#somone else's character

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

What’s That Saying About Cinnamon Rolls. . ?

(Disclaimer: only two of the characters in this story belong to me. I’ve recently made a sister for my dear cannibal boi, and this is my first story involving her, so go here for context. If you’ve read my stuff, then you’ve probably gotten to know the aforementioned cannibal boi by now, but just in case, go here to learn more about him. And if you’d like to learn more about the mob that these two work for, go here. )

(Much appreciation to @sammys-magical-au for not only allowing me to have their very own Louise Editor—go  here and here for more information about her—make a cameo, but also for helping me come up with a name for the mob that I plan to grow and write much, much more about in the future!)

(Also, just to clarify: I don’t really have a timeline set up, but this story takes place before my other stories involving Caliban.)

(Trigger Warnings: murder/death, poisoning/descriptions of toxic chemicals, blood, descriptions of illegal business, implied animal abuse, descriptions of eating, slight mentions of cravings/hunger pangs, implied cannibalism, mentions of past abuse, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

The chatter of patrons and the miscellaneous clinks of silverware greeted Azalea like old friends as she pushed the kitchen’s aluminum door open. She maneuvered around tables, nodding to the waitstaff as she passed by. The customers paid her no mind; after all, she was just another employee going about the daily grind, wasn’t she?

Aftertaste was by no means a cramped establishment. Despite this, it wasn’t at all uncommon for the restaurant to get very crowded, considering how good the food was. Fortunately, the building had come equipped with two staircases.

Azalea soon found herself ascending the first, which was located in the main dining room. (The second one was in the kitchen, leading down to one of many old subway office-platforms, hidden behind a false wall that only she and a select few other staff members knew about.)

The second floor boasted a smaller-scale room (which, admittedly, hadn’t been used at all before the building fell into The Boss’ possession). Shortly after she’d been put in charge of this restaurant, Azalea had tidied up the second floor and included it in advertisements; since it was sequestered from Aftertaste’s typical hustle and bustle, it could be reserved for private parties and the like.

On certain occasions, it could also be used for more. . .important matters.

At the top of the stairs, a door was waiting patiently for her. Azalea gave a foreshadowing knock, then slipped across the threshold and closed the door as quickly as she’d opened it.

A lone figure sat at a table in the corner; a bit of a local superstar, to be more precise, with a head of perfectly-gelled black hair and eyeliner sharp enough to rival some of the knives in the kitchen. Azalea had seen this person’s photograph on posters around the city, advertising drag races at the clubs downtown and queen storytimes at the bookstores uptown. She gazed at Azalea with wide, dark eyes, clearly startled by her sudden entrance.

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Azalea offered a small wave as she approached the table. “Have you been enjoying your order?”

The drag queen shook off her surprise with impressive speed.

“Yes, thank you,” she murmured, revealing a thick Portuguese accent. The wine she’d requested earlier swirled as she gently shifted the glass in her hand. Less than half of a serving of tiramisu remained on the plate in front of her. “I think I’ll need your catering for one of my events sometime.”

“You’re too kind,” Azalea replied. Slyness crept into her calm smile as she took a seat on the opposite end of the queen’s table. “But I was told you have some different business to discuss. So, for now, let’s focus on that.”

Azalea couldn’t be sure what this queen had heard or where she’d heard it. However, that didn’t matter quite yet. What mattered was that, according to one of her in-the-know employees, she’d carefully used some distinct wording when she’d made the call to reserve the entire second floor, when she’d asked to speak with Azalea in private.

She obviously wasn’t just another customer.

She was a potential client.

The queen stared at Azalea for a long, tense moment. The anxiety in her eyes was clear as crystal, but that didn’t take away from just how determined her expression was. She sighed and nodded, fishing through the purse that was hanging on her chair to produce a small folder. She then reached across the table, offering it to Azalea.

“I’ve tried less extreme options, but nothing has worked. Nobody is willing to take this issue seriously,” she declared as her host opened the folder, uncovering several photographs that came in varying degrees of quality. “Name your price, and I’ll pay it. . .”

___

Azalea parked her car near the entrance of the cul-de-sac, right around the street corner. Not too far from her destination, but not too close, either. True, there were only a couple other houses near the one she needed to enter (this was one of those oddly spacious neighborhoods), but she wasn’t about to test just how nosey her target’s neighbors were. She moved quickly and quietly as she approached one of the larger houses, holding a small black box close to her chest.

There was no such thing as a perfect place. Every city, no matter the population or location, had its issues. The severity of those issues depended on who you asked. When it came to the Cove Port Inlets, basic criminal activity wasn’t too prevalent. But then, that was just on the surface level (figuratively and literally).

Despite its underground reputation, The Pentas Family was well-camouflaged among the more legal aspects of the Inlets. Rumors did trickle through, of course, but they were easy to manage. In fact, sometimes rumors were even welcomed: not only could they alert the mob’s representatives to potential threats, but they could occasionally pave the way for those representatives to take on a job.

As she grew closer, Azalea noticed how blinds had been twisted shut on the other side of the front windows. There was no light peeking through the aforementioned blinds. To the average person, this would’ve been a sign that the house was empty. Azalea, however, was undeterred. She knew someone was home, and she knew that they were expecting a visitor.

She climbed up a small set of concrete stairs, coming to a halt at the front door. She knocked three times, then took a step back and waited, drumming her nails on top of her cargo. A couple moments dragged by before the door creaked open, revealing her latest target on the other side.

“Good timing. I was starting to think your boss was just giving me the runaround,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. 

Azalea had known who this man was before her current client had hired her. Hell, she (and her associates) probably knew more about him than most of the people he was actually familiar with. But she didn’t bother thinking of his name.

Like the majority of people, he was much taller than Azalea (who, even with heels on, was quite petite). And like so many before him, he immediately made a show of looking down at her. 

In the back of her mind, Azalea added this to the pile of mistakes the target had already made.

“We don’t do things halfway around here,” Azalea answered. Though she smiled politely, the look in her eyes made it clear that she was neither intimidated nor amused. “And I know we weren’t giving off the wrong vibes when you first came to see us.”

Calling hit-jobs complex would be an understatement. Although word spread fast along the illicit grapevine, clients could still have some level of control over what information contract killers had on their targets. Disturbingly high salaries (and disregard for morals) aside, one could not simply kill another person without knowing anything about them. If someone was willing to pay for a death, there always had to be a reason or two for it. . .

The target hummed at this, ever-so-slightly furrowing his brow. “Well, your boss didn’t give off the vibe of someone who’d have some half-pint running her deals for her.”

. . .Not that that was a problem right now. There were more than enough reasons for Azalea to complete tonight’s job.

“First of all, I was in the same room as you during your meeting with The Boss; unless it’s for something very personal, she always includes us in decision-making. I can get why you might not have noticed me, but it’s still not my fault if you aren’t as observative as you think you are,” Azalea retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Second of all, we rotate between these kinds of assignments, because that’s how things actually get accomplished. And third of all: who the hell are you calling a half-pint? I’ve been in the business probably five times longer than you have.”

“Well, if part of your ‘assignment’ is to convince me of something, then you aren’t doing a very bang-up job,” the target sneered.

Azalea barked a laugh. “You think I’m the one who needs to be convincing here? You seemed pretty damn desperate during your first elevator pitch with us.”

The target responded to this by leaning forward and glowering in a very unpleasant way. He was dangerously close to getting in Azalea’s face, but she defied yet another one of his expectations by not flinching at all.

“Look,” Azalea said pointedly, signaling just how thin her patience was wearing. “The Boss sent me because she’s thinking of giving this another chance. But if you’d rather just throw that chance away. . .”

The uncomfortable starting contest continued for a few more seconds. Azalea immediately noticed a spark of panic mixing into the target’s anger. He knew he was about to screw himself out of something he wanted a second time. He knew she was right, that she had the upper-hand here, and he was furious about it.

(And knowing that really helped to calm Azalea’s frustration.)

Eventually, the target moved to the side, closing the door behind Azalea as she strolled in. He then quietly led her through the house, and while she followed along, she subtly scanned this new environment. A few lights were on in the nearby rooms, so her eyes adjusted quickly.

This place offered several indicators that the target was rather well-off; plenty of furniture, various expensive-looking knicknacks strewn about, and the size of the house in general. However, none of that changed the fact that this place was also kind of a pigsty. 

Stains dotted the carpet here and there (some were at least semi-cleaned, while others had simply been hidden in a way that just made them more obvious). There were also strange indents along the edges of the walls (a few of which were clearly scratch marks that obviously hadn’t been produced by a human).

Soon, the two of them came upon what Azalea assumed was the dining room table. The target took a seat at the end, motioning for Azalea to follow suit. Once she settled down on one of the chairs, she placed the black box on the tabletop and pushed it closer to the target. Getting the message, the target reached out and lifted the lid to reveal a small assembly of cinnamon rolls.

His features were etched with a look of surprise. He glanced at Azalea curiously. “. . .What’s this supposed to be?”

“A peace-offering,” Azalea announced, lying straight through her teeth. “We might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, but that shouldn’t have to affect business.”

The target’s eyes grew wider, tension quickly draining away to be replaced with more ignorant assumptions. “That’s awfully kind of you.” With that, he fished one of the cinnamon rolls out of the box and took a bite.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Azalea had to stifle a laugh as she watched the target make two more mistakes. She leaned back in the chair, a timer starting in her head, careful to keep her expression neutral.

“So,” the target pronounced, his voice semi-muffled by the treat. “You guys are finally opening negotiations?”

“We might be.” Azalea shrugged. “Might. There’s been a lot of stuff on our plate lately, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I get that,” the target chuckled. “Sometimes you’ve just gotta be picky, right?”

“Right.” Azalea nodded, smirking at the irony.

The Pentas Family wasn’t the only mob the Inlets had to offer (though it often seemed to be the only mob whose members actually knew what they were doing). There were a couple embarrassing street gangs here and there, but they never lasted very long. A few lone thugs wandered into the area, but they tended to have a bad habit of vanishing without a trace.

It was rare for another actual crime family to try and compete.

Rare, but not impossible.

“This is delicious, by the way,” the target admitted, having gone through more than half of the cinnamon roll in his hand. “Did you make these?”

“Yeah, I did. They were fresh out of the oven before I made my way over here, ” Azalea beamed. “When The Boss organized her turf, she ended up assigning me to Aftertaste. So, I had to act accordingly.”

(For the record, she knew the target was only being more polite because of the deal he thought was at stake. But she also knew that she was one of the best chefs in town, and there was no shame in taking praise for that.)

“Well, I hope you know that baked goods won’t be the most sufficient payment.” Surprise soon left the target’s expression. After he swallowed the last bite of the cinnamon roll, his smile became condescending once again. “If your family actually gets around to starting this partnership, that is.”

“You and your guys weren’t exactly invited to this area,” Azalea deadpanned. “You can’t blame us for not accepting your offers right off the bat.”

The target rolled his eyes. “Rumor has it that your crew has already entered an alliance with someone else. So we figured asking you to work with us would be doing you a favor on top of that.”

Azalea folded her arms across her chest. “Whether or not we’ve already got allies isn’t the point. The point is that our business doesn’t correlate with yours, and if that’s not enough of a hint, then nothing is. The only reason The Boss is considering changing her mind is because she’s a lot more mature than most people with power.”

“Since when does correlation matter?” The target pressed. “There’s strength in numbers, and our respective trades are both lucrative as all hell. Shouldn’t that be what matters here?”

Azalea raised her eyebrows at him. The target was acting just as entitled as he had been during that last-minute meeting a few weeks ago. Azalea had been sure that The Boss would’ve just assigned her or Murdock or one of The Pentas Family’s other representatives to bump him off. The fact that Azalea’s client had come complaining about the target’s business practices so soon afterwards was just a lucky coincidence.

“You’ve said so before,” Azalea eventually sighed. “That your little hustle is worth all the risks it comes with. You’ve said it, but you haven’t really done much to prove it.”

She reminded herself that the timer was still ticking. She’d only have to deal with this guy for five more minutes or so. She just had to keep an eye out for the signs.

“You think I’d be so insistent on negotiating if I didn’t have the goods to show for it?” The target scoffed, clearly frustrated at how Azalea had called him out so blatantly. He was probably trying to convince himself that, somehow, she still didn’t actually know what she was talking about. “I’m not like the dumbass wannabes you’re used to. I’ve got more than enough proof of what my deal could do for your posse.”

Azalea leaned forward, tilting her head to the side in a challenging manner. “Then let’s see that proof.”

The target pursed his lips before nodding. He rose from his seat, breaking eye-contact so quickly that it was obviously on purpose. Azalea got up, once again trailing him as he retreated further into the house. 

He led her down one hallway to a door that boasted a comical number of locks. After the target disengaged said locks, he pulled the door open to unveil a staircase, which he and Azalea quietly descended (Azalea made sure to stay behind him).

It took no time at all for the stench to punch Azalea in the face. She didn’t stop moving forward. At least, not until she and the target reached the foot of the stairs.

There was no carpeting to cover the concrete floor, and many of the walls were bare and without insulation. Despite being so unfinished, the target’s basement was roomy. Almost as roomy as The Pentas Family’s dens in the abandoned subway tunnels. And the target had definitely taken advantage of that space.

Several cages were scattered about, coming in a variety of sizes, materials. . .and contents. Many of the creatures being contained obviously hadn’t been born in the States. The noise they made wasn’t so cacophonous as it was depressing.They shuffled behind bars, cowering back, attempting to cover their eyes. They were all obviously cramped and in pain.

“Well?” The target asked smugly. “How’s all this for proof?”

“It’s. . .more than I expected,” Azalea answered honestly. She took a few subtle deep breaths, feeling her fingernails dig into her palms.

Among the many types of illegal business, exotic animal trafficking had never been very respected. Oh sure, you could make a fortune off of selling something that should either be out in the wild or in a zoo, but it was never as simple as that. It caused too many problems for the payoff to really be worth it. Especially since the clientele for that particular trade was frequently composed of rich assholes who wouldn’t know responsibility if it jumped up and went for their jugulars.

Azalea glanced at the target. Her anger cooled down a bit as she noticed beads of sweat collecting on his brow at a suspiciously fast rate.

“How exactly is this going to work?” Azalea inquired, gesturing towards the cages. She didn’t need (or want) to know, but now that the target was officially where she wanted him, she had to keep him distracted.

“That depends on my clients, really.” The target shrugged. The movement seemed casual, but Azalea could instantly tell that he was a bit shakier than he had been before. “Most of ‘em typically want a pelt, though I have gotten orders for complete taxidermy before. And that’s not even mentioning the crackpots who think blood or feathers or bone marrow or what-the-fuck-ever can cure diseases.”

“Oh, really? I always thought some people just wanted a special pet to brag about.”

“No, I do occasionally sell live specimens,” the target explained. He paused to clear his throat before continuing. “But it’s uncommon for most animals to actually make it this far. I guess some of the ones in this batch are just tougher than what I’m used to.”

His lip curled into a cruel smile, though it was wavering. His eyes glistened, suddenly looking very puffy and red around the edges. Confusion briefly crossed his features, along with anxiety that he attempted to hide.

Azalea blinked innocently, acting as though she hadn’t been carefully watching the target up until now. “Is everything alright? It looks like something’s bothering you.”

“Ah, no. I-I’m fine,” the target stammered, raising a hand to knead at his forehead. “Business just. . .takes a lot out of you, right?”

Azalea hummed, nodding in a way that was understanding but not at all sympathetic. “Well, I appreciate you taking the time for this little visit. But I still don’t think we’ll be able to open negotiations.”

The target did a neck-snapping double-take. “W-what?”

“You heard me. I’m not convinced that my family should start working with you. And if The Boss were here, I doubt she’d be convinced, either.”

