#leah writes sometimes

[thegreenmetblue]

📖 Leah’s tumblr fics masterlist 📖

link to all masterlists

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The Heart Wants What It Wants // ao3

When peter got that e-mail saying he was invited to an engagement party, he didn’t imagine it would be from the man he’s been having an affair with for 5 months. (wc : 9’669)

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Who Is He ? (Who I Am ?) // ao3

When Tony introduces Harley to Peter, it does not really end up with both of the boys becoming best friends. But it's not Peter's fault if he can't stand seeing that other teen being close to his mentor. It's also not his fault if he can't contain the jealousy, the pain and the sarcastic comments. He's just a boy in love after all. (wc : 19’926)

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My Heart Is Yours, So Hold Me Forever // ao3

[for itfeelssogoodmrstark] The day Tony first helped Peter with heart palpitations is also the day they said 'fuck it' and got together. The day Peter helped Tony with one of his many panic attacks is also the day they understood sharing pain is also what love is about. (wc : 4’906)

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Cuddles and Antibiotics // ao3 [with professional-benaddict]

“Why do I feel bad when I’m sick? You give me lots of cuddle when I’m sick. So if I wasn’t feeling bad, I would have loved being sick.” Little Peter gets a nasty bacterial infection, but luckily he has two adoring Daddies who will help make him better. Lots of fluff and comfort! (wc : 6’814)

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When They Confuse Possessiveness for Protection // ao3

It's Truth or Dare time, Nat has to kiss Peter's neck. Someone in the room doesn't like it. Someone in the room is gonna drink too much and do something they shouldn't. (wc : 3’572)

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You’re a Sin (It’s a Good Thing I Was Always a Sinner) // ao3

Tony made a bit of a mess, so naturally he cleans it. And the fact that mess was made inside of his boyfriend's ass just adds more fun to it. (wc : 2’345)

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Isn’t Not What It Is (Or Is It ?) // ao3

Peter has the biggest crush on Tony Stark, or like some would say, he's completely in love with him. That's why Peter feels like he's gonna burst from happiness when the man invites him to a fancy restaurant. It just doesn't end with a lovely kiss and a date for their next rendez-vous. (wc : 4’684)

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Idiots In Love // ao3

Tony gets hurt. Peter is scared and suddenly, those three words are the only thing he can think about.(wc : 3’231)

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Daddy’s Boy // ao3

Peter plays sick because he wants his dad to take care of him and- then it's just Tony spiraling into struggling and miserably failing to resist his son (wc : 2’524)

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The Whole Hallway Smells Like Cum // ao3

Tony always knew he has done many things he's not proud of in his life, but this- this reached a whole new level. (wc : 1’208)

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What Happened Next Is History // ao3

Peter catfishing Mr. Stark, his history teacher until they both fall in love. (wc : 1’985)

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Oink Daddy Oink // ao3

[for my fellow asylum storker lovers] What could Tony do when he finds his boyfriend lying naked on their bed with what seems to be pig ears, nose and tail except to have sex with this sweet piggy boy ? (wc : 2’293)

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Ski Trip

It’s Peter’s birthday and Tony invites the team for a ski trip. Spoiler : he can’t ski for shit. (wc : 661)

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I Wrote You a Song

Peter has been in love with Tony Stark since the day he was able to think on his own. (wc : 681)

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Body Swap

[answered an ask from starkeristheendgame] Peter finds himself in Pepper’s body. And so far, Pepper has been the only one with the privilege of kissing Tony Stark. (wc : 681)

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Sweet Thing

Peter’s waiting for his Daddy in cute satin clothes. But Tony is in a playful mood (read : in a torture-that-boy mood) (wc : 735)

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Glory Hole

Tony finds out his mentee works in a glory hole house. (wc : 427)

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Peter’s Obvious Crush

Im always in needs of Peter having a huge obvious crush on Tony Stark. (wc : 299)

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King!Tony And Knight!Peter

Tony likes to tease that young shy new knight. But maybe that cute thing isn’t that useless to the kingdom. (wc : 358)

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Bad Use Of a Washing Machine

Peter uses his dad dildo but then it’s not enough and he comes up with something a bit… creative. (wc : 467)

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Domestic Life

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📱 text 📱

Drunk Peter Sexting Tony

Plug Crack

Cheating!Tony

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[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Home Sweet Home AU: Shepherd's Tone

(TW: Religious Trauma, blood/gore/injury, animal death, body/face horror, unhealthy friendships/familial issues.)

"I can't make myself look at it. but She needs me to see what I have done.

Like a deer in headlights, I can see what is coming for me."

Word count: 10'586

Notes: Not much to say for this one. just heed the warnings and enjoy :)

Mark had been staring at his bedroom ceiling for around an hour. His blanket had fallen off of his messy bed a while ago, leaving him exposed to the cool air of the room around him, though he didn’t once attempt to lean over and pick it back up. His eyes blankly stared upward as he laid in the dark, seeing the dim light from downstairs shining from the stairs and barely illuminating the cracked open door leading out of his room. He remained still, taking in a deep breath as he continued to hear the words from the living room underneath him.

He couldn’t make out any proper words of course, considering the floor between him and his parents’ conversation dampened the noise enough to make what they were saying sound muffled and barely decipherable, though Mark couldn’t help but feel his heart wrench whenever he made out the few words his brain was able to process. “Mark,” “help,” “therapy,” and “Wrong” were among them, though Mark could tell by the aggravated and worried tones of their voices that there was more to it than just that. Were they aware Mark could hear them? Or were they just oblivious, hoping the son they were talking about wouldn’t notice and they could simply go back to pretending nothing bad is going on in the morning. Either option made Mark feel sick in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if tears would come out first, or if the urge to scream and shout at them about how he felt would beat it.

Mark chose to cry.

August 12th, 1992. 2:13 AM

Mark was quiet as he walked out of his room, carefully approaching the stairway as he clutched the single remaining strap of his worn out backpack. He quietly walked down the stairs, soon finding himself in the living room as he looked around, pointing his flashlight around the room as an attempt not to use the main light and blow his cover. He let out a soft breath when he saw nothing there before he quickly approached the front door, opening it before leaving the house, locking the door with his spare key before he ran towards his car.

It had been nearly an hour since he heard his parents stop talking and go to bed, yet he could still feel tears trying to fall down his cheeks as he swung open the car door and hopped inside, tossing his bag into the passenger seat. He took in a deep, shaky breath before he started the car, wincing at the sound of the engine starting up and the lights flicking on and shining brightly on the front of the house. As soon as he heard the loud sound and saw the bright lights, he muttered curses to himself, all before he backed out of the driveway as quickly as he could and drove down the road.

He had done this before; multiple times in fact, though his heart still pounded with something he figured was his anxiety creeping up on him, or the frustration he felt deep inside. They didn’t understand, and Mark doubted they would ever understand him, with his father especially feeling as though he didn’t believe a single word Mark said. Mark glanced at his radio, turning up the volume as he drove down the road, his headlights illuminating the nearby forest that ran down both sides of the asphalt. As he listened to the music, he tried nervously humming along, grasping his steering wheel even tighter.

He prayed for a sign that night, just a single sign from God himself to let him know he wasn’t going out of his fucking mind. However, all of his prayers remained unanswered, making his increasing dread in his chest all the worse as the days turned into months. He didn’t even notice that tears were forming in his eyes, nor did he understand why that was the case as they ran down his acne-ridden cheeks. Why? Why him? Why did he of all people have to have this happen to him? He can’t handle this kind of stress, with the fact that no one believed him making everything feel like an unbearable weight on his shoulders. No, he wasn’t losing touch with God, like Arthur seemed to think; if anything, it felt like God was losing touch with him.

Mark felt his knuckles ache with the amount of force he was applying to the worn leather steering wheel, jaw clenched and shoulders tight. Why did Cesar’s House have to be so far away? Why did his parents choose a house outside of town? His drive to school was 45 minutes long, maybe even longer if it’s icy out. God fucking damn it, was it always this fucking cold in the car? Was the shirt he was wearing always that scratchy? Oh God, he couldn’t just hold himself together for five minutes? Why was he crying so damn much? Why was the music louder than he set it at? Why was everything SO FUCKING LOUD-?

A deer was in the road in front of him.

Mark snapped out of his thinking to grab the wheel, swinging it to the side the best he could, though it appeared to be a tad too late. His car slammed against the deer, his wheels screeching against the asphalt as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. He froze, his breathing frantic and his mind blank as he shut off his radio and leaned back in his seat, muttering various curses under his breath as he tried to process what just happened. He took in a few deep, shaky breaths before he hesitantly reached for the door’s handle, stepping outside and into the dark road.

“Don’t be alive, don’t be alive, please don’t be alive…” Mark muttered under his breath, clasping his necklace in his hand as he walked In front of his car, seeing the smear of blood and chunks of fur stuck in the grill. “O-Oh…God…” He could only hope the deer died on impact, with the thought he was going to see a half maimed, yet still living animal In front of him making him feel nauseous. He walked through the headlights beams, looking behind the car to see the deer on the side of the road, somewhat lit up by the taillights of the vehicle. Mark took in a deep breath, hesitating before walking towards what looked like a corpse. As he got closer, he fought off the urge to gag at the sight of the large gash on the side of the deer, with its ribs buckled in. Mark was at least glad to see that it appeared to be dead, with its one remaining right antler dug in the dirt by the road and its eyes glazed over. Mark stepped back, staring at the animal as his body shook, still recovering from the shock of the accident. He forced himself to take in a breath, preparing to turn back and continue his drive.

He froze, however, when he began to hear the deer making noise.

He turned back, seeing the deer’s head tilting upward, its vocalizations sounding close to an elk, though choked and gurgling. It groaned and let out bellows as Mark stared at it with horror, with its sounds becoming less natural as the seconds ticked by. It sounded as if it was attempting to speak with vocal chords it didn’t have, sounding out certain parts of words Mark couldn’t identify. M’s, O’s, and Ah sounds came from it; a horrid cascade of animal sounds that were attempting so hard to speak like a human, as if it was so desperate to tell Mark something, but was physically incapable of doing so. It screeched and bellowed, Mark stepping back with every single vocalization until it abruptly stopped. Its head slammed against the dirt as it puked up what appeared to be veins, blood running out of its mouth and onto the cool grass as it became still and silent.

The sounds of the crickets from the woods, along with the sound of the engine running were all the sounds he could hear, with the horrid “speaking” ceasing. Mark stared at the deer, stumbling back as he grasped his necklace, muttering a small prayer under his breath before he ran back to his car and hopped inside, driving away as soon as he shut the door behind him and not looking back.

3:12 AM

Cesar was lying in bed asleep when he heard the knock at his front door. He stirred awake, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to process whether the sound was even real before he heard a more rapid set of knocking, causing him to groan and force himself up. He sat up, rubbing his face as he placed his feet onto the carpet and walked out of his room. “I’m coming, I’m coming…” He stated before hearing more knocks. “Dude, just wait a single minute, jeez…”

He walked into the living room, stepping onto the cold tile in front of the door, wincing slightly at how cold it was before opening the door. He tiredly looked through the doorway before his eyes widened slightly. “…Mark?”

“…H-Hey—”

“Do you know what fucking time it is?”

“Yeah, I…I do.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Cesar questioned. “We have school tomorrow—”

“I…Look I just…n…need to talk.”

Cesar glared at Mark with a tired, blank expression. “…Talk over the phone.” Cesar went to shut the door, being stopped by Mark, who grabbed the door with his hand.

