#fic: if it all ends tonight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jacobbseedd · 2 months

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Chapter 1: A Fresh Start

Summary: Michaela and her family move to Hope for a new beginning, unaware that a religious cult has taken over.

Warnings: language, Shooting, guns, murder

Word count: 2184

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The last set of palm trees passed as they entered the highway heading for Montana. Michaela stared at the sign You are now leaving California, as they passed by it and she felt a wave of sadness at the fact. California was home to her and it has been for quite some time, her mom and dad had gotten married in Cali and she met some good people that were her friends. She wished she didn’t have to go and she begged for them to let her stay. She was old enough, but her dad Martinez wouldn’t allow it.

Martinez claimed he had a new job offer in Montana and it was paying a lot better than in California. Michaela didn’t believe that one bit- he made lots of money in California owning his businesses and well that other thing. She didn’t like the fact her dad was in the mafia, her and her mom knew sooner or later if he didn’t get out it would get him killed. He’s not dead or anything- he got out before anything bad happened to him. Nobody would ever come for him for leaving- half the state was afraid of him anyway.

Her light brown eyes drifted to her brother, Terrell, he was listening to music on his headphones and watching a video on the other phone he had. He had several phones for different uses and she didn’t want to know what they were for, lord knows the shit he gets into on his personal phone. Terrell was older than her - she was only twenty-nine, he is thirty- three.

They were never close but they still stuck their necks out for each other, mostly her sticking for him when he snuck out to meet random girls in the middle of the night. She wasn’t exactly the perfect child either, she was rebellious. She loved partying when she was a teen- she hated her dad for leaving them for another family. He never spoke about them much and never showed any pictures, Stephanie couldn’t bear the thought of a divorce so she stuck with him despite his tendencies to leave.

“Earth to Kay,” A deep voice spoke, shoving her a bit.

She escaped her thoughts when she hit her head on the window- she glanced at her brother and he pointed at the large field of horses. Michaela rolled down her window in amazement- she’s always wanted a horse but how could they own one in the city. No matter how much she told herself that she’d miss living in California, maybe Montana would open new opportunities for her and she could convince them to let her own a horse.

She knew how to ride one, Martinez showed her one evening on his brothers farm- god how she missed living on a ranch. It was a dream she had and bottled up when they moved back to Cali. Owning horses wouldn’t be easy and she knew the responsibility it would take, but she was up for a challenge.

“Gosh, it’s beautiful.” Stephanie muttered- staring at the mountains.

Welcome To WhiteTail State Park

The large sign let them know they were here and it was absolutely amazing. Michaela was excited to explore the mountains and take pictures of the wolves and other wildlife in the area. They pulled into the dirt road that led to the house- the name of the property Martinez had bought was Wolf Lodgings and it came with a section of the forest.

The Cabin was large and had multiple rooms. It was also by a lake which Michaela was happy about- she was thrilled to see the bedrooms because the pictures told her nothing. When the cabin came into view- they all stared in amazement and the pictures definitely didn’t do it justice, it had two large porches with railings made from a tree. Around the closer part of the house were stone rocks that you could step on to get to the house- along with a large tree in the center of a garden.

On the outside of the house bright lanterns hung in different spots and made the house really stand out- a string of fairy lights was dangling from the porch roof- and it was elegant. Michaela went inside first while the men and Stephanie grabbed their bags, the inside was nothing compared to the pictures but better. The inside was like a cabin should look- with all of the homey decorations you could ask for. Bear pictures, wolf pictures, deer statues all hung on the walls and small figurines of animals sat on the shelves.

In the living room was a huge fireplace and tv on the wall behind it, the couch was huge with a small wolf throw blanket which she absolutely loved. She couldn’t believe they actually lived here and it was all making her super excited, she would miss California but I think she could work her way up to calling this home. The rest of the family entered and began looking around- Michaela went upstairs and had already picked her room out. Inside the room, was an A frame roof- with lights hanging from the ceiling. Two large red mandala rugs sat on the floor and beside two small windows sat a large bed- with a red flannel bed set and two bear pillows. She had extra room to put stuff she’d like and she was excited about that. The bathroom that came with her bedroom was bad either, stone shower walls and flooring and a large wooden sink- with lights hanging from the ceiling as well. For the tub, they have a wolf shower curtain hanging from the pole.

The house was worth every penny that Martinez put into it, he wanted what was best for his family and Montana would be a great start at that. Being here felt nice, the outdoors made her feel at home and safe and that was odd because wildlife could easily kill you. She wasn’t worried about it, she loved the place already.