“Why?” The target’s voice was louder than he’d probably wanted it to be. Azalea wasn’t sure if that’d been caused by his arrogant temper or the side-effects. “I’ve already told your boss about the prices that can be expected! You literally just asked to see what I had in store! How the fuck can you not see the benefits here?”

“Like I said before: our businesses aren’t compatible,” Azalea replied tersely. “We made that very clear the first time you tried making a deal. But apparently you thought screwing around in The Boss’ territory would somehow sway her opinion.”

The target sputtered at this, grinding his teeth as his face contorted into a furious scowl. He made to say something else—well, he was probably just going to start spewing insults—but Azalea cut him off via shaking her head.

“See, that’s another reason why my family doesn’t want anything from your group. You just can’t be professional.” Azalea paused, glancing at the cages again. “Besides, you guys only specialize in your trade, and the performance is sloppy at best. My family is all about variety; no two of us carry out business the same way.”

The target blinked, then barked a mirthless, disbelieving laugh. “Your boss just took ‘expect the unexpected’ and ran with it? Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Azalea grinned. The target must’ve gotten so worked up that he didn’t even realize how hoarse his voice had gotten, how close he was to slurring his words. “I really don’t understand why so many people don’t have faith in that kind of work. I mean, you didn’t hesitate to eat from that little box I brought. . .”

The target froze in place. His eyes bulged from their sockets, his mouth gaped open like a suffocating fish. 

Then, as if on cue, he doubled over, clearly not having expected whatever pain he was now feeling. His breathing became ragged, his body as a whole shuddered in an odd way. He let out a strangled gasp; when he tried to straighten his posture, he went sprawling to the floor, his hands not instinctively flying out to break his fall like they should have.

The convulsions grew steadily stronger. The target’s efforts to regain his balance were obvious, but it seemed like some invisible force was pinning him down.

“No one would ever expect batrachotoxin to have a sweet flavor,” Azalea pronounced. “I mean, I certainly didn’t at first, but research proves otherwise.”

She took a few steps closer, now looming over the man who’d towered over her just a moment ago. The target was coughing and choking now, blood-tinged mucus leaking out of his mouth. The veins in his neck were now distended in an awful way, more or less threatening to literally pop out of his skin.

“What was that you said earlier?” She asked. “Something about being a dumbass wannabe?”

Her tone wasn’t low or dangerous. Rather, it remained as chipper and casual as it had been for most of this interaction. And that automatically made her more terrifying than she’d been given credit for.

As he was no longer capable of speaking coherently, the target could do nothing but gawk in total horror. For good measure, Azalea didn’t stop staring down at him until his watery eyes eventually rolled back into his head. He still had yet to go completely limp—some of his joints kept twitching—but there was no saving him now.

Azalea lightly shook her head, fished her cellphone out of her pocket. She tapped at the screen, making sure for probably the thousandth time now that her conversations, whether by text or call, were shielded. The Boss had pulled a helluva lot of strings to ensure that those working for her wouldn’t have to worry about being recorded, but it never hurt to double-check.

Once she was satisfied, Azalea dialed a certain number, then held the device to her ear.

The phone had barely started ringing when someone on the other end picked up, though there was silence for a good five seconds or so.

“. . .Is it done?” Inquired a familiar voice.

“Sure is,” Azalea stated, figuring her client had just been bracing herself. She couldn’t really blame said client for needing to do so, considering what she was calling about.

“Good.” The client sighed. Surprisingly enough, her apparent nervousness didn’t seem to overshadow the relief in her tone. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly.”

Azalea chuckled. “We try our best to be efficient.”

“Are there any animals in the house?”

“Yes, quite a few. I had to bide my time to make sure the poison properly took effect. So, I goaded him into showing me where he’s been keeping them,” Azalea explained. “Why do you ask?”

“You said that some of your colleagues would come by once the job was done. Would they be adverse to. . .picking up those animals?”

“Well, that depends: what exactly do you expect the cleanup crew to do with them?” Azalea asked, both curious and suspicious.

“I was hoping they could be taken to Wild Things Rescue. I have connections to that place.” The client explained, meaning the endangered species sanctuary on the northside of town. Then, probably having remembered how she’d been sworn to secrecy, she hurriedly added, “A-and I can make sure that the employees won’t find out about my deal with you! All I’m asking is for the animals to be dropped off at the shelter; I’ll take care of the rest from there. I’m willing to pay more if I need to.”

“Whoa, slow down,” Azalea announced. “I don’t think an extra charge will be necessary.”

“You won’t have—wait, what?” The client had obviously been caught off guard. “Are—are you serious. . ?”

“I am.” Azalea paced around the dead man on the floor. “This guy already had a price on his head; your patronage just sweetened that deal. Besides, you didn’t skimp on the original fee. So, I might as well help you out one more time.” She looked over the caged creatures and felt her face drop. There were a couple panda cubs, a few wolf pups, a pangolin, and even a tiny white tiger. And that was just what the cages immediately in front of her had to offer. “Just because your heart’s in the right place.”

“Oh.” The client stayed quiet for a long moment.

Though Azalea didn’t have a problem with the client’s confused relief, she was still on the clock. Plus, awkward silences weren’t really her thing. “Cleanup’s already on their way, but I’ll bring ‘em up to speed once they’re here. They know this city inside-out, so they won’t have trouble getting to the sanctuary. Can you meet them there?”

The client cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, I absolutely can.”

“Perfect. It’ll take them some time to erase everything here. You should be able to expect them within an hour or so.”

“I’ll be ready,” the client promised. And, despite being able to tell so much just from her voice, Azalea still couldn’t imagine the look in the client’s eyes when she said, “. . .Thank you. For everything.”

With that, a loud click sounded on the other end before the call went completely silent.

After Azalea returned her phone to her pocket, her eyes landed on a cage at the end of the row. Unlike all the others, it was empty, and its wire door hung open. Azalea took a closer look and quickly realized that the latch on the cage’s door was somewhat bent, as well as covered in scratches and grooves.

Something must have gnawed on that latch until it finally gave way. . .

Out of nowhere, the silence was broken by a series of shuffling noises. Automatically tense, Azalea gazed around the basement. She carefully reached into one of the pockets in her vest, wrapping her hand around a small syringe.

(An emergency dose of bullet ant venom. It was one of the very few things in her collection that wasn’t actually lethal, but having it in your system was agonizing enough to make you wish it was.)

She soon discovered a large hole in the wall to her left: an empty, unfinished door frame. Azalea chewed her lip, then maneuvered herself around the cages. The shuffling grew louder and louder as she came to hover in the frame.

This sideroom wasn’t much better than the rest of the basement. A desk had been positioned there, supporting a laptop and cluttered stacks of paper and folders. Beside it stood a tripod, complete with a large camera that was aimed at a white sheet on the floor. (This must have been how the target advertised the animals he trafficked. Once you had some quality photos of your wares, all you had to do was post them somewhere online and start taking bids.)

Across the room from this setup, a refrigerator stood in the corner. Its door hung ever-so-slightly ajar, allowing a strip of bright, artificial light to peek out. The sounds of something scratching against plastic echoed from within.

Azalea paused, chewing her lip. Now sure that she wouldn’t have to deal with one of the target’s cronies, she released her hold on the syringe

She inched towards the fridge, moving slowly and quietly. She didn’t plan on opening it all the way—her instincts just demanded that she get a look at whatever was inside.

Once the device was within touching distance, Azalea leaned down, craning her neck to peer through the crack in the door. She soon came to the conclusion that maybe her instincts should’ve just screwed off this one time.

A pale blur erupted out of the fridge, accompanied by a loud, gravelly hiss. Azalea let out a small scream and staggered back, nearly losing her balance. While catching her breath, she watched the creature dart away from her, soon backing into the opposite corner, still hissing as it thumped one of its hind legs against the floor.

Now that it was standing still, Azalea could see this thing for what it was: a hare (admittedly, she’d thought it was a rabbit at first, but then she remembered the differences between them).

Its fur was white. Azalea immediately thought it had to be one of those arctic species, but as she continued examining it, she realized that wasn’t the case. The tips of the hare’s long ears lacked black spots. Azalea’s mind went to albinism, but that couldn’t be right either. The hare’s eyes weren’t pink—their hue looked like a combination of hazel and gold. Like deep, dark amber.

Azalea knew there was another mutation that made animals white when they probably weren’t meant to be, but she couldn’t start racking her brain for the exact term.

Because by now, she’d finally noticed how the fur around the hare’s mouth and forepaws was stained red.

She glanced back at the fridge. Now that the door was wide open, she had a perfect view of all the packages lining the shelves. They each contained varying cuts of raw meat; probably what the target had been using to feed those animals. One of them was laying on the floor—it must have fallen out when Azalea startled the hare. The plastic wrap had clearly been torn open by small teeth, leaving the ground beef inside partially uncovered.

“I didn’t know you guys could eat meat,” Azalea said as she put two and two together. She had no idea why she’d just decided to start talking to the hare. It wasn’t like it could answer her. “. . .Are you hungry?”

And what kind of question was that? Of course the hare was hungry. Why else would it have climbed into a refrigerator to eat some raw meat?

Azalea lightly shook her head, attempting to calm those nagging questions. She worked for a mob full of contract-killers. This was pretty normal compared to some of the stuff she’d done before.

She stooped down to pick up the package. She saw how the hare’s eyes followed the ground beef, wide and hopeful. But as she took a step forward, its ears flattened as it let out a strange, high-pitched growl.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Azalea called softly. She held out her free hand in a calm gesture. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” After that, she plucked a piece of meat from the package and lightly tossed it forward. It landed in front of the hare, who hesitated before wolfing it down.

The hare immediately went back to staring and hissing at Azalea, but that didn’t deter her. She kept sending little bits of ground beef the hare’s way, slowly moving towards it all the while.

Sooner or later, she slowly lowered herself into a sitting position beside the hare. She took yet another chunk of ground beef into the palm of her hand, and then rested that hand on the floor.

The hare warily looked back and forth between her and the offering. Eventually, it claimed the treat—its little teeth nicked the skin of Azalea’s palm, but she stayed still. The hare probably hadn’t meant to bite her; now that she was so much closer to it, Azalea could see just how badly it was shaking.

It wouldn’t have taken a genius to guess that a person who trafficked animals wouldn’t care enough about said animals to treat them properly, but watching the hare shiver and hesitate. . .

It wasn’t just malnourished. It was afraid.

It hadn’t just been underfed. It had been abused.

And just like that, Azalea finally realized why this seemingly random animal had struck such a chord with her. Oh sure, she’d always been an animal-lover, but the hare specifically reminded her of someone.

Someone who she’d grown up with.

Someone who, like her, had been the subject of cruelty for the majority of his childhood.

Someone whose developing appetite had made the neglect he’d experienced so much worse.

Someone she’d smuggled food to whenever she’d gotten the chance. . .

Azalea felt her eyes start to burn. She swallowed a lump in her throat, blinking back tears as she quietly set the package down in front of the hare. This time, the hare didn’t hold back. It attacked the ground beef with newfound vigor, its little teeth audibly snapping.

Despite the painful memories now circulating through her head, Azalea chortled at the sight. “You’re kind of like a little snare-trap, huh?”

Another couple minutes dragged by before Azalea raised a hand and cautiously pushed it toward the hare.

The hare froze mid-bite, jerking its head to stare up at her, its amber eyes still full of stress. Azalea kept her movement even as her fingertips brushed the hare’s soft, white fur.

The hare flinched, but it didn’t try to run off like she’d expected.

Azalea repeated that action, slowly but surely stroking the hare’s back. Sooner or later, the hare went back to eating. It didn’t resist the petting, didn’t hiss, didn’t try to bite Azalea.

Time just seemed to slow down as Azalea sat there, watching the hare, hoping that comforting it would make the horrible ache in her heart go away.

She was so busy calming herself down that she almost didn’t notice how the hare had suddenly abandoned its meal in favor of sidling up to her, leaning into her touch.

It reared back on its hind legs and braced its paws against her shoulder, then proceeded to push its muzzle against her neck. It wasn’t shaking anymore.

With her eyebrows now on a collision course for Mars, Azalea gently gathered the hare up in her arms, being as delicate as humanly possible. The hare didn’t resist this, and she felt a delighted smile materialize on her face.

She knew she couldn’t keep the hare. It wasn’t like The Boss prohibited her associates from having pets, but Azalea already owned Cuddles. She simply didn’t have enough time or space for another animal.

And in spite of that, Azalea had already made up her mind. It didn’t matter how accidental this encounter was. It didn’t matter how ridiculous it was for her to adopt an animal that just so happened to be in the place where she’d killed a person no more than ten minutes ago.

“I think I might have a friend for you,” Azalea told the hare, her smile growing wider.

The hare, of course, didn’t respond. But the way it tilted its head at Azalea’s words was encouraging enough.

___

Azalea may have loved decorating as much as the next gal, but after she’d cleaned all the old junk out of her secret underground den, she just hadn’t really felt the need to embellish it beyond the necessities.

To the right of the concrete passageway, a huge storage cabinet took up space against the wall. Similarly to one or two of the cupboards in Aftertaste’s kitchen, it was full to bursting with bottles and jars that came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors.

The only difference was that the stuff in these containers couldn’t be used in cooking unless Azalea planned to kill someone. (Which, to be fair, was a scenario she found herself in quite regularly.) A few boxes could be found at the bottom of the cabinet; they stored things like syringes and transportation vials.

Right next to the poison cabinet was a mahogany bookcase. Its shelves were inhabited by various chronicles about cooking, baking, hazardous chemicals and how they affected the human body, stuff like that.

She’d also brought a couple tables down here. One was in the corner, currently supporting Cuddles’ terrarium and heat-lamp. The other was in the center of the room (along with a couple chairs), a base for harvesting, or experimenting, or whatever Azalea found herself needing to do when it came to working with poisons.

Right now that table would’ve been completely vacant, if not for the hare, who was currently trying to pace around on it in order to get a better view of this new environment.

“Hey, c’mon. Can’t you hold still for a few more seconds?” Azalea asked, gently keeping the hare in place. 

She’d taken one of the hand towels from the restaurant’s kitchen and soaked it in warm water. She was now using it to carefully scrub at the hare’s fur, cleaning off the blood that had been caked around his mouth and paws. For the most part, the red stains had disappeared. There were just a few more specks left, but the hare apparently thought he’d stayed in one spot long enough.

Cuddles, who was loosely coiled around Azalea’s neck, ever-so-slightly leaned toward the hare, angling her head curiously. Her forked tongue flicked in and out of her mouth like a party favor. The hare returned Cuddles’ gaze, his twitching nose somehow adding to the strangely thoughtful look in his eyes.

Azalea knew it usually wasn’t the best idea to have a snake in the same room with a small mammal. However, that didn’t change the fact that scarlet kingsnakes only grew big enough to be a danger to things like mice and rats. And, since the hare was definitely much larger than either of those things, Cuddles couldn’t really do anything to harm him. Besides, she wasn’t nearly as aggressive as most people with ophidiophobia would probably suggest

“You must be pretty excited, huh?” Azalea asked the hare. “I don’t blame you—just wait until you see your actual new home.”

Make sure you have a Plan B, chided a voice in Azalea’s head. There’s still a chance that this won’t work out the way you’re hoping.

Azalea had to bite back a sigh at the thought. Logically speaking, she knew she couldn’t really expect Caliban to just randomly take a new pet home tonight. Especially since she hadn’t mentioned a potential new pet in the text she’d sent him ten minutes ago.

She knew he was on his way here, and that made her simultaneously eager and anxious.

Even so, she still had a good feeling about her plan. She knew her brother better than anyone on planet Earth; hell, he’d said that himself on more than one occasion.

