#the mandela catalogue fic

[mythicandco]

Hehe

Fic name: "Such simple, human things"

tw for self loathing/minor self harm, identity crises, minor body horror, and other typical tmc things

birthdays are one of the most human things one can imagine. what other creature celebrates anniversaries of its own birth? it's just one year closer to death. just another 365 days you can look at and say, "hey, I didn't die." it's another reminder of their impermanence, their fragility, wrapped in a pretty bow with icing and candles on top.

Adam Murray only ever had four(three?) birthdays. the rest were stolen from him from the monster in his bedroom, in his television, and now in his place.

his - the real one, not the copy, the simulacrum, the lie (because as much as they tell it that it had no way of knowing, "it wasn't your fault," that it's just as much Adam Murray as the human was, it knows they're lying) - first birthday was a half-remembered blur. there were smiling faces and bright balloons and a little cake with a single candle that his parents blew out for him snuffed out much the same way he had been smothered by shadowy claws, swallowed up by snapping jaws, given away to an insatiable hunger that didn't even remember itself and a pile of toys they'd gotten him as presents, but the details were smudged and darkened and buried and burned around the edges, like a polariod partially consumed by the hungry flames after a house fire.

its first birthday, after Lynn and Jude were gone, was spent in a hollow room. the caretakers at the orphanage had done their best to put together a party for it, but they functioned only on donations and so it was a bit small, with scarce decorations. it didn't need it, anyways. it stared blankly, almost hungrily at the five candles flickering before it, their light glinting and reflecting on its eyes.

"make a wish," a smiling adult said, trying to keep the unease out of their voice. it drank it up, sweeter than any icing, before speaking.

"I wish-"

"no, you don't say it out loud," another kid protested, a bit older but not by much, seeing as in truth the thing across the table from her was older than time. "if you do, it won't come true!"

"oh." it blinked at her, and she looked away quickly, biting her lip. "okay." it thought for a moment, then closed its eyes.

I wish for Mommy to come back.

some habits die hard.

it blew out the candles.

on its thirteenth birthday, he had already known Jonah for a handful of years. they'd met the forth time Adam ran away from the orphanage, when they were both eight, on an almost-warm day in September where the air lingered with schoolwork and guilt. Adam had been slowly taking it in when he heard a sharp cry of pain and, lo and behold, there was a boy on the sidewalk, fresh treacle salty tears streaming down his face and sticky sweet blood oozing from the scratch on his knee.

Adam looked down at him, blocking out the sun behind him, and reached out a hand. Jonah took it and stood up.

"th-thanks," he managed, wiping at the corners of his eyes.

"no problem. where do you live? I'll walk you back."

"oh, it's just here. where's your parents?"

"I'm alone."

"oh." Jonah stared at the other boy with silent reverence. "that's so cool."

it wasn't, but Adam latched onto the way Jonah looked at him, and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

they'd been best friends ever since, and Jonah's parents had arranged a party for Adam. Jonah got to design the cake, and it was a lovely thing, all black icing with overlapping red leaves, little glimpses of white teeth gleaming from behind them.

"impressive," Adam hummed, and meant it. the cake was styled with exquisite detail he had no idea his friend was capable of. "you should be an artist or something, this is super cool."

Jonah grinned with pride. "I knew you'd think so." he held up his hand. Adam blinked. Jonah blinked back, and after a moment whispered, "give me a high five."

"oh," Adam said. he flashed a smile and did just that.

Jonah's parents watched the children from a distance.

birthdays after that passed in a blur. Jonah was no longer allowed to decorate birthday cakes. Evelin came into Adam's life. the "party" part of "birthday party" began to fade. his friends would still get him presents, but for a while birthdays held almost no meaning- just another day of his life, nothing important, certainly nothing to celebrate.

and then there was Adam Murray's sixteenth birthday.

his sixteenth birthday was his favorite. it was a freezing January day, the kind of cold that could easily give you hypothermia if you stayed out in it too long, the kind of cold that made tongues stick to telephone poles, the kind of cold that made your joints go stiff and brittle, enough that maybe just a little bit of pressure would make them snap-

Jonah was the first awake that day, since he was gone when Adam sat up, still cocooned in the navy blue sleeping bag on the other boy's bedroom floor. Jonah's parents had decided that they were too old to sleep in the same bed during sleepovers anymore, and the couch was too far away downstairs, so sleeping bags it was.

"Jonah?" the blonde called out, swirling blue eyes like the sky on snow trailing across the room. empty.

and then he came trudging in, beaming from ear to ear, donning a thick winter coat that was a little too big and tracking snow through the house with his snowboots, which he hadn't bothered to take off. "Adam! you're awake! great, come on, come on come on."

without further warning, the other boy took Adam's arm, dragged him to his feet, and out they went. the blonde let out a yelp, struggling to free himself and throw on a coat and some shoes before they went outside.

"what are you-" Adam tried to start, but Jonah froze to the spot, closed his eyes, and placed a finger to his friend's lips. "shhhh. shshshsh shhhh shh. it'll ruin the surprise."

Adam kept his mouth shut, rolling his eyes and trying to hide his smirk.

