#he has no idea how to have a normal conversation besides just info dumping

[zeebreezin]

Beverley is - objectively - high Persuasive, however he’s high Persuasive in a very odd way because, essentially, he was raised with the idea that social interactions are a game of what You want to happen and what other people want from You. The end game of which is to get your goals done within the restrictions of social norms. Because he was raised by two very very manipulative people.

So Beverley is very very good at working through the systems of military protocol and things like society’s expectations, seemingly staying both polite and guiding conversations the way he wants…

But if you put him in a normal conversation with no goal besides like, talk? And enjoy the company? He has no idea what to do whatsoever. Help him. He is the result of giving an autistic child advanced Mith training and very little other social guidance and I love him dearly.

[home-is-where-beels-tiddies-are]

i lost the post i had that gave all of caragan’s info, so i’ll just post it again here. first pic is caragan after they die, because only obey me could drive me to design a character post-death 

i did design the sigils myself. then i added the sin marks from the cards, put that little pact symbol on it, and i took the original symbols from the actual demons and simplified/altered them. because i didn’t think it was a good idea to use the actual symbols. don’t wanna manifest something ya know lmao 

very long info dump under the cut. (info dump is copied from the post i lost) and yeah, caragan is a generic super powerful protagonist. so prepare for cheese 

likes: drawing, reading, gaming, and staying at home. they are drawn to dark things; horror, dark colours, literally most things dark.

home/family: they live alone, but near their parents, and they visit almost daily. they have a cat and three snakes (while caragan is away, the fur and scale babies are taken care of, don’t worry) 

age: 27 yrs old, born Jan 7th 

gender: nonbinary, they/them 

height: 4′10 / 147 cm

occupation: part time job, they also make bits and bobs to sell; art, crochet, etc. they went back to college too (and how they signed up for a certain exchange program; in my headcanon, they signed up for it and expected something mundane) then, after their first visit to the devildom, they start learning about the peace that diavolo proposed in their own time, and volunteer for the human organizations involved 

the design after they die: neither angel or demon, appearance shows physical attributes of both. (i also have a lot of post-death info, but… this is already so much, so i will leave it out) the ref i made is below: (worth noting that before their “fall,” using the term very, very loosely, everything on them that is red was white)

appearence: 

they wear all black with small, brightly coloured accessories 

brightly coloured accessories are normally bracelets, scarves, or pins. socks are also always nauseatingly bright 

casual outside attire: black hoodie, black t shirts, black ripped jeans, and converse 

casual around the house attire: grey sweatpants, obnoxious socks, a tank top, and sometimes a sweater or jacket they’ve stolen from the brothers 

formal attire: usually a suit, but asmo can convince them to wear a dress by finding amazing ones and wearing a dress too 

school uniform: jacket sleeves rolled up, or while in classrooms, off completely. no tie, ever. dress pants, wears black flats instead of dress shoes. during their first year, they kept their hair in a ponytail in class 

always wearing their favourite necklace 

first year piercings:

left ear - bar piercing in top, three normal piercings on bottom

right ear - three normal piercings on bottom 

second visit piercings:

left ear - same

right ear - three normal piercings on bottom, and two new normal piercings on top 

they wear binders to their classes and almost always when they go out for less active shenanigans 

rarely wears a binder in the house of lamentation; the first thing they take off when they get home 

hair is greying on both sides of their head, also some greys on top

always, always has dark circles and bags under their eyes 

brothers + romance: they are absolutely smitten with all of them, and they are very blunt and obvious about it. their favourite, though, is beel. this is kept as plainly obvious as their feelings for the others. since they love all of the brothers, they don’t hide their attraction to anyone. for the most part, it works out. 