Almost immediately after Azalea had finally restored the hare’s fur to its pure white hue, the door across the room lightly shook as knuckles rapped against it on the other side.

“Speak of the devil,” she murmured, rising from her chair.

Just to be sure, Azalea took a quick peek through the window at the platform outside. After that, she stood before the door, her hand on the knob. “Who is it?”

“It’s the pizza guy,” replied a voice that was as familiar as it was muffled, both lighthearted and sarcastic. “Who do you think it is?”

Azalea pulled the door less than halfway open, poking her head through the crack. There her brother was, amusedly smiling down at her. The dim, flickering light of the abandoned platform shone against his red leather jacket.

“What’re you doing out so late?” Azalea greeted, smiling right back. “You know there’s crazy people down here, right?”

Caliban’s eyes grew wide as he put a hand on his heart in an elaborate mock gasp. “You’ve seen them, too? Don’t you realize how much danger you’re in?!”

The siblings burst out laughing like only self-aware lunatics who’d made their way in a life where murder was casual business could.  

“Anyway, what was with that message?” Caliban asked. “You’re only vague like that when you’re up to something.”

“Exactly.” Azalea hummed. “Would you prefer me telling you or showing you?”

“I mean, both would probably work.” Caliban moved forward, obviously expecting his sister to step aside. When she didn’t, he gave pause. “. . .Can I come in?”

“You can,” Azalea replied, “but you’ve gotta close your eyes first.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” Azalea quickly glanced over her shoulder, making sure the hare was still on the table, then returned her focus to Caliban before he could try peeking inside.

Caliban blinked at this, raising an eyebrow. Azalea knew he trusted her, but she was just now remembering how his (and, admittedly, her) concept of surprises had become a bit warped over the recent years.

“Does this have anything to do with that job you were talking about yesterday?” Caliban inquired.

“. . .Kind of,” Azalea admitted before hurriedly clarifying, “Nothing went wrong! The target’s dead, I didn’t get hurt or caught, don’t worry!”

The anxiety that had started forming on her brother’s face was replaced by subtle relief. He gave her one more puzzled look before he nodded.

“Alright, then. Lead the way,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

Azalea snickered, taking one of Caliban’s hands in hers to carefully guide him into her den. Once they were both inside, she lightly kicked the door shut and brought Caliban over to the table. She gently pushed down on his shoulder, having him sit on her chair.

The hare wandered right up to them, peering back and forth between the siblings.

“Can I open my eyes now?” Caliban asked, his tone caught between amusement and concern.

“Almost, almost,” Azalea assured. “Just wait a little longer. . .” She couldn’t help but giggle as she watched the hare crane his neck to push his little face closer to Caliban’s, nose twitching adorably.

Caliban could obviously sense that something had entered his bubble, because he immediately began leaning back in the chair. “If whatever this is makes me fall and crack my head open, I swear to God—”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Azalea interjected. “Open ‘em up.”

Caliban’s eyes snapped open, and he very nearly jumped in his seat. The hare flinched back a bit, but he didn’t start hissing. That was a good sign.

Caliban’s shock was quickly replaced by confusion. He looked at his sister, then back at the hare. “Look, I don’t have a problem with bunnies, but I’m not sure if I want to know how or why this one got here.”

“Well, first of all, he’s a hare, you uncultured swine,” Azalea snorted. “And second of all, I didn’t just pick him up off the street. I found him at the target’s place.”

“. . .Are you saying he played a part in how that job went down?” Caliban asked, starting to chortle at how odd that sounded.

“No, not really. He might’ve wanted to, judging by how scared and hungry he was.”

That made her brother’s laughter come to an abrupt halt. The bewilderment was still very much present in his expression, but his eyes made it clear that a chord had been struck.

He cautiously raised a hand, glancing back at Azalea. 

“Is it okay if I. . ?”

“Yeah, go ahead!” Azalea beamed. “He really seems to like pets.”

Caliban nodded and held his palm towards the hare, who responded by taking a few seconds to check this new person’s scent. After that, he rubbed his little head against the offered hand, much like a cat.

Despite knowing the things her brother had done—and would likely continue doing for a long while—Azalea knew there was no denying how delightful it was to see his face light up. Slowly but surely, the hare shuffled closer to Caliban, clearly enjoying his attention.

“Not to be rude,” Caliban eventually pronounced, still petting the hare, “but you still haven’t really told me why you asked me to come over.”

“Right, right,” Azalea coughed. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. But for starters, when I saw this guy, I thought of you.” She reached over to scratch the hare’s ears. “He’s got some strange tastes—”

Caliban sputtered with humor, looking briefly shocked at being called out like that. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“—and he’s feisty when he needs to be. But he’s really nice once you get to know him.”

Her brother hummed at this. One part of his expression showed joking denial, but the other part was clearly touched by the sentiment.

“We both know how I can’t really feed you like the others,” Azalea continued, unable to stop herself from sounding a bit guilty.

Caliban caught onto that quickly, his eyes becoming slightly worried. “It’s not like I hold that against you. You know that, right? I mean, in all fairness, it’s better that you don’t give me any bodies. Because of the whole poison-is-your-trademark thing.”

Azalea softly laughed in agreement, but it didn’t do much to hide the fact that both she and Caliban were most definitely on the same train of thought right now. 

Before they’d joined The Pentas Family, before they’d even become adults, she’d been the one to care for him when he needed it the most. She’d been there for him every time he couldn’t sleep or got sick due to malnourishment, every time the end of a day saw him bruised and shaking. . .

Just as he’d been there for her whenever she’d experienced similar abuse.

On one hand, they’d both tried so hard to repress those memories, which they had every damn right to do. On the other hand, however, they both knew that they couldn’t afford to forget how they’d managed to survive.

“Aside from that,” Azalea mentioned, her voice growing softer, “I can imagine how lonely it might get around your place when R.D. has to travel for her projects. And since I’m so busy most of the time, I can only do so much to help with that.”

Caliban slowly nodded, biting his lip.

“So, I thought that maybe Snare could help keep you company. That’s his name, by the way. Snare.”

A few long seconds passed before Caliban echoed, “Snare. Snare the hare.” He paused, then let out a quiet chuckle. “I like that.”

@sammys-magical-au  @callmegkiddo  @insane4fandoms  @inkangeliguess  @flamestar456  @forestcouncil   @slasher-smash  @themarpsimp   @neons-trash-blog  @ayoreneehere   @sw33tst4rs @butterboyfly @i-dont-like-it-here-please-help @dleep-deprivation-idk-jelp

[thegoldenherd]

So... I love the "Spiders-man" concept, but don't have access to any of his comics, so I've basically just made a whole new OC with the same concept.

I'm still working on the character design and whatnot, but I'd like you to have this.

[internal-bleating]

Idk if somone has already done this one but I made a character alignment meme template

[gemsofthegalaxy]

someone wrote an aromantic wuvvy and it's like the opposite of the common and my own interpretation but..... dang. i feel like. there's a lot there.

[sinecosinewheel]

dunno if this is the popular interpretation but i like to think the hunters dream is the doll's dream and her physical form in the abandoned workshop is sleeping hence her finger moving. so flora gave the doll life in part to have a place to put gehrman and give hunters assistance when they dream

[mx-paint]

Some of y'all are weak. Y'all don't need a reason to say your fav fictional character did nothing wrong you just have to say they're your little meow meow and everything falls into place.

[eyeball-man]

[lady-ashfade]

Other skin: Yandere!Characters reaction to a female demon slayer landing on you.

Plot: They watch a woman fall on you and her…chest is in full view in front of your eyes, and she flirts with you.

Reader: imagined female but no pronouns.

Notes: I just thought of Tegan and his wives reactions and I got excited, I love jealous yanderes.

Characters: Tengen & Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru, Mitsuri Kanroji, Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Disclaimer: I have not read the manga so most of the reactions are based on the show and fics I have read. So please forgive the inaccuracy.

The place was filled with other demon slayers from all types, sizes and skills that varied from race or religion. It was unlike anything you had seen before and the couple related in that way, this was something special. The lovers watched you closely as soon as you came into view to keep you safe and sound, but let you explore for just a few before wanting to smother you.

So their eyes followed you as you greeted people or looked at the decorations around, even the food tables with happiness in your eyes. They were taking amongst themselves at how cute you looked with such a innocent sparkle in your eyes. But soon they watched you get tackled to the ground unexpectedly, not watching anything else but you so it slipped their sight. The couple rushed over quickly, Tengen was the first to get there.

You groaned at the impact you took and your head ached. Weight pressed on your chest and it made you open you eyes slowly with the pain still in your head. But unlike meeting a face you were meet with a woman’s cleavage in front of you at eye level. Your face heated up quickly and eyes getting wide, you snapped your head up to the woman’s eyes. “Oh? What a lovely expression.” Her lips curled in a smirk as she ran her tongue across the outline, her tone smug and confident.

“Don’t get embarrassed, makes me wanna eat you up.” Her hands pressed harder onto you and you only got more flustered. Her hips sat on yours and everything about what was happening was too much to process.

Suma was terrified at first of how you could have hurt yourself, then as she got closer she saw the woman onto of you. She teared up quickly at how she got to be on top of you, how she pressed into your skin. She cried for her to get off of you. Makio of course was scared of you getting hurt but she was more angry to yell at the person, knowing the others would check you first so she could handle the bitch. But, when she saw your eyes meet her chest…She was pulling out her weapons quickly, how dare the woman take advantage of you? Hinatsuru was of course just like suma, but over all just very scared for you. Had your head took a big hit or how was your back and body? She was in motherly mood. Just like the other girls she got jealous of the woman, her perfect baby must be so scared right now.

Tengen was pissed from the get go, how dare someone crash into somone as fragile as you? Being a harisha he had speed, so he got there first to witness what the woman said. His eyes twitched and he had to refrain himself from slicing the woman’s head off. His aura was filled with rage he looked like a monster. He noticed how she pressed her body closer to you, her hands on your chest, flirted with you and got you shy.

“Come one, tell me your name?” She took her hand off your chest and went to touch your face but her wrist was grabbed in a death grip. Both of you looked up to see tengen looking at her with a smile that sent shivers down your spine. “They are off limits to the likes of you.” He flashed a toothy grin and threw her hand to the side, next thing you knew was being picked up into the air and his arms around you. The woman landed on the ground with a annoyed, “And who are you?”

A gasped left your lips when you saw a fist hit her cheek and quickly took notice it was Makio who punched her. The two other woman pulled her back and screamed it was enough as she tried to go after her. The woman got up quickly and dusted herself off and walked off quickly, leaving all of you behind with a stomp in her step. “Leave it.” Tengen ordered and they stopped and obeyed his orders.

Suma came over and cried about how she was sorry the woman got to close. “She wasn’t even that pretty, how could she touch you like that?” She was so jealous. Makio crosses her arms and slightly yelled at you for looking at her, or how you didn’t try and get away from her. “She was a hag, how could you blush like that? Its pathetic.” She was still fuming at the thought of you looking at another woman. Hinatsuru checked you for bruises or cuts, any signs of harm she could have done to you. “Did she hurt you? What a horrible person, look at you. So shook up, don’t worry she’s gone.”

You couldn’t leave their side the rest of the night, no matter how you tried. It took so long to convince tengen to put you down. They hated not being there for you, it only pushed them closer to taking you away…

Mitsuri hated leaving you alone even for a second, the thought of someone else hurting you or something happening to you. She couldn’t handle the thought. But now she lost you in a crowded market place and she panicked at the lose of your hand in hers, that she forced you to hold, and had no sight of you. Her voice got lost in the sound of so many others, she pushed through the people and looked for you but kept getting pushed back.

This was supposed be a fun day were she could spend every second with you and she wouldn’t look suspicious. She could hold your hand, be close to you, keep you in her sight and blame it on the worry of losing you. But now she saw her mistake on taking you here, she shouldn’t take you on busy days or anywhere this big.

Making it passed the crowd she took a deep breath and searched around for you. When she saw your outfit and a woman on top of you she froze in place. Another woman touching you, sitting on your lap, getting to be so close. It made her see red. She saw you blush at the sight of her chest and wondered if you’d blush like that if it was her.

“Tell me your name cutie.” Her voice sounded so sensual and it only made it worse. Mitsuri was inches away now and glaring at the woman, wanting to tackle her to the ground and away from you. But she smiled like she aways does and appeared next to the woman’s face with a huge smile. “Mind getting off them? I’m sure they don’t appreciate it.” Her cheery tone and smile didn’t match her energy at all, and you knew her well to notice.

“And who are you? This one’s mine?” Mitsuri took a moment of staring at the woman to giggling, making you both confused. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, I wasn’t asking.” The weight disappeared off your body as Mitsuri kicked the woman off of you and sent her rolling away. You stared in shook as her expression didn’t change from a sweet one. “This one will never belong to the likes of you.” She pulled you up and gripped ahold of your waist and pulled you close to her.

“I’ll make sure of that..”

He’s always dragging you away from others and doesn’t care what gender they are, if they aren’t him? Then they don’t deserve your time. So it’s hard to get a chance away from him since he doesn’t let you out of sight while he’s around. He sees you as something everyone should want, but you can’t fight them because you’re weak. (Even if you’re a demon slayer or a harisha, he doesn’t care)

He was coming back from a mission and waited for your presence and he looked around the butterfly mansion for you. He missed you in every way, to your smell to your smile and how you made him feel calm but so many other strong emotions. When he opened the door he found something that he couldn’t comprehend. He felt so many things that he stopped working for a minute.

A unknown woman straddling you and her chest in full view in front of your face, her body presses up against you. The look on your face was enough to show that you were embarrassed and flustered, how you tensed up. He is the one to get straight to the point and wouldn’t care who she was. She was coming off of you.

He walked over with the most calm expression and didn’t make a sound, only his footsteps could be heard. You noticed him first and got scarred at his expression. He didn’t say anything as he took a fist full of her hair and dragged her off of you, throwing her to the ground and standing in front of you.

“It’s considered disrespectful to touch something that doesn’t belong to you. They, are mine and I should kill you.” He laughed and got his grin, his fire coming back. “I’ll give you five seconds before you see why harishas are the highest rank.” She run out the door quickly and left without a peep. Then his attention was on you and you got a sick feeling in your stomach.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He kneeled and got close to your face, “Did she touch you worse then what I saw?” Stuttering you explain what had happened and how it was a accident but he didn’t truly by it. Or he believed your intentions but not hers.

“If I see something like that again you’re getting punished as well,” he took ahold of your chin and yanked you forward. “Understand? No one touches you but me.” You had no choice but to agree.

She was reported dead in a week.

[autismprotocol]

TMAGP Theory Board ( EP 10)

Hi guys sorry for the late post I ended up drawing a lot for this update especially because it's the last one before the hiatus so wanted to give it a little more pizazz :D

What Happened in Episode 10: Saturday Night

Interview with Nigel Dickerson. The inccident report this week was all about Mr Bonzo. If you remember from last episode Nigel is the famous tv personality who created the character of Mr Bonzo. During this interview he recounts the rise and fall of Bonzo while being ominous and on edge the whole time. what I gathered from the interveiw is that Bonzo is either trapping Nigel or Bonzo and Nigel are linked somehow. (when he say "he won't let me leave" and refers to himself as "us") we also learn about the murders that are connected to the Bonzo suit, first by the serial killer Terrance Menki and very recently 3 unsolved murders. Nigel also mentioned that the actors who wore the Bonzo suit would be prone to injuries on set which is also really stange. Could be they were used as Bonzo's victims near his begining

Gwen meets Mr Bonzo. The other section of the episode dealing with Bonzo is when Gwen goes to Nigel's house on her first assignment as the Externals Liason. So turns out Bonzo is maybe a hitman for the OIAR! Also, big thing Mr Bonzo is atually alive and is introduced with some kind of practice almost resembling a ritual. I heard somone mention they think Bonzo is an avatar of the Stranger and I can definitely see this. I'd love to hear if anyone else has a theory for what entity Bonzo may be connected to.