"so, y'know how you're sixteen and all now?" Jonah remarked conversationally as the duo stepped outside, putting a hand over Adam's eyes. he tried to push the other's hand away, but Jonah held fast, harshly whispering "stop, you can't see it yet." and he stopped struggling. "welll, I figured, hey, maybe now's a great time to show him... THIS!"

he lifted his hands from Adam's eyes and the boy blinked, momentarily blinded by the dazzling white snow. his pupils shrank for a moment to accommodate, and then there it was.

"oh."

Jonah was somehow beaming wider now, cheeks and nose flushed with red from the cold, breath misting in the frigid air. "sooo? whatdya think?"

it was... a van. silvery-black and sleek with a new paint job, glistening like something unearthly against the clear blue sky and stark white snow.

"oh, wow."

Jonah excitedly rapped on the hood with a mitten-sheathed hand, eyes sparkling as brightly as the van was. "I found this old girl in a junkyard a while back- remember?? and I got Dad to get a tow truck to bring it back here and I was keeping it a secret 'cause I wanted to surprise you and aren't you surprised? isn't it awesome?"

Adam cracked a grin.

"it is awesome. I mean- holy shit, Jonah. you did this all yourself?" he leaned closer, peering at his reflection in the window before his eyes refocused to see the interior.

Jonah's glee was all-consuming, giddiness pouring out of him like sunshine, and Adam let himself bask in it while his friend rambled on about technical jargon and engineering manuals and months of trying to find the right parts and-

"and today's the test drive! if you think you're up for it."

"I don't have a license."

"neither do I!" Jonah grinned, devious and yet innocent. "I've scooted it around a little, I think it handles pretty well, but it's your sweet sixteenth. you only get one of these. I want you to do the honors."

"what if I crash it?" he could imagine it; the vehicle slamming into a wall or guardrail, metal crunching, glass shattering, leatherette seats melting into flesh, bones cracking under the weight of the impact-

"you're not going anywhere," Jonah chuckled, wrapping a warm arm around Adam, so unaware. "just around the block. if you go too fast or anything I'll tell you to slow down, don't worry."

with that, he slid the keys into Adam's hands. they were still warm from his pocket, his eyes still wide in anticipation.

Adams fingers curled around the metal as it cooled in the air, meeting Jonah's eyes with a smile of his own. "alright, if you're sureee- RACE YOU TO THE VAN!"

"wh- HEY!" Jonah yelped, almost tripping over himself in the snow as he flailed, trying to grab the back of Adam's hoodie. "UNFAIR, I WASN'T READY!"

"BETTER CALL SHOTGUN!" the blonde hollered back, skidding into a sharp turn and grabbing the driver's side door.

"THERE'S ONLY TWO OF US!" Jonah complained back, kicking up snow in his wake as he nearly slammed his weight into the door. the boy's hair - dyed dark purple this month - peeked out from under the hood of his puffy winter jacket, and as soon as he was in the passenger's seat he pulled his hood down and hummed a little, combing through his bedhead with his fingers.

Adam's fingers tingled with anticipation as he closed them around the steering wheel, feet feeling for the pedals. Jonah was taking driver's ed, and had given him a handful of sort of-driving lessons, enough that he knew to shift the gear into reverse to pull out of the driveway.

"CAREFUL! careful," his friend yelped. "don't forget to adjust the rearview mirror and shit so you don't hit anything."

Adam smirked. "right, because I'm taller than you."

Jonah sputtered indignantly for a second, then huffed and sank into his seat, pouting comically. "only 'cause of that random stupid growth spurt."

Adam shrugged, which involved closing his eyes, and Jonah screamed again as they nearly backed up over his parents' flowerbed.

after slowly edging the van around the block a few times (each successive round making Adam more confident in his driving ability, and Jonah less so), the duo switched seats and Jonah made a few more excited noises, flapping his hands a little before settling them on the steering wheel. Adam quirked an eyebrow at him.

"where are we going now?"

Jonah smiled. "another surprise, I'm afraid. now buckle up, buttercup."

they arrived at the cinema just as the movie Jonah had picked out to watch was starting.

"where'd you get enough money for tickets?" Adam asked, already half-knowing the answer. Jonah theatrically placed a hand to his chest, mocking a surprised expression.

"Adam!" he exclaimed, draping an arm around his friend's shoulders and falling back with the other to his forehead. "I'm surprised you think so highly of me!"

they snuck in, blending with the crowd and hiding their faces with their hoodies. the movie itself - something called The Butterfly Effect - wasn't great; it was an interesting premise involving amnesia and time travel, but that was the extent of the praise.

"BOO!" Adam shouted, hands cupped around his mouth to make his voice echo. Jonah laughed and threw a discarded bucket of popcorn at the screen. security came and kicked them out, but the teens didn't stop laughing even as they were shoved back out into the bitter cold.

Jonah, doubled over, finally regained his breath and inhaled deeply, wiping away his tears before they could freeze on his cheeks. Adam chuckled a little, gelid air rushing down the back of his throat. he stifled his laughter with a cough, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie after a minute.