Her nostrils were filled with her moms tacos and she went down the stairs to see them in the kitchen cooking. It was a large kitchen, Stephanie had always wanted a larger kitchen where she could move around and nobody would be in her way. Terrell came in and placed Michaela’s white snake on her shoulder- “keep that creepy little thing off my bag.” He shrieked and went upstairs to put his stuff away.

She held her snake, Viper, in her hand. Despite his name, he was friendly and never tried biting her or anyone else in the house. She had Viper and Diablo Bear- which was a black German shepherd her parents got her for Christmas last year. He’s hardly a puppy but has the mentality of a puppy, despite the puppy demeanor Diablo could get mean when he wanted. He would always protect her from any harm that might occur.

They sat down at the large island table and began eating Stephanie’s tacos, they were delicious and smelled even better. She took a drink of her soda and then sat the fan back down- biting into another taco. They had a hard taco and then a burrito- which was delicious. Stephanie always made tacos because Martinez hated making them - he never could fold the burrito perfectly like Stephanie could.

After dinner, Michaela went upstairs to shower and she wanted to get a good night's rest because in the morning she was going to explore the woods and take Diablo for a bit. She knew he didn’t like being cooped up all day and he loved to run outside - sometimes he’d stay out all night. The good thing about this cabin is it has a doggy door that automatically opens and locks when the dog enters or goes. It recognizes Diablo and only opens for him so no critters get inside and rummage through the place. It also has an alarming system in case it fails that alerts if something else is coming through- it’s super cool.

She pulled the covers down and got in the bed which was more comfortable than she expected. Diablo lied beside her and cuddled to her as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The sun shining on her face and the cool breeze blowing through the window woke her up as she squinted from the sunlight. It was early, practically 6am and nobody else would be up, maybe Stephanie since she runs about this time. Michaela got out of bed and went downstairs to feed Diablo and give him some water- she needed to take a small bowl upstairs for him. Nobody was up, not even Stephanie- her and Martinez probably stayed up most of the night talking about things. After she fed her dog and grabbed a granola bar - she headed out down the trail.

Inside the woods seemed peaceful in the early morning hours, the animals were just waking and everything wasn’t chaotic. She turned down another trail and began walking it, Diablo right on her feet. He was anxious about something which was odd - he loved the woods. When they turned a corner Michaela bumped into someone running and she fell to the ground.

“What the fuck? Could you watch-“ She glanced up at the blue eyes gazing down at her. A tall, red haired man stood in front of her with a T-shirt and sweats on- he had scars on his arms and some on his face. She wanted to reach out and touch him but instead she stood to her feet dusting off her butt. She noticed the large white wolf behind him and she went to pet him.

“He doesn’t like-“

Michaela bent down in the wolf's face and began petting him and he didn’t seem to mind her at all- he smelled like he had been running for miles and his fur was dirty and a little matted. She cleared her throat - glancing back at the man.

“He seems friendly enough-“ she remarked, staring into his blue eyes- putting her hands on her hips.

She extended her hand- “Michaela. We just moved here.”

He hesitated to shake her hand and when he did- his hand was hot and sweaty and she could tell his touch was rough,” Jacob.”

“Nice to meet up Jacob,” She smiled- watching as Diablo sniffed the wolf. She hoped he was friendly to actual dogs but the way he was acting seemed calm enough.

Michaela stared at Jacob and she felt like she had seen him before on the way in- there was a picture on the sign to the cabin and it was him. He was pointing and above it said only you, she was curious about it and wanted to ask. But she stayed silent due to the expression on his face- maybe he was mad that she ran into him. Technically, he ran into her.

There was something about him that was interesting and she felt a slight attraction towards the man that she just met. It was almost as if he was looking for her or something. Or maybe she was delusional and not thinking straight. She noticed the tattoo of a symbol on his back when he pulled his shirt off to white the sweat from his forehead- he must have been running for a while. By the way he looked, she guessed he was part of a militia.

“What’s that?” She referred to the tattoo, staring as she traced it unaware of what she was doing. He didn’t seem to mind what she was doing and he actually sighed like he liked it.

“You heard of Eden’s Gate, better known as the Project of Eden?”

“I mean I thought I heard it on the news- something about a religious cult?”

“That’s us. My brother runs the cult, I’m one of his Heralds. I’m head of security and train the cult.” He replied, shifting his footing.

“Really? Mind if I come to a training session?” She asked, hoping he’d say yes.

