Forever Home

It’s time to check in on little Oscar again. He’s had such a rough time of late. I should also note that my plans suggest only two more updates after Forever Home. We’re nearing the end of the Unnamed Sad Oscar AU that swept us all up in the feels.

( x )

Oscar squirmed uncomfortably, but he didn’t dare struggle as much as he wanted to. Trapped in a hand, he wouldn’t have anywhere to go if he were to escape. More than that, his training still rang loudly in his memory despite how long it had been.

Weeks, maybe months, had gone by. Oscar had been “adopted,” so the humans liked to call it. He knew what that really meant.

He was theirs. Their own living doll, a pet to hold and play with whenever they wished.

The man who’d paid for him insisted that he was a family pet, but Charlotte always insisted otherwise. The woman of the house, home more often than not, Oscar saw her more than any other human in his life. The afternoons all ran together, and one day was no different from the next. This one was looking to be the same.

“Oh, my darling little Ollie,” Charlotte cooed as she lifted him up towards her face. He still didn’t have the courage to correct her.

Her other hand appeared, with one finger extended. Oscar pursed his lips and held in a squeak as she petted his messy hair. Each stroke strained his neck and tilted his head back. His eyes were wide, and she smiled at him. She thought it was cute to pet him that way. He wasn’t allowed to tell her that it hurt.

“Mummy has a gift for you, are you excited?” Charlotte prompted.

Oscar winced. Unlike Noriko, the last human to treat him like her favorite doll, Charlotte really did expect an answer from him. He’d learned quickly that she became more dismissive of him if he didn’t answer, and when Charlotte became dismissive, she became careless. He’d bruised himself against his doll table when she discarded him in his cage the first time he found out.

He waited until his head was tilted back under her rough influence and he could meet her gaze. “Y-yes,” he squeaked out. “I’m-I’m excited.”

It didn’t sound convincing to him. Oscar could only hear the dread in his voice, the dread that built up in him like a shield against the terror of every day since he’d been captured.

Charlotte only heard what she wanted to hear. She squealed with delight, and Oscar’s world lurched as she held him close to her chest in a hug. The necklace she wore nearly tangled around him.

Another lurch as she held him in front of her again. Oscar didn’t have a chance to find his bearings before her thumb shifted against his chest and pushed him upwards in her grasp. He squeaked and shut his eyes tight, but somehow she didn’t drop him. His entire upper body was free to the open air now. It felt like he could topple over at any second.

He didn’t. Instead, Charlotte’s hand returned and pinched at the hem of his doll shirt. It was a thick, clumsily-made thing, pale blue and a stark contrast to the drab colors he’d always made himself. It wouldn’t blend in anywhere.

With a deft upward tug, it came off. It forced Oscar’s arms straight up as Charlotte took it away from him before he was ready. He nearly caught his chin on the collar, but he’d become used to this sort of thing long ago. The less he resisted it, the less likely he was to twist something or get hurt.

He didn’t see where the old shirt was tossed once it was removed. With a shudder, Oscar eyed Charlotte’s other hand as it disappeared into one of her pockets. His chest was bare to the air, but his shivering wasn’t from the cold.

“Ohhh, poor Ollie,” she cooed. Her hand emerged, but it closed in a fist around whatever she had in store for him. Instead, she poked at Oscar’s stomach with one manicured nail, and he cringed back. “You still need to try to eat more, sweetie. I’ll be sure to bring you some treats after dinner.”

There was a pause, and Oscar shuddered again. He ate better in captivity than he ever had in his whole life on his own, but it didn’t feel like a victory. His constant fear ensured it.

“Um. Th-thanks. Thank you,” he stammered out.

He had remembered himself just in time. Charlotte smiled wide. “You’re welcome, Oliver. Now, arms up?”

She held up the item she’d retrieved from her pocket at last. The new shirt was darker than the last one, but still not enough for Oscar to hide anywhere. The cloth looked softer, at least, but there was a strange diamond pattern on the front. Charlotte’s proud smile was a backdrop to the ugly thing, and she shook the shirt in what she probably thought was an enticing fashion.

Oscar sighed. He couldn’t smile. He’d never smiled for her, no matter how much she tried to coax it out of him. Instead, he put his arms up and forward like she’d asked. It was the best he could do.

This time, at least, it was enough. Charlotte adjusted her grip on the shirt (so small in her hand, but oversized for Oscar) and brought it close. Oscar put his arms into the bottom and ducked his head as she pulled it over him. He scrambled quickly to find the sleeves, and his hands slipped through the fabric just in time for the collar to settle over his head. His hair became even wilder when his head popped free.

He didn’t have any resistance in him even if he wanted to squirm away while Charlotte fussed at the hem and the sleeves of his new shirt. She made sure it settled over his waist and wasn’t too short (it wasn’t) and even checked to see if the sleeves were too long for him (they were).