"that was great," he'd come to say later, once he and Jonah got home, changed into something comfier, and flopped onto the couch, letting the radiator bring warmth back into their bones.

"no problem," his friend replied, flashing that winning smile again and looking to Adam with the same reverence his eyes had held when they first met. he held up a hand, and Adam moved to high-five it.

that had been his favorite birthday. seventeen was fine, eighteen was fine - that party had been at the BPS' new headquarters, and yeah, that was pretty cool - and from there things only got worse.

and now Jonah's gone. it's still cold and snowing outside, but it's dark and deep. this cold has claws that are all too happy to slit a throat.

it swallows down the bile rising in its mouth, shuffling around in the dark and adjusting the old, worn blanket over its shoulders. it's been two days since what happened at the house, but its ribs still ache and its throat still burns.

somewhere in the other room, Thatcher and Evelin are asleep in their respective spots, Thatcher on one side of his couch and Evelin on the other. it remembers almost thinking Thank God when it found out Evie was safe before catching itself, because there was no God to hear it and anything that did would be considerably less friendly.

it remembers begging them to just lock it in the closet or something, but the other two had for some inexplicable reason decided that they would be fine on the couch, and "you can have the bedroom, Adam, it's okay. we can block up the door fine, and you deserve a comfortable place to sleep as much as any of us."

it doesn't. it doesn't deserve any of this. it deserves to be brought out back and shot until it can't hurt anyone ever again. it deserves the fate Jonah didn't- to die out in the snow, alone, forgotten. it deserves to be hurt in all the ways it hurt everyone around it.

its hands curl around the fabric over its chest, a spare hoodie Thatcher had lying around. it fits surprisingly well, and was a reluctantly welcome change from the... open-ness of before, sitting shirtless in the corner. there were no dark corners to fold into and hide away, nowhere to disappear to, nothing to shield it from the outside world. it was awful, being exposed like that. it deserved the discomfort, yes, but that had never made it feel better.

despite the fact that there's a bed in the room, it had still refused to sleep in it, instead opting to have a blanket and some pillows on the floor. it doesn't even need to sleep, why should it have a bed for it? monsters don't have beds.

there's a little tap on the door.

"Adam?"

the stolen name whisps into the bedroom like something physical, a reminder of the human boy that lost his life to further the plans of a false God. its chest feels heavy.

"I'm awake," it says, instead of echoing Evelin's words back at her. her voice tasted wrong in its mouth anyways. "what's up?"

there's a little tug. a thin thread of string connecting them, and Thatcher, and every alternate, and everyone else with M.A.D. in the universe. Evelin shifts to lean her back against the wall on the other side of the door, and it listens to her heartbeat through the wood.

"can't sleep. you?"

it shakes its head, and she half-feels it. it adjusts its heartbeat so that they're in unison. "nope."

there's a light, bitter laugh. quiet enough not to wake Thatcher, loud enough that it imprints itself into Adam's bones, and for a moment it can almost pretend that it does deserve his name.

"it's almost 12 AM," Evelin breathes. there's a quality to her voice, like a mourner at a funeral. it drips through the cracks of Adam's mind. "it's almost January 18th."

its stomach twists into a knot. "I'm sorry."

"it's okay, Adam. I'm sorry that you're turning 21 while... all this is going on."

they sit in silence for a moment. the digital clock on Thatcher's nightstand changes from 11:59 PM to 12:00 AM. Evelin gets up, presses her hand against the door. Adam moves to do the same, and it's almost like their fingertips are touching.

"happy birthday."

"I don't have a birthday," it tries to say. "it's just a date I stole from some kid with his whole life ahead of him. he should be alive right now, not me. Jonah should be alive right now, too. and Lynn. birthdays are a simple, human thing. nothing about me is simple or human."

"what about humans is simple?" Evelin asks, looking up as though looking to the stars, or looking to the red fruit hanging just within reach over her head. "you're not a monster, Adam. you had no way of knowing. and when you found out, instead of going with their plans for you, you fought back. are fighting back."

"but Jonah's-"

"I know. it's not okay. but we're going to stop this before anyone else gets hurt. and it's not your fault. being human isn't about- it's not biology. it's about heart. you can have humanity. you can have love. you can have friends. you can have birthdays."

their hands are still pressed against both sides of the door. he feels the air in his lungs, the wood against his skin, the blanket around his shoulders. "why are you so good at this."

"I used to date you, you idiot. I know you. plus, everyone's brains are kind of melting right now. it's hard not to be empathetic."

he wipes away the tears he's sure they're sharing, pulls away reluctantly. "thank you."

"maybe when it gets light out we can throw together a cake. or something cake-adjacent." she laughs, just a bit. "good night, Adam. happy birthday."

"night, Ev."

he finds himself smiling a little, through the tears. happy birthday.

love. friends. birthdays. such simple, human things.

[froggyworlds]

hihihi alternate Adam makes me physically sick in the best way possible so naturally I’m going to screech over @shmorp-mcdurgen’s amazing Mandela Prophet design all day long or whatever

tw for body horror, blood, and spiders!! or like. mention of spiders in comparison to the body horror basically. …good god

Sarah Heathcliff pushed her chair out from her desk, muttering a string of curses under her breath.

