#tw small mention of abuse

[karupup]

Thinking about expanding more on this idea of purple having a chance to have two moms (maybe three ? *COUGH* )

I love found family and giving purple a chance to be happy with her mom so I’m just gonna sprinkle some hcs because why not

Headcannons/ story backgrounds

Purple - she/he/they

Purple is more skeptical with others especially men after the divorce happened between his mom and their father, afraid to meet someone like her dad again and treat both of them horribly

She did find a few part time jobs after that divorce, working with babysitting, fast food just to pay the rent and the groceries, she still does have those jobs after they met Vic, very scared that all the money that they’re borrowing for the rent, food and medical bills they’ll be in deep serious of debt to a growing well known company 

Purple still have hopes that her dad will come home and think it’s a dream, still young enough that she believes that family comes first and that they’re loved but old enough that that sort of thing sometimes doesn’t happen to everyone.

When meeting Vic he’s already skeptical but doesn’t want to piss her off afraid to start something that gonna make their situation worse only for his mom to take care of all the talking and now has financial help

Vic- he/she

When meeting orchid again they both caught up with eachother, letting eachother know how things go after they departed from the orphanage, Vic becoming a successful businesswoman with herself being the founder and CEO of Rocket corp while Orchid became a housewife with a child.

When learning about orchid’s situation Vic immediately asked if she needed help and offered to pay the house expenses and loans to her and purple. Offering help with no cost because she understood what situation they’re going through.

After a few weeks and orchid in the hospital Vic didn’t hesitate to find chances to spend time with her along with bringing purple along to visit her too. Taking care of the medical expenses for them and willing to do anything to get her better

Vic and purple also bond too with not just telling eachother’s stories about orchid but also traumatic past and events (with purple it’s with Navy and their expectations and pressure, with Vic is the torture and that thread of hope of living)

Both Bond on snacks and just stories, sometimes Vic would show purple his work and parts of her company along with life lessons and purple will listen.

Vic has a strong sweet tooth because of orchid’s cookies she usually gives to Vic

Orchid- she/her 

After the divorce the only thing she got was the house and a little bit of cash she got

Since she was at the orphanage she has no parent to go to and the only adults she “knew” was family from Navy’s side

She did find some jobs bur After a few days she started to feel ill and had to quit work to preventing herself to overwork.

They met Vic when they were on a stroll down the street and stopping by to get coffee/tea

When catching up she admitted to herself that she was jealous on how successful Vic was while she was stuck in debt and can’t pay the bills, leaving her child to take care of that till Vic offers to help, she denied it a few times because she didn’t want to burden her best friend but accepted it later seeing how sincere Vic was 

When in hospitalization and spending a few days with Vic she learned her feeling towards her grew back but she knew what that feeling was now and appreciated what Vic has done to help her and her child go through it. Having frequent visits from them both, seeing her child grow bit by bit and feeling better thanks to her. She was a bit saddened that Purple didn’t see that Vic was trying to help them but soon saw how much they both grew closer and closer that purple tells her stories about what Vic did. 

Possible Future fic ideas/ future ideas for them

Marriage

Purple offering a job at rocket corp after graduation

Orchid getting better that she’s in good health

More Vic and purple bonding (maybe purple accidentally called Vic ma then scatters away)

These are POSSIBLE fics but a high chance that they’ll not be written till then

POST OVER GOODNIGHT

Made another Vic x orchard fic

Go get your food

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57898630

[spinnysocks]

i don't know how else to say this but we as a society need to stop seeing small pet death as funny. in fact, we need to stop normalising putting them in danger for our entertainment. i have owned hamsters all my life; they are such beautiful little creatures. they are so fragile that it made me so anxious for them because i cared for them. yet, movies or tv shows present hamster death as a joke somehow. this must have had a knock-on effect on people's views because i have seen so many people making fun of a dead pet on social media. i have seen so many people laugh because somebody's pet hamster died/because someone is grieving it. is it funny because you see them as small and insignificant? because a hamster is seen as a stupid, tiny creature that holds no worth? so you laugh at its death? i genuinely cannot understand it. where is the joke. i feel genuine grief for hamsters who have been put in danger or died because of neglect, just to be recorded and laughed at by the same species who domesticated them. the same species who made them pets and are supposed to look after them. yeah maybe i'm sensitive but i think i should be. how could the death of a tiny, innocent, unknowing little animal we made our pets, an animal so fragile and reliant on us, be funny.

[uncanny-tranny]

It is okay if you can never forgive somebody who has harmed or abused you. You don't have to forgive them, but you deserve to find peace in other ways. If you can't forgive or forget, then do things for your sake. Find what fulfills you, if to make it easier for yourself. That is okay. Forgiveness isn't forgiveness if it is demanded or expected, and it isn't fair for you

[theswedishcatlord101]

Ace lore

(TW: implied Inc3st, assault, and abuse)

Textless version:

”I should have done something to save you… then none of this would have happened…”

*Miss Theori is sad and looking at old pictures and drawings to relax*

Speedpaint:

[lone-starlight]

[It's late. It's late and Star should be asleep, snuggled in their quilt alongside Diamond. But they aren't. Instead they're at the window, staring out at the snow and trying to keep their tears and laboured breaths quiet, trying to keep the bile down their throat after their latest nightmare]

[They were in that hospital again - just as pristine and sterile as they remembered - and they were in that god forsaken hallway again. Having gone through this so many times before, they'd practically memorized the locations of the most noteworthy items - the key, the wire necklace, and a star-shaped pendant they found in a more recent venture. It pushed like a button and had stray wires sticking out of it... they have a pretty good idea as to what it was for, but it still makes them sick to think about it for too long]

[They immediately went for the key this time and ran to unlock the door - a game of chance, really, sometimes they win and unlock some buried horrible memories, or they get mauled by the Security... it feels wrong to call the thing torturing them in their dreams "Seki" so... they don't]

[Just as they put the key through the lock, they heard it; that horrible, static growl at the end of the hall, now accompanied by beeping, the thing's attempt at speech that they can't understand. It started to dash on all fours down the hall as Star scrambled with the key to open the door. Those claws scrape at their mind as it gets closer and closer until-]

[Star finally opened the door and slammed it behind them. They expect the monster to slam into it, try to claw its way in, but... there's nothing. No slam, no scratching, not even his growl or morse speech]

[They didn't wanna check to see if it was still there, so they locked the door and turned to the room they've walked into]

[It's the mall again, this time they've walked in through one of the tunnel doors leading to the various shops and food court booths, the same one Ranboo and Charlie ran away from the drones through. So, they assumed they were in Charlie's booth, just without all the streaming equipment - not surprising, in their memory it didn't exist yet]

[Hopping the counter, Star looks around. It's different being in the mall than seeing it on the sidelines, it all feels so much more daunting, making their skin crawl from the feeling of eyes all around them]

[Without any goal in mind - except staying away from that operation room, you know what you saw - they wander around the mall, looking at the various sets of shows, now long past. There was a room covered in sand, cacti, and had what looked to be an old western saloon. There was what looked to be a rooftop set - surprising, Star half expected Showfall to stick their actors on an actual rooftop for those scenes, but maybe they had one too many "accidents" with that. It's probably a bit more difficult to put someone back together once they splat]

[There was a set that stood out to them the most, but they couldn't think of why - now though, they have a couple of guesses. It was a simple set, just a bench in what looked to be a park, a little piece of outside in the company's isolation, complete with trees, grass, and a dirt trail, the walls covered with beautiful but clearly fake scenery. On the bench, facing away from Star, two men were sat, looking at their fake view. G'uncle Germ and Papa, the memory provided. They never would've guessed otherwise - Puzzler looks... so different, almost like a completely different person... maybe he was. And their Dad... they still can't see his face, still can't remember]

[When the man on the left talks, however, it is undoubtedly their Great Uncle Jeremy. He clacks his cane against the floor]

"... Are you truly sure about this plan of yours?"