“Wait, please, I…” Mark paused for a second, feeling Cesar’s irritated stare even as he looked away. “…I need to stay here tonight, okay? I…I promise I won’t be trouble.”

Cesar remained silent for a second, seemingly thinking before he let out a deep sigh. He relented, stepping out of the way and opening the door. “…You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s fine.” Mark walked into the home, grasping onto his torn backpack tightly before throwing it onto the couch as Cesar sighed and shut the front door.

“Mama’s gonna ask why you’re here,” Cesar said as he approached the archway that led into the kitchen. “And when she does, just…tell her…”

“I will.”

Cesar turned back before pausing, standing still before muttering something, sounding as though the words got caught in his throat for a second. “Y…You can’t…we can’t keep doing this.”

“…What did you say?” Mark asked, not catching what Cesar said.

Cesar appeared to hesitate before responding. “…I said goodnight, we’ll…talk tomorrow.” With that, Cesar left to go to bed, leaving Mark by himself, not even giving him a blanket or pillow. Mark sat in the dark living room in silence, sitting on the couch as he attempted to stop his hands from shaking so much. He clasped his knees, rubbing the denim of his pants as he stared at the ground in front of him, attempting to think of anything aside from the haunting image of the deer splayed out with gore dripping from its mouth. He laid down on the couch, crossing his arms and resting his head on the arm rest, hoping his sweatshirt and jeans would be enough to keep him warm for the night, not even bothering to take off his shoes before he stared forward, lightly rubbing his metal cross before closing his eyes, deciding to try and get some sleep.

??:??

Mark found himself walking down a damp road, looking up at the starless sky to see that it was completely black; past midnight. He stumbled down the asphalt road, barely able to see much of anything through the darkness around him, only able to make out a faint set of red lights in the distance that slowly got closer as he walked towards it. The closer he got the more he made out the vehicle, with the red lights being its taillights. It looked like his car, though its wheels seemed to have melded to the asphalt, throwing out the option of using the car to drive wherever Mark was going, the answer of which he wasn’t even sure of. He walked around the car, seeing that its headlights were shining forward onto something on the road, being something that made Mark’s stomach churn; the body of a deer.

It writhed on the ground, veins hanging from its rapidly salivating mouth, its ribs broken and legs bent. Its oddly human looking eye stared up at Mark as he approached, its mouth opening and jaw twitching as it let out unholy sounds once again. It sounded closer to human speech than before, it “speaking” urgently through its bellows of pain, though once again the words never reached Mark’s ears.

Mark stepped back away from the deer, listening to its vague “words” before he turned back towards the road, wondering if he could manage to hitchhike home. However, he only walked a few feet before he paused abruptly, and covering his mouth as nausea hit him like a freight train. He hunched over in the middle of the road, attempting to throw up something but being unable to get it out, choking and gagging as he clawed at his throat. Blood began to pour out of his nose and the corners of his mouth as he struggled. He felt something clogging up his throat, making it hard to breathe or even choke out a single yell for help before he finally coughed up whatever was stuck into his hands.

Veins; he could feel their pulse still.

He coughed up blood and viscera onto the asphalt below him, eyes watering and staring in horror as he tried to get it out, but being unsuccessful with every attempt. He stepped back further, hearing a loud pulsing in his head as he did so, panicking as he began to hear faint screams, both from the deer and from other things he couldn’t identify. His breaths were becoming nothing more but pained gurgling and gasps, his throat burning and his insides aching. His sweatshirt was stained a deep crimson from the veins hanging from his agape mouth, and his confusion, deep pain and nausea only grew in intensity before he froze. A loud honk of a horn sounded beside him, with him looking to his left, only to see a set of headlights speeding towards him, hitting his bloodied, trembling form.

He awoke abruptly on the couch, splayed out across it as he took in a breath. Blood had streamed down his face from his nose, staining his face and dripping onto his clothes. He couldn’t even process that he was awake before he covered his mouth, sitting up before scrambling out of the living room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom, promptly puking into the toilet. He threw up what appeared to be deep-red bile, with him being too disoriented to even process it before he leaned away from the toilet, resting his back against the bathroom counter as he stared forward blankly, holding his hand on his chest as he felt around for his necklace, feeling his heart pound when he realized it was no longer there.

He stood up, flushing the toilet before rushing out of the bathroom, looking at the floor to try and find the missing necklace. He reached the living room before he threw around his things in an attempt to find it, only failing to do so and feeling his chest tighten. “No, no no no no no NO—” He muttered frantically before stopping abruptly, staring forward when he finally saw the necklace, seeing that it was dangling off of the top of one of the clock’s carved in “wings”.

Mark paused, staring at the necklace that was slightly swaying from its spot on the edge of the wooden wing as he approached it. He looked up at it, holding his arm up, with it just barely out of reach as he tried to retrieve the golden cross—

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

The sound of the clock made Mark yell and fall backwards, staring up at the clock’s face, holding onto his necklace tightly before he scrambled to his feet, running out of the room and swinging open the front door of the House, not even remembering to grab his backpack as he slammed the door shut and ran to his car, driving away as soon as he started it. As he drove away, he attempted to ignore how he could’ve sworn the “wing” the necklace was hanging off of twitched and shook the necklace off of itself. It was just his imagination, right? He hoped so, anyway.

7:15 AM

Cesar stared at the drops of blood he found on the bathroom floor in silence. He wasn’t sure why they were there, or why they seemed to trail into the hallway as well, though the sight was unnerving enough for him to back out of the room and gently close the door most of the way. Cesar had thrown on a simple black T-shirt with a faded design on it, along with blue jeans, all before opening his bedroom closet and grabbing a plain gray hoodie and his backpack. He walked out of his bedroom, feeling his exhaustion creeping up on him despite him getting a decent night’s sleep, aside from the interruption that made him stay up for 30 more minutes. He walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch with a sigh, attempting to rub the tiredness from his eyes as he waited. He continued to sit in silence for a bit until his mind finally clicked something together: Where was Mark?

Cesar had realized that he hadn’t seen Mark since he woke up, or even heard his mother mention him when they ate breakfast. If nothing else, he should’ve been on the couch, yet he wasn’t. He must’ve gone home early, Cesar supposed, sighing with a tinge of annoyance with the realization that him coming over that early in the morning was therefore pointless. However, as he thought to himself, he glanced down at the ground, pausing as his eyes hit something; Mark’s worn out backpack.

The bag itself was hanging on by a single remaining strap, of which was held by a few frayed threads and some pieces of duct tape. It looked as if Mark hadn’t gotten a new one since he was in middle school, or was simply extremely reckless with it. Either way, Cesar reached towards it, grabbing its strap and, against his better judgment and worry of being caught looking through another’s things, he unzipped it to see its contents.

The first thing he saw was, of course, a pair of clothes, being a worn out shirt and blue jeans, but after pushing them to the side, he saw what was buried underneath them; a bible, a notebook, and a couple pencils. Cesar grabbed the notebook, pulling it out and staring at it for a second. Was he really going to look through someone’s personal journal? His curiosity was killing him, and as his hand absentmindedly reached for the cover, he glanced up at the clock, seeing it was only 7:21. He had time.

9:35 AM

The bells rang in the school’s halls, Mark flinching at the noise as he opened his locker, dumping his books into the rest of the mess in there, stopping things from falling out with his arms before slamming the door shut. He stood still for a moment, looking around at the rest of the students talking and walking to their lockers to get ready for the next class, catching the eye of a couple of them. The eye contact never lasted long it seemed, with the other person looking away as soon as they realized who they’re looking at. Mark didn’t blame them; he knew he wasn’t looking the greatest, and his glare was hard enough to cut glass, though at that point, with how exhausted he was, he couldn’t care less. He just needed to get this school day done with—

“Hey.”

Mark looked to his right, seeing Cesar standing close by, staring at him. Mark sighed, figuring he was going to ask where he went last night, or why he was there to begin with, so preparing to have that conversation, Mark responded, “Hey, look I…I need to stop over again after school, I forgot to grab my b…” Mark’s voice trailed off as he looked down, seeing what was hanging from Cesar’s hand; his backpack. “…bag.”

“Just take it.” Cesar held the bag up to Mark, who hesitantly grasped it and held it close before opening his locker once again.

“…Th…Thanks.” Mark said quietly, coughing before quickly shifting his leg to block off the opening of the locker as a pile of loose papers and books nearly spilled out as he placed the bag on the hook over them.

“Look, do you hate me or not?”

Mark paused at the question, turning towards Cesar with a confused look on his face. He wasn’t sure if he even heard the question right before responding. “…I d…what do you mean?”

“…I…” Cesar appeared to pause for a moment, gesturing vaguely at the backpack before looking up at Mark. “…I read your journal and saw what…you were saying about me.”

Mark stared at Cesar, stepping away from his locker and letting everything fall out onto the ground. “What?”

“I was curious, alright? I shouldn’t have done it but I really just needed to kno—”

“Why did you do that?”

“Look, I—”

Mark stepped forward, staring down at Cesar with a look that could kill. “Why the FUCK did you look in there?” Mark questioned as he grew closer, ignoring the bell that was ringing behind him.

“Dude, calm down!” Cesar said. “…I just don’t get why you can’t just say this shit to my face.”

“What kind of fucking friend are you?”

“What kind of friend are you?” Cesar snapped back. “You talk about me like I’m a piece of shit that doesn’t care about anything but myself!”

Mark stared at Cesar with a rising fury as he continued. “‘He just doesn’t listen to me, he’s ignoring everything I say,’ As if I haven’t been listening to you since we met.” Cesar spat. “If anything, I’m probably the only person that does listen to you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Mark fists clenched.

“Do you hear what you’re saying half of the time?!” Cesar questioned. “You keep saying weird shit then acting like you didn’t say anything right after! I can only handle so much Mark, I can’t keep listening to your ramblings otherwise I’d go insane too—”

Mark clasped onto Cesar’s shoulders and swung him around, slamming him against the lockers as he stared into Cesar’s eyes. Cesar’s half angry, half concerned look turned to fright as Mark’s hands clasped onto his shoulders hard enough to make them sting, thumbs digging into his collar bones and fingernails digging into his skin. Mark stared at Cesar in silence, jaw clenched and nose beginning to bleed before his furious gaze suddenly vanished, with Mark grasp lessening before they both heard something down the hall:

“HEATHCLIFF!”

Mark’s head snapped around, seeing one of the teachers staring at the two as Mark backed away. The teacher appeared furious before she continued; “I expect you to be in the principal’s office by the end of the day.”

Cesar rubbed his sore shoulder before looking at Mark, who was staring at the teacher like a deer in headlights, his hands tense and fingers twitching. Mark glared at Cesar from the side of his eye, clasping his hands together as if he just needed to squeeze something very hard. However, the fury was gone from his stare, replaced with a look of fear, for a reason Cesar was unsure of. Either way, Cesar couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if the teacher didn’t step in, and wondered how close Mark’s hands would’ve gotten to his neck before he stopped.

All Cesar knew was that he could barely even recognize who he was staring at when they made eye contact.

Mark sat outside of the principal’s office, his leg bouncing and his elbows planted on his knees as he stared at the linoleum floor. Every other student had already left, leaving him by himself in a silent hall. He could hear his mother and the principal speaking through the door, only barely muffled by the wall and door itself, allowing him to make out a part of their conversation:

“These outbursts appear to be…getting more common, Mrs. Heathcliff, and I’m simply worried of them getting only more violent if something isn’t done soon.”

“I…I understand that.” Leah stated, her voice soft as usual. “He’s…he’s a good young man, I-I don’t…I don’t know why he would react like that towards a friend, I mean…Cesar and Mark have been joined at the hip since they were children, I don’t understand why he’d suddenly become so…aggressive.”