The Return of Colin. Colin isn't dead!! Shocking absolutley everyone Colin is still kicking. a few episodes ago he was sent on mental health leave by Lena after his parnoia caused him to mentally snap. Celia sees him while on break and they have a short convorsation. Colin tells Celia that he need to figure out the computers. also big thing Colin is back without the permission of Lena. It will be interesting to see what hes looking for and if he'll continue to sneak behind Lena's back.

Sam and Alice's Adventures into the Institute. Probaly the biggest development lore-wise was Sams and Alice investigating the ruins of the Magnus Institute. They don't find much (but I'm still am gonna talk about it for awhile) Alice mentions that there were weird carvings in the floor which she later equates to the worms on the ground. If you are a Archives listener hearing about worms in the archives starts seting off all kinds of alarms. This means in this universe the Jane Prentiss attack still happens, which is especcially iteresting because If I'm not mistaken in TMA the worm attack happened spesiffically to mark Jon with the corruption. Was Jon ever part of the institute? or if not Jon there must have been an archivist role in this Magnus Institute that would require Jane to attack it.

ERROR and the Tape Recorders so far in protocol we have been listening to the characters through either the computers or though their phones. But during the last few minutes we here the click of a tape recorder. and TMA fans around the world rejoiced. The magnus archives is entirley told through tape recordings and are a tool used by the web (spesifically the avatar Annabelle Cane) does this mean Annabelle made it to this universe? or it could also signal the presense of Jon (since the tape recorders are linked to him) Alice and Sam investigate the archivist office looking for a place for the key when the floor collapes and Sam drops the key. After some Sam and Alice banter, they leave but the recorder stays running we then hear the scraping sound and some shutterd breathing. This is when I highly suggest going through the transcript after listening to an episode becuase they specifically what were hearing and who is breathing.

I included the snippet from the transcript that pinpoints every not verbal sound we hear

water from the pit under the archives is disturbed

thud on wood then a rattle of a padlock

Key being dragged across the wood then fumbled into a lock that clicks open

trapdoor opens and ERROR imerges

ERROR takes 3 breaths

ERROR has been used before for redacting the roles played by Johnny, Alex and Tim (aka the voices of FR3-d1) during the cast anouncements for protocol. This makes me think that ERROR must be someone from the Archives universe my running theory is that it is a entity that houses Jon, Martin and Jonah's souls or consiounous. but It could literally be anyone. I'm also thinking ERROR has been locked in the tunnels under the archives (Mentioned in TMA)

And thats about Everything! plese let me know your thoughts or if you wanna correct me on any mistakes :)

Also I would love to know if you guys would prefer this style of post where I illustrate moments and scenes from each episode? it would probably delay when I'm able to post the breakdowns but I'd love to know if you guys perfer that format over the less illustrated one.

[jusalle]

Richarlison Headcannons💛

When you first met Richarlison, he was shy, but once you got to know him, he was a bundle of joy.

Whenever you called him "darling" "love" or any nickname, he would always get so flustered with you.

Also you absolutely fell in love with his voice, the way he spoke Portuguese to you.

Then the same with you, when he would call you "amor" "baby" "princesa" you would always get so nervous.

Then the same for Richarlison he fell in love with your voice when you spoke Spanish to him.

You would always speak Spanish to him and he would speak Portuguese to you since they were so similar. Also you knew he wasn't the best at English.

His weakness would probably be your kisses. His knees would always go so weak.

Richarlison would always wake up early so he just admire you until you woke up

One thing he noticed about you is that you always get nervous under his gaze

"Amor look at me" Richarlison said while chuckling

When he said that you still didn't look at him, so he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

Once you looked at his light brown eyes, you face turned red

The way he looked at you just made you nervous, especially when he's taller than you and he had to look down at you.

He loved when you went to his practices and game cause he would always try his hardest for you.

Every time he scored he would make a heart with his hands and point at you.

Richarlison was very observant and he noticed any little thing, if you were quiet he would notice and if you didn't want to eat he would notice.

"Hey are you okay princesa?, you've hadn't even talked the whole gathering, you looked tense. Do you wanna go home right now Princesa?"

When Richarlison had to leave early in the morning for practice, you didn't want him to leave and he did didn't want to leave you either.

"Please stay with me, I don't want you to go to practice, it's to early love."

"Amor I gotta go or else Neymar will kill me again" Richarlison said laughing

"How about when I get home, I'll spoil you with all my love, does that sound good?"

"Of course Mi Amor"

Richarlison really loved that you were so supportive of him and always respected his choices and himself

When he would be stressing and get overwhelmed with people and start tearing up, you would always sit in his lap, facing him and wipe every single tear that fell on his cheek.

When you guys first went into the relationship, he was always so kind to you because he knew about past relationship and you did the same for him.

Whenever you guys were alone, you guys would dance with eachother and hold eachother and be in eachothers presence.

Richarlison is a interesting person, he would do the most funniest and dumbest things. Like for example he would do his pigeon dance.

After the a hard game for Richarlison, you would always cook his favorite foods. Then lay in bed with eachother and you giving him massages.

When you have a cold, you didn't want Richarlison to take care of you, you knew Richarlison already had alot on his plate but no, he's stubborn and still helps you.

"Amor don't come near me, I don't want you getting sick"

"Princesa, it's okay, just let me help you please"

••••

Hello everyone, I hope you guys enjoy this one, somone requested it so I'll shall deliver. But if you guys have any request I'll gladly ACCEPT💛. Also yall need to give me new characters to write about cause I dunno if yall like some Jude Bellingham or some more ochoa or chicharito or ney?

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

God, Being an Accessory to Murder is Exhausting

(Trigger Warnings: implied murder/death, decapitation, gore, light mentions of violence, implied mutilation, implied cannibalism, mentions of organs, descriptions of illegal business, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

(One of the characters in this story does not belong to me. That honor goes to the amazing @sammys-magical-au. I highly recommend giving them a follow, because the stories and headcanons they post are always, always worth reading. Also, this fic is actually kinda-sorta connected to one of theirs, which you can read here. It should clarify some of the plot points you’ll be seeing soon. As for the character that does belong to me, you can find more information about him here. And if you’d like to learn more about the mob he and Murdock work for, go here.  Murdock/Murderplier belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe, but if you’re interested in my personal headcanons on him, go here.)

Sam considered xerself someone who was open to surprises.

When you owed a favor to a literal hitman—and, by extension, the mob that hitman just so happened to work for—not being adaptable could be very hazardous to your health.

Earlier that day, the hitman in question had contacted xer. Apparently he’d taken on a last-minute job, his other accomplices were busy with their own errands, and he was gonna make it xer problem.

(To be fair, Murdock had later explained that The Pentas Family was preparing for a particularly important, unnecessarily macabre auction. It would be taking place at midnight, and would require all hands on deck in order to be kept quiet and hidden.)

Sam never appreciated being dragged into something that didn’t directly involve xer. Regardless, Murdock loved reminding xer that xe had pushed for the alliance between xer organization and his. Not to mention how incredibly generous it’d been of him to accept xer offer, to convince his peers to work with xers, and to have vouched for xer to The Boss.

So, for the sake of personal safety and integrity, Sam had agreed to help with the job.

Xe’d accompanied Murdock to track down his target.

Xe’d assisted him in capturing, interrogating, torturing, and eventually killing his target.

And then. . .

“See?” Murdock asked. A patented smug grin was on his face as he wiped his knife clean with a silk handkerchief before returning it to one of the many pockets in his black overcoat. “I told you that wouldn’t take too long.”

Sam rolled xer eyes, quickly putting on the neutral mask xe’d learned to wear when interacting with him. “You sure did. Must’ve been hard to keep your usual commentary short.”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly just spectating back there,” Murdock retorted. “So don’t preach to me.”  

“Who said I was preaching?” Sam folded xer arms across xer chest. “You just tend to make things. . .dramatic.”

Murdock was right; Sam had partaken in mocking the target before he’d died. Sam was more sensible (read: sane) than Murdock, but xe was still human. And with the knowledge that the target was profiting off of a dog-fighting ring, Sam had been all too happy to let him know how much of a pathetic, worthless, disgusting waste of space he was while Murdock did what he did best.

Murdock shrugged. “Say what you will, but at least I appreciate theater. Not enough people do these days, y’know?”

Sam hummed nonchalantly. On one hand, Murdock did have a valid point. On the other hand, Murdock had used a pair of slip-joint pliers to pull out the target’s teeth one by one, and Sam, while definitely not being a prude, wasn’t sure if that could be compared to theater.

Murdock tapped at his cellphone’s screen. The device emitted a few beeps, and he smiled as he put it away. “The cleanup crew is on their way; they’ll take this guy to the crematorium. Once they’re here, we’re free to go.”

Sam nodded, relieved that she’d be taken back to the hotel soon. “Sounds fine to me.”

Murdock dug around in his leather “toolkit,” which was always full to bursting with an honestly comedic amount of gadgets that boasted their own unique ways of making someone wish they hadn’t pissed off the wrong person. He unfolded a clean body bag, laid it on the floor, and held it halfway open like a trick-or-treater would a pillow case.

Sam got the message. She ventured closer, loosening the ropes that attached the target to a folding chair, then maneuvered the corpse into the person-sized tote. She stepped back and watched as Murdock began zipping the bag up. It was halfway closed when he suddenly stopped.

A few seconds of total silence came and went.

Sam blinked at the hitman, immediately tense. Even with his glasses on, it was somewhat easy to read Murdock’s expression. The current expression was one of realization. . .and panic.

And when a contract-killer panicked, anyone with two brain cells to rub together knew that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

“Shit,” Murdock said quite eloquently. “Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit, fucking damn it—!” He stood up from his kneeling position and began pacing the floor, raising both hands to grasp at his head as though his brain was trying to crawl out of his skull.

“What?” Sam asked cautiously. “What’s the matter?”

“I must’ve mixed up some things on the agenda,” Murdock groaned. “One of my buddies is expecting a carcass this month, and I have to wait at least a week before I can take on another job.”

Sam immediately felt obligated to ask why in the fresh hell someone would want or need a dead body delivered, but then she remembered who Murdock was and the types of people his “buddies” usually were.

“You’ve. . .already got this guy,” Sam said, awkwardly gesturing to the target’s corpse. “Why not just cancel with the crematorium and give him to your friend?”

Murdock peered at Sam over his tinted glasses, the look on his face suggesting that Sam had just asked him if water was wet.

“We can’t afford to dispose of bodies in just one way! If we did, we’d risk having concentrated amounts of evidence on our hands.” He looked back at the target. “This guy was a big name in the underground. We need to erase him entirely! His cronies will come looking for him, and the sooner we can lead them astray, the easier it’ll be for us to pick them off!”

Sam held up her hands in defense. “Alright, alright! I get it! Don’t bite my head off just for asking a question!”

Murdock was about to counter, but he suddenly froze in place. His mouth hung open, as he’d been mid-rant, and his eyes grew so wide that Sam could nearly see his scleras through his glasses. His expression slowly but surely shifted from panicked to contemplative; if you listened closely enough, you would’ve been able to hear the gears turning in his head.

“There’s a cooler in my trunk,” Murdock announced. “Go get it.”

“How’s that gonna help anything?”

Murdock’s only response was to frantically wave at Sam with one arm as he dug through his toolkit. “Just go get it! Now! Hurry up!”

Sam flinched at his tone, then jogged down the corridor and up a concrete staircase. She made her way outside the old factory that, according to Murdock, the target had used to host his matches. She cursed under her breath as gravel loudly crunched under her boots; she never thought she’d be grateful for a job-site to be in the middle of nowhere, but now would’ve been the absolute worst time for a potential witness to pop up.

He rushed to the car and popped the trunk, which was filled with bags and boxes of spare weapons and the like. It was actually pretty organized—how else would Murdock be able to transport dead bodies? Even so, it took what felt like an hour before Sam managed to find a red n’ white container meant for preserving organs that had been selected for a transplant. It was heavier than it looked, but it didn’t slow him down as he hurried back into the factory. The sound of skin being torn didn’t stop him. . .well, at least not until he returned to the room. Then he was frozen in the doorway.

Until he’d started working with Murdock, Sam hadn’t known what a Gigli saw was. For one thing, it hardly looked like a saw at all. It was a pair of handles connected by a long, flexible steel wire. And unless you got too close to the wire in question, you’d never know that it was covered in hundreds of small, razor-sharp barbs.

It also typically required two people to each take a handle and pull it back and forth. But Murdock was nothing if not a tenacious bastard, so he was keeping one foot on the body’s chest to hold it still as he leaned side-to-side in a pattern, grasping both of the handles. The wire was looped around the target’s neck, forcing his head to shift as blood oozed down his shirt. This method was definitely unplanned and only semi-coordinated, but it actually seemed to be working.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Sam shouted, nearly dropping the cooler in shock.

“What’s it look like?!” Murdock fired back, not looking at them. “Don’t just stand there! Bring the cooler over!”

Sam’s stomach twisted as they approached, coming to stand beside Murdock. The metallic stench of blood practically punched them in the face, and they couldn’t help but gag.

“Oh, don’t get all squeamish on me now!” Murdock snapped.

“Are you fucking kidding?!” Sam barked. They obviously didn’t want to look at what Murdock was doing (the target’s neck almost resembled a chewed-up apple core), but staring at the floor meant staring at the spreading pool of red. “I only agreed to help with neutralizing! I never signed up to be involved with dismembermAAAAAAAHH!”

With a loud, sickening pop, the target’s neck broke, leaving his head to tear away from strands of brutalized flesh and bounce once, twice against the floor with a soft crack. It rolled dangerously close to Sam’s boots, and Sam responded in a very warranted way via kicking it across the room with another scream.

“Hey!” Murdock squawked, running after the head, stooping down to pick it up and tuck it under one arm like it was a football. He glared at Sam as he came jogging back. “What was that for?!”

“Take a wild guess, you psycho!” Sam had to force themself not to back away. They opened up the cooler, holding it aloft for Murdock to deposit the target’s noggin, then slammed it shut before the target’s glassy, unseeing eyes could stare up at them.

Murdock paused, then gave a quick nod before kneeling down to zip up the body bag. And although Sam was grateful to not have to look at a now headless corpse, they were also very confused, very disgusted, and very frustrated.

“Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?” Sam growled, just barely able to keep a tremble out of xer voice.

“Change of plans,” Murdock responded. “When the cleanup crew is finished, you’re gonna take this and go with them to the crematorium. You’ll be able to access the tunnels from there; Cal’s place is connected to one of our dens.”

When the subway tunnels were still operating, more than a few above-ground buildings had been connected to the platforms and used as stations. So, of course, after the tunnels were condemned, those buildings had been repurposed; most of them were now relatively small shops and the like, though a precious few had been turned into houses.

The Pentas Family had managed to purchase every single one of those former stations. Its members either lived in or worked out of them. Thanks to this, the public eye was drawn away from the tunnels, which were now a network of hidey-holes that offered discreet movement far beneath the noses of local authorities.

“Why?” Sam inquired, despite already having an idea of where this was going. “Who’s Cal—is he the one expecting a body?” (Sam had heard Murdock mention that name a few times before, but xe’d never had a chance to meet the guy in question. Until now, apparently.)

“Obviously he is!” Murdock answered, sounding incredulous. “I’ll let him know about what’s happened, so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to find him once you’re down there.”

For a short moment, Sam’s mouth opened and closed without any words coming out. Xe slowly began shaking xer head, pushing the cooler towards Murdock.

“No,” xe eventually said. “Nononononono, you’ve already dragged me into enough of your schemes for today.”

