#tw asylum mention

[silver-heller]

Silver May Fun Facts

@prinadonna Here you go! Here are a couple of fun facts about Silver;

Silver is a transman (identifies as a man though he is in a female body) like myself.

He chose his name off of a list Mitzi and Atlas gave him. Atlas had come up with Silver based on the night Silver was rescued, fast asleep beneath the moonlight.

Silver was rescued from an asylum.

Silver was married previously before this.

Silver hates the smell of egg salad, and is not fond of the taste either.

Silver prefers floral and bitter tastes.

Silver has androphobia.

Silver is asexual and biromantic.

Though Silver refused to speak when he initially joined the Lackadaisy, he was later known to be quite playful and sharp, if not bitter about everything he had gone through.

Die Alone by Ingrid Michaelson reminds me a lot of Silver with its language usage and the song's attitude towards love.

[firedragon1321]

Finally making a Legit Post for Leo

I posted "but sire the quality" versions of him before. But here he is in all his glory.

Lore in the readmore. TW- school trauma/child abuse, asylum mention, allegories for albiesm and masking.

Leonard "Leo" Marshall

Gender- Male (He/Him)

Age- 13 (nearing 14)

Height- 4’10”

Weight- 100 lb.

In Leo's world, ten percent of people have monsters. His is an electric/fire dragon named Buddy. The monsters are a cross between Digimon and daemons from The Golden Compass, able to be "banished" (i.e.- become invisible) at the human's will. People with monsters are rounded up at a young age and sent to a special school. The school forces the students to repress their monsters to appear "normal". Oh, and the students cannot leave. This shapes a lot of Leo's personality.

Leo has an imaginative, impulsive nature that can't sit still for long. His best way of learning things is "fuck around and find out". He is clever, but not in the way the adults want him to be. He's better at finding ways to sneak out of his school/prison than paying attention in class. Class is nap/doodle time.

Leo has never met his parents. But he despises them for letting him end up in the school. His goal is to leave the school- which he calls Jail- behind. He fantasizes about impossible situations for when he leaves, like setting up shop on a desert island or making an obscene amount of money. The fantasy changes with the day.

Leo's only interaction with his parents is through letters, one (1) photograph, and a stuffed lion for when he got a fever at age 6. Parents aren't allowed to visit in person for a variety of reasons (they can have long-distance contact thought). At first, Leo was a "good boy", so he could graduate and meet his family instead of being sent to an asylum. But he lost patience as a preteen and started to rebel.

His design is part of that rebellion. Leo is not a natural redhead, and his hair does not grow in a lightning bolt shape. His real hair color of brown, bordering on black. It matches that of his parents. He doesn't want to see them in the mirror. Instead, he built his appearance around "electricity"- Buddy's main power. He tried blond/blue hair before, but didn't like them.

That's about it so far. I want to give him a friend group. But I haven't designed them yet. All I know is they all have monster buddies of their own, and none of them are primarily electric-element (to prevent overlap). I have an idea for a girl with an air-element bird, but I'm still designing her.

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Prologue

Part 1

Your mother was a beautiful kind and dangerous woman. In short. She was a Falcone. And for young Bruce, being with her was a thrill. Being Batman gave him a thrill, but your mother was a different kind of thrill.

Till she got pregnant. And the thrill was gone.

Your mother kept you of course. Counting the days till she gets to hold you in her arms. And when she finally got to hold you, to feel you close and hear your sweet little voice. The rest of the Falcone men decided that your mother wasn't ready to take care of you. So, they forced you out of her arms and sent you to Bruce.

Bruce held you once. And immediately passed you to Alfred. He was too young to become a father. (Never mind the fact he was already acting as a father to two boys)

He didn't have time to play daddy. Deep down Bruce did come to care for you over the years and attempted to try and hold you. But then Jason died, Dick distanced himself. Holding you, an innocent little thing, felt wrong.

When you were eight. You had tantrums. Night terrors. terribly scared of the dark. Thunderstorms especially. Gotham famous for its long dark nights and loud thunderstorms. Bruce, too busy with his new sidekick, Tim. Didn't have time to comfort you. No matter how heartbreaking your scrams for him were. Crying for him, so he can save you from whatever nightmare you have woken from.

But only Alfred occasionally Dick, would come and save you.

Bruce would give you toys, new dresses as a form of apology. He wouldn't give it to you directly. But have Alfred give it to you or leave it in your room when asleep. But no matter how many new toys he gives you. Those nightmares just never stopped.

Due to the neglect. Your mother was able to meet with you secretly. As years passed, she was able to steal you away when Alfred wasn't hovering around you. Take you to shop and give you whatever you wanted. Holding you in her arms and not wanting to let go.

Slowly, your mother was gaining the favor of some of the Falcones. To let her have you back. To welcome you back into the Falcone family. Once she gets the whole family to agree. She can make a case of child neglect against Bruce Wayne and take her sweet Babygirl back.

But when you were ten. Your powers began to kick in. You told Bruce, hoping your father would help you. Help you understand. Bruce, told you to keep it a secret. And to tell no one else.

Having a kid who was a meta was the last thing he needed at the moment. Trying to re-connect with Jason who still had deep hate for him instead focusing on his first-born child who was struggling to understand.

You felt like a freak.

And it wasn't long till you lost control of your powers. To keep it short. You accidently killed a few other kids with your powers. It was an accident. You swore. You see you would have just been left off. Your a kid. It was an accident. But most of all your a Wayne. But one of the kids you killed was a Falcone.

And Bruce couldn't risk you getting killed. He cared about you. Just not as much as he should. So, to avoid the wrath of the Falcone's. Bruce had to claim you were mentally ill. Sending you to Arkham. Only for a few months. That's what he said to you. That's what he promised.

You did your six months in Arkham. Six months turned to eight. Eight months turned to ten. Ten months turned to two years. Then finally, you were taken out from your cell. Lead by two prison guards. They said you had a visitor. You assumed it was another reporter. But was proven wrong when you see Bruce on the other side of the thick glass. You were shocked but happy to see your father.

"Daddy." You spoke softly as you slowly smile, putting your hand on the glass. Bruce hesitates to put his hand on the glass, once he does, he focused back to you. Your eyes stared at him with so much love and hope.

". . . Your case. . . the court decided you're, too unstable to attend court, so. . ." Bruce didn't look at you as he spoke. So, he couldn't see the smile on your face fade. Confusion taking over.

"But. . . I did my six months. . . I-I've been here for a year! Daddy, please I didn't do it on purpose!" You were on the edge of crying.

"I promise. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can." Bruce wanted to try and console you. But that was harder due to the glass between you two. He reaches out his hand to the glass once more. But the loud buzz that queued it was time for you to get back to your cell.

"Please Daddy don't let them take me!" You cried, putting both hands on the glass. You were in full despair. Bruce didn't know what to do. He can take the risk from the Falcones and get you out with a snap of his fingers. Or he can make it easy for everyone but you and wait till you serve your time.

". . . I'm sorry" Bruce can see you falling deeper and deeper into dispare.

Guards burst from the doors and had to forcefully take you away.

"No- No! Daddy please! DADDY!" Your screamed louder as the guards took you away, reaching out to Bruce who just stood there. And did nothing. As always.

Seven years later.

No one ever visited you again. Well, no one from the Waynes. But your mother visited you every week. Her visits where the only reason you kept saine.

Arkham isn't all fun and games. Obviously. You were immitted into Arkham's fucked version of rehabilitation. You started hearing things after your first month in Arkham.

. . .

You sent letters almost every day to the Wayne manor. But never got any back. None from Bruce. None from Dick. You and Tim weren't close. So, you didn't expect anything from him. Alfred prefers to call you. Wanting to hear your voice to make sure you were not lying to him when he asks of your wellbeing.

You stopped sending letters to Bruce a few months ago. Not like he'll respond anyway. You don't need Bruce. You have your mother. And she's all you'll need. She's your world now, your reason to keep living this pointless life. And once you're out, Mama promised to give you a big hug. Which you so desperately needed.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢. . . 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎?"

[silver-heller]

Art done by @floofyboi57.

That's my boy Silver, left, and one of his boyfriends Mordecai, right. Silver was saved by Atlas, having been admitted to an asylum by his ex husband for defending himself. He'd eventually become a rumrunner for the Lackadaisy right beside Mordecai and Viktor, until he was mistakenly thought to be dead in 1924.