“I understand your concern. However, if these behaviors continue, then I’m…afraid action will have to be taken.”

“What kind of action?”

“Suspension, to…possible expulsion from the Mandela County school system.”

“…You can’t be serious.” Leah’s voice quivered as she spoke.

“Of course, expulsion is only for extreme measures, and at this point, I don’t believe it will be necessary, though I’m only warning you that behaviors like these can lead to only more problems later on. Have you…spoken to him about this before?”

“…I…suppose not.”

“I’d recommend you start. Your child appears troubled, Ma’am, and I feel the best course of action is consulting his councilor and speaking to him personally. I understand now is…a hard time for everyone, and I’ve seen my fair share of students being put under extreme stress due to these unprecedented events, and I believe Mark is a similar case.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you for coming in today, ma’am. I’m…hoping this will be the last time we have a conversation like this.”

“…I do too.”

Mark waited a little while longer, no longer paying attention as he blankly stared at the ground, all before the door opened beside him and he looked up, only to see his mother’s face staring back at him.

“You alright?” Leah asked softly.

Mark remained silent, the guilty look in his eyes answering for him.

“…I have work in a little while, do you want to come with me?”

Mark looked away for a moment; did he really want to spend the rest of the day at the library? He thought about it before looking back up at his mother’s face, the sad gaze she was giving him making him decide before he nodded in silence. If it made his mom happy, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to spend some time finding books to read. If nothing else, it was a quiet environment he could stay in as he recovered from how overwhelmed he felt. Leah smiled softly before Mark stood up, with her standing by Mark’s side as they left the school, finally putting an end to Mark’s horrid school day.

The drive to the library was a silent one, Leah occasionally pointing out things, like stores already putting things up for Halloween despite it being a couple months away, or waving to someone she recognized from church. She talked to Mark, not expecting or needing a response from him, just making sure he was listening by glancing at him every once in a while. Mark simply looked out the window, seeing it was a cloudy, gray day outside, looking as if it was about to rain. It was dreary outside, though Mark didn’t mind that much; just gave him an excuse to stay inside.

Leah led Mark into the large library in the middle of downtown when they arrived there, Mark looking around the expansive, two-floored library with a neutral look on his face. He had been there a few times before, learning that it had been constructed a long time ago from Leah, though the old architecture was somewhat obvious when he saw how worn out some things were. He looked around and saw that there was barely anyone there aside from a couple of people at the computers or walking around, browsing the books on the shelves.

“Alright, if you need anything you can just come get me at the front desk,” Leah said quietly, turning to face Mark. “If I’m not there, I went to go tend to something and won’t be gone long, alright? You’re free to do anything here, just…please don’t get into trouble.”

Mark nodded quietly, with Leah smiling softly before turning and walking away, leaving Mark by himself to figure out a way to entertain himself. He put his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, beginning to look around, his tired eyes looking over the books as he tried to find anything of interest to him. He read title, after title, after another title, seeing none that piqued his interest whatsoever. In fact, most of the ones that he recognized were because he had read them in class before, made to write a book report on them despite most of them being boring and predictable. That or he had already read most of them on his own time, like most of the books from Stephen King. He couldn’t even remember the amount of times he’s read “The Shining”, or watched the movie of the same name, basically able to recite everything that happens in both by heart. 

He sighed, walking out of the aisle and towards a small table he saw against one of the walls, one that had a printer on it, available for anyone to use. He walked towards it, opening the printer and grabbing a few pieces of paper from it before shutting it once again, all before grabbing a pencil that was on the desk and walking towards one of the tables in the middle of the room. However, he paused, glancing at something on the wall before he stopped walking, staring at it for a while. On the wall was a public cork board, one that anyone could paste whatever they wanted onto it to promote an event or anything of the sort. One of the papers on it drew his attention however, seemingly pasted over a pile of similar papers.

It was a missing poster for a young man, who seemed to be named “Michael Richards.” The picture was of a man with a short, low ponytail, and an open hoodie with colored sleeves, the color of which Mark was unsure of due to the photo being in black and white. He couldn’t see anything below the mid-torso area, though Mark was more focused on the face of him. The face nor the name rang a bell in Mark’s mind, though the sight of him smiling widely, seeming to be having fun despite his face being plastered on a missing poster made a pit form in Mark’s gut. A face of happiness on something that was basically a public death certificate for the Mandela area.

Mark shook off the sudden chill up his spine before continuing his walk to the tables, sitting down and placing the blank papers in front of him, staring at them with his pencil in hand as he thought of something to draw. He rested his head on his free hand, staring at the blank page in silence as he absentmindedly scratched his head. He felt as though he was being watched, hunching over his papers as if he was scared someone was watching him doodle from right behind him. Mark glanced around, seeing that no one was even close to him, nor paying him any attention, so he let out a sigh and began to draw.

A few hours had passed, and Mark threw yet another crumpled up paper ball into the trash, with his left hand stained with graphite. He sighed deeply, walking towards the front desk to see Leah speaking with someone on the other side of it. Mark waited for their conversation to be over, resting his arms on the tall desk as he looked around. He was starting to feel hungry, most likely due to him skipping breakfast that morning, despite his mother cooking for them. He looked out of the front doors of the building, seeing that the sky was already beginning to turn orange as evening approached. He stared outside blankly, looking at nothing in particular before Leah spoke.

“You alright?”

Mark looked back to see Leah was looking at him with a slightly concerned look on her face. He nodded before Leah spoke again. “You want to go home?” she asked softly.

Mark nodded again.

“Alright, I’m going to be here for another few hours, but I’ll call home and see if your father can come pick you up,” Leah reached towards  one of the phones on the desk before looking back up at Mark, who had a look of disappointment on his face. “…you know what? How about I see if I…can get off a little early tonight. Maybe we can do something like…play a board game or something. Does that sound alright to you?”

Mark glanced to the side, thinking to himself for a while. His true plan was to go home, get some quick dinner then go to bed, even if he wasn’t necessarily looking forward to yet another night of night terrors. He looked back to Leah, nodding slightly once again, causing a faint smile to form on her face. “Alright. I’ll go ahead and call Arthur then.” She stated. Mark started to walk away, though Leah stopped him by speaking once again. “One more thing…” Mark turned to face her, seeing she was smiling, though it was a sort of sad smile. “…Thank you for staying here with me. I think it’s good for you to get out and around like this, you know?”

Mark didn’t respond, looking at the ground and nodding slightly before walking away. He wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the ride home that would most certainly involve his father berating him for his school mishap, though at least he had a couple hours of peace and hopefully more when he got home.

9:15 PM

Mark stared blankly into the living room from the kitchen, leaning against the wall as he watched Leah and Sarah playing with building blocks on the carpet. He could feel his exhaustion creeping up on him, judging by the heavy eyelids and the foggy mind. He would’ve gone up to his room by then, sleeping the night away until morning came, but something was keeping him up, whether it was his fear of nightmares or his insomnia. He supposed it didn’t matter either way; if he was going to stay up, he might as well accept it.

He opened the fridge door, digging through everything in there before grabbing an energy drink he had hidden in there. He looked at it, standing up straight before closing the fridge door. He jumped, startled by the sight of his father standing there, staring at him before looking down and seeing the can in Mark’s hand.

“…You know those aren’t good for you.” He stated. “They’re bad for your heart.”

“…Y…Yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t get in the habit of drinking those.” Arthur sighed.

“I won’t.” Mark turned to go upstairs, Arthur watching him before speaking again.

“Oh, before you go,” Arthur called. “The trash needs to be taken out, could you do that? I need to get some bills paid.”

Mark looked at Arthur, one step on the first stair before he sighed and stepped back down. “…Yeah I…can do that.”

“Good. Though don’t be out there for too long,” Arthur stated. “People have been hearing what sounds like a bear around here.”

“There aren’t bears around here…” Leah said. “It’s probably one of the neighbor’s dogs.”

“Either way, just get it done, alright?”

“Mm-hm.” Mark placed the can on the kitchen table before brushing past Arthur and towards the trash can. He tied up the trash bag, pulling it out and lugging it over his shoulder, hoping nothing spilled out or broke as he approached the back door.

It was already getting dark, with the sky being a deep blue, near fully black. He couldn’t see much past the back porch light as he stepped out onto the concrete, looking around before spotting the trashcan right to the side of the porch, on the other side of the wooden railing. He sighed, taking one last quick glance around his dark backyard before opening the small gate and stepping onto the damp grass. He whistled to himself as he opened the garbage can’s lid and threw the bag into it, hearing it thump against the bottom of the plastic bin.

He wiped his hands on his pants as he walked around the porch, placing his hand on the gate to open it before he paused, feeling a more intense feeling of being watched than he felt in the library, making his blood run cold. He looked behind him, into the trees, but saw nothing but darkness and whatever overgrown plants were there past the yard line. He turned to his right, seeing the empty road, also seeing nothing. He turned to his left and—

There was a face staring back at him from the tree line.

Mark couldn’t move as he stared at the Figure in his yard; a monochrome man in a jacket with colored sleeves and a black shirt, with its dark hair tied back. Its face however was what made Mark’s heart pound, seeing two large, near completely black eyes aside from the small hints of white staring back at him from the dark. Its gaping maw was impossibly wide open, its eerily white teeth the only thing visible in the blackness. It was only the top half of the body, and Mark could see its organs hanging from the bottom half of its torso, and its arm bones and veins hanging from torn arm stumps, bloodying its clothes and bleeding onto the grass below it, hovering as if it still had legs to stand on.

Mark stared at it with wide eyes, unable to look away as if he was trapped in some kind of trance. It didn’t seem to be moving, or at least on a passing glance, though Mark could tell the longer he stared that it was ever so slowly approaching, its face unchanging. Mark finally shook off his sudden paralysis, swinging open the gate and scrambling onto the porch, locking the gate behind him before lunging towards the back door. He fumbled with the doorknob, finding that it was locked, as if it was jammed. He slammed his hand against the door, screaming for someone to open it before turning back towards where he saw the Figure, only to find that the yard was empty once again. He froze, silently searching for the Figure before he turned around fully.

Its two beady eyes stared back at Mark from the other side of the porch, its head twitching ever so slightly as its gaze never once moved away from Mark’s cowering form. Mark backed away, staring at the Figure as he tried to do anything aside from stand in one place, despite his legs turning into jelly. He stared into the thing’s eyes; its unblinking, unmoving eyes. Mark’s eyes watered and his throat was too tight to even let out a sob before his eyelids suddenly felt as heavy as elephants.

Then he fell asleep.

Mark couldn’t process what his parents were saying when he woke up, hearing them somewhere in the room with him, with them speaking in hushed, worried tones to each other. Mark hadn’t yet opened his eyes, but he could gather that he was lying on the living room couch, with what felt like an ice pack on his head. Perhaps the ice pack was a good call, considering the throbbing pain he felt in his skull. He overheard his mother talking to his father, seemingly contemplating taking Mark to the hospital; as if he hadn’t gone there enough already. Mark winced slightly at yet another sharp pain in his head before he finally opened his eyes, being greeted by Arthur standing at the end of the couch, one hand on the back of it as he looked at Leah, who was in a chair to the side of said couch.

“Mark!” Leah all but jumped out of her seat when she finally saw Mark’s eyes were open, kneeling by the couch and lightly caressing Mark’s head. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Mark couldn’t even get an answer out, with any words he could say becoming lodged in his throat. Instead, he let out a groggy “I don’t know”, not even attempting to make his voice loud enough to hear it clearly.