[Their... their Dad just nods his head]

"Mhm."

"What if it fails?"

"It won't. I've thought of every possibility, and I've made sure that this will work. Have a bit of faith in me, will ya, old man?"

[Star hears the smile in his voice and tries to imagine it... but come up blank]

[There's another clack and their dad quickly slides away from The Puzzler, laughing but rubbing his shin in pain]

"Be serious, Lucian!"

"I am! Everything will be fine, Jeremy! So relax!"

"How do you expect me to relax if you refuse to clue me in on this scheme of yours! This could very well be a suicide mission and you won't tell me."

"..."

[Lucian turns to the slouched man to his left and rests a hand on his shoulder. Star can't see his face, but they can imagine the sorrow and guilt from his voice]

"Jeremy... you know why I can't tell you. Hell, it was risky enough to even tell you I had a plan to get out of here in the first place, you know this."

"... Yes, yes I'm aware. I apologize, my friend. I just... cannot help but worry."

"Heh, these shows are really bringing out the father in you."

"As you insist on reminding me, I am but an old, old man."

[They both chuckle to themselves, looking back at the wall. There's a door, clearly printed over, but it is definitely there... Star can feel the two men staring at it]

"Just... promise me one thing, Lucian."

"Of course, Jer. Anything."

[The cane clicks against the floor a couple of times, as Star hears the faintest sound of electricity]

"When you leave this place... do not return, at any and all costs."

[Lucian is silent, staring at the printed pond in front of him, considering his friend's words]

"Lucian, please. This place is... it is no place for a father and his child, I know this just as well as you do. And Aster... that little star needs you to be there for them. When you leave, take them far, far away from here, travel across the country if you must. Just... don't turn back. Move on from this prison, forget about us... promise me this, Lucky."

[The Puzzler has now taken the taller man's hands in his own, forcing Lucian to look him in the eyes]

"Please, my boy..."

[Their father pulls one hand out of the old man's grasp and wraps his arm around Jeremy, holding him gently. This felt like a goodbye, a personal moment Star was intruding on, but they couldn't bring themself to look away]

"... I promise."

[Finally, quietly and carefully, Star backs away from the park set, feeling queasy as they turn their back on the two men]

[He promised... he promised and he lied. He must've, right? If he hadn't lied, then he would've been there, he would've watched them grow up, he would've been there to help with the bullying, sing them to sleep, hug them when nothing felt real, hold them when they needed his strength. He would have been home, but he went back. There's no other explanation, or rather, there is but it didn't make sense. Why would he leave again? Why did he go back?]

[Star was spiralling - truly feat within a dream, but they just love to do the impossible - walking through the mall, not thinking of where they were going...]

[Which is probably why they ran right into a drone as they rounded a corner]

"Shit-"

[Before they could run, the drone grabbed them by the wrist, yanking them towards it as several more drones came to circle around and grab them, tugging and dragging them to...]

[A grate rattles. They look at it and see Security, their usual tormentor, desperately yanking at the door of its cage, screaming and crying for, presumably, its own freedom. In any other situation they'd feel bad for the thing, but right now they're in such a panic, the only thing they're thinking of is just more confusing]

[This isn't a memory, they've never seen SecuriTV outside of The Social Experiments, they know this. Somehow, they know this, somehow they know it just didn't exist during their stay. But how, why?]

[They don't have enough time before they're thrown into a pitch black room and shutting the door. Trying the handle proves to be fruitless, so they just start banging on the door, screaming and crying and just generally being childish... before they hear a voice again]

"Oh, Little Star... how many times must we go over this..."

[His voice is so sickly sweet, they can taste it like poison burning their throat shut. They don't want to look at him - if they look that makes him real - but the man clutches their shoulder to face him, then grabs their chubby face in one hand, forcing them look him in the eye]

[That mask... that wretched fucking mask remains unreadable, but the eyes behind it have a cruel sort of amusement in them, as if he was taking joy in seeing their fear. He probably was, with or without the mask]

"You just never learn, do you?"

[He turns and drags them to that table, not the table, please, please, please, anything but the table, I'll be good, I swear, I'll be good. Please, just lemme go back to my Papa!]

"Oh, Starlight... I'm afraid it's far too late for that."

[Too late]

[Too late, too late too late Too Late]

[He straps them down to the operating table and, while flicking a syringe, stares at them while they struggle and cry and Beg]

"You're just always too late, aren't you? Perhaps you can learn one day."

[Aster begs, begs, begs, and begs, crying for their Papa, G'uncle Germ, for Barlie, but the man - can he even be called a man anymore? - he just chuckles as he approaches with the large needle]

"Let's see how long you last this time, little one."

[The needle jabs their arm and they can't even focus on that pain before the liquid starts burning in their veins, their blood, their whole being. Everything hurts, everything's burning, please just make it stop, please, please please please-]

[That's when they woke up, not with a scream, thank god, but they were still drenched in sweat and tears. They'd carefully extracted themself from Diamond and their quilt, praying to whoever is still out there that the kid doesn't wake up. They didn't, again, thank god, and now... here they are. Sitting at a windowsill feeling like absolute garbage]

[They don't want to write that dream down for the dream logs... in fact, they just wanna forget the dream entirely. But they know they won't, not with a dream like that. And now, they just have more questions, questions they also don't want to think about]

[So, instead, they just curl up into themself, and cry]

[wompwomf]

kids these days will want anything to be a trauma story for them

"my dad groomed me" and "im a ramcoa survivor"

and then when you ask them about it they end up describing their dad being a normal loving parent and they just left a church because the pastor was mean once (he was probably pointing out bad behavior in sunday school)

and as a survivor of grooming, i can't say anything on the ramcoa bit, its fucking disgusting how many kids will call me a groomer for wanting to be friends, or for calling them a nickname, you can be friends with people of other ages and not be romantic

and im sorry if this part specifically offends you, but 2-3 year age gap IS NOT GROOMING, grooming is 5 or more years apart when one or both is under the age of 18!! and 17 year olds, stop trying to make every adult out to be a groomer for trying to help you

ive met people who are actual groomers, and people who have been groomed, if an adult inconveniences you YOU ARE NOT BEING GROOMED, being groomed is when the intent is specifically and clearly romantic and or sexual INITIATIVE FROM SOMEONE OLDER, if you are making advances on an adult, youve been groomed or your fucked up, but that is on the adult to stop or block you!!! YOU making advances and them stopping you IS NOT GROOMING and im tired of people acting like it is!!!

stop pretending to have actual trauma from something non traumatic, when you ACTUALLY get groomed i will listen and console you, if you say your groomed i will believe you UNTIL i hear your story, if your story is just a normal encounter with someone 2 years or older and YOU interpreted it as romantic or sexual, im leaving you and your trauma at the door because I couldn't care less

here are the definitions if grooming and pedophilia, YOU ARE NOT BEING GROOMED!! if your experience does in fact fit into these definitions, i recommend getting help from a friend or a professional to get out of this problem, whether you are a pedophile, or are being victimized by one, and i sincerely hope everything gets better, my prayers are being sent to you and to a safe recovery 💜

[companionwolf]

uh ramble under cut abt. mom. bc maybe if i write it i will stop thinking abt it? idk. i'm trying really hard. tw for mentions of physical child abuse stuff.

it's not like she ever hurt me. like dad. i mean. she would hurt me with words. like uh. i think the kid part named small said once 'hurt me inside the head'. she still does it and we're never sure when it will happen. anyway. i don't know why i. why i feel unsafe. unloved. she's better than dad. she tries i think. not very well imo. not in the way i want. need? but it's probably on me. for not saying anything. i shouldn't even say this stuff. she's not a bad mom. she just. isn't. that good. esp since uh. she let him. she let him do at least some of the things. the hitting. idk abt everything else. but the hitting she knew and she saw and she let it happen. ig she maybe was scared of him? but then. i think he only ever hit the dogs. and me. i miss the old dogs. they knew. new dogs don't know. maybe they do? maybe. i know one of us is scared he will hit the new dogs. idk what i'm trying to say. i'm me but. not the right age rn. and i don't feel safe. or loved. trying to distract. (how many times have we died alone in this room?)