He'd reappear in 1927, working for the Marigold for the rest of the main fic, which I don't want to spoil.

Silver is polite to outsiders, but known to be bitter and playful with a sharp tongue to those closest to him.

Self shippers rb this post and talk about/show off your s/is!! Put as many pics as you want, write a whole paragraph about them, anything! I want to see and appreciate all your lovely inserts ☺️

[no-passaran]

Hi, it's Asexuality Awareness Week and I would like to share one of the reasons why it's important to raise awareness: including asexuality in legal protection.

One of the reasons why legal protections are necessary is the case of asylum seekers. Asexual asylum seekers, who are endangered in their home country, are routinely not accepted as asylum seekers because the legislation protects LGBT people but doesn't include asexuality in the acronym.

Let's see a couple of examples:

In 2018, an Algerian man applied for asylum in the Netherlands, explaining that he feared being persecuted in his country of origin for being asexual and for refusing to marry his niece.

The Netherlands, a country that accepts LGBTI asylum seekers, did not accept this man's asylum request because asexuality is not mentioned as being in the LGBTI. The court also said that asexuality is not punishable in Algeria. But not being legally called by its name and explicitly punished does not mean asexual people don't face discrimination, forced marriages, and threats of violence and rape. (Marriage itself, by the laws in most of the world, must include "consummation", whether the people involved want to or not).

This is the case of a 26-year-old woman living in Senegal, using the pseudonym Jade. Her family, across the border in Guinea, demanded that she find a man to marry. Her sister told her that if she didn’t, their parents would force her to wed a man who would rape her.

In Guinea and Senegal, forced marriages are common – the same sister who threatened Jade was in one herself. Divorce is also heavily stigmatised – when one of Jade’s cousins told her abusive husband she wanted a divorce, he said he would shoot her, her mother and himself.

Jade is a sex-repulsed asexual woman. She feared being married to someone she didn’t love and being subjected to so-called “corrective rape” until she bore children.

She considered suicide.

Her mother suggested sending her to therapy to fix her "aversion to marriage", when Jade refused, the mother said she'd "fix" her herself. She had Jade lay on the floor while she put her hand on her chest and prayed over her, asking afterwards whether she felt any different.

For a while, Jade’s last resort was escaping West Africa permanently. After she began studying in the US, it became her first choice. When researching what her options were, she found the case from the Netherlands that we've talked about before this one. She also found that legislations that aim to protect LGBTQI around the world don't include asexuality.

At present, the only piece of legislation which explicitly mentions asexuality is New York’s Sexual Orientation Non-Discrimination Act of 2003. However, that didn’t help Jade. A New York lawyer told Jade that there was no information as to whether asexuality was grounds for asylum in the US. After a long process of trying in the USA, she couldn't make it but after a year and a half she found an opportunity to do an internship in Ireland, where she lives now.

Since leaving West Africa, Jade has learned that her parents had chosen a husband for her without her knowledge, not long before she managed to escape. She says that, had she not been able to escape, she wouldn't be alive today.

This is what people mean when they say "asexuals aren't LGBTI!", "We can't have asexuals stealing our resources!". These are the kind of resources they mean: the ones that could save the life of a person being discriminated against for not being heterosexual heteroromantic and not conforming to the normative ideas of what their love and sex life should be like. An issue that is deeply shared with the rest of the LGBTQIA+ community.

[cozyqueerchaos]

i'm sure this is old news but im hyperfocusing so hard on the worldbuilding here that i wanna talk about it anyway-

so, if i'm reading the lore here correctly, the initial meteor hit caused the development of psychic abilities in humans, but also, caused the NEED for psychics (as opposed to, like, therapists) as the meteor's fallout increased the development of mental illness in the population to such a wild degree. (not exactly sure in what way it increased it, but that does seem to be the implication here)

which could explain why people in these games can have breakdowns over such seemingly odd things (looking at you fred), as well as the blasé approach that everyone has to mental illness and dysfunctional mental processes

(^ obligatory sasha screenshot)

that difference in their societal development is also probably why raz (and all the kids, really) can witness and say shit like this without flinching:

[thygoddessouijathicc]

Ok ok I’ve probably posted too much on this today however…

Major spoilers for Ugly oh yeah also warnings for discussion of dark themes and suicide.

So I was looking at the achievements for the game and I noticed a few things. First of all that almost all of the achievements names are statements most being presumably said by Scorpion or about him for example “I will make you a REAL prince.” “Not my son!” And the ever classic “Put on the mask!” “PUT ON THE MASK!” “PUT ON THE F******* MASK!”

Some seem not to be said by Scorpion but if put in the correct context probably are. “Hot dog” is a cruel fucking joke but I mean it’s not an… incorrect statement… (Scorpion I hate you). “Waiting for my prince.” Makes total sense in context and taking it as being said by Scorpion makes it kinda horrible because he says prince and not son or child or whatever because he only sees Butterfly as an heir and a continuation of himself rather than a child.

But one thing particularly stands out to me and it’s how the major story beat achievements progress. The first major story beat is the bandaged, its achievement is “Can’t be real”. Next is the covered “Painful image”. Then you get the mirror monster which gets way more interesting with “THIS IS NOT ME!”. Then the lock thing “I need to hide myself.”. Then the poisoned is next. Not sure why I remember that one’s name and not the last two but eh… it’s achievement is “Who am I?”. Finally we get to the mirror shard itself with the definitive statement “I’M UGLY!” And the fire boss “This is not me.”

Looking at these statements my interpretation is that these are all after the fire and are Scorpion’s thoughts at the time. They seem to portray largely denial but something a bit deeper in the character’s psyche. Scorpion doesn’t know who he is without his looks and finds the mere idea that they are bad to be painful. He can’t let himself be seen if he is ugly just like he couldn’t let his ugly son be seen, who we have established by now he sees as an extension of himself and not a child. He rejects his son being ugly with statements like “not my son” the same way he says things like “this is not me”. Because no part of him can be ugly that’s not possible he can’t reconcile that idea.

Going beyond this Scorpion seems to think his deformity is way worse than it is. When we see him in the ending of the game we will notice yeah he’s kinda let himself go maybe a little and he has what? One scar? I don’t think he was ever actually burned in the first place at least not that badly because we have seen Butterfly who is confirmed to have been burned and his scar is definitely much much worse. It’s likely if Scorpion was ever burned at all he has made a full recovery but again I doubt he ever was. It’s not that he’s actually become ugly it’s that he sees it that way because to Scorpion him having a small scar is just as bad as being hideously deformed or whatnot. Scorpion was never ugly he never needed to “hide himself” but he thought he was ugly and he thought he did because that’s how he responds to any ugly thing apparently. We spend the whole half of the game thinking this guy has been burned beyond recognition but no… he just has a cut on his face. But that’s enough for him.

Also side note I headcanon the thing that cut his face to be the mirror shard seen throughout the game. He was literally cut by his own reflection.

Continuing to the second half of the game the achievements get… different. They seem to be, unlike earlier ones, present thoughts mixed with past ones. Especially the items. “I deserve everything” “top secret” “play it again” “this is my son.” “You asked for it” (about that last one, that’s said about Spider’s eyepatch so… fuck you Scorpion, damn) “Are you beautiful?” “Crime and punishment” “precious collar.” “You have ruined it” “where is my heir?” And “dangerous spider”. These thoughts don’t seem exactly regretful of his actions though some can be read as regretful of his own situation. We get from this a few things.

One, he didn’t like his wife that’s for damn sure. And with the idea that he was a prince I kinda question if perhaps it was an arranged marriage which would explain it being so loveless seemingly from the start… though that doesn’t excuse his actions at fucking all. Still fuck you Scorpion.

As for what else is there… “I deserve everything” is a very weighted statement at this point in the game so is “are you beautiful” especially being said about one of Butterfly’s belongings because it does feel like he’s actually asking if his son was beautiful all along (even if in his own way) and possibly even “where is my heir” can be seen as weighted though that one can be seen as a memory given it is a rattle but it can also be him asking now that he’s alone where is his heir he wanted so badly to be perfect. Precious collar is also questionable because that’s the dogs collar. The one he killed. “This is my son” is one I’m very unsure of because it’s the wine glass from when his son wore the mask though it does imply he actually did present Butterfly as his son… when Butterfly was masked of course. It sounds almost proud maybe and part of me doesn’t doubt that it might actually be proud. But only proud when Butterfly can’t be seen and functions properly as an accessory to make Scorpion look good.