“W-We found you on the porch, just passed out I-I thought something happened to you—” Leah covered her mouth, taking in a deep breath as she suppressed her urge to cry. “Do you remember anything?”

Mark stared blankly at Leah, thinking hard as he slowly sat up, wincing when he felt his headache come back. After a few moments, he began speaking: “I was…taking out the trash ‘nd…” Mark said quietly. “I…I w…”

The Figure’s gaze pierced his soul when he remembered it.

“…I don’t know, I…think I just…passed out.”

“Leah…” Arthur said softly. “I think you should…go get some rest.”

“I…I’m fine.” Leah said, her voice wavering slightly. “Just a…a little…I…”

“Sarah needs to be taken to bed anyway.” Arthur said. “I think you need some time to…calm down.”

Leah sighed, looking at Mark before kissing his forehead and walking away, grabbing Sarah’s arm as she led her upstairs, Mark seeing Sarah was looking at him as they walked away. Mark stared at the stairway for a few moments as Arthur sat on the chair by the couch, sighing deeply as he did so.

“…What did you see out there?”

Mark looked at Arthur with furrowed brows and a confused look on his face.

“You’ve…mentioned seeing things lately, but you never said what.” Arthur continued. “What have you been seeing?”

Mark’s stare alone questioned why Arthur needed to know that.

“…You know, sometimes people are given visions.” Arthur stated. “Many of God’s prophets were given these visions or…messages to give to the people of this world. Sometimes they seem…vague, or confusing or…even frightening to some, but they have to…mean something. So I just want to know…what you have been experiencing. Because…it’s possible God’s trying to…speak through you.”

“…I d…I don’t think it’s God, Dad.” Mark muttered, lightly rubbing his necklace with his thumb.

“There’s a possibility it could be.” Arthur said, leaning forward. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Mark looked at the ground blankly, thinking of what he could say or do before he closed his eyes for a moment. “…I was driving t…to Cesar’s house last night.” Mark started. “I just…w…wanted to…to stay the night, but when I was driving I…I hit a…deer.”

“…I see.” Arthur figured that explained the stains and fur on the front of the car. “…What about this?”

“…I checked on the deer and…” Mark paused, thinking carefully, staring at the floor with an unblinking stare. “…It wasn’t dead.”

Arthur simply nodded, his brows somewhat furrowing.

“…It tried speaking to me.” Mark said in a monotone voice. “…Vomiting out its organs and veins. Attempting to talk to me with vocal chords it didn’t have. It wanted to speak to me. It needed to give me a message, but was incapable of doing so.”

Arthur sat up and leaned back in his seat, mouth open slightly as Mark continued.

“I saw it in a dream the same night. Its words were clearer but they still never reached my ears.” Mark droned. “I felt them…crawling under my skin. Veins pushing themselves out of my body; choking me. All-encompassing agony. A mind running with thoughts that didn’t belong to me. My misery was only ended by the sight of two headlights coming towards me.”

Mark shook his head slightly, finally blinking and rubbing his dried out eyes. “…And then I…woke up. I had t…to vomit after that dream, and I just f-felt so…sick. I went home right after.”

Mark looked up to see Arthur staring at him with widened eyes, stuck in a stunned silence before he gestured towards his nose. Mark stared at Arthur with confusion before he began to taste blood, feeling something warm running out of one of his nostrils. “O-Oh…shit.” Mark stood up, immediately heading to the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Arthur watched him leave, unable to speak as his hands trembled slightly. He could barely put his own thoughts together, only recognizing a deep feeling of dread within him that he hasn’t felt before.

Maybe Mark was right; it didn’t sound like God was the one speaking to his son.

August 13th, 1992. 2:12 AM

Mark laid on his side, curled up in the middle of it in the fetal position as he held his necklace in his hand, using his other arm to lightly rub his opposite shoulder. His family had fallen asleep hours ago, seemingly without much effort, though Mark appeared to not have been blessed with such a thing. He stared forward, not at anything in particular, his green eyes staring into the darkness visible through the cracked open bedroom door, not once looking away. He shook slightly, both from the lack of a blanket over him and the discomfort in his body, feeling as if his insides itched and couldn’t be scratched.

He realized it was silly to be afraid of the dark, especially as a near legal adult that ditched his nightlight when he was 10, though his mind didn’t seem to think so. Flashes of that thing’s face appeared in his mind, imagining it staring back at him from the hallway, waiting for him to fall asleep. Mark’s bloodshot eyes were beginning to become dried out from his unblinking stare, stinging enough to make him tear up before he finally closed them for a moment, opening them back up right after, seeing that the door was open further than it was. Mark let out a panicked gasp, sitting up and scrambling for his flashlight on his nightstand, turning it on to see that nothing was in the hallway, yet the door creaked open slowly before stopping entirely. His breathing was harsh before he managed to calm himself down, deciding it was best to go then instead of later.

Mark stood up, shambling around his room, kicking away trash and piles of clothes before standing in the doorway, looking down the dark hall before sneaking towards the stairway. He quietly walked down the carpeted stairs, into the living room, and towards the front door, looking back at his house as he reached for the doorknob, pausing for a moment before opening the door and leaving the house without a word and without a thought.

The drive to Cesar’s house was a quiet one, with Mark not even bothering to turn on the radio, with only his thoughts keeping him company along with the gentle sound of the AC. He stared forward blankly, unmoving and silent, eyes darting around the dark woods to the sides of the road, searching for the reflected lights of an animal’s eyes. Yet, that night appeared more silent and empty than it was before, with no surprise buck there to hit. However, he half expected to see the slowly decaying corpse of the deer he hit the previous night, though he never saw one, even as he passed by the spot he hit it at; another animal must have gotten to it. The food chain was still in effect despite the rest of the world falling apart, it appeared.

The town was as empty as usual when Mark finally drove through its border, blankly staring through his windshield as he drove through the large gateway leading into Wisteria Avenue. Cesar’s house was completely dark, with both him and his mother presumably asleep when Mark parked on the side of the road, staring at the house with dull eyes before he hesitantly opened up his car door, stepping onto the curb before approaching the front door. To his surprise however, the door appeared to be slightly opened; almost inviting to anyone who wanted to come in. The worry of a possible intruder lingered in Mark’s mind as he reached for the strangely warm door knob, though was quickly snuffed out when he heard the sound of an all too familiar ticking noise coming from inside.

There it was; the clock Mark had seen in dreams, nightmares, and hallucinations alike. He walked into the living room, staring at the clock’s face, its hands moving with every beat. Mark turned towards the archway leading into the kitchen, carefully walking towards it, before moving through the kitchen, and towards the back hallway, eyes somewhat glistening in the dark as he approached one of the doors. He grabbed the handle, slowly opening it part way, its hinges creaking as he looked inside, seeing a bedroom. Cesar was sleeping in his bed, completely still and not even reacting to Mark’s presence whatsoever.

Vulnerable.

Mark slowly shut the door after only a few seconds of blank staring, all before he heard them once again; the bells ringing three times. Mark walked out of the hallway, back through the kitchen, passing by a set of glass sliding doors, partially cloaked by curtains. He glanced outside, seeing nothing of interest in the backyard aside from the faint orange light from a nearby streetlight, though the darkness made him turn his head away, imagining widened eyes staring back at him from the dark if he didn’t look away first.

When he made it back into the living room, he saw the clock once again, but noticed two things when he approached it: There was an odd, sweet smell coming from it, almost like vanilla. Secondly, the door was opened, the compartment with the pendulum being exposed somewhat through the partially opened glass door. Mark didn’t even know that the door could be opened, assuming it was completely stuck shut for a reason he didn’t know. However, there it was, open, almost like it wanted him to take a closer look at its inner workings. However, when Mark lightly pressed his cool hand on the door to look closer, he was interrupted by the sound of a loud thud against something on the other side of the House.

Mark backed away from the clock, peeking from behind the kitchen archway to see the glass doors had a new red smear on the outside of them, dripping down onto the small patio below it. Mark stared at the stain, stumbling towards the doors, pushing the curtains out of the way as he looked outside, seeing nothing but grass and trees past the backyard once again. His eyes glanced from side to side, all before he heard a loud deer call just out of view. He flinched, backing away as he placed his hand on his chest and over his necklace, all before sighing, feeling embarrassed that he was scared by the local wildlife. He unlocked and slid open the glass door, looking to the right, expecting to see a doe or even a buck standing there munching on grass or something, only to find that his blood ran cold when he finally saw it. 

“You.”

The deer hobbled along on only its front legs, with its two back legs appearing lame and unusable. Its left antler was hanging on by a single bit of broken bone and nerves, and its side appeared bloody and broken. How the deer made it all the way here from the road to Cesar’s house with only two working legs astounded and frightened Mark to no end, making him nearly want to vomit. It leaned down and began gnawing at a rotten apple on the ground, from the tree that was right behind it. Mark couldn’t look away as it chewed and ate the rotten fruit as if it would kill it if it didn’t. After a few moments of horrified silence, Mark watched it raise its head, facing Mark and staring at him with constricted pupils. Veins and sinew were hanging from its agape mouth as its head twitched and legs trembled. Mark took a step towards the glass doors behind him, preparing to go back insi—

The deer was pounced on by a tall, pale figure that leaped out from the tree line. Mark yelled, stumbling back and falling into the kitchen as he heard loud, staticy yells and screeches, along with pained bellows from the deer just outside. Mark scrambled to his feet, slamming the door shut and closing the curtains, backing away until he was against the opposite wall. He could hear flesh tearing and bones crunching as Mark shuffled towards the archway, all before Mark ran towards the front door, ignoring the clock and swinging open the door, slamming it shut behind him before he booked it to his car. He had never started a vehicle that quickly in his life, backing away from the House and speeding down the road, not once bothering to check if he was under the speed limit. He felt as though he was missing something as he drove away, despite not bringing anything there, but it didn’t matter. Mark wasn’t lingering long enough to see what that large humanoid wanted.

6:10 AM

Mark audibly groaned when he heard the sound of his alarm clock that morning. He knocked the alarm clock over, it hitting the ground with a soft thud, thankfully hitting a pile of clothes on the ground next to the nightstand. Mark stared at the ceiling, still wearing the clothes he wore to Cesar’s House; in fact, he hadn’t slept at all during that time, only staring at the ceiling blankly with dried out eyes, only blinking every couple minutes at least. Another night of fearing nightmares and swearing he heard sounds outside his window, his heart beating hard enough to keep waking him up whenever he dared to doze off. He pondered whether he wanted to stay at home and pretend he was sick, or go to school and get another boring and overwhelming day done with, and knowing the amount of missing days he’s already taken, he reluctantly decided on the latter.

He groggily sat up, sitting in place for a few moments before standing up on two shaky legs, shambling towards his bedroom door, grabbing his backpack on the way then moving through the hallway. When he made it downstairs, he saw Leah in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for him and Sarah, with Sarah already at the kitchen table. The smell of food alone, even if it smelled good, made Mark feel nauseous, getting rid of any appetite he had left. Mark stared at Leah and Sarah for a moment before speaking.

“Is Sarah done eating?”

“…Oh she hasn’t eaten yet, I’m still making everything.” Leah explained. “Though, she’s going to stay home today anyway, if…you’re ready to go.”

“…Why isn’t she going?”

“She’s getting a cold, it seems…” Leah sighed. “Got it from her classmates I reckon.”

“Hm.” Mark looked towards the front door with a tired, half-lidded glare.