Murdock threw up his hands. “The auction is happening in two hours, and The Boss needs me to help prepare for it! I can’t be in two places at once!”

“Then maybe you should talk to The Boss about this!” Sam replied. “You’re always bragging about being her right-hand!”

Silence.

Murdock didn’t go on the defensive, didn’t get all offended that Sam had questioned his place in the rankings. He simply gaped like a fish for a couple seconds, then shook his head and stared at the floor.

Sam had only ever met The Boss once, for a very brief time after xe’d offered Torchwood’s deal to Murdock and The Pentas Family. Despite being a new ally, Sam was still an outsider, which meant that xe didn’t even know her name. Only the mob’s representatives got that privilege, and even then, they hardly ever referred to her as anything but. . .well, The Boss.

Sam’s first and only encounter with The Boss had been in a dimly-lit office, so xe could barely remember the woman’s facial features. She’d spoken softly when she explained the terms of a partnership, when she’d revealed to Sam that she’d been looking for another organization to work with and that Torchwood seemed like a good candidate.

Other than her clear Us versus Them mentality (as well as the fact that it took a very, very special type of person to earn the respect of murderers, then corral those murderers and dare their enemies to do something about it), the only thing Sam knew for sure about The Boss was that she was assertive, but not a tyrant. The way Murdock was acting right now proved it.

He always spoke highly of her, but shockingly enough, it wasn’t out of intimidation. He wasn’t panicking because he was afraid of being made into an example; he was panicking because he genuinely didn’t want to disappoint.

It was, honestly, a bit poetic. . .

However, that wasn’t exactly the point of this scenario.

“Murdock.” Sam stated through gritted teeth. “It’s been less than an hour since you had me tag along to kill somebody. And now you think you can just send me on an errand? To take a severed head to one of your pals?!”

The hitman pursed his lips, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

“Well. . .Cal actually has some of the stuff we need for the auction, so, I was kinda hoping you’d help him move it to the base. . .”

By now, Sam’s grip around the cooler’s handle had become so tight that it was a miracle the container hadn’t fallen apart right there.

“Look,” Murdock said pointedly, trying to shake off the rare bit of vulnerability he’d just shown. “I’m not thrilled about this either. We both know that I’d rather be the one to take care of these things. And that’s for the sake of my reputation, thank you very much.”

Sam scoffed, but still couldn’t think of what else xe could say, so xe let him continue.

“I’m man enough to admit when I’ve fucked up. And trust me, you’re not the only person who’s gonna give me hell for this. Just help me out one more time today, and I swear that I’ll come through in spades the next time you need a favor.”

Sam narrowed their eyes, chewing their lip. While Murdock was the type who treated threats and promises as the same thing, there was still some odd degree of honor among killers (just ask anyone who owed a killer something). He’d fulfilled debts before—although that depended heavily on who he was working with. And he knew damn well that he had Sam to thank for The Pentas Family becoming stronger than it already was.

“You know you’ll be owing me an actual favor, right?” Sam asked. “On top of what you’ve already promised. . ?”

Murdock, who had agreed to give Sam a cut of this job’s payment for her trouble, rolled his eyes and nodded petulantly. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Another moment of silence dragged on, but Sam eventually sighed. “Fine. But if you try to spring something else on me at the last-minute, you will be sorry.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Murdock deadpanned, offering a stressed, sardonic half-smile. His phone buzzed again, and he fished it out of his pocket, the blue glow reflecting off his glasses.

“Cleanup’s here,” he muttered. As if on cue, the muffled-yet-unmistakable sound of car doors slamming shut sounded from somewhere outside.

Sam hummed in response, slowly turning on their heel to head outside. They paused in the doorway, glancing over their shoulder.

“Is there anything I should know about Cal?” They asked. “What do I need to look out for?”

Murdock considered this for a few seconds. “He’s got some screws loose, but he’s not unreasonable. As long as you’re smart and polite, you’ll be on his good side.”

Sam raised an annoyed eyebrow. Murdock’s profession required him to be careful about who he worked with, but it still wasn’t promising for him—a serial killer who basically took commissions—to vaguely hint at someone else having issues.

“Hey, if you associate with my crowd, then you’ll end up working with Cal sooner or later,” Murdock remarked, shrugging. “Might as well have you two get to know each other.”

___

Sam trudged along an old, decaying railway. Caged lights lined the walls every ten feet or so, which distorted the shadow Sam was currently casting as she walked. The illumination was dim, but that was much, much better than the tunnels being pitch black.

“‘iT sHoUlDn’T bE tOo HaRd To FiNd HiM oNcE yOu’Re DoWn ThErE,’” she muttered to herself in a mocking tone. Murdock had said he would let whoever Cal was know to expect her, but she’d been venturing through the tunnels for what felt like thirty minutes.

And it wasn’t like she’d assumed this place to be small. She just hadn’t expected the tunnels to be so unnecessarily labyrinthine. She was sure she’d already taken a wrong turn or two by now. She didn’t bother texting Murdock; even if he wasn’t too busy with whatever preparations he was needed for, the directions he’d potentially give would be cryptic at best.

Unsurprisingly, the concrete walls weren’t clean. There wasn’t as much graffiti as one would’ve expected, but Sam had already passed a few colorful paintings here and there. Sam hadn’t been working with The Pentas Family long enough to know if it had some kind of special code, but she had a feeling that these pictures were an equivalent to street signs down here.

(She supposed they could just be the work of some random artist, but even though the mob kept its business nicely hidden, anyone with a shred of self-preservation would instinctively know to avoid this place. Sam chose to just ignore what that said about her right now.)

After yet another turn, Sam halted, having discovered an intersection. The mouths of three tunnels yawned open before her. The railway she’d been walking alongside up until now stretched down the middle as far as the eye could see. Two more branched out from it, slightly curving as they led into the shadows.

Not only that, but there was yet another work of graffiti adorning the wall of the tunnel to Sam’s right. It resembled a small animal, while all the other pictures Sam had seen so far were abstract shapes—

Wait, no. It turned its head when Sam approached, causing xer to stop once again. Now that xe was closer to it, xe could tell that it was a real creature, but it’d been standing so still a moment ago. . .

The animal’s fur was the color of a thin veil of snow on the sidewalk. It sported four thin legs, with hind paws that were longer and wider than the front ones. A pair of oval-shaped ears protruded from the top of its head. A Y-shaped nose decorated its little muzzle, twitching in a way that would’ve been quite adorable if not for its eyes. They were a deep, dark shade of amber, almost seeming to glow against pale fur.

Sam’s vast knowledge of lapins began and ended with the fact that they didn’t eat carrots nearly as much as television suggested. Even so, it didn’t take long for xer to realize that the creature xe was looking at couldn’t be a rabbit. Its ears were longer and wider than those of any bunny xe’d seen. Plus, its body was just too large and wiry; rabbits were round creatures, small and soft around the edges.

This thing had to be a hare, right?

It shuffled closer to Sam, amber eyes still wide, curious, and maybe a little cold. Sam took an experimental step forward, and it didn’t scurry away as xe’d expected. Instead, it chose to rear up on its hind legs, its front paws hovering in the air as though it wanted to T-pose but just didn’t have the shoulders to do so. Its nose fluttered in an oddly distinct manner. Like it was smug about using such a cute gesture to smell rising paranoia.

Sam blinked. The animal did not.

Yep, definitely a hare.

The impromptu staring contest lasted about ten more seconds. Then, the hare lowered itself back onto all fours and turned away. It tossed one last glance at Sam over its shoulder, then raced down the tunnel and out of sight.

Sam listened as the hare’s footsteps got more and more quiet until they disappeared altogether. Xe wasn’t the type to make something deeper than it needed to be, but xe’d already heard plenty of cautionary symbolism about following a rabbit down a hole. Following a hare down a hole would probably be even riskier, since xe was already below the surface, and hares had no business stalking a network of abandoned subway tunnels.

Lightly shaking xer head, Sam went back to looking between the three tunnels.

Eeny-meeny-miney-mo. . .

Sam had just barely heard a new, louder set of footsteps approach before an unfamiliar voice called out, “Hey!”

Sam flinched, then turned xer head to find a man trekking out of the shadows within the tunnel to xer left.

Both of his arms were adorned by patches of hastily-wrapped bandages. The adhesive was stained red around the edges, but that was nothing compared to the man’s right hand. Layers of gauze were wound about his palm, simultaneously succeeding and failing to hide the stump where his right pinkie should’ve been.

Sam had to keep herself from staring. When it came to stuff like interrogation, mutilation was pretty common in the underground. She couldn’t be sure what had happened to this guy, but she still knew for a fact that it’d been gruesome. Especially since it was probably a measured tactic in comparison to more permanent alternatives.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Bandages snarled. “You got business here?” He stood on the middle railway; he might’ve wanted to get in Sam’s face, but now that he’d gotten closer, he could see just how tall and well-built she was. I.e., clearly not someone who would take much shit from him.

“Yeah, I do,” Sam answered flatly. “So why don’t you mind your own?”

Bandages rolled his eyes. “No such thing as having your own business in places like this.”

“There is, actually. But if you really think otherwise, then it’s no wonder someone got sick of you.” Sam nodded to Bandages’ arms and missing finger, the lack of pity evident in her tone.

Bandages scowled in a very unpleasant way. He seemed to be trying to make himself look bigger. His efforts were unsuccessful.

Sam’s instincts told her that Bandages wasn’t part of The Pentas Family. Though she’d only seen a couple affiliates other than Murdock, she got the impression that there was a bit of a dress code. (Specific clothing wasn’t required, but various shades of red seemed to be. Murdock always wore that currant-colored turtleneck when on the job.) Bandages was wearing a simple gray T-shirt with a pair of jeans. Both articles were grimy, which meant he either got into quite a few scrapes or just didn’t care about his appearance.

“What’s in the box?” Bandages interrogated, pointing to the cooler in Sam’s hand.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Sam replied. 

One part of her felt annoyed, since it was be pretty easy to figure out that her cargo was a transplant container and do the math from there. Another part of her felt a little proud at how Bandages ever-so-slightly faltered; she knew she’d been getting better and better at intimidation. And yet another part of her was desperately clinging to her stone-faced demeanor in order to hide the nausea creeping around her teeth.

If Murdock were here, he’d probably take the cooler from Sam’s hands, open it, and show the target’s head to Bandages. Sam wasn’t about to do that, but she couldn’t deny that it certainly would’ve gotten Bandages to back off. (Unless it somehow didn’t, in which case Sam would have a whole new problem. . .)

Sam was about to just try her luck with the middle tunnel, but she hadn’t even started walking when she felt a hand come down on one of her arms. She retaliated by shoving Bandages back with the aforementioned arm.

“Don’t touch me!” She nearly shouted, her voice just loud enough to slightly echo along the walls.

Bandages tripped over the railway, landing on his back against rusty metal. He was quick to pick himself up, though it took him a bit longer to wipe the shock off his face.

“I’ve never seen you around town before—above or below,” he spat, folding his arms across his chest. Sam snorted, as this guy was desperately pretending that he hadn’t been knocked flat by the person he’d been trying and failing to belittle.

“I can say the exact same thing about you, dumbass. What’s your point?”

“My point,” Bandages said jeeringly, “is that you’re not supposed to be snooping around unless you want trouble.”

Sam narrowed her eyes. “Just because I’m not looking for trouble doesn’t mean I won’t put someone out of commission if they try to give me any. Besides. . .” 

She trailed off, subtly gesturing to the enamel pin attached to her shirt. Not that said pin would’ve been hard to notice; it’d been designed in the shape of a poison dart frog with an appropriately neon color palette.

Murdock had given it to her at the beginning of this arrangement—according to him, The Boss mandated that pins like this one were always provided to Pentas associates. That way, if Murdock or any of his peers were somehow unaware of a new alliance, they’d still be able to tell that the allies in question were A. not intruders despite still technically being outsiders, and B. strictly off limits (to both Pentas representatives and other outsiders. Unless they did something to change that, at least. . .).

Bandages scoffed, though his eyes turned slightly wary. “Just because you’re under protection doesn’t mean you get to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Good thing I’m not sticking my nose anywhere, then,” Sam shot back tersely. “I was specifically sent here as part of a favor that I owe.” A millisecond passed before she clarified, “To Murdock.” She made sure to put emphasis on the name. He was one of the higher-ranking killers in this organization, so it was only fair.

Bandages’ face fell. He lightly shook his head, forcing his mug back into the scowling mask he’d been aiming at Sam. The movement was quick, but Sam, ever observant Sam, had already noticed sudden panic on Bandages’ expression. 

Though they only felt annoyance towards him, they also couldn’t help but emphasize a bit. Murdock was a cold-blooded maniac, after all. Even—perhaps especially—those in his good graces wouldn’t be spared from his demented two-cents. (Which, in hindsight, made the calm-cool-collected demeanor he boasted seem less arrogant and more fucking terrifying.)  

“Yeah, well,” Bandages snarked, “Murdock isn’t in charge around here. What’s more, these tunnels aren’t his turf.”

“Eh, you’re half-right,” a new voice interjected from somewhere up ahead. “This territory belongs to The Boss, but as of late, I’m one of the people in charge of it.”

Sam ever-so-slightly startled, turning xer head to discover a man walking along the tracks towards xer and Bandages. Like most people, he was shorter than Sam (xe estimated he was 5’11), sporting fair skin and a head of neatly-kempt, chocolate-colored hair that nearly matched his eyes. The crimson leather of his racer jacket complimented the black hoodie and gray jeans he was wearing it over.

A sharp gasp erupted from Bandages’ direction. Sam glanced back at him, and was surprised to see just how pale his complexion had become. Not only that, but his eyes were practically bulging from their sockets. His stoic facade might as well never have been witnessed, because if he didn’t resemble a deer in headlights right now, nothing would.

As he grew closer, Jacket-Hoodie-Combo continued. “I’m usually willing to let people pass through here. As long as they’re not wasting any time or space, of course.” He halted a couple feet away from Sam and Bandages, taking a second to peer at the former.

Sam peered right back, making sure to keep her expression neutral. Now that Jacket-Hoodie-Combo was closer, it was easier to see exactly how calculating his eyes were, regardless of his relaxed disposition. Sam knew damn well that she was being analyzed, being put into a category. Plenty of people had looked at her the way Jacket-Hoodie-Combo was right now.  

Sam raised their eyebrows, trying to send a silent message along the lines of, I’m not afraid of you.

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo responded by smiling in a way that all but screamed, Maybe not right now. . .

He then tilted his head to look at Bandages. “Care to tell me what’s going on here?”

Bandages faltered, swallowing a visible lump in his throat. He looked in the opposite direction, as though he was hoping, praying that another person would suddenly pop up and volunteer to be a meat-shield for him.

“Nothing’s going on,” he finally answered, lowering his head.

“Really?” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo asked. “Because it looks like you were trying to instigate something with this visitor.” He nodded to Sam, or rather, to the dart frog pin. (So, this guy was part of Murdock’s “family.” Sam couldn’t be sure if that was a good thing yet.) His voice was light and positive, set in a bit of a Midwestern accent with that edge you could expect to hear from some kind of announcer. Even so, his tone was mischievous, sarcastic, conniving.

“What? You think I was starting something?” Bandages’ eyes were still filled with fear, but now a tiny bit of hope had been thrown into the mix. He shook his head and pointed at Sam. “She was the one who came up to me.”

Sam snarled. “That’s bullshit!” Despite xer desire to handle this carefully, Sam’s current levels of adrenaline made it pretty easy for a nerve to be struck. Especially considering how a complete stranger was trying to lie about xer.

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo’s smile gradually faded. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Bandages, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Oh, come on. I could hear you from all the way down the tunnel.”