He stared into her light brown eyes before slowly nodding, “I’ll arrange it. Come to the stone ridge chalet anytime you want- it’s on a map.” He stated- trudging past her and off on his run. She watched him turn a corner and she sighed. She was super excited to see him again, something about him pulled her in.

She continued down her trail and when she turned a corner she heard a group shouting and chanting something, she hid behind a log with Diablo and she just watched as two men in large trench coats circled a woman. She didn’t know what they were doing or what they were going to do to her, she watched one of them pull out a gun and she gasped as they shot the woman in the head- when the man turned to face her way from hearing her gasp, she recognized the large black symbol on his shirt. He was a part of Eden’s Gate, and so was Jacob.

#fic: if it all ends tonight #redid it and also the cover photo- made it seem more like the story.

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jtl-fics · 11 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 21

“What made you think taking on a mafia hitman was a good idea?” Andrew asks as he and FF were positioning themselves the best the could for an ambush on Romero.

Since, they APPARENTLY had time to talk.

Romero had gotten the text Andrew had sent him and INSTEAD of coming out right away to progress the whole SCHEME to kidnap and murder Andrew’s Junkie like any sensible goon Romero went to the BAR. Romero went to the Bar to get him and Jackson a round of CELEBRATORY drinks. Romero is still there at the bar waiting to be served by an INCREDIBLY nervous Roland if the number of exclamation marks and puking emojis is to be believed.

What the FUCK is there to celebrate?

These two idiots want to kidnap NEIL and so far the only thing Romero knows (thinks) that they’ve caught are two people that Neil would come for but even in Andrew’s text he’d been clear that he needed help getting ‘The boyfriend and the new friend’ to talk let alone getting them to call ‘The Wesninski Brat’ out. Andrew had hated typing the name in reference to Neil but it was the only thing the two ever referred to him as in their chats.

Is it some insane mental game that Romero thought he and Jackson were going to play on Andrew and Smith? Toasting to their torture so they’d give up Neil? Who knows.

He realizes that FF hasn’t answered him, his eyes focused on the door when Andrew’s thoughts had drifted. A reliable guy, steady in a pinch, and focused like most the others weren’t.

(Andrew does not know that FF is thinking about how one would go about becoming a Mafia Hitman. What is that career path like? Do they show up at job fairs? Do you get a job as a short order cook at a business that acts as a front and see to much but you’re also the only one that knows the secret spaghetti recipe the boss likes so you have to sign yourself to the family? Are you out doing your own freelance crime and someone higher up sees your work one day and literally head hunts you? Is it like in Saw where you survive an ordeal and then-)

“Smith?” Andrew draws FF’s attention away from the door.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea at any point.” FF says and Andrew is surprised by the admission and is more surprised by the twist of FF’s lips into a frown, “I just did what I thought I needed to do.” He adds.

(Andrew does not know that the twist of FF’s lips has more to do with the fact that he is realizing that Romero likely STILL has not washed his hands. Romero hasn’t washed his hands and he is going to hand Jackson a DRINK with those hands. Ugh. Honestly a contract killer AND someone who doesn’t wash his hands? Who RAISED him? What does his grandma think of this? FF hopes she’s disappointed in him.)

“You thought you needed to lure a hitman into an alley?” Andrew asks because the plan is stupid even if so far it has worked out for FF. The fact that Romero hadn’t just come out when he sent Jackson the signal is only due to FF’s good luck and their stupidity.

“I didn’t have a lot of time to think up anything more than the first plan I thought of. I saw him looking at Nicky on the dance floor.” FF says with another twist of his lips as he self-consciously rubbed at his cheek. It’s never fun to have someone who has time to pick apart a plan that you barely had time to form. Andrew can understand the irritation and is glad that FF isn’t lashing out at him for it.

(Andrew does not know that FF is not irritated he is just remembering that he had held up his broken toilet bowl phone to his face to pretend call Captain Neil. He’s contemplating asking if Andrew maybe possibly has a wet wipe? Actually the murder van probably has bleach to clean up evidence, maybe he can just dip his face in there for like a minute.)

“Don’t use a plan where you martyr yourself. I already have to deal with Neil’s bullshit tendencies.” Andrew says instead of thanking him. “You should have just called me.” He says.

FF just holds up his phone, “Dropped into a club toilet. Completely unusable.” He says and yeah that makes sense. FF would have probably just texted Andrew but coming out and seeing a hitman going after Nicky probably made it impossible for the freshman to go get help without drawing all the attention to himself first if he wanted to make sure Nicky stayed safe.

Still.

