#ariadne and mateo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fearhims3lf · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @ariadnewhitlock @fearhims3lf

SUMMARY: Ariadne hears about Mateo's mean streak and decides to give him a haunt, but she quickly finds out that they both share the same nature.

WARNINGS: Insinuation of sibling death

Ghouls, ghouls, ghouls night out…!

Mateo fell into his bed, arms crossed behind his head, and an expression of euphoric satisfaction plastered across his face. His headphones blared with the last notes of the Misfits distorted guitar. They faded into the next song, and Mateo sucked his teeth, a little miffed at the opportunity he didn’t get to take.

Too Drunk to Fuck by the Dead Kennedys roared to life, a perfect song for the man he’d been sent to kill. He was way too hammered to fuck anyone, especially the woman that stormed out of his room in disappointment. And then, with great relief to everyone, he was way too hammered to do anything ever again. Mateo chuckled to himself, closing his eyes as he thought about his latest kill. The police would have a field day trying to figure out who killed him. The mare was across the world and the next kill was already on the docket. All he needed to do was wait for the check to clear and he’d move out.

For now, though? Well, it was time to relax with his eyes closed. Or so Mateo thought. There was a rustling at the end of his bed, and with no pets to account for, he opened his eyes to find a strange girl standing in his room. “What the fuck?!” He bursted out of bed, grabbing the bat next to his bed in preparation. It was more of a warning than anything. It wasn’t like homegirl would be able to take him…right?

“Yo, you got about ten seconds to explain before I start swinging. How’d you get in here?!”

She’d heard that this Mateo wasn’t always so nice. Ariadne didn’t know the specifics or anything, but if he was mean, then maybe, just possibly, she wouldn’t feel quite as awful about feeding from him. Maybe.

Or at least she could try harder to not feel bad, and then be on her way. She didn’t have to focus on it – on him – too much. Go in, get out, and go find Wynne and cuddle against them, maybe. Or maybe she’d just go to her apartment, because explaining what was going on to Wynne wasn’t something Ariadne was sure she could handle, right now.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was for him to be awake. She held up her hands, letting out a small squeak – this was like that doctor lady all over again, except that this time she hadn’t even done anything when he’d woken up, and at least she’d started to cause nightmares for the doctor. “I – I walked in. The door was unlocked!” She had no clue if that was true, but it seemed a good enough bet. She’d learned that more people in this town left their doors unlocked than she ever would’ve thought. “Sorry, I was just – hungry, and I wanted to see if you had any…” she scrunched up her face. “Any… ice cream. ‘Cause I was really craving cookie dough.”

“Are you shitting me right now?” There was a literal child mare in his room, and she was too dumb to even make a good cover story on the fly or cover her glowing red eyes. A laugh almost escaped Mateo, but instead, he groaned when he realized he wasn’t going to get to wack someone. He couldn’t hurt a kid. Not even if they broke into his home.

Well…he could hurt them a little.

Mateo closed the distance and lightly smacked the girl on the head, like any sensible person would do when a child did something stupid. “You do realize I’m a grown man and you’re tiny, right? Pick your battles better.” He huffed as he flashed his own glowing eyes at the girl, throwing the bat aside on his way to the kitchen. Whether or not the girl would follow, Mateo wasn’t sure, but he guessed he’d find out once he reached his freezer.

“I got cookies ‘n cream and cookie dough.” Taking both containers out, he waved them in front of his chest, teasing. “Now, you can have some, but you gotta answer some questions.” Mateo plopped the ice cream onto his dining table and went for two bowls and spoons, sliding them next to the sweets. “You in, or you out?” He took a seat, gesturing to the delicious flavors in front of him. “Personally, I like to mix them together. Put both flavors in the bowl and really go to town. But…” He waved the food off, shrugging. “Guess you won’t know unless ya talk.”

“No?” She looked at him, wide-eyed, and only then realized that his eyes were also red. What a win she’d had here, huh? Maybe somebody had mentioned him being a jerk just because of what he was, and by logic or whatever, that meant she was also a jerk. Even if Ariadne didn’t think she’d ever actually heard anybody call her that. Still, if one mare was a jerk, maybe they all were.

Except she’d never call Leila or Inge that.

“I’m not that tiny. I’m taller than a lot of my friends, actually. My cousin just says I’ve got like, tiny energy or whatever? I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes (for maybe the first time in forever) and turned on her heels to follow him. “Do you like, fake-sleep a lot, then? Because I do, but that’s mostly because I have a partner. I’m sorry I tried to feed on you, though.” Ariadne looked up at him sheepishly.

“Got chocolate sauce? I’ll answer questions, yeah.” She looked over to him, red eyes wide. “Just – not too personal, please.” Because she didn’t want to talk about what a bad person she was, or about how she’d died in detail. “Do I get to know your name, by the way?”

Mateo couldn’t help the chortle that spilled out of him, and he rolled his eyes to compliment the reaction. “Right, right…” He drawled, waving her off. “I guess? It’s just nice to close my eyes. Sometimes there’s nothing better to do.” Her cousin was definitely right. She had tiny energy. Tinier than most people he’d met. Whether or not he’d be able to tolerate it though, was to be discovered.

He paused, arching a brow at the mention of a partner. How old was this girl? She looked like a child. “If you pretend a lot for them, then that means they’re probably alive, then?” With a shrug, Mateo nodded and threw open the fridge to retrieve the chocolate sauce the girl requested.

“Don’t wanna know anything too personal anyway, homie.” He popped open all the containers, getting his own bowl ready to eat. “My name’s Mateo.” The bottle of chocolate sauce clicked closed, the final touches applied. He slid the bottle, along with everything else toward the girl, gesturing for her to make her own bowl too. “What about you? Got a name I get to know?”

“I get that. I wish I could sleep, because sleeping is nice. Was nice, I guess,” Ariadne shook her head. She didn’t know why she was going on about that so much, except she was still startled and surprised enough from finding out that the dude she’d tried to feed from was also a mare that she wasn’t keeping her composure best as she could. Not that she was entirely sure what a good version of keeping her composure would have been, but still.

“Oh, they are very alive yeah. Very much so. Human and alive and the best person I’ve ever ever met.” Ariadne narrowed her eyes. “You better not feed on them, like, ever.” She knew she wasn’t much of a threat at all, but she did also know that she’d do anything that she could in order to make sure that Wynne was never harmed, at least not by a mare, at least not when she could control it.

Well, that was something, at least. He didn’t want to know things that were too personal, and for that she was extremely grateful. “Ariadne.” She responded, “is my name.” She grabbed the chocolate sauce and fixed herself a bowl of ice cream, taking a hefty scoop into her mouth, chewing before she continued. “It’s from a myth, and I – I like it, even though I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody else with the same name as me.”

“Well that can’t be true now.” Mateo grinned confidentially, fingers interlacing as his elbows propped onto the table. “You’ve met me now, so they can’t be the best person.” It was all in jest. Sort of. Mateo’s ego was huge, but he knew better than to let that influence his entire tone. He played it safe and accompanied his statement with a laugh, waving himself off before reassuring his new mare friend. “But don’t worry. Don’t want a mare nipping at my heels while I’m trying to eat, so they’re so safe.” Mateo raised his hand, promising. “Scout’s honor, ma.” He was never a scout, but the sentiment still had to stand. At least, he thought it should.

“Ariadne.” Not a name he’d heard before, but there was a flair to it that almost felt Latin coming off of his tongue. Had to be a culture that somewhat intersected, but that hardly mattered when they were getting to know each other and Ariadne didn’t exactly know where the name came from. Besides, there was something Mateo was far more interested in. He took a bite of his ice cream, humming at the taste. “How long you been a mare? ‘Cause it sure as hell hasn’t been very long if you’re jumpin’ around like this. And, well…” Another bite, “You got that weird moral compass thing going on.”