[greensaplinggrace]

Were you abused as a kid and that's why you can't tell d*rkl*na isn't abusive?

[case-study-on-love-comic]

CASE 5: Narcissism

cw: eating disorder, gaslighting, body shaming

Second of the three calls I had with him after we broke up.

[chronosbled]

{ I noticed that lots of people tend to forget that Dickson is a mentally unstable individual who will do anything that he deems necessary to get what he wants all because he speaks to their muses and such with nothing but smiles and compliments.

Dickson is NOT a kind or compassionate person, nor does he care about those that he isn't actively pursuing for the sake of genuine friendship or genuine obsession (love in his eyes). Being kind and compassionate is nothing but another mask that he wears from his various collection when he deems it necessary. As an experiment, along with his condition that makes him unable to properly form and convey emotions (which was only worsened by the experimentation he underwent), Dickson is almost 100% incapable of feeling genuine emotions that belong to him and him alone. He has a habit of using the things he's learned from others by watching them when he's trying to portray his own "feelings" towards others and that's the main issue. Those feelings aren't his ACTUAL feelings, they're someone else's, how someone else he observed for years would react.

If someone were to somehow have the ability to strip him of his masks (his "emotions" and "feelings" if you would call them that), they would find nothing but an empty and broken shell of a person who doesn't know how to do anything but obey someone's orders or someone who completely disregards himself (as in his own well-being) when it comes to endlessly toiling away at his own experiments — and despite his experiments revolving around people who have been fucked over by life, making his own attempts to somehow benefit them — his motivation for said deed was not 100% done out of his own desire to do so, but done because (once he was finally able to recall more about his parents from his childhood) he remembered how the both of them desired to use their skills for good and to help those who cannot help themselves. Thus he applied his parents' feelings to himself and uses that core fundamental as the basis of his entire existence (after his grandfather is finally dead and he doesn't have an actual purpose anymore).

Another reason why Dickson shouldn't be underestimated (and simply chalked up to be the sweet, handsome gentleman) is because of the fact he isn't afraid to use and abuse people for his own gain. He will hurt people. He will manipulate people. He will blackmail them and torture them just like he was. And above all else, he WILL kill people. Dickson is not afraid of getting his hands dirty nor is he afraid to take people hostage and brainwash them to do his bidding if he finds it too much of a hassle for himself (or simply because he won't get caught this way if others are watching him). Before Dickson was able to take care of himself and do things for himself, his grandfather had him work as an assassin of sorts (or rather a mercenary if that's what you prefer to call it), granted he wasn't great at it in the beginning because he was very clumsy and wasn't quite sure of what he was doing, but in the end, he still killed people and usually in various creative and cruel ways too if the opportunity to do so provided itself. Additionally, Dickson will also go to any lengths he deems necessary to make sure his target doesn't come out alive, such as the time he chopped off his own hand in order to free himself so he could proceed to kill his client's target.

Sure Dickson may have been more hesitant to do terrible things when he was younger, like when his late fiancée, Janus, wanted him to help her murder various people simply because she felt like it and he didn't want to participate, but that's Dickson was a lot more weak-willed and timid during his childhood. Back then, he didn't have almost any drive to do anything because he wasn't conditioned to be subservient yet. Granted he still would listen to his grandfather's orders without question, but Janus hadn't fully established that kind of FULL control over him since he'd only known her for a few years, thus that lack of control over him is what ended up leading him to kill Janus when she finally got fed up with him enough to begin beating him (that day anyway, considering she was always abusive towards him). That fear he possessed from his childhood years (something I've already established in posts before) had changed into anger (another thing I've already established in past posts) before he finally ended up snapping all together and stabbing Janus to death, regretting what he had done for only a few moments until that dissipated as well because he simply couldn't bring himself to care. The fact that he stored her body in a freezer within the basement of the Simmons Estate only serves as a reminder of how he started in his mind.

One of the biggest reasons why people should remember that Dickson isn't just a pretty face is the HUGE fact that he basically has his own servant (more like mind slave) that both he and Janus shared together when she was still alive, that he ACTIVELY participated in breaking on the days he had suffered himself (granted he was made to believe it was alright by Janus, but that's besides the point). This point here is a perfect way to represent just how broken and unstable Dickson is as well because normally Dickson was the one who tried to keep Janus from tormenting Belphegor (the name Janus decided to give the boy despite him already having a name) and was often the one trying to tend to whatever wounds Janus had created, be them physical or mental ones (though Dickson was only good at mending physical wounds). In Belphegor's mind, Dickson was going to become his savior at some point due to the fact he showed more compassion towards him than Janus did, but this sentiment ended up proving false the day Dickson murdered Janus. Dickson's once gentle and caring demeanor towards Belphegor ended up changing into something more deranged and it only proceeded to get worse once Carla died as well — gentle gestures of affection soon became more aggressive and agitated, once soothing and comforting words became accusatory and possessive, promises of better treatment and freedom became guilt-tripping and manipulation — eventually leading for Belphegor's mental state to be completely broken down to the point he became a puppet for whatever Dickson desired.

Now, you're probably thinking "but hey, doesn't this contradict everything you've posted about Dickson before? You know, the stuff about him not wanting to be like his grandfather and such?" And in a sense, yes, I did contradict myself, but at the same time... I didn't. Why? Because Dickson didn't want to become like his grandfather or Janus or any of the people who tormented him for the entirety of his life, but when you are basically a prisoner within your own home and are subjected to abuse for so long, you generally end up developing Stockholm Syndrome and that's basically what happened to Dickson. The abuse and torment are what lead up to Dickson basically becoming his grandfather and Janus, but he only realizes this once he joins the BSAA and meets Chris and his team. Why does he realize this? Well, that's because of the simple fact that they all treat him like an ally and not a tool. They slowly begin to make him realize that he isn't just an object for someone's desires nor is he just a toy that will be endlessly used until it's broken and tossed away. They made him feel something that he's never felt before: human. They made him feel like he was an ACTUAL human being and not a monster, that he wasn't some kind of murderous and heartless creature, but instead was their close friend and even a part of their little family, which is something that Dickson has always wanted so desperately deep down inside of his very being. Not his grandfather. Not Janus. Not his mother or father. Not Carla. Dickson. Something that HE wanted. One of the very first and only things he's ever wanted in his life. Granted he still wears his various masks around them, but that's because he doesn't know how to stop nor does he want them to know just how inhuman he really is.