That tiny bit of hope vanished. Bandages glowered at Sam, but his expression quickly shifted back to a pleading one at Jacket-Hoodie-Combo’s comment. He tried to say something else, but Jacket-Hoodie-Combo cut him off.

“Stirring the pot with a protected colleague is already a punishable offense, y’know. And that would only be so much to worry about if this was your very first mistake with us.” He took a step forward. “But I distinctly remember The Boss telling you to stay out of here.”

Bandages was visibly shaking as he took a few steps back. “I-I heard that you’d all be busy today! Didn’t think I’d be in the way of anything—!”

Meanwhile, Sam glanced back and forth between the two of them, quietly edging away. Bandages had been trying his damnedest to toss his weight around just a few minutes ago, but now he was clearly making an attempt to not piss himself.

And Jacket-Hoodie-Combo hadn’t even tried anything yet. If he had a muscular build or any questionable injuries, then they were well-hidden by his clothing. There was a small, jagged scar on the left side of his upper lip, but other than that, he didn’t seem too intimidating.

Don’t judge a book by its cover, a voice in Sam’s head chided. By now, she knew that phrase all too well, and for all the wrong reasons. Hell, Murdock was able to come off as pretty unassuming—charismatic, even—when he needed to. And even when the real Murdock came out, he was still so disturbingly casual about it. So, if someone fell for that act, it was already too late for them.

“Oh, we’re busy alright,” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo agreed. “And that gives you even less of an excuse to be sneaking around right now.” 

The smile was back on his face, but it was a different smile than before. It wasn’t calm. It was unnecessarily wide and crooked, revealing two rows of pearly whites. Save for a silver canine-cap directly beneath his scar, that is.

Sam chewed at the inside of her cheek. Yep, there was definitely something wrong with this guy, and he’d most certainly made a reputation out of it.

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo moved closer to Bandages; just a few more steps and he would’ve been able to pin him against the wall. As Sam watched, she realized that Jacket-Hoodie-Combo wasn’t making eye-contact with Bandages. Instead, he was staring at Bandages’ arms, at the injuries hidden beneath patches of gauze. It was then that she finally realized what really made his grin seem so wrong.

It didn’t just look unhinged.

It looked. . .hungry.

“Wanna try again? Or should I just go straight to disciplinary measures like The Boss said I could?” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo’s hand was a blur as he spoke, reaching into a pocket to produce a wicked damascus-steel cleaver. (Sam couldn’t help but wonder exactly how the hell a tool like that had fit so perfectly inside the man’s coat.)

“N-no, NO!” Bandages nearly shrieked. “I’ll leave and I won’t come back, I swear! You won’t have to deal with me again!”

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo hummed at this. “There’s more than one way to make sure I don’t have to deal with you again.”  

He paused, then side-eyed Sam, probably remembering that she was still here. He pursed his lips in thought for a few long seconds before stepping away from Bandages with a melodramatic sigh.

“Move it,” he snapped, pointing toward the opposite tunnel. “Go back to your stupid gang. I’ve got more important things to focus on.”

Bandages began turning on his heel, presumably to bolt like a greyhound. But not before Jacket-Hoodie-Combo’s free hand lashed out and cuffed him on the neck, fingernails digging into skin. Bandages let out a cry of despair, screwing his eyes shut.

“The next time you feel like trying to pull a fast one on us,” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo hissed, holding his cleaver about an inch from Bandages’ face, “just remember that you have nine more fingers. . .and two legs. . .and a whole smorgasbord of things that, should you lose them, would leave you in much worse shape than what you’ve already lost.”

With that, Jacket-Hoodie-Combo shoved the other man away. Bandages quickly regained his balance and fled down the tunnel, the sound of his terrified footsteps still bouncing off the walls even after the shadows swallowed him up.

Jacket-Hoodie-Combo stared after him before rolling his eyes. He then straightened his back as he returned his focus to Sam. “Sorry you had to wait through all that. I’m just so fed up with people; I really thought he’d gotten the hint last time.”

Sam blinked at him, then cleared xer throat. “What exactly happened last time?”

“It’s not really a story worth telling. Just a bunch of wannabes trying to be competitors. They seem to think random street violence makes them look cool.” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo shook his head dismissively. “No tact at all, but they somehow managed to jeopardize one of our more recent plans. So, a message had to be sent. And I was assigned to do the sending.”

Sam tilted their head to the side. “One less person on their roster would probably be a more effective message. Isn’t that what this family specializes in?”

“Yes to both of those things, but The Boss wants certain problems handled more delicately.” Jacket-Hoodie-Combo slipped his cleaver back into his pocket. “I’m Caliban, but most people just call me Cal for short.” He then extended his hand, offering it to Sam.

Sam hesitated, but still reached out to shake. Ja—Caliban may have put away his blade, but she’d seen how quickly he’d been able to fish it out. Even so, he was the person she’d been looking for, and being polite was typically an easy way to stay safe.

That particular sentiment promptly threw itself out the window as an unnatural shape suddenly started moving inside Caliban’s hoodie.

Warning bells rang throughout Sam’s head as she remembered all the strange yet elaborate weapons that’d nearly cost her an eye, a few teeth, or varying amounts of blood in the past. She immediately took a couple steps back, but before she could draw The Lion’s Breath, something popped up through the hoodie’s collar.

Something with white fur. . .and long ears. . .and a pair of amber eyes above a twitching nose.

“And this is Snare,” Caliban chortled with a warm, knowing smile. “Don’t worry, he’s only dangerous when he needs to protect himself. Just treat him nicely and he’ll return the favor.”

This might’ve been the part where someone let their guard down due to a small animal entering the scene in an admittedly adorable way. To Sam, however, the fact that the hare had just been curled up in his owner’s hoodie while said owner threatened someone else with a knife wasn’t reassuring. Plus, despite Caliban’s cheerful tone, something in Sam’s gut told xer that he wasn’t actually joking about Snare being more deadly than he appeared.

“Nice to meet you,” xe coughed. “Thanks for intervening back there.”

Caliban nodded. “No problem. You must be Sam, yeah?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “That depends: how do you know?” (She decided to play along and just ignore how Murdock had obviously followed through with alerting his accomplice.)

“You’re kind of the whole reason this family’s been working with Torchwood. Besides. . .” Caliban shrugged cheekily. “Well, ‘Doc has a couple stories about you.”

“Murdock is the kind of guy to have a couple stories about everybody,” Sam pointed out. 

Excepting the typical violence and death, xer interactions with Murdock had been pretty offhand, if not ominous. So, at the sound of this, Sam was unsure whether to feel complimented, insulted, threatened, or some vague combination of the three.

“True, true. But apparently you’re the only person with green eyes he’s ever met.” Caliban then tilted his head, taking a second to seemingly regard those same eyes. “Very pretty, I’ve gotta say.”

It wasn’t the first time Sam had heard this; having such a rare eye color was a solid bragging right. And despite validation being one helluva drug, unfortunately, when you worked in underground businesses, flattery was often a display of ass-kissing at best and downright slimy at worst. Then again, Sam could tell that Caliban wasn’t trying to flirt or kowtow—

“I’ve never had green eyes before,” Caliban stated, hunger creeping back into his grin. “Wonder if they taste any different from brown or blue.”

. . .Well, then.

Sam’s throat suddenly felt very dry. Not surprising, since it would’ve been a miracle for their jaw to not have hit the ground. They could practically feel their tan skin turn a shade that was roughly on-par with Snare’s fur. They only realized they’d backed away several paces when Caliban started cackling.

“Oh my God, that was perfect!” Caliban wheezed, shoulders bouncing, barely able to speak through his laughter. “And I thought I’d never get a chance to use that one!”

Sam stared at him, trying and failing to stop shaking. She was no stranger to morbid humor, and thanks to her arrangement with Murdock, she’d thought she’d gotten used to those kinds of jokes being aimed at her.

But the way Caliban had said that. . .his voice had barely changed. He’d sounded so calm and casual about implying that he wouldn’t mind eating her fucking eyeballs.

Caliban eventually calmed down enough to form coherent sentences once again, heaving a sigh. 

“Ah, don’t worry. Eyes are an acquired taste, and I honestly don’t want to acquire it. They combine the texture of grapes with the flavor of fish.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Pretty damn unpleasant unless they’re cooked in a special way. And I just don’t have the time or patience for that. Not when the body has plenty of other parts that are so much better.”

Sam instantly remembered the complete and total horror that had been on Bandages’ face, as well as his missing finger and all that gauze he’d been wearing. . .

The words hung in the air for an uncomfortable moment until Sam finally found her voice again. “Let me guess: those ‘other parts’ include chunks of skin out of someone’s arms?”

It took almost everything she had to keep from stammering. She’d already shown fear when she really shouldn’t have. Even though she was taller and clearly stronger, she couldn’t let him think that she was some shrinking violet.

“More or less,” Caliban answered with a shrug. “It had to be done, so what do you care?”

“I care because nobody bothered to tell me that I’d be working with a cannibal today!” Sam exclaimed, understandably incredulous. “Near-death experiences may have become the norm for me, but that doesn’t mean I can just deal with someone who might want to chop me into butcher’s parts!”

Caliban blinked at Sam, then rolled his eyes in an exasperated manner. “I already told you that you have nothing to worry about.”

“You only said that about my eyes!”

“Do you really think I would’ve scared that guy off if I wanted you dead?”

“I didn’t need anyone to scare that guy off for me. And if I’ve learned anything from Murdock, it’s that killers tend to get pissy when they don’t get to take someone off the census. So what assurance do I have that you won’t try something?”

Caliban mulled this over, then leaned against the wall behind him, looking Sam up and down again. 

“First of all, you’re wearing that pin. If The Boss decides to protect you, then we all need to protect you, and I’m not looking to be reprimanded anytime soon. Second of all, I can’t afford to butcher anyone who the family hasn’t decided needs to disappear. And third of all. . .” 

Something distant and unreadable manifested in his eyes.

“. . .Anyone who’s a friend of ‘Doc is a friend of mine.”

Sam furrowed xer brow. On one hand, Caliban was being pretty logical about this; he also hadn’t made any moves to try and harm xer, which was already a lot more than xe would’ve expected from a cannibal. On the other hand, however, having a conversation with a man who was a body-disposal resource for a mob, whose signature method for disposing of the bodies in question was to make meals out of them. . .

It was quite difficult to process. Especially considering how he thought taunting others with this fact was FUNNY.

(Plus, Sam couldn’t help but notice how Caliban had said “friend” in a snide tone, and that he clearly knew damn well how dangerous it was to associate with him or Murdock.)

“I’m not saying you have to trust me,” Caliban continued, “and I’m not much better than Murdock. But the options are always limited. So, you might as well take what you can get.”

Sam would’ve very much liked to call BS, but she couldn’t. Despite all the voices clamoring in her head, she knew that Caliban had a legitimate point. Besides, she couldn’t exactly ignore the sole purpose of managing to get Torchwood to partner with The Pentas Family. There were some unbelievably fucked-up people in the world; people who made Murdock look like a regular saint. And since those people would never be a big loss to society. . .well. . .

If Sam had been able to convince Murdock and his peers to target those who actually deserved all the terrifying things this mob specialized in, then that meant Caliban had been cannibalizing those same targets.

So, in the grand scheme of things, Caliban really was one of the better options of people to work with in an environment like this.

Sam sighed, straightening her back. “You left out how I’d knock you into next month if you gave me a reason to.”

Caliban offered a calm smile. “Probably, but I wouldn’t make it easy for you. Plus, you’d still have to worry about this guy avenging me.” He scratched Snare’s ears, to which the hare purred in an odd-yet-cute way.

Sam felt obligated to ask what exactly Snare was capable of, but Caliban gestured to the container in her hand.

“I’m assuming that’s for me?” He asked.

“. . .Yes,” Same answered, awkwardly lifting the cooler a bit.

“What is it? That thing’s too big to be transporting just one organ.” Caliban’s expression was curious and excited, like that of a child trying to guess what was hidden beneath Christmas wrapping paper.

Sam cringed. True, xe’d had to kill before, but dismemberment was a very different story, even though Murdock had been the one to divorce the target’s head from his body. Xe drew a line in the air around xer noggin, then made the slit-throat gesture.

Caliban chewed his lip. “A head? Really? That’s odd.”

“The rest had to be disposed of quickly,” Sam replied. “And I get the impression you don’t appreciate char-grilled stuff, so it’s this or nothing.” (The target’s corpse was probably a big pile of ashes by now, and it wouldn’t have taken a genius to guess that no one, cannibal or not, would appreciate being given ashes to eat.)

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Caliban retorted. “Decapitations are just hard to pull off, so it’s pretty rare for ‘Doc or any of the others to do it.”

For whatever reason, Sam couldn’t really respond in any way other than shrugging. Eventually, they pronounced, “Aside from this delivery, I was told you needed help taking some. . .other things to the auction.”

“It’s not something I can’t do myself, but I wouldn’t say no to some extra help.” Caliban looked briefly surprised, but understanding returned to his features quickly enough. “‘Doc really needs to start using a planner, huh?”

“No kidding.” Sam glared at him before sighing. “Might as well happen, if I’m gonna be working with you guys.”

“Thaaaaat’s the spirit!” Caliban beamed in a very unconventional way. He turned away from Sam, then beckoned for her to follow as he started strolling into the tunnel on the right. Sam glanced at the other tunnels, then padded along, though she made sure to stay on the opposite side of the railway.

The cannibal walked at a quick pace, keeping both hands in his pockets. Snare didn’t budge from his owner’s hoodie; Sam couldn’t help but wonder if said hoodie had been modified to have a special interior pocket for the hare to ride in.

“So,” Caliban pronounced. “How did ‘Doc kill this guy? If he actually managed to take the head off before he died, I’m gonna be really impressed.”

“Why do you want to know?” Sam inquired. She realized too late that there had to be more than one reason, and that she would have approved of exactly none of them.

“Because if the head hasn’t been too damaged, then I might be able to sell some of the less-than-edible parts.”

Sam bit her tongue, barely able to keep repulsion out of her face. “Stabbing. Multiple times in the stomach.”

“Yeah, that sounds like ‘Doc.” Caliban glanced around Sam to analyze the cooler. “So, that’s a brain, two eyes, one tongue, at least twenty-seven teeth or so. . .”

“Uh—no, actually,” Sam piped up, cringing. “Murdock pulled all the teeth out during the first phase.”

Caliban quirked an eyebrow. “Probably should’ve expected something like that,” he admitted, sounding vaguely disappointed. “Oh, well. There’s no way the cleanup crew didn’t pick up the teeth themselves. Maybe they’ll drop ‘em off at the base.”

“And they would do that because. . ?”

“Because of the auction,” Caliban stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Teeth are easy to clean, and a whole mouthful can fit into the smallest jars. They’re probably the only pieces that can be sold on the same day as a job.”

Sam remembered that one time in her youth: when she’d been unable to sleep because she’d gotten so nervous about what a fairy could possibly want with the baby teeth she’d lost.

She shuddered at the thought of some suspicious character drilling tiny holes into a handful of teeth in order to line them up on a thin chain, and then wearing them as some awful necklace or bracelet. (Then again, a person would have to be pretty damn stupid to slip on a piece of evidence and show it off, but Sam supposed there wasn’t anything stopping that person from only wearing said evidence around places where they wouldn’t be questioned.)

“How do events like this work?” Sam blurted. She nearly froze in place, unsure whether to keep talking or to clamp a hand over her mouth.

Caliban tilted his head at her, smirking in a way that suggested he’d been waiting for her to say something she really didn’t mean to. 

“Why do you want to know?” He questioned, making sure to mimic the tone she’d used just a couple minutes ago.

Sam suddenly couldn’t look at anything but the ground. The cooler felt like it was holding a few bricks. “. . .Just in case I ever have to deal with one of them for a mission.”