“You dropped it into a toilet? You haven’t even had anything tonight.” He says because that clumsiness is not something he expects from FF.

“You try taking a pee next to someone on the FBI’s most wanted list and see how dry your palms remain when he’s talking about grabbing one of Captain Neil’s friends to lure him out.” He says with a brow raised.

That’s fair.

He figures that Romero hadn’t even noticed FF standing there. FF was incredibly good at just making himself unnoticeable (to Andrew’s occasional great annoyance and to Kevin’s great desire to study him for Exy related purposes).

“You recognized him?” He asks.

FF’s gaze slides to him, “I looked up a lot about the Foxes after I signed.” FF answers before his gaze slides back to the door. Roland had just texted Andrew that he’s getting Romero’s drinks ready (Two bud lites. Those are the celebratory drinks he waited for?? Embarrassing.) “I really looked up to Captain Neil. So, I read a lot more about him than anyone else.” FF admits but the fact that FF looked up to Neil was not in any way shape or form a secret.

FF was the only one who was ALWAYS paying attention to whatever Neil was saying and never argued with it. Even Andrew tended to just get lost in the sound of Neil’s voice when he’s going over Exy plays and not actually listen to the plan. FF’s eyes were always right on Neil and his actions on the court showed that he had been paying attention and knew what he was doing. Kevin also listened but he tended to fight Neil on the finer details of plays, strategy or anything else. FF was the one who would just nod and do his part in whatever possible play Neil had broken down for them.

FF was also categorically incapable of referring to Neil as anything other than Captain Neil.

Neil had bristled early on at it. He had thought it was a mocking title, something FF was saying to rile him up because that’s what Freshman Foxes did. That’s what Freshman Foxes always do. FF slid into the team without a whisper of rebellion and it hadn’t taken long to realize that FF was using the title with sincerity even if his monotone did not perfectly convey that.

It’d been that sincerity and that ease that had FF be the only option he’d considered when Bee said he should consider expanding his friend pool.

So if FF looked a little deeper into Neil’s past and sees Neil’s part in it as something to respect, something to admire?

Well, he personally thought he always had great taste in people. (He ignores the voice in his head that sounds like Nicky complaining about Kevin still not knowing German despite it being the family language.)

“You sure you don’t want one of my knives or the knife Jackson had?” It was pretty big and Andrew didn’t think it would work well with his general style but maybe FF could use it somehow. He was uneasy that FF was going into this fight unarmed. FF still hadn’t talked about how he’d taken out Jackson when the man had a knife like that.

“Do I look like Crocodile Dundee to you?” FF asks with a raised eyebrow and Andrew has to pause a moment for the movie to load into his brain before he offers an amused quirk of his own lips.

FF is a funny guy.

His phone dings. “He’s on his way.”

***

Aside from thinking about how nice the conversation he was having with his friend Andrew (his friend! His friend Andrew! God how is he going to admit to Gran that Andrew was never planning on stabbing him? She threatened to come over and square off with the ‘mean young man’ bullying him. He’s gotta go grab the makings for a secondary pie to even start to make up for this. Maybe Andrew would prefer a cobbler? He should ask his friend his preferences.) he was thinking about how he really wished they hadn’t had a cut away from Gracie Hart showing all the various forms of self defense she knows in the movie.

He had no idea if he could do a repeat performance of S.I.N.G. with Romero.

It’d be nice to have a few more things in his repertoire because all he has is striking Romero with the heel of his hand in the nose, getting grabbed from behind to throw him over his shoulder (which what if Romero is shorter than him? How will THAT work. Gracie Hart guide my steps!), and of course S.I.N.G.

If he survives this he might write a letter to the writer.

The door opens and honestly FF and Andrew agreed that surprise and speed were going to be their best weapons. The two of them go in for a full body tackle but Romero must just be a higher class goon than Jackson was since he manages to body them away. The door shuts which is mostly what they wanted anyways. Romero can’t go back in and grab someone to use as a shield.

He sees Andrew pull out his knives and now FF realizes that any level of threatening Andrew had done before must have mostly been in jest or just as intimidation. When Andrew wants to stab someone it’s obvious that he’s aiming to stab them.

Romero manages to parry Andrew’s first stab with a move that FF had seen on the ‘how to handle someone coming at you with a knife’ videos. FF sees Romero go in to bash one of the Bud Lite bottles over Andrew’s head so he launches his water bottle at Romero’s hand. The bottle falls and shatters harmlessly on the ground.

He kicks Romero’s other hand since the water bottle bought him time to get close. “You fucking brat!” Romero hisses.

