#maybe four tbh

[deluxewhump]

The Scry

Chapter 10: Good Intentions, Tied Hands

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CW: whumpee with powers, exploitation of powers, forced labor, power imbalance with caretaker, sleep deprivation, withholding of food, mention of suicide and self harm as an escape from torture

Carlo had been gone a week. 

Max found it difficult to focus on his work. In fact, it annoyed him greatly that he was supposed to drop their planned projects and work on his own again for an undetermined amount of time, because for an unspecified reason they’d decided to kidnap his precognitive.

Not his precognitive. The precognitive. Carlo. 

He got one contract rolling, a small one out of a Tuscaloosa based paper plant that he wouldn’t have wasted Carlo’s talents on. But it was something to have on the books for the week, anyway. 

He told Eddie and Simon what was happening, but they didn’t quite appreciate the gravity of the situation. How could they? They hadn’t been given a scared and abused precog to work with out of the blue one day, gotten attached, and then had him mysteriously “borrowed” for an undetermined amount of time.

God knows what they wanted from the poor kid now, where he was. He could be in the building still, or in California being subjected to more unethical experimentation. He thought of the surgery scar Carlo showed him often, whenever his mind wandered. He hadn’t told Ingrid about that. He didn’t know why, he just couldn’t. 

He did tell Alex Clair, though. 

Alex was the only one at Spartan who seemed to be on the same page with him about the precogs. He was the only one who was as dismayed and alarmed by Carlo’s sudden absence as he was, and he came by often now for updates or to share information.

“Zee said he knows about those research facilities,” he said one afternoon in Max’s office. Max exited his browser and laid his temples in his hands. He was exhausted.  

“I didn’t tell him about Carlo’s… personal experience,” Alex added quickly. “Just asked if he knew about things like that going on. He did.”

“I’m worried about him,” Max muttered. “I don't trust them not to hurt him."

“You two did the best of all of us in the first week. They’re  using him for some shady nefarious precog shit, either to make a bunch of money or rig an election somewhere, I promise.”

“That’s reassuring, thank you.” 

Alex’s cheek dimpled in an apologetic half-grimace. “I just mean he’s useful to them. They won’t hurt him too bad.” He was still wearing a Spartan hoodie over more formal slacks, his half-uniform of protest. “I was thinking of trying to get Blake real drunk Friday night and seeing what he spills,” he offered. 

Max was wearily amused. “You think Martin really tells him anything? Or he just walks around like he does?”

Alex sighed. He ran his hand through his hair so it stayed lifted in a slowly falling blond poof, like a muscle memory. “Yeah, I dunno. He’s a tryhard.”

“I think our hands are tied.”

Alex let his head fall back, tossing a ping pong ball he must’ve lifted from the break room at the ceiling and catching it when it bounced back at him. “I’m so sick of it. For real.”

“I talked to a lawyer,” Max confided. 

Alex sat back up. “Who? What’d they say?”

“A family friend. It was just as a favor. My mother’s an attorney, so I know a few. It’s not good. Basically we don’t have any leverage whatsoever. This is all currently legal with the precogs.”

Alex made a face. “That’s it?”

“She said to document everything. Maybe in a year, once this all runs amok and they’re looking for someone to blame…”

“Martin’s such a fucking snake.” Alex tossed the ping-pong ball again. “And I know he’s not the top of the food chain. It’s just, I see his sorry ass every day.”

Max was about to say something about documenting everything together, collaborating on a record of sorts, when a knock came at his office door. 

Alex widened his eyes questioningly. Expecting anyone?

Max stood from his desk, crossed the short expanse of the office to answer the knock. The door swung open to a hollow-eyed precog swaying on his feet, pale and glassy-eyed.  

“Carlo,” he said, and immediately took him from his escort, a guy in a suit he’d never seen before. The escort made no effort to stop him, not did he comment. He left him there,with Max and Alex, and was gone.

-

Carlo could barely stand. 

It had been bad before, but never quite this bad outside of the research hospital where they’d cut into him. He tried to say something, but a wave of nausea closed his mouth again before he got a word out. Max picked him up without a word. He wrapped his arms around his neck, trying to make himself easy to carry. Max carried him to his little cot in the corner of the office. It was still here. He hadn’t gotten rid of it.