^^^ And this whole above paragraph really does help to show just how broken Dickson is and how even just a little bit of love and care towards him can make him into a completely different person, especially if we jump back to this line here in the first paragraph: "Dickson is NOT a kind or compassionate person, nor does he care about those that he isn't actively pursuing for the sake of genuine friendship or genuine obsession (love in his eyes)." The only reason he cares so much about Chris and his team is because of the simple fact they tried to develop genuine friendships with him to the point he had become obsessively in love with each and every one of them (some in platonic ways: Chris, Philis, Finn, Jill, Steve, and some in romantic ways: Victoria and Piers).

But back to the topic of the mind slave, due to the fact that Dickson had finally come into contact with people who... understood him in a sense for lack of a better word... he began to think that he could actually be something other than a tool and because of that, he also believed that maybe Belphegor could be more than a tool as well. Of course, due to being completely broken by Dickson, there wasn't much that could be done for him in the ways of... fixing him so in the end, Dickson simply continues to use Belphegor for whatever he deems necessary but instead of treating him as badly as he had before, he now somewhat treats him as he used to (though he can still be rather harsh when he isn't in the greatest of moods).

So with all that being said, I advise you all (especially those of you with muses that are seeking out romantic affairs with Dickson) to proceed with the utmost caution when doing so because there may come a point where Dickson doesn't care about your muse anymore and simply chooses to discard them (minus Crystal of course because that's his wifey). }

[palismet]

no because it IS in the fact that belos had moments where he was kind to hunter. the gentleness of an almost love. something for him, as well, to hold on to caleb by. even by ghost, by dream, by copy.

hunter asking about the human realm in eclipse lake and shaking his head no to belos' you know i've been there before, have i ever told you that? that instilled curiosity is hunter's through and through: but oh, some piece of him has to feel at home in the human world. some part of him being there like finally, finally, i have been waiting for this, i remember you.

that soft nostalgia in belos' tone. the way hunter softens in the face of it? there had to have been more moments like this. not many, not enough by far, but enough to keep him holding on until the next one. enough to keep working towards. motivation, drive, inspiration.

not just for approval, but for pride, for love.

even if it never comes, there is always, always the chance of it.

and that's enough to keep dreaming by. hoping for. fighting for.

because it has to be. it has to be.

[collectingsparechangemadeeasy1]

Painting the Town Red

So I’ll be adding it in the tags, but there’s a trigger warning of a child being beaten, and a very brief mention alluding to kidnapping, if there’s anything else I should add to that, let me know!

Oscar bounded after his dad after leaving Fairytale at the stables with Long Memory. They were visiting the town today to run some errands, and Oscar was ecstatic! He so rarely got to go into town, partly because they had what they needed to live at the farm, but partly because dad was a little over protective, and said it was dangerous. But he was going today! He was so excited, he could just explode! In fact, he kinda was! Little green magic fireworks shot off randomly from his head, sometimes his magic would do funny stuff when he was feeling something really strongly.

He bounced along his dads side, half listening to the itinerary of the day. Hot cocoa ingredients, new horse brushes, blah blah blah, potions from aunt Glynda! But she wasn’t in today… so they would get them from her assistant Gray, boo. Seeds, blah blah blah.

Oscar looked around in wonderment at all the stalls and built shops around them. People selling clothes of bright hues to the left, someone cooking delicious smelling meat to the right, and ahead some someone yelling about how amazing their jewelry was, another was arguing about prices.

Oscar pressed a bit closer to his dad. It was… so much. He’d been to town a few times, but they didn’t go through this part… Was there an event? Was something special happening? It was hot outside too… His head was starting to  spin, people were yelling, some calling out to him, everything was so bright, it hurt his eyes. He tried to cover his ears and close his eyes, but people shoved into him and made him stumble, they glared or even shouted at him. He didn’t immediately register he wasn’t with his dad anymore.

His breathing was heavy and erratic, he felt hot and uncomfortable, his clothes were clinging in all the wrong ways and places and he felt tears brimming in his eyes. He wanted his dad! He wanted to go home! This was a bad idea! He should have stayed on the farm today! He wanted to go home!

Finally he stumbled into an alleyway between two shops and was able to scurry away from all the noise and heat and light. He curled up, putting his head between his knees as he sobbed softly. This was turning into a horrible day… He felt gross but in a bad way, not in the “just worked the fields and now I’m gross” way. He’d lost his dad, he had no idea where he was, and he was too scared to leave the alley…

He didn’t know how long he cried for, when someone roughly grabbed his hair and yanked him into the air, making him cry out in pain. He wriggled and kicked, fearful tears coming faster now. He sobbed, looking into the eyes of the man that held him. He was clean shaven, and smelled like something sweet and cigar smoke. The smell was oddly comforting, since his dad smelled like cigars sometimes.

 He had bright red hair that covered one of his eyes, the visible one was a bright flashing green. He wore a white trench coat, his hands bore black gloves with orange jack-o-lanterns faces on the backs. His shirt was a black blouse, a gray ribbon tied around the neckline, with gray pants and black shiny shoes. He also wore a bowler hat, with a dyed pink, brown, and white feather in the band.

His companion was a small girl, with half pink and half brown hair, little streaks of white running through the dual colors, her eyes matched. She wore a white three quarters sleeved sheath dress with a slit up to her thigh up the side, and a half pink half brown demi-loop corset that had black lace around the edges.

“Well… look what we have here? A little brat all alone. Where’s your mommy?” The man holding him up asked mockingly, shaking Oscar and making him cry out in pain.

“I-I don’t have one, let me go!” He pleaded, but it only made the man laugh at him, the girl smiled cruelly.

“Awwww! He doesn’t have a mommy!” he cooed patronizingly. “How sad! Say Neo, you want a kid?” The girl, Neo, gained a look of utter disgust and spat on Oscar.  “Woof, tough break kid. My partner here doesn’t seem to like you.”

He shook horribly, his head hurt so much from where the man was holding him, and he wanted his dad more than ever right now. “W-what do you want from me?”

The man scoffed and jostled him roughly with another cry of pain.“There’s nothing a pipsqueak like you could really give me. But I’ll take whatever you have, and since I’ve had a rough day, I think I’ll take it out on you. Sounds fair?”

Oscar grunted in pain as he was suddenly thrown to the ground, his head banging against the curb, making stars dance in his eyes. And then… pain exploded through his abdomen as a hard kick connected, making him gasp, gag, and wretch horribly. Tears dripped down his cheeks as darkness blurred across his vision. 

Another blow rang out, but this time it wasn’t aimed at Oscar. A rock clattered to the ground, one that had been thrown at the man, hitting him square in the forehead. “Ah! What the- who would dare- Ow!” He cried out as another rock hit him, and another and another! It was a malstrom of projectiles.

Oscar looked to the end of the alley where the rocks were coming from. Three teenagers stood there, throwing the rocks at his assailants.

“Get lost creep!” the shortest girl cried, hurling a large rock at the pair. Her hair was short and a bit choppy, like she’d cut it herself, and a bright pale orange. Her eyes were a bright baby blue. She wore a white long sleeved shirt, a pink heart painted on the front. A dark grey sweater where she seemed to have endless rocks stored, was around her shoulders. And her skirt was a pink and blue plaid design, a white petticoat under it.

“Yeah! Leave him alone!” The blonde boy agreed, though his voice was shakier. He had blue eyes and a little brown cap on his head, and brown fingerless gloves. A black hooded cloak with a gray bunny on the front was around his shoulders. As well as a white blouse and blue pants, with brown mud caked boots.