He sees Romero reaching for something at the same time Andrew is going in for the second round of stabbing. Romero dodges out of the way but FF can see what might actually for real be an entire gun concealed in his jacket.

He can see Romero going for it. Sees the same smile on his face he’d seen inside as his hand wraps around the handle.

FF doesn’t think.

FF doesn’t think because if he does he’ll freeze.

So FF acts.

“Gun!” He yells and runs full force tackling Romero as hard as he can but unfortunately he tackles Romero into Andrew.

The three of them grapple on the ground. It’s hard to keep track of what limb is who’s and he’s pretty sure he’s accidentally hit Andrew a few times instead of Romero but he’s also pretty sure that Andrew punched him in the stomach so he thinks they’re equal. Finally FF gets a hand on the gun that Romero had been trying to get the safety off of and he knocks it out of Romero’s hand. “You kids will-“

Romero doesn’t get to say anything else because Andrew manages to land a punch right to his jaw that has Romero go limp under the two of them. They look at one another and Andrew manages to pull the handcuffs they’d purloined out of the Van while they were waiting off of the belt loop they were hooked onto and gets them around Romero’s wrists.

They stare down at the second unconscious man on the FBI’s most wanted list in the alley.

Then they roll off of him and onto their backs. Both of them wheezing from a combination of exertion, adrenaline, and (at least in FF’s case) a fair amount of pain (Christ Andrew packs a PUNCH his stomach is already sensitive. It’s a miracle that punch hadn’t made him puke.)

“That was…so stupid.” Andrew pants.

“Yeah probably.” FF admits.

They lay there for about a minute and FF thinks that maybe someone will need to carry him because his stomach is KILLING HIM with all this.

“Alright let’s-“

Andrew is sitting up and looking at him when he stops talking.

FF doesn’t really know what the issue is but starts to sit up, “Don’t you DARE.” Andrew hisses and FF finds himself being pushed back down to the ground to lay flat. “Don’t move Smith.” He demands and is pulling his phone out of his pocket as he keeps a hand on FF’s shoulder.

FF doesn’t really understand what’s got Andrew so upset all the sudden. “Andrew, what’s-“ he tries to sit up again. Is there a third person and Andrew wants him to keep down? There’s not really cover here they should move towards the dumpster maybe?

“Smith, I told you to not move.” Andrew hisses before whoever he’s calling seems to pick up. “I need police and an ambulance. We’re at Eden’s Twilight in the back alley.” He looks to FF, “What’s your blood type?” He asks.

FF has NO idea.

“I don’t know.” He answers and Andrew makes a disgusted sound. “Andrew, what’s-“

Then he sees it.

He doesn’t quite get how he missed it before now.

“Huh.” He hears himself say.

That’s Andrew’s knife handle sticking out of his stomach.

It appears that Andrew Minyard may have stabbed him in the stomach.

“Well, that’s about what I expected.” He says and lets his head rest against the pavement.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

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The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

#Fluent Freshman AU #He was RIGHT all along.#The Cassandra of Anxiety #He just kind of had no idea that it would be an accident #Vote now on FF's blood type #I will just say this now that this is not going to be a story where FF dies and Andrew's upset #This is me thinking that this is kind of a funny way for this night to end considering everything #If FF had a phone he would absolutely text his gran on the ambulance ride over #FF: SO I WAS BOTH COMPLETELY WRONG AND RIGHT #FF: Andrew wants to be my friend but due to bizarre circumstances he sure did accidentally stab me tonight #FF: BTW do YOU know my bloodtype? Because the nice EMT lady keeps asking me if I'm sure I don't know.#But FF doesn't have a phone so maybe he drifts a lil closer to the afterlife for a comedic reunion with great gran #GG: You're going to be okay. There's no way you'll die in a fight against a man who doesn't wash his hands #FF: I'm scared to check the state of his skin behind his ears.#GG: Exactly #AFTG #AFTG Fic #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #My Fic #Let's see if you all can find all the various lil jokes that I've made knowing that THIS #THIS is how this night was always gonna end for FF #I've gotten a kick out of putting them in #FF - Pt.21

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johnslittlespoon · 10 days

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it's almost time. when? idk, when i stop being a coward LOL