Finally there is the noose “the rope is the key”… self explanatory. It’s the key. We have been finding keys this whole game and this is the only one that leads out. Whether or not Scorpion actually regrets any of his actions it’s clear how he feels about his situation. We know from the final sequence if he wanted to he could just leave. He’s hardly trapped in a way that will actually stop him from leaving. Especially given he locked all the doors to be hidden meaning he probably does have access to the outside.

His death could be seen as an accident he seems to behave maybe like it was but also he definitely put the rope over the scaffolding he knows will collapse then got up there. And he also if we are in fact reading achievements as his words, just called the rope the key. So I’m going to go out on a limb and say he definitely meant to do that. We can also see in that final scene he’s actually seeing himself properly now so it can be well confirmed that he probably isn’t killing himself for being ugly… on the outside.

The noose is the only key for Scorpion to leave not because he physically can’t leave but because even if he did leave he can’t change anything about his situation and the things he’s done and he’s ugly inside, which is where it really matters. Suicide is a complicated topic and while I don’t particularly like Scorpion as a person he was pretty awful let’s be real here, I do feel like his suicide is still somewhat sad because in a sense… well in a few… he was at the end of his rope at this point and had nothing left. He realized the error of his ways finally seemingly but he also realized that it doesn’t matter. He can’t unkill his wife or kids or dog, or unburn his son’s face. Not to mention even if he wanted to go back to living how he used to it’s implied he’s been gone awhile and with that fire he caused everyone either thinks he’s dead or crazy or both. And maybe his peers are after all just as shallow as he is or was or whatever you think at this point in the game. And would actually think he’s hideous for having a small scar.

There really wasn’t anything Scorpion could have done in this situation but die. He created this mess do not get me wrong here he is at fault for all of this and while from the context of him being a prince I do think he may in fact be a product of his situation given the perfectionist mentality and deep insecurity and narcissistic tendencies could well have been intentionally fostered I mean he does lead a religion for fucks sake and who knows that shit could have been going on since he was like 9 which absolutely would destroy his ability to have a proper childhood development, we have nothing to go by on account of his own upbringing other than that he is in fact a royal. He’s not referred to as a king so maybe that’s something and implies he probably has siblings older than him. But really for all we know he’s just kinda like this? No reason no horrible upbringing that fostered narcissism to a clinical degree so bad it causes him to seeming panic at imperfection and try to cover it up, honestly he could just have woken up one day and chosen child abuse. We know very little about this guy he literally isn’t even named we just call him Scorpion. And again even if he did have a past to explain his actions they’re still on him and I still like to watch him faceplanting into glass.

But as much as I do blame him for everything that happened he is literally an abuser I still do take suicide seriously and respect that Scorpion killing himself was really the only thing he could have done in his situation (I say all this because I have seen people call it him wimping out and fucking hell I don’t vibe with calling suicide an easy way out no matter what the character has done). Sure maybe turn himself into the police (which wouldn’t he need evidence and statute of limitations and trial and shit?) or an asylum and live out the rest of his days imprisoned and for the latter case depending on the time period, lobotomized. Yeah it’s not like that was really an option even if he’d done terrible things and was now aware of the extent of that I don’t see anyone deciding they want to spend the rest of their life in a padded cell. There’s also a chance he may have been shipped off to an asylum if anyone found him because he did randomly go up to a mirror and throw a candle at it, presumably causing a fire that killed people, then disappear for years. It’s like he chose between death and slower and possibly more unpleasant and humiliating death.

Also beyond just the actual consequences of staying alive with statements like “I deserve everything” it seems like his psyche is also taking a serious beating. And yes Scorpion you do deserve this your son SHOULD by all means be no contact with your narcissistic arse. The flesh pits taunt you. But yeah yeah back to the point… I also interpret the flesh levels as being all in his head so his mind seems to be falling apart whether from guilt or isolation or what but Scorpion isn’t mentally stable at this moment in time. Honestly I debate if he ever was and if hallucinations like this are actually new but again we don’t know much about this guy. Though the mirror stuff probably also isn’t real unless maybe it is because the poison spiritually fucked him up??? Whatever the case may be I don’t think Scorpion finds himself beautiful at the end of the story and I don’t mean physically I mean it feels like he understands that he’s ugly where it matters and that’s inside and that his actions were disgusted and disgraceful. So I think the choice to… do that… wasn’t entirely to avoid consequence so much as it was “there’s nothing left for me and I’m a monster and the world is better off without me” which is kinda heavy shit right there.

At the end of the day Scorpion is a character with almost no dialogue save from what I affectionately call “random Scorpion noises” (which mostly consist of waking up panting and laughter in memories and smooching noises) so we don’t really understand his actual feelings towards his situation aside from in the ending song where he takes the stance everyone else takes and pretty much goes “yeah I kinda suck lmao” but I find him interesting to analyze since we know so little yet so much about him? We know he’s a prince, we know what he’s done, but as a person we know very very little.

My take is that Scorpion was probably the younger of a few princes and raised into his narcissistic tendencies and perfectionism to look good in court, because to me that makes the most sense to explain why he’s like this. He’s definitely not crown prince and to me even his *age* is up to debate because we have no idea of the time period as far as I know it could be modern it could be medieval. And he kinda looks pretty young let’s be real even at the end of the game with a full adult son who also seems to have a child he looks maybe late 20s early to mid 30s? I have no evidence for this but I’m not convinced he was a legal adult in some of the early on the timeline memories. Because no way this guy is a grandfather without a single wrinkle or grey hair if we are saying he was minimum 18 when he had his son because his son is in this case minimum also 20-30 something depending on how old you think the child is putting him at like 50-60. I also feel that his reoccurring desire to specifically *hide* anything imperfect is of note.

Oh yeah I also think spider is from elsewhere. I think she’s from a different kingdom and that the marriage was both arranged and political. Because for one that’s what you do with princesses and non crown princes you use them for political advantage. For two the Spider wing has a very unique aesthetic that feels kidna like it’s maybe reminiscent of an entirely different kingdom’s aesthetic given it’s all light glass where everywhere else is for lack of a better term… heavy

But these are only headcanons because we must remember… we don’t know their goddamn NAMES. Though I think it would be really funny if Scorpion, Spider, and Butterfly were in fact actually their names. Goddamn arthropods.

So anyway all I wanted to say was some stuff about achievements and it turned into Ouija going character analysis crazy

[silver-heller]

Sure thing! Silver May was taken in by Atlas and Mitzi May, saved from an asylum which he was sent to by his ex husband. The experience left him skittish and, even when the Mays managed to become closer to Silver and convince him to work at the Lackadaisy, Silver refuses to actually speak to anyone. He ended up working with Mordecai and Viktor, underestimated at first but soon showing himself to be terrifying with his daggers and natural claws.

Not much is known about Silver's past before that point, besides the fact he's always lived around St. Louis, he used to have a more feminine name, and he was accused of attempting to murder his husband. As Atlas' son of sorts, he was known to be rebellious and unafraid to stand up to Atlas.

GIMME YOUR OC LORE I WANNA MIX THEM WITH MINE 👹

[the-entity-down-the-street]

Stop using neurodivergent just to refer to ADHD/autistic people

Brought you by someone with autism!

I have a story from my recent wedding I'd like to share.

The ceremony and reception were held at The Ridges, an old mental asylum turned art museum in Athens, OH. I made a point of giving a brief history of the property to our guests, acknowledging the cruel treatment mental patients have faced at the facility, and honoring their humanity. I didn't want the venue for shock value, especially considering that our wedding party was made up almost entirely of mentally ill queer people.

During the reception I was talking to my spouse's grandmother, who had performed our ceremony, and learned that she herself had been locked up in an asylum! She was thankful for my little intro, and when I offered my condolences for her traumatic experience, she expressed how her mental struggles were a part of who she was. In fact, she said: "I wish there was a word to describe it other than mentally ill."

I told her there was a word! Neurodivergent!

And let me tell you, the way this little 89-year-old woman lit up.

"Neurodivergent! I love that!"

What a gift that is. What a gift it is to be able to give someone language to describe themselves. Just because she's not autistic or ADHD, it doesn't mean she hasn't faced adversity for the way her head works. I think she has every right to call herself neurodivergent, and I think we'd do well to accept all mental differences into our community.