“I – well, I mean, I’ve only just met you.” Her words caught in her throat, “and I – well, I’m their girlfriend and they’re my partner, so… I think they’re always gonna be the best.” Ariadne shook her head, forcing her gaze to anywhere but the other mare. Because she wasn’t sure exactly what to make of him, or what, exactly, he made of her, which was all the more confusing, but not something she could focus on right now. “But you’re very cool. I’ll say that! I just think I have to reserve best for either my best friend or the person I’m in love with.”

She pulled at the strands of her hair a moment, “I’ve – like, not more than a year. Or, a bit more than a year, but not long. Is it really that obvious?” Ariadne took a too-big bite of her ice cream. “Also, wait, what’s wrong with a moral compass? That’s good to have, I thought, right?” Though she wasn’t sure if Celene would’ve agreed, but that wasn’t something she was going to discuss with a stranger. “Also wait, what do you mean, jumping around? How else am I supposed to get places?”

Mateo rolled his eyes, unable to relate to the lovey dovey vibes Ariadne was giving off. It was all too sickly sweet for his liking. “Well I don’t do the whole…” He gestured vaguely to Ariadne with a playful grimace, chuckling as he refocused on his ice cream. “Love…relationship…thing.” Grabbing the chocolate sauce, he dowsed his bowl even further, shrugging with agreement at Ariadne’s correct assessment of who Mateo was. Though he was sure the girl was just being sweet, as she always seemed to be. It wasn’t something he could understand, but as always, to each their own.

“Moral compass can be fine and all, but having too much of one can make you too vulnerable and naive.” Mateo huffed, taking another bite of his ice cream. “You gotta know when to let go of morals, and trust me, there are times where you gotta. Don’t make you a bad person, but being sweet all the time can be dangerous if you’re in this supernatural world.” Taking a final bite, Mateo slid his bowl off to the side, clasping his hands together on the table.

“As far as jumping goes, you gotta know where you’re going, or shit like this happens.” Mateo gestured between the pair. “Not everyone is so nice, and not everyone is gonna be a mare like me. ‘Cause, sure, jumping around is how we get to our meals, but without strategizing, you could get fucked, and not—” Mateo stopped himself from being too crude, waving off his words dismissively. “You know. Whatever.” Shrugging, he moved from his seat to place his dirty bowl in the sink for it to soak. “But yeah. That’s what makes it obvious. Lack of planning. I was like that too when I first started, but I’m, like, five years in now.”

“Oh, well, okay. That’s fine! Lots of people don’t, probably, so…” Ariadne wasn’t sure where exactly she was going with that particular train of thought, but Mateo didn’t seem to mind too much, if at all, so maybe this was some sort of blessing of luck to balance out the utter disaster that tonight was, otherwise.

“It’s – it’s not bad. I like having morals.” She was trying her very best not to pout, because that would only make her come off as immature, and she didn’t want anybody – but especially any other mare – to think of her that way. To think of her like a little kid. Because she wasn’t. Even if Ariadne was never going to look like a full-grown adult, she still did want to be treated with respect and not just pushed to the side, or babied.

“I did know where I was going. I heard somebody say you were mean, and I prefer to feed on mean people, and so I came here, and I – we – can’t tell when somebody’s a mare, so I just didn’t know until, well, you know.” She stuffed another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, chewed, before she rapidly shook her head again. “Not that – I didn’t know you, so that’s not me calling you mean. You seem very nice, actually! So. Yeah.” Ariadne made another face. “Not what? But okay. Well, I – I just go where I think is best. You’ve done this for five years? When does it get easier?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Goody-goody.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes again, glaring a little at the idea of being seen as nice. “Well, I am mean. I’m just—you’re a mare. Easier to be nice when it’s a peer.” Mateo clicked his tongue and watched with a hint of amusement on his face while Ariadne attempted to explain herself away. She definitely didn’t know what she was doing, and while Mateo wanted to tease her further, it didn’t feel like it’d be much fun. Especially considering she seemed a little more emotional. And young.

“Honestly, chica?” Mateo pursed his lips as he sifted through his memories. He couldn’t think of a specific moment when it all clicked for him, nor could he think of a general moment in time. The last five years had been such a blur. After his first kill, everything fell into place, but with Ariadne’s sense of morality, Mateo doubted she’d have a similar experience. “No idea. I just sorta…happened.” He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on just two legs. “Think it’s different for everyone. Obviously. But I think once you settle into your life and don’t even realize time is passing, that’s when you know.”

“I thought peers were like, only people close in age to you? No offense, but you are like a fully adult adult, so I guess I never thought of it that way.” Nonetheless, Ariadne shook her head. “But okay, I’m glad you’re down to be nice to me, I like when people are nice.” She offered a tentative smile because he still seemed impossible to get a read on, even though he couldn’t be that bad given how quickly he’d turned into caring and had offered her ice cream. She still wanted to tread lightly, if only because of her near-perpetual worry that she was seconds away from messing something up big time.

“Oh.” She took another big scoop of ice cream, leaving her bowl nearly all empty, and stuffed it into her mouth to give herself a few moments to think. “Oh. Well, maybe it’ll happen to me. I hope it’ll happen to me sometime, though I dunno when I can expect that, and…” Ariadne bit down on her tongue. “Yeah, that makes sense, but also time does pass, and I guess I’m still super hyper aware of that. Did you – did the mare who made you stick around?” Part of her wanted to know if the whole up and abandon schtick was a typical thing, and she wasn’t sure which answer would disappoint her more.

“Well, I won’t always be nice, so be warned.” He rubbed at his face and chuckled, narrowing his eyes at Ariadne. How could someone be so nice all the time? Mateo didn’t get it, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to at all. While not everyone deserved cruelty all the time, he certainly didn’t believe they deserved kindness all the time either. People were stupid and often indifferent anyway, and that’s how Mateo liked to be most days. Neutrality on humanity saved him a lot of time, and helped him avoid social interactions not unlike the one he was in now. He wished it would end, if only to avoid uncomfortable questions.

Very much like the one about who changed him.

“Yeah.” The man swallowed with a twitch of his nose and a clack from his chair meeting the ground again. “He-Yeah. Stuck around.” And I asked him to change me. I asked my own brother to change me and I…Mateo sniffed sharply and drummed his fingers to soothe himself slightly before he snapped at Ariadne. “Think we’re done here, chica.” He chewed at the inside of his lips and drummed faster, his posture stiffening up uncomfortably. Anxiety wasn’t something he was inflicted with enough to know how to handle it correctly, but he knew how to hide his emotions. That was the appropriate thing to do, right?

Thank you, dad.

“You should go. We’re a few hours from sunrise and I gotta get ready for company.”

“Okay, well, I think being nice is good, but I respect your choices too!” Even if she didn’t understand them, and even if Ariadne found herself grateful that she’d met people like Leila and Inge before Mateo. He wasn’t bad! She absolutely didn’t think that, but he probably wouldn’t have wanted to help her out in the same way that the others had. Which itself had been a saving grace since she’d felt so incredibly lost and adrift.

“That – well, that’s good. You had somebody around. Mine … didn’t. Probably ‘cause she was ashamed of me, but I don’t know for sure.” And she felt her chest tighten at the thought of it, and so even if the snapping did make her jump, Ariadne was also grateful for it. Welcomed it, even in its uncomfortableness.

“Okay, okay – we can go.” She fidgeted slightly. “I mean, I can. Go. I’ll go, unless you want help setting up for your company.” Which Ariadne figured he probably very much did not, but it would’ve been rude not to at least ask, right?