pact mark locations:  (see first ref pic) 

lucifer - throat 

mammon - upper back 

leviathan - lower back 

satan - left inner thigh 

asmo - right inner thigh 

beel - right inner wrist 

belphie - left inner wrist 

overall, they’re very shy and awkward, and they like to joke around to cover it up. generally quiet, even around those they’re comfortable with. (they don’t talk a lot unless they’re having a ‘moment’ - a day where they’re hyperactive) they have crippling anxiety and depression, but the medication they take eases it. gets irritable around loud noises/people. they make an attempt in having a decent sleep schedule, but most nights they’re awake for hours longer than they intend to be. sleep schedule is more erratic when in the devildom. (probably belphie’s fault.) 

everything below is uh… like, how they act/react to the other characters.  

lucifer:  they mirror what lucifer offers them; if he’s being soft, they will be soft in turn. if he is upset with them, they will apologize and attempt to do better, and they expect the same if the roles are reversed. stuff like that. they don’t openly flirt with lucifer the same way they do some others, instead they focus on gentle interactions. they kept close to lucifer when they first arrived in the devildom (when mammon ditched them) because they deemed him more trustworthy than anyone else. 

mammon:  when with mammon, every filter caragan has is demolished instantly. given mammon never tried to kill or charm them, they grew to respect him very quickly. they also don’t treat mammon like an idiot; they’ve dealt with that themselves enough. yes, they tell him off for doing things that will very clearly come back to bite him in the ass, but they never target his intelligence because they know he’s smarter than he lets on. they openly flirt with mammon because they like to make him blush. they both get into trouble often, but they have each others’ backs throughout. 

leviathan:  they don’t spend as much time with leviathan, but they do enjoy his company. they usually lock away their info dumping and interests, but not with leviathan. he gets to gush about the things he loves, and they match his energy. he tries to offer the same courtesy. they also like to flirt with leviathan to make him blush, but they don’t do it as heavily or as often because his rejections/self deprecating comments make them feel bad. they are also thankful that they can talk to him about their anxiety and he understands it. they rarely call him “levi.” 

satan:  they also don’t spend as much time with satan, but less so than leviathan. they can’t help but feel stupid when they’re with him, so they don’t socialize with him often. buuut any time he offers to socialize, they don’t turn him down. in fact, caragan gets excited. he’s also where they turn to when they’re struggling with their studies or curious about something demon related. they do attempt to joke around and flirt with him, but it’s like a game of chicken, and caragan always ducks out. fairly quickly, too. 

asmodeus:  caragan adores asmo, but they can’t really place why. they also consider him as much a work of art as he does himself. they are very soft with asmo and they rarely flirt with him in a conventional way. even though they reject most sexual advances, they are as handsy as asmo is. asmo is their official cuddle buddy and they love to shower him in gentle affection. if asmo is in sight, they can often be caught staring. at first, they’re very embarrassed by this, and the brothers poke fun. eventually, though, they’re utterly shameless and just widen their smile if asmo catches them. 

beelzebub:  they love beel more than life itself, and that is absolutely not an exaggeration. at first, they were very avoidant and anxious when it came to beel, but when they started to hang out with him, they found him very easy to be around. the attraction started then, but then became way too strong when beel went into full demon mode over his custard. (mood) they started following him around everywhere. they continued that trend well into the year and the following visit. they’re very affectionate and clingy, sitting his lap and hugging him constantly. they carry around as many snacks as their pockets can hold for beel and beel only. 

belphegor:  they knew from the start that belphie was lying to them in the attic and probably meant them harm, but they never held it against him. they never really held their death against him either. they’re quiet around belphie for the most part, even when they started to like him. they often nap with him (against their better judgement) too. the two of them talk a lot about their ideal “me and you and beel” future. more than is healthy. their conversations outside of that are often filled with snark and a weird tension that caragan doesn’t understand. it usually melts away after a cuddle and a nap, though. 

diavolo:  they instantly liked diavolo. they’re very cautious and anxious around him, but they try to be warm in their interactions with him. they do call him “lord diavolo,” and treat him with due respect. he usually throws them for a loop with most things he does, but they try to keep up and be understanding. they have a strong need to get closer to him, for reasons that they don’t understand or even try to understand. they don’t do much about it either. his demon form causes them to become flustered. very flustered. the not-oblivious brothers tease them for it. they have such a huge crush on him. 