[fcdcdmcmories]

HE HAD GROWN TO CARE FOR MARK HOFFMAN ALREADY. was it because he knew what he was doing? it seemed so and.. no, he didn't think that would be changing. it seemed like kicking angie garza out of a job that she was doing nothing good with had been the right call and.. yes, perhaps hoffman and will graham could turn this police station around and make it something that people could rely on. and so, when captain hoffman had called him, phineas had almost been confused at his expression. "my boy, you don't look all that good. is this because of agent graham's appointment? i simply thought that the two of you would make a good team," he sat down, glancing at the other. he had barely begun to process what mark had told him, but.. "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME HERE FOR? IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?" somehow, he had a feeling it was not. // @xtinyslip

[little-peril-stories]

The Queen of Lies: Her Speech is Nothing

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contains: outdated/problematic/ableist language, icky gender and power dynamics, asylum, death mention, lady whump, betrayal, generally uncomfortable medical setting, statements by the antagonist that allude to sexual assault and fall into both ableism and victim-blaming

Please heed the warnings!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 3000 || Approx reading time: 12 mins

Her Speech is Nothing

Teaser: After the darkness of the carriage, it was bright outside despite the lack of sun and the still-falling drizzle, and Bree blinked as her eyes adjusted. Something twisted in her stomach when she realized they were not where she expected. “Where are we?”

Baden spoke quietly to Dr. Gysborne, and Bree didn’t listen.

He brought her back outside, and she let him.

He did not tell her where they were going when he helped her into a carriage, and she didn’t care.

What difference did it make, anyway? She knew where they were going. He would take her back to the house, and she’d be his pretty possession once again, and unless she could find another way out, everything she’d done to escape her fate as Baden Hatchett’s wife would mean absolutely nothing.

The city rolled past, grim and soaked with rain. In a motion stiff and hurried, Baden tugged the curtains closed, concealing the world outside behind a bulwark of maroon velvet. With nothing to look at, Bree leaned against the wall and pretended to sleep. The minutes dragged on, poisoning every thought with guilt and sorrow.

She tried not to think of Jamie, who had to be cursing her very name—she, the silly girl he’d worked for so many years ago, grown into the silly woman who’d ruined his life and his brother’s. And Colette and Geoff? They must be cursing her, too, especially Geoff, for she’d seen the way he and Jamie looked at each other, the way their hands entwined whenever they were at rest.

It took all her self-control not to open her eyes and peer down at her own empty hands and think of the fingers that should have been laced with hers.

No matter how she tried, she could not banish Will from her thoughts.

Will, and how he must be hurting. How he must resent her, too.

“All right, Breanna. Let’s go.”

She opened her eyes. The carriage had stopped, and Baden was holding out his hand.

With no other choice, she accepted it.

After the darkness of the carriage, it was bright outside despite the lack of sun and the still-falling drizzle, and Bree blinked as her eyes adjusted. Something twisted in her stomach when she realized they were not where she expected. “Where are we?”

It seemed for several long moments that Baden would not answer.

“We’re at the hospital,” he said, pulling her forward. “Were you not listening? Gysborne suggested I take you to another doctor. To ensure you’re well enough to…” He paused. “Return.”

“I feel fine,” she said, although it was perhaps the most blatant lie she had ever told. “I want to go back. I only want to rest. I want to go home.”

Home. Bree felt sick. Home was not that cold and draughty manor with its locked windows and doors. Home could not be found in a four-poster bed shared with a man who didn’t want to be there, either.

Home was a tiny townhouse with thin, warped windows and uneven floors. Home was sunlight streaming through too-old curtains and mingling with the earthy-scented steam of freshly brewed tea. Home was a warm hand in hers, worn books with the pages falling out, generous laughter, and happiness like she had never known before.

Home was Will.

But, she tried to comfort herself, the sooner she made it back to the house she’d once called “home,” the sooner she might make it back out.

“I am concerned, and I want you to be well,” said Baden, his fingers crawling to her upper arm. “Come along.”

The hospital was almost pleasing to look at, rather like a house: a sprawling manor with glass windows and lovely, old trees dotting its grounds, tendrils of ivy swirling up the red-brick walls. On a sunny day, in the brilliance of summer, it might have looked homely. Welcoming.

Today, in the autumn gloom, it seemed to Bree like the nightmarish, haunted building of a Gothic novel; there was something insidious about the dim light, the choking ivy, the dead leaves scattered on the ground, the bare branches scraping at the air. Something about the shadows and the rain created the impression of bars over the windows—almost as if they had not left the prison at all.

“Good afternoon, doctor.” With a curt nod, Baden greeted the man waiting for them. Behind him, in the doorway, stood a nurse in a stiff white cap.

“Where are we? Which hospital?” she pressed. A sensation like thousands of tiny legs crawling over the back of her neck made her shiver with unease. “Baden, tell me, please—”

“Thank you for being so accommodating,” Baden said to the gentleman, shaking her into silence, “on such short notice. I would like you to examine my wife, Mrs. Hatchett. I have an initial report from Dr. Bernard Gysborne.”

Now there were two of them: the older doctor with cold blue eyes and a red beard peppered with silver, and a younger one with dark hair and a pale complexion. He was silent, watching Bree with a mixture of wariness and pity.

“Of course, Constable Hatchett,” said the older doctor. “I’m Dr. Richards. Please, come inside, out of the rain.”

“Baden,” Bree said, her heart pounding, although she did not know why it protested so, “I want to go home. Please. Now.”

But Baden said, “Once I am convinced of your good health, Breanna.”

“I’m not hurt,” she said, pulling away from the door. “You heard what Dr. Gysborne said. The cut is healing. Please. Let’s go.”

He jolted her forward with an impatient sigh. “Come along.” As they crossed the threshold, the wind began to howl outside, and the rain began to fall in a violent barrage once again. “This is for your own good.”

So he said, yet this examination seemed much the same as Gysborne’s. In a bleakly lit room lined with dusty wooden panels, the younger doctor, whose name Bree had missed, checked her breathing, her heartbeat, her eyesight, and her healing arm, while Dr. Richards asked a series of irritating questions that all had obvious answers—her name, her age, what had happened to her. It seemed to Bree he might have known if he’d simply read Mr. Gysborne’s report. There were a few others, though, that puzzled her: And what is your husband’s name? Where do you live? In what country do we live? What year is it?

“I’ve already been through this,” she said when her patience was wearing thin. By the desk, the doctors spoke quietly to the nurse. She could not hear what they said. “Baden, just show them Dr. Gysborne’s report. He already did these tests. Please, I’m—I’m so tired—I just—”

A crackle of paper had her lifting her head in surprise. Baden had listened; he had done as she said. For once, he had obeyed her.

Dr. Richards scanned the report with a frown.

“This seems insufficient evidence,” said the dark-haired doctor, peering over the elder one’s shoulder. “One prison medical officer’s quick assessment hardly seems adequate reason to—”

“You don’t understand,” said Baden harshly. “It’s much more than what is written here. You want evidence? You shall have plenty.” When he looked at Bree, she quailed again, her mouth going dry when she beheld the grey fire in his eyes. “Ask anyone who has witnessed her behaviour these recent weeks. Even before she was abducted. She forged my signature to join some silly women’s society—yet never once mentioned it to me, never even asked. She repeatedly, illicitly entered the prison under false pretences to visit a known criminal with whom, as far as any of us know, she had never had any contact before. And not just to visit him, but to enter his cell and care for him like she fancied herself some sort of nurse. She was caught, of course, and could not give a single good reason for why she did it.”

“Baden,” Bree whispered, a dreadful sense of cold settling over her body. “Why are you telling them all—”

“The housekeeper reported she wasn’t sleeping and was speaking and behaving strangely. She sent a letter filled with sheer nonsense to one of her friends, feigning a need to prepare for a visit from some fictitious cousin. She lied to me and my superior. She stole a set of keys from a constable. And she helped that blasted criminal escape.”

Dr. Richards gaped at Bree in horror, while the younger doctor’s face turned a brilliant shade of red.

“She was seen in men’s clothing, gallivanting around town and fleeing from those who tried to help her, and when we found her again today—just look at this!” He took hold of her arms and wrenched them both upwards, displaying the cut and the Iustitia aecum emblem.

Bree tried to jerk out of his grasp, to no avail. “Baden, what—”

“And this!” Releasing her arms, he forcibly tilted her chin up to expose the bruise, that scarlet letter on her neck that she should have known would spell her doom—the evidence of her infidelity, illuminated for these two strange men who now would not take their eyes off her.