There definitely was no off button for this inherent goodness inside Ariadne. It contradicted everything that Mateo had witnessed and knew of the world. He didn’t understand it, and if the conversation hadn’t veered toward their creator’s, he might’ve asked more about her perspective, or even let her stay to help him clean up what little mess there was. Mentally, he shrugged, and physically, he pushed himself from the table.

“Don’t want help.” He huffed, scratching at his cheek and moving on as quickly as he could. On instinct, he went to the door to urge Ariadne to go through it, but quickly realized it wasn’t necessary and quickly steered himself back to his bedroom. “Just blip outta here.” For the love of god, please just blip away. Mateo plopped himself into his bed and let his face remain in his pillow for a while. Memories of Junior flooded his mind and he was thankful then that there was no need to breathe as he cried for the first time in months.

It was a relief in one way, and a deep shame in another, but no one, not even Ariadne, had to know. Out of kindness, she’d blip away. That was the hope at least. And given that Mateo was met with silence for over half an hour, he knew he had been left to his own devices. He was alone and could leave himself buried.

Just not in the same way he’d left Junior.

#wickedswriting #writings #nightmarescapes #ariadne and mateo #c: ariadne #sibling death tw

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rn-zane · 2 years ago

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TIMING: right after this snack SETTING: the hospital PARTIES: @nightmaretist + @rn-zane SUMMARY: zane has accidentally made a name for himself as a helper of the undead. inge found out. WARNINGS: descriptions of wound stitching and anaesthesia injections

She was something else here, in the astral. Here, Inge wasn’t that useless human body that could rip and tear and bleed and ache — here she was something more fluid in stead. That didn’t mean she felt at peace right now, though: she was aware that her earthly body (the one that did, at the end of the day, seem crucial to her survival) was bleeding. Heavily. And though she wasn’t sure if she could die from blood loss, it was going to be an issue if the glitter kept flowing. If she showed up to work with an open bite wound on her upper arm.

Her mind jumped from option to option, though they were limited. She didn’t want to show up at Mateo’s again, another injury to an arm sustained. Ariadne was too inexperienced, she figured. Inge thought of other immortal friends, but this wasn’t just the kind of minor injury she usually sought help for. This required not just a bandage and some pressure and a whole lot of hope. And so her mind traveled to the vampire girl, from Dance Macabre. Who’d spoken of a vampiric nurse, who had helped. She’d spread the good word, a tip from one undead to another. If you’re ever in trouble …

Well, she was in trouble now.

And so she’d stalked the nurse from the astral, watching him tend to patients, talk to colleagues, move around the hospital that she assumed smelled like every hospital. Eventually, he moved into a storage closet and that’s when Inge grabbed her chance. She appeared on the earthly plane, her wounds immediately pulsing glitter again and pressed the heel of her boot against the door to keep it closed. “Zane, right? I heard that you —” The hand on her not-hurt arm gestured at the wound. “Can help.” She refused to sound panicked, but she did. “Please.”

—

Being back at the hospital after such a long break was both a relief and absolutely panic inducing at the same time. Wynne had long since been discharged but that didn’t stop Zane from seeing their face in every young person that came in, seeing the damage he had caused while he stitched up an array of regular cuts and wounds. He knew he was helping people by being here but feeling good about that was wrong in a way. Did he deserve to give himself a pat on the back after everything? Did he deserve to try and drown the guilt in other people’s ‘thank yous’ and smiles?

He’d managed fine for most of the shift until someone had come in with a neck wound. Two perfectly round wounds and a patient with significant blood loss. The panic had gripped his heart, constricted it, and Zane found himself brushing past a colleague, muttering about needing a break before finding himself in one of the storage closets. Back braced against the door, breathing harsh and fast and how could he feel close to passing out when he didn’t even need air?

If not for the heavy breathing, he probably would have screamed at the person that materialized from thin air in front of him. All that came out was a quiet yelp, feet stumbling and shoulder banging into one of the shelves. Packaged syringes and needles tumbled to the ground as he stared wide eyed at the woman. Was she… covered in glitter?

“Yeah?” he replied cautiously to the sound of his own name, panic easing slightly once he finally took note of the worried look on her face. Not aggressive, not scary - but scared. And asking for help. “I…” Zane glanced down at the arm that, yes, seemed to be bleeding but in glitter form. What in the world… “Maybe?” All questions of how she had appeared in the room, how she knew his name, why she was bleeding like that were put on hold. Help. He could at least try to help.

“Just… sit down. Let me… take a look?”

—

Inge had, perhaps foolishly, expected something a little more. It was entirely possible that Sasha had spoken too highly of the vampire that stood across her now, because as he yelped and looked her up and down, she wondered how prepared either of them were for this. But she couldn’t think too deeply on it, her glittery blood drizzling down continuously. Oh, God. She blinked, feeling dizzy and sick with it all.

These things weren’t supposed to happen. There was, if you asked her, some kind of unspoken thing between fellow undead — and that was that you didn’t feed off each other. For mares, it was an easy rule to follow: it wasn’t like there were any nightmares to leech off in the minds of vampires and zombies. But then, their kind … well, as it turned out a zombie’s teeth were still very much capable of doing damage against her dead flesh, and so it seemed logical that a vampire could do the same. But it wasn’t supposed to happen, so she assumed that the vampire nurse wouldn’t.

He asked her to sit, and she looked around, frantic, until sinking down on an upturned bucket. Lucky. Her fingers inched towards her hurt arm, touching the edge of it but pulling away as she felt the damage. She hissed, because she’d rather do that than whimper. She looked up, eyes uncharacteristically wide with panic. “A zombie,” she explained. “Feral. Just kept going until I could get away.”

She wasn’t sure how this went. It had been so long since she’d seen a doctor. Decades, a lifetime — she and Sanne had always patched each other up, and then there had been fellow undead who’d helped at times. And then, of course, were all the times where she’d sewed herself back up. Inge couldn't, this time. So she looked at the vampire, who wasn’t a doctor but as close as she would be able to get. “I don’t want any other doctors. Got it? No humans.” A tinge of panic remained. “It’s a flesh wound. You get them all the time. Just please.”

—

Inhaling deeply through his nose in a futile attempt at calming himself, Zane found himself much too wound up to put his finger on what exactly this woman smelled like. Not blood, obviously, something dark that smelled more like a concept than an actual thing. Something he had no time to be wondering about now, he scolded himself. Keeping one eye on her, whatever she was, Zane dug around the storage room and thanked some unknown entity that she’d cornered him in here, where there was at least something to work with. Even though being in better circumstances would be preferable but he couldn’t very well bring that into the middle of the ER.

Hands stilled on the tray of stitching utensils as the word ‘zombie’ filled the room and he wondered what else lived in this town that he still had no clue about. Yet another thing for him to focus on later because right now, the desperate ‘please’ was all that mattered. Head turning over his shoulder, attention now fully on the woman, Zane gave what he hoped was a comforting nod. “I’ll do my best.”

Utensils gathered, that he hoped would do the trick, Zane dropped to his knees in front of her, hands moving gently to her arm. Everything looked as it should except for whatever was bleeding from her. “What’s your name?” he asked softly as he wrapped a tourniquet around her arm and tightened it. It slowed the bleed some but… if he’d thought stitching with blood obscuring the field was difficult, this was a new level of insane. Trying to clean it up some, working quickly but gently, he added, “and how did you know my name?”

—

Her eyes focused on the door for a moment, wondering if she should have attempted to block it before sitting herself down and handing herself over to the care of this nurse. Inge imagined it bursting open and something standing there — not a doctor or an ignorant human, but rather another snarling creature, or a hunter brandishing an ax. It had been so long since she’d felt paranoid, but sometimes her skill in making any situation scary betrayed her, made her see demons everywhere.