barbatos:  they don’t interact with him that much, or try to interact with him outside of things that are necessary. they have nothing against him, they just don’t feel the need to. they’re very polite to him, as polite as they are to diavolo. while they’re curious about him, they don’t go out of their way to interact with him. there’s really not much there besides mild curiosity. 

solomon:  they think he gives off a copious amount of mischievous vibes and it puts them off. at first. they are kind and polite towards him, and they would consider him a friend. the friendship is essentially that “we have no friends in this class so we will become friends to fill the void. but only in this class. we will never speak to each other outside of this place.” it’s not nearly as specific, but that’s the flavour of friendship they have in the beginning. eventually, he grows on caragan and they end up looking forward to seeing him. they just find him very fun. 

simeon:  they think simeon is beautiful and has been caught staring almost as much as when they stare at asmo. with simeon though, they will never be shameless about their staring. they continue to be embarrassed about it forever. forever. they’re polite and kind to simeon, but they feel he keeps himself closed off from them. during their second visit to the devildom, with the play and all, they become a little scared of simeon. it doesn’t change the way they interact with him, but it does put them off for a bit. and after some overthinking, they end up being more drawn to him. 

luke:  they were very anxious around luke, at first. they don’t like kids, and generally become twice as awkward around them. eventually, they found him adorable. when they speak to him, they will focus on child logic, but they do speak to him the way they would speak to anyone. never patronising. happily helps him with studies if they can, gives him affirmation and reassurances whenever needed, and is protective. they have even been known to stand up to lesser demons when they target luke. (when simeon isn’t around; it’s rare) even though caragan is scared shitless the whole time, they try anyway. seeing as they’re only 4′10, they never make short jokes or anything of the like. when the brothers make short jokes, they shoot disapproving looks and will express disappointment if it drags on too long. 

the end of their life time:  they go on to live for a while, dedicating themselves entirely to diavolo on the human side of things, even becoming a public speaker for it. sharing their experiences n all that. which is something they’d never do for anything else. 

at a certain point though, about 50 yrs old or so, they do stop visiting the demon brothers because they’re getting old. they die shortly after in an accident. brothers don’t find out because caragan was already avoiding them. (though, there is general unease because of the bonds they have with caragan. they know something’s very, very wrong but not what. they fear the worst, and they’re right to.) 

but for all the things they did for “the cause,” they were to be judged in the celestial realm. (and… i see it as… in a horrible, horrible way, the big guy upstairs knew everything that would happen with lilith, and deemed her and her brothers an acceptable loss in exchange for peace. it was all orchestrated. i also think that diavolo knew the plan, for the most part. he has his own reasons for wanting the peace, but he does know what the plan was.) 

but they’re escorted to The Big Guy by simeon and luke (a cute reunion with hugs) and he straight up asks caragan what they want. like they can stay here, go to the devildom, or remain in the human realm. 

in any case, they’ll be given all the attributes needed to thrive in all three realms, but only if they continue in their trying to maintain peace. obviously, caragan is all for continuing. and of course, they choose to make their home with the brothers. god’s all like, “you will retain your angelic status, but you do have to fall to achieve the status of demon. are you sure?” they have to have demon attributes to ensure survival and comfort living among demons, so that’s why. 

and caragan straight up says, without missing a beat, “even heaven is hell without them.” everybody knows who they’re talking about. simeon is torn between “that’s so rude” and “that’s so sweet” and luke is horrified. god just laughs. 

they all talk a bit longer so caragan knows exactly what they’re getting into. they will have a lot of power as both angel and demon, but they have to keep their humanity in exchange for that power. which means, inevitably, their long life will become a curse. no human is built to live for a millennia, so it’ll take a toll on their mind and at the end of it all, they won’t be themselves anymore. 

caragan basically says, “yah, worth it. lezgo.” god hands them paperwork, some explaining what caragan is and why, as well as a peace treaty thing to give to diavolo when they get home. i was thinking it’d be something cheesy like “the treaty of the last fallen angel.” no more fallen angels after caragan, they fell so no one else has to again. idk, symbolism or something. but even the future angel/demon hybrids won’t have to fall. 