“Go away! Get out of here!” The boy with the pink streak in his hair huffed, using vines to throw more pebbles at the pair. He had bright pink eyes, like the geraniums his dad planted last year. He wore green overalls with a pink lotus on the front chest pocket, a pink long sleeved shirt with black sleeves, and black boots with gold laces. His hair was tied back with a white and pink ribbon.

“And don’t come back!” The tall girl nodded, levitating some of the stones to hurl at the two. She had bright green eyes, but not like the mans, hers were kinder, even in her furied state. Her hair was long and red, held back by a black cord and kept neat with a gold circlet that had a green emerald in the center. She had a brown blouse with a braided design on the sides of the chest and a collar. Her knit sweater was a dark red color and seemed a bit big on her. She wore a golden yellow skirt with matching suspenders, black tights, and brown boots with gold heels.

The pair looked ready to attack the group of teens, but realizing they were outnumbered, and that the four were magic users. They shared a look, glared at Oscar, and ran, leaving the scent of cigar smoke and something sweet. Oscar didn’t get up when they left, the kick was strong and Oscar was sure the man had been wearing some kind of metal shoe. His stomach ached, his head was throbbing where the man had grabbed him, and he was sure he was bleeding… “Hey, are you ok?” the short girl with orange spiky hair asked, kneeling next to him.

Oscar shook his head, whimpering softly. “N-no…”

“Here, this might help.” the boy with pink eyes knelt next to him and hovered his hands over Oscar. They glowed a bright pink color and Oscar felt his pain easing and he breathed a sigh of relief. Healing magic… Not an easy thing to learn.

“Thank you…” he said softly, slowly sitting up with the aid of the tall girl and the blonde boy. “You saved me.”

“Awww, it was nothing. We just saw a creep and knew we had to put the beat down!” the orange haired girl declared, sticking out her hand. “My names Nora! These are my friends!”

“Jaune.” the blonde one smiled sheepishly.

“Lie-Ren.” The one with pink eyes bowed slightly.

“Pyrrha!” The red haired girl chirped. “And what’s your name?”

“It’s-”

“OSCAR!” there came a cry from the end of the alley, and Oscar’s heart leapt to his throat.

“DAD!” he cried, trying to stand to rush to him, but could barely take a step before falling over. Luckily, his dad was there now, and he caught him.

“Oscar! Oh Oscar! I lost you in the crowd! I was so scared! Oh never scare me like that again!” his dad all but sobbed, holding onto him like his life depended on it. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

“I-I don’t know… One was named Neo I think…” he sniffled, holding tightly to his dad.

“Neapolitan and Roman Torchwick.” Ren informed, “Known criminal kingpins of Vale. Guess they were having an off day.”

“We scared ‘em off though! They ran like a couple’a babies!” Nora smirked triumphantly.

Oscars dad breathed slowly and stood, holding Oscar still. “Thank you. All, I don’t know how to repay you for this.”

“No payment needed!” Pyrrha laughed a bit nervously, pausing as Jaune whispered something in her ear. She went a bit red and quickly snatched the circlet off her head. “Just uh- doing the right thing!”

He smiled and kissed Oscar’s head. “Well… why don’t I at least buy you all some treats, hm? Candy floss or ice cream perhaps? You did a great deed, let me thank you.”

Before Pyrrha could protest Nora was already tugging the older man by his coat, “Both! Can we do both! I want both!”

“Nora, remember your manners.” Ren chided as he followed along, Jaune trailing behind, holding Pyrrha’s hand as they followed his dad like ducklings.

Oscar smiled softly, sighing contently as his dad slowly wound his own healing magic through him. Maybe this trip to town wasn’t as awful as he thought…  

[uncanny-tranny]

I've noticed an attitude that some parents have where their perceived right to own their children outweighs their duty as a parent. It seems like so much emphasis is placed on the parents ability to own raise a child that it completely clouds any other responsibility for that child. I see it all the time around my culture, where parenthood isn't a question of "if," but "when," because it is seen as ubiquitous to being an adult, and I wonder how many people start believing that because they were expected to be a parent even when they did not want parenthood, they should be rewarded for it.

These are just shots of thoughts, but I've found that this idea that parenthood is your right when you own a child can contribute to an environment of abuse, neglect, or mistreatment of the child/ren in one's care.

And, absolutely, the opportunity of even being a parent has been leveraged in cruel ways, and I think that's an important consideration because it is completely heinous. In my country alone, forced sterilization has been a political strategy for eugenics and to complete a political narrative about the worth of people's right to even live. When thinking about everything above, it reminded me of other ways that parenthood both reinforces violence, perpetuates violence, and threatens violence. This problem goes much deeper than I think many are ready for, and I wanted to acknowledge this due to how pervasive this "political strategy" was/is in many places. I don't think I myself am equipped to truly do this specific topic justice, but I felt it pertinent to this conversation, and something I don't always see even passively acknowledged.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 20: people don't change people, time does

Found Family

4390 Words; Pooter Pile AU

TW for child abuse, attempted murder, unethical experimentation, blood mention

AO3 ver

“Gisu!”

Gisu looked up at the sound of the door slamming open. Dion let his leg fall back to the floor, his arms securely wrapped around the book he was carrying. Gisu felt a trickle of amusement as Dion stalked over to her, slamming the book on the desk.

It had only been two days since Raz ran off. Dion had come to surprisingly quickly after being thrown like that—maybe it was an acrobat thing. But he had had the worst headache, so it was nice to see him moving with his usual energy, again.

It’d be even nicer if Raz hadn’t run off, but still.

“I know where Raz went!” Dion exclaimed. “Is trying to go. Whatever. But I know where it is!” He flipped the book open, revealing it to be a photo album. Gisu got only a moment to glance at what she assumed were Dion’s baby pictures before he flipped to the page he wanted. “There.” He pointed at the picture of the family all assembled before the Aquatodome—it must have been a few years old, because Gisu couldn’t see Queepie anywhere, but she could see a much younger Mirtala held aloft in Donatella’s arms.

“Cute photo.” Gisu commented, totally not focusing on the massive grin on younger-photo-Dion’s face. “What makes you think Raz is going there?”

Dion pointed at the photo—at the background of the photo, Gisu realized, his finger tapping the mountain dominating the landscape. “When Raz hit me with his… psychic thingy, I think…” He trailed off, searching for the words. “Psychic bullshit involves mind stuff, right? Like thoughts and feelings.”

“Yeah…” Gisu nodded.

“And I’ve been seeing the same fucking mountain since he hit me,” Dion continued, “Which means it’s probably, like, an afterthought of it.”

“After-effect,” Gisu corrected.

“Yeah, that.” Dion agreed. His hands moved as he spoke and paced around, and it was utterly fascinating, even as his words kept coming out stream-of-consciousness style. “So I keep seeing this mountain, and it’s so familiar, like an itch in the back of my mind, yanno? So I start digging through our old albums, because I swear I’ve seen this mountain somewhere before, and I know it’s important, so I kept searching and—”

“And then you found it?” Gisu asked, trying not to let too much fondness creep into her voice. A little bit is okay, but it’s too early to be getting sappy.

“Yeah!” Dion nodded emphatically, once again by the desk and tapping the photo. “It doesn’t look exactly the same but I know that that’s the one. That’s the mountain that Raz is going to.” He looked at Gisu with so much intensity that she thought he might burst, and said, “I keep feeling like I need to go there.”

Gisu leaned back in her chair. “Do you?”