“Can you make sure no one comes in?” When she heard herself speak she felt almost ill with how she barely recognized herself. Or, rather — how she recognized that voice, but hadn’t heard it in years. She sounded like something wounded, something that needed assistance and help, something that was afraid. Something human. Inge gathered some of the flesh of her cheek and bit down before swallowing thickly, hoping that would make her voice drop a few octaves.

There was another hiss that led into a whimper as he tightened the tourniquet, and her voice was decidedly not lower when she said, “My name is Inge.” She tried to remain still, to fight instinct to kick him off her and disappear into the astral. The smell of hospital haunted the interaction. She wanted to be alone and wail, strangely enough. “A vampire, at Dance Macabre … Sasha, she told me. That you were a nurse. That you were undead.” She clenched her jaws. “I obviously can’t go to a human doctor. So.”

—-

It hadn’t even occurred to him, the thought that someone might barge in here and lay eyes on this mess of a situation. Since Zane had no interest in trying to explain it to anyone with a pulse, he figured her idea was a good one. Besides, anything that might help calm her down was a plus since she seemed ready to go crawling up the walls. Door locked, Zane prayed that no one would need anything from in here for the next few minutes and start banging on the door, he settled back down with Inge.

“Alright, Inge.” He offered his best attempt at a comforting smile, still just trying to wrap his head around the way she had materialized in the room. Bringing up a small syringe with xylocaine, hoping that the numbing effect would work on things that bled glitter, Zane stilled at the mention of the familiar name. A genuine and soft smile replaced the forced one, heart feeling lighter for a moment at the thought of her. Even though this current scenario was far from ideal and didn’t quite match up with how he’d imagined helping people that had nowhere else to go, it was helpful nonetheless.

“Small pinch,” he warned before administering the local anesthetic. “Yeah, I think the whole glitter thing would have freaked them out even more than it did me.” Hoping that talking would help distract Inge and not freak her out more, Zane continued. “Sorry for freaking out earlier, by the way. Just never seen anyone appear inside a room before. I’m glad you came here, though. Glad that Sasha told you.”

—

The door was locked and it wasn’t enough to still the unrest in her, but it was something. A small barrier. Besides, why would a slayer be here? Hospitals didn’t tend to attract the undead, except for perhaps vampires keen on stealing blood bags. Inge rationalized against herself, arguing viciously with the thoughts that tried to bring her back to that frazzled version of herself she’d been when human. She tried to focus on the nurse in front of her, who had kind eyes. Since when did she care about kind eyes?

He didn’t say what was in the syringe and she was close to slapping it from his hands, or at least tightening her good hand around his wrist to still it and demand an answer. Another wave of irrational fear — what if it contained something that could make her feel like those bright lights had? What if this was another ploy, a cold girl in a bar of undead pointing desperate undead towards a hunter? Inge opened her mouth to argue but knew, somewhere, that she oughtn’t. That there were no other corners to turn to right now.

These things weren’t supposed to happen. And yet they kept happening. She let him administer the anesthetic and grimaced. Inge frowned at the rest of his words. “Shit.” So her instincts had been right. “Shit, you don’t know about mares? I thought —” Her eyes cast up. At least he didn’t seem to be a slayer. A slayer would know. She looked back at the vampire, noting how feeling seemed to seep out of her arm. The edges of her pain dulling. She figured she’d use whatever energy she had on filling him in, rather than her paranoia and grumbling about a feral zombie. “Whatever. It — I am like you, undead. Losing a ton of blood – or, well, whatever this is –” Energy? Sometimes Sanne and her had called it that. “– is still bad for me. I scar and heal like humans.”

—

As Zane worked, he fell into the routine of providing comforting looks and confident touch, hoping to instill some calm in Inge despite his own raging lack of chill. The fact that he outed himself as having no clue what he was actually working with proved to do the exact opposite. “Not really,” he admitted sheepishly, using her distraction to poke the needle at her skin, garnering no reaction. At least the anesthetic had worked - one less thing to worry about. “I’ve heard just a little bit, and I have a… pet that sort of does what you guys do? Feeding on nightmares, I mean.”

Inge provided a bit more explanation than he had gotten from his brief discussion about mares online and the phrase ‘like you’ stuck with him. Made sense that Sasha had divulged his secret to the mare and it was a nice thought that there might be more people, other than vampires, that understood what it was like to not have a beating heart. “I would try to comfort you by telling you this won’t leave a big scar but… I don’t think even the best stitches would do that.” Honesty was usually the best policy but hopefully Inge cared more about not dying (again) than having a scar.

And then he started the job of stitching, gloved hands immediately picking up flecks of glitter that made this feel like a strange dream. “Let me know if anything hurts and I can add more anesthesia,” Zane provided softly, for once grateful that the shit lighting in here didn’t affect his ability to see what he was doing. “How did you do that, by the way? Just appear in here? I mean, I can’t walk into places without an invitation which seems a bit unfair,” he attempted to joke as he worked.

As soon as the source of the “bleeding” seemed decently shut off, he sighed a breath of relief and loosened the tourniquet that was undoubtedly starting to hurt. “That should stop more, uh… stuff from coming out.”

—

Oh, and the vampire had a baku. This was fantastic. Inge let out a sound of annoyance, but tried not to grumble too much over the other’s pet choice. “Well, consider this mare 101, then. Welcome to class.” It was almost funny. Funnier to her because she knew she was a professor, a detail she wouldn’t release just yet. “We’re not fond of pets. Or, well. Animals aren’t fond of us. They tend to distrust us, and respond accordingly.” Some cowered. Some got aggressive. Bakus were a whole other problem, but that too wasn’t something she wanted to just tell him.

He informed her that it’d become a scar and she sat with the news for a moment, considering it. This one would be different from most others, inflicted by an array of hunters. This one belonged to a zombie’s teeth. Inge let out a sigh – performative, as breathing wasn’t necessary – and shrugged with her good arm. “Alright. How do you reckon it’ll look? Ragged stitches? Or will I have a little bit of a hole in my arm forever?” No stitches could bring back the flesh that had been ripped from her, after all.

At least the anesthesia worked. She watched him do his work with mild interest, the horror of her own torn apart body intriguing even if it agitated her. She was nothing if not a connoisseur of gore, after all. Her own pain was commodified in other people’s nightmares. To look away was to admit that she was anything other than angry and ambivalent. (Which she was, of course.) “It’s not … comfortable. But it’s alright.” She chuckled. “Well, you get the fast healing and speed, so don’t be too jealous. I just have to let this mend the human way. By waiting. But we … can travel through a different dimension. It’s also how we access people’s dreams. It’s, I guess, why we’re not really made of blood, but rather … of energy.”

The needle stopped, the stitches done. They were neat, especially for the situation. Inge stared at them for a moment, let out a sound of relief when the tourniquet was released. “Thank you. So what’s your advice going forward … doctor?”

—-

Zane’s lips quirked at the mare’s exasperation - clearly, Sasha had painted way too pretty of a picture since her disappointment was so intense. He didn’t really mind, not knowing stuff was something he was very used to in all facets of life so why would the supernatural, after just a few crappy months of being a part of it, be any different. “Alright, not animal friendly. Noted,” he replied, genuine appreciation audible since this really was mare 101. Not like anyone had ever bothered to teach him anything, the clan really only mentioning feeding and healing. Slayers’ existence had been discovered the hard way and he was still thinking of ways to grill Emilio more on that. The rest of his undead community? Well, maybe Inge would be open to some more sharing when her arm wasn’t torn open.

She took the whole scar discussion in stride, asking questions that he didn’t have a perfect answer to. “Honestly? We’ll have to wait and see but… it will definitely be a bit… wonky.” Zane grimaced, face empathetic to the situation and also to the fact that she only had him to try and explain this, and he’d gone for the word ‘wonky.’”

It seemed she was up for at least a little bit more sharing, opening up a world of traveling through dimensions and energy and it was definitely making his head spin a little. Could Buddy travel through different dimensions? Man, he hoped not.