“What the fuck was that? Is he insane?! I swear to God, Murray, if this is some kind of elaborate prank-” The girl dragged a hand down her face, letting out a long, shaky sigh. Even as she said it, Sasha had a sinking feeling that that “memorial video” wasn’t a prank. If she was being completely honest, she understood almost exactly what it was, and no matter how much she tried to deny it, she knew she was going to have to go and check it out.

Curiosity killed the cat and now it’s going to kill me, too, she mused bitterly. If that absolute idiot got himself caught by an alternate-

Sarah didn’t let that train of thought continue. She was more than happy to kick an alternate’s ass tonight, all she needed was an excuse.

The BPS headquarters were eerily quiet when Sarah arrived, the darkness almost stifling, like something was pressing against her throat, making it hard to breathe.

Undeterred, the girl flicked on a light and immediately blinked the dots out of her vision, squinting down the hallway.

“Adam? You better be here, asshole.”

She was met with complete silence, the kind of choked, muffled silence that weighs heavy on the chest.

Balling her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, the girl cautiously made her way down the hall towards Adam’s room. The entrance to which unfortunately sat at just the right angle to block most of the light from the hallway, even with the door open.

“Adam,” she tried again. “Seriously, if you’re here, don’t be stupid and jump out at me. …I thought the cheap jumpscares were Jonah’s thing.”

Once again, nothing but the ringing in her ears.

Hold on. Was that the sound of floorboards creaking? The soft shifting of fabric? Was her brain making up sounds now, desperate for something straining against the quiet?

“I know you’re in there,” she hissed, only half-believing her words. “The joke’s over, you’re not scaring me.”

She stepped into his bedroom, reaching for the light switch.

“I think that’s where you’re wrong,” Adam’s voice hummed, mildly amused but with a rawness behind it, like he’d been screaming or crying earlier. Sarah jumped before reaching the switch, and the voice in the dark gave a dry chuckle. “You’re scared shitless.”

The girl squinted into Adam’s room, but could only barely make out a figure sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, backing out of the room.

“You think I’m a doppelgänger, right, Sarah?” the voice offered. “That the Adam you know died not too long ago and I’m a cheap copy.”

She grit her teeth, suddenly wishing she’d brought her bat with her. It was lying in the main room, propped up against the couch. She wasn’t sure how fast this thing was, or if it could catch her if she ran now.

“I’m not, though!” It let out a strangled laugh, like there was something being forced down its throat, and it nearly gagged mid-chuckle. A blackened hand reached around the doorframe, and Sarah backed away even further, eyes wide.

The rest of the alternate revealed itself, crawling out into the hallway. It had eight spiderlike arms with elongated fingers and pitch black hands sprouting out of the back of its limp body, what would’ve been its main set of limbs (if it were a human and not an alternate) dangling almost entirely motionlessly at its sides.

It certainly looked like Adam if it weren’t for the extra arms, and Sarah noted in quiet horror that there seemed to be an entire set of hands dedicated to holding Adam’s head in place, covering his eyes and mouth. One of the appendages lowered, and when Adam’s mouth opened, small, black… legs, or something flicked out, as if tasting the air instead seeing.

“It’s worse than that!” Its head jerked to the side, slightly, and the hands tightened their grip for a moment. “I’ve always been an alternate. Can you believe it?”

Sarah’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. The thing that looked vaguely like Adam continued.

“This whole time, everything I knew was a fucking lie, Sarah. I’m one of the monsters we’ve been trying so hard to fight.”

“You’re lying,” Sarah finally managed to spit out.

“I wish I was.” The extra pair of arms (not the set holding Adam’s head or the massive pair that seemed to act as the creature’s legs) shrugged helplessly. One of its limp limbs twitched, but it paid the motion no mind. “Sarah, you have no idea how much I wish I was.”

The whole thing shuddered for a moment, and the hands covering Adam’s eyes pulled away slightly, revealing panicked blue irises. The strange black leg-mandible-things in his mouth momentarily retracted and his expression immediately twisted into one akin to absolute horror.

With a voice that sounded like he desperately needed to cough and clear his throat, the boy screamed.

“RUN!”

Sarah, acting on pure instinct and adrenaline, did as she was told, whirling around and making a dive for her bat. The alternate quickly righted itself, tightening its grip on Adam’s body once again. It didn’t say anything else, instead suddenly bursting into motion in pursuit.

Fucking shit, it was fast.

Sarah swung her bat in a wide arc, felt it connect with something, and spun on her heel to sprint away again. She slammed the door behind her, hoping that would give her at least another second longer, and scrambled into the BPS van, jamming her key in the ignition.

“Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit-”

The vehicle started up, and she punched the gas just before one of those black hands could smash through the window and drag her back out.

She swerved around a corner, barely missing the curb, in hopes of throwing it even further off. She was definitely speeding. It couldn’t run 70 miles an hour or however illegally fast she was going in a partially residential area, right?

For a good while she just sped along, pushing the engine to the max until she was sure the alternate was far, far behind her.

