AN: Okay, so . . . This will be a very disturbing fanfiction. Not for the weak of heart. There will be some funny parts in it, but seriously. This is about child molestation. Why? Because no one ever wants to talk about it, but it's a real thing. The song "Dirty Night Clowns" by Chris Garneau was the deal-sealer for me to make this, the idea being in my head for a while. It's a matter I am very close with (which explains a lot about how I turned out when I grew up), so it's not as if I know nothing about the subject. And sorry if people freak out over my character choices. Clowns, though. Kinda . . . The one option. *cough* Anyway, that was my warning. I'm not trying to discourage people from reading. Just discouraging ignorance. This chapter has nothing heavy in it, but yeah. It's not supposed to be adorable or kinky. It's . . . Pretty messed up. I'm sorry if this brings anything up from the past for some people. You have my sympathy and my heart, and you can PM me if you want to talk to someone about it. I won't turn anyone away for whatever reason. I'm sorry. Stay strong.

-Aviss

Pick me up, hose me down.

I'm sorry, boys, about the dirty night clowns.

"No, Mama! I don't wanna go to school!"

Porrim Maryam sighed roughly and pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd never had any problems with her sweet boy before, aside from the occasional disagreement leading to a very unscary-actually-kind-of-cute glare on his part and a small smile on hers. Karkat was the perfect child, really, and she loved him dearly, but she didn't exactly like his attitude right then.

She'd told him he'd be going to school last week, and he acted like he was all about it, but now . . . The boy had been hiding from his mother in strange places, and she was trying to get him out from behind the fridge with bribes and a spray bottle full of water. She always thought she was a good mother. But maybe she'd keep this incident to herself so her friends won't judge her too harshly and continue hating her for her kids loving her, having a rocking body, and making a lot of money.

"Baby," she cooed sweetly, tossing the bottle aside and forcing her breath to even out. "Your sister goes to school. Don't you want to be a big boy and go to school like Kanaya?"

His sister was his weak spot. He'd do anything to be like her. She was ten years older than he was, and he admired her so much for her maturity, smarts, and endless talent. Of course, he had no idea that she was human and had flaws like everyone else; he only saw her as God and she could do no wrong. Just then, Kanaya popped up beside her mother and leaned over the counter to see her baby brother behind the fridge.

"Oh, Karkat, it's filthy back there," she said softly, holding out a hand for him to grab. "How about we get you bathed and dressed and ready for school? You'll like it. I promise."

Immediately, the boy was throwing himself upon her arm and clinging to it for dear life as she pulled him from the depths of kitchen hell. Porrim thanked her daughter and skipped to start a bath for the little snot that was her offspring. She adored her children more than anything, but her weak spot was the many expressions of her son. He was the spitting image of her husband, but was so much more expressive than Kankri. While her spouse more or less kept his emotions shut in, Karkat let one know just what he thought by a raise of his eyebrows, a short grimace, or the widening and narrowing of his eyes. He didn't like to talk all that much, but that had no effect on whether or not you could determine his response due to such an array of facial functions.

It took all of Porrim's willpower not to giggle insanely at her son's adorable glare as she rinsed his hair off in the tub. The little splash of freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose did nothing to help his attempt at ferociousness. He wasn't pleased that his sister had already left to go to her high school and that he was "trapped" in his mother's care. He focused on his mom's tattoos in an attempt to ignore the evil bath around him. They were black and swirly, along her arms and chest, somehow elongating her body in an almost magical way. He'd always liked them, and was surprised when he found out that not all people have them. At least all of the beautiful girls had to have them, right? Nope. And that destroyed his world for a few days as he questioned his life choices and debated drinking. Not that that would help because milk just doesn't cut it anymore, and juice was no different. He didn't see the appeal, honestly. They just made his stomach hurt when he drank too much.

Another thing that always fascinated him was his mother's piercings. When he was a baby, he liked to pull on the ones in her eyebrows, and the one on her bottom lip still feels weird when she kisses him. It didn't really bother him, but he was also crushed by the knowledge that not everyone wanted piercings or even liked them. He was pretty pissed when his mother told him that not everyone thinks she's pretty, either. The hell she wasn't! She was the prettiest woman ever, and he was proud she was his mom. Not that he really liked her all the much when it came to bath time. He didn't flail or throw a fit like some children, but he knew she got the hint when he narrowed his eyes and twitched his nose a little in disgust at the situation. He didn't like to be dirty, no, but he didn't like to be nude in front of anyone, not even his mother. Especially not his father. That was always so awkward.

He held his breath as the spray of water from the shower head got in his face and shook his head as the water ran down from his forehead to his chin. He hated that part. But that meant it was over and he unplugged the tub and yanked the towel from Porrim's well-manicured hands to cover his boyhood disdainfully, demanding she turn around so he could dry off. She raised her hands defensively, said a strained, "Yes, sir!" and left to get his clothes.