He’d missed this cot so bitterly. He hadn’t slept in nearly 36 hours, and hadn’t eaten in longer. Martin found out that food and rest and water only dulled his precognitive powers, slowled them. Discomfort created an edge. Once he knew that, the niceties stopped, and the most grueling scrying of his life began. Max set him on the bed and laid him down. The bed was soft. So soft. Max was speaking, but not to him. To whom?

He saw Alex Clair come closer, looking as concerned as Max. “What did they do?”

“Who knows,” Max said, and gently slipped the CVS thermometer between Carlo’s lips. It beeped and Max shook his head at the number, showed it to Alex. Carlo knew it wasn’t his fault it was not a pleasing number, but he preferred it when he made his users happy. 

“You’re alright,” Max was saying, brushing his hair back from his hot, dry forehead. “You’re safe now, Carlo. You’re okay.”

He remembered Alex sitting on the side of the cot to hold his head up while Max got him to drink from a water bottle. He swallowed some the wrong way and choked, and Alex helped him up a few more inches to cough.

-

Max’s House. Saturday. He’d never been so grateful to wake up and realize it was Saturday in his life. The thought of getting dressed and going into Baltimore, riding the elevator up to Max’s office made him want to cry.

Max had been patient with him, feeding him broth and juice and medicine, letting him sleep for hours, wake up, and sleep more. His fever broke, and then steadily declined until his body temperature was normal again. He wondered how many times he’d recover. How sick could he get and still get better, every time, like the guy who got his liver eaten over and over by birds?

Max looked surprised when he came downstairs of his own volition at eleven, dressed and coherent. 

“How are you feeling?”

“So much better,” he said, though he still felt bruised under every inch of his skin, and his eyes ached in their sockets. He was grateful for the steady drizzle and heavy cloud cover outside. 

“I have news that may be a small comfort to you. It is to me.”

Carlo pulled himself onto one of the chairs that sat tucked under the kitchen island, which seemed to be the house’s gathering place even when Max and Ingrid weren’t using it to cook a meal. He raised his eyebrows in question.

“It’s a long weekend. No work Monday. No office, no nothin’.”

Carlo laughed. “That really is the best thing you could’ve said right now. Except maybe that Spartan sold me to you.”

Max’s smile faltered, then recovered. It didn’t escape Carlo’s notice. He made a note to be careful saying things like that. Did Max not like the idea of him, or was it an extension of the discomfort he felt at the whole situation? He shouldn’t be so needy. Max had done so much for him already, in their present situation. 

“Carlo,” he said with an air of his telephone-serious voice, and Carlo’s heart dropped. I’m sorry, he almost blurted. That was inappropriate. You don’t have to say it. I know. I know. 

“I think we should talk about what happened.”

No, he thought. We shouldn’t. He wrapped his arms tightly around his ribs and thought of Martin's steady voice in his ear as he sobbed, the sound of that terrible and pitiless patience.

“I know it might be uncomfortable ," Max said. "It’s why I waited until we were home, away from anywhere someone might be able to listen in. But it’s just you and me here, and… I think you need to tell me where you were.”

“I was with Martin Olsen,” he answered quickly. “He tricked me after you left for coffee that day. Tuesday. He said he needed me to work on a project with him. For him. If I didn’t, he said I’d be sent away to a research hospital again.”

Max nodded along. His usually clean face was in need of a shave. His hair was looking a little longer too, dark as the stubble that dotted his chin. “What was that project? Can you tell me about it?”

Carlo shook his head firmly. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Max took on a look of measured disappointment that felt to Carlo like a knife in his ribs. “Listen, I really think it’s best if you do. I’m keeping a record of events in case I ever get the opportunity to do something about all this. Legally.”

Carlo had to look away. He stared at a knot in the wood of the island. “I understand, and I still can’t help you.”

Max put a warm hand on his knee and he flinched without meaning to. He hadn’t expected it, was all. Max withdrew the hand and Carlo wished he’d put it back. This isn’t how he thought today would go.

“No one will know what you’ve told me for now, Carlo,” he said seriously. “It will stay between you and me until a time when it’s absolutely safe to use and I have the leverage to keep you safe from any consequences. I’m not going to do anything to get you hurt, sweetheart.”