Sitting back once the job was done, Zane heaved a sigh of relief and admired his handiwork. Sure enough, a bit wonky but Inge would live - or continue her undead life, at least. He huffed out a nervous breath of laughter at his new title, looking earnestly at her. “Just… try not to pop the stitches by overworking your arm. Keep it clean and… avoid zombies?” He winced at his own comment but it did bring up a new thought. “Oh! I don’t know if you, if we, can get infections but…” He clambered to his feet, glancing at the closed door. “I think we should get you a tetanus shot to be safe? Maybe rabies, too…”

—

It was such a stupid part of being a mare, Inge thought. Animals not liking them. It seemed like such a superficial problem, but then there were those dogs that felt the need to chase after her in public. The teeth marks in her skin. “I’m very animal friendly,” she countered, “I don’t eat meat. Animals are not friendly to me. It’s an important difference.” Not that she was particularly fond of animals, these days. She liked them in dreams, and that was it.

Wonky. She pulled a face, looking at her arm and the bit of missing meat. It was easy to obscure, but she liked going around with bare shoulders. At least it was getting colder. “Fine. I mean. It’s not like zombies go around thinking about how their vic–” Inge stopped herself mid sentence, avoiding the word victims. “– meals will look once they’re done with ‘em. Just a scar. Still got my brain, at least.” She wondered what her brain looked like. She was just rambling now, filling empty air because she couldn’t cope with it, the silence. The numbness of her arm.

She nodded at his advice, which was annoying but fair. She’d have to take it easy working, then. She let out a bit of a chuckle. “I’ve met quite a few zombies in my time, none of them were ever ballsy enough to make a meal out of me. It’s not like our type are nutritious.” Inge looked at the mess of glittery blood. “That wouldn’t satiate you. And I can’t feed off you, either. And still that bitch ate me. Jesus.” She was still in disbelief, and that didn’t happen often.

She stood up as well, considering the question. “Um, sure. Don’t know … if it’d work, but no harm no foul, right?” Inge looked at the glittery mess of her clothing. Maybe she just looked like she came from some kind of party, now. She pulled her sleeve down, glanced at the door. She felt a tenseness at the prospect of the hospital, but she might as well. God knew she got bitten by dogs enough to warrant a shot, anyway. “Lead the way, Doc.”

#writing #thread:inge #inge.001 #nightmaretist

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movienized-com · 1 year ago

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El Roomie

El Roomie (2024) #OsvaldoBenavides #JoséEduardoDerbez #FionaPalomo #GiuseppeGamba #LeticiaCalderón #BárbaradeRegil Mehr auf:

Jahr: 2024 (Januar) Genre: Comedy / Romantik Regie: Osvaldo Benavides Hauptrollen: José Eduardo Derbez, Fiona Palomo, Giuseppe Gamba, Leticia Calderón, Bárbara de Regil, Uriel del Toro, Augusto Di Paolo, Ariadne Díaz, Carlos Ferro, Irving Lopez Mateos, Marcus Ornellas, Natalia Payan, Maite Perroni, Naia Pindas Sandoval … Filmbeschreibung: Die erfolglose Schriftstellerin Vivi nimmt den…

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#Fiona Palomo #Giuseppe Gamba #José Eduardo Derbez #Leticia Calderón #Pitipol Ybarra

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magmahearts · 2 years ago

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TIMING: late last night PARTIES: @fearhims3lf & @magmahearts LOCATION: the magmacave SUMMARY: mateo has a nice meal, and cass has a bad night. CONTENT: none

Sweet nightmares plagued the girl’s dreams, every attempt to shift her surroundings into a beautiful dream were quickly dissuaded. Years of experience, and Mateo was able to know just what to do. He took on many shapes, digging into his meal’s darkest terrors, and he loved it. Looking upon himself, he smiled in direct contrast to his prey. He was happiest when he got to watch them cower and cry. Looking into their eyes as he became their worst fears. In this case, he was a dead body lying on the floor, pleading for his dinner to save him. He was a mangled mess, held together with endless darkness, flesh, sinew, and grotesque black ooze.

The skin bubbled and burst with each move, skin shifting and breaking wetly as Mateo crept closer. “Help…me.” He begged, crawling toward the girl as he led other bodies to do the very same. A smile nearly curled on his face, but he had a job to do. It’d been a while since Mateo had had someone with this much guilt over a death. He could see into her memories, knew the group just did what needed to be done, but that was far from the case for Cass. He’d use her name to his advantage.

“Cass…it hurts. It hurts so much. What did we do? Why did you let this happen? Why did you let me die?”

Her dreams had always been varied. It wasn’t a nightmare every night — sometimes, she thought it might be easier if that were the case. If every dream was a nightmare, you at least knew to expect it. When decent dreams were scattered in with the bad, it made lying down to sleep feel like a game of Russian roulette. You didn’t know whether to be afraid or to let yourself drift off in peace.

Since Debbie’s death, the nightmares had become more frequent. It seemed to be getting worse instead of better; like the more time Debbie spent decaying in that pit, the more power she had over Cass’s dreams. Tonight’s was a familiar one — one where she’d messed up, one where her friends fell before Debbie did. Nora crawled towards her, bloody and broken, and Cass choked on her grief.

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered. There were more bodies behind her — Thea, Van, Ren. “I’m sorry. I tried to help. I wanted to help. Please.”

Oh, it was getting good. Her heart rate had to be rising. The pleas were enough to make Mateo’s skin crawl with satisfaction. He chased the feeling, making the room take shape instead of remaining vague shadows. They plumed and puffed, floating away to reveal walls. Blood seeped down with unnatural speed, quickly pooling together into a large mass. Cass’s friends were sucked into it, creating a bloody collection out of their bodies.

Together, Cass’s friends screamed. It was loud, shrill, and desperate. The room trembled and glass burst, sending shards every which way. When the scream finally died, everything was silent, but only for a moment. “Cass!” The voices came together in unison, the grotesque and bloody monster falling to its knees as it begged. Mateo felt invigorated, already so full from Cass’s initial shock of fear, but he was greedy. He wanted more.

“Why?! Why?! Why?!” The blood dripped from every crooked maw, the worst and most violent chorus ever to be created. “Why?! Why?! Why…?!”

Their bodies fell just as Debbie’s had, into a pit just for them. A new pit of decay, right here in the cave where she’d always felt safe before. Cass choked on a sob, running over to them and falling to her knees as their voices rose up in agonized screams. It wasn’t just the other girls who’d been in the supermarket anymore; it was Ariadne, too. It was Metzli, it was Elias, it was Leila. Everyone she’d convinced herself might care about her in this town, all mashed together into a monstrous, bloody pile of death and despair.

And all of them calling out her name.

What kind of a friend was she that she couldn’t save them? What kind of a hero, what kind of a person? She’d wanted to be loved for so long, more than anything. But she’d never stopped to consider whether or not she might deserve it. Gael’s words came back to her, reminding her that everyone deserved someone. But Gael was in that pile, too, just as dead as the rest of them.

Cass wailed, fingers scrambling for purchase among the rocks and the stones and coming away bloody. It wasn’t her blood; she wished it were. She’d rather be the one bleeding. “Tell me what I can do,” she begged. “Tell me how to help! Please!”

Guilt almost wrapped its fingers around Mateo’s throat seeing the girl beg. She was a full-fledged adult, and yet, something in Mateo’s mind screamed child. No family, no community, and just barely enough people to call friends. It was a bit too pathetic for his liking, but he persisted.