cue caragan yeeting themselves from the celestial realm. 

diavolo knows caragan’s about to fall (barbatos n all that) and gathers the brothers to the place it’ll be. caragan is just a ball of blue flames, then a crater, the brothers are baffled. 

falling hurts a shit ton (even without losing wings and all that), so caragan ends up crying, but they cry blood. (for angel reasons. i dunno why i think angels cry blood.) which drips from their face and onto the white fabric of the thing they’re wearing, and then everything white fades into a red, even the white of their eyes. (i want to try very roughly animating that one day.) 

then there’s another heart warming reunion, but also with a shit ton of heart break because not only did caragan die, they also just fell. the brothers are angy.

before the brothers can get all “let’s fight god,” caragan hands diavolo the paperwork, all of which he reads out loud for the brothers. 

uh. roll credits. 

just tidbits:

caragan is an angel of perseverance and a demon of despair. 

they have six wings and six eyes on each wing. 

their halo was a tangible ring of golden light, but when they fell, it became horns. but like… still in a ring shape. still a halo. just different. 

they are barefoot in their angel/demon form because they have talons and also just… hate shoes. 

when all the white turned red, all the gold turned silver. 

they look as they did during their second visit to the devildom when they enter their “afterlife.”  

their human form is also just… them. hoodie, ripped jeans, everything, they’re just themselves. 

[artificialqueens]

The Blue Neighborhood Series: SUBURBIA (Group) - Mac

AN: A million and one thanks to everyone who has been here for this journey, I cannot thank you enough for your support and comments and love. I’m so thankful to have you guys and I hope this last chapter lives up to your expectations.

All my love to Meggie for betaing. All my love to Alex who made me actually start writing this series a year ago. All my love to Barbie for letting me bounce ideas off of her.

All my love to you all reading this. <3

Summary: The girls of the Blue Neighborhood grew up together. Playing in the streets, trading secrets, and falling in love.

And maybe, just maybe, they can forgive each other.

Rock bit back a smile as she heard footsteps bounding up the stairs to the prop room.

A week ago she would have scuttled into the far corner and hid until the person left, but now, as Aiden’s flushed face appeared in the doorway, Rock felt only a trace of nervousness.

“What’s up, bitch?” Aiden said by way of greeting.

Rock rolled her eyes, but patted the cool stone floor beside her, motioning for the other girl to sit. Aiden took her spot silently, the two falling into a sort of semi-comfort that they had developed over the past weeks.

Rock pulled out her phone, instinctively tapping through the screen to pull up the next episode of Sailor Moon.

She felt rather than heard Aiden’s complaint from beside her. “We are not watching this garbage again,” the dark-haired girl said, making a grab for the phone in Rock’s hand. But Rock had been anticipating this, and snatched her hand away in the nick of time, ratcheting up the volume a few notches to drown out Aiden’s groan of defeat.

“You were the one who busted up into my lunch spot. You can either bite your tongue or find another place to hide from everyone who’s pissed at you,” Rock retorted. “Also, don’t pretend you don’t like it, I see the way you look at Neptune, you fucking lesbian.”

Aiden rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched up. “First of all, you’re a bitch. Second of all, shut up.”

Rock smirked. “I don’t hear you denying it.”

Aiden waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, just play the damn show so I don’t have to hear you talk anymore.”

Rock smiled smugly to herself, pressing play and sinking back against the cold brick wall, Aiden’s warm presence heavy at her side.

The two watched in relative silence, save for Rock’s occasional need to info dump about a particular scene or character. Aiden rolled her eyes and gave her biting comments, but Rock could tell she appreciated the attention not being on her.

Ever since Aiden had been outed as the person behind the drama account, she had sunk even more into the background. Where before she would pipe in with snark and wit, now she sat back in silence, letting herself practically disappear in the horde.

Rock understood the feeling in a way.