Hopefully.

Finally, the reality of the situation fully sunk in.

Adam’s an alternate. Adam Murray, acquaintance of two and a half years, is a fucking alternate.

The worst part was that it made sense. His detachment from other people, his weird apathy and fearlessness, the way his emotions always seemed to do a 180 out of nowhere… she almost felt stupid for not seeing it sooner, but who would expect their friend (friend? How well did she even know Adam, really? It wasn’t like she ever told him anything about her, either) to be a horrifying nightmare monster?

Unless it was lying. That was likely, too. It could’ve killed Adam, taken his appearance, done all the usual alternate-y things.

The painful tug on her heart told her that wasn’t the case.

“Who the hell am I gonna call for help?” she muttered to herself. Not the police. Did she have any other allies?

There was one person. Neither of them we’re going to like it, though.

Sarah started on route for the MandelaTech shop, hoping Evelin was still working there.

[ghostly-bastard-artchive]

I forgor (TMC Fanfic)

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Do you ever forget something that you KNOW you know? Like when you write something so many times it's a given, a muscle memory. Doing it over and over and knowing it as a part of you.

Then your muscles just, , , don't remember.

Muscles not remembering something is such a weird thought though, cause that's the thing, they don't have thoughts, his chest isn't deciding to move up and down.

I mean yeah, there are electric impulses through the flesh, and that is all thoughts really are when you get all "existential" and nitpicking about it but, , , it's different. There's probably a science behind that somewhere, how muscle memory works.

He doesn't know, and even if he did it didn't help any now, as he grips the pen.

It was fucking stupid, to be scared this fucking sticky piece of paper. His chest stalled with his breath. He grips the pen harder in his hand, hard enough that his hands are sweaty and that it creaks a bit. This was insane, it was the worst. The paper still stared blank tho, offensive.

Just, just write it down, he tells himself. Fucking, write it down and move on with it. How could he not remember it?! It's just, that's something you KNOW, and how could he not? Was his chest even moving? He knew who he was, what he was here to do and just, , , just write it down, fucking write it down. His chest wasn't moving, how could it be moving, it didn't know to move, cause it didn't know anything and it didn't know what it was and-

"Adam, dude, the fuck is taking so long?"

Adam looks up. There was air in his lungs. He was breathing. Air, air in his lungs like there were supposed to be. They were moving again cause that's what they were supposed to do and it knew that.

Jonah stands there, an eyebrow raised and that stupid fucking lopsided grin on his face as he waits for an answer. His stupid fucking silver hair all falling in his face, and wearing that sweater that smell like a walking drug bust.

Jonah gestures to Adam again.

" Dude, you still a little~?" Jonah made a motion with his hand like he would be pulling a cigarette away from his mouth, a muscle memory for him, probably, those fingers with the black chipped nails had done it enough times. You could probably guess that about him without even knowing Jonah like Adam did.

Adam pulled a scowl on his face and shook his head, bending his head to write as Jonah snorted that stupid light laugh that sounds like he'd never been on the ground long enough to hurt.

"Hi, my name is- _____"

Adam scribbles down "Adam", slapping the sticker on and dashing after Jonah, bumping shoulders with him in the way only friends do and Jonah going to ruffle his hair, Adam easily dodging it with a grumble and Jonah with a laugh, both of them walking further into the building.

[moonlightsmasquerade]

Jonah screamed, falling back watching in horror as the shifting form attached to the body of Adam Murray lurched forward,

“Jo-Jonah.” he said, Jonah could barely hear Adam’s voice, it was entangled within echoes of thousands all speaking at once,

“Help me.”

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

The fate of the jester

[kinqarou]

cesar week day #6

“ just a little sunburnt... ”

[yallmakemyassitch]

Hey! You are amazing (also your right Cesar totally to ticklish for his own good)

Yeah, church boy needs to be humbled immediately and I think I know just how :)

Laughter is always worth the risk

Summary: Cesar hasn't been his usual self and Mark quickly picks this up. Learning that he purposely hid his troubles from him, Mark resorts to an unbearable yet fitting punishment for his friend.

Word count: 903

Characters: 5157

Tobi talks: Yes I did write a whole quick fic and sit on my ass for 7 hours because of those drawings. Yes I have no self control, thanks for asking (please help my thighs hurt so much)

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“Mahahahahark nohohoho!” Cesar howled, his cheeks burning red, embarrassed as his best friend relentlessly teased him. He couldn’t get away, his wrists were firmly bound together by rope, preventing him from fighting back.

“Mark yes~” he teased, digging his fingertips deeper into the sides of his ribcage. The poor teen had been stuck here for a while now, making the huge mistake of hiding his feelings from Mark. His best friend was optimistic and bubbly, so seeing someone he cared about so deeply so upset saddened the teen.

So naturally, he asked him of his troubles and was met with a lie. A bold faced lie that even an idiot would see. Cesar insisted that there was no problem yet Mark continued to prod until he broke down. Mark had to hold himself together as his dear friend was held close in his arms as he cried, venting about how worried sick he was for his mother and their own safety.