Carlo closed his eyes. “Don’t call me that when you’re trying to manipulate me,” he whispered. He meant it as a plea, but it came out like an accusation.

“Manipulate you…” Max repeated sadly. “I’m trying my best to help you. I’m feeling very frustrated and helpless here. I can only imagine how you must feel.”

“But you can’t,” he said, and made himself look in Max’s eyes. “Mr Olsen made me sign things. Confidentiality things. Non disclosure.”

“Probably all illegal, in context.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But… it doesn’t matter what I signed because even if I didn’t, if he ever found out I told you or anyone what he made me work on, he’d make sure I got sent to the worst research project he could find, and I’d never leave again.” He lifted his shirt to remind Max of the scar, of their conversation. “Do you know what that would mean for me? A place like that? Do you know what they do to us?”

“I can guess.”

“I’ll die first. It would be so much better. There’s a million ways to do it. I’m not afraid to do it. Once they’ve got you in a place like that, you can’t. They make sure. You can’t find a syringe, a piece of glass. A good wire. Not even a thumbtack. And you can’t starve yourself to death, they’ll just stick a tube and an IV in you.”

He expected Max to chastise him for this kind of talk, or tell him to stop. He didn’t. “And you know Martin would do this if you told me what you worked on?”

“Yes. He told me.”

Max’s mouth tightened. “Of course he did.”

“Please don’t make me,” Carlo whispered. “Don’t make me tell you. It doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.” 

“I'm not going to make you do anything. Can you tell me if it was relating to Spartan or not?” Max asked gently. “If it was to do with money, or politics, or something else? Was it business, or personal?”

Carlo felt tears prick the back of his sore eyes and let them come. He knew from experience that any charged display of emotion from him either made a user colder, almost angry, or they softened. Max softened. 

“Don’t cry,” he said tenderly. Carlo could tell he wanted to touch him again but was discouraged by the earlier reaction to the hand on his knee. 

“Don’t make me say,” Carlo whispered around the lump in his throat. He was going to have to beg. “Please, Sir.”

Max took a deep breath and was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay,” he surrendered.

Carlo knew he’d played his best hand with the Sir, reminding Max of his inherent authority over him. If he’d pushed any more, Carlo would’ve answered that last question. He felt a surge of relief that he hadn’t. He didn’t doubt Martin Olson’s threats for a single second. And he was glad Max relented. He didn't think he could take it if he pushed him, too, like everyone else.

“Okay,” Max said again, and put a tentative hand on Carlo’s shoulder. Carlo turned toward him and leaned as far as he could. Max caught him in an embrace, rubbing his shoulder blades with his broad hands. “It’s okay, Carlo. I’m sorry. I want to protect you, but I don’t know how.”

Carlo got the sense Max was not used to being powerless. He’d overheard him talking with his fiancée, running up against every wall in the corporate and legal structure and becoming frustrated there seemed to be nowhere he could apply pressure where anyone would care.

Carlo said nothing. He enjoyed the feeling of Max’s arms around him, the weight of them tethering him soundly to his chest.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Without telling me anything about what you were working on?” Max asked.

“...Why?” He didn’t see what Max would want from that.

Max pulled back to hold the sides of Carlo’s head in his hands, looking at him with raised eyebrows like he might be a bit of an idiot. “Because I care about what happened to you. I thought you might want to talk about it with someone. With me.”

Oh.

Carlo thought about it. He could tell him of the way Martin watched him carefully, finding out what worked and what didn’t. He could tell him about the sleep deprivation, the cold basement office, the lack of food and water and constant bright lighting. The blackouts, the blinding migraines, the sickness, the mounting cost of pushing his scrying powers far past their limits.

What good would it do? If it was sympathy he wanted from Max, he already had it. He wished he could crawl in this man’s lap and make himself very small somehow. He wished he could be unimportant and left alone.

“Later, maybe? I just want to enjoy the day off.”

Max let him go, and his skin missed the places he was no longer being touched. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.”