Mortified, Bree jerked from his grasp and leapt to her feet.

But Baden was quick and strong as he always was; he apprehended her easily. As the nurse darted to block the door, Bree cried out, struggling to fight Baden’s grip while he held her still. No one else seemed to realize that Baden was clenching her tightly enough to hurt.

“Does any of that,” Baden snarled, his grip constricting even more as he pointed at the bruise on her throat, “sound like the behaviour of a sane person? Would a woman in her right mind let such a beast defile her in this way?”

Bree’s vision went, for an instant, pitch-black.

“It is clear to me,” Baden said, letting go only long enough to spin her around and force her to face him, “that you are very ill, Breanna, and I cannot help you through whatever hysteria you are presently suffering through.”

“Hysteria?” she repeated, as black spots threatened to eat away at her consciousness again.

“The lies. The sneaking around. The forged signature. Running away. The marks that bastard left on you.” Without warning, he let go. “Everyone agrees that you have been out of sorts. Officer Lenton. Mrs. Dennison. Your friends, even the silly one married to the soldier who tried to cover for you—even she was swayed in the end. It cannot be denied that you are unwell. And dangerously so.”

“Dangerously so…” she echoed. “What are you saying, Baden?”

“I am saying…” he began, his voice tight. No emotion leaked through now; he’d locked it away behind its usual frigid barricade. “I’m saying that you need help that I cannot provide, but I cannot trust you in our home, nor can I, despite all you’ve done, have my wife as an inmate in my prison.” He swallowed, every muscle rigid, his throat bobbing. “You have left me no choice.”

It sank in.

“No, Baden, please don’t do this.” Bree’s eyes finally took in what was all around her, what she had missed because she hadn’t been paying attention: boxes and papers stamped with three letters: G.I.A.

She looked frantically around again, seeking the answer.

Greyhurst Insane Asylum.

“You can’t leave me here!” she gasped.

“I can, and I will.” He shook his head. “You expect me to leave you in our house unsupervised? What will you do next? What will I come home to? A pile of ash and rubble? A corpse? A gang of thieves planning their next heist in my sitting room? No. I can’t. You’ve humiliated me, and perhaps you did not know what you were doing. In fact, I’m quite certain you did not. But all trust between us is gone.”

“Don’t,” she begged. “I’m not—I’m not mad.”

“Then explain yourself!”

Bree shook him off, and when, to her surprise, he let go, she backed away. “You’re just going to lock me away? I’m your wife! And I’m perfectly sane! How could you?”

“Do you see this?” Hatchett said, gesturing furiously as she tried to run, only to find herself immediately detained in the arms of the younger doctor. “Do you hear this? How she denies her mental infirmity? How she defies me at every turn? My wife has completely lost her senses.”

“You can’t do this to me!” she gasped, trying to wrench herself free of the doctor. “I’m—not—I’m not—ill!”

“The injury,” Baden said, pointing at her arm. “She did that to herself.”

Time seemed to freeze.

No. No. He couldn’t be saying that—couldn’t be using her own lie against her.

“Perhaps a straitjacket would be best?” Dr. Richards mused, utterly calm while Bree’s world crumbled around her. He rummaged in his leather bag for something Bree couldn’t see. “If she’s a danger to herself? Nurse Dugford, if you please—”

A straitjacket. One of those—god, one of those wicked contraptions they made poor, unfortunate folks wear that bound their arms—

“No!”

Bree’s shriek sliced through the air. Even Baden took a step back upon hearing the terror in her voice.

“I lied,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t cut my arm.”

Baden watched her, face impassive.

“He did it to me,” she choked, letting her limbs end their struggles, letting her body surrender alongside her resolve. As she gave her husband the story he wanted to hear. The only one he would believe. “It was him. He hurt me.”

“I knew it,” Baden breathed. His eyes flashed. “Why did you lie? Why do you insist on protecting him? After all he’s done?” He took a step toward her again. “What is he to you?”

Bree began to sob. How could he ask her that? For words she could not say, for an answer she could not give?

Her legs gave out beneath her, forcing the young doctor to cautiously release her. “Nothing,” she said. The word hurt. “He’s nothing to me. I was just afraid.”

Baden flung his hands into the air. “Nothing she says makes a whit of sense. This is the third story she’s given today to explain the cut. First, it was a pair of strange boys. Then she cut her own arm. Now, she didn’t.” His breath, too, was rapid. “He means nothing to her, but she lies and lies, all to save his sorry soul from the gallows.”

Gallows.

The gallows.

“The—what?”

But Baden ignored her, as if he hadn’t shattered her completely with that single word. But it was wrong—that word was wrong. What would Will’s sentence have been if she hadn’t helped him escape? Labour. Prison. Some other miserable, drawn-out fate.

Execution was never supposed to be the end of his story. Never.

What did he do to you?

He made good on his threats, didn’t he?

Would a woman in her right mind let such a beast defile her in this way?

No matter what she said, no matter what she did, Baden would only believe that Will had taken her by force in every sense of the word. And that was a crime a man like Baden Hatchett would never let slide. Not against his property.

A crime for which Will was now sentenced to pay the ultimate price.

You did this. A smug, sneering voice sang out from the recesses of her psyche, vindicated in every accusation that had hovered half-hidden in her thoughts from the first time she and Will kissed. No, even before. Long before—but she had buried them deep. You couldn’t stay away. You couldn’t keep your ridiculous whims to yourself. Couldn’t keep your legs closed. Couldn’t help yourself, and for what? Now, once Baden gets his hands on him, he’s dead.

Dead.

“You can’t do this!” Each word burst forth as if it might rend a hole in her very chest. “You can’t. He didn’t—he wasn’t—and I’m—Baden, please, you must listen, I’m not mad, and—and you can’t—you can’t—”

Will, dead, for being a thief. For stealing her away, for hurting her, for committing other atrocious crimes Bree knew he would never, never even think of.

And she, locked up for her lies.

“You will find,” said Baden coldly, “that everything which has transpired today is well within my rights under the law.” He pointed toward the paper still clutched in Dr. Richards’ hand. “Two signatures, superintendent approval, and reasonable evidence to make a charge.” His gaze grew even colder. “Entirely lawful, as a constable and as your husband. And so you will remain here at Greyhurst until you are deemed ready to be in society again.”

“But you can’t,” she said. “I’m not insane. I’m not.”

Will, dead, for daring to look at Constable’s Hatchett’s wife. For being the only person Bree had ever seen stand up to her husband.

She, locked up for loving him from the very start.

Baden said, “Yes, you are. But you will get better. In time.”

Will was dead, and she was the one who had killed him.

Like an arrow nocked and fired, her last and most abhorrent lie had sealed his fate.

Now, Baden would lock her away, hide her treachery, infidelity, and insanity from the world, so she could never, ever make it right.

Bree could only watch in horror as Dr. Richards, who was no mere doctor but the superintendent of the asylum, signed his name alongside Gysborne’s. As he beckoned the dark-haired doctor to do the same. As Baden took the pen and added his own signature, then wrote a final name that belonged to none of them. When Dr. Richards read the document out loud, Bree found she could not move a single muscle, even as her mind screamed and screamed and screamed.

“We, B. Gysborne and A.A. Dale, certified medical doctors, attest that we are graduates and practitioners of medicine; that at the request and in the presence of Medical Superintendent G. A. Richards, we have carefully examined Breanna Hatchett in reference to the charge of insanity made by Constable B. Hatchett and find that she is insane, and by reason of said insanity should be confined forthwith to a medical facility until it is determined that her mental infirmity has been cured.”

End note: If you are very uncomfortable with the asylum/mental health setting: Ch. 27 is from Will's POV so it's only discussed/mentioned, and the last chapter taking place there will be Ch. 29, although it will be mentioned pretty regularly after that.

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[silver-heller]

pls, tell me everything about mordecai, your s/i, and your selfship with him!! I know next to nothing about mordecai so I would love to be enlightened hehe :) (@raylex)

And you shall, you shall *insert evil laugh here*. This got very long and I apologize in advance lol.

