the marble hornets

Seth Wilson from Marble Hornets is autistic!


  • He’s the camera man and seems to know a lot about what he’s doing, and is even hinted to be making music in one of the entries. Going from that, it’s possible that he might really like technology, but have a super big special interest in photography.
  • In Entry 9, the screen time he has shows him fiddling with a script almost subconsciously – probably a stim.
  • Also in Entry 9, Alex mentions that Seth brought his dog, hinting that Seth finds comfort in his dog and takes the dog everywhere to feel more comfortable.
  • Seth gets more and more nervous when Alex gets mad at him or just seems mad, hinting and hypersensitivity and bad emotion processing.”

- anon

Vanishing Point - Chapter 2

WHOA HEY remember when I posted the first part of a thing months ago and never posted more LOOK HERE’S MORE OOPS (AO3)



Tim, it’s me.”

Already, he knows what this is.

I watched the tape that I took from you. And now, I’m at Rosswood, trying to retrace Alex and Jessica’s steps.”

Why now, though? Years, it’s been years, nearly three, since this voicemail was, for all intents and purposes, lost to the ether.

A hint of static bleeds through the speaker and Jay’s voice cracks along with it, and Tim’s fingers tighten around the phone. How long it’s been since he’s heard that static anywhere but in his own head, spreading behind his eyes on sleepless nights when he can still taste the blood in the back of his throat, can still feel it flaking beneath his fingernails and staining his hands no matter how hard he tries to scrub it away.

I crossed through that tunnel…” More static, drowning out the rest of the sentence, but it doesn’t matter; the words ring in his ears anyway, clear as day.  

He shouldn’t be surprised by this. He’s not stupid; he’d noticed all of the time-related oddities that that thing seemed fond of causing. He and Jay even had a conversation about it once, a few months after the fact, after they descended into a dark basement in the middle of the day and escaped less than a minute later into a pitch-black night.

He doesn’t like to think about that night.

Still, the precedent is there; he shouldn’t be surprised by this.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Just…call me, as soon as you get this.”

As the rest of the message plays, the audio grows more distorted, and Tim sits frozen, a numb heaviness settling into his joints. He’d reach for the heater to chase away the ice clawing at his veins, if he could only move, could only do anything but listen silently as Jay’s words become choked gasps for air.

And then, just like that, the message ends, and the spell is broken.

Tim blinks a few times, lets out a breath.

His thumb hovers above the trash icon.

It’s just an echo, no more real than any of the nightmares that have become increasingly few and far-between the more distance he puts behind himself. It’s nothing more than a piece of corrupted memory; he can’t help now, anymore than he could back then, and it can’t help him. There’s nothing to do now but let go.

But then, he supposes, it can’t really hurt him now, either, can it?

He presses Call.

And he waits, as he always does, as the line rings once, twice, and a third time, and he holds his breath and counts down from five and braces himself for the harsh computerized voice informing him that the number he’s dialed isn’t available right now, and when instead of the familiar message he hears a click and a dull thud on the other end he nearly drops the phone again.

“Jay?” The word is out of his mouth before he can stop it, so hopeful that it surprises him. He presses the phone harder into his ear until it hurts, squeezes his eyes shut to focus on the static that he slowly identifies as wind coming through the speaker, and another, sharper sound that he can’t quite identify.

None of those noises sound like a response, though, and his shoulders sag a bit already, but he can’t stop himself from trying again, “Jay, is that… Are you there?”

A shuffling reaches his ears, and his breathing halts completely.

“Hhe…” It’s a soft noise, barely identifiable as human, but it is. “Low?”

“Oh my God. Jay, oh my God where are you are you alright can you hear me do you understand me–” He’s already shifting the car into drive, screeching out of the parking lot and hardly hearing the blaring horns of protest from behind him.

“Low…I…” That sharp noise from before drowns Jay out for a moment. “W–where…”

“Jay, listen to me, this is Tim, I…” God, where does he begin? What can he even say to someone who’s been dead – he was dead, Tim saw his corpse for fuck’s sake – for the better part of three years? “I– I need to know where you are. I need you to tell me what’s around you, can you do that?” He’s headed east on the interstate, already, he knows the general direction that he has to go because there’s nowhere else in the world that Jay could be…

At least, he hopes so.

“Please, Jay, this is really important,” he adds, and it sounds like Jay is working to collect his breath, like the simple act of speaking is draining all the energy he has left.

And for all Tim knows, it very well could be, and his already-white knuckles tighten on the steering wheel at that thought.

“T…trees,” is Jay’s labored reply, and Tim nearly throws the phone out the window.

“I need you to be more specific than just trees, Jay, please,” and it takes every ounce of his self-control to sound calm, and collected, to keep the panic and urgency from bleeding into every word as Jay is probably bleeding out right now and he’s so damn far away and he can’t be too late again

“Trees,” Jay repeats, and there’s a wheezing cough before he finally manages to choke out, with a distinctly emphasized th sound, “Threes.”

Jay starts to say something else, but that sharp sound from before blares in Tim’s ear instead, insistent and piercing, and he finally identifies it as a bird, screeching from somewhere oddly close to the microphone on the other end.

“Jay, I’m coming to find you, just… Stay put, if you’re somewhere that seems safe, and I'll–”

There’s a thud in his ear, and Tim’s heart skips a beat.


The static on the other end has stopped.

“Jay, are you there?”

He pulls the phone away from his ear with a curse. The call seems to have dropped, but there’s no notification, like it never happened in the first place.

He shakes his head, with a mix of something like denial and determination blooming in his chest, and floors it.



You Brought Your Dog to the Wrong Neighborhood
glue70, Alex Kralie, and Schrodinger's Rufus
You Brought Your Dog to the Wrong Neighborhood

“You Brought Your Dog to the Wrong Neighborhood”, a mashup between glue70 and the dulcet tones of Alex Kralie. (Soundcloud link) 

Inspired by “You Made Monsters in the Wrong Neighborhood” by sharkbait-tumbles, which is in turn inspired by “You Reposted in the Wrong Neighborhood” by  SHOKK青, which is, in turn, a mashup.

Marble Hornets eBay Masterpost

If you are a Marble Hornets fan and enjoy either cosplay or collecting memorabilia (or both!), you’re in luck! I’m currently auctioning off several props and clothing items that I wore/used in the series, and this is the post where I will be adding links to each eBay listing. Be sure to bookmark this post to check for updates! Just click the text beneath each photo to go to the eBay listing.


Marble Hornets - Tim’s Jacket


Marble Hornets - Tim’s Mug


  Marble Hornets - Gray Plaid Button-Up Shirt (Entry #53)


Marble Hornets - Blue Ringer T-Shirt (Entry #61)


Marble Hornets - Red Henley Shirt (Entry #66)


Marble Hornets - Red Ringer T-Shirt (Entry #63)


Marble Hornets - Gray Ringer T-Shirt (Entry #69)


TimMan’s Rollerblades - Troy Moves Out