Knowing him for so many years, he knew just what to say to soothe the church boy. It wasn’t long after that Cesar felt better and thanked his friend for the support. However, Mark wasn’t satisfied that he hid something so important away from him. So as a bit of revenge and to cheer up the last parts of his sorrowful self, he tickled him.

“Plehehease Mahahark, I’hihim hahahppy, seeheehee?!” He cried, rolling onto his side to escape the wiggling fingers.

“C’mon Cesar, you can take it.” Mark taunted, racking his nails into his now exposed side, whilst also keeping a hand on his ribs.

“NAHAHAHAHA!” He screamed, his body sending waves of ticklish shocks throughout his body. The church boy kicked his legs in mirth, unable to stand the relentless torment. Mark’s grin widened at his explosive reaction.

“What’s wrong, Torres? Too ticklish?” His hand on his ribs wiggled up to the crevice of his underarm, causing a screech to erupt from the teen below him. Cesar rolled onto his stomach in an attempt to protect his armpits, giggling uncontrollably with ruby red cheeks.

His friend snickered, “I knew you would do that~” and traced a finger down his back teasingly.

He didn’t however expect the teenager to arch his back so harshly, along with the flurry of giggles to spill his lips, ���Nohohoho nahahat thehehere…” he whined, hiding his face somewhere in his arms.

Mark chuckled at this and traced a finger down his back again, getting the same adorable reaction with not as much resistance. “What, here?” Mark cooed, tracing all over his back.

Cesar giggled uncontrollably and didn’t try to hold back all the silly noises he was making. He didn’t know his back was so sensitive but he couldn’t deny Mark’s hands on his back felt amazing. The gentle tracing from all the way from his lower back to his shoulder blades, caused the black-haired teen to snort and curl up.

Mark noticed he was getting a little too relaxed and reminded himself this was a punishment.

While still tracing his lower spine, getting it to shutter at the soft touch is when the elder teen took a deep breath and blew a raspberry right at the arch of his back. Cesar squealed and was thrown back into a flurry of thrashing and high-pitched laughter as raspberries were planted all over his back. He was still donning his suit and could somehow feel a pair of lips make contact with his clothed skin and still get it to tickle like hell.

“PLeHehehEase naHaHat ThahAhAT!” His laughter was littered with snorts and squeaks. Mark moved back up with a laugh, amused at how ruthless he’d been and how much he ruined his friend. Cesar was letting out residual giggles, covering his mouth with his hands with how much he was giggling.

Yet even he knew he wasn’t done yet. Cesar was still on his stomach, so that gave Mark just enough time to burrow his hands into his armpits. He violently flinched but resigned to his fate when he realized he had just trapped the hands in his most sensitive spot.

“Plehehease Mahark, I’m sensitihihive…” he hopes instilling a little bit of pity into his friend would work. Mark just laughed, “Yeah I can tell, super ticklish too.” And began to relentlessly dig, wiggle and knead the inner flesh of his underarms. His reaction was immediate, belting out precious yet hysterical cackles, practically melting the teenager’s heart.

“PLEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOH!” He screamed, lightly banging his head on the ground to cope with the insane amount of tingling in his armpits. His face was covered by his jet black hair yet Mark could imagine the joy filled smile underneath the layers and kept at it. He instantly knew he was reaching his limit when Cesar began to wheeze.

Mark immediately let go of him, unbinding his wrists as his friend gasped for air. “S-shihit, that was tohohorture…” he sighed. Nonetheless, Cesar was smiling and his friend couldn’t be happier to see him happier.

“You had fun, don’t lie~” he poked his side playfully, getting him to flinch. Now free from his grasp, he just flopped onto the floor and stared into the ceiling, euphoric and relaxed. Mark joined him and together they just laid on the ground. Soon enough, the both of them fell asleep in each other’s arms, comfortable in one another’s presence.

✿

✿

✿

✿

Fin~

[voidthesquished]

Fuck it, Jonah’s a ghost haunting an unaware Adam because why not

also feel free to ask about them in the asks thing lol

(shoutout to @adammurrays for the inspo)

[kinghermitcrab]

this isnt a TMC acc but I love Hail True Body AU. I love them

[mythicandco]

hmm. what would you write for a fic relating to any of the no evils (see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil) on the mandelapolice site

not totally sure what you mean but. nothing is worth the risk ammiright [proceeds to take a huge risk]

tw for mention of suicide (Mark's.)

Hey, Lieutenant Asshole Supreme. You know what day it is.

Guess what happened sixteen years ago today? I'll give you a fucking hint. Your bullshit got my brother killed. He was locked in his room for three days. He called for help and nobody fucking came. And then he shot himself because he was out of options. Thought you could serve to use the reminder, y'know? Wouldn't want you forgetting it already. I sure as fucking Hell haven't, Davis.

What was your stupid policy again? See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil? Some bullshit like that. You don't see the fucking body lying on the ground in front of you. You don't hear the screams coming through the line. And you sure as fuck don't say a fucking thing about any of it. I wish I could be as fucking distanced from this as you are. You know what it's like, missing someone every day and knowing that it's your fault?

Happy anniversary, Thatcher Davis.