“Yes!” Dion threw his hands in the air. “No? I don’t know!” He paced a small half-circle, “But that’s where Raz is. Is going. I’m sure of it!” He turned to Gisu once again. “I don’t know what to do about this.” He admitted. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to tell.”

“Well, I think—” Gisu stretched, getting out of her chair. “—that what happens next is obvious.”

“Really?’ Dion lit up. “I knew you’d know what to do! You’re really smart like that.” His face flushed, and Gisu had to take a moment to fight off the butterflies in her stomach and the heat on her own face.

“Yeah.” She smirked, grabbing Dion’s wrist. She started pulling him back towards the door.

“We’re going on a field trip!”

+=+=+=+=+

Three huffed as he leaped up over a boulder, his levball making the jump easier than climbing up by hand. Even still, this was exhausting.

But it needed to be done. He only had a little bit further to go, anyway—it had taken him a week just to get this far, and the sun had long set behind him, and he couldn’t waste anymore time.

Really, though, did Ms. Naumann have to build her lab halfway up a mountain? Three had his levball to help, but this was ridiculous.

Still, there was nothing Three could do. He just had to get there, and make everything right. So he’d do it, even if it was tiring.

He had to.

+=+=+=+=+

“I think we made pretty good time!’ Gisu chirped. And really, they kind of did. Five days to make a trip spanning across a few states—thank god for comprehensive bus routes. And her levboard. Couldn’t forget how important her baby was to this whole operation.

“I’m still not sure how you convinced me to go along with this.” Dion muttered, staring up at the mountain looming before them, the sunlight behind him casting his face in shadow. “Or why we’re doing this alone.”

“Because it’s faster that way.” Gisu offered, already setting up her board. Sure, they could have a nice little hike up the trails, but they were here on a mission. Raz had a two-day headstart—they couldn’t waste time. “C’mon.” She held out her hand, and Dion took it. Grumbling under his breath but joining her on the levboard regardless. “Let’s go find Pooter.”

+=+=+=+=+

Three crawled through the vents as quietly as he could. Benefit of the lab being half-underground, he supposed—the vents themselves were surrounded by solid rock, making them more than capable of supporting his weight.

So he crawled along, his mental link with Four helping him navigate to the bunks without issue. It took a while, and he had to wiggle a bit to get through some of the tighter turns, but he made it.

The room the clones all slept in was halfway into a natural cavern, of sorts, with a large open space above the beams holding up the lights. Three telekinetically undid the screws on the vent cover, and quietly removed the panel, holding it in the air to keep it from clattering on the ground. He crawled out onto the bunk bed directly below it, the top cot softening the impact. Once he was clear, he replaced the vent cover, but set the screws to the side—this would be his exit.

“Three?” Four’s voice cut through the room—the lights were off, right now, but Three could already feel his brother’s mental presence beginning to surge.

“Four!” Three practically lunged for his brother, his arms wrapping around Four’s shoulders with all the strength he had. I missed you I’m so happy to see you again I missed you I missed you I missed you

“Three!” Four returned the hug, pulses of missed-you and ribbons of golden elation flowing through their connection. I missed you I’m so glad you’re safe I missed you I missed you I missed you

Eventually, Three pulled back. His face crumpled, his eyes stung, and he slammed his face back into the crook of his brother’s neck. “I missed you.” He murmured, his thoughts echoing the notion.

“I missed you too.” Four returned, echoing back the same. He pulled back. “You gotta be quick,” he started. “Ms. Naumann’s been acting really weird lately.”

Three took a breath. Right. No more tears—mission now, sad later. “Weird how?”

Four winced. “Like she’s scared of something.” He mumbled. “I think…” He tried again, “She told me to call you back in a few days. I think… I think she’s going to terminate us.”

Three’s blood ran cold. The world pressed in on him, crushing weight squeezing all the air from his lungs—

Three scowled. “That’s not going to happen.” He declared. “We’re going to get Six and Raz and we’re going to get out of here.” He was done being scared of Ms. Naumann. She was wrong. She was wrong and Three felt none of the respect he’d had for her. She was wrong.

Four nodded. “It’s this way—” he started—

Something fell from the beams above to the floor beside them with a thud and a grunt, making Three and Four flinch back in surprise. The figure uncurled, groaning as it stood—

“Wh—how did you get here?” Three whisper-shouted. “Why are you here?!” Of all the—for the sake of—really? Of all the people who could have somehow followed him, it was Dion?

“Raz.” Dion started, “You have ten seconds to explain—” He stopped short, his eyes darting between Three and Four.

“Why are there two of you?” Dion’s voice went up a few notches, grating against Three’s ears. He was looking back and forth between the two of them, confusion leaching off of him in waves.

Three put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Look, Dion, I promise I’ll explain everything later.” He said, trying to ignore the way Four was starting to vibrate next to him. “When we have time.” He promised. “But I need you to not mess everything up right now—”

“Uh uh.” Dion interrupted, hands on his hips. “No way. I’m not doing anything until you explain yourself.”

“We don’t have time—” Three insisted, gritting his teeth. Why couldn’t he have been followed by someone with sense, like Frazie? Frazie was cool.

“I’m not hearing an explanation.” Dion hissed. “So I’ll ask again: What the fuck is going on here?!” he demanded—

“I find myself wondering the exact same thing.”

Three froze. Dion’s eyes were wide as he stared at the doorway behind Three. Oh no. Oh no.

Three turned around slowly, like the air around him was suddenly full of glue. Oh no no no.

None other than Ms. Naumann stood there, her lips pressed into a thin line. All of Three’s resolve dissolved under her gaze, like a wadded up napkin being tossed into the trash. Oh no.

“And who are you?” Ms. Naumann turned her attention to Dion, who looked as much like a deer in headlights as Three and Four felt.

“...very confused.” Dion admitted.

Ms. Naumann raised a hand to the bridge of her nose. “Right.” She sighed. Her hand moved to her temple, her look of resignation turning to one of concentration.

Three yelped in surprise as an arm wrapped around him, lifting into the air in a single burst of motion. Ms. Naumann shot a psi-blast, and Dion ducked under it to slide out the open door behind her, not once losing momentum even as he leapt up into a run, Three and Four tucked against his sides.

“Which way do I go?” Dion demanded, as Ms. Naumann’s footsteps echoed behind them.

“Left!” Four shouted, even as Three’s head spun trying to remember the layout. Dion skidded to a near-halt at the next intersection, deftly using his shed momentum to pivot into a turn to the left. “I still want an explanation!” He nearly screeched, following Four’s directions to duck to the right.

“Later!” Three reminded him. He squirmed in Dion’s arm until he was facing backwards, watching as Ms. Naumann came up behind them. “She’s gaining!” He shouted, and Dion picked up the pace.

“Do something then!” Dion made another turn, his grip on Three and Four tightening to keep them from slipping free.

Right! Three concentrated, lining up his shot—

Ms. Naumann’s eyes widened in surprise as Three fired. She ducked to the side, and the shot only grazed her—but she ended up stopping entirely, so Three still allowed himself a moment of silent victory. He was useful! Another shot brought down a light fixture, blocking her path. Even more useful!

Dion slid to a halt, the sudden stop jarring to Three. He squirmed, trying to see what had brought them to a halt—

“How do I open this?” Dion demanded, and Three managed to turn around entirely. They were blocked by a door—the playroom door, it looked like.

“Get me to that keypad.” Four said, and Dion moved to hold him up in front of it. Four tapped in the code—

Four hissed and pulled back his hand. “Dammit.” He muttered. “She changed it again.”