#would be kinda funny if i waited to post it on 4/20 like haha happy bday curt *lights blunt*#genuinely can't bring myself to hit post tho been staring at it all day #it's so much scarier than posting a oneshot i want to do this right and i want to do the way i see them in my head justice #posting my writing never gets less nervewracking for me #like oh hello strangers and friends i just poured my heart out onto a page and now i'm offering it up with shaking hands #and i'm trying very hard to be normal about it because it's not that deep but also i care very much SJDGJK #but i think i'll post it before tonight i just feel NAUSEOUS #still need to write an end note anyway #i'm fr just yapping to stall atp LMAO #dog coded bucky fic #johnslittlespoon yaps #i'm also like what if it doesn't live up to expectations. LIKE YEAH WHAT IF. the world goes on. but i will be so hard on myself bruh

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 20 days

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ok so i’m technically done w the fic but :’3 i feel very… unsure…. abt it…….. so i think i might get some sleep for now and look over it properly tmrw before posting……

next week i’ll post a fic early though!!!!! mindless sugu hurt/comfort time >:3

#rem if you see this i’m hugging you so tightly ily T—T #i think i’m so wired to the idea that i can only post on weekends that i . Forget. that i’m physically capable of waiting a day #you rlly snapped me out of it like actually. the effect my mutuals have on me needs to be studied i think #but aaaaa i just. really need to get better at taking my time with fics </3 #usually i end up writing them all under the span of like. a day/night. which is very bad and the fics deserve better #hhh but i do feel very bad abt not writing much lately :((( next week it’ll just be a selfindulgent argument fic phdjddhdh #anyway anyway…. to whoever sees this. i hope you have the sweetest dreams tonight!!#mwah mwah mwah!!!!#ari noises ✩

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thychesters · 1 year

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Can you keep a secret? Luffy asks him one of the first nights they’re out at sea, just the two of them and their aimless wandering toward the Grand Line and a crew that doesn’t yet exist beyond the two of them. Zoro rolls his head from where it rests on his arms, wrist and knuckles digging into the wood beneath them. Luffy blinks back at him in the dark, straw hat pillowed on his chest and no longer awaiting a response. It’s okay, sometimes I can’t either.

Depends on what it is, I guess, Zoro says, If it’s not my business I don’t want any part in it. But it’s also not my secret to tell.

He shrugs, about to turn away again, but there’s a hesitation in breaking Luffy’s gaze, something powerful in it that leaves him feeling as if he’s been exposed down to his very core, and all Luffy does is blink at him and yawn.

‘M not a very good liar, Luffy tells him after he’s rolled back away from him to watch the night sky spread out above them like spilt ink. Would you ever lie to me?

Zoro’s tongue is heavy with copper and salt before he swallows. Depends, again, he thinks, could you lie to me? He doesn’t lie, doesn’t have any reason to, has never favored nor respected it to begin with. And yet, he says, Would it keep you safe?

Luffy turns to face him, nails scratching along the straw and says, Does it ever?

He thinks, it could, thinks, I don’t know, thinks, let’s hope we never find out.

Can you keep a secret? and a ghost whispers into the shell of his ear and says you must.

And Zoro says, no, I don’t think so.

#zolu #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #one piece #two dudes .... chilling in a dinghy two inches apart because there's no room #you know how sometimes there are those little white lies that you tell because you think they'll protect someone #but then they build up and reach a head and the truth comes spilling out and it only hurts people? who did it protect then?#i'm about to start the skypiea arc tonight (butterfly in the skyyyy)#and i'm grumpy because i have at least 3 fic ideas i need to wait to finish and watch more in order to properly execute #so instead here's another little post again from zoro's pov in the east blue #need to write more from luffy's pov. want to give that lil rubber bastard a crisis of his own #in the meantime i have another fic idea for all of the straw hats so maybe i'll work on that #depending on how long it ends up we'll see if it ends up on here or ao3 #what a time to be alive!#kate writes #**

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froggyworlds · 1 year

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listen listen ok I was going to put something menacing or lyric-y but every lyric I looked at fits every voice belongs to you and I can't put them all so just take this before I explode

@mustangsart here's one of the fics I promised/alluded to I can't remember which

tw for minor self-harm, guns, and a moment of contemplated/mentioned suicide. plus other typical htb-related content warnings (ask if you want smth tagged tell me and I'll add it!)

If Mark had been holding anything a few moments ago, it would've dropped to the floor by now. His hands shook at his sides, and the trembling spread up his arms to his chest and his legs and for a few moments he was certain he was going to fall over.

He didn't, though he did stumble back a step. Somehow he even found it in himself to remember to breathe in a wheezy, gasping inhale that made his lungs ache and his throat go dry. The man's hands flew almost subconsciously to his waistband, and he watched as a pair of eyes followed them with a spark of- no. Stop it. Don't do that.