“…Oh, by the way…did you…leave last night?” Leah asked. “I-I’m not mad, I just don’t think it’s safe to—”

Leah turned to see the front door open, only to close soon after, with Mark completely missing from the living room. Leah sighed softly, looking back at the stove and pan of eggs with a worried look in her eyes, lightly rubbing her thumb on her sapphire necklace.

11:23 AM

Mark was losing it in that fucking school.

Mark stared at his desk, scratching the wood of it with his chipped nails, leaving small lines in its surface. He stared at the math worksheet he had been given, with only a few scratched out answers in the spots given and the rest covered in what must have been hundreds of small, messy doodles. He couldn’t even think of the rest of the answers, his brain moving as slow as molasses yet as quickly as a racecar. He looked around, seeing the rest of his classmates staring at their worksheets in complete silence, with not even music blotting out the thoughts (or lack thereof) in his head. Nothing and everything all at once.

Mark glanced towards the other side of the room, seeing Cesar sitting at his own desk. Mark was surprised he hadn’t chewed out Mark about what happened the previous day, yelling at him about how they weren’t friends anymore and how he wished that Mark was dead. Perhaps a cruel thought, and maybe misplaced, but Mark would’ve rather had Cesar be the one to yell at him about how unstable he was than his own mind. At the very least, he could choke out the words of someone else, but not his own mind.

The clock in that room was starting to sound like a jackhammer in Mark’s ears. It felt as grating as nails on a chalkboard, all the while the feeling of being watched didn’t once subside. Mark couldn’t concentrate on whatever work he was meant to be doing, only staring blankly downwards, and waiting for the bell to ring once again. He felt as though his own thoughts were overrun by something else, making him unable to even think of a single thing on his own clearly. Mark glanced up at the board at the front of the room, seeing that the words on it were warped in his vision, nearly completely unreadable. Mark began to regret going to school; he would’ve rather risked getting suspended for absence than deal with the horrible feelings he had while at that school.

Mark took in a deep breath, attempting to gather his thoughts as he looked around, rubbing his necklace to try and ground himself as he attempted to not panic in the middle of the classroom. He looked at the teacher, who was sitting at his desk, staring at a few papers on it in silence. Everything was silent aside from the damned clock hung up on the wall, one whose ticks and tocks made Mark want to rip his hair out. As every second went by, he felt more and more exhausted, with his mind foggy and thoughts unclear. He felt as though something else’s hands were wrapping against his head, making him move at its will and not his own.

BANG.

The first loud bang caused everyone in the class to flinch, with Cesar even dropping his pencil.

BANG.

The second one, albeit not as loud as the previous one, was enough to make everyone turn around, Cesar turning to see what was going on. Mark on the other end of the classroom, face down on the desk, blood gushing out of his now broken nose when Cesar all but leapt out of his seat and ran towards Mark, with even the teacher standing up and making his way to Mark’s desk.

“Mark?!” Cesar questioned, making Mark look up, blood pouring out of his nose, and his bloodshot eyes looking up at his “friend”. “Mark what the fuck happened?!”

“I’ll call the nurse and take him down th—” The teacher offered, but was interrupted by Cesar.

“N-No, I’ll just take him there—get up—” Cesar grabbed Mark’s arm, hoisting it over his shoulders before stumbling towards the door, trying his best to ignore the stares of his fellow concerned and frightened classmates as he left the room.

Cesar and Mark limped down the hallway towards the office, Cesar struggling to hold Mark’s weight due to Mark barely holding himself up. Cesar glanced up at Mark’s face, seeing two, dead, yet scared eyes staring back at him from under his messy hair. “W…What the FUCK was that?!" Cesar questioned. “…Why?!”

“I…d…I-I d…don’t…” Mark muttered so quietly Cesar could barely hear him. “I d…didn..t…sh…she…I-I…”

“Look man just…fuck, just hang in there, alright? We’re almost there,” Cesar said quickly, spotting the office at the end of the hall. “We’ll figure out how to fi—”

“Why.”

“…What?” Cesar paused for a second, seeing Mark was staring down at him with widened eyes.

“…I th…thought y-you…y…you hated…me.”

Cesar thought for a moment, looking at the ground before shaking his head. “We’ll talk about it later, just…” Cesar glanced down at the floor below Mark’s feet, seeing the growing puddle of blood under his shoes. “…Fuck, okay just…keep moving.”

Cesar continued to all but drag Mark to the office, trying to ignore how dread-inducing Mark’s dead-eyed stare was so he could walk the final distance there.

7:33 PM.

Silence.

For once Mark was staring at the ceiling in silence, but now finally feeling as though his brain was clearing up, enough for him to think for himself. The tight bandages on his nose hurt like hell, as well did the cross in his clenched fist that made his palm bleed, though the pain didn’t matter to him anymore. He stared at the bathroom ceiling, the water in the bath around him long since cooling down, to the point where it was barely lukewarm.

For once he felt…calm. Or at least as calm as the looming sense of dread that never left him would allow. As he laid in the water, fully clothed but not caring of how drenched his clothes would be afterwards, he let his mind become completely blank. Perhaps his emotions and thoughts had become so numb due to how overwhelming everything had become, stripping him of every ounce of energy he had and leaving nothing more than a husk. Either way, he didn’t even flinch at the sound of the knock on the bathroom door, only turning his head towards it before hearing a familiar, yet friendly voice.

“…Mark?”

Mom.

Mark sat up straight, letting out a quiet “yes?”, only really audible to him and him alone.

“…Are you alright?” Leah asked from the other side of the door, her voice soft and comforting. She heard movement and water splashing on the other side of the door before it was opened, Leah letting out a small gasp when she saw Mark standing there, with clothes that were dripping water onto the tiled floor and a hand that was covered in his own blood. Leah stared at Mark, letting out a saddened, soft, wavering smile before brushing Mark’s hair away from his left eye, seeing his green eyes in full. “…Y…You know I love you…don’t you?” She asked with a slight squeak in her voice.

Mark’s intense, blank stare was fixated at his mother’s face, eyes beginning to water before he wrapped his arms around Leah, sobbing into her shoulder as Leah returned the hug. Leah herself felt tears swelling up in her eyes, and began crying quietly as she embraced her son, not wanting to let go no matter what.

“I love you…don’t you ever forget that…ever.” She squeaked past her tears. “…God…please…” She choked on her own words before muttering one last thing:

“I just want my son back.”

[eiightysixbaby]

why is writing smut so incredibly tedious at times. like I’m sitting here contemplating how many different words or phrases I can possibly use to describe getting railed without it getting too repetitive 🧍🏻‍♀️

[emeraldcitynerdfighter]

"Carson, stop."

Greta's hands fell to her shoulders. After over a decade, the weight alone was enough to pause Carson's spiral dead in its tracks.

Truth comes in stillness

Greta searched her face, then quickly glanced around them, everyone shifting roles and equipment as they transitioned back into offense. She then grabbed Carson by the wrist, dragging her out of the dugout. Greta didn't stop or acknowledge Carson's pleas and confusion until they were almost back to the locker rooms, well out of eye- and ear-shot of the roaring crowd chanting for them.

"Greta, what are you --"

"Come here."

Greta caught Carson's hand and pulled her close. She didn't give Carson a moment to respond or protest before she kissed her. It wasn't a quick peck or a brush against the lips; it was purposeful, intense, the most public they’ve ever been, mere feet away from hundreds of people, at risk of having someone walk right back into the locker room. Usually, if timing permitted, they snuck in maybe a peck on the cheek or a squeeze of the hand. Never this.

Carson pulled back. She exhaled sharply, a smile playing at her lips, as she searched Greta's face. "You've gotten bold, Gill."

Greta shrugged, her arms still slung around Carson's waist. "What are they gonna do, fire us?" She tucked a loose lock of hair behind Carson's ear. "If I want to kiss my wife today, I should get to."

My wife

Greta pulled her closer, foreheads nearly touching, the air around them a mix of grass and the sweet dirt of the diamond and the hint of Greta's perfume -- the scents of their careers, their romance, their lives.

"You make me feel brave, Carson Shaw. You make me believe there's a world that's coming where I get to kiss my wife as she crosses the plate after hitting a game-winning home run." She kissed her again. "And, if I can't do that just yet, I'm gonna make my own rules."

Carson wrapped her arms around Greta, breathing in the scents of the corridor -- musty and filled with sawdust and sand, a combination that always smelled like home. "I'm so proud of you," she mumbled against her chest.

Greta stroked Carson's hair, resting her chin on the top of her head. "I'm so proud of us." She leaned back, looking at Carson. "We did this."

They glanced into the locker room, in its final, most disastrous state before the season ended. Chalk-written names faded and smudged, old, abandoned, crusty socks shoved into corners of lockers, a line of makeup containers along the mirror in the bathroom.

It was beautiful.

Look at what we made together.

"I love you," Carson whispered, her throat tight and raspy. She pulled Greta back to her. "I know this isn't the way it should be ending…"

"No. It's perfect," Greta pressed a kiss to Carson's forehead. "And I love you, too. All the way."

Carson offered a watery smile in return. "And every day."

In the distance, the cheers unknowingly beckoned them back. Carson scrunched up her face, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Greta, we have to go soon." She whispered it as if they weren't the only ones in the corridor, like saying it too loudly would mean it would be heard by the rest of the universe, that it would finally set the inevitable into motion.

It can't end if we don't leave.

Now, though, there was no more time.

"I know…" Greta placed her hands on Carson's warm, sun-kissed cheeks, dotted with her late-summer freckles. "So, here's what's about to happen. I'll get onto first, Danny will get me to second, and you bring me home.

"We know how this ends."

[read more on a03]

[daenerys-targaryen]

being a girl and also an over thinker is so 😵‍💫

[queenlucythevaliant]

For YOUR name: how about “Lightscribe”? Light because, like holbytlanna said, it just suits you, and scribe because of your most excellent stories?

I like it! Although would you believe it, I don't really think of myself as a writer lol.

[arklay]

a dangerous thing.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 22.8k warnings: nsfw, body image, sexual dysfunction

“Take them off,” she whispered, motioning towards his sunglasses. “I want to see you.”

Wesker sighed, and despite the little voice in his head telling him not to entertain her like last time, he reached up and took his glasses off, nonetheless. Folding the temples slowly over one another, he made sure not to touch the lenses and leave any smudges – no doubt amusing her with how careful he was being with them – before he placed them down on the table. When he looked back up at her, he watched how her eyes were trained on his hands until they flitted up to meet his own, and the small smile that deepened the indents on her cheeks stirred that irritating sensation behind his sternum.

“Your fascination with my eyes is unnerving,” he said without thinking too much on the implications of such a statement, and immediately regretted it afterwards.

Diana chuckled, standing up straight as she stepped even closer into his space, the jasmine in her perfume seeming more potent than usual as it overwhelmed his senses; that familiar, almost comforting scent reminded him of the first time they had ever stood this close.

She searched his eyes for further clarification as her smile turned more teasing than sweet, and she lifted a hand to absent-mindedly walk her fingers up his chest. “Did you just admit that I unnerve you?”

[read on ao3]

[mangoisms]

Hiii morning ask game time! I'm sending in multiple but you don't have to answer them all!

☁️ 🌷 🍧 please!