Mordecai's background

(keep in mind some of this was changed for the AU);

Mordecai is the son of German Jewish immigrants. He had three sisters, one which died as a baby due to the poor ventilation, two that lived, Esther (older sister) and Rose (younger sister). His father died when Mordecai was too young to remember him. He was particularly close to Rose as, due to poverty and other such struggles, his mother was almost always working and Mordecai was left to look after his sisters. Mordecai entered the work force himself at the young age of thirteen, soon getting swept into a gambling rink for the funds (and his skills with math), where he was physically abused and mistreated. This influence, and his mother being forced to hold back her grief to continue to work is part of what lead to his suppressed personality. Although, Mordecai was always quite asocial and struggled to fit in with those his age.

However, after stealing funds from said rink to help his family, at the age of seventeen, Mordecai was forced to take a get away train away from New York to try to save his own life. Unfortunately, they followed him on the train, and Mordecai thought his life was over. However, that is when he met his mentor, Atlas, who left him a gun to save himself, testing Mordecai's potential. Mordecai survived, and traveled with Atlas for many years, his strange and vivid dreams starting back then. Eventually, as an adult, working for Atlas' Speakeasy, The Lackadaisy, feeling he was simply destined for that illegal life. It was ultimately Atlas, a very hard to read, and savvy opportunist that created Mordecai's current personality of being cold, rigid, and addicted to the ideas of always been sharp/calculated and presentable.

Mordecai Now

Throughout the AU, Mordecai eventually perfects his formal and heartless persona. When he first meets Viktor, there are still hints of the skittish, shy, and paranoid teen Atlas picked up back in New York. Mordecai does not hide the fact he finds Viktor intimidating;

...Viktor did not miss the way Mordecai eyed his hulking form, snout pulling down as Viktor easily towered above him. Mordecai’s ear was twitching about a mile a minute, something Viktor would grow accustomed to... - It's A Short Drive

Viktor also knows Mordecai to be quite "fussy" about his particulars, often calling Mordecai either that or "prissy" in a loving/joking manner. While this is still the case, which can make him come off as goofy or sensitive at times, Mordecai slowly gets better at convincing others there is a good/professional reason for it. This can cause him to be very intimidating, as others mistake him as an individual that would root out all their flaws and harshly criticize them for it.

But, by the time Mordecai officially meets Silver, he comes off as an extremely hard to read and menacing presence, successfully covering most of his empathy and coming off as cool and uncaring in most circumstances.

However, Mordecai's struggles when it comes to socializing with others, along with his continued paranoia and grief, are ultimately what makes his not so perfect persona crack. Because, at his heart, Mordecai is not a bully and, as someone who was probably the target of bullying in the past, never would be. Outside of work, and the unfortunate fate his targets face as Atlas' past, and now the Marigold's, triggerman (though, for the former, it was always for a reason), he never intends to hurt anyone by being distant, he just desires his space. Due to Atlas' mentorship, he grew to see showing his emotions as a weakness and risk he could not afford taking. His tendency to also take things quite literally at times can make him struggle to understand other's intent.

So, he feels quite guilty when others mistaken his to the point responses or general lack of emotiveness as unnecessary meanness or him judging them. In truth, he does not have the energy or the social interest to judge most strangers (unless they're breaking the symmetry he loves so much lol).

Silver's Background

Silver, or "Silvia", is part of the wealthy and upper-class Argenis family. His mother, Olivia, and distant father, Adrian, tried to raise Silver to be the perfect woman (and wife, in extension), planning to marry Silver off to another wealthy family, the Tiacuses, to continue their good relationship with them. Silver's grandmother, however, Gloria, had other plans.

She was the perfect grandmother on the surface, sweet, kind, and unsuspecting, but an intimidating and well known gambler underneath. She taught Silver everything he knows, including his proficiency with daggers and other such tools, how to be two-faced/act innocent in order not to be suspected, and was one of the few people that knew of Silver's true identity, happily calling Silver her grandson. Yet, despite how much she seemed to care about Silver and wanted him to know how to defend himself/be independent, Silver suspects Gloria was only close to him to get back at Olivia, Gloria's daughter, who she deemed to be too focused on social status. Yet, it was Gloria that ultimately taught Olivia to be so cold in the first place, keen to teach Gloria's influence out of Silver.

From the start, Silver's relationship with men was already on the rocks. He suspected for a long time that Gloria was the one that killed his grandfather, due to the two already arguing. Adrian, Olivia's husband, grew to be a rather terrified and distant man due to Gloria's "teasing". Silver was also often bullied by boys his age for being "naive" and "spoiled", due to being known to cry out of embarrassment when he didn't get his way when he was younger.

Silver being married to Valentin, the Tiacus oldest son and a rather manipulative and abusive man, did not help. Silver was with him for two years, before Silver scratching Valentin's face in self defense led to Silver being instituted in an asylum, deemed as mad due to the influence of his grandmother for most of his life.

It was ultimately Atlas that saved Silver, visiting him in the asylum because Valentin' story intrigued him. Atlas could tell Silver was not only the victim, but had quite a bit of spunk to him, and so, offered to free him, taking Silver in almost as if Silver were his own son. When Atlas found Silver in the asylum, he was put in a straight jacket and muzzle, being known by the workers as "misses bitesaton" (First Days ch 2). Mitzi and Atlas helped Silver find the name "Silver", and gave her a room at The Little Daisy, the café just above the Lackadaisy speakeasy, located within the limestone caves of St. Louis.

Silver Now

Silver was often deemed as "tragedy itself" by Atlas, due to his harsh and bitter demeaner. Though he tends to hide this underneath his skittishness and shyness, this is simply an act to try to prevent himself from being harmed. Over the years, this is replaced by a more cold and stern demeaner, attempting to scare away potential threats and conceal his true fear in certain scenarios.

Originally, Silver would speak to no one, and locked himself in his room before being hired by Atlas. Now, he either keeps up his front or is rather quiet around others. When it comes to potential threats, he is sharp and occasionally sarcastic to try not to appear threatened. Having a deep seated fear of men, Silver will immediately go into his territory if any men he does not know attempt to approach him.

However, Silver is a people pleasure at heart, trying not to cause undo distress to innocent others and being quite soft, teasing, and giving to his loved ones. Although, he is still not afraid to put them in their place when they're being stupid or overly egotistical. This is something Atlas often overlooked (but I'll get to that in the next section).

The Relationship

Silver technically met Mordecai sometime after being brought back to the Little Daisy. Shown in the fic Lackadaisy's Ghost, Mordecai accidentally sees Silver while he is out walking at night (the only time he can without usually being spotted). His silver fur shining in the moonlight makes Silver look like a ghost. Mordecai believed Silver to be an intruder, then a part of his strange sleep patterns concerning vivid dreams and sleep walking (which may have supernatural significance), until Atlas informs Mordecai he and Mitzi have a very secluded daughter. Atlas got Silver's permission to do so. However, in his dreams, Mordecai already seemed to have some understanding of who Silver was before this point.

Before Silver was hired and they met officially (though it takes a while for Mordecai to realize who Silver truly is), Mordecai attempted to connect with Silver by placing gifts by his door to no avail. When Silver was hired and they officially met face-to-face, their coworker (and third part of their polycule), Viktor, tricked Mordecai into giving Silver his terrifying smolder, which had Silver cracking up laughing. Mordecai was shocked, not used to not being found intimidating, and his mask fell off in an instant, Silver seeing right through it from the start. When he noticed Silver was shaking during his introduction, Mordecai reached over and smoothed over Silver's paw, making an instant connection with him.

Silver's fear of men definitely makes it hard for Mordecai to connect to Silver, initially. However, Mordecai's previous efforts already made Silver quite charmed toward him and feel some sense of safety with him. Yet, this is often squandered by Mordecai's outward business demeaner, contrasting his gentleness from before and increasing his similarity to Silver's past bullies. Still, Silver finds he trusts Mordecai, despite himself. For a long time, all Mordecai can do is make the ever silent Silver laugh, Silver refusing to talk to anyone but finding Mordecai's pettiness and expressionless nature amusing.

Initially, Silver warms up to Viktor faster, due to being similar to his grandmother in some ways, and vastly different than the smooth talking men he was surrounded by in his old life. Ironically, it is an argument over Silver being stronger than Mordecai, something Mordecai struggles to accept due to his strongly held "heartless killer" persona, causing him to lash out. He is immediately apologetic at Silver's upset, however, Silver puts the blame on himself and goes silent again for some time (making Mordecai now become quite nervous when Silver goes quiet like that again).

