#Fanego

[ojo-rojo]

Sofía Fanego: "El beso".

[loueale]

[eldiadelatromba]

[luegootravez]

Sofía Fanego by © Christoph Wohlfahrt

[sammys-magical-au]

When the Eldrich Meets the Ethereal, part 2!

Posting short fics like this is starting to become a habit 😅 not that I’m complaining, this is fun!

This is a follow-up fic from When the Eldrich Meets the Ethereal, which was a gift to my good friend @wouldntyou-liketoknow, and to her fic that was a sequel to mine, Talking in Your Sleep. (I’d highly recommend reading these before you read this if you haven’t already 😉)

The characters of LeviathanPat and Sylphanie both belong to her, but the rest are my own, save for Jack Harkness and Toshiko Sato from Torchwood, who are briefly mentioned (also, this short fic contains mild spoilers for Torchwood: The Alternate Universe season 4, if you’ve been following that series, so read with caution)

Warnings include nightmares and descriptions of body horror, and with that out of the way, let’s get into it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I… have to go away for a little while,” Sam had said - all the while avoiding direct eye contact, “I’m not sure where exactly, but… I’ll know everything by the time I get back.”

Jay knew by now that when they phrased it like that, it wasn’t a mission Jack had sent them on. Sam was either following a gut feeling, or someone else - someone who existed between plains of reality and was nearly older than humanity itself - had asked her to go.

The latter option always made Jay’s guts twist with anger. There was something about Harmonia and the Ancient Ones asking Sam to do things for them on a whim that just irked him - even if Sam didn’t seem to mind or even seemed happy to do whatever they asked.

Jay just didn’t like the fact that his spouse could be controlled so easily like this. No one told Sam what to do, not even ethereal beings from the beginning of the universe. Jay knew that well enough, but Sam seemed to have forgotten…

Maybe she’d just mellowed over the years. The absence of constant abuse and religious trauma making her more likely to simply follow instructions from “spiritual higher-ups”, so to speak.

Even if that was the case, Jay still wasn’t sure he liked it.

He was distracted from his thoughts, however, when his and Sam’s daughter, Alexa, cautiously walked into the living room.

“Alexa?” He asked softly, “what’s the matter, dear?”

“It’s nothing,” Alexa murmured, giving him a smile that he knew was forced, “just… Dad… does it feel a little cold to you?”

Jay blinked. Now that he thought about it… there did seem to be a chill - the kind of chill that you knew without investigating had spread throughout the whole house, which was especially unusual considering the warm, tropical evening outside.

“It does…” he answered Alexa.

“Might be Rift stuff,” Alexa said, “should I text Jack or Aunt Tosh?”

“Not right yet,” Jay replied slowly, “we’ll just wait and see if anything happens first.”

Alexa paused at this, phone in her hands and thumbs presumably poised over the keypad. Then she nodded.

“Okay.” She said quietly.

“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” Jay assured her, “I’m sure it’s nothing. You know better than me that sometimes weird things happen around a Rift - especially this one.”

Alexa nodded again, but didn’t say anything more.

Jay knew she was still on edge - and he couldn’t blame her, he was too, something definitely felt off in the air tonight.

He just hoped it didn’t have anything to do with Sam, and that she was alright.

~~~

“...𝖂𝒽𝖆𝓉 𝓀𝖎𝓃𝖉 𝖔𝒻 ℊ𝖆𝓂𝖊 𝖉ℴ 𝓎𝖔𝓊 𝓉𝖍𝒾𝖓𝓀 𝓎𝖔𝓊'𝓇𝖊 𝖕𝓁𝖆𝓎𝖎𝓃𝖌?…”

Sam sat bolt upright in the hotel bed with a loud gasp, hand instinctively reaching for The Lion’s Breath - even though it had all been a dream, and it wasn’t like the sword would’ve done much to protect them, they felt like they needed it.

They sat there in the dark, panting and sweating and pointing the sword at a non-existent enemy, for a good five minutes before their frantic heartbeat finally began to slow down.

Allowing The Lion’s Breath to transform back into the simple bracelet they typically disguised it as (they weren’t sure they were comfortable just setting it aside at the moment), Sam reached out through the dark with their other hand until the cotton sheets turned to soft, warm fur.

Zephyr stirred slightly as their fingers reached her, shuffling a little closer to her owner in her sleep, but didn’t wake. Sam slowly lay back down beside her, pressing their body into the massive feline’s shape and realizing they were shaking - although that might’ve been from the sudden dry coldness in the room, one that Sam was certain hadn’t been there when they’d arrived back at the hotel.

Now that they were awake, they could remember that finding their way back here hadn’t been much trouble at all. Though they did faintly recall looking back in the direction they were certain that The Abnormal Orchard had been in and not being able to see it. Although, after having gotten a good look at Pat in the dream, they had an easier time believing that was just some clever trick of reality the eldrich being had pulled - whether it was specifically to freak Sam out or just something he always did.

As harrowing as the conversation with Pat had been, along with the frightening knowledge that a creature one could only imagine in their wildest nightmares actually existed out there… it wasn’t just that that was bothering Sam. Something about the appearance of his supposed counterpart, who’s name Sam didn’t dare try to think of in case it melted their brain, had equally chilled them to the bone.

Seeming to sense their nervous thoughts, Zephyr nuzzled into them with a sleepy rumble, and Sam finally felt themself begin to actually relax, though the strange coldness in the air didn’t seem to want to subside at all.

Their back was now facing the window, and even though they weren’t exactly happy with that, they’d much rather be cuddling Zephyr than facing away from her. Even if it meant being more vulnerable to whatever was outside.

If only you could twist your neck all the way around without breaking it like Pat. A small part of them joked, and they almost laughed. The only thing that stopped them from it was the shiver that ran up their spine at the memory of Pat taunting them in the dream-that-really-hadn’t-felt-like-a-dream, head twisting at unnatural angles as he spoke. Jesus, that fucker was creepy, and they knew he liked that Sam thought that of him. But for some reason, right now he didn’t hold a candle to the ethereal being who had suddenly shown up - Pat definitely knew her, but hadn’t been expecting to see her.

Something about the way she’d made Pat simply disappear, the way she’d looked at Sam with all those eyes of hers… she was almost scarier than Pat.

Did Harmonia know her? Sam wished they could ask her, but to contact the Ancient Ones they’d have to go back to sleep, and right now there was no way in hell they were doing that.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught Sam’s eye, and they glanced up to stare at the wall of the hotel room.

Nothing moved, and the wall was cast in darkness - not even the moon outside was at the right angle to shine any light through the window.

For some reason, that was a hundred times worse than seeing anything.

Just as the feeling of uneasiness started to pass, Sam saw it again. A tiny pinpoint of radiant light dancing across the wall.

This time it didn’t disappear immediately, and Sam sat up to peer at it, leaning over Zephyr’s sleeping form.

The tiger stirred, but still didn’t wake.

The tiny speck of light kept shimmering and bouncing up and down against the room’s nasty yellow wallpaper (ironic that it was that color, considering how Sam felt right now), even ever so slightly seeming to grow in size.

At first, Sam wasn’t sure what the hell to even make of it, until they remembered that light typically didn’t just randomly appear on surfaces without an outside source.

Outside…

Slowly, with a sense of dread creeping into their bones, Sam turned their head around to look out the window.

Despite the darkness in the city outside, somewhere in the near distance, there was light. Glowing and ethereal, just like in Sam’s dream, just like… her. And it was moving, getting steadily closer as Sam watched, finding themself standing right next to the window without realizing they’d moved at all.

Now, Zephyr awoke, her head abruptly snapping up as if on command and a growl rumbling in her throat as her piercing peridot eyes searched the shadows of the room.

Sam glanced back at her, holding their hand up to signal her to stay put, and when they looked back to the window, the view of the city was blocked by a massive, luminous face.

~~~

Deep in the impossible jungle, a place so full of life and light and a sense of peace one might think they’d found the biblical Garden of Eden if they stumbled upon it, another great beast raised her head.

Harmonia swiveled her ears around, listening to the faint wind whisper through the trees. Something had definitely awoken her, and it had done so for a reason.

“Luca?” She called faintly into the night, but no reply came.

Regardless, the Leonasus stood from her nest and stretched, waiting for an answer to come to her.

That answer came in the form of Barsus, the Pronghorned Wolf, slinking out of the shadows of the trees, his amber eyes gleaming with a light of their own.

“Harmonia.” He rumbled, dipping his head in greeting. Harmonia copied the gesture.

“Barsus. What brings you here?”

“Can you not hear the voices in the wind? They have a message for you and I.”

Harmonia tilted her head at him.

“Us? Why us?” She asked, swishing her tail.

Barsus stared at her gravely.

“Because we are the only ones who ever met… her.”

The single word sent a shiver through Harmonia’s wings, and she instantly found herself in a vision - or perhaps more of a memory - of when she was no more than a cub.

Back then, the island now known as Saint Lucia had been dominated by the Ancient Ones, though it wouldn’t be for much longer.

Barsus was a little older than Harmonia, standing next to her on wobbly stilt-legs as she struggled to stand at all.

Harmonia couldn’t remember what had happened before or after this moment, only that the sky had suddenly turned dark - so dark even the light of the stars could not get through - and great balls of fire shot across it, as the ground shook with the distant sound of an agonized wail of despair.

The adults had begun murmuring to each other, all with worried looks on their faces, and a common name that was repeated over and over was a name Harmonia was not familiar with - “𝕾𝓎𝖑𝓅𝖍”.

Time seemed to pass quickly, but while fire still rained from the sky, a luminous figure appeared, a creature neither Barsus or Harmonia had ever seen before.

She was crying, tears of burning sunlight falling from her many eyes, and the adults all gathered around to comfort her as she wept, telling them of a terrible mistake and a lost love.

“Mama,” Barsus asked when his mother broke away from the group, having promised to hunt a Cloud Buffalo in the hopes that it might help calm this strange visitor, “who is she? Why is she so sad?”

Barsus’ mother simply glanced back over her shoulder at the despondent newcomer, a look of deep sadness in her amber eyes.

“She is a friend,” she answered finally, “a friend who needs our help. She has done something that has broken her own heart.”