“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Caliban pressed. “There’s nothing wrong with morbid curiosity.”

“That’s a load coming from you,” Sam snarked. It wasn’t like she was afraid of silence, and she already knew that she wouldn’t like the answers Caliban would give. “If information is important enough, then I might as well ask questions.”

This was actually true. Sam may not have been inexperienced, but the underground was constantly changing and expanding. 

(Assassinations and organ-trafficking were the pies The Pentas Family had its thumbs in. They most certainly wouldn’t guarantee anyone a spot in heaven, but Sam was still aware that, somehow, other illicit businesses managed to be much, much, much worse. . .)

Working with The Pentas Family would mean eventually having to face even more shady groups.

So, if xe had an opportunity to learn more, then xe needed to take it. For xer sake as well as the sake of xer peers at Torchwood.

“Well, for the most part, it’s pretty much just a simple market,” Caliban explained. “Plenty of customers make their offers ahead of time and come to collect, though they might browse if they have the time. Unsold items are displayed and open for bargaining. The auction itself starts near the end, and it’s only used for the most valuable stock.”  

“Is part of that value the fact that you’ve managed not to eat it?” There was a generous amount of sarcasm in Sam’s tone, which xe used to distract xerself from how Caliban called human body parts items and stock.

“I feel like you’re trying to say I couldn’t pass the Marshmallow Test,” Caliban replied. “Which kinda stings, not gonna lie.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Sam rolled xer eyes. “Last I checked, human organs are not at all similar to marshmallows.”

“You’re right: they’re a thousand times better than marshmallows, and that’s not my fault. Besides, they turn a nice enough profit to make it worth having to wait for another delivery.”

Sam stared at him, slowly shaking xer head in shock. Another moment passed before xe glanced between him and the cooler. “What kind of profit are you talking about?”

Caliban seemed genuinely excited to inform. “Prices can always fluctuate if the product has seen any damage. For example: let’s say I’m trying to sell a human skull. If the skull is in perfect condition, then I’d be able to expect three-thousand dollars or so. But if it’s missing teeth or has any cracks, then the most reasonable price would be about eight-hundred.” 

“But why would someone even need a spare skull?” Sam interjected. “Even if it was possible to replace bones like organs, it’d still be way too late for someone who needed a skull donation!”

Caliban snickered. “‘Skull donation.’ I wouldn’t put it past some people to try making that a reality. . .” He then shrugged. “Maybe they’re running hidden experiments that require bone marrow. Maybe they’re testing out different types of weapons. Or maybe they just know something about art deco that you don’t.”

Sam, who always saw fake skulls in stores around Halloween season, couldn’t really argue with that last option. Xe wanted to, but xe couldn’t.

“I’m assuming someone would buy a femur just to give their dog an authentic chew toy?”

“Sure! Snare would know all about that. Just one phalange is enough to keep his teeth from getting too long.” Caliban raised a hand to chuck Snare under the chin. “Your bite’s already bad enough, isn’t it, buddy? Yes, it is!”

The hare responded by craning his neck to nuzzle against his owner’s cheek, his amber eyes practically sparkling. . .until he glanced over at Sam, that is. Then he contrived to look smug and a tad evil.

“A single kidney can sell for ten thousand,” Caliban continued, “and a matching pair can be worth up to two hundred-thousand.”

“‘Matching?’” Sam echoed, somehow having been caught even more off guard.

“. . .Okay, matching might not always be the right word. Especially if you’re harvesting from multiple bodies at a time.”

Sam’s stomach roiled at the thought. It was shocking that bile hadn’t started creeping into xer throat by now. Caliban kept going, and it was genuinely impossible to tell whether he was toying with Sam’s disgust or was just in Infodump Mode.

“Blood can sell from three-hundred-thirty-seven per pint to one-thousand per gallon. Livers go for five-hundred-thousand on average, but you’d be lucky to get three-hundred for intestines, large or small, since they’re naturally so contaminated. Eyes can be about thirty-thousand each, as long as they still have corneas.” Caliban paused, then grinned at Sam. “But that price can be even higher depending on how rare the color is.”  

Sam listened before taking a subtle deep breath. Then she inquired, “. . .What about hearts?”

“Oh, a heart is worth a cool million! Even one with minor damage, let alone a perfect, untouched one.” Caliban chuckled. “Ah, maybe not quite untouched, but you get the idea.”

Sam imagined organs being organized into rows on a small table, each sealed inside a glass jar full of ethanol or isopropyl (xe supposed that could be one way of keeping Caliban from snacking on them). Xe imagined bones being displayed in a similar manner, albeit polished and maybe hung on metal racks. Xe imagined any number of people—probably way more than xer mental health was prepared for—peering at all those specimens, inspecting them, commenting on them.

Xe wondered what it was like from their end; it would be impossible for them to not ask questions, but those questions would likely be about quality that they’d learned to look for via fuck-knows-what. They could certainly try to ask about how the organic wares ended up for sale, but The Pentas Family couldn’t afford to give out that information for several reasons.

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Sam declared. “Human skin is typically ten dollars per square inch?”

Caliban did a doubletake that was almost neck-snapping. “Wow. You got it right on the nose!”

Sam blinked. Then blinked again. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not!” Caliban insisted. “An entire body’s worth of skin can go for up to thirty-thousand, but it’s rare for someone to buy it in bulk. Especially when you consider how difficult it is to remove it all in one piece.”

Goosebumps prickled on Sam’s arms; it almost felt like bugs were crawling all over her.

Sam knew that skin grafts could be used for perfectly kosher reasons. They were essential to a person’s recovery when severely burned, infected, or even cancerous tissues had to be removed. Plenty of dental offices used them for gum repair procedures.

But that was in normal society. 

In the criminal underground, Sam had to assume that human skin could find its place as a watch strap, or a handbag, or seat covers for cars, or even an entire fucking sofa for whatever godforsaken reason. . .

Sam became extremely worried about what that meant for Caliban’s leather jacket.

“Wait.” Caliban suddenly halted in his tracks. “Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, hold on.”

“The first couple ‘waits’ didn’t tip me off,” Sam remarked, though they stopped walking in suit.

“Since we’re on the subject of skin. . .was that guy crying before he died?” Caliban’s eyes were fixated on the cooler.

Sam raised an eyebrow. She’d literally just told him about Murdock’s  back alley-esque dental procedure. “Crying? He was bawling like a CEO who’s been told he can’t buy a tenth yacht to sink.”

Caliban’s eyes bulged from their sockets. His grin grew wider than Sam thought possible, to the point that he almost seemed to have too many teeth. His body language wasn’t violent, but the vibes he was giving off were now even more unsettling than they already had been.

Sam, who was debating on whether or not to draw The Lion’s breath, nervously asked, “Is that a prob—”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Caliban interjected. “ If a target cries, then lead with that when you make the delivery!”

Sam squinted at him, silently motioning for an elaboration. The cannibal didn’t seem angry; he didn’t even seem disappointed. If anything, he was practically bouncing up and down like an excited child.

“The skin on a person’s face usually isn’t worth cooking. There’s only enough of it for one sitting, and I always have to worry about acne and other nasty stuff like that. But tears have so much more of a kick than regular table salt!”

And just like that, Caliban was walking again, faster than before, making a clear effort to not break into a sprint. “C’mon, c’mon! We’re close to my basement! If I hurry, I can take the skin off and prepare it before we leave for the auction! Then it’ll be ready for me once I get back!”

Sam reluctantly quickened her pace. Even before she’d decided to follow a vegetarian diet, Sam had been thoroughly grossed out by the concept of eating chicken skin. And now her guts were turning to water because Caliban was chattering about how human skin compared to chicken skin.

At least her assumption about his jacket had been incorrect. . .

@that-bat  @sammys-magical-au  @insane4fandoms  @ayoreneehere   @callmegkiddo  @anxious-ace  @dleep-deprivation-idk-jelp  @overemotional-cactus  @congratscat  @neons-trash-blog  @butterboyfly  @echoing-night  @sw33tst4rs  @cmaniac123  @i-dont-like-it-here-please-help  @xyzkiss  @fluidfluxsomeone

[rzyraffek]

I have a request! Can you do Eddie gulskin,brahms hellsire and Billy lenz (idk I'd you do the twins from outlast but if u do them to if not is chill) with a S/O who has an anxious attachment style?

- like there s/o asks If they hate them and kinda follows the characters around like a shadow!!:>

Ong! I love it!! This s/o is so me😭 also why i got 3 eggie gluskin requests at once i never even played outlast! But he seems like goofy fellow!

They/them, sfw, mostly meowmeow fluffy. Requests are closed for now due to huge numbers in my inbox

Slashers with s/o who has attachment issues

Billy Lenz

Oh me oh my they are sure something else

He is the one that usually walks behind his parnet like stray cat so he doenst really know how to react?? Especially if s/o asks him stuff "do you like me?" And is clearly worried about Billy abandoning them. Billy will be like ??? Bestie why would you even think like that!! S/o is great he would never!

He stares at them when they sleep, like it would help him figure out how to feel them more loved

Pls dont vent to him tho! He cant take this type of stuff sirously

Eddie gluskin

😳😳

His guy will blush so hard

When they fallow him, his ego will grow so much! Oh darling what you worried you'll get lost? Huh o- well of course i love you! Your my wife!!!

He can spend as much time with them as possible! As far as they don't mind gory backround and screaming people

Like somone acually cares about him?? Frfr?? With consent?? Gee didnt know s/o was chill like that

Once he found them crying in one of hospital beds, he though somonr attacked them but when he realised they were worried about him, Eddie promised to him self that he will never leave them

Asa emory

Bbg wym??? He spends huge amount of money on them and they still think he doesnt like them??? I mean yeah he spends a lot of time away but like😔😔no no s/o you cant go with him to his workplace nono its too gory for ur lil mind

Alrightttt if they ask him nicley he might allow them to sit in his saferoom there for few hours. But dont try to explore this place pls!! S/o gonna explode in real time irl if they leave saferoom(agressive escape room)

Also if they ever feel bad, he has few dogs so im sure s/o can vibe with doggos if they feel bad

Bro asa really doenst know how to make them understand HE LOVES YOU PLS TAKE HIS MONEY AND DOGS AND STOP BEING SO SAD OML

Brahms Heelshire

Vice versa

This guy sometimes doesnt sleep at night because hes worried that they accualy dont love him, and they are just too scared to leave

But his worries fade away as soon as they snuggle to him while sleeping

He would love s/o that fallows him around!! He has attachment issues too!

Oh please dont worry love! He totally loves them

[insanely-lovely-and-random]

Sorry sorry saw Challengers for the fourth time and just had to write a few things I thought down before I lose them.

This time around I was looking at the characters and noticing their major flaws. Like not actions just character flaws. Art is easy cause the movie points out one major flaw of his, confidence or lack of it. Also I'd say related to this said confidence issue is that he represses parts of himself he's not ready to face and here's where it gets interesting to me, that is one of Tashi's biggest flaws as well. See the first few times I watched it was easy to see the similarities between Patrick and Tashi but now I actually think Tashi is actually more similar to Art.

Tashi and Patrick share an outward confidence but I'd say this is actually in a lotta ways a flase confidence on Tashis part. Don't get me wrong, when it comes to tennis Tashi exhudes the stuff but when it comes to personal relationships? I think she wants the power in them but this backfires on her. With Patrick it's because he won't allow her to have all the power and because their young and bullheaded the relationship collapses. Sure Art had his part in it but that fight was inevitable. When Patrick leaves the room her faces crumples, then she has a disaster during the match. Because I think when it comes to people alot of her confidence is more a false bravado so when she loses tennis on top of that? Well I think she hardens her walls. She won't let people see how vulnerable she is, she represses that part of her.

And then we come to Art. He and Tashi are so similar in the sense that Art, I believe has feelings for Patrick from the beginning. But unlike Patrick he's clearly not ready to face them. Just like he's not ready to face that he's losing his marriage. He's ready to hide in what's easy and comfortable because he's afraid of change and who he really is. I think at the start he'd rather stick with the idea what he and Pat have is just friendship because it's the safer option. I think he doesn't want to lose his marraige because it's what he knows. Art does not want to be left alone and left out, I think when he sees Tashi and Patrick getting closer he panics and messes up, just like Tashi did. Art likes to be safe and have somone else take the lead. When he was young it was Pat, in the present it's Tashi but I think there's something else Art wants that he's not even aware of himself. It's that he's okay having somone be in charge, he just also wants them to see him as an equal. But during most of the movie he can't be seen by Patrick or Tashi as one because he doesn't have the confidence to prove himself as one. And I'm not talking just on the court but in life as well.

Now during the sauna scene I think just like Tashi what's he's putting on isn't a real confidence and surety in himself. It's just a hedgehog putting up spikes because he's afraid, afraid of Pat not because he's threatened but because Patrick inspires real feelings in him and that means looking at a part of himself he's spent a better part of 13 years repressing. He lashes out because he's so unconfident in his old friendship that he can only see Patrick being their as a cruel thing not the desperate reaching out and trying to break down walls between them that it is and so.... Patrick.

Patrick I'd say ironically is the heart of the movie and the group. Patrick's major flaw isn't his ego, it's not his confidence, it's not even his immaturity. It's that he's the most open and honest character in the movie EXCEPT when it really matters. (And sorta his obliviousness🤣) Look Patrick is honest about himself in a lot of ways from the beginning, he actually IS confident in himself at the beginning. He knows he can be a dick. He is self aware. He's more honest than the other two but he doesn't trust them enough to be honest in the real ways that matter.

Patrick clearly has feelings for Art at the beginning but he also either knows or thinks that Art isn't ready to face them and so he doesn't push past those boundaries. They're all over eachother yeah but there's an unspoken thing between them. Art denies it with words but Patrick never does but he also never says it, he won't rock the boat. But then like a child who can't get what he wants he seems to treat Art almost as a toy. Now don't get me wrong not in a callous way but in way that if he can't have Art the way he wants, at least he has the control over him. He's in charge of course until he isn't. He pulled Art's pigtails one too many times and then he's gone to the other person who he loses his relationship with. Tashi.

Pat's right when he says Tashi sees herself in him and she doesn't want to face it. And he's right and that's really what both of them have with him. They see something about themselves in Patrick that they're too afraid to face and so they cut him out.

Now Pat and Tashi are interesting, like I said on paper their the similar ones. And in the a lotta ways yeah. Their both dominant forces and with no Art to balance them they eventually clash. Patrick clearly cares for Tashi but he pushes back when she asserts dominance, Tashi doesn't see him as her peer and he can't stand that. Which is ironic because he (I do believe loves Art) but he doesn't see him as his peer until the end. In fact I think that's what he realises, he begins to in the sauna and it really comes to him at match point. They are all unbalanced, they all have things they need but he needs to level the playing field. Their relationship is a mess because of power imbalance, because of fear and because of dishonesty.

Tashi and Art won't face their true selves. And Patrick hasn't pushed hard enough because he had his own fear. He was afraid of losing them and in the end that fear lost him them both anyways. When Patrick is asked somehting he doesn't want to answer he simply doesn't answer. Tashi asks about them two while Art denies Patrick just looks away. Whenever Art and Tashi are asked questions in the movie they're unsure of they answer with a question. They deflect.

"Who wouldn't be in love with you?"

"What else could I want?"

They. Won't. Face. It.

And so it's Patrick who has to make them.

Patrick realises what they need. They need to be honest. With themselves and with eachother. Cause it wasn't just Art and Tashi who were afraid all those years ago. It was him too. He was afraid he'd lose Art if he tried changing their relationship and brought the unspoken in the open. He was afraid he'd lose his power in the relationship if he backed down in his and Tashis fight so instead he ran away because it was safer. And it all went wrong anyways.