And 🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

hiiii froggy thank you 🫶🫶🫶🫶 i loveeeee ask games so i am super happy to answer all of these ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

☁️ wip you want to write but haven't started yet

omg... it has to be eof... it's yet another dc comics fic, except it's tim drake/oc! basically the mc, leah, gets spider powers and has to learn how to navigate them with tim's 'help.' and the caveat there, of course, is that he is technically helping her but also monitoring her progress/development to make sure she isn't a threat to the city, as in specifically cataloguing information about her powers as a sort of contingency plan 'just in case' and she has no idea he's doing Any Of That because she thinks he's just helping her mostly out of the kindness of his own heart. but then they actually get to be friends!! but then he's wayyy past the point of no return and plus batman Does Not like meta-humans (what leah technically is now) in 'his' city and is disapproving of her going out there as a vigilante (technically aided by tim but batman Does Not know this) and its basically a whole mess of lies and it will definitely totally be fine when it all unravels (it will not).

(not technically spoilers either just 'cause you kinda go in knowing tim is not totally helping leah out of kindness but she doesn't know that; there's just so much drama and i think it's the fic i get to showcase tim's flaws the most which is so fun)

🌷 writing achievement you want to brag about

hm!!!! i don't actually know... i guess my hits on ao3? superposition is almost at 4k hits which is crazy. and frmb is at 2.5k which is also crazy. if not this maybe my total word count there???? its at. help. 450k 😭 since 2019...

🍧 weirdest place you've written

lets see i think the weirdest place i've written is maybe the drive-thru? if the line is particularly long i will whip out my phone and start writing LOL. i will write anywhere if given the chance as long as i have my phone 🫡

and thank you!!!! for the 🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥 i am sending that right back to you ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

send me summertime writing asks!

[crossbackpoke-check]

wait you got me so invested in the stammer & heddy tailor au....

this is my standard disclaimer that i have never posted a fic on ao3* and for however much i say “au” i truly mean that it’s a universe that lives in my head & i am absolutely delighted to tell you all about, all the time <3 if it helps i ALSO got me so invested in the heddy & stammer tailor au

ok now that the author’s note is out of the way here’s some notes about the not!fic heddy & stammer tailor au:

stammer as the tailor from gent’s playbook, very reserved, quiet, with an excellent eye for details (honestly the evidence i have for his style sense is just that he’s best friends with pk subban so it has to be there somewhere if only by proxy irl) is hired by victor hedman, star of the tampa bay lightning who is every other tailor’s nightmare to dress (huge, opinionated, fashionable)

heddy is decently well-known throughout the league for being very well-dressed & becomes quietly well known for also being one of his new tailor’s favorite loyal customers [heddy has the nicest fabrics. he has his suits the first day a new collection drops & e v e r y o n e is jealous]

stammer’s business booms after heddy takes a chance on him as his first big client & promotes him, heddy sees him grow in popularity & get more clients

heddy also moonlights as a model for stammer’s suits on instagram, initially to help him grow his business because then he won’t have to pay for a model and then because he’s over there all the time anyway because they’re dating (that’s why the model’s face is never in the pictures)

there’s not really a plot to this besides the vague idea of a plot where stammer makes heddy his lucky suit that he wins the cup in & sews a special little tag into the lining of his jacket that says i love you

because love sometimes is picking out the perfect right color pocket square to match your husband’s beautiful suit that you fitted like a kiss to the curves of his huge body

& also sometimes love is making your beautiful husband who makes you beautiful clothing enjoy nice things for himself once in a while, like the fancy watch you bought him or the nice suit you custom-ordered for him (from him) just so you could take it off of him

[reminiscingtonight]

Lmao sorry to the anons duking it out in my inbox. I lied. She’s All Yours part two + Sisterly Love blurb numerous dos will battle it out next week. Instead y’all are gonna get a small little bartender Leah blurb tonight

[bcneheaded]

HELLOOO I don't want to reblog the post!! bc I don't necessarily mean to put this here as a way of continuing it!! but!! I did want to put this writing here with the link to the original open starter from someone else for context of the following writing :'0 I just wanted to have an example of Badru!

Here (x) is the original reblog to the following text, in case yall wanna see whats before this one; just wanted to show what it's like to interact with the big benevolent shadow entity <3

~~

How long had it been here for, wandering the premises in search of... in search of... was it in search of something? In curiosity perhaps of... something it could not quite place. It wasn’t bad, at least it didn’t think it was. Whatever it was that had drawn it to this old place. It simply was, just as it was. It would know what it was when it found it, in any case. For now...

There’s a a flicker of a shadow that moves between two doorways down the hall the young woman faced. Something humanoid, and yet... Not quite right. Not quite familiar. It didn’t mean any harm, or malice. And it made that known to the delicate human senses that entered the vicinity by offering a Not Feeling-- extending a feeling of nothing. No prickles of the neck, no goosebumps, no sense of dread or Not Right-ness. The otherworldly did tend to instill a silent panic within the living, and he did not want anyone to think he meant any harm. He did not. And thus... Silence of the sixth sense is what he offered. He only wanted to be left to explore in peace, as he was certain others wished as well. But alas..

A voice. A greeting calls out to no one. To it? Was she addressing them? Itself? How curious of her, to seek out shadows in an old building that held so many echoes of much grander interest than he ever could be. And then it makes a noise. Oops. Dropped the music box. It didn’t work anymore, sadly. But the ballerina inside inched to the left, wanting to make a little spin as she lay sideways in her box, now open on the floor.

He leaves it. It would take too much energy at present to pick up the physical object. He didn’t need to; someone else of the living would, no doubt.

Was it here? Was he? Sort of. She speaks to him as if she knows he’s there, like she believes there is something--someONE other than flesh. There is an odd sort of respect in her voice, even as she admonishes the invisible thing that tiptoed through the dark corners of the home. But she’s right, isn’t she? It isn’t very nice. Had it scared her? Oops, again.

A black cat meanders from the doorway, to the next room across from where the woman faced, stopping for just a second to look at her with its odd eyes-- eyes that looked too white, too reflective with so little light in the old building. She had been speaking to it, hadn’t she?

<<  Scared  of   me  ? >>   Comes a whisper when it disappears. It hangs in the air all around, from no direction. Non descript. Barely audible; barely reaching the weak human senses. Had it been recorded, as “ghost hunters” enjoy doing it has discovered, it’s likely it would have been written off as a ghostly voice... again. It’s not a ghost though-- at least it thinks it’s not.

-- It is a question, not one of ill intent. But curiosity. Confusion even. A gentle voice, and yet not a voice. It was like... many letters of a foreign language being plucked from the air and placed beside the human’s mind, offered in an odd, though amalgamated form-- words and feelings able to be comprehended by the living. A thought? And yet... Not quite. Something else. Something... different... ah, bother... to explain it would be too difficult. Anyone else in the room probably would have “heard” it too, at least. But it was just them, so they did not... Only she. And that was okay. She was curious too.

The shape of the cat is gone, and now the dark wispy form of a dog sits in that other room, eyes of light staring out of the window from the corner. Watching as children run across the street, yipping and laughing to themselves. The Thing of interest was not them.... but it was closer now. In this room, maybe? He waits where he is though. Guarded by the shade of the half drawn curtains. It wasa peaceful little home, wasn’t it? It’s tail flicks back and forth, gently like a plume of smoke. Passing through the leg of the side table, causing a bit of a wobble to the object atop it. 

[thegreenmetblue]

the heart wants what it wants

When peter got that e-mail saying he was invited to an engagement party, he didn’t imagine it would be from the man he’s been having an affair for 5 months.

yayy! i finally translated a second fic i wrote like two years ago djkdkdk its a short one, around 10k but im glad im finally done translating it 😋 i hope yall will enjoyyy

Peter has been staring at Tony and Pepper for almost 15 minutes now. He’s been there for… 15 minutes and he’s already asking himself why the fuck did he come. Tony and Pepper invited him. Of fucking course Pepper was gonna invite him but Tony… Tony should have pretexted something. Anything. He could have told Pepper that the boy had a school trip this week, or any damn lie he could have found. But no, and instead, the billionaire sent him an invitation to their engagement party through mail, saying that’d make him happy to see Peter there. Happy. What in the world would make Tony happy about Peter being there ? In 15 minutes, Peter just got Tony waving at him with his glass of champagne when he got there. And nothing more. Did he even think about Peter ? Did he even told himself, even once, that the boy would feel so freaking broken ?

So Peter’s just there, staring at Tony who’s talking with his fiancee. Those words echo in his head and crush his poor heart. His fiancee. The worst thing about all of this is that Peter learned it in that damn mail. Tony didn’t even had the courage to tell him face to face. So the boy came, but he already knows he’s not gonna stay.

His eyes are tied up to the man. And even if he’s mad at him, even if he’s completely crushed, he can’t help his breath stoppping while looking at Tony. He’s just so gorgeous… And it’s not fair. Because he’s sure that Pepper doesn’t love him as much as Peter does. Tony and him… He doesn’t know what they are, but they are something. And he knew Tony would do anything to deny it, to prove Peter nothing will ever really happen anymore, but he didn’t think the man would go this far, that he would marry Pepper…

Peter’s heart skips a beat when he sees the blonde woman pointing him to Tony. Shit. They’re coming here.

Pepper looks happy, Tony looks stranded and Peter just wanna run away. ”Peter, hi!”, Pepper says as Peter tries not to wince too much.

“Hi, Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark.”, he answers, being very careful not to call Pepper Ms. Stark.

“Kid.”, Tony greats him, avoiding directly looking at him. Kid. Peter wishes Tony would choke on that nickname.

“How are you ?”, the blonde woman asks him, a faint motherly smile on her face. Peter would almost feel bad for her. He doesn’t deserve this, but neither does she. But… It’s still her the lucky one tho get Tony Stark at the end of the day.

“Im fine, thanks. What about you ? Are you two excited ?”, the boy asks. Pepper answers but Peter isn’t listening because Tony is finally looking at him. And Peter looses himself in those gorgeous eyes. Peter always loses himself in those gorgeous eyes. “Did Tony help you with the dress part ?”

Peter’s head turns to the blonde woman again. She’s pretty. He must look like nothing compared to her… His eyebrows frown when Pepper’s question finally echoes in his head. “Uh no. It was Ben’s…”

In mirror with Pepper, he turns his head towards the billionaire. “Didn’t you tell me you were taking care of that part ?”, she asks and Peter sees Tony sighing and closing his eyes. Tony has been avoiding him for almost two months now. It’s surely not him who would have helped him choosing a suit for tonight.

“Yup, I did but wearing his uncle’s was more symbolic, right Pete ?”, Tony says with a serene smile. Peter asks himself how the man can lie like that. And more importantly, how can he sleep at nights. He isn’t even looking at the boy, he’s so already sure that Peter is gonna walk in his lie. But Peter’s hurt that Tony didn’t help him. He’s hurt that Tony has been ignoring him for way too long because he wasn’t able to face him. And he’s crushed by the fact the man is marrying Pepper.

“Actually, I don’t really remember you offering your help on this one, Sir.”, he answers, a bit insolent. Tony’s eyes lock hardly on him. Pepper stares at him, then stares Peter and sighs. “Im sorry, he was supposed to. But you wear that one perfectly well, Peter. Im sure your uncle’d think so too.”, she apologizes, putting her hand on Tony’s waist. Peter’s eyes follow the blonde’s hand and chokes.

“That’s… That’s okay, Im happy to wear Ben’s suit. Especially for an event like this. I guess that’s not every day that Tony Stark and Pepper Potts get engaged, right ?”, he chuckles with a fake smile. He’s doing too much. But maybe doing too much is better than letting the two of them see how he really feels.

“Uh Pep, I forgot to tell you, but that hot redhair one were looking for you.”, Tony finally informs and Peter’s heart skips a beat. He knew that was coming.

“Oh okay. You sure you alright, you seem tense ?”

Peter wants to laugh. This whole situation is so fucked up. Tony nods and pretexts something about being tired from having worked too late in the lab yesterday night. Sure.