“Can we help?” Harmonia had spoken up.

Barsus’ mother gazed fondly down at her for a moment, then smiled, nodding.

“Yes. Perhaps you can, if you go and sit by her.”

The two of them had made their way to the strange visitor’s side, Harmonia’s legs so wobbly that she hardly made it, but eventually a few of the visitor’s eyes had fallen on the little ones who had appeared next to her, and some of the pain in her expression seemed to ease.

“𝕺𝒽, 𝖑ℴ𝖔𝓀 𝒶𝖙 𝖞ℴ𝖚…” she cooed in a voice like howling hurricane winds, “𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖕𝓇𝖊𝒸𝖎ℴ𝖚𝓈 𝓉𝖍𝒾𝖓ℊ𝖘. 𝒰𝖓𝓉𝖔𝓊𝖈𝒽𝖊𝒹 𝒷𝖞 𝖙𝒽𝖊 𝖈𝓇𝖚ℯ𝖑𝓉𝖞 𝖔𝒻 𝒽𝖚𝓂𝖆𝓃𝖎𝓉𝖞.”

Back then, Barsus and Harmonia hadn’t known what “humanity” meant. That was before any human had ever set foot on this land.

Sometimes, Harmonia still wished she knew what Sylph had meant - although she had an idea.

Had humans destroyed her homeland too? Was that the heartbreak Barsus’ mother had spoken of?

It seemed like she might be finally getting an answer.

“She has returned.” Harmonia murmured, and Barsus dipped his head.

“She has.” He replied.

“But why?”

“That I am not sure of. But I feel that the universe wants us to know she is here for a reason.”

“Agreed. We must leave immediately. I had hoped Sam would have gotten home by now, but I could send one of the Guardian Cobras to relay a message to her family.”

“That seems like a good idea. I will wait here for your return.”

Barsus sat down in the tall grass where he stood, and Harmonia dipped her head to him before spreading her wings and leaping into the sky.

From above the treetops, she could see that the Tree of Life had taken on an unusual glow, slightly brighter to look at than normal. It almost hurt her eyes to gaze upon it for too long.

That was definitely a sign from the universe as well.

Harmonia wasn’t sure why Sylph had returned, but it seemed she might be in need of their help, and if that was the case, Harmonia would follow her parents’ teachings. Helping other beings was the way of the Ancient Ones, even when they themselves were much weaker than they had once been.

She only hoped that after all these thousands of years, Sylph remembered them all as well as they remembered her.

~~~

Jay was finding it hard to sleep.

He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was wrong - and even without it, it was still so damn cold in the house, cold enough that Jay was considering getting up and rummaging through the closet for his old long-sleeved pyjamas he’d bought when he, Sam, and their kids had still been living in Wales.

Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him. Sometimes the air in a room felt colder when under the covers just because the bed was so warm. That had to be the reason. Or maybe he was just overtired.

Jay took a deep breath that turned into a yawn, rolling over so his back faced the bedroom window.

The bed felt so empty without Sam. Now that he thought about it, not having his living-furnace of a spouse sleeping next to him might’ve also been contributing to the chill in the air. The only part of Sam’s body that didn’t radiate constant warmth was their feet, which were always cold, something their older brother Daniel had always said they should get checked out since it could mean they had poor circulation.

Sam would always roll their eyes when he said that, tell him they’d give him poor circulation if he didn’t leave them alone about it.

A smile had found its way onto Jay’s face as he thought of Sam. He could almost imagine them suddenly climbing into bed next to him after a late-night weevil round-up, snuggling up close to him and complaining about being dragged out of bed at this hour, pressing those cold toes of theirs in between his legs and making him shriek loudly enough to wake Athena in the nursery at the end of the hall.

Jay was startled from the half-fantasy, half-dream by the sound of the horses braying outside.

He had sat up in bed before he knew it, the vision of Sam being there shattering in the face of whatever had caused the horses such distress.

Throwing the covers off of him (and in doing so noting that the room was, in fact, still as cold as he’d expected it to be), Jay got out of bed and ran to the window, pushing it open to scan the yard for anything that might have disturbed the horses. However, their frantic neighing soon subsided. Jay could still hear them nickering to each other, but that sound was quickly replaced by something else.

Ssssssssssssss…

At first, Jay thought it was the wind in the palm trees outside. Their leaves were dry this time of year, so they usually made a hissing sound when the breeze picked up.

But then it came again, louder and closer than before.

Sssssssssssssssssss…

Jay stepped back from the window, frantically looking around. The noise seemed to be coming from everywhere at once - above, below, directly in front and behind him, his left and his right.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS…

The sound was now more like that of the steam coming out of a boiling pot who’s lid had just been lifted, or someone pretending to be a snake, or-

Jay froze.

Pretending to be a snake, or actually a snake? He thought.

The notion seemed ridiculous, since the sound had to be coming from something pretty big - larger than any animal besides maybe a blue whale could ever possibly be - but now that the thought of snakes had entered Jay’s head, he couldn’t deny that the organic hissing likely couldn’t have come from anything else.

His thoughts were confirmed when there was a dull scraaape from the balcony outside, followed by a faint creak as the door was pushed open.

Hiiiissssssssssss…

Jay fell back with a cry of fear, tripping over his feet and falling out into the hallway, landing hard enough to feel a sharp pain shoot up his spine from his tailbone as it hit the floor.

The long, shadowy form that had broken and entered into the bedroom slithered further across the floor, then raised its impossibly large head and blinked down at Jay with three massive, glowing yellow eyes.

Its forked tongue flicked out with another tiny hiss, and then, to Jay’s utter bewilderment, it spoke - without even opening its mouth.

“Do not be afraid, I do not come to bring you harm.”

Jay realized his mouth was opening and closing as he breathed heavily, but no words would come out.

“I am Serpentus,” the massive snake continued, “a friend of Harmonia, and of the human named Sam.”

That finally snapped Jay out of it. This was an Ancient One, not just some random talking snake.

That really should have been more obvious.

“Sam’s not here,” Jay replied steadily, with an edge to his voice, “Harmonia sent her away on some quest, or whatever you call it.”

Serpentus bobbed their head, and Jay realized they were nodding.

“That is why I am here. Something has occurred elsewhere on this planet tonight, and Harmonia had to leave to take care of it. She asked me to tell you so that Sam does not worry if they return before she does.”

As much as Jay was annoyed that this was the way the Ancient Ones were passing on this strange message, he knew Harmonia was right to suspect that Sam would worry if they came home and she had gone.

At least the Ancient Ones cared enough about Sam to ensure they wouldn’t worry needlessly - they’d done enough of that in their life, and not just over weird semi-mythical Rift-creatures, Jay knew that better than anyone.

He dipped his head briefly in respect.

“Thank you,” he murmured to Serpentus, “I’ll tell her that.”

Serpentus flicked their tongue out again, then wordlessly made to slither back out the way they’d come.

“Wait,” Jay said, “do you know if Sam’s alright? Has this… other thing Harmonia has to deal with affecting them?”

Serpentus blinked at him, head tilting to one side as their tongue poked back out and tested the air for a bit longer this time. Then they unhelpfully answered, “that, I do not know.”

~~~

Sam couldn’t help but scream and jump back from the window, just as Zephyr leaped from the bed and came to stand defensively next to them, still growling softly.

The massive face in the window remained impassive, thousands of eyes the color of smoky quartz all trained on Sam and their feline companion.

The being’s gaze focused on Zephyr, and slightly softened.

“𝕾𝓁𝖊ℯ𝖕 𝖓ℴ𝖜.” She murmured, and suddenly Zephyr had sunk to the floor in a ball, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“What did you do to her?!” Sam barked against their better judgment, defensiveness momentarily overcoming their fear.

The being’s eyes all slowly moved back to Sam.

“𝕯ℴ 𝓃𝖔𝓉 𝒷𝖊 𝖆𝒻𝖗𝒶𝖎𝒹,” she said, “𝖘𝒽𝖊 𝖎𝓈 𝒶𝖘𝓁𝖊ℯ𝖕, 𝓃𝖔𝓉𝖍𝒾𝖓ℊ 𝒸𝖆𝓃 𝒽𝖆𝓇𝖒 𝖍ℯ𝖗.”

Sam took a shuddering breath.

“Who… what are you?”

“𝕴 𝖆𝓂 𝒮𝖞𝓁𝖕𝒽.”

The last word was indiscernible, but it still sounded familiar.

“That’s what he called you.” Sam said, once again without thinking.

Pain momentarily flooded the being’s gaze, but quickly vanished.

“𝖄ℯ𝖘. ℒ𝖊𝓋𝖎𝒶𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓃 𝒶𝖓𝒹 ℐ… 𝖈ℯ𝖗𝓉𝖆𝒾𝖓𝓁𝖞 𝖘𝒽𝖆𝓇𝖊 𝖆 𝖍𝒾𝖘𝓉𝖔𝓇𝖞.” She said.

Sam wanted to say that based on what they’d seen, Pat and this being definitely shared much more than just “a history”, but decided against it.

An angry ethereal being was just as bad as an angry eldrich being, and by now Sam knew better than to tempt either.

Instead, they dipped their head respectfully.

“I see,” they murmured, “forgive me for not being courteous. Your presence here startled me.”

“𝕴 𝖈𝒶𝖓 𝖘ℯ𝖊 𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓉.” The ethereal being said, with a hint of annoyance. “𝕿𝒽𝖆𝓉’𝓈 𝓌𝖍𝓎 ℐ 𝒸𝖆𝓂𝖊 𝖍ℯ𝖗ℯ. 𝖄ℴ𝖚 𝖆𝓇𝖊 𝖎𝓃 𝒻𝖆𝓇 𝒶𝖇ℴ𝖛ℯ 𝓎𝖔𝓊𝖗 𝖍ℯ𝖆𝒹, 𝖑𝒾𝖙𝓉𝖑ℯ 𝒽𝖚𝓂𝖆𝓃. 𝖄ℴ𝖚 𝖉ℴ 𝓃𝖔𝓉 𝒷𝖊𝓁𝖔𝓃𝖌 𝖙𝒽𝖎𝓈 𝒸𝖑ℴ𝖘ℯ 𝓉𝖔 𝖘ℴ𝖒ℯ𝖙𝒽𝖎𝓃𝖌 𝖑𝒾𝖐ℯ ℒ𝖊𝓋𝖎𝒶𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓃.”