- A grieving sister

[froggyworlds]

didn't mean for this to turn into TMC fanfiction but here we are. tw for dissociation, allusions to suicide/self harm, etc. basically all the canon-typical stuff

also somewhat spoilers for mandela catalyst!! because. because yeah.

A few weeks ago, you saw something at the gas station. One of the ones you see everywhere, even outside of the county, it wasn't locally-owned or anything.

It was just sitting there. It blinked at you.

Half-shadow.

Little sister, so afraid.

You go home and try to put it out of your mind.

There's a hole in your chest where a heart's supposed to be. It'd been gouged out one too many times by too many people you thought you could trust, friends and family members and the fucking police. You mentally check off a name on your checklist. One more bites the dust. Or the bullet, rather. Or whatever the hell it was. Not like you know.

Evelin doesn't know anything, either. That's the only new information you can gather. Evelin doesn't know anything. How does she not know anything? That idiot was her boyfriend.

Maybe she's hiding something. You two barely know each other, it's not out of the question. Not like you'd just go around handing out your trust to random people, either. But there's a feeling gnawing on you, on the place where your heart used to be, that there aren't a lot of potential allies left.

Something went off. A spark. A catalyst. It burns like bleach in the back of your throat, like snow freezing around your limbs, claws closing around your neck, like a bullet in the side of your head, a knife through your eye socket, a rope hastily tied into a noose in your hands, curling like tangled coils of television static in the back of your mind.

He's gone, he's gone, he's gone.

There aren't a lot of potential allies left.

But you can't trust anyone.

They're either deceptive monsters or they'll be stupid enough to get caught that it doesn't matter what their intentions were.

"Fuck," you heave from somewhere deep within, falling back onto your stupid, springy mattress and holding your face in your hands. Just for the sake of it, you say it again. Not like God's listening. If anything, He's probably dead. "Fuck."

Less than two minutes later, you're in your car - not the van, the van is missing, Adam and Jonah went out and died and didn't bother to bring it back - en route to one of your potential allies.

She worked with screens for long enough, maybe she's competent. You have to hope. She's better than your other singular alternative.

Alternate.

You want to throw up.

You stop on the side of the road and do just that, because who fucking cares anymore? Everything around you feels like it's tinged with greyscale static. Just pressing your hand against the car door feels like pressing your fingers against a television screen. You want to sink into it.

No, I don't. You pull back, shaking your head, trying to get rid of that feeling like cobwebs sticking your joints in place, latching to your tendons and gently tugging- it's only a tug, for now. You pretend you don't notice it and climb back into the driver's seat.

You don't have a GPS in this vehicle, and you don't have a paper map. But in case of an emergency you have a vague idea of where you're going and that's good enough for now.

Please still be alive. With how things are going - with Dave dead, and Jonah dead, and Adam probably dead - you wouldn't be entirely surprised if Evelin, too, had somehow miraculously found a way to die before you get there.

Maybe she'll just be gone. Maybe you'll wander in and the house will be empty and somehow strangely dusty and nothing will happen and you'll leave again. Maybe you'll never hear from anyone again. Maybe you'll see it there. Maybe it will follow you home. Maybe the solitude will kill you. Maybe there'll be blood splattered on the walls, maybe her body will be right there in the hallway. Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe this is going to change everything forever. Maybe it won't.

You're changed, too, you know.

Blood roars in your ears. It sounds like it's trying to tell you something, but the meanings are vague and the words are lost between the wails and screams and shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!

This is probably what M.A.D. is, right? This dizzy feeling, like your thoughts are being rattled around in a tight aluminum cage that grates painfully sharp on every soft edge. The inside of your brain feels like it's filled with papercuts. You grit your teeth and keep driving, half the mind given to calling ahead. If she doesn't pick up, it'll save you a lot of trouble and potentially an encounter.

Hands reach out from doorways and call your name. You close your eyes for a moment before realizing you're still on the road, and driving with your eyes closed is a surefire way to end up like almost everybody else.

"Adam's dead, isn't he."

It comes out of your mouth and you're half surprised when you say it. You were toying with the idea in your mind, the concept of Adam being dead, unsure if he really was or not. But it makes sense. No human would send you the kind of shit he had, not unless they were completely out of their mind and probably about to kill themselves anyways. Guess you made up your mind about that, then.

You're not out of your mind, are you?

You, Sarah Heathcliff, founder of the Bythorne Paranormal Society, younger sister of Mark Heathcliff, skipper of stones across the creek in your backyard when you were six, and a billion other titles of small things and big things and important things and-

Fuck. You are. You're losing it. That's just great. What a lovely way to end the week. Someone will ask you "Oh, how was your new year, Dear?" and you'll have to respond "It wasn't too great, actually, y'know. Two of my friends died and an alternate posing as one of them gave me M.A.D. Mmm, no, I'd say it wasn't too great at all."

You pull over on the side of the road, knots tying in your stomach as you grab your phone and, with a few jerky motions, punch in what you hope is the right phone number. The little buttons make a beep! noise with each press, so you know the thing's working. There's a little ringtone, and the call rings, and rings a little longer, and eventually rings through completely and goes to voicemail.