¬ Don't shoot me, Mark. ¬

Mark's fingers twitched, an itchy, clawing feeling tugging on the threads in the back of his mind like a kitten kneading a wool blanket. His hand froze, but didn't fall back into place at his side.

Standing across from him, within arm's reach, as far away as anything had ever been, was-

It was-

God, it was-

"F-fuck," Mark stammered, and took another step back.

The thing that looked like Cesar didn't move in kind. Besides the flicker of its eyes, it didn't even seem like it was breathing. As much as Mark was trying to avoid looking at its eyes, the two kept locking gazes.

He- it. It wasn't Cesar. It wasn't Cesar. It's not him. It's not him. Stop thinking it is. It's not what you think-

It looked exactly the same as it had last time Mark had seen it, and the last time Mark had seen it was three years ago. Phantom pain echoed across his scars, and the man winced at the memory of a halo of glass. But everything was the same- the Cesar standing before him was as frozen in time as the one in the photograph weighing heavy in his left breast pocket.

For the first time since its appearance, the alternate moved. It reached up and, in a gesture that seemed all-too-painfully human, drew its hand back in again hesitatingly. Its brow furrowed in what could almost be mistaken for worry.

"Mark, you- you're crying."

As they say, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

Mark felt his legs buckle anyways. Call him a fool.

The man let out a sob and bit down on his left forefinger- hard. It didn't do much to stifle the sound, and something tasted like crimson now, but it gave him something to focus on besides-

"Mark! Are you okay?"

I think I'm going to throw up, was going to be his response, but unfortunately all Mark could muster in response was another half-choked sob, and he jerked away from the hand that reached out for him even when every part of him wanted nothing more than to cry into his friend's arms until his sleeves were soaked and for them to go home and pretend like nothing bad had ever happened in their lives, even if only for a few hours.

After a second, a word escaped his throat: "No." It evidently stung, because Cesar the alternate recoiled and a pang of something heavy struck through Mark's heart that he immediately grabbed and tossed away. This wasn't Cesar.

"You're a monster - a fucking thing. My best friend is dead and you fucking killed him!"

Sweat-slick hands gripping the handle of a gun. The click a millisecond before the bang.

“You’re not him. You’re not Cesar. You aren’t- I didn’t shoot- You’re not him.”

No matter how broken its expression looked. No matter how tired and terrified Mark was.

"I'm sorry. Mark, I'm so, so sorry."

¬ I'm sorry. It's complicated. ¬

Memories rang like church bells in his ears. Half-human shrieks. Half-human.

"It hurts, Mark. It hurts."

Mark couldn't fucking do this.

He pulled out his gun before he could think and for a second the world teetered. Overwhelming déjà-vu coursed through him as he gripped the weapon, sweaty palms and safety off and maybe it would be so, so easy to turn it around and forget all of this ever-

Mark dropped the gun. Clicked the safety back on and nudged it away. He could feel Cesar's eyes on him the whole time, noticed the way he inched away slightly and still hadn't come back yet.

"Fuck." Mark looked up, expression pulled tight and the shakiness of earlier suddenly gone in favor of an all-consuming exhaustion. Cesar still looked like he was eighteen. He still looked exactly as he had the day at the church. Mark dragged a hand down the side of his face. "Fucking Hell, Cesar."

The alternate's expression brightened, a glimmer of hope-but-not-daring-to-hope in his eyes. Mark stopped him with a slightly stiff wave and brought his hands in front of him to pick at his cuticles. The sidewalk was cold and slightly damp from the rain, and Mark pushed himself to his feet, brushing himself off and watching as Cesar did the same.

"I can't-" He sucked in a breath. The air reeked of petrichor. "I don't... know. How or why you're here." He motioned to the alternate and something zipped up his spine. The man shivered and adjusted his jacket, doing his best to ignore the dry, hollow coldness that momentarily jabbed his thoughts. "And I can't just- forgive what happened."

Three years since then. That's a fucking lifetime. It feels like yesterday.

Cesar thought for a beat, and Mark did his best not to do a double-take on how much it really did look like him.

¬ I was alone. That whole time. I missed you. ¬

And in words: "I understand."

Mark bit his lower lip, but not enough that he could taste blood. "We'll work on it, okay?" He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. "We should go home. I'm exhausted." The man paused for any sign of a change, a sudden dark smile or something or anything one would usually expect from an alternate. He wasn't sure how to feel about the pang of hope in his chest when there was none, just an almost vaguely relieved look from the other.