“I understand,” Sam replied, head still bowed, “but I think you may not know the reason I’m here. I was sent here by ethereals like yourself.”

“𝕿𝒽𝖊𝓃 𝓉𝖍ℯ𝖞 𝖘𝒽𝖔𝓊𝖑𝒹 𝓀𝖓ℴ𝖜 𝖇ℯ𝖙𝓉𝖊𝓇 𝓉𝖍𝒶𝖓 𝖙ℴ 𝒶𝖑𝓁𝖔𝓌 𝒶 𝒻𝖗𝒶𝖌𝒾𝖑ℯ 𝓂𝖔𝓇𝖙𝒶𝖑 𝖙ℴ 𝒸𝖔𝓂𝖊 𝖘ℴ 𝓃𝖊𝒶𝖗 𝖙ℴ 𝒶𝖓 𝖊𝓁𝖉𝓇𝖎𝒸𝖍 𝖊𝓃𝖙𝒾𝖙𝓎.”

Defensiveness flared inside Sam again.

“They sent me here to assure that they weren’t in danger. I am connected to them in ways that shield me from Pat. Besides, he said they might know you, if you are who I think you are.”

“𝕿𝒽𝖊𝓃 𝓉𝖊𝓁𝖑 𝖒ℯ - 𝓌𝖍ℴ 𝓈𝖊𝓃𝖙 𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖍ℯ𝖗ℯ?”

“The Ancient Ones.”

The world seemed to stop for a fraction of a second - and, considering who Sam was talking to, perhaps it actually did.

“𝕿𝒽𝖊 𝕬𝓃𝖈𝒾𝖊𝓃𝖙 𝕺𝓃𝖊𝓈…” the ethereal being echoed.

“That’s right,” Sam replied, finally finding the courage to look up into her face again, “I am bonded to the Ancient Ones, chosen by the universe itself to defend the space-time Rift they call home and assure that the balance of the cosmic energies in the galaxy remains intact. I wield the etherium sword named The Lion’s Breath, and I am The Queen of Hearts.”

The ethereal being stared at them for a moment longer.

“𝕿𝒽𝖊 𝕼𝓊𝖊ℯ𝖓 𝖔𝒻 ℋ𝖊𝒶𝖗𝓉𝖘,” she murmured finally, “𝖙𝒽𝖊 𝖕𝓇𝖔𝓅𝖍ℯ𝖘𝒾𝖊𝒹 𝓈𝖆𝓋𝖎ℴ𝖚𝓇 ℴ𝖋 𝖙𝒽𝖊 𝕬𝓃𝖈𝒾𝖊𝓃𝖙 𝕺𝓃𝖊𝓈. 𝕸𝓎 𝒶𝖕ℴ𝖑ℴ𝖌𝒾𝖊𝓈, 𝖞ℴ𝖚𝓇 𝓂𝖆𝒿𝖊𝓈𝖙𝓎.”

“Just ‘Sam’ is fine.” Sam replied with a wince.

It felt weird for an ethereal being to be calling them ‘your majesty’, even if Sam had been fond of the term in any way - which they weren’t. It was likely just a formality.

This being wouldn’t need to have any real respect for them, she wasn’t the one they were connected to.

“𝕾𝒶𝖒,” the being echoed, “𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖒𝒶𝖞 𝖈𝒶𝖑𝓁 𝓂𝖊… Sylphanie.”

Sam nodded respectfully.

“Sylphanie,” they repeated, “I’m glad there’s something I can call you that I can say without my brain melting through the roof of my mouth.”

To their surprise, Sylphanie laughed, though it sounded more like huge sheets of metal scraping together on a building site, or an old, rusty machine trying to do its job one last time before collapsing under its own weight.

“I’m here to ensure the safety of the Ancient Ones,” Sam explained when the sound died down, “they sensed your buddy’s presence nearby and wanted to make sure he wasn’t coming after them.”

“𝕿𝒽𝖊𝓃 𝓉𝖊𝓁𝖑 𝖙𝒽𝖊𝓂 𝓉𝖍ℯ𝖞 𝖍𝒶𝖛ℯ 𝓃𝖔𝓉𝖍𝒾𝖓ℊ 𝓉𝖔 𝖋ℯ𝖆𝓇,” Sylphanie said, “𝕷ℯ𝖛𝒾𝖆𝓉𝖍𝒶𝖓 𝖎𝓈 𝒶𝖓ℊ𝖗𝓎, 𝖘ℴ𝖗𝓇𝖔𝓌𝖋𝓊𝖑. ℬ𝖚𝓉 𝒽𝖊 𝖎𝓈 𝓃𝖔𝓉 ℴ𝖚𝓉 𝓉𝖔 𝖍𝒶𝖗𝓂 𝒶𝖓𝓎𝖔𝓃𝖊. 𝒲𝖊𝓁𝖑, 𝒶𝖓𝓎 ℯ𝖙𝒽𝖊𝓇𝖊𝒶𝖑𝓈, 𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓉 𝒾𝖘.”

Sam nodded awkwardly.

“Thank you,” they said, wishing they could know more about her past with Pat, but smart enough to know that asking a deity-like being nosy questions was a good way to end up dead - or worse, “I’ll tell them. Though from what I gathered at The Abnormal Orchard, I was already fairly certain of that.”

“𝖄ℴ𝖚 𝖆𝓇𝖊 𝖜𝒾𝖘ℯ 𝒻𝖔𝓇 𝒶 𝒽𝖚𝓂𝖆𝓃, 𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓉 𝒾𝖘 𝖖𝓊𝖎𝓉𝖊 𝖈𝓁𝖊𝒶𝖗,” Sylphanie murmured, “𝖕ℯ𝖗𝒽𝖆𝓅𝖘 𝖎𝒻 𝓎𝖔𝓊 𝒽𝖆𝒹 𝒷𝖊ℯ𝖓 𝖆𝓁𝖎𝓋𝖊 𝖆 𝖋ℯ𝖜 𝖍𝓊𝖓𝒹𝖗ℯ𝖉 𝖈ℯ𝖓𝓉𝖚𝓇𝖎ℯ𝖘 𝖆ℊ𝖔, 𝓌𝖊 𝖜ℴ𝖚𝓁𝖉 𝖓ℴ𝖙 𝖇ℯ 𝓌𝖍ℯ𝖗ℯ 𝓌𝖊 𝖆𝓇𝖊 𝖗𝒾𝖌𝒽𝖙 𝖓ℴ𝖜.”

Sam had absolutely no idea what that meant, but again, they knew better than to ask questions.

Besides, at that moment, Sylphanie looked up into the sky, and Sam leaned closer to the window to see what she’d seen.

At first it just looked like two of the stars against the blackness of night were shining brighter than the others, but as Sam watched, they realized these weren’t stars at all, and they were slowly getting closer, turning to brilliant silver and gold.

The gold ball of light took the shape of a massive winged lion, with a silky flowing mane and blazing blue eyes, and back legs that ended in pale pink hooves instead of paws.

The silver orb became an amber-eyed wolf the size of a horse, with three sharp horns like those of a ram on its head, and that appeared to be walking on nothing but the wind.

Sam opened the window and jumped out onto the ground, momentarily forgetting about Sylphanie.

“Harmonia!” They exclaimed, “Barsus! What are you doing here?”

“The wind directed us to come here,” Barsus answered, “there’s been another disturbance in the universe tonight.”

“And I believe we’ve found her.” Harmonia added, stepping up to Sylphanie.

Now that Sam was outside, they could see the way Sylphanie’s body seemed both there and not-there, flowing in intricate billowing patterns like clouds in the wind, or translucent silk. She glowed like the afternoon sun, though if one looked closely, they would notice small ribbons of rainbow colors twirling within her form. Her flower-like head and shoulders were dotted with thousands of eyes, the only things dark about her, though they still glowed from within, as though someone had held a light up to a piece of amber.

She had been staring at Harmonia and Barsus since they appeared in the sky without saying a word, and now she bent closer to them, as if trying to get a better look at them both.

“𝕸𝓎 ℊ𝖔ℴ𝖉𝓃𝖊𝓈𝖘…” she murmured, “𝖎𝓈 𝒾𝖙 𝖗ℯ𝖆𝓁𝖑𝓎 𝓎𝖔𝓊? 𝕿𝒽𝖊 𝖉ℯ𝖆𝓇 𝓁𝖎𝓉𝖙𝓁𝖊 𝖇𝒶𝖇ℯ𝖘 𝕴 𝖒ℯ𝖙 𝖆𝓁𝖑 𝖙𝒽𝖔𝓈𝖊 𝖞ℯ𝖆𝓇𝖘 𝖆ℊ𝖔?”

“It is us, 𝕾𝓎𝖑𝓅𝖍,” Harmonia answered as she and Barsus both dipped their heads respectfully, “we heard your voice on the wind and thought perhaps you needed our help again.”

Again? Sam thought, but was too awestruck to say out loud.

“𝕴 𝖉ℴ 𝓃𝖔𝓉,” Sylphanie said, “𝖇𝓊𝖙 𝕴 𝖆𝓂 𝓋𝖊𝓇𝖞 𝖕𝓁𝖊𝒶𝖘ℯ𝖉 𝖙ℴ 𝓈𝖊ℯ 𝓉𝖍ℯ 𝓉𝖜ℴ ℴ𝖋 𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖆ℊ𝖆𝒾𝖓, 𝒶𝖓𝒹 𝓉𝖔 𝖘ℯ𝖊 𝖍ℴ𝖜 𝖞ℴ𝖚’𝖛ℯ ℊ𝖗ℴ𝖜𝓃 𝓈𝖎𝓃𝖈ℯ ℐ 𝓁𝖆𝓈𝖙 𝖘𝒶𝖜 𝖞ℴ𝖚. 𝒴𝖔𝓊𝖗 𝖕𝒶𝖗ℯ𝖓𝓉𝖘 𝖜ℴ𝖚𝓁𝖉 𝖇ℯ 𝒽𝖔𝓃𝖔𝓊𝖗ℯ𝖉 𝖙ℴ 𝓈𝖊ℯ 𝒽𝖔𝓌 𝓈𝖙𝓇𝖔𝓃𝖌 𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖇ℴ𝖙𝒽 𝒶𝖗ℯ, 𝖆𝓃𝖉 𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓉 𝓎𝖔𝓊’𝓋𝖊 𝖋ℴ𝖚𝓃𝖉 𝖙𝒽𝖊 𝕼𝓊𝖊ℯ𝖓 𝖔𝒻 ℋ𝖊𝒶𝖗𝓉𝖘.”