His greed won over and he deepened the pit, a wet, thunderous voice surrounding Cass. “You can’t do anything!” Tremors shook the ground beneath Cass’s feet, like a volcano threatening to erupt. “Your help only makes things worse!” Another rumble, another tear in the ground. “Who are you going to call? Your mom? Your dad? You don’t have those!” The rocks parted, blood spewing out with monstrous force, covering Cass in it. Mateo smiled to himself, feeling the crescendo looming closer. “Go ahead, scream.”

They were right, weren’t they? Any time Cass tried to help, all she ever did was ruin things. What did she expect to happen with her vigilante hobby? How did she think it was going to end? She got people hurt. It was the only thing she’d ever done. Kuma, Debbie, and now all her friends in a pit of blood and despair…

The ground beneath her shook and she didn’t know if it was her or the world rejecting her. There was no one to call; even her own parents hadn’t wanted her enough to protect her, to keep her safe. And then there was blood all over her, in her hair, on her hands… With nothing left to do, Cass did exactly what they were telling her to do: She screamed.

Cass’s scream was icing on the nightmare cake that Mateo had carefully mixed and baked to perfection. He laughed, the sounded echoing as if it were growing in volume and numbers. It surrounded Cass, suffocated her and taunted her in a way Mateo knew would follow her in the physical realm. To make it worse, he conjured a sky of vicious, sharp-toothed smiles, each one opening to belt out laughter at Cass’s expense.

“No puedes correr, chiquitín.” The voice rose in decibel, low and heavy. A voice fitting for a monster of Mateo’s making. He knew he was being too cruel, but it wasn’t something he would regret later. Making nightmares was what he was good at, what he enjoyed. And it wasn’t like he was going to be visiting her again anytime soon. So, as a final hoorah, Mateo widened one of the moths in the sky, looming it closer, and closer, and closer…until Cass had no other choice but to open her own as she awoke, fear spilling from her throat.

The sky was falling. She remembered that stupid story, the one for kids about a chicken and a crazy claim that no one believed. Who would believe her when she told them? The sky was falling, and Cass was the only one around to see it because she’d failed everyone else. She’d failed them so spectacularly that they were all gone now, that she was alone again. Gael was wrong, she thought; there were people who deserved to be alone. Cass was one of them.

An unfamiliar voice muttered something in a vaguely familiar language, and the sky was falling but maybe that was okay. Maybe that was what she deserved.

She woke with a choked sob, darkness all around her like a cloak. The realization that it was just a dream should have come with relief, but all she could feel was empty. As empty as the cave that surrounded her, as empty as her life had always been, as empty as she deserved to be. She pulled her knees up to her chest, quiet sobs filling the vast cavern.

She didn’t think she’d sleep again tonight.

#fearhims3lf #mateo: cave of nightmares #wickedswriting

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cherrysugcr · 3 years ago

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# all 22 as well let’s do it

THE READ MORE ISN’T WORKING RIP

Benedict & Rhiannon

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: RiRi ❣️ Girl - what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone: Leave the Door Open - Bruno Mars - my muse’s last text to your muse: “when can i see you again?” - what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

Adonis & Tallulah name: Llulu ringtone: Crash into me - Dave Matthews Band last text: “I bought you those trash energy drinks you love” contact photo:

Ross & Mia

name: Mia (Ballet Teacher) ringtone: Friday I’m in love - The Cure last text: “this weekend is ours, can’t wait to see you” contact photo:

Roman & Adelaide

name:💕 bby girl 💕 ringtone: sweet creature - harry styles last text: “good morning gorgeous, looking forward to date night” contact photo:

Grayson & Aaliyah

name: Goddess ringtone: speechless - dan + shay last text: “I’m stopping by the studio so you’ll be forced to take a break and eat something. I say that with love.” contact photo:

Deon & Blair

name: Wifey ringtone: that’s how strong my love is - otis redding last text: “I love saying ‘my wife’ because you’re incredibly” contact photo:

Kirk & Maya name: lover 💞 ringtone: Better Together - Jack Johnson last text: “meet me at the airport?” contact photo:

Cole & Presley name: my sweetheart ringtone: Watermelon Sugar - Harry Styles last text: “I’ll never be able to say sorry enough” contact photo:

Cassie & Taylor

name: cutie pie ringtone: kiss me - sixpence none the richer last text: “i miss your face 🥺 “ contact photo:

Pierce & Davina

name: Delightful Davina ringtone: “Old Phone” (found on iPhones) last text: “Can we talk about having another baby?” contact photo:

Donovan & Aziza name: Zee ringtone: XO - Beyoncé last text: “away games suck, i miss you” contact photo:

Joel & Delilah name: Boss Lady ringtone: You’re the Reason - Calum Scott last text: “don’t be mad for what I’m about to tell you” contact photo:

Connor & Gillian name: Pain in my Ass ringtone: Kiss Me More - Doja Cat ft. SZA last text: My office. Now. contact photo:

Sherrod & Cillian

name: My Girl ringtone: Perfect - One Direction last text: you coming over? contact photo:

Elton & Ariadne

name: The Queen ringtone: Sucker - Jonas Brothers last text: do i get to see your lovely self today? contact photo:

Brooke & Marcia name: Princess ringtone: Drunk in Love - Beyoncé last text: “Daddy needs to see you baby.” contact photo:

Warner & Helena name: Helena ringtone: Hungry Eyes - Eric Carmen last text: “I want to see you again, badly.” contact photo:

Alistir & Poppy name: Sweet Girl ringone: Something to Talk About - Bonnie Raitt last text: “Did you get my latest gift?” contact photo:

Mateo & Willa name: Ms. Willa ringtone: Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye last text: When’s our next interview? contact photo:

Rhett & Candice name: Candi Girl 😍 ringtone: You Sexy Thing - Hot Chocolate last text: “Your latest video is so hot baby, straight fire!” contact photo:

Victor & Katerina name: Katerina 🥰 ringtone: Mess is Mine - Vance Joy last text: “Leaving work now, coming home to you my love” contact photo:

Brielle & Ana name: Ana ☀️😊 ringtone: Borderline - Ariana Grande last text: will i see you tonight? 🥺 contact photo:

#pinkseokjiins #sorry everyone but i love this

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dead-fandom-imagines · 3 years ago

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Diosa | Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca Fanfiction

Wow guys, I literally posted my idea less than 24 hours ago and I’ve gotten so much love and support from it. It makes me cry happy tears :’)

As per usual, here is the new summary and the faceclaim for the new characters. I hope you love it!! I’ll be posting the first chapter as soon as I can!!

Diosa | Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca x OC Fanfiction

Tags: Canon violence and drug and alcohol mentions, blood, gore, cursing, explicit sex scenes, unreliable narrator, and characters who are psycho and know it

SUMMARY:

Alessandra and Mateo Vuente are the children of infamous cartel leader, Don Eladio, who now share partial responsibility of helping with their father’s drug affairs across the Mexico and United States Border.

The Salamanca’s know that whoever they marry will obtain the power, the riches, and the world of Eladio’s criminal ring and become one of the many dons after their father passes, but Hector fears more outsiders will try to wiggle themselves in and take that prize. But if Alessandra marries a Salamanca, he doesn’t have to worry, right?

CHARACTER INTRODUCTIONS/FACECLAIMS:

Ariadne Diaz as Alessandra Vuente

Aarón Díaz as Mateo Vuente

#lalo salamanca #eduardo lalo salamanca #Better Call Saul #fanfic #fanfiction #original characters

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youve-cath-to-be-kitten-me · 6 years ago

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Congrats on 150 you lovely human 🌈💙can I have a 📚? Also as for the fictional characters I’m similar to I look like Ariadne Bridgestock and act like Lilly Chen 😋

Thank you, love! I really appreciate it ❤️

📚 - Book Quote

“I walked into the street without an arm to hold me back” ~ They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

Sorry to choose such a morbid quote but this book is one of my favorites and this quote is so special! I love that it’s a callback to that scene towards the beginning where Mateo holds Rufus back from walking into the street, and it was the perfect way to end a book that you knew the ending of from the beginning.

