froggyworlds - Tumblr blog

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tossed confession!Dave into the past what will he do [cry. he'll cry a lot.]

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top ten things you should not say to a guy who’s terrified for his life of alternates and already sort of suspects you (and other doodles)

and yes that last one is based on the

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Dave tells the only two therapists in Mandela County to stay away from Thatcher but it’s for good reason (part one)

based on this post

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two branches. same au, same(-ish) outcome, but they've all got their different ways of getting there. give them time. it's all they have left, after all; it won't be much longer now.

[tw minor face horror under the cut]

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personally I think everything would've been totally fine if they'd just hugged it out (and DIDN'T melt. I am looking at you, @moonflwer-gutz. /lh, ij)

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tw for gun, vague allusion to suicide

they're. really going through it, huh.

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shifting trouble [face horror(-ish) under the cut]

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some storyboards, bonus more detailed bit from panel 2.4 under cut

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I receive: humanity issues and one(1) awesome jamming session to The Cure

you receive: one(1) dead best friend and also one(1) awesome jamming session to The Cure

(courtesy of a totally fun and silly and nothing else lil roleplay between myself and @rekilu, ah. I know you've seen the art before but I hope you don't mind being tagged)

bonus: before September 1992 (Mark is making fun of him for being short. again.)

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☎️: Oh, hey, I remember that picnic we had; you remember that, right? Your mom and my mom brought all the food, I remember… Mamá spent all day getting her basket ready. That was the most I ever saw your mom smile. We had… churros for desert, I think. Remember that?

☎️: O-or, or, uh, I remember the time you showed up at my house at, like, three in the morning. And you climbed up to my bedroom window on the second floor, and you were soaked to the bone and I remember that I thought it was kind of funny until I noticed you were crying. And then we just… sat like that. For however long it was. And then we had pancakes for breakfast, and it was… it was all okay again.

☎️: I-I remember the secret handshakes and the s-stupid inside jokes. And how we met, a-and- and I don’t- I d-don’t want to hurt you, Mark. I don’t. I won’t. I… can’t. Not with- not with all of these memories of caring about you. Y-you were his friend. And I took that away and that was wrong, but- if I have everything that made him Cesar, a-all his memories and everything else, isn’t that- isn’t… I…

☎️: Please. Please open the door. Or just talk to me. W-we can- we can talk it out. Just say something, I-I mean, I know you’re there. Please.

☎️: …I’m so sorry, Mark.

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Good-Looking College Student In A Striking Kind of Way Freaks Out, Attacks And Kills Squirrel On Campus

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More random tropes that I fucking love: Becoming the mask you wore.

Like oh shit, this character who was sent to spy somewhere under a false identity suddenly realises they've started to genuinely become the person they claimed to be? Someone who's been telling the same lies about who they are for so long that they're actually forgetting that the story isn't true? Finding themselves genuinely doing the things they pretend to do in front of people, when they're alone and nobody's watching? Answering to a name that wasn't supposed to be theirs without thinking?

Ooohh-hoh-hoh, you lost track of yourself in pretending to be someone else? You were only supposed to impersonate somebody, a plausible background and a name you came up with on the spot, and now that the people you were supposed to infiltrate have become your true companions? You lost yourself in the game you played, and no you no longer know who you truly are, and where your true loyalties lie? And both sides would mark you a traitor if you came out with the truth. On a scale of one to ten, how bad did you fuck up.

Fuck that is a good trope. Never seen it done badly. Pour that shit on a table and I'll chop it into lines and snort it.

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.thinking about. how Adam said "it was my fault" in presto. thinking about how hearing Jonah's screams "made [him] feel really bad in a way [he] ha[s]n't felt before." thinking about how Adam drove off with the car only a minute after Jonah died. thinking about. just. FUCK. okay so

do uh. do you think that during catalyst he was begging Thatcher to kill him not because he was afraid of what he might do, but because of what it had already done. who it had already killed.

LISTEN OK THE CONCEPT OF ADAM KILLING JONAH AT THE END OF VOL.2 MAKES ME INSANE. ALRIGHT. because. because .picture this;

there was no other alternate. the lure to the house was just that- a ploy to set the machine in motion, to fit the cog into its place. the GPS was probably Six's doing, to get Jonah to stop the car.

meanwhile, Adam's just gotten the first inklings of revelation dropped on him. the apple's been bitten, but not digested, not even swallowed yet if we're gonna use that metaphor

his head's filled with static and it's so cold and he can't feel his fingers and how long has he been walking, now? minutes? hours? days? years? (what difference does it make to something of its kind, anyways?) and maybe it sees the headlights and feels the distant buzz of terror and maybe things become just a bit of a blur of instinct-driven starvation - not hunger - because it hasn't properly fed in seventeen years and it is so hungry

(and no, the horror movies with the others barely count. those were tiny morsels whenever Jonah flinched at a jumpscare, or Sarah started swearing loudly when the monster was creeping up behind the protagonists, or Evelin made a fairly convincing excuse to go to the bathroom during the scariest scene. those were nothing more than the eldritch fear-consuming equivalent to a handful of chips, so minuscule they were barely even processed besides a faint, pleasant buzz in the back of Adam's throat. nothing like now.)

maybe there was a brief "come on, let's go," a final clinging to control, a silent cry to just get in the car and act like it's fine, Jonah, please, please let's just leave and forget this happened. please. I don't want to remember. I don't want to hurt you.