“Thank you, 𝕾𝓎𝖑𝓅𝖍,” Barsus rumbled, “and we are honoured to be in your presence once again.”

At that moment, there was an abrupt wrrouwr! from inside the open window of the motel, just before Zephyr shot out into the night.

She pranced up to Harmonia without hesitation, chuffing and rubbing her head under the larger feline’s chin.

“Hello, my dear,” Harmonia said adoringly, “oh, how I’ve missed you. You must tell me all that has happened, my love.”

Sam smiled warmly as she watched the mated pair, but found their gaze subconsciously drifting to Sylphanie’s face. They were shocked to see that an almost mournful expression had manifested in her thousands of eyes.

“𝖄ℴ𝖚 𝖍𝒶𝖛ℯ 𝒻𝖆𝓁𝖑ℯ𝖓 𝖎𝓃 𝓁𝖔𝓋𝖊 𝖜𝒾𝖙𝒽 𝒶 𝓂𝖔𝓇𝖙𝒶𝖑 𝖇ℯ𝖎𝓃𝖌.” She said to Harmonia after a long silence, in which she simply stared at the two as they nuzzled each other.

“I have.” Harmonia murmured.

“𝕬𝓇𝖊 𝖞ℴ𝖚 ��𝓊𝖗ℯ 𝓉𝖍𝒶𝖙 𝖎𝓈 𝓌𝖎𝓈𝖊? 𝒜 𝓁𝖔𝓋𝖊 𝖜𝒾𝖙𝒽 𝓈𝖔𝓂𝖊ℴ𝖓ℯ 𝓈𝖔 𝖉𝒾𝖋𝒻𝖊𝓇𝖊𝓃𝖙 𝖋𝓇𝖔𝓂 𝓎𝖔𝓊𝖗𝓈𝖊𝓁𝖋 𝖈𝒶𝖓 𝖔𝓃𝖑𝓎 ℯ𝖓𝒹 𝒾𝖓 𝖍ℯ𝖆𝓇𝖙𝒷𝖗ℯ𝖆𝓀.”

A different sort of sadness crossed her face, and suddenly Sam understood all too well what her connection to Pat was, and why he had reacted the way he had to seeing her again.

“I understand this,” Harmonia said, “but I have taken a lesson from the humans I now share my home with, that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.”

Sylphanie seemed to consider this for a moment, then bobbed her head in a way that made her flowing body wave like sheets on a clothesline when the wind got stronger.

“𝕻ℯ𝖗𝒽𝖆𝓅𝖘 𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓉 𝒾𝖘 𝖔𝓃𝖊 𝖆𝓇𝖊𝒶 𝒾𝖓 𝖜𝒽𝖎𝒸𝖍 𝖍𝓊𝖒𝒶𝖓𝒾𝖙𝓎 𝒾𝖘 𝖘𝓂𝖆𝓇𝖙ℯ𝖗 - 𝖆𝓃𝖉 𝖇𝓇𝖆𝓋𝖊𝓇 - 𝓉𝖍𝒶𝖓 𝖆𝓃𝖞 𝖊𝓉𝖍ℯ𝖗ℯ𝖆𝓁 ℴ𝖗 𝖊𝓁𝖉𝓇𝖎𝒸𝖍 𝖇ℯ𝖎𝓃𝖌 𝖎𝓃 𝓉𝖍𝒾𝖘 𝖚𝓃𝖎𝓋𝖊𝓇𝖘ℯ.” She said.

“I… guess I’ll take that as a compliment?” Sam huffed.

“𝖂ℯ𝖑𝓁,” Sylphanie sighed, ignoring Sam’s comment, “𝕴 𝖇ℯ𝖑𝒾𝖊𝓋𝖊 𝖒𝓎 𝒷𝖚𝓈𝖎𝓃𝖊𝓈𝖘 𝖍ℯ𝖗ℯ 𝓉𝖔𝓃𝖎ℊ𝖍𝓉 𝒾𝖘 𝖋𝒾𝖓𝒾𝖘𝒽𝖊𝒹. 𝕭𝓊𝖙 𝖓ℴ𝖜 𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓉 ℐ 𝓀𝖓ℴ𝖜 𝕴 𝖘𝓉𝖎𝓁𝖑 𝖍𝒶𝖛ℯ 𝒶𝖑𝓁𝖎ℯ𝖘 𝖎𝓃 𝓉𝖍𝒾𝖘 𝖗ℯ𝖆𝓁𝖒, ℐ 𝓌𝖎𝓁𝖑 𝖗ℯ𝖒𝒶𝖎𝓃 𝓃𝖊𝒶𝖗 𝖙ℴ 𝒾𝖙.”

Barsus and Harmonia both dipped their heads again.

“We thank you for that,” Harmonia said, “and until we meet again, may the cosmic energies look faithfully upon you.”

“𝖀𝓅𝖔𝓃 𝓎𝖔𝓊 𝒶𝖘 𝖜ℯ𝖑𝓁,” Sylphanie replied, her ghostly form beginning to melt into the shadows, “𝖆𝓃𝖉 𝖙𝒽𝖆𝓃𝖐 𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖆𝓈 𝓌𝖊𝓁𝖑. 𝒲𝖍𝒶𝖙 𝖞ℴ𝖚 𝖍𝒶𝖛ℯ 𝓈𝖍𝒶𝖗ℯ𝖉 𝖜𝒾𝖙𝒽 𝓂𝖊 𝖙ℴ𝖓𝒾𝖌𝒽𝖙 𝖍𝒶𝖘 𝖇ℯ𝖌𝓊𝖓 𝖙ℴ 𝒽𝖊𝒶𝖑 𝖆 𝖜ℴ𝖚𝓃𝖉 𝕴 𝖓ℯ𝖛ℯ𝖗 𝖙𝒽𝖔𝓊𝖌𝒽𝖙 𝖈ℴ𝖚𝓁𝖉 𝖍ℯ𝖆𝓁.”

With that, she faded from view completely, though the way the hair on Sam’s arms remained standing upright for a few moments, along with the fact that it took a bit for the chill in the air to go away completely, told them she wasn’t fully gone just because she couldn’t be seen.

“Well…” they said finally, realizing they were shaking a little, “that was… a very weird night.”

~

{EPILOGUE}

“Guys! Wait up!”

“You shouldn’t have come with us if you couldn’t keep up!”

The peace of the jungle was disrupted by the sound of bickering human voices, those belonging to Athena, eleven, and Lucas, fifteen. With them - and being much quieter - were their older sisters, Hanna and Alexa, both in their early twenties.

Lucas turned on Athena with a leering smirk.

“‘I’ll tell Dad if you don’t take me with you!’” He mocked, and Athena stuck their tongue out angrily.

“Leave them alone,” Alexa cut in before their arguing could escalate, “and shut up, both of you. Did you not listen all those times when Mom told us not to draw attention to yourself when out in the woods?”

“We’d get away,” Lucas retorted, “the short one might be easy prey, though.”

“STOP, Lucas!” Athena shouted, making to hit him, but Alexa held them back.

“Don’t, he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.” She murmured.

Ahead of them, Hanna, the oldest of the four, stopped in a clearing bathed in sunlight from a gap in the trees and placed her hands on her hips.

“Hey, ‘Lexa?” She called over her shoulder.

“Yeah?” Alexa replied, ignoring Lucas and Athena as they continued making faces at each other.

“I think we’re about to be in big trouble.”

“What? Why?”

Alexa followed Hanna’s gaze, and immediately realized what she was talking about.

“Oh…” she mumbled, just as a massive winged lion and a three-horned wolf that seemed to be walking on thin air descended from the sky and into the clearing.

From the lion’s back lept Zephyr, who raced to greet Lucas and Athena as if it was perfectly normal for her spirit-bond’s children to be wandering in the jungle.

Sam jumped from the wolf’s back, The Lion’s Breath in hand and looking ready to scold their children before the four of them could even come up with an excuse.

“What are you kids doing out here?” They demanded the moment their feet touched the ground.

“Uh oh,” Athena muttered under their breath, “busted…”

“Okay, first of all, I’m twenty three,” Hanna objected, “and Alexa is twenty one, we’re adults now.”

“You’re still incredibly young, and you’re avoiding the question,” Sam shot back, “not to mention you brought your little siblings out here too.”

“We were just gonna bring Lucas, but Athena said they’d tell…” Alexa said lamely, realizing too late how stupid and childish that argument was as Sam raised an eyebrow at her.

“We can take care of ourselves.” Hanna added.

“Which I don’t doubt,” Sam said dryly, “I’m just not pleased that you took it upon yourselves to come out here for the first time.”

Hanna and Alexa looked at each other in confusion.

“First time?” Alexa echoed as they both looked back at Sam.

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed, “I wanted to take you myself! Now, you didn’t get in any fights with any wild animals, did you?”

“Uh… no?” Hanna replied uncertainly.

“Good,” Sam murmured, putting their arms around their daughters’ shoulders and leading them back towards the Ryder Estate, ���your first encounter with a wild beast is important, and I want to be there to see it.”

Zephyr paused at the edge of the trees before following her human companions, glancing back at the two mythical creatures still waiting in the clearing.

Harmonia blinked fondly at her.

“Go on, my love,” she said, “we will see each other again soon.”

Zephyr chuffed in response, tossing her head before bounding after Sam and their children.

“Well. That was certainly an interesting experience.” Barsus murmured beside Harmonia, who nodded.

“Indeed,” she agreed, “it was. Though I was happy to see 𝕾𝓎𝖑𝓅𝖍 again.”

“As was I. And I have a feeling that this is not the last we will see of her either.”

“I feel the same. Though I suppose we will have to wait and see.”

“We will. But until then, what shall we do?”