So when he's thinking about pulling the move of laying it all out in the open? It's risky. It's dangerous. It could mean he loses them both all over again for ever this time, but then again... he's already lost them before by being dishonest.

So he faces his own fear. And tell's Art the truth and Art is furious, he's shocked and then he's hurt. He's wounded. Tashi's just confused, knowing something has happened but not fully grasping what. Patrick has laid it all out.. and then? Art smiles. I think Art is relieved. Because this time? It's not like Atlanta, it's no longer a secret between Tashi and Pat because now he knows. He's included and Patrick finally shows he sees him as a peer. Not just somone he has to protect from the truth or lie to. And I think that helps Art breakthrough his own fear and face his true feelings he's buried all this time.

When that match breaks out they take eachother on as equals at last. And Tashi? She must see that they've broken free, they've finally reached that potential she saw so many years ago. And she too might just be ready to face her own self and let go of the pain she's held after losing tennis. She's witnessing something she's missed all these years and I think she probably realises she's missed the relationship between her boys as well because it was that, that helped make them be good tennis players.

I also read that due to touching the net the point may not count so it's truly inconclusive who won but I'll say it again. The match isn't what mattered. Its a game about taking the points that matter. It's game that required the confidence to risk it all and they all did. Patrick, Art, Tashi? They've won.

(All my own opinions and analysis, movie is very open to interpretation! That's why I've watched it four bloody times, I'm obsessed haha)

[jazzyblusnowflake]

OMG hi…I really like your art and was wondering if you wanna be mutuals??????????? Also tell me about your MD ships :3c

honey we are dating- .....okay yknow what- HI PRETTY & TALENTED LADY- yess i will absolutely love toooo 🙈💕💕💕💕💕

also lets see uhhh okay this is an excuse for me to just... expload-

keep in mind not every ship is meant for all of you so dont badger me about stuff that ISNT CANON or YOU DONT SHIP. contrary to whatever you believe, when somone posts about THEIR ships, nobody wants to hear about you NOT shipping it on THAT EXACT post.

hang in there, this gon be a long one >:p

First off we are starting strong with Nuzi- Biscuitbites obviously thats a given- these two just have too much to be said about why and how they make eachother the best version of eachother, whether they ever became canon or not- they fit like puzzle pieces- they lessen eachothers negative traits by being their for eachother.

next is Vuzi- Violentviolet, they are my favorite kind of enemies to lovers 😔 but its also tragic smh. kinda pissed off at how V always does something good in Uzis favor only when she is LITERALLY PASSED OUT- either in the camp ep on the bus or in Alices lab. like damn ofFUCKINGcourse Uzi wouldnt know she cares about her 😭😭😭

envuzi- Violentbitingbiscuits, i love these goobers with all my heart- they deserve the best 😔💕💕💕💕

envy - [does this poor ship just NOT have an exclusive FINDABLE tag name??? im calling them GoldenMemories...], i like to think that if they were in the manor still, and nothing bad had ever happened, these two would be comforting eachother in the healthiest way possible. V needs someone like N and N is just adorable like that uwu

Next we have JxTessa/Jessa- [calling them Fancyblades cuz why not-] J deserves some closure for the shit shes gone through smhhh 😔, its a tragic yuri of J loving and wanting something she probably already accepted she couldnt have, and even then she gotta deal with Ns ass being the favorite one regardless of how hard she tries to be perfect... sighhh i wanna imagine them in a future where Tessa was spared as the only human and J could save her 😭😭😭😭 Tessa might have loved doing mechanical stuff or wore black to hide grease/oil stains on her clothes from her parents and wore gloves to hide her oily stained hands- i want her to have a scene of wiring drones back to life and saving them and saying something like "hey there, you made it! dont worry, ill take care of you, youre my friend now :3" or something //dies//, also before anyone says it- even if Tessa was a teen in the flashbacks- romance is not exclusive to ADULTS, teens can love eachother without having sexual stuff involved. no she was not their MOTHER figure, she was their FRIEND who liked to fix robots for herself to not be alone in a house where her own parents literally chain her up as punishment. i dont even know why im arguing about this, people headcanon or make aus about characters NOT being dead all the time and if Tessa was alive for as long as J thought she was, Tessa would have been a perfectly fine adult either way. so counting this, yes shes canonically considered an adult when Cyn tries to imitate an adult humans body 🙄 makes as much sense as everything else i guess-

next ones i got is NorixYeva/Neva- Solverlilies- i just think theyre neat 😭😭😭 and once again, like everything else in this franchise- they are tragic yuris 😔 damn liam im finding a pattern over here 🤨 anyway, i like to think they either got closer in the lab experimentations or were already close when they were working as WDs in the campsite area for the humans. obviously canonically they were probably straight or just not into eachother romantically- [Nori either u have the worst taste men or Khan just fucking lost it after you died-] but also on the other handddd.... they have 2 hands and they are robots, i want them to kiss like two barbie dolls and im gonna make them do just that-

DollxLizzy/Dizzy- Bloodypink, wost fucking ship names ever, i cant find shit on them with these tags and it makes me angry >:/ at this point 2/3s of my ships are just tragic yuris smh, Doll did not deserve any of the things handed to her, even if she went about doing some things the wrong way i wish Lizzy didnt just abandon her- but then again, Doll did kinda abuse Lizzys trust and Lizzy got scared of being close to a serial murderer so.... morality calls this a draw? 😭 im crying... i wish someone was there to help Doll... sigh... i like to think Lizzy would have waited for Doll to just come back at some point... oh well, thats why AUs exist :"3 //sobs in the corner//

DollxUzi/Dollzi- Bloodybats, this ship is so underrated to me... they could have been... so much more. but why weren't they? did Yeva abandon ever getting close to Uzi when she was a kid after Nori died? did Uzi and Doll just never play around together as kids when their mothers were so close? were they ever close and something went wrong as they grew older? at worst they could have been like sisters together, and at best maybe more than friends. i just dont know what happened here, like Yeva could have tried to keep an eye on Uzi, maybe Uzi could have found Dolls powers so cool before having them too- i dont know theres literally tons of possibilities- but if Doll deserved to be saved or cared for by anyone, at least one of them should have been Uzi... sigh.

ThadxV- Killingblonde, yall this is... the cutest shit... ever???? like from here on out we kinda go into the more or less crackship territory but these two are adorable- Dumbass yet wholesome jock boy that just wants to keep his queen happy 😔👌👌👌 He and Uzi would have so much to talk about on "crushing on literal murder bots that stabbed and almost ate us" its literally love at first stab smhhh 😫💕

ThadxSam- Smokyjock ???? for some fucking reason??? i dont know what my brain did here man- i just like the trope of someone getting under Thads skin- like pair up the healthy sports loving gym boy with the lazy but wholesome dumbass that does drugs or is always just sleep deprived and Thad is always trying to just... take care of his ass and make him take care of himself but he just WONT SMHHH-

okay some more or less crack ships down here:

ThadxN: it speaks for itself. its too adorable and youll go blind from the light of wholesomeness-

ThadxNxUzi: Uzi will die here from the overwhelming wholesomeness... oh bonus if its just a 4s polycule of ThadxNxUzixV i mean i know im pushing my luck but.... random crackships go brr- V and Uzi will complain but love their dumbass golden puppy partners-

ThadxUzi: i think they could have been close and Thad caring about her as a childhood friend turned crush sounds just too cute for me 😔

LizzyxUzi: another random ass rivals to lovers or some shit idk what this is, Lizzy would pay Uzi to kiss the fuck out of her i dont make the rules-

ThadxLizzy: in some cases where they are NOT headcanoned as siblings or cousins, i think they have a good energy of wholesome jock bf and girly queen cheerleader lol, Thad is just a good bf eitherway-

DollxUzixLizzy: the gals would not leave a single second of silence for the small gremlin i swear to God- [Uzi is gay as FUCK for her gfs, absolute girloser unit with her gorgeous but crazy gfs]

okay for the end i have some characters that arent ships but i wish they could have become closer as friends or work out their issues...

J and N- too much abuse and toxicity here, i wish they could talk together more and see they have a lot of things in common- maybe a full line of dialogue from J without threatning N in every sense of the manner would be nice for a change =_=

Doll and V- again, a bit morally ambiguous to ship a character with the murderer of your family, esp when said murderer hasnt expressed regret lmao, but i wish they could at least be friends... Dolls disdain for the murder drones pushed her to end up the way she did. maybe if she didnt do it alone she would have been alive by now. so i like to think what would have happened if she and V could have made up- not necessarily Doll forgiving her- but at least having the space to grow and understand why they did they things that happened.

Cyn and literally ANYONE- i want the solver to be SEPARATE from Cyn- i wish Cyn would have still existed somewhere down there and was savable- i wish this poor child AI had a happy ending to her by connecting with the others as ACTUAL siblings... goddamnit 😔

aaaand thats it for this fine ass day 🫡 yall are welcome to ask about any of these- boy the tags are gonna be.... a lot.

[pinetreegoblin]

I have a silly and indulgent Very Important People fan theory:

Very Important People!Vic Michaelis is extremely insecure and lonely as shown by their dialogue throughout many of the currently released episodes. They seem down on their luck and frustrated by their lot in life especially in their career and their personal connections. They seem like the perfect character to go through a classic “self growth through a journey of meeting crazy characters” plot. 

Each of the characters seem like out of this world caricatures of people they could meet out in the world, and some (like Denzel and Vic’s Grandma), seem like representations of those in her actual life (I also have a fun theory that the dolls were her childhood dolls). Many of the characters themselves point out that Vic seems to be down on their luck and unhappy, and in some way preventing themselves from happiness. Off the top of my head, Vic has referred to their father being murdered, a divorce from their husband, and struggling to get a “real reporting career.” 

If I had to construct a story of how they got to this point I would say the death of their father pushed VIP!Vic into grief induced isolation and loneliness, which inhibited their personal connections as they were stuck in survival mode. The murder of their father inspired them to become a reporter, as an attempt to help other victims of violent crime, but they are struggling to find a foothold. Their unbridled grief and obsession with retribution for their father has put a strain on their marriage and their partner asks for a divorce. Maybe in their exasperation and the chaos of life they are spurred to follow a lead they have no business or jurisdiction to follow and they end up injured. It is in this injury they are experiencing this hallucinogenic state.

The VIP set itself feels very cultivated and its “old-fashioned” eclectic style gives it a vibe of a surreal manufactured reality. Each episode starts with Vic idly messing with some aspect of the set, before realizing the camera is on and putting on the reporter mask. In my memory, none of the people “on set” ever say anything, besides Vic and the interviewee, even when Vic audibly asks them questions. Additionally the cutting off to infomercials gives an uncanny feeling of parody, someone concocting the stereotypical formula of a show. Finally, there are the moments where there is an abrupt cut to a transition card from a more intense scene, almost to redirect the emotional plot. Overall, it has given me a kinda WandaVision vibe of a dreamlike state manufactured in VIP!Vics head in order to address their loneliness and disillusionment with life.

The closing question especially points towards this specific idea of VIP!Vic being stuck in this fugue state looking for answers: “What is the meaning of life?” This is both impactful if we go with the idea she is injured and experiencing this all in an unconscious state (almost "deciding" whether to wake up) as well as just in them searching for the next direction to go in their frozen life. What is the meaning of life amidst grief, loneliness, fear, and unfair circumstances? How can Vic find meaning? In creating this dreamlike fabrication, VIP!Vic is trying to recover and find a version of themselves who can live a more fulfilling life as they let go of the past which has held them back. “Remember to always be yourself, unless you'd rather be somone else” 

TLDR: Vic Michalis is having some sort of surreal, unconscious dream where crazy characters are attempting to help them heal from their father's death, their fucked up social situations, and to find meaning and happiness in their life. Through the interviewees eccentricities they teach Vic their personal meanings of life so Vic can find their own.

(This is all just to be silly, I know a lot of it is just stylistic choices of the show and the nature of the type of show it is, but I just love the show a lot and this little theory came to me)

[nonbinarypirat]

I promised to do a break down on Azz's and Clara's relationship specifically since the initial post was so long (Iruma's relationships within the love trio) so here it is! This is long compared to my initial post breakdown of the relationships since I am just focusing on these two. And I wanted to do these two right since so many people think Azz doesn't like or appreciate Clara.

As we know, in the beginning the two of them mostly revolved around Iruma. Azz was very much annoyed with Clara's personality, there wasn't much to tie Clara to Asmodeus besides playing, and as they mention in the manga, more than likely they would have never met and/or become friends without Iruma. Iruma was very much needed for the initial start of their relationship. However, that doesn't mean that by this point in the story we don't see they both care deeply for each other outside of just getting along for the sake of having Iruma.

Similarly to Iruma, Clara has enabled Azz to experience more playfulness and childlike fun than he ever experienced previously. Clara is not just some afterthought within the love trio. She is necessary for the two of them to open up more emotionally. Especially Azz. Asmodeus in general is a very closed off person by nature, stemmed from a fairly isolated childhood of no one wanting to interact with him. We see this when the soulmates are first seperated because they have to join other clubs. Azz basically never interacted with the other members unless he had to. It's hard for him to open up and let his excitable, lovely side shine through. Clara is one of the people that inspired that in him because even with just Iruma, Asmodeus wouldn't know how to just let himself be playful. Sure, the first time him and Clara played together was because Iruma asked him to, but that was more than likely the first time he has ever done this.

Additionally, Clara gives Azz an extra challenge. She's not easy to understand and is someone he feel like he must compete with for Iruma's affections (of course that has changed drastically in the latest volumes and chapters). Asmodeus is used to being the best, outshining anyone and anything in his path. He's a young genius. But that means he didn't have something to push him to grow. Clara is someone who is so widely different from him that it causes him to have to strive towards understanding her. When they have to work together for the hell dance, Azz realizes that yeah, she thinks about the world in an entirely interesting way compared to him. And he can learn from this new perspective. Azz has really grown to care about Clara because he knows she can open up sides of him no one else can.

Clara on the other hand learns about more structure then she ever had before. Clara has been on a character development of realizing that yes, unadulterated chaos can be great. But it can also just cause trouble for yourself and for others. She can rely on Azz to shut down some of her more outlandish ideas, not because of meaness but because the situation doesn't call for it (though he'll shut it down in the sassiest way possible of course). She lives beyond the comprehension of most people and that's what makes her so wonderful. But she can go overboard and doesn't tend to second guess things. With characters like this, you need somone/something to stop them before something ends up being a giant mess.

And Clara felt the same as Azz too about the way he thinks. To Clara, he also makes zero sense. That's why she also needs to strive to understand him and be more considerate of his feelings. She understands that emotions and care doesn't come easy to Asmodeus. And she gives him room to express them however he can and gives him the encouragement he needs. She truly is the best at understanding the emotions that Azz and Iruma are experiencing. Her role as the emotional challenger/instigator pushes Azz to understand why he is feeling that way.

Like I said, Clara is very much needed in the group. I'll fight anyone who thinks she isn't. Because without Clara's brazen approach to feelings, these two boys wouldn't push themselves. Like, sure she group in her toy box because she could see something is wrong with iuma, but it was as much for Azz as it was for him. Because she would also know when he's feeling down about something too. I saw someone call her their safe place on twitter and its true. She's someone they can go to when they just need to talk to someone or vent to. And like a trained big sister, she will pet their hair and listen.

I really hope we get to see just these two interact more as the story progresses as well as Clara Iruma solo time. Because I care about the love trio so much, they are basically free therapy for me. Oh and in case you were wondering, yes I am obessed with Azz wanting to take a picture of Clara in her cute swimsuit. He's so in love with his soulmates it's so cute. I know he has the best icloud service and still has to backup his photos often from how many pictures of Iruma and Clara he owns.