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this outfit is very important to me

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

Four NO

From this post by @crazylittlejester

[cerealmonster15]

i want jamiazu + idikei to go on a double date so badly i think the vibes would be So Very Turbulent

[church-of-crayak]

andalitesona revamp revamp

[mitamicah]

Happy anniversary to Bojere specifically :'D

[dantebt]

clownwook ahead (yeah its clown and leo)

_ . * ☆

Tell me if yall are interested in them and ill post more maybe

[guided-by-stars]

It's so hard to find examples of quadrant type relationships in media, mostly because the framework that they're described under is so alien, and the environment that even brings about those types of bonds in general is so extreme, that typical people don't tend to even develop those types of feelings in the first place.

For example, the kill or be killed mentality of Alternia is what brings about the need to Pacify in the first place, and combining that distrust and competition of the planet with the necessity of the drone visits is what makes kismesissitude more common than it would otherwise be, imo. The structures of Pity and Hate (not the same as how we use the word here) as foundations of romance are just so different that it makes sense that it's difficult to find examples. When people talk about the quadrant framework as applied to our world or media, they tend to water it down or twist it in a way that makes it more digestible to whatever cultural norms they hold. (Normal dating, bestest best friends who kiss/qpr, rivals to lovers, That Fourth One)

Which is what makes it even more fascinating to me that when the perfect example of Pity and Hate and Pacification driving an intimate relationship stared me right in the eyes in my analyses, when I was writing them down with my own hands, I completely missed it until I saw @lucabyte 's posts about it, but it's so clear. There is so much intensity in Loop's feelings towards Siffrin, their searing resentment and hatred and pity and protectiveness and jealousy and fondness and revulsion and desire, and all are true at once and all are genuine. Siffrin's pity for Loop is equally as intense, once they Know the truth, and his desire to Make It Up To Them in whatever way that he can is so strong that even if Loop wins their fight, and is strangling them, they never once try to hurt Loop back, only tries to free themselves, and even after that, they still gently cup whatever modicum of face that Loop has in their hands and gives them nothing but gentle reassurance and praise and gratitude and compassion and care. Still wants them to stay. The whole Act 6 fight is an act of Pacification by Siffrin to Loop.

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but New Dad™ Bruce taking little Dick Grayson to DisneyWorld for their first vacation together would be so adorable. Like, fluff in its purest form.

Dick would fucking love DisneyWorld. In part because it reminds him a lot of the circus (the bright lights, the colors, the extravagant costumes), but mainly because he’d get to spend time with Bruce. He’s definitely the type of kid to jump onto Bruce’s bed at 6 AM sharp and drag his ass out of bed so they could make it to the park on time—because as much as Dick loves DisneyWorld, it’s sharing it with Bruce that makes it truly magically.

I can imagine little eight-year-old Dick Grayson guilt tripping Bruce into wearing a pair of Mickey Ears (because let’s be honest, Bruce is definitely weak for Dick’s puppy dog eyes). Dick would drag Bruce through all the attractions, shows, and rides, and Bruce would definitely be overstimulated, but he’d grin and bear it for Dick. Because seeing Dick, his sad and angry Robin, laughing and smiling and covered in chocolate from an overpriced Mickey Ice Cream Bar? That’s worth it.

And besides—there’s plenty of good memories to be made that would distract Bruce from how overwhelming DisneyWorld can be. He takes Dick on Space Mountain (“The Watchtower is way cooler, B!”), they spin way too fast on the Tea Cups, and wait in a two hour line to meet Princess Jasmine because she’s Dick’s favorite. (Dick at one point also guns to do that lightsaber creation experience, but Bruce isn’t stupid enough to give that kid another weapon, even a plastic one.)

Dick would get lost at least once, it’s a given; he’s naturally a little slippery and Bruce would be (embarrassingly) a little distracted by all the mouse madness. Bruce would spend a good thirty minutes losing his fucking mind before he finds Dick chatting up a Mulan cosplayer in a Chinese restaurant at EPCOT. Bruce would be too panicked to be mad and would buy them ice cream instead (yes, even the cosplayer).

They’d probably have to end their trip early—Alfred would reluctantly call with news about an Arkham breakout or some interdimensional threat to the Justice League. But Dick would have a butt load of doubters and be crashing out from a sugar high, so he’d be disappointed but fine enough to cut the trip early; Bruce would be simultaneously grateful for the experience but also so significantly overstimulated from the trip that he’d vow never to do it again.