She waited patiently outside the door for him to allow her back in and dressed him in a gray and black striped sweater and thick black pants. She made a note to make more winter clothes for her son, as he'd almost outgrown all that she'd already made for him. She was quite proud of her work. She made all the clothes for her entire family and they always looked so wonderful and well put together. She had a few careers and plenty of experience. She was a model, a clothes designer and maker, and a cosmetologist. When she was younger, she was an escort. Though her family told her she should be ashamed of such a thing, she only stopped because she met her husband in such a business, and that was how she afforded her schooling and housing and other various living expenses. She often wondered if she should tell her children about it one day, but decided she'd wait. A long time. Like, on her death bed long. Maybe. Eh.

"Mama, why can't you just homeschool me?" Karkat whimpered in the hall, sitting down against the wall and looking over his math book. Kindergarten got a lot harder since Porrim was a kid, she noted. So many new rules.

She sighed and slid down the wall next to her baby, looking over his shoulder to make sure he understood just what he was doing. "Darling, I'm so busy with work, as is your father, and I honestly don't have the patience to repeatedly go over things with anyone. Plus, when you get older, I'll have no idea how to do the things I'm supposed to be teaching you. Calculus was a drunken couple of decades ago."

The boy chuffed slightly and rolled his eyes. "You homeschooled Kanaya."

"Only for a few years, love. We were a lot less busy then."

Her son shook his head and read off all of the problems and answers on the two pages he was on perfectly, and shut the book dramatically, tossing it to his side and hitting his head against the wall behind him. "This is stupid . . ."

Porrim looked at her beloved sadly, not wanting him to leave her side and enter the dangerous world of public domain without her. She trusted no one. She knew how people were. And school was so shitty for her that she didn't want either of her kids to go. But they needed to be socialized and she made it a point to take them out if they told her they wanted to leave. On another hand, she hated to see her precious baby boy sad for any reason. So she did what any mother would do in that situation: Tickle fight.

"Ah! Mom! Stooop!"

She tickled his sides and neck and feet like a mad woman, making various scary beast noises and laughing maniacally as her son pleaded and begged for her to take his life instead. Yeah, definitely her husband's son. Such drama. When he hit the point where she was sure he'd pee himself, she heard a slam from the other side of the wall and they both stopped what they were doing and stared at the light green paint on the barrier like they could see through it.

"Would you two shut up, please? I'm trying to do work here."

Porrim rolled her eyes and winked at the almost terrified kid beneath her, calling out, "Ah, yes, Massah! My apologies. I won't be doing it again, Massah. Please don't whip me no more!"

"Haw-haw. Really, what are you teaching our son, dear?"

The tall woman giggled at her husband's retorts and banged on the wall obnoxiously for a full minute before grabbing her son and carrying him bridal style to the living room to put on shoes and a coat and walking outside to wait for the bus with his bag in tow.

"Remember these words, my love," she said seriously, holding the boy by the shoulders and looking into his scarlet eyes. "School is supposed to be a fun and safe place to learn and make friends. If anyone, and I do mean anyone, makes you feel scared or hurt, tell a teacher. If they do nothing, tell me. I will go in there and talk to them. And if that doesn't work, I'll gank all the stupid bitches who dare mess with my baby."

Karkat gasped a little and covered his mouth, eyes wide as he squeaked, "Mommy! You said a swear!"

Porrim smiled and tilted her head to the left. "Oh, did I? I don't think I did."

The pale child giggled a little and hugged his mom as the bus stopped slowly in front of their driveway. "I won't tell Daddy, I promise."

She smiled bigger and squeezed her son tightly before kissing his cheek and saying, "I love you so much, babe. Have a good day. I'll be waiting for you when you get off the bus. Oh, and be nice to everyone. You never know who will get attractive when they get older or who'll bring a gun to school. Bye, baby!"

Karkat kissed her back, said, "I love you, too," grabbed his bag and hopped on the bus quickly.

He wasn't at all eager for his first day of school, but he was five now, and technically a man, so he had to be brave and act like it wasn't a big deal even when he was pretty scared about being without his mom for the first time. Every seat seemed to be filled, his house being the last stop before the bus arrived at the school, and he was ready to sit in the aisle as he reached the back of the bus when a strange-looking guy waved him over and patted his seat to let him know he could sit by him. Karkat was wary, being taught to be on guard when it came to unknown persons, but sat next to the teenager anyway, head held high, eyes forward, avoiding any contact with the guy like he was a terminal disease.

The teen seemed a bit put-off and looked at his mohawked friend in the seat behind him, asking, "The fuck is this kid's beef?"

Said kid with the unspiked mohawk shrugged and laughed a little. "Uh, who cares?"

"Hm. Ey, lil motherfucker!"

Karkat jumped slightly at the intense volume of the dude's voice and looked over to his left like he was just insulted in the worst way. "Excuse me?" he asked, voice regal, moving his hand to himself like a true prude.

"Ah, there we go. Ya finally looked at me. So you ain't a blind little shit." The boy raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in shock and horror at the teen's vulgar language, but said dirty birdie continued on, laughing at Karkat's face. "'Kay, so, my name's Gamzee Makara, and I been at the motherfucking school my whole school-goin' life, so I know everything about it and how to get the fuck around. I could be quite fucking useful to ya, baby. What's your name, ladykiller?"