#thank you lovely #cath celebrates 150 #woolsey—scott

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fearhims3lf · 9 months ago

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TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @amonstrousdream @fearhims3lf

SUMMARY: Late at night, Mateo runs into Leila and decides to cause a little trouble. Little does he know that what he's poking is a fresh wound.

WARNINGS: Car Accident (mention), Child Death (mention), Sibling Death (mention)

There was always something ethereal about visiting the astral. One moment at home, and the next, you're some amorphous being in the middle of sparkling night until you conjure the will necessary to become tangible. Mateo always enjoyed that travel, the moments of silence as he hunted for his food, only occasionally being interrupted by a fellow mare.

It was rare that Mateo ever bothered to exchange pleasantries, mostly offering an acknowledging grunt, but he spotted someone familiar and couldn't help himself. The woman–Leila, he recalled– who had threatened him all those months ago. A smile painted on his face and he slinked his way to her.

He wondered if he could instigate a petty squabble, hoping to make himself feel just a little better than he had the last few weeks. Maybe it was pathetic and unfair, but breakups sucked. Sue him. “Oh hey, ma.” Mateo greeted Leila with a mischievous smile. “Haven't seen you around here in a while.”

The astral had lost its wonder.

Once, Leila had thought there to be something strangely beautiful about the place between waking and dreaming. One could simply become a part of the universe- a mote of night and stardust that floated through the cosmos. It was quiet, and beautiful, and rare. Rare to be a part of something so vast, rare to be able to see the world as it truly was: a structure of thoughts and memories grafted upon physical constructs.

It was grief that ripped the wonderment away from the astral. Worry for the living that dimmed the stars, fear of more death that turned the beauty of that other world to ashes. Now it was a place with a purpose: Leila would find the nightmares that happened without the interference of a mare to try to dispel them, and to create nightmares when she absolutely needed- solely for survival, solely on those who caused pain in the waking world. There wasn’t much time for the latter, though. Not between her endless worrying for Metzli, Ariadne, Eleanor, and every other person in the godforsaken town who had wound their way into her heart like ivy.

She had been scanning the seemingly endless horizon of dark, muted purples and blues, looking for the shimmer of a dream already laced with fear, when she heard an unfortunately familiar voice. Hey, ma. The simple greeting was enough to set her teeth on edge. Of all the mares left in Wicked’s Rest, why did it have to be Mateo to find her in the astral? At best, it was a needlessly irritating interaction. At worst, it reminded the mare of what she lost. Of who she lost.

Leila didn’t even deign to look in his direction as she spoke. “What do you want, Mateo?”

A knowing smirk weaved its way onto his face, the tinge of irritation in Leila's voice already filling him with a sense of victory. He was only two sentences in, and she was already done with him. It was becoming a common theme in Mateo's life, but at least it came with humor that time around.

“Bet you react that way to all the cool guys.” He chuckled, sauntering a bit closer. “Didn't really feel like being a blob tonight. How is it my fault that you had the same idea?” Mateo arched a brow, deciding to poke the bear a little further. What was she gonna do anyway? He could dodge away and disappear in an instant before she even fully reacted. The opportunity was staring him in the face, and Mateo was nothing if not impulsive.

“Maybe I should go bug that rock girl again. As a treat.” Not that he'd actually act on it, but Leila didn't have to know that. She just needed to react for his satisfaction.

It was so strange to feel so hollowed out by a few words.

Once, the mention of Cass from the other mare’s mouth would have turned her into the monster she was supposed to be, furious in a way she could never get a hold of. Leila would have stood vigil for a lifetime to keep Mateo from lurking in the girl’s dreams. But Cass was gone now. Her little body was buried beneath the dirt in a greedy cave, cased in a tomb of igneous rock and cave formations, too close to the man who had taught her love was something you had to suffer for, that you only but never, ever deserved in return.

His words were an unintentional blow to the gut. The air felt as if it was sucked right out of her lungs. The dark, star-dulled space of the astral felt like it was pressing in on her. As if she, too, should be buried alive. Payment for her failure.

Leila opened her mouth to say something, anything, but none came out. Rather, a low, mournful whimper rose in her chest.

There was supposed to be anger, explosive and dangerous, and all around too powerful to stand against. Mateo was fully prepared for that outcome, readying his stance to leap back home, but nothing came. Nothing but a pitiful, yet earth-shattering sound. It caught in Leila’s throat like barbs, entangling itself inside with a violent sorrow.

“Shit.” Mateo hissed, taking a step back. He knew that look too well. “I…” The words wouldn’t come out. He knew he had fucked up. Royally. But it was his mess, and he wasn’t going to just leave it there now. Mateo was many things, but he wasn’t a monster. Not like that anyway. Not when his softer nature tended to make itself known at a time like that.

“I’m sorry. Is she…” Dead? He wanted to ask, but thought better of it. “I’m sorry.” He said again, head falling shamefully. “That wasn’t fair.”

The astral was a strange place to feel like you were falling apart.

The grief came like a riptide, pulling Leila down into the undertow until down was up and up was down, until there was nothing but the hollow, aching, horrible feeling of guilt without end. Of loss without relief. It wasn’t Mateo’s fault- after all, how could he have known what had become of Cass? But the resulting sorrow did not change. If she were not in that place between the waking and dreaming world, the mare might have curled in on herself, might have sunk to the ground while her heart broke and broke and broke again. But there, in the astral, she simply wished to close her eyes and disappear. If she were some bit of nothing lost in the endless astral, then she couldn’t fail those she loved. If she were nothing, then maybe everything wouldn’t hurt so much.

The words seemed to come from another, far away world. I’m sorry. A strangled sob wracked her body as the mare tried to keep it all in and tucked away. But Mateo wasn’t someone she needed to stay strong for. So Leila crumbled. “She’s gone…” The words were hardly audible, as if saying them hurt just as much. Not as if. It did hurt just as much. Maybe more. The truth always hurt more…

“She’s dead.”

He could see Nancy and Veronica so clearly in place of Leila. Mothers without children to care for after a horrible tragedy, faces marred with the consequences of another’s actions. It was likely to plant deeply. Rooting itself so far down until its soil festered with the poison of grief, never to host another harvest. Mateo had seen that look before, more than once, and he still faltered in that moment. He still struggled to do more than just stand there dumbly and repeat himself over and over again.

“I’m sorry.”

It was like he was 20 again, attending a funeral for cousins that would always be that age and that he would never see again. Only Mateo didn’t know Cass the same way he knew his relatives. He was just a man that didn’t know how to offer anything more than a few words that wouldn’t bring Leila’s loved one back. She was gone, and she’d stay that way. Mateo wondered how much guilt the other mare had. Not only was she alive, but she would far outlive any life Cass would have had. He couldn’t imagine the pain she must feel as a mother. Parents weren’t supposed to bury their young.

“How long ago was this?”

“August- um… August seventeenth?” She knew the date. It wasn’t a question- it was a fact carved in stone, an end date for a life that should have gone on far after it. But Leila hadn’t really let herself get washed away in the tide of that pain before. For over a month she had forced herself to stay as sturdy as stone. For the sake of Metzli and Ariadne and all others in her life who had loved the girl who was now lost to them, she had remained (as best she could) a shelter. But wind and rain made even the strongest mountains erode away. She had known the cracks were there, but she had not known to the extent they had grown…

She disgusted herself, if she was being truly honest.

The fact of the matter was that Leila could have done more. Tried more. She could have gone every day to the entrance of the cave and called for Cass. She could have done more than bring comics and food- like those would have done any good in battling the monster of a man who had wormed his way into that girl’s brain. She could have tried harder. It was true! But she had mildly, sheepishly, stupidly done as Cass had requested: she had given her space. She had left her alone. But in doing that, she left the girl alone with the monster that ultimately killed her. She should have done more.