After some time, and Silver still being a mix of guilty at himself but wary of Mordecai, making him quite hot and cold in his behaviors, Mordecai eventually talks Silver down. Mordecai convinces Silver to just be himself, Mordecai citing his relationship with Viktor, and how they're always bickering due to the other's unique quirks. Yet, they would never want the other to change or hide them, and they always make up, at the end of the day. Mordecai convinces Silver to do the same by admitting he finds Silver amazing and that, unlike his arguments with Viktor, their arguments actually challenge him and give him something to think about, which he appreciates.

So, ultimately, Mordecai concedes, admitting he finds Silver quite amazing for his strength, and accepting that he quite enjoys Silver being stronger than him, making Silver one of the few individuals that can protect him rather than the other way around. Silver ends up becoming the much more dominating personality, showing his true and wild side with the encouragement of Mordecai, who lets his more sensitive and skittish side show in turn. Although Atlas warns him of the dangers, Mordecai knows Silver's true heart underneath is an extremely sweet and caring one, and greatly enjoys Silver's gentleness, knowing from seeing Silver's fighting style that said gentleness is a very conscious choice made for Mordecai's sake.

Mordecai, accidentally shooting Silver in the head, and believing him to be dead due to this, separates them for some time. After Atlas' untimely death two years after, Mordecai goes to work for their competitor, the Marigold, to sniff out whether or not they had any involvement in Atlas' murder. However, upon being asked to kill Silver and, unable to do so, they are reunited and the events of the main fic start.

Freckle (Baby With a Shot Gun)

This is already very long, but I feel the need to put a tiny section about their crazy, adopted baby boy, Freckle. He is a new recruit to the Lackadaisy, Silver and Mordecai working for The Marigold instead, at the time. However, they meet him through visiting the Little Daisy from time to time, and Freckle feels an immediate connection with them both. Freckle is quite similar to Silver, coming off as meek and skittish, but having a secret feral side. This is something he feels quite ashamed of, while Silver takes pride in it, something that inspires him. However, he also has some of the common sense and brains that Mordecai does, making him a lot more logical and with far more foresight than his coworkers. Overall, he really admires how Mordecai and Silver ultimately use their head and cunning to survive and understand the situations around them, as well as being very crafty over physically strong.

Mordecai, who always respected his mom greatly and wishes to show Freckle the same gentleness she did to him. He also wishes to contrast Atlas usual coldness, who, after Mordecai began working with him, caused Mordecai to feel unloved and used. He ends on taking the role of "mama bear" in their little family. Mordecai acts calm most of the time, but mess with his family and he will show you his fangs. Also he is definitely the one that comes prepared and the one that gives the lectures.

Silver, meanwhile, is considered the "dad", teaching Freckle to use daggers like his grandmother did and helping him hone his observation skills for survival. Silver also greatly inspires Freckle, who is a bit curious about his own gender. Mordecai is initially surprised Freckle, in all his politeness and morals, wants someone as crazy as Silver as a father figure, but doesn't question it.

Freckle constantly insists to people seeing Silver or Mordecai as more uncaring than they truly are underneath the surface, "Mordecai and Silver are good people".

Together I find them adorable and I love them (take their human pictures cause I find them cute).

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer OT3 Week, Day Five: Nontraditional Soulmates

In the home stretch of @ot3-week's OT3 Week, and we've come to a good one today -- "Nontraditional soulmates!" Which, of course, is a perfect opportunity for me to bust out the Soulmates AU I came up with for the trio! :D I did two fics for this for last year's Polyship Week, and this one is sort of the sequel to the first, "Day Four: Soulmates." (The second being "Day Six: Drabble(s)," and coming even later in the timeline.) That story dealt with Victor running into Alice in the Whitechapel marketplace and accidentally activating their soulbond, only for a slightly-panicked Alice to run, leaving Victor to report the discovery to his other soulmate Smiler alone -- here, we have Alice, having mostly gotten over her initial "SHIT IT'S MY SOULMATE I'M NOT READY" reaction, finding her way to Victor via the bond so they can actually talk -- only to hesitate right outside his door...

--

All right. Here we are. No turning back now...no matter how much I kind of want to turn back.

Alice rocked anxiously on her heels, staring at the door in front of her. It was a pretty plain, ordinary door, all things considered. Little more than a flat piece of wood with a handle attached. Oh sure, there was a bit of perfunctory decoration in the form of a couple of shallow squares roughly dug out of the front, and the usual assortment of nicks and dings acquired from daily living, but other than that – it was an uncomplicated door for an uncomplicated building. There was nothing special or interesting about it at all, really.

Beyond the fact that one Victor Van Dort, her soulmate, was behind it.

Alice swallowed, worrying her lip with her teeth. It is so bizarre to just – know he’s there, she thought. With the sort of rock-solid certainty I don’t have about anything else in my life right now. But then – he must know I’m here, right? Why doesn’t he just – open the door? Spare me the trouble of knocking? But then again, he didn’t try to chase me when I ran from him in the market...perhaps he assumes that I still want to make the first move. And since we can only share emotions, not actual thoughts, I can’t really correct him. She sighed. Bloody hell – whoever or whatever force tied our lives together, it could have given us proper telepathy instead of just its poor cousin.

“It could have,” Cheshire agreed, sitting by her feet. “But it didn’t. Time to turn thought into action and spur him forward in the process.” He gave her a trademark grin, teeth glittering in the dim light of the hallway. “Or purrhaps spur forward someone else.”

Don’t you lot even think of intruding, Alice scolded, giving him her best glare. I mean, yes, he probably knows about you and Wonderland already, and how mucked-up my mind is, but – my stomach’s already in knots about this. She ran her thumb over her wrist, tracing the faint line that only she – and Victor – knew about. I don’t need the stress of having to wrangle you or Caterpillar or Hatter or God forbid the Queen of Hearts into the bargain.

“Have it your way,” Cheshire said, fading to eyes and smile. “Though I think you’ll soon find it’s not only us who can intrude.”

And with that, he was gone – predictably before she could ask him what the hell he meant. She looked up and down the hallway, but there was no one else there – and none of the doors to the other flats in this place looked ready to open anytime soon. “Maddening,” she muttered, shaking her head. “As if I needed any help in that regard...”

But he’d had a point before he’d vanished – nothing was going to happen if she didn’t make it happen. Alice ran her fingers through her hair to neaten it a bit, brushed off her skirts, then plucked up her courage and rapped smartly on the door. A moment later, it opened –

Revealing, of all people, Nanny’s new bartender at the Mangled Mermaid.

Alice stared. The bartender – one Smiler Alton, if she recalled correctly – stared back. Then, just before it could get awkward, they snorted. “Oh – that Alice,” they said, apropos of nothing. “I didn’t think I lived in that coincidental a universe.”

“...beg pardon?” Alice said, for lack of anything better.

“What she said.”

Victor appeared in the doorway behind Smiler, looking as confused as she felt. “Uh – hello,” he greeted her, before turning his attention to his – roommate? “‘That Alice?’”

“From the Mermaid,” Smiler explained, glancing up at him. “She’s Nan’s old charge – dropped by a couple of times to talk to her. Didn’t expect to see you under these circumstances,” they added in her direction.

“When it comes down to it, neither did I,” Alice said, tilting her head. “You and Victor live together?”

“Ah – yes,” Victor said, twisting his tie. Alice found herself resisting the urge to fiddle with her own blouse’s collar as the nerves poured off him and into her. “I – I d-don’t know how much the b-bond told you, but...well...”

“Hi,” Smiler cut in, sporting their namesake expression. “I’m your other soulmate.”

...Not even “beg pardon” seemed sufficient for that. “What?” Alice blurted. “You – but – what?”

“Yes, ah, sometimes – sometimes you can get two,” Victor said, shooting Smiler a look before favoring her with an awkward smile. “It’s, um, k-kind of a long story...how about you come in?”

“There’s tea and biscuits in it for you,” Smiler promised, stepping out of the way.

No, I want you to explain to me what the hell you mean by “sometimes you can get two” right now – but before Alice could put words to tongue, she caught sight of Smiler’s arm, resting against the door frame. Specifically, their wrist, leaned up against the wood above their head. Even more specifically, the thin scar running along said wrist –

That looked very, very much like the kind one might get if they’d taken a blunt spoon to their flesh in a desperate attempt to end their life. Alice swallowed and nodded. “I – I think I could use some tea right now, thank you.”