(for the record: despite being an alternate, a being made of nothing but lies, Adam is a terrible liar. "i hate him, i hate him a lot," is what he wrote. but you don't get an invitation to go out for pizza from someone you hate, after years of knowing them and going on investigations with them. you don't watch cheesy movies or make inside jokes or spend the new year with someone you hate, at the very least not in the way Adam describes. being annoyed by someone's habits is different than hating them. being bad at showing compassion is different than not caring at all. not understanding emotions because you are not human, and were not designed to feel the way humans do, does not mean that you are not still experiencing those emotions despite your nature.)

but that plea was met with an "I'm not going anywhere with you," the weak growl of a cornered animal, of a prophet staring into the gaping maw of his divine whale, as though he had any choice besides being swallowed alive. (as though there were any reason to be afraid of what cannot be stopped.)

Bad decision, Jonah.

"and why is that?"

a taunt. slight head tilt to the side. pupils a little too dilated. conscious gives way to instinct, coiled like a spring, like a predator moments from striking. the cornered-animal growl becomes a whimper, bleeding out (drowning?) in a sea of snow (or was it flowers?). broken and scared, because "if by some miracle you come back out alive, I don't think you'd be yourself," but now he is here to confirm it.

"because you're not really him, are you?"

and the confirmation is given. in shadow-laced barbs tearing through sweet mortal flesh, fangs and eyes (so many eyes, too many eyes-) drinking up their victim's terror like nectar, coils of writhing static and displaced joints draining the life out of Jonah Marshall's to the final drop.

and for a split second, it is perfect. it is exactly what it is supposed to be. nothing has ever felt as right as this.

and then the feeding frenzy fades, and so does the memory of it, and then Adam is in the car and driving with nothing but a prickling sense of impossible Wrongness and impossible Rightness in equal measure in the foggiest corner of the back of his mind.

and then comes the memorial video. and the recording from the dashcam of him shouting at himself, voices overlapping, PLEASE, JUST GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEA

and then Six, the man in the corner, the man in the TV, talks to him. and it's right. when Adam Murray looks into the mirror, he sees the same monster from his bedroom. the one that loomed over him when he was four, that sank its talons into that innocent little boy and became him so completely even it forgot its own facade.

and it remembers what it did to Jonah.

and so it begs Thatcher Davis to kill it. because the trash bag didn't work and the rope didn't work (it worked for Lynn why not for the cruel mimicry of her son come on please) and the cinder block didn't work and the bleach didn't work and nothing else worked, so please, maybe this. because everything hurts. and not because it's afraid of what it might do, but because of what it has already done.

because Jonah Marshall is dead. because the thing wearing Adam Murray's skin killed him.

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When girls are bugs <3

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"Motes of yellow and red fly across the midnight sky, blooming from flashes of blue-white explosions. Green and orange spark over the black, embers dancing in the air before darkening forever; a fleeting light over this darkened county. A transient hope that this new year will go well and smoothly, that perhaps things might improve, that perhaps change and opportunity will come." Mandela County celebrates the new year with each other; with hope and expectation.

it's still new year's somewhere right. this is a little late, but here's a thing I wrote for the new year! they're happy. for once. your regularly scheduled agonies shall return soon, but until then, here's a less serious piece of the cast celebrating the new year!

do leave a comment if you liked it! enjoy! :]

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FUCK YEAH IT'S FINALLY UP !!!!! labor of love and definitely just of love and not of mind control of evil intents whatsoever, its:

Basically, everything's fucked.

Adam's life - if you could even call it that - is a lie. Thatcher's life has been falling apart for the last seventeen years. So has Sarah's. Evelin's… okay, to be perfectly honest, Evelin's not doing too bad right now, but she did just get fired from the only job left in Mandela County. And, oh yeah, the apocalypse probably just started happening. Long story short, it's all going to shit.

So what other options do the survivors (fuck, are they the only survivors?) have left? Well, they can either stand alone and get picked off one by one, or… they can band together. And hope that maybe, somehow, just maybe, they stand even an inkling of a chance against the end of the world as we know it.

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happy catalyst day y'all, enjoy the nearly 7.8k of MYTHIC WRITING WOOHOO (can you tell I'm really really really excited to finally be posting this. because I am. oh my god I've been waiting for like. forever since I finished it but I was WAITING. for TODAY. specifically.) so anyways yeah have fun guys !!! as always, mind the warnings etc. but besides that KNOCK YOURSELVES OUT !! and I'll see you in the next post :)