Eventually, she was satisfied, and she bounced on her feet. Oscar braced himself the best he could against her hand, and then his body bowed over as she moved him once again. This time, he was close to her face.

“You look adorable, Ollie,” she cooed. Oscar could see his reflection in her eyes. His brow was pinched with worry and his knuckles were white as he braced his hands.

Adorable. All the humans who ever called him that only brought out the “compliment” when he was terrified of them.

He winced as he moved yet again, this time closer to Charlotte’s lips. Oscar turned his head to the side and went rigid as she kissed him, an unwanted and inevitable show of her so-called love for him. His reward for being cute in her eyes. It was no different from Noriko, except perhaps how careful Noriko used to be.

When he lowered next, Oscar finally saw the opening into his cage approaching. He sighed with relief, even as the hand around him dove into the dollhouse-prison and deposited him on a miniature couch. At least in there he was away from human hands, though with the glass front on the dollhouse and its many rooms, he was never truly away from human eyes.

Charlotte gave him one last indulgent smile as she latched the door closed, and Oscar sighed. Her footsteps rattled through the floor as she retreated, and he felt every one but didn’t care.

Lying his head back in defeat on the doll’s couch, Oscar stared up at the ceiling of his forever home and wondered how long “forever” was supposed to be.

May 28th excerpt:

“I wouldn’t call it short,” Dean said easily. “I’d say you’re just size-deficient.” He planted the tip of his index finger on Jacob’s chest and gently pushed him back towards the tape measure. He wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Based on the way Jacob was fighting against it, there wouldn’t be many chances to get his sizes for future clothing when Dean managed to find a store that sold more than just cheap barbie clothes. Maybe he’d get lucky and find a store geared just towards dolls. It might be more expensive but it would be worth it.

At the sight of Jacob’s exasperated struggles, Dean let out a small sigh and took slight pity on him. “Okay, how about this. I don’t even have to tell you how tall you are.”

No More Wishes


Sorry, folks. Laughter may sound like a nice prompt, but the only thing that came to me was more sad Oscar. If I have to think of this stuff, so do you ;P

There was laughter in the other room.

Oscar looked up from where he sat curled up on his bed, startled by the sudden burst of noise. Noriko was watching TV out there, enjoying her favorite show. Oscar never knew what made her laugh so much, but so long as it kept her attention away from him for a while, he liked it. Whenever Noriko paid him attention, she wanted to hold him in her hands constantly, poking at him or petting his messy hair.

He hated it. He hated it so much, but he knew better than to think things would ever be any different. Oscar was just her newest favorite doll.

His prison proved it. When Noriko was bored with him, she put him away in a wooden box with a glass front, all designed to look like a room in a house. A dollhouse with him on display at all times.

In one corner there was a round cushion, meant to be his bed. There was a doll couch facing the front glass wall, and to the side opposite the bed was a table and a chair. The walls themselves were decorated with cheap patterned paper. Oscar wished he could find an escape through that tattered wallpaper like he could in a real room.

Instead, he could only lounge around in the miniature room, staring sullenly through the glass front wall. The room beyond was the very same one where he’d tried to make his escape under the floorboards those weeks ago. He knew better now. Every entrance he might fight to the walls could be a trap, and it wasn’t worth getting hurt again.

His ankle had only just healed, and the memory of the pain it caused him made him curl up tighter on his cushion.

Noriko laughed again in the other room.

Oscar had no idea how many people like him had spent time in that workroom. Noriko made a hobby of them, measuring them for clothes that she made herself. She played with them by corralling them between her hands, watching them try to get past. Oscar knew because it was her favorite game with him.

Even now, he wore a new outfit made for him by her delicate sewing work. It was more cumbersome than the clothes he always made for himself, but those had been too ratty, she said. Too plain. Oscar had watched his hard work get thrown out in the trash after she made him change.

It was a good fit, but the fabric was thicker than he was used to. Oscar found it stiff and unwieldy, hard to move around. It worked well for the humans keeping him captive.

He shifted where he sat, turning away from that depressing glass wall. Even though he knew Noriko would be back at least one more time before going to bed herself, he lay down on his cushion. Teary eyes traced the simple pattern on the wallpaper until it blurred and he had to blink.

Oscar wasn’t hungry anymore. He wasn’t cold or desperate for supplies anymore. He had someone around that seemed to care, in her own terrifying way, when he was injured or scared. These were all things that he thought he wanted.

If this was how his prayers were answered, he didn’t want to wish for anything ever again.

What Castiel can or can’t do will have to wait for his appearance in the stories, if and when he comes. Can’t be giving away trade secrets, after all 🙂

But as for a new journal and new clothes, Sam has both of these things. In A Schism of Fire and Water, Sam was given a journal from Dean for his birthday (just because it’s made for a dollhouse doesn’t mean it isn’t useful), and Krissy made him new clothing that Walt and the others gave him.