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 1: Dinner Time

Prologue

TW: Past neglect, death, violence, mention of blood, drinking

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker

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"Eight years in hell. . ."

You were seated on top of a desk playing with a snow globe in your hands.

"Can really make you go crazy." Your head hits the wall behind you, slowly turning to the bleeding man on the ground, once again receiving a blow to the face from a man dressed in dark red.

"P- please. . . I don't know anything. I swear." The man whimpers as he begged.

You sighed. "You're lying. I really, really hate liars' doctor." You through the snow globe onto the ground, shattering the glass. The man in red took your small fit of rage as a signal and pulled out a gun, pressing it against the doctor's head.

The bleeding doctor felt another type of fear the moment he felt the cool metal against his temple.

"W-wait! Wait! Please! I have a family; I'm begging you please!" The doctor cried and begged. The man in red glanced to you, you sighed and waved you're hand off. The man in red put his finger on the trigger, about to shoot.

"WAIT- Gotham hospital! She was at Gotham hospital!"

The man in red paused and glanced over to you.

You walked closer to the doctor, crouching down to the man's current level, as the man in red slowly pulled the gum away, the doctor felt a large wave of relief wash over him.

"Are you sure?"

The doctor nods "She s-saw Doctor Hill, that's all I know, I promise that's all I know."

You stay silent for a moment before standing up. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The Doctor felt relived. Wanting to go back to his wife and kids, hug them as tight as he could-

BAM!

The Doctor fell with a thud. Blood slowly seeping out of his body as you tossed the gun you used to shoot the doctor to the man in red.

"That's for lying" You mumbled as you stare at the doctor's body with indiffrence.

You've been out of Arkham for almost a month now. You should be relaxing, try to fit back into society. But no, your mother was missing, the Falcone's didn't know where her whereabouts were, some made comments of her abandoning you the moment you got out, which coursed them to have a slow death for their crude comments.

Your mother loves you, and you know she would never abandon you. So now you're searching. But you aren't getting to her fast enough. And your growing impatient. You wanted to come back out into the world and run into the arms of your mother, but your just met with Gotham's ugly mug. It angered you beyond words.

The man in red, Rex, works for the Falcones, but has come to be loyal to you. Rex followed behind you as you walked out of the room and down the halls.

"Give doctor hill a visit for me, will ya?" You spoke coldly as your heels clicked loudly walking down the empty hall of an abandoned building. Rex nods before speaking up.

"What about you Miss Falcone. Are you going back to the Falcon manor?"

Ah, yes. You took your mother's last name. All done in paper. No more, Y/n Wayne. That little girl is dead.

". . . No, I need to grab a few things."

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Alfred knows you have been out for a month, so why have you not come back to the manor?

Alfred tried to keep in touch as much as possible during your time in Arkham. Every phone call, he could hear that sweet innocent girl he knew fade. He has tried to phone you multiple times but no use. Even tracking you down with was difficult, Alfred has tried to tell Bruce about his worry for you not coming home, But Bruce seemed to almost immediately shut down at the mention of your name.

He's worried for you, he just wants to see you, and make sure you're okay.

There was a met Gala being held today. Preparing for it was exhausting, but it was like that every time a gala had to be held. Everyone scattered all over the manor.

With a heavy sigh, Alfred entered the kitchen, the gala's close to an end, the rich of Gotham turning in for the night. But Alfred comes to a stop when he noticed a woman in the kitchen, dressed in a dark red dress, her back faced to him as she picked up a glass of wine.

"Excuse me ma'am, you're not supposed to be in the back here." Alfred spoke firmly with his usual stoic expression. The woman in red slowly turns around with the wine glass in hand. Then she spoke, the face, Alfred surely does not recognize, but the voice. He knows your voice.

"I rather be away from the crowed, if you don't mind." You gave the older man a small smirk as you see the realization hit him.

"Miss Y/n?"

Your small smirk cracked even wider. Alfred walks closer, shocked to see you here, in the kitchen munching on some sweets, just like you used to when you were younger.

You shrugged with a small giggle slipping from your red lips

"The one and only"

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"Miss Y/n, come, Master Bruce must know your home!" Alfred might not show it a lot, but he is overjoyed to see you in the manor again. You've grown so much.

"Ah, well I was hoping to just grab some things from my old room and head out." You try to walk off to the back staires

"Nonsense, come, come." Alfred needed you to meet the family. For the family to see you. He touched your back as to lead you out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

You immediately flinched away.

Your negative reaction causes the butler to coil back.

"Miss. . .?"

You let out a weak cuckle.

"Sorry, I'm not fond of being touched." You began to meekly rub your hands together. Alfred comes to realize your time in Arkham has damaged you in some way's he might not be able to know yet.

"No need to apologize miss Y/n." Despite the small awkward moment Alfred still managed to have you walked out to see the others.

You felt an immense amount of DeJa'Vu. The walls, the detailed engraved in these walls. These walls haunted your dreams. Only half of your childhood was spent in this manor. You remember running down those stairs once Bruce came home from work. Skipping through these halls after getting a solo part in choir, something Bruce never really paid mind too.

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Almost everyone was here tonight. Jason, Dick, Cassandra, Tim, Damian and Duke. Steph couldn't make it. Barbra was spending time with her father. And. . .

Bruce watched as his children chat, argue, laugh. He smiles to himself as he takes a sip of his glass of white wine.

"Where's Alfred?" Damian spoke up as he turned his head in search for the butler that is always usually hovering around. Bruce shrugs

"Most likely in the kitchen."

Suddenly, the doors open, in comes Alfred with a smile on his face.

"Alfred." Bruce can tell Alfred seems to be in a more chipper mood than he was in half an hour ago.

"We have a visitor." Alfred's words confused the others. Then you stepped up. You scanned the room. Some faces new, some old. Others were still confused, either not recognizing you due to the years that have passed, or the fact they simply didn't know who you were.

But Bruce didn't take long to recognize you. And the way he paled at the sight of you, it just made you smirk at his reaction. Dick was quick to follow the realization.

"Y/n . . ." Bruce mumbled.

Jason's head whipped to Bruce once he heard the name. Looking back at you then to Bruce.

"Y/n, we thought you were still . . ." Dick tried to speak, but he seemed to get more uncomfortable with just thinking of his words.

You wait for Dick to say the words, but clearly, he was still in shock to say it.

"Arkham? I've been, rehabilitated." You say this with a soft smile.

Jason, trying to process what the actual fuck is going on right now stayed silent. Damian also confused spoke up.

"Father who is this woman?"

Your eyes snapped to the young boy, your head tilt for a moment. Walking closer to the table. Your heels click as you kept your eyes on the young boy, and Bruce kept his eyes on you. Still not believing you were out.

"I'm his daughter. Blood, daughter." You spoke as you kept a playful manner to yourself. The Damian frowns. "Imposible. I'm fathers only blood child."

You paused for a moment. You seem to be analyzing the situation.

"Is that what dear old daddy said." Your chuckle, almost darkly, as you sipped on your glass of red wine. Alfred pulled up a seat at the end of the table, across from Bruce. You took a seat.

The room that was once filled with chatter and warm air was now silent and tension filled the air. You leaned back into the chair; Alfred re-fills your glass.

"Thank you, Alfred." You kept a small playful smile on your red lips. You let out a small sigh before speaking

"So, what did I miss?"

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢?"

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

The UKs treatment of asylum seekers (blue) and trans people (green) based on the ten stages of genocide. For your consideration.

Some clarifying points:

I classed negative news stories (when repeated over and over again) as 'propaganda'

Trans people are not necessarily "forced" to out themselves but we are if we want to change our sex, get healthcare, or even change our name in some cases. Plus there is a vast effort from terf and terf-adjacents to "find out" who the trans people are.

Persecution of trans people has gotten to the point of regular murders, but I didn't highlight it because there are technically no laws afaik advocating for this / excusing it. However it probably could be highlighted.

I class "organisation" as things like the border force, military, and police, who have all been involved in the processing of asylum seekers

Dehumanisation is quite vague. It's generally not so explicit as the examples shown, but it is there if you know what to look for.

[nubsoftherat]

People Living my original posts lately

Almost like I'm interesting or something

Anyways, Tim Drake: Arkham Asylum. Tim but he's in rehab. Tim but he's in the hospital. Tim but he's receiving help. Tim but he's in group. Tim but he got caught. Tim but Bruce went too far. Tim but he's too tired to care. Tim but-