“Take care of our own, and keep in mind that she is always nearby.”

Barsus nodded, and then, with a wisp of pale golden smoke, the pair disappeared, leaving the clearing looking as though it had always been empty.

@inkbedou @the-matpat-ever @insane4fandoms 🫶

[the-matpat-ever]

VOICE REVEAL BABY‼️

It's just me voicing my oc Nic and the voice inside his head :)

They're my favorite<333

@wouldntyou-liketoknow <- the lovely person who created Caliban and The Pentas Family<3

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Things Happen After Dark...

(Disclaimer: one of the characters in this story do not belong to me. Casey Clowes was created by my amazing friend, @insane4fandoms.)

(Now, as for the fanegos who do belong to me: for more information on Caliban, go here. For more information on Azalea, go here. Murdock belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe, and if you’d like to see my personal headcanons on him, go here.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR! (Only twelve minutes late...oh well 😅 🍾)

(Trigger Warnings: murder/death, blood/gore, violence, descriptions of illegal business, poisoning, strangling/suffocation, cannibalism, broken bones, beating/blunt force trauma, knives/blades/weapons, eating/drinking, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Sections of the old concrete floor were slick, shining against the dim, flickering lights up above.

An unmistakable metallic stench hung in the air like heavy fog. 

Casey hated the fact that it lined up so well with how he could hear his own blood rushing through the veins in his ears.

The shivers were so violent, racing up and down throughout Casey’s ribcage. He ground his jaw; he couldn’t let his teeth start chattering. 

He’d already shown more fear than he’d care to admit—now, he couldn’t afford to show too much more. 

That would only make it easier for them…

To be clear, it wasn’t that Casey was unfamiliar with these sorts of places.

Old buildings that loomed on the sides of roads, basically out in the middle of nowhere, adorned by sun-bleached brick or faded paint and broken windows. 

The peculiar spots that had been left to rot for whatever reason a long time ago, that anyone could pass on their way to something better.

It was a bit ironic, really; he’d been hired to gather evidence against stalkers so many times before. And yet, sneaking around certain places at odd hours was exactly how he went about earning his keep and paying his bills.  

Sure, he wasn’t immune to cold sweat, or shivers up the spine, or having to duck and cover and just hold his breath until his lungs set themselves on fire and brace for some kind of horrific impact until he could finally, finally manage to peek out and move to safer ground…

But you just couldn’t be a private investigator if you couldn’t handle that kind of stuff.

It was just a fact of life: the more condemned a place was, the more likely people were to slip in through its cracks and do God-knows-what because they knew that pretty much everyone else wouldn’t venture inside.

He’d already snooped around two abandoned factories much like this one earlier in the year. 

Hell, those cases had even started off in a somewhat similar way to tonight’s shenaniganry: with a stroll through the Cove Port Inlets, just to review the facts—there never seemed to be enough—and get the juices flowing.

Granted, those other cases hadn’t involved him getting pulled into an alleyway so a few scumbags could practice for a chiropractic degree. 

Those other cases hadn’t involved him blacking out and eventually coming to with way more rope tightly coiled wrapped around his chest and arms than he remembered.

Those other cases hadn’t involved him being on the receiving end of an amateur stakeout.

Those other cases hadn’t involved near as much of a cacophony—screams that eventually bled into unintelligible whimpers and gurgles. 

Bones snapping under pressure, flesh practically sighing as metal was dragged through it.

Red either oozing down in ribbons to create viscous puddles, or droplets soaring through the air to splatter against the walls or, or, or…

It was almost made worse by the fact that he recognized the figures who were now pacing around the room, just a few feet from the corner he’d been bound to.

Well, the recognizing was sort of technical. 

This wasn’t the first close encounter he’d had with them (and his instincts demanded that he believe it wouldn’t be the last, either), but all the tricks, all the chases, all the near-misses just made things…strange. 

“Oh my God,” Azalea Crawford announced, stepping away from the mess to kneel down beside him, her big chestnut eyes glinting. “Is—is that a half-respirator?”

She reached out to carefully turn the small gas mask that rested on Casey’s collar from a strap stretched across the back of his neck. 

Casey took a subtle deep breath. The shivers cranked themselves up to eleven, so he had to try even harder than before to keep them trapped in his chest. 

She may have been petite—truly, she was one of the shortest adults he’d seen in his life—especially compared to him, but he knew better than to underestimate her. He’d heard of her reputation.

He’d watched her smile so casually when one of his kidnappers fell to the floor as though all his bones had just melted, wailing in agony and clawing at the same dart that had been shot from a small gun she’d pulled from her carob-colored vest 

“Hey, you left quite an impression that one time,” Casey finally answered, raising a sarcastic eyebrow. 

“That’s nice of you to say,” Azalea replied, fidgeting with the cherry-red headband that decorated her gently-curling locks. The venom-laced sugar in her voice made it clear that she remembered just as well as he did. 

“Ooh,” another voice called out from a bit further away, set in a Midwestern accent, a bit jagged around the edges yet somehow still managing to be silvery. “Trauma-incuded mementos are a classic!”

Caliban Crawford wandered closer, his mouth—well, pretty much everything below his eyes, to be honest—still dripping with gore. As he bared his red-drenched teeth in a shiny grin, his silver canine-cap almost seemed to be letting off sparks thanks to the flickering lights.  

“Guess that means I’ve gotta up my own ante, huh?” He asked as he stood beside his sister, appraising toward her and sinister toward the captive audience.

Casey grimaced, quickly shaking his head. “Please don’t.”

“I just feel like I’ve been challenged!” Caliban held up his hands, his shoulders popping up in a snide shrug. “Y’know, to see if I can make you get another protective trinket.”

“The human body’s already horrifying enough on its own!” Casey protested. He would’ve made a furious weeping gesture toward the fresh carnage across the room, but his hands were literally tied, so the most he could do was nod at it. “Look at that! How did you even do that?!”

Caliban paused, glancing over his shoulder to fix the viscera another hungry look.

“I mean, you were kinda watching all of us when it happened,” Azalea mentioned.

“Yeah, well I was TRYING not to!” Casey retorted. 

“A dollop of fairy dust,” Caliban finally proclaimed, folding his arms across his chest as his focus returned to the investigator.

Casey blinked, and if it weren’t for his restrained position, he would’ve felt his jaw hitting the floor. “...That’s nOT FUNNY!” 

“Yeah? Then why was I laughing so much?” Caliban’s eyes grew wider, his grin even sharper than before. 

“BECAUSE YOU’RE SICK!” 

“Oh, c’mon. He’s just having some fun with his job,” Azalea reached up to pat her brother on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with that?”

Casey was about to go on a whole tirade about how a-frickin-LOT of things were wrong with being so damn happy about a career in contract-killing and the Black Market, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“Hey, listen,” yet another voice piped up from just around the corner, steeped in velvetine oil. “I deserve some credit for all this too.”

Murdock Mallory came strolling into the room, a few tiny red spots still clinging to his black-tinted lenses. Really, it was a miracle how no blood seemed to have gotten in the raven hair that just about tickled his shoulders.

“I ripped the tag off a mattress this morning,” he continued, idly twisting the thin chain around his neck between his forefinger and thumb, causing its brass pendant to spin. “Pretty sure that set off some kind of Butterfly Effect.”

Casey wanted to shout, to sputter, to do something more to showcase how angry he was because that just felt like the only thing he had left right now…but he couldn’t. 

Instead, he just heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, wow. And here I thought anatomy was the only science you guys were interested in.” 

“Uh, excuse you. I’m all about chaos theory,” Caliban huffed before turning away and beginning to scrape up the horrific remains that he was insane enough to deem as leftovers into what looking like a body bag. 

“You don’t need to have such an attitude about this,” Murdock chided, taking a few steps closer and tilting his head to the side. “Think: some sleazeball competitors of ours took you hostage to try and bait us. We could’ve just let them get rid of you, but no! We got rid of them instead! So, when you think about it, we’ve actually done you a pretty nice favor here.”

“Yeah,” Azalea agreed. Her voice was suddenly much closer, and Casey realized too late that he couldn’t see her anymore. “We could just leave you here for the cleanup crew to deal with, but we’re not doing that, either! Just think about that when you wake up, huh?” 

The question was punctuated by the distinct pinching sensation of a needle sinking into the small of Casey’s neck…

___

Of course, Casey wasn’t in the rightest mind to think about some things immediately after that. 

When he woke up on a park bench just as the sun began climbing its way into the sky, however, he had to admit: he had plenty to think about. 

…Mainly the fact that he had to have some begrudging gratitude about no chloroform being used. That stuff was way nastier than the movies ever let on.

@sammys-magical-au @the-matpat-ever @lampsforsocks @b-is-in-the-closet

[cinemaslife]

#107 Acusada (2018)

Dolores (Lali Espósito) está acusada por la sociedad y por el juzgado de matar a su amiga Camila, lo justifican diciendo que fue su propia amiga Camina quien distribuyo un video sexual de Dolores.

Después de una fiesta multitudinaria para despedir a Camila por un viaje que iba a realizar de más de 3 meses. Todos acabaron borrachos, entre ellos Dolores y se quedó dormida en la habitación de su amiga. Mientras ella dormía en el sofá. Era la primera vez que se quedaba a dormir después de la gran pelea que tuvieron por la difusión de dicho vídeo.

Han pasado 2 años del crimen, y ahora Dolores afronta el juicio. Está siendo sobreprotegida por sus padres, no la dejan acceder a internet para que no lea las cosas que se dicen de ella, no ve a sus amigos, y solo puede hacerlo en su casa, está siempre acompañada por su madre o su padre. Y tiene que ver como su grupo de amigas se divide entre las que las apoyan y las que no.

En el juicio se ven algunas fotografías tomadas en la fiesta del crimen. La fiesta se quedó en que era sin teléfonos móviles para que no volviera a pasar lo del vídeo íntimo que se distribuyó de Dolores. Las fotos se hicieron con una cámara de fotos de una de las amigas.

También queda claro que es Camila quien graba a Dolores manteniendo relaciones sexuales con un tal Iván, esto lo declara una amiga de ambas, y asegura que la pareja era consciente que la estaban grabando, y que había dos teorías que Camila se lo pasó a solo una persona y que esa persona lo viralizó, o que fue la propia Camila quien lo viralizó. Pero que independientemente de eso, Dolores le dijo a Camila: "como alguien vea este video te mato puta".