“Language.” Dion snapped. Three stuck out his tongue. Who was Dion to decide if his brother could swear? “Hurry up,” Dion added. “I don’t like how quiet it is right now.”

“I’m trying.” Four shot back, trying another code. Another angry beep as the pad flashed red. “Ugh, she changes them way too often.” He grumbled, moving to try another one.

Probably because someone’s just a little too clever. Three suggested, trying to squirm out of Dion’s grip. Four ignored his comment in favor of focusing on the keypad.

“Uh uh.” Dion adjusted his hold on Three. “You’re not going anywhere until we’re out of this mess.”

Three crossed him arms. He really wished it was Frazie who had followed him. How did Dion even find him?

“How did you even find me? You were out on the floor when I left.” Three poked Dion’s side.

“You’re the one who practically showed me where you were going.” Dion muttered, like it was somehow Three’s fault that he’d shown up to mess everything up.

Which… maybe it was, now that Three thought about it. He hadn’t even touched Dion when he’d sent him flying—if it was a burst of unfocused psychic power, then it probably ended up pushing Three’s thoughts into Dion’s head. Whoops.

Four hissed at another failed attempt. Dion tapped his foot against the floor impatiently. Footsteps echoed down the hall. Three gasped. “Ms. Naumann!”

“Okay, time to go!” Dion decided, pulling away from the door.

“Wh—no!” Four shouted. “Six is in there!”

“We’re not leaving him behind!” Three added, “Him or Raz!”

Dion froze. “What—”

The world tilted, and Three fell to the floor. He had only a moment to catch his breath before a telekinetic grasp grabbed ahold of him, too, lifting him up into the air to join a struggling Dion and Four.

“That’s enough of that.” Ms. Naumann declared, already turning on her heel. The hands followed after her, dragging the three of them along through the air.

“Well.” Four muttered, “shit.”

+=+=+=+=+

Well, shit. Gisu scooted further into the shadows. She and Dion had only found Raz—though apparently he was going by Three?—by chance, and then Dion had fallen down into the room the moment he spotted his brother. Who was greeting a second Raz.

And now this lady had showed up, and Dion had grabbed both Razzes and ran. Gisu had no idea how far he’d get, but she didn’t want to get caught, either.

Something that the Not-Razzes had mentioned caught in her mind, and she regarded the door carefully. Six and Raz? Did that mean that there were more Pooters here?

Well, it was as good a lead as any. Gisu levitated down to the floor, and poked her head out the still-open door.

The hallway was empty. Probably.

Carefully, Gisu crept out, holding her board tight against her side. If she concentrated, she could faintly feel Dion’s mind a ways away, frustration ebbing in and out of his mental signal. She wasn’t good enough with telepathy to hold a full conversation with him, though—she was too used to the person on the other end being psychic. Adam could probably hold a connection with seven people all on his own, and Morris was also pretty good at long-range communication—

But Adam and Morris weren’t here. Just Gisu and Dion.

Gisu huffed, casting her mind out further. She didn’t want to alert the scientist lady to her presence, but there had to be something she could use—

Aha! Her mind caught on something. On another mind—

…which reached back. Who are you? They demanded, their presence like waves crashing against Gisu’s mind.

Trying to help. Gisu responded, raising a hand to her temple to track down the other mind.

Like you could help me, the voice scoffed. Okay, rude. You just want Raz, anyway.

Yeah, that was what Gisu was confused about. Why are there so many of you?

The other end was quiet, for a moment, then—there used to be one more. But he’s gone now. A deep sense of melancholy washed over Gisu like waves washing over the sand. For a moment, she almost felt like sand, slowly being pulled into the depths of the anguish bit by bit.

Gisu shook her head to snap herself out of it. I’m sorry. She responded, that sucks.

Tell me something I don’t know. The other mind snarked. But really, why are you here?

Gisu concentrated on everything that had happened in the past several days. The birthday, the breakdown, Not-Raz running off, her and Dion’s chase to reach the mountain before him… as far as explanations went, it was probably really cluttered, a mix of feelings and memories and desires all packaged up into a bundle, with a lot of the needed context missing. But it was what Gisu had to work with.

… The other end was silent for a moment. Then—

A schematic—no, a layout appeared in Gisu’s mind, with a path highlighted in bright blue. Go here, it seemed to say, without saying anything at all.

Gisu followed the path, keeping an eye out for any wandering scientists. How she managed to get around without getting caught, she had no idea—

But she was doing it, which was good. She could worry about the potential implications of being able to seemingly run rampant later.

She came up on a metal door with a keypad to the side. It was flashing, the tiny screen above it saying something about failed attempts. But Gisu only grinned and pulled out her mini-screwdrivers—time to get to work. Pry off the cover, then the pad itself to get at the wires… snip those two wires and join them together…

The door slid open a few moments later. “Ha!” Gisu put away her tools, “Am I good, or am I good?” That was easy. Almost too easy, but Gisu was too busy riding the high of her success to care.

The room she stepped into was larger than the first one, with a small swingset installed at the other end. Mats covered the floor, there was a balance beam—

And there, sitting next to a slide and curled up under the steps, were two more Razzes, regarding Gisu with mild suspicion.

“Okay, which one of you is Pooter?” Gisu twirled her board in her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The Raz under the slide pointed at himself. “I’m the original.” He said, his voice scratchy and tired-sounding.

“Six.” The other said, leaning against the red plastic.

“Right.” Gisu nodded. She had no idea what that meant—she could guess, though—but that wasn’t important. What was important was getting Dion and the other two and getting out of here. She slapped her palms together. “Time for us to blow this joint!” She declared.

“You mean it?” Raz asked, staring at Gisu with wide eyes. “We’re getting out of here?”

Gisu nodded. “Yeah!” She frowned. “Well, not without Dion,” She amended, “Or the other two.”

Raz blinked. “Dion’s here?” He stood up. “He’s not—he’s not still mad at me for running away, right? I can kind of see what the other mes see, but…” He trailed off, staring at the floor.

“He asked me to help troubleshoot his apology.” Gisu said flatly. “And I’m still missing a lot of the context here, by the way.”

“Oh.” Raz’ mouth worked, for a moment, as he looked for the words. “I ran away,” he started, “And I made it to Whispering Rock…” He contemplated, for a moment, before skipping ahead, “The other me and me swapped places at the Rhombus of Ruin.” He said.

“Oh.” Gisu clutched her board a little tighter. That was—oh. Suddenly, the exhaustion smeared under his eyes looked even more sad and pathetic, like a wet kitten alone in a box after all of the other kittens had been taken. Oh, this poor kid.

These poor kids, Gisu realized, looking at Six. She had heard Not-Raz respond to Three, and he’d called the other Four…

She had never heard anything about a One, Two, or Five.

“Well, this is your lucky day,” she decided, “Because you’re getting out of here. All of you.” Raz perked up at her statement. Good.

“It’s too late.” Six stated. “Three and Four got caught. They’re probably already on their way to being terminated.” He scoffed. “I’ll probably be next.”

Gisu swallowed. That… didn’t sound good. “We’ve still got to do something,” She urged.

Raz nodded, turning to Six. “Don’t you want to see the ocean?” He asked, “Because this might be your one chance.”

Six stared at Raz for a long moment. He scowled. “That’s not fair.” He muttered, standing up to join Gisu and Raz. “You can’t just use my weakness against me.” Still, he was no longer sitting next to the slide, so Gisu counted that as a win.

“C’mon,” She urged. “Let’s go kick that lady’s—”

“Ms. Naumann.” Six interjected.