Mark let out a yelp, suddenly finding himself wrapped in a pair of arms that ended in hands that held onto the fabric of his jacket like a lifeline. It was a hug.

Oh, it was a hug.

Mark held on in return, almost instinctively. Cesar felt oddly small now, but still familiar enough to imagine just for a second that things were normal. He wasn't sure if either of them would be able to let go.

#this is a first draft like everything else and listen I was half-possessed writing this probably #also I totallywasn't projecting how shaky I am rn onto mark that's ridiculous lol why would you suggest such a thing #this has been floating in my brain since the end of chapter six so uh. here's me finally getting the courage to just write it already #also thank you to everyone who contributed to the poll lol #I refuse to apologize for any damage this caused. I hope the ending made up for it at least somewhat. I guess it's hurt/comfort tonight #mark refuses to go through all of that again I think. and can we blame him #hail true body au #mark heathcliff #cesar torres #the mandela catalogue au #the mandela catalogue fic #the mandela catalogue #mythic's drabbles #tmc au #tw suicide mention #tw guns #tw self harm #¬ Two have become one. ¬#¬ You won't leave me again. Right? ¬#:)

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moon-jellie · 11 months

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Tomgreg below the cut. Is this anything

The air crackles between them for a moment. Tom clocks the buglike stutter of Greg's eyelashes before Greg descends suddenly, collapsing on the ottoman beneath him. From a seated position he comes up to Tom's chest.

"What's the matter?" coos Tom, keeping it cool but distantly ready to act if Greg should actually need something.

"I just got really dizzy all of a sudden," says Greg, shaking his head slowly, staring blankly at the space in front of him.

Tom thinks of the proximity, the wording of the moment before. "Oh, Greg," he tsks, reaching a hand down to lift Greg's chin with a hooked finger. "Dizzy? What's the matter with you?"

Greg's eyes are big and round, and his face is pliable as Tom adjusts his hand to clutch Greg's chin between thumb and forefinger. "I don't--I don't know--"

Tom turns Greg's head to the left, then to the right, appraisingly. "You don't look pale. A little flushed, maybe." He lets his voice lilt in just the way he starts being unable to explain when he's talking to Greg like this. Something warm uncoils in his stomach when Greg tries to break eye contact, glancing bashfully downward. It isn't any movement of his head, but when Tom jerks Greg's chin upward, Greg's eyes follow, and the thing in Tom's stomach clenches.

"Do you feel hot, Greg?" Tom drawls, and the halted movement of Greg's throat as he tries to swallow is like a magnet to Tom's core. Hand still holding Greg's face, he kneels, ignoring the way his knees crack on the way down.

Tom notes with interest that Greg is actually sweating, the sick dog, a clear sheen on his forehead betraying that something, certainly, has strayed from the typical Hirsch homeostasis. Tom raises his other hand from the floor to inspect, then finds he needs the balance and settles it instead neatly beside Greg's thigh on the ottoman, bracing himself and Greg both. Slowly, Tom draws his hand from Greg's chin, skirts up the side of his face, and lays it with a softness just short of condescending on Greg's temple. He brushes a thumb over Greg's forehead and vaguely processes that from this position, he is the one looking up at Greg now.

"Greg," he says, dragging the syllable out with all the viscosity of cough syrup. "You're not coming down with something, are you? Sick dog," he adds, finding his own thoughts worth echoing out loud.

Greg halts for a moment, and it's as if his full body stutters, eyes halfway between open and closed, body halfway between fight and flight and, if the fluttering in his neck and the flush riding its way high onto his cheeks is anything to go by, a secret third thing. When he remembers his autonomy, he tries to shake his head again. "No, I don't think it's that--"

"Then what is it, Greg?" Tom purrs, not tuned into much beyond the yawning warmth in the base of his stomach, twisting itself into something pointed and pleasurable, and the curve of Greg's cheekbone beneath his palm.

Greg tries to swallow again, and Tom hears the click of his dry tongue against the roof of his mouth. He fails to say anything that Tom can interpret as words.

Boldly, houndishly, Tom leans in. Greg's ear is thin and delicate beneath his lips. "Could it be that you're aroused?"

Greg pushes Tom away, wrapping a hand around Tom's forearm, disguising what Tom swears is a shiver. "Tom, I don't think we should be--" He seems to wait for Tom to cut him off, floundering with a lack of words after his initial reaction.

#my fic #tomgreg #tomgreg fic #wrote this at rehearsal tonight lmao #idk where it comes from or where it goes it's kind of a floating middle piece #and I'm not a huge fan of what tom says at the end but oh well tis all one

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