A Dolores le da un ataque de ansiedad después de un receso en el juicio. Dolores y Camila estaban muy unidas, es algo que dicen todas las amigas en el juicio, y Dolores lo confirma con videos viejos de ella y Camila de niñas, jugando y pasándolo bien. Cabe destacar que el padre de Camila las abandona a ella y a su madre, y que cuando esta rehace su vida con otro hombre, tanto Camila como Dolores, no se llevan bien con él. Y que al principio de todo se creyó que fue él quien atacó a Camila, pero lo descartaron deprisa y acusaron a Dolores.

Camila fue apuñalada en el cuello mientras dormía en el sofá con unas tijeras de sastre, desde atrás. Esto se usa en contra de Dolores porque ella estudiaba moda. A la vuelta del día del juicio entran en casa de la familia de Dolores, es la policía con una orden.

Por mucho que Dolores se esfuerce por hacer una vida normal, se ve limitada por sus circunstancias, haciendo que su vida y sus relaciones se vuelvan extrañas, no se puede fiar de nadie, y sus padres la animan a que así sea.

Sus padres quieren que vaya a una prestigiosa escuela de moda en París, para que empiece de cero en otro país, y pueda continuar sus estudios que tanto la apasionaban. Pero ella se siente incapaz de dejar el pasado atrás. Sigue buscando respuestas en casa de Camila y en el entorno que alguna vez ella consideró seguro. Y no puede evitar autolesionarse cuando recuerda el cuerpo ensangrentado de Camila.

La familia de Dolores se está gastando el dinero en los mejores servicios del país como una lingüista que la enseñe a hablar y a controlar su postura, así como el mejor abogado del país, que le recuerda que saldrá a los 46 años de la cárcel hecha absolutamente mierda, que no juegue con la idea de ir a la cárcel porque no sabe lo que son 25 años en el agujero que supone la cárcel. Que entiende la culpabilidad que siente porque cuando se fue de la casa Camila estaba durmiendo.

Dolores es confrontada por un presentador de un programa donde unos días antes se le dio voz a Marisa, la madre de Camila, que sigue pensando que la asesina de su hija es su amiga. Ante el ataque, Dolores vuelve a lo que le han enseñado durante estos, casi, tres años, repetir palabras que la enseñan, y usar un tono de voz y una postura correcta, que no es natural en ella.

Buscando sincerarse, en el programa admite que nunca perdonó a Camila por difundir su video sexual, y que pensó en que muriera, pero que ella no la mató. Esto enfada profundamente a sus padres, a su abogado, y a su lingüista... aunque su abogado reconoce que hablar con pasión puede haberla ayudado.

Dolores y su padre tienen una conversación muy intensa en donde ella le confiesa que no puede más, y él le recuerda los sacrificios que han hecho por ella, vender propiedades, hipotecarse, perder el trabajo, proyectos... y que si al final la declaran culpable ya no la considerará su hija.

La joven está buscándose en los recuerdos y en como era su vida antes, visita lugares que tuvieron significado para ella, donde fue feliz y compartió recuerdos con su amiga y su familia. Incluso planea suicidarse para acabar con todo. En ese momento llega su padre y ella le echa en cara que su mochila desapareció después del crimen, y él le asegura que lo hizo para protegerla, ella le recuerda que no fue quien asesinó a la chica. Pero le confiesa que cuando se fue de la casa, Camila se estaba desangrando y que cree que aún estaba viva, pero que ella se fue y la dejó que muriera porque no la había perdonado. Pero insiste en que no la mató.

El padre de Dolores se desespera buscando lógica al comportamiento de su hija, después de la confesión que le hizo, y pone en la mesa otra opción, que Dolores estuvo allí cuando asesinaron a Camila y que no se enteró, y que al ver a su amiga muerta, y esperando a que no la inculparan, se fue. El abogado le dice que si Dolores abandonó a Camila para dejarla morir son entre 5 y 15 años de condena, ahí parece que el padre le va a confesar al abogado que fue el quién se deshizo de algunas de las pruebas, pero la madre le pide que guarde silencio.

La joven está tan absorta y disociada cuando la declaran inocente, que no sabe como reaccionar, todo el mundo se muestra incrédulo y se queja mientras sus padres y abogado lo celebran.

Cuando van a celebrarlo y Dolores está haciendo la maleta para irse a París a la escuela de moda, la joven ve al puma, que al principio de la película una señora dice ver y nadie la cree, por mucho que investigan. Con este final abierto se da a entender que la inocencia de Dolores es como ese puma, que siempre estuvo, pero nadie lo creyó.

¿Inspirada en un hecho real? El asesinato de Solange Grabenheimer

Aunque el propio director dice que no, parece ser que la película se inspira en el asesinato real de Solange Grabenheimer una joven que compartía piso con su íntima amiga Lucila Frend y que apareció asesinada en su habitación de una manera similar a la que se ve en el film.

Pese a que las dos jóvenes tenía algunos roces, todos aseguraban que eran buenas amigas, y, tal como ocurre en el film, no se tardó en acusar a Lucila del crimen de su amiga. La joven salió inocente, pero toda la familia, amigos y allegados de Solange creen que si lo hizo ella.

[jackaycola]

Have some stuff of my design and slight hc stuff of my version on King Of The Squirrels!

I’d explain but I don’t feel like it right now.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

@sammys-magical-au This is definitely something Azalea would say...but we both know she probably picked it up from listening to Caliban's morbid jokes

like the first rule of cooking is to have fun and be yourself and the first rule of baking is to stay calm because the dough can sense fear

[ojo-rojo]

Sofia Fanego

[loueale]

[luegootravez]

Sofía Fanego by © Basilio Silva

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

I know some people are probably sick of me sticking my fanegos onto stuff like this. . .but then again, it's not like I do that ten times a day.

Anyway, @sammys-magical-au I can see a line like this working with Caliban. Just because gluttony always seems to be associated with cannibalism one way or another when there's already plenty of different types of symbolism to work with.

Realizing the bad guy in Se7en actually didn’t do his research.

[sammys-magical-au]

A Telltale Heart

Hey y’all!! I’m back at it again with the follow-up stories as a Christmas present for my good friend @wouldntyou-liketoknow - this one’s a long overdue sequel to Bloody Tricks and Even Bloodier Treats, her Halloween special from 2 Halloweens ago (😅). It ended up a little shorter than I’d originally intended, but the ending I have here just kinda felt right 😊

Disclaimer: the character of Caliban is not mine and belongs to @wouldntyou-liketoknow, he’s one of her many MatPat fanegos that I would highly encourage you to check out!!

Warnings: cannibalism, mentions of past injury, reference of a suicide attempt

And without further ado, I give you A Telltale Heart…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You wanna know what it tastes like, don’t you?”

Sam’s head shot up at Caliban’s comment, and she was shaking her head before she’d even fully thought about it.

“Absolutely not,” she replied sternly, “I’m vegetarian, plus I’ve learned in my line of work to not ask questions I already know I don’t want the answers to.”

Caliban stared at her for a moment, then shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” He murmured, which would’ve totally been an acceptable thing to say if he hadn’t followed it up by shoveling a bite of actual-human-person into his mouth. He absolutely knew the irony of his actions and was revelling in how uncomfortable Sam was because of it.

Sam cringed, swallowing the bile rising in their throat.

She didn’t know why she was sitting across from him while he ate the person she’d helped him kill.

Maybe what Owen said was right, and she was just a damn bleeding heart, too caring for her own good.

She just wanted to make sure Caliban was okay after he’d been attacked.

There were still red marks on his throat where that man’s thumbs had pressed into his flesh, and they’d likely bruise. Sam was positively certain Caliban had suffered worse injuries in his line of work, but she couldn’t help but feel… he didn’t want to be alone here, even if he’d never say so out loud, since Murdock had left to contact the cleanup crew a few minutes ago.

As if he’d read Sam’s mind, Caliban suddenly broke into her thoughts.

“You can go if you want,” he mumbled around his mouthful - again, actually human flesh. Sam wouldn’t have minded his poor table manners if he’d been eating something normal. “You don’t have to stay. I know not many people like to watch me eat.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sam half-lied, “I’ll… I’ll stay. I don’t mind… too much.”

She tried to keep her eyes from drifting down to his plate as she said it, which admittedly wasn’t that hard when his mouth curled into a smile - a genuine smile, not his usual cavalier smirk - and he let out a faint chuckle.

He seemed to have calmed down a bit since having eaten, and even though Sam couldn’t relate to craving human flesh, she could certainly relate to feeling better when her stomach wasn’t empty anymore.

“Sorry if I scared you by the way,” Caliban added - once again seeming to read her mind, “earlier, I mean.”

“Oh, you didn’t scare me,” Sam replied, again sort-of lying, “I’ve seen much worse in Torchwood, believe me… you’re not even the first cannibal I’ve met, if I’m being completely honest.”

That gave Caliban pause - Sam quite literally saw him jolt in his chair, though only slightly. His head snapped up to look at her.

“Really?” He asked, “who were they?”

“I dunno if I ever learned their names,” Sam answered, trying not to shudder, “if I was ever told them, they either didn’t stick in my brain or I purposely forgot. They were… different from you…”

As much difference as you could get with cannibals… she thought, but neglected to say.

Caliban raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting them to go on.

“It was a whole family, for one thing,” Sam went on, realizing she was already shaking, “a mother and father and their grown-up kids. Lived in this town in the Wales countryside, people started going missing, we got called out because it was ‘suspicious’. Turns out it was pretty far out of our jurisdiction - out of anyone’s jurisdiction, really, considering what they were doing out there… they didn’t just… they didn’t just eat the people the caught. They tortured them, they tricked us into thinking they were on our side, one of them even impersonated a police officer to capture Gwen and Owen. Ianto got it the worst. He tried to sacrifice himself to save Tosh, so she could run. They… they beat him so heavily he almost wasn’t alive by the time we got him outta there. Those people weren’t just cannibalizing for food, they did it for fun, for pleasure. I… I’ve seen a lot of horrible shit in my lifetime, but that was probably one of the worst.”