The pale child was too horrified to say anything. He stared in awe at how loud and gross this guy was. But . . . He was slightly impressed with how freely he said swear words, like he just didn't care about the consequences of saying such shrewd things. Of course, he'd never let that guy know he was anything but disgusted. He turned his nose up to the creepy man and crossed his arms. "Perhaps you should watch your mouth, sir? It's impolite to say such things, and trashy to do so in front of a stranger. Not to mention I'M FIVE."

It was Gamzee's turn to be shocked and impressed. His eyes widened at the kid's language and sophisticated mannerisms. His blank stare grew quickly to a large grin and he laughed wholeheartedly, slapping the child's back softly. "You're one funny little shit, kid! Damn, wish I met ya before my senior year. You're better than cable. Anyway, name, kid. Gimme your name."

"Ugh, why should I? You're creepy. Who even does this to a kid?"

"Me. Now tell me your name."

Crimson eyes narrowed at violet ones, attempting to drive his unwillingness to cooperate with the lanky teen through his thick skull. However, after minutes of unblinking warfare, the kid gave up and said, "Fine. I'm Karkat Vantas. My mom said she'd gank anyone who messed with me, which I'm pretty sure means spank, so you should probably be nice to me."

"Oh yeah? Was that your mom out there with you?"

"Yup."

"Then maybe I'll mess with you on purpose. Wouldn't mind a fox like that spankin' me. Am I right, guys?"

Karkat turned to see four other teenagers nodding in agreement. The boys, a tan kid with copper eyes and a slicked-back black mohawk and a pale kid with purple eyes and wavy black hair with a purple streak in it pushed back out of his bespectacled face, seemed more enthusiastic than the girls, a light-skinned girl with long black hair and purple eyes behind pink glasses and a short girl with pale skin and red eyes with wavy, long black hair.

The short girl pursed her red lips and said, "Gamzee, aren't you being just a tad terrible to this child?"

The tan kid snorted and shook his head. "No, he's being hilarious. Maybe you should chill out, Aradia?"

"You were so much nicer before you became 'best friends' with this clown."

"Okay!" the other girl said loudly. "No fighting now. It is our duty to be good examples for this young man."

"Yeah, like that's possible," the other guy replied, rolling his eyes. "Gam's already shown his ass."

"Like you helped."

"Ah, Fef! That's not fair, I-"

"Just wanted people to like you?"

"H-hey!"

Gamzee chuckled softly and looked back at his new seat buddy. "Sorry 'bout them. They're crazy fuckers. Not like me. I'm totally cool."

"You wear makeup like my mommy," Karkat said dully, looking completely bored of everything. "She says it's okay for boys to wear makeup, too, but I think it makes you look creepier. Too heavy."

The odd man laughed again and nodded, "Yeah, your ma's pretty smart. That's kinda the point?"

"Why would you want people to fear you or think you're a freak?"

Silence. It wasn't awkward or weird, but it was disturbingly quiet. That was a very good question. Gamzee put a finger on his pointy chin as he thought about it, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. Eventually, he looked back at the boy and said, "Because I don't want people to get near me."

"You're pretty chatty for a loner."

"You're pretty smart for a five-year-old."

"I've got smart parents and a perfect sister; of course I'm smart."

"Touché. Anyway, Karkat, you're a cool kid. Never met a kid I could actually hold a decent conversation with. Or not want to kill. Gold star for you."

Karkat couldn't help but blush a little at that. Despite his outward coolness in the situation, he was pretty intimidated by these older kids, especially Gamzee, but he also thought they were cool and unique and he'd very much like to grow up to be so fearless and creative with his looks. His mother wouldn't object, he knew, but it would be some years before he could do anything like that. He'd completely forgotten about it being his first day of school ever, his own age hitting him again hard with a pain he'd never felt before. He'd learn later that it was inferiority.

"Um, thanks," he said quietly.

"So, wanna be buds?"

"What?"

"Would. You. Like. To. Be. My. Friend."

"You're a little old, huh?"

"Age is just a number. You're probably smarter and more mature than most of my classmates."

"With you as an example, probably."

"Damn, you're quick-witted."

"Mom's side. Anyway, I'll be your friend if you stop swearing so much."

Gamzee smiled down at this weird, awesome kid and flipped his wavy hair out of his face some, humming quietly in thought before nodding in agreement. "Sure, kid. I'll cut the sh—poop. For you."

Karkat smiled back, albeit mischievously, and said, "Good. Then I'll be your friend."

"Awesome! Because I got so much stuff to show ya here to impress your little kid friends and be their God. Are you ready for this power?"

The boy stared at the older kid seriously and nodded. "Yes. I am ready. Let's do this."

Aradia sighed softly and leaned against the mohawked kid gently, muttering, "Another one bites the dust."

Her companion smiled at her sadly and asked, "Why do you have to be so negative about Gamzee? He's so cool."

"Blinded by the pedestal you've put him on, Tavros. So young to be taught so much wrong. Perhaps his ending won't be as pleasant as yours."