Pepper looks at him, not surprised but a bit annoyed. “Of course you were, where else.”, she grumbles, probably more for herself than for Tony. “Gonna search for Rose. See you two later.”, she adds before getting away. Peter pretends to look at her leaving, cause he knows Tony’s eyes are on him again.

“Can we have a word, please ?”, Tony asks. asks… as if Peter could refuse.

“Oh so now you’re talking to me again ?”, the boy bites and he wished he sounded more angry and less hurt.

“Peter…”, Tony whispers and Peter sighs in defeat. He really doesn’t have a choice anyway. “What you wanna talk about, Sir ?”

“Not here, just follow me okay ?” Peter follows Tony god-only-knows-where. He can already picture his heart being crushed in million pieces at the end of that party.

continue to ao3

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

TW: mentions of blood/bodily harm

The following is a transcript between Thatcher Davis and [REDACTED] Heathcliff, recorded on September 22nd, 1992 on Heathcliff’s account of the recent disappearances of Mark Heathcliff and Cesar Torres. It is to be noted that Heathcliff has chosen to stay anonymous to the public, requesting to have her name censored on all public documentations of this event outside of classified MCPD files. Interview goes as follows:

[DAVIS BEGINS RECORDING, AUDIBLY SIGHS.]

Davis: State your name for the record.

Heathcliff: [REDACTED] Heathcliff.

Davis: Do you know why you’re here today?

Heathcliff: It’s…because of my son, isn’t it…

[ANONYMOUS OFFICER IN THE ROOM SPEAKS]: I’m sure you’re aware of his recent disappearance, along with his friend, correct?

[HEATHCLIFF REMAINS SILENT.]

[NAME REDACTED]: Do you know of anything that might’ve…gone wrong between them, Miss Heathcliff?

Heathcliff: They…they were best friends, Mark…he…didn’t have many people like that; Cesar was like…a brother to him.

Davis: He was at the Torres household a few nights before Cesar’s disappearance, correct?

Heathcliff: I believe so.

Davis: Do you know why?

Heathcliff: It was a visit…staying the night.

Davis: Visiting…for what reason?

Heathcliff:…He…mentioned that he wanted to talk to Cesar. He didn’t say what he wanted to talk to him about.

[DAVIS WRITES ANSWERS DOWN. OFFICER IN THE ROOM SPEAKS]

[REDACTED]: You mentioned that your son has been acting…strangely, correct?

Heathcliff: Yes…but…not violent.

[REDACTED]: I wasn’t implying he was. Why do you mention that?

Davis: I can take care of this myself, [REDACTED].

Heathcliff: I-I don’t know, he just…felt…I don’t know.

Davis: Can you describe these behaviors?

[HEATHCLIFF REMAINS SILENT FOR AROUND FIVE SECONDS, PRESUMABLY THINKING.]

Heathcliff: He…seemed more distant; more than usual.

[REDACTED]: Do you believe it has to do with his diagnose?

Heathcliff: He…never acted that way before. He liked staying in his room and kept to himself but…it almost seemed like he was…avoiding everyone, even his sister. Though, I don’t…think his depression had to do with it.

Davis: Is there anything else you’d like to mention, regarding these changes in behavior?

Heathcliff:…He started…sleepwalking. Knocking on his sister’s door and…talking, though I never knew what he was saying.

[DAVIS SIGHS AND SLIDES NOTEBOOK TOWARDS HEATHCLIFF]

Davis: This seemed to have belonged to Mark, is that correct?

Heathcliff: Yes. He liked writing in a journal…it was a suggestion by his therapist.

[DAVIS GOES TO SPEAK BUT IS INTERRUPTED.]

[REDACTED]: There are multiple entries inside that imply that he and Torres’s friendship was starting to become potentially toxic. Were you aware of this?

Heathcliff: N…no.

[REDACTED]: Ma’am, it seems that…Mark had…been feeling bitter towards Cesar shortly before his disappearance, stating things like “he won’t listen to me” or “he’s ignoring me” and similar things.

[HEATHCLIFF APPEARS WORRIED, AND REMAINS SILENT.]

[REDACTED]: If you don’t mind me asking…was Mark a particularly…violent person?

Heathcliff: He…n-no, he wasn’t. He…got into a few fights at school, but he wasn’t naturally violent or-

[REDACTED]: Ma’am, that could be a sign of an underlying problem. You mentioned on his report that he had problems regulating his emotions, including anger. It could be possible that he was particularly angry at Cesar that night, the night the supposed visit took place.

Heathcliff: My son is not a murderer. I came here hoping that you could stop all the rumors going around town that my son is some sort of…twisted psychopath. Do you know how many calls I get, yelling at me about how my son killed one of the most popular kids in school?

[REDACTED]: Now, I’m not making any conclusions, I’m simply stating that…it’s certainly possible.

Davis: I’ll take care of this myself, [REDACTED]. You’re free to leave.

[REDACTED]:…Lieutenant, I must-

Davis: That is an order.

[OFFICER LEAVES THE ROOM, SHUTTING DOOR BEHIND HIM.]

Davis: Apologies…as I was saying, your son—

Heathcliff: It doesn’t matter what I say, does it?

Davis: Pardon?

Heathcliff: No matter what, you’re going to…pin all of this on Mark, aren’t you?

[HEATHCLIFF APPEARS TO BE HOLDING BACK TEARS.]

Davis:…No. Not enough evidence to pin anything on anyone. Your son is not being accused of anything…I’ll make sure of that.

Heathcliff: Your friend seems to disagree…

Davis: Are there…any…particular events you’d like to mention before we wrap our conversation up?

[HEATHCLIFF AVOIDS EYE CONTACT. APPEARS NERVOUS.]

[THERE IS SILENCE FOR AROUND 10 SECONDS BEFORE DAVIS CLOSES FOLDER]

Davis: Then I suppose you’re free to—

Heathcliff: Yes.

[DAVIS PAUSES AND SITS BACK DOWN.]

Davis: Can you…describe them?

Heathcliff: He…for a period he…God. He was so…polite.

Davis: That sounds…like a good thing.

Heathcliff: Not this time, no. He was…too polite, before that he was so cold and…irritable, but for a day straight he was so…soulless. I don’t know what got into him; Sarah even told me he was banging on her door one night…asking her to…follow him somewhere.

Davis: Did she tell you where?

[HEATHCLIFF REMAINS SILENT.]

Davis: Did Mark say where he wanted Sarah to go?

Heathcliff:…Home.

[DAVIS WRITES ACCOUNT OF EVENTS DOWN.]

Heathcliff: It all ended when…I…oh God…opened his bedroom door.

Davis: What did you see?

Heathcliff: He was…kneeled on the ground…almost like he was…praying. But he wasn’t, he was…biting his hands until they bled. There was blood all over his face and arms and…I don’t…I didn’t know what to do—

Davis: It’s alright, Mrs. Heathcliff. Was he…typically this…self-destructive?

Heathcliff: No. I…don’t…believe so. After that he seemed…normal. As normal as he had been lately.

Davis: Ma’am, you have been told of the gun found in his nightstand, correct?

Heathcliff:…yes.

Davis: Do you believe he may have been…contemplating—

Heathcliff: I wish to go now.

[DAVIS PAUSES.]

Davis:…Very well. I believe we’re done here. Contact me if you have anything else you’d like to mention.

[HEATHCLIFF REMAINS SILENT AS DAVIS RETRIEVES EVIDENCE FROM THE TABLE. DAVIS FLINCHES.]

Davis: What did you say?

Heathcliff: I…didn’t say anything.

[SILENCE FOR AROUND FIVE SECONDS. DAVIS APPEARS PERTURBED.]

Davis: Very well…you’re…free to go.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

Notes: Will investigate the Torres household with Ruth in three days. There has to be something more to this case, I know it. I’m not letting a young man be blamed for a crime he didn’t commit.

I heard something. I know I did. But it didn’t sound like her.

[emeraldcitynerdfighter]

I'm crying (not laugh crying, but truly crying) at the headcanon my brain supplied for #33 on your fic prompt list, which gave the picture of one of them being interviewed for a retrospective piece and talking about the other who has died prior to this. Set in the gusts universe. No I do not want to think further about which one of them is doing the interview

OH.

OH nO.

oh this is so delicious

//

(set in the 'gusts' universe, many years after the conclusion of the story)

A farmhouse. Unassuming, old, not unkempt. Obvious signs of life, of the love bursting through the faded paint. Everyone knew it was home to two of baseball's greatest.

Except now it's just one.

She's escorted into the sitting room by her daughter, who eyes the writer with suspicion, but soon excuses herself to retrieve coffee and pie.

The writer settles across from her, pulling out a small recording device.

"Whenever you're ready."

With wrinkled, calloused hands, she fiddles with a thin gold ring around a finger on her left hand.

"It's a shame when things, when people, go too soon."

//

WHEW. This certainly was a CHOICE, Nonnie. Since it was equally Very Sad to think about which one would be doing the interview...I'll just leave it open :)

[freebreadmoon]

is there anyway you can write a cute, fluffy little story for Walker Scobell?

YES OMG I HAVENT BEEN ACTIVE BC I HAVE MIDTERMS

warnings: fluff, reader plays annabeth (i love leah dont come for me), no use of y/n, reader and walker aren’t dating but are obvi crushing

requests are open!!

You and Walker were filming a buzzfeed puppy interview, sitting in the middle of the floor.

Walker sat with his legs crisscrossed, smiling wide at the brown spotted dog that nuzzled his leg. “Is it on? Oh, hi, I’m Walker Scobell, and I play Percy Jackson.”

“Hi,” you introduced yourself, “I play Annabeth Chase,” you picked up the fluffy fured black one that was by your foot, “and your watching buzzfeed!” You put a thumbs up at the camera, earning a laugh from the boy beside you.

“Wait I wanted to say it, I’m literally the main character—“

“But I’m the best character. Walker, you can say it at Vanity Fair.” He rolled his eyes at you, smiling slightly.

“Okay, moving on! um…what’s the question? What was your favorite scene to film…um…oh thats a hard one. I’m gonna say…either the fight with the Ares kids in capture the flag, or falling out of the arch. The harness thing was annoying to put on, but the other parts were fun.” Walker was only half paying attention, preoccupied by the dogs.

“I think the tunnel of love scene, or the one where Annabeth pushes Percy in the water, ‘cause I got to push Walker really hard.” You glanced at him, watching the smile curl onto his face.

“Yeah. We did like 15 takes of that because she kept laughing.” Walker laughed, shaking his head. “Actually, she laughed a lot. We had to retake lots of stuff ‘cause of her, especially the tunnel of love scene. The boat flipped and she wouldn’t stop laughing.” He shifted closer to you, messing with the puppy you’re holding.

“Oh! the next question…what’s your opinion on each other? Um…walker is the best blonde dude ever i think. like he’s literally my kid i swear, and he was honestly the best choice for percy. i think he’s the reason i even got to be annabeth, im really greatful for him. Aryan is super sweet and cool, he’s my best best friend, we do the stupidest things together, and I can’t imagine a world we aren’t honorary siblings.” You scratched behind a puppy’s ear, letting it lick you.

“Well I was just gonna say you’re awesome but…I guess I think we make a great team on-screen as well as off-screen. She’s a true friend. If it weren't for her, I don't know what I'd do, y'know? She’s like my very own real life Annabeth." He glanced up at you subtly, wanting to gauge your reaction, smiling in victory when he noticed the red tint to your cheeks.