She sucked in a long breath, realizing she hadn’t inhaled since she’d started the story.

“Anyway… I dunno why I’m telling you all this. I guess just to say that… I misjudged you. You’re not like them, you’re… different. And I’m sorry.”

Caliban frowned.

“What for?”

“Well it’s not fair to judge you based on the only thing I know about you.”

“I’m a cannibal.”

“That… still doesn’t make it fair.”

“I don’t really care much about fairness.”

“But I do.”

Caliban shrugged.

“Alright. Fine. If apologizing makes you feel better then.”

He was quiet for a second.

“Thank you.” He added, in a barely audible voice.

Sam nodded, knowing he probably wouldn’t want anymore acknowledgement than that, and offered a small smile.

She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes as Caliban finished his impromptu snack - if it could be called that - finally feeling the adrenaline of the evening starting to wear off.

“You threw out a lot of names there,” Caliban said finally, breaking the silence, and Sam opened one eye to look at him again.

“Hm?” She asked.

“In your story about the other cannibals,” Caliban explained, “what’s this ‘Torchwood’ thing really about, anyway? You said about four different names of people I don’t know and that apparently you get called out to deal with missing people, but you’re not a cop.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“I could be.” She said.

Caliban was already shaking his head, grinning.

“No, you couldn’t,” he said, “you’re not the type, I can tell.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sam chuckled, “Gwen used to be, though. A cop, I mean. She’s our investigator now, using that could’ve-been-a-detective brain to track down leads and appeal to people’s human side. She really cares, she’s our heart, reminds us to be more… human. More kind. Toshiko is the brains of the operation, she’s a scientist, a techie. She can hack into just about any government agency site and she can solve any tech issue in five minutes, tops - I just wish she’d recognize her own brilliance. Owen’s the doctor, but he’s also a biologist. Any weird, wacky specimens we find go to him. He’s a bit of a hardass, but he’s like a little brother to me. We all know he’s much softer on the inside than he lets on. Ianto’s kind of a one-man-band, he cleans up after us, makes the coffee, but he specializes in the archives. He’s also the youngest of all of us. By a lot. Sometimes I catch myself thinking of him as a kid, even if that’s wrong. I can’t help it.”

“That young, is he?” Caliban asked.

“Early twenties.”

“And the other cannibals, they beat him?”

“Almost to death. And I can’t imagine the psychological torture they put him through. That could only be seen in his eyes… he wouldn’t tell us what they said to him, but I could tell… he tried to… take his own life not long after…”

Sam swallowed hard.

“H-he’s better now, of course, but… we were all pretty worried about him. And I don’t think he’s ever had friends who worry about him before.”

Caliban’s expression hardened, a flicker of anger appearing in his eyes, though Sam could tell it wasn’t directed at her.

“Then there’s Jack,” Sam went on, wishing her hands would stop shaking, “he’s our leader, and… well, I’m his biological ancestor. He’s from the future, but he ended up back here because of a misadventure with a man called the Doctor, who’s a whole other story completely.”

“How do you find out your someone’s ‘biological ancestor’?” Caliban demanded.

Sam shrugged with a weak laugh.

“When your coworkers start not minding their own business and notice how similar you talk and act and look and get a DNA test done.”

Caliban huffed a laugh before lapsing into another momentary silence.

“Doc told me about that little favor he did for you,” he said after a minute or so, “watching your other children. I’m assuming Jack wasn’t one of them.”

Sam nodded, trying to fight the sudden anxiety worming away at her stomach over the fact that a cannibal had just asked her about her children.

“Yeah, I have three younger kids between one and eight,” they said quietly, “my partner, Jay, was gonna be out for the evening and I got called out on an emergency, and since we were all living over here at the time and I couldn’t ask anyone else on my my team to step in, I contacted Murdock.”

Caliban was chortling.

“You hired a contract killer to babysit your children!” He cackled.

“Yeah, and Jay wasn’t too fucking happy about it when he found out either,” Sam grumbled, which only made Caliban laugh harder, “I know Murdock promised they couldn’t be safer, but… well, a serial killer is a serial killer.”

“What’re their names?” Caliban asked, a strange glimmer in his brown eyes that Sam couldn’t quite match to an emotion.

Sam’s heart slammed to an immediate stop.

Caliban must’ve seen the shock and reluctance in her face, because he immediately shook his head, waving a hand dismissively.

“Never mind,” he murmured, “you don’t have to tell me. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“N-no, it’s fine,” Sam stammered quickly, “I just… and I hate that I have to ask this, but… you wouldn’t eat a child, would you?”

Caliban raised an eyebrow at them, annoyance (and… possibly offence?) etched into his face.

“So, did you think my underground subway lair looked like a witch’s gingerbread house, or…?” He asked, his tone bordering on the same anger he’d expressed before.

“Alright, fair enough,” Sam sighed, raising her hands, “sorry. Protective instinct, I guess.”

“You would protect them, wouldn’t you?”

The question caught Sam off guard.

“… What?” She responded, frowning and tilting her head to one side.

“From someone like… from someone like those other cannibals.”

Sam could tell he’d wanted to say “from someone like me” but had refrained. She didn’t acknowledge this.

“Of course I would,” they said, with sudden fierceness, “I’d protect them from anything, human or not, cannibal or not, Earthly being or not. I’d give up my life for my children, I’d give up everything for them. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I wasn’t.” Caliban responded quickly. Then he added quietly, “just wanted to be sure.”

“Sure of what? That I’m not an abusive parent?” Sam shot back with a laugh, “never. NEVER.”

“Good to know.” Caliban said simply.

That strange emotion from before still lingered in his gaze, and Sam squinted at him.

“… Why?” She asked finally, and Caliban glanced up at them.

“Huh?”

“Why… did you wanna know that? Why’s it important to you?”

“Because no child deserves to suffer, but any adult who caused them suffering does.”

Sam nodded.

“Agreed. Got a bit of a soft spot for children then, huh?”

“You could say that, I guess. As long as you don’t make fun of me for it.”

“I’d never do that! Why would I? It only makes me like you more.”

Caliban gave her another look.

“Platonically, I mean.” She added.

“I know that,” Caliban huffed, “I’m just not used to hearing people say they ‘like’ me, especially not… normal people.”

“Well, you should know me enough by now to know I’m not a ‘normal’ person. If such a thing even exists.”

Caliban nodded, smiling.

“You make a good point.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@insane4fandoms @inkbedou @the-matpat-ever

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Quiet Moments

Hhokay.

This recent ask, right? Well, even though I still stand by the boundaries I explained…I do feel like I might have come off a bit more passive-aggressive than I would’ve liked. If that’s the case, then I apologize. 

Even if all the irl holiday stress is over, I’m still dealing with seasonal depression. I’ve just kinda been in a haze all month. That’s the reason I’m struggling with my current WIP (which was supposed to be a Christmas gift for certain friends, but now will hopefully be posted on New Year’s Eve because I just really want to contribute something to celebrate).

In short, my head is a mess at the moment. However, since I’ve had a few minutes to think…perhaps fulfilling that little request will help get the juices flowing again. Help me regain focus, y’know? 

So, to the anon who sent that ask last night: here ya go! STILL NO SMUT, BECAUSE I JUST DON'T WRITE LIKE THAT. Admittedly not much in the way of spice either. More like…lightly-seasoned Hurt/Comfort, I guess? Either way, don’t say I never did anything for you.

(Disclaimer: both of the characters in this snippet belong to me. For more information on R.D., go here. For more information on Caliban, go here.)

(Trigger Warnings: stress/anxiety, slightly suggestive themes, blood/gore, broken bones, dislocated joints, implied violence, descriptions of illegal business, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of cravings/hunger-pangs, mentions of eating/drinking, mentions of illegal experimentation. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

___

Scrrtch-scrrtch

The sound was so light, so timid. 

R.D. had only just left the office upstairs, only just walked into the bedroom. Her head was still buzzing with all the notes she’d had to memorize and record for her latest experiment. 

(Though, she had to admit that the typical stress was followed by satisfaction. The test subject her team had abducted nearly a week ago was still alive. Certainly not well, but at least somewhat stable. His blood had already shown such interesting reactions to those chemical samples…no doubt there would be plenty more reactions on the way…)

At first, she had to pause and wonder if she’d actually heard anything at all. 

And as if to drive the point home… 

Scrrtch-scrrtch, sccrrtch-scrrttch

There it was again: the faint sound of little nails dragging along wood. 

And it was obviously seeping into the air from the walk-in closet.

Brow furrowing, R.D. approached that corner of the room, flicking on the closet’s light as she entered.

Scrrtch-scrrtch

The door to Caliban’s den was well-camouflaged among the wallpaper in here, but more than enough time had passed for her to have no trouble finding it. 

R.D. reached over and eased the hidden threshold open, revealing a steep concrete staircase.

She found Snare on the first step, one of his feet lightly thumping against the floor as he fidgeted with his forepaws. 

The pale hare was usually full of energy, and in a way, she supposed he was right now. 

But this was a different type of energy. 

His long ears were nearly touching his back, flattened almost like those of an upset cat. When he craned his neck to look up at her, his weird, beady little dark amber eyes shone with what could only be a clear, almost human-esque sense of worry. 

Snare leaned close, pinching the cuff of her pant-leg between his buck-teeth and tugging a few times. He then dropped to all fours and scurried down the stairs.

R.D. didn’t hesitate to follow. Snare’s quirks made it difficult for most people (except Caliban, of course) to fully understand him, but he was a clever little thing. He’d been trained in a way similar to a dog, and you just got the sense that he knew what he was doing. (...Most of the time, anyway.)

R.D. shifted her weight, keeping her footsteps soft, holding one hand against the cold cement wall to keep her balance. She paused on the final stair, peering into the den.

What she saw…well, it wasn’t unfamiliar, really. 

Caliban stood by the block-island, his back turned to her, in the center of all the kitchen and butchering equipment he’d set up down here so long ago. 

There didn’t seem to be anything off with the functional chaos around him…

R.D. silently walked closer, coming to stand just a little ways from his side. 