But then he adopts Jason. So yeah he goes back to fucking DisneyWorld again.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

I love how Brennan as a DM was all "Riz, you need more than good grades. You need to stand out. You need showstopping extracurriculars." and to Kristen he was all, "I'm going to throw the weight of an entire religion at you, make you relive your family trauma through your brother and give you relationship issues."

Yet, SOMEHOW, when Brennan introduced little miss four dogs, the driven type A rogue, and had her run for president, setting up the perfect foil for Riz's character and an amazing extracurricular for Riz to aim for in one fell swoop, THE ENTIRE PARTY WENT "KRISTEN 4 PREZ!!!! SHRIMP PARTY 2.0!!!"

Don't get me wrong, I love that Ally went for the fucking throat on vibes alone. Like, that was truly loathing at first sight and I love that for them, I really do.

BUT ALSO THAT WAS RIZ'S PLOTLINE KRISTEN. YOU HAVE LIKE THREE PLOTLINES KRISTEN. WHY ARE YOU ADDING MORE TO YOUR PLATE KRISTEN.

[rosaacicularis]

thinking about scarian in the cactus ring actually

[asexualbookbird]

Immediately forgets everything that happened in June. Uh. I threw a tea party! Finished a knit hat! Did one (1) queer corvid piece! Started playing baldurs gate! Read some good books! SAW SOME SANDHILL CRANES!!!! Found new enrichment in the form of a new walking route! A busy busy month! Didn't read as much as I intended, but I did get to check off five more books on my Reading Books I Own chart so I call that a win.

The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakranorty ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- WHAT A FUN BOOK! "Adventure" is the perfect word for this. Yes, it's a trilogy with only one book out, but this also works so well on its own, as individual books SHOULD! It's its own little thing. Wrapped up neat and tidy with little threads to pick up in the future. I had so much fun and the audiobook was a DELIGHT, I want to read it again immediately.

The Novice by Taran Matharu ⭐- This has been sitting on my shelf since its release. It moved homes with me. It will not be doing so again. Bland, generic, poorly written. Proof just because you were an internet success, doesn't mean you don't need an editor. Also proof that publishing is about Luck and Connections. I know goodreads ratings mean Nothing, but come on. Why is this one so high. Did people really enjoy it that much? HOW??

Translation State by Ann Leckie ⭐⭐⭐⭐- Okay. Look. This was not my favorite Leckie novel. In fact it very well could by me least favorite Leckie novel. HOWEVER. Even then, it was still fun and enjoyable. I wish it ended differently, but I still loved all the characters and how they interact. I do want to reread this as well, because I remember enjoying Ancillary Justice more the second time around and I wonder if the same will happen here.

What Moves The Dead by T Kingfisher ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - A reread! To get ready for What Feasts At Night! Even knowing all the secrets, it's still a perfectly bite sized creepy read. My favorite thing about Kingfishers writing is how even with the darkest subjects she still manages to add humor. And it never seems out of place! It's a great breather for the reader but doesn't detract from the tension. Do not recommend reading this while walking through a field of bunnies.

What Feasts At Night by T Kingfisher ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I gave What Moves The Dead four stars at my initial read through, so I wonder if this will ALSO change to five stars upon rereading. I had to read the first few chapters twice for them to stick, and ended up switching to the audiobook which was very well done. I really didn't expect another book about Alex Easton, but I'm hooked now to be honest. I mean, stop putting this soldier in Situations, but also. I want to know what other Situations ka gets into. Angus and Miss Potter are adorable.

The library has a few summer reading games with prizes so my reading in the upcoming months will be influenced by those. Someone said there might even be a local bookstore gift package in the mix and I Want That. I do still want to do the Bone Season updated read, if for no other reason than to get rid of those books so I don't have to pack and move them. Other than that, no reading plans. I've read nearly every book that's on the shelf in my bedroom, which, wow, so it's getting harder to choose what to read. I guess that's a good thing! Leaves more room to reread old favorites.

[tei-to-tei]

Fire Sage Raph - Rise x TOTK

Upcoming Sages: Donnie | Mikey | Leo

[awkwardtaco056]

Hello Amedot fandom my love for these two are Everlasting 🫶🏾💜💚

[batfossil-fr]

new guys are pretty cute and I think they did well with both poses but I have given up hope on FR ever doing anything cool with body plans for ancients