“The…the next one says, how do you feel about fan support? is it overwhelming? Well, my answer is yes, sometimes. Especially with people who are really like into the book to the point where they hated the casting over looks.” You had started to speak a lot quieter as Walker drifted closer, trying to get the puppy off your lap.

“I don’t think much of it.” Walker shurgs. “Only really the edits that I see anyway, those are fun.” He smiles encouragingly at you , finally meeting your eyes.

“…Yeah. The edits.” You smile at him, referring to the ship edits. You’d talked about it in multiple interviews, and you had a favorites folder for them on Tiktok. You raised an eyebrow at Walker, who continued to move closer until his head was on your lap, giggling softly and starting pet his hair like you did the puppys fur.

“Okay, last question…have there been any memorable moments on set? Um…probably when i first met her. I just got the feeling she was gonna be Annabeth, she gave me this ‘what is he doing?’ Look, and it just clicked.” He stayed with his head on your lap, turning so his head is on your stomach when puppies come and attack him with licks.

“They think you’re one of them!” You push him off a little so the puppies can get to him. “And my answer…um…I think when Walker gave me the piece of banana that was in my hair in the show. He kinda just tied it in and left my set trailer, and it stuck. So if you guys wondered what the weird blue fabric in Annabeth’s hair was, it was not in fact a design choice, it was a Percy choice.” You turn so the camera can see the small braid in your hair with the bandanna piece at the end.

“And Percy’s got one too, if you look hard enough.” He lifts one of his feet, showing the vans he wore during filming, and the flimsy piece of bandanna tied through his top shoe hole. You shake your head, laughing at his insistence in staying with his head in your lap.

While you layed on his bed, you scrolled through your fyp, stopping when you see the familiar scene of you two in the buzzfeed room, with his head in your lap. Nodding your head to the song in the edit as you scrolled through the comments.

“IRL percabeth?” He questioned from beside you. You looked at him, not realizing he had started paying attention to you, jumping to get your phone from him.

“No, I’m commenting! And reposting!” He laughed, rolling away from you. You got off the bed behind him, giving up taking the phone and blinking when he simply commented ‘real’.

“Well, so much for ‘it’ll blow over’.” You rolled your eyes, knowing the dating allegations will only get worse after this. Walker smiled triumphantly, waiting for the responses to come in.

taglist: @persassyxo @diorlorenzo @ilovewalkerscobell @paytonthereader @platypusbearrr @kissatelier @riptidelor

[magics-neptunes-things]

Calm After Storm

Hi guys!

It was way too long since I didn't write for Leah, so here is a sweet little thing.

I'm so happy Arsenal won yesterday, even if I almost cry three times and had two hearts attacks. And of course I think about Frida, hopping she's ok :(

TW : Lover fight, Angst.

______________________________________________________________

Leah is intense. Always have, always been and that’s how you love her. You love how much she can be passionate about everything she’s doing. You love her love for football, for her family, for her friends. She is always here to help her relatives for everything. She’s here for her grandmother when she needs help for groceries, she’s here when her mother can’t walk their dog, she’s here to get her brother to the airport at 8 in the morning even if she played a game the night before, she’s here to support her teammates through injuries.

She’s everywhere she can be, at every time.

You, in another hand, you’re calmer. You’re a little shy and need some time to observe the people you don’t know before opening up. You are as affectionate and attentive to your loved one than Leah, but in a more discreet way.

Those differences are the meanly reasons of why you didn’t understand at first why Leah seems interested in you. You met her thanks to your friend Lotte and Leah took the time to talk to you every time you came to watch Lotte plays. When Leah did her ACL, she attends almost every game, and you talk a lot during this time. That’s where she asks you out for the first time, after having asking Lotte if you are into girls.

You said yes, obviously.

If you didn’t think that Leah must be interested in you, you were deeply charmed by the personality of the blonde. She’s funny, intelligent, great to talk to and you have a lot in common. And yes, you must admit that you find her unbelievably attractive. Like almost half of the population but hey, you’re just a girl.

Leah kissed you at your second date. She asks you at the fourth to be her girlfriend and introduce you to her family after six months of dating. Of course, they already have known about you. And you knew them thanks to the Arsenal VIP room. But it was the first official diner with the Williamson and relatives.

You are not living together for now, but you find yourself a lot at each other’s house. You love being at Leah’s, everything smells like her. But she loves being at your house too. At Christmas, Leah gave you the keys of her house and you gave her the keys of your flat.

You love her, a lot. And you know that she loves you back, even if those precious words were never pronounced to each other. At least you both know that you care for each other. A lot.

That doesn’t mean you never fight, to be honest. Not later than yesterday, you had a really stupid argument about something really stupid. But with Leah’s stress about football and her comeback and your proper tiredness thanks to your job, it was sometimes happening. Some means words were exchanged, and Leah ended up leaving your flat, slamming your door.

Stubbornly, you decided not to write to her. In your opinion, she was wrong, and it was even more wrong to leave the way she did. You were hurt a little bit too, by the argument and after by the fact that Leah didn’t call you or at least send you a message. Not the same night, not the day after.

Almost two days later, you still didn’t have talk to each other. You ask casually to Lotte how Leah is doing when you have her on the phone. But your cousin answers that she was Switzerland in your love life and that she didn’t want to be involved in anything. Unless it’s for marriage or children. So, basically, you don’t know how Leah is today.

You saw the video and the pictures posted by Arsenal’s admin on Instagram, but that’s all. You choose not to go to the game, not sure that Leah wants you here. It’s an important game though, so you decide to watch it on TV. Leah’s starting and it’s strange to see your girlfriend’s face on your TV screen. She’s focused, her glare well fixed on her face. Her blue eyes are piercing her opponents.

But that doesn’t help Arsenal to win today. It wasn’t a big loss, but it was a loss anyway. Leah seems particularly sad, and you feel your heart cracks. So, you decided to jump in a jean, in your car and to go to Arsenal’s stadium. Leah gave you a pass to access to the parking lot, so you just use it to get in it.

You know that Leah went to the game with Beth, so you’re not surprised not to see her car. But, when you get out from yours, you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable. What if Leah doesn’t want you here? Maybe your idea wasn’t as good as you thought at first. You almost decided to leave when Leah passes the door.

She’s looking at the ground, not listening to Beth or Laia Codina who are walking with her. The other blond spots you first and elbows Leah who looks at her. Beth then points in your direction and when Leah spots you too, she seems as surprised as she is relieved.

You don’t move, only waving shyly at her. She gives you a little smile in return, turning into Beth to says her something. You don’t know what it is, but Beth rolls her eyes and push Leah in her direction with her hand before mimic a kick in the ass.

“Hello” you say softly when Leah is next to you.

“Hi” breaths Leah.

You reach out to take her bag, putting it on the back seat of your car. Then you went to opens Leah’s door, but you cross her eyes, and she seems so upset that you can’t do nothing against that. So, you reach out to her again, so that she can grasp it this time. And, when Leah almost jumps on your hand, you take her delicately against you. She hugs you back, putting her face in your neck almost immediately.

“You played good” you whisper after some seconds.

“You weren’t here to watch” Leah objects, her face still in your neck.

“I watched you on TV.”

At your explanation, Leah pushes herself even more against you and you tighten your arms against her. No one like to lose obviously, but you’ve never seen someone with such an ability to take all the blame on themselves. You know that tomorrow, Leah would pass half of her day watching the game, analyzing her mistakes and noting them in her notebook. You hate that damn notebook.

“You still watched me?”

You can’t help but smile, hearing how small your girlfriend is when asks you that question. Leah Williamson, captain of England and Euro champion looks like a little girl right now. No one ever saw this part of Leah, or her mother only maybe. But you do.

“Of course.”

You could have tease her and answering that you wanted to watch Katie, but it wasn’t really the good timing. Leah takes a deep breath and release you, looking attentively at your face before trying another smile. You smile back and stroke her hair before nodding at your car.

“Can I take you home?”

“I’d love to.”

You don’t really talk during the journey to your house, but Leah captures your hand in hers almost immediately. She strokes your fingers and plays with your ring all along, looking out by the window. You let her, knowing with time that she needs some quiet sometimes to figuring things out.

When you get out of your car, you take Leah’s bag with one hand, your girlfriend’s hand with the other and go to the ascensor. In it, you can smell Leah’s shampoo and that’s make you smile. The blonde surprise your smile in the mirror of the ascensor and you just shrug. She doesn’t have the time to question you though, the doors opening just after.

“Do you want to order pizzas? Or I can go to Tesco to take you a ham sandwich if you prefer?”

“Nah, pizza is good Babe. Don’t worry”

You let Leah orders your diner, using this time to wash her dirty laundry before heading back to the living room. Leah had made herself comfortable, lying on your couch. But she stands when she spots you, making you frown.

“We need to talk. About our fight.”

You feel your face fall, hopping to never discuss your fight again. You hate fighting with Leah, and you hate the way you feel after. You were hopping that you can have like a silence contract to forget it. Plus, the We need to talk sentence is never really good. But Leah seems to understand really fast what’s happening in your head, because she takes your hand when she sits down on the couch again, taking you with her. You are almost sitting on her lap when she talks again.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t even remember why the fight start, but I shouldn’t have left like that. It was childish and I’m really sorry. Are you still angry with me?”

You shook your head negatively, relieved to learn that Leah doesn’t want to break up or something like that.

“No, I’m not. To be honest, the same night I was more sad to sleep without you than angry.”

“Why didn’t write me?” Leah asks with curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure you’d answer me and I was afraid I’d be even sadder.”

Leah sighs softly, stroking your back. Her eyes are looking at you with intensity and you bite unconsciously your lip.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Leah asks you soon after.

You nod, taking advantage of your position to cuddle against her. Leah puts her chin on top of your head, and you can hear her heart when she talks again.

“I was sad too. I was hopping you will come to the game but when I didn’t see you, I realize how much I fucked up. And after the game, all I was thinking is that I will have to deal with the loss all alone. Almost everyone was going home to their partner and mine was probably angry at me. I just wanted to go home and hide under the cover. When I saw you in the parking lot, I was thinking of the best way to apologize and get you back. I knew it was my fault, but it didn’t ease the sadness of it, it was even worse I think.”

“Don’t say that” you mumble “It was my fault too. We were both arguing.”

Leah hums and you look up at her before kissing her cheek. It was nice to know how much your presence means to Leah whether it’s during the games or at home. You love being here for her obviously.

“But we’re good now, right?”

Leah smiles, with her real smile and you feel your heart fluttered.

“We’re good, my girl.”

Then you kiss her for the first time since the fight and you get lost in your embrace. The kiss is sweet, tender and you feel like floating somewhere above the ground. Maybe your exchange will change in something more passionate if your pizzas weren’t already here.

You eat them in front of the TV, but still cuddling against each other. Leah finishes her pizza first and takes you more against her soon after. She kisses your cheek several times, not really interested in the movie she picks before. When you feel teeth against the skin of your neck, you decide to forget your meal to roll on your girlfriend.

Leah smirks, happy to have all your attention and catch your lips in an intense kiss. You whimper, surprise by the intensity of it but didn’t waist time to answer it.

“Thanks for coming for me tonight.”

Leah whispers it way later, when you were under the cover of your bed, almost asleep. The pizzas were eaten, you forgot the movie to better activities and after that you took a hot bath.

 Leah’s body is warm against yours and you hum at first for only answer.

“My pleasure” you mumble, half-hiding your face in her.

You yawn and Leah start scratching your neck, just like she knows you like. You only need thirty seconds to fall asleep after that. Leah needs a little more time, but she watches you sleep to pass time. She knows she’s lucky to have you and she swears to herself not to leave you angry anymore.