocked even himself some days, looking back at the clusterfuck Marble Hornets turned into. How his unreliable narration convinced him he was the hero of their story. He rationally knew it was all Slender’s doing, and even if that wasn't true, even if life lost its meaning the second he rose back from the dead just to dish it out on a silver platter, he could never take the credit for killing his friends. 

“So.. Basically I’m fucked?” His tone was disappointed, like Tim had just broken a promise. It stung a bit, but not enough for Tim to comment on it. He remembered feeling like that, back during his time at the institution. He remembered the nurses saying he was beyond fixing, and obviously, he had no choice but to believe them. “I never said that,” He sighed, “when given unfair circumstances, people tend to do what they think is right or nothing at all. Your head is unfair, Tobias. Your actions are valid, you’re allowed to want to change that.”

Toby looked at him distantly, Tim hoped that maybe that feeling would hit him to. The elder sighed.

“Distract yourself. Give your head some time and see if the feelings pass.” He then turned his attention to the food, lifting the pan with ease while talking. He walked to the trash and scraped in the perfectly charred French Toast. “Slender doesn’t want us healthy.. He wants us at our worst so he can do what he wants with us.” Tim hummed, walking around Toby to get to the sink. This pan was now someone else’s problem. 

“Can't fucking believe this shit,” Tobias mumbled, grabbing the plate of food to bring to the island full of poorly handcrafted wooden barstools. 

Tim could have chuckled at that. 

Tim watched the kid’s face contort into a frown. “Sorry,” He said, sitting down to begin eating.   

The two ate in silence, apart from Toby’s rhythmic vocalizations. What an eventful breakfast.