Maybe she is dead.

You toss the phone on the seat across from you in frustration. You can't get into the apartment building she lives in without someone opening the door, so there goes that entire-

Riing.

You freeze mid-thought. There's a heartbeat where you wonder if your ears are playing tricks on you, where you wonder if this is part of the symptoms of M.A.D. or if-

Riing.

Nope. Definitely not hearing things. You can't even stop yourself from thinking Thank God before fumbling for your phone again and answering. A female voice on the other end immediately pipes up.

"Hello?"

Your throat goes dry.

"Seriously. Did you call me or am I just going nuts?"

"I can't say whether you're losing your shit or not because I think the same thing's happening to me, but I did actually ring for you. This is Evelin, right?"

A pause. Some shuffling. Not suspicious at all, nope, of course not. When Evelin speaks again, her voice sounds a little strained. "Yep."

At that, there's another voice in the background. You can't quite make out what he's saying, but it's familiar, down to the little rasp at the end.

Anger, hot like melting wax, thrums through your veins. Is that Thatcher Davis? That pathetic, wet cat of an excuse for a police officer?! Is Evelin hanging out with the COPS now?!

"What the fuck was that?"

There's another pause from the other end. "Uh. Actually, I was just about to call you. Things are getting... heated."

"Heated," you echo, raising an eyebrow even while knowing full well she can't see your face. Heated, like the bubbling, plasticky smell of rubber tires on asphalt on a hot summer day? Heated, like the burning sensation in your eyeball you get directly after squeezing lemon into it? Heated, like accidentally putting your hand on a radiator? "What... kind of 'heated'?"

"Well, first of all, Adam's here."

You open your mouth to say something, but the moment you do the ability to form coherent speech completely evacuates your being. You close your mouth again with a click.

"He's- there's- I-I can't explain it, it's not- how fast can you get here?"

Your grip on the steering wheel tightens and you put your phone on speaker, dropping it in the seat next to you. Adam's dead. You decided that Adam was dead a few minutes ago. Whatever Evelin has over there, that is not her ex-boyfriend. "I'm already on my way."

"Unless you're on your way to the Mandela County Police Department, I don't actually think you are."

You're very, very lucky you hadn't started the car up again, because if you had you would've hit the brakes and sent yourself flying into the windshield. On second thought, maybe you would've been better off getting your skull sliced open with a giant piece of glass. "WHAT?! What are you doing there?"

"I was going to try for a job after Dave fired me, but the place was empty when I got here and an alternate tried to kill me and Thatcher kind of saved my ass and Dave died and- like I said, long story. Minor detail, I think everything we know is a lie. How far away are you?"

You could tell her you were going in the exact opposite direction, and won't be there for a few hours. You could just hang up now and never call her again. There are plenty of reasons not to get involved with this at all. There's the police. There's Adam, who's actually an alternate of Adam, who will probably definitely kill the only two allies you may have left in this godforsaken town.

You decide to listen to your intuition and go and see. The worst that happens is you die, and you're not entirely opposed to that outcome anymore.

[ghostly-bastard-artchive]

Heyyyyyyyy, long time no aaaaaart, have Cesar as na apology

[foster-the-moths]

I've been revamping Led Astray Au, decided to post Six's design!

(Huge thanks to @the-pipis , who co-owned the og au and gave me permission to revamp it!! :D)

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

The “Host”, Alt Cesar!

Drew this ref for HSH Alt Cesar a while ago and can FINALLY post it since the Prologue is out now-

[spookiifi]

SAY NO MORE!! GIVE ME THE GOODS PLEASE

Could I get general hcs for real Gabe with his s/o?? And how he starts to fall for them and how he feels internally?? Kkqmwkkwk IM STARVED FOR CONTENT

Food, for the stans simps.

A slight warning for stalker/obsession vibes.

--

So, Toonbriel/Real Gabe:

To be honest, it was more of a life threatening situation when you met him

He saved you and fell....hard. Metaphorically of course. In love

The guy's a hopeless romantic what can I say. He's legit an angel, maybe cherub.

The dude is a gift giver, too. So expect a lot of affection from him!

Now for Archangel Gabriel:

You two sorta met by accident. By accident, I mean you had no reaction towards an alternate in your house…which both interested and slightly irritated him.

He can deny it all he wants, but something about you just attracted the archangel.

Then, confusion. He was meant to destroy humans, not love them! And why weren’t you afraid?

But everytime you said hello or “good morning/evening” he couldn’t help genuinely smile.

It felt as if you were making him mad. It wasn’t possible since he created the illness. Still, he got weak in the knees every time he visited you.

For now, he’d keep a close eye on you. Maybe even send some alternates to simply watch from afar.

--

[l1ght-n1ghts]

Racing toward the mailbox With a letter in your hand But the postman's gone away, and you begin to understand That you're no hero to this story You're just another wretched pawn Who bought his tickets to the sideshow And then slept through the alarm

SOMETIMES - NICK LUTSKO

(Link for fic this art is based on below read more)

New chapter posts tomorrow on Sunday!