The man's shoulders slumped down with the weight of Leila's voice. Her wounds were still so fresh, and Mateo came barging in with a grief of his own that was miniscule in comparison. Time would pass and he'd be able to let go, but for Leila, she may very well become a prisoner of her loss, unable to move. Mateo felt horrible for what he'd done, and there wasn't much else to do but sit with her in between her tears. It wasn't like he had any experience with being a parent. Much less one who'd lost their child.

“Um,” Awkwardly, Mateo stepped a little closer and laid a careful hand on Leila's shoulder. His thumb brushed over it in what he thought to be a soothing pattern, though he guessed he'd find out if it was if Leila didn't react poorly. “I don't know much–well anything at all about this stuff, but…” He shrugged and inhaled deeply, “My cousins lost their boys in a wreck. My cousin–he was a brother to one of them–he, uh, he was driving and they had smoked pot like they usually did together. He lost control of the car.” The memory stung the corner of Mateo's eyes and he sniffled, recalling the moment his cousin Diana called him to tell him the news. It was his birthday, and he had been expecting her to call him to sing as she usually did.

Obviously, that wasn't the case.

“He killed his brother and his cousin that night, and nobody blamed him. Maybe at first, when the news struck, but like, it was raining, you know? They hydroplaned and he got seriously hurt too. I don't know…I-I…” Mateo sighed, squeezing Leila's shoulder before retreating his hand. “I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you feel guilty at all, I hope it goes away. ‘Cause I mean, you didn't kill her. You didn't cause it. And if no one can blame my cousin, then I don't think anyone can blame you.”

Some people said that memories were a gift. Others, that the time spent with a person was a treasure once that person had gone. Still others that the one that had been lost would not want those they loved to mourn them. These sentiments were concocted for the living, by the living, when the discomfort grief caused was too much for some to bear. Grief had become a constant, painful companion for Leila, but it was one that she quietly shouldered. It dug its claws and teeth into her, marring every thought of Cass that fluttered through her mind with the reminder that she was dead and gone and buried and would not come home, and that those who loved her were now doomed to an eternity without. But what good would her pain do for those who had, seemingly, suffered more? Metzli and Ariadne, who had been there at the cave and watched it crumble in on the girl, who had lost a daughter and a sister respectively. Van, who she did not know as well, but the mare knew cared deeply for Cass, too. She was responsible for holding herself together and caring for those who survived. She had not been there. It was atonement for her own failure.

It was strange, then, to have a man she hardly knew and (for a time) had greatly disliked because he had fed upon the mind of a girl she considered her own… rest a gentle hand on her shoulder and offer soft words that did not wish to dissipate her pain, but rather to make the pain feel less isolating. He didn’t tell her not to feel guilty. He didn’t tell her not to feel sad. Simply that he hoped the pain eased.

A breath rattled by tears shook her frame as she looked up at Mateo. “I could have done more,” She should have done more. “She told me to leave her alone, I should have-” The words caught in her throat, a broken silence filling in infinite blanks of the end of that sentence. “How… how are things like us supposed to move on forever when it means losing the people you love?”’

Mateo rolled his shoulders and considered what Leila said for a few beats. Doing more and doing enough weren't exactly the same, but loss had a way of muddling a person's mind too much to think clearly. As a person from the outside, looking in, it was easier for Mateo to come up with an unbiased take. He didn't care enough about Leila to lie.

"You did what any good parent would do. You listened. You heard what they said and actually listened.” Which was more than what Mateo could say about his own parents. They still wouldn't shut up about his mistakes and how he abandoned the family to pursue selfishness. Not once had they considered that it would make Mateo happy, and they never asked how he felt. In his book, Leila did the right thing, and her only mistake was loving too hard. And that couldn't really be a mistake, could it?

“Death is inevitable, even for us. We just have more chances than others.” Living that long was a terrifying concept when Junior first told Mateo, but the chance to be more intrigued him too much to really think about it. Wyatt and Xóchitl would never live as long as him, but he made his decision and had to live with it. There were things that made it easier, though. Especially when Mateo felt an existential crisis on the horizon. “You go on loving them as hard and long as you can. So when it's their time, they never have to question if they were loved. Seems to me that Cass probably didn't.”

You go on loving them.

It seemed so simple an answer. Too simple, perhaps. The tears kept coming with no abandon, finally finding release after keeping them locked inside for someone else’s perceived benefit. You go on loving them. Why wouldn’t she love them? Why would the pain make her stop loving? Leila whimpered, swallowing hard as she tried to collect herself. Loss was inevitable, she realized. The life of a creature who could outrun death was punctuated by the loss of the ones who could not run forever, who would be taken by the hand by death and led somewhere her soul might never see.

She wasn’t thinking when she reached out for the other mare’s hand. Wasn’t thinking as she squeezed it tight in her own, as if he had become the only life raft she could hold on to. To go on loving was all Leila knew how to do. It was a fatal flaw- she loved and loved and loved, and somehow it never felt like she had done enough. It felt as if she had failed a little, somehow, every day. But to stop loving was to accept failure… Cass had called her her mother in that last letter. Did she know? The mare wondered. Did she know how loved she was, how loved she still was?

The mare was silent for a time, the only sounds escaping her shaky breaths and quiet sobs. Eventually, her shoulders stilled in their heaving, her breathing steadied slightly. Leila lifted her gaze to Mateo. There was still pain there. So much pain. But gratitude as well. A little relief.

“Thank you…”

Leila's touch came as a surprise, the sensation desperate and full of mourning. It left an icy weight in Mateo, growing heavier with the intensity of her squeeze. As awkward and uncomfortable as he felt though, Mateo didn't let go. He stood there, listening to the way Cass's death echoed in Leila's lungs, and didn't dare move until she was ready. Stable enough to keep from falling apart completely.

When the storm finally settled, and the havoc met the man's gaze, a little bit of rain of Mateo's own had misted over his expression. He couldn't help it. He never could. His brothers always said he was wuss for always tearing up when his mother did, but he never cared. And he still didn't. Because Mateo never wanted to be a person that believed sympathy to be a weakness. It took a lot of strength to allow someone else's pain to seep into you, even if it was a fraction of the original size.

“No problem, ma. No problem.” His voice was a soft whisper, only a slight tremble lying beneath it. “Why don't we go get a shake or a drink or something? On me. The least I can do.” Squeezing Leila's hand gently, Mateo offered a warm smile and softly tugged her toward him in an attempt to nudge her into a decision. “I'm not taking no for an answer.”

She hadn’t expected Mateo to care. Frankly, Leila would have thought that after their initial encounter, the other mare would have left her to her tears. It’s probably what she would have deserved, too, for punching him like she had. Not that she would have changed what she did. She would do- would have done- anything for Cass. Which was perhaps what made the pain of her absence all the more potent… Leila had done what Cass wanted her to do, and it didn’t matter in the end because her daughter was still gone. But Mateo stayed. He stayed. He didn’t pull away from her grasp while she fell apart at the seams in a way she hadn’t in months.

It was a kindness she did not believe she could have ever deserved.

His voice was soft as he coaxed her away from the place she sat, fixed in her grief. The storm had passed for the moment. A shaky hand smeared away luminescent tears that stubbornly rolled down her cheeks, and a weak, half-hearted laugh barked out of her as Mateo tugged at her arm like an eager child. “Alright… alright. A shake or a drink…”

Yes, that ancient voice in her mind sighed as she followed her fellow mare along through that dim-starred world. It was certainly a kindness she did not deserve.

#wickedswriting #writings #nightmarescapes #long long time #c: leila #leila and mateo #car accident tw #child death tw #sibling death tw

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