There was a severed human arm lying on the block-island, probably having been fished out of the chest-freezer a little while ago. Again, not all that surprising; though she’d obviously had a few questions about Caliban’s lifestyle when they first began seeing each other, that didn’t mean she’d ever had a problem with it, mind you.

There was a bit of blood here and there, but it wasn’t much compared to the messes Caliban usually made for his work. 

In fact, the gore here only seemed to be the result of leaking, not cutting. There were no knives (butcher tools or medical blades) strewn about. Even Caliban’s favorite meat-cleaver was nowhere to be seen…

As R.D. watched, she realized that Caliban’s knuckles were white as he gripped the arm’s wrist to keep it steady. His free hand, meanwhile, was busily tugging at the victim’s fingers: he bent the index back with a sharp, sickening little snap!

The thumb and pinkie both looked just a bit too long for comfort, both laying at awkward angles. It only took a second or two for R.D. to conclude that they’d been forcefully dislocated, likely having been gripped at the knuckles when the joints inside were pulled out of their sockets. 

R.D. blinked, and Caliban had already moved on to the middle finger now. He pulled it harshly, bending it back just like he had before…only now, he kept snapping the phalange, slowly-but-surely folding the digit into a fleshy, uneven rectangle.

She tilted her head at the display.

Caliban was a guy who knew how to keep a system. He took pride in organizing all the stuff he harvested from The Pentas Family’s targets, whether they were his or the ones his peers brought to him for disposal. Even smaller pieces like this arm had enough stuff to be divided evenly between what he kept for eating, and what could be cleaned and sold on the Black Market. 

Sometime after they’d first moved in together, he’d been honest with R.D. about not having much in his youth; he usually balked at the idea of wasting resources—human flesh or not. 

She looked around him, slightly craning her neck to see his face. 

Caliban’s eyes were narrowed, all puffy and red. His jaw was clenched, lips pulled back to reveal rows of gritted teeth; his silver canine-cap wasn’t glinting like usual. Translucent streaks ran down the length of his features. A tiny speck suddenly slid down his cheek, soon hanging off his chin and then plummeting down onto the block-island’s surface.

Something cold and clammy slithered along R.D.’s ribcage. It suddenly felt like there was a jagged hook digging into the bottom of her heart. 

She turned away, trekking up the stairs as quietly as she’d come. After that, she exited the closet and made for the space next to it.

The master bathroom was calm, clean, tidy; everything just seemed to have a little gleam to it. 

She pushed the shower curtain aside, then stopped the drain. 

As the water flowed, she’d check it with her wrist every now and again. Not too hot—only warm enough for thin veils of steam to curl through the air.

She fished out some bubble bath from under the sink. Not too fragrant—just sweet in a delicate way, kind of like jasmine tea. 

It was an uncommon, expensive brand that she normally wouldn’t share with anyone, but…

Sooner or later, the tub was full enough. After twisting the faucet off, R.D. hurried back into the closet and down the stairs. 

Since the arm’s fingers were all in a very bad way by now, Caliban had turned his attention to the wrist. His hands were shaking as he held it in a vice-like grip, turning it every which way, eliciting all sorts of pops and cracks that would’ve been stomach-churning to anyone else. 

“Caliban..?” R.D. called out, making sure to keep her voice low and even. 

Her husband still flinched, freezing in place before glancing over his shoulder. The tears were still sliding down, one after another. 

R.D. walked closer. 

He wasn’t avoiding her eyes. That was a good sign. A very small one, but better than nothing.

“It’s…it’s getting pretty late.” R.D. stopped right beside him, reaching over to put her hand over his. He didn’t budge to stop her. 

Caliban tilted his head; even with all the concrete between his den and their house’s first level, there was no way he hadn’t heard the water running 

Slowly, carefully, she lifted his left hand away from the gruesome project. “Why don’t you take a break, huh?” 

Caliban chewed his lip, finally glancing away. A concoction of anger and pain was still very much present in his eyes, but now they were looking more and more tired by the second.

Exhausted, really.

“Okay,” he murmured, reaching up to scrub his face with the heel of his hand. His voice was much smaller and choked-up than usual—none of the unhinged energy R.D. had taken to rolling her eyes and trying not to smile at. As though his lungs had been buried in layers of something viscous and rotten and wrong. 

...Aaaaaannd that was a bad sign. She’d technically handed a pun right to him, and he didn’t even seem to register it.

He moved to go through the block-island’s drawers, but R.D. kept her hold on his hand, shaking her head. 

“No, don’t worry about that—I’ll take care of it. You go ahead,” she mentioned, nodding to the stairs.

Caliban sucked his teeth, then took a deep breath and trudged up the steps, head hanging. 

R.D. watched him go, then fished a few sheet of butcher paper from the drawer. Once the arm was wrapped up good and tight, she carried it over to the refrigerator. 

The bones inside obviously weren’t in a condition to be sold anymore. Plus…however much time had passed since Caliban had returned, he clearly hadn’t eaten anything. Even if he wasn’t in the mood at the moment, she knew he’d be hungry later.  

After making sure the den’s door was locked, R.D. flicked off the light and headed back upstairs. 

The bathroom door hung open ajar; Snare was pacing back-and-forth just in front of the threshold, almost like a sentry, his little face still screwed up with worry. R.D. reached down to scratch at the hare’s chin. Once he moved to the side, she lightly rapped her knuckles against the door. 

The response she got was a questioning hum, so she moved to look inside. 

Caliban lay against the far side of the bathtub, one elbow propped up so he could rest his head on his hand. Though pretty much everything was covered in a thick blanket of soap suds, it was still easy to see the scars littered about his shoulders and chest. Some were older than others. 

That was just life in the underground businesses: tough. Even if you had the right (or wrong, depending on the perspective) mentality for it.

“Are you feeling sick?” R.D. inquired, since it would’ve been pointless to ask if he was just okay. 

“...Not exactly,” Caliban replied after a long few seconds. “My head hurts, but that’s about it.” 

R.D. nodded. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Caliban shook his head. The vague hurt was still clear as crystal on his face, but a good chunk of stress had vanished. His shoulders were less tense than earlier, his brow wasn’t furrowed, he wasn’t grinding his teeth. 

That was the simple magic of warm water, R.D. supposed.

“Alright, then.” She took a step back, then added, “I’ll be right outside if you change your mind.”

“Thanks.” His voice was still a little weak, but not as tight as it was a few moments ago. 

R.D. stepped away, pulling the bathroom door shut with a soft click. 

After that, she let out a small sigh and headed down the hall, making sure all the house’s blinds were closed and all the locks were engaged. 

What could’ve happened earlier? 

Caliban hadn’t said anything about a hit-job lately. He’d just been focused on a few clients, harvesting and cleaning specific parts for them to eventually collect. 

He usually approached his stress a few different ways—butchering and eating was one of them, which made sense. Giving your stomach something to concentrate on could break up whatever storm was going on in your skull. 

But for something to just…make a cannibal lose his appetite like this? 

Whatever it was, it had to be serious, had to be awful. 

Once the house was secure, R.D. returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She rummaged through the drawers of the mahogany dresser that stood across from the bed, quickly fishing out a set of fluffy pajamas. The fabric of the bottom-half was tinted pale shades of pink, covered in purple splotches that you’d have to squint at to recognize as a pattern of microscopic basal cells. 

R.D. settled down on the bed, untying the side-braid she pretty much always put her hair in each morning, pushing the pillows on either side against the headboard. Reaching over to the nightstand, she produced the novel she’d recently brought home from Barnes & Noble. 

The Edge of Sleep; she was a little over halfway through it. It’d seemed like slowburn at the first couple chapters, but then it just…took so many turns. Really morbid, investing stuff. It truly seemed like the perfect combination of a psychologist’s worst nightmare and dream-come-true.

R.D. wasn’t sure how much time passed since she cracked the book open; immersed as she was, her ears didn’t pick up on the gurgling sound of a bathtub draining. 

Soon enough, however, she felt the mattress dip under foreign weight beside her. And then there was an arm wrapping around her waist, and then another, both gently pulling her close. 

She looked up from the story, glancing to the side.

Caliban had already changed into his own sleepwear: a soft tank-top adorned by a picture of a cluster of venus fly traps, printed to look like their vines were weaving through the fabric.

His face was freshly-washed. He still looked less than happy, but more tired than before. Hopefully he’d get plenty of rest tonight. 

“So, what happened?” R.D. ventured, sidling closer to him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Caliban answered. In that split-second, his voice sounded so bitter, almost acidic.

R.D. didn’t flinch. She knew she didn’t need to, as well as how he needed to see that.

“No,” he repeated, much softer this time, shaking his head and holding her a bit tighter.

“Well, that’s just fine.” R.D. nodded and shrugged at the same time. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He’d tell her in due time, when he was ready…or, maybe he just wouldn’t tell her at all. She knew he wouldn’t lie to her, wouldn’t try to hide anything perse. Some things just had to be buried. 

They would just have to see. 

Caliban shuffled against the pillows before resting his chin on her shoulder.

Snare hopped up over the foot of the bed, walking in a small circle before curling up by his owner’s ankles.

R.D.’s focus went back to the novel. For a moment, at least.

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she could sense the hesitation Caliban was feeling now. It would’ve been pretty hard not to, if she was honest. 

She raised a hand to brush her hair away from her shoulder. She then tilted her head ever-so-slightly, opening access to her neck. 

Almost immediately she felt teeth grazing her skin.

Nowhere near enough pressure to draw blood, or even leave any markings. 

Not biting. Just…light nibbling. 

Just something to let her know that Caliban was being careful. That he’d stop if she signaled for him to, that he wasn’t going anywhere no matter what was happening. That he was just here.

Lips quirking a little, R.D. reached around until her fingers settled in his hair. After all, she had to show him that she was here, too.

Time seemed to slow down after that. 

Sooner or later, the nibbling stopped, and she felt him press a kiss to the same spot. Like that was to make it better, despite no damage having been done at all. 

“Love you,” Caliban murmured, a smile finally etching its way onto his face. It wasn't one of the wide, toothy, maniacal grins he liked using for his work, but it was still nice to see.

“Love you, too,” R.D. replied, pushing the book away and guiding him to lie down with her.

@sammys-magical-au @the-matpat-ever @b-is-in-the-closet @im-a-weird0