“Okay.” Gisu started again. “Let’s go kick Ms. Naumann’s butt!”

+=+=+=+=+

Three had never been in this room before. There was a large glass tube—that Three and Four were immediately dumped into—and a control panel that took up most of the space, making the whole place feel cramped. Dion was set down in the only open space on the floor, hands cuffed behind him, and the door wasn’t able to slide shut with him sitting so close to it. He wasn’t conscious—Ms. Naumann had used a burst of mental pressure to knock him out when she drew blood. Three looked away from the bandage in the crook of his arm.

Three had never been in this room before. He could guess at what it was, though. His hands pressed against the glass while his heart threatened to pound right out of his chest—

Twin screams lighting up the shared headspace, hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt HURT—

“Please.” Three tried. Four leaned against him, his weight and his mind a steadying presence, but he may as well have been trying to steady a wobbling tower of cards on a rocking boat in the middle of a storm.

Okay, so that metaphor was wordy. Three was allowed to be wordy, he felt, when there was death looming over him.

“I can see this project isn’t working out.” Ms. Naumann muttered. “Perhaps I’ll have to put it on pause… or maybe taking up a second project will give me some much-needed variety.” She regarded Three and Four for a long moment, her cool gaze betraying not even a hint of the anger that Three could feel leaching off of her.

“You did well.” She said, reaching for the panel. “But I see you’ve been let loose for too long.” Her words sounded too practiced to be sincere, even though she would have only had to say anything. “I will make this as painless as possi—”

“Hey.”

As one, Three, Four, and Ms. Naumann turned their attention to the open doorway, where Dion was still unconscious to the side. Standing next to him was none other than Six, regarding Ms. Naumann with a blank expression.

Ms. Naumann returned to the control panel. “Return to the playroom, Subject Six.” She ordered. “This isn’t a place for clones.”

“No.” Six said, staring her down.

Ms. Naumann paused, turning to look at Six directly. “No?”

“No.” Six repeated, raising his hands.

Ms. Naumann’s voice cut off with a gasp as she fell to the floor, her whole body trembling. Six’ brow furrowed as he stepped forwards, his hands outstretched. “You’re an awful mother.” He declared. “And we don’t like you!” He swept his arms to the side, and Ms. Naumann slammed against the wall with a wheeze. Six’ arms dropped. Ms. Naumann fell to the floor.

“Dion!” And then Raz was in the room, standing next to Dion and fussing—

“Let’s get you out of there.” And there was Gisu, since when was Gisu here, staring at the control panel for a moment before slamming her fist down on one of the buttons.

Three flinched—

The tube opened up. Oh. Oh, thank god.

Three and Four wasted no time in making their way out of there, standing next to Gisu. The room was getting really crowded, now, there was barely any room for anyone to move around—

“You.” Ms. Naumann was already pushing herself up. “You insolen—”

A pair of shiny metal handcuffs thwacked off of her head, clattering to the floor. Three turned back to see Dion standing, muttering curses under his breath as he rubbed at the base of his thumb. “And stay down.” He added.

Ms. Naumann did not stay down. She hissed, and before Gisu or Six could do anything to stop her, she spoke. “Initiate System Shutdown, voice code 4-18-4-25-4.”

Alarms started blaring. Ms. Naumann disappeared with a pop, leaving them all crowded in that tiny room.

“Time to get out of here!” Gisu declared. Raz launched himself at Dion, who scooped up Four and Three in his arms once again. Gisu threw down her board, grabbed Six, and hopped on—Dion hopped on next. “Which way?”

“Down that hall, then take a right!” Four instructed, as Gisu’s levboard rocketed off down the halls. “Now left!” Three had to grab Dion’s vest to avoid falling off as Gisu turned—this was so much worse than when Dion had been running. But with the countdown blaring over their heads, Three didn’t have it in himself to say anything.

“And out that door!” Four pointed. But the door was closed!

Gisu raised her hand and pointed with two fingers. Lightning blasted out down the hall, hitting the door just moments before her levboard got there—

Her board flew out into open air, leaving the smoke from the blasted door behind them. The hidden lab rumbled, the whole mountain seeming to shake—

The whole world spun, Three tumbling right out of Dion’s grip as the board was flung forwards. He tumbled through the air and into the undergrowth, rolling across the ground before coming to a stop.

The sky was a brilliant shade of orange above him. Morning already?

Fuck, he was exhausted. The world was still spinning, a bit, and he could hear everyone shouting or groaning as they picked themselves up. Four was okay, though, and Raz was out—that was all that mattered.

With a tired groan, Three let his eyes slip closed.

[shyheartfawn]

i am honestly havjng such a hard time. last christmas / new yrs was very traumatic for me and this is obviously my first december since. everything feels so hard. i cant stop remembering things and i dont have the time to just sit and recover from any of it.

[incendiorum-arch]

io's hard (to say the least) to romantically ship with so I thought I'd make a post talking about it. io has a very specific type. innocence, pacifism, and positivity will never attract them (in fact, it's very likely to do the opposite). io desires confidence and deadliness above all else. someone who can kill, who can hurt, and despite their feelings on the matter, can, would, and most likely will do it again. people who have trauma tend to appeal to them more, too - as often those people understand why io might act the way they do. to sum it up, io is attracted to people who have gray morals. skewed morals. people who can embrace violence, whether they like it or not. although... io does tend to favor those who like it. [don't be terribly discouraged though, as lucius did not like embracing violence but io loved him beyond words.] I would also like to mention really quickly here that io is also attracted to banter/snark/sass, fiery personalities, and powerful (physically/magically) people. strength of character is something that is fantastic at catching their eye.

speaking of trauma - io carries a shitton of it. they were abused mentally, emotionally, and physically by their parents for 23 years. eighteen centuries has done a whole lot in terms of trying to recover, but io still deals with fits of anger, dissociation, and flashbacks. they're also extremely dependent on alcohol (high functioning alcoholic) and despite their desire to quit, will not seek the help needed for it. love and trust do not go hand in hand with io. like I've said I hate to say it but I genuinely think io is incapable of 100% trust. I trust you... is always followed by the ultimatum, as much as I can. io's concept of trust has been irreparably shattered. there is no fitting the pieces back together no matter how badly either party want it. asking io do you trust me? is perhaps the worst question you could ask. you don't want to hear the answer, unless you're willing to accept io's reasoning. io also does not experience romantic attraction immediately, and when they do finally experience it, it's very rare and only in an already established relationship - they're demiromantic. now you might be going, hey adair where's the good stuff? love and trust do not go hand in hand, yes. but io loves hard. they can easily fall into devotion to an unhealthy degree. they want to help their partner, they want to comfort, they want to cook meals and share kisses and embrace every bit of physical affection they can. inter mundos becomes something that io can use to show their partner the world. week-long vacations wherever they want to go. dinner in another country. io embraces violence. io likes it. they'll fight tooth and nail for their partner. io lets their softer, more playful side show around partners. their humor may be deadpan, but there'll certainly be more of it. they embrace their childish side and let it show around loved ones because they know they can expect acceptance. joining them in childish pursuits only makes their love grow. io's own trauma lends them experience and intimate understanding for those who do have it. this doesn't take away the fact that sometimes things hurt and lashing out at them upsets and hurts them but... they get it? they will, most likely, end up doing the same thing at some point or another (when they don't immediately leap to self isolation). io will always come back and apologize, though. in short, io is complicated and hard to be with. they have enough baggage to fill an entire plane's luggage compartment and then some. but god, they love with every ounce of their being.