Maybe that’s why they seemed to get along.

Aiden had stumbled up to the prop room one day, seeking asylum from her mistakes, and Rock had let her.

But questions still ate at her, bit at the tension in the air around them as they continued to watch in silence. Rock could feel them steadily bubbling to the surface, tempting her to ruin the peace she and Aiden had found.

She bit the bullet, pressing pause, noticing her breathing was coming out harsher than before.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked.

The question hung still in the air for a long while, so long that Rock nearly looked up to see if Aiden was still sitting beside her.

The older girl sighed, long and low. “You promised you wouldn’t bring it up.”

“Yeah.” Rock nodded, turning to meet Aiden’s eyes. “I lied.”

Aiden broke the contact, putting her head in her hands and letting out a shaky exhale. Rock expected her to leave, to lash out and storm away.

But Aiden just breathed in and out once more before lifting her head, staring at the stone floor intently. “My parents got divorced the summer before freshman year,” she said slowly, as if testing out the words on her tongue. “It came out of nowhere. There were no big fights or warning signs, just… divorce. And Mom never said why.”

Rock saw the other girl’s features soften the tiniest bit before harsh lines replaced them.

“We were happy. A happy, normal family. We played board games and went on camping trips and spent hours staring up at the clouds.” Aiden bit her lip harshly. “It came out of nowhere.”

She took a steadying breath before speaking again. “And then my dad got real sick. Couldn’t be on his own so he moved back in. And I couldn’t—” Aiden shook her head. “I didn’t know how to be there… in that house.”

“Everyday I would come back from school and I’d have lost a little more of him,” she practically whispered, voice suddenly hoarse and grating. “Mom did her best, caring for a man she didn’t love anymore, but she worked, and I went to school and… and… and we weren’t there for him.”

There was a beat of silence before Aiden spoke again. “I didn’t go home the week after he died. I slept in the theatre seats down there, showered in the locker rooms. Fuck.”

Rock didn’t know what to say, couldn’t imagine the pain and suffering that lived inside this girl she had known for so long.

Aiden’s expression hardened, but she still refused to look up from where her eyes were fixed on the floor. “That week I started noticing stuff. People doing shit they weren’t supposed to, shit that didn’t make sense.”

“The account wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, just a place to post dumb shit about the people who were dicks to me.”

Aiden finally turned to meet Rock’s gaze, her eyes wide and helpless. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand, but all of a sudden people found it, and were sending the account other stuff. Confessions, kinks, teacher-student relationships and I-I didn’t know what to do.”

“And then I saw Gigi and Jaida,” Aiden exhaled shakily.

“And I remembered how hurt Crystal had been all those years ago, how hurt she still was about the whole thing. And I tried to bring it up to her, but she shot me down. And I tried to let it go, I really did.  But they just kept hooking up, and they weren’t even being secretive about it. And after three fucking years of hurting Crystal, I thought they deserved a little bit of shit for what they did.”

“So you posted the picture.” Rock nodded.

“Yeah.” Aiden sighed.

Rock took a deep breath in and out. “I didn’t know that, about your dad.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Aiden shook her head. “I didn’t want the pity. I didn’t want people… looking after me. It didn’t feel right since I didn’t-I couldn’t look after him.”

Rock nodded. “That all must have been…” She paused. “Really overwhelming,” she said lightly, placing a gentle hand on Aiden’s shoulder.

Aiden scoffed, shrugging off Rock’s affection. “Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you…” Aiden floundered, “I dunno, understand. Like you’re not mad.”

Rock shook her head. “Oh, I’m mad,” she assured.

Aiden looked down to her fingers, toying with the laces of her shoes.

“But I get why you did it.”

Aiden shook her head, words coming out in a desperate whisper. “I’m not sure I do.”

“You want answers.” Rock shrugged. “That’s all any of us want. You want to know why your parents divorced, you want to know why people lie, you want to know how someone could cheat on someone else.”

Aiden looked up to meet Rock’s eyes, the first look of genuine vulnerability passing between them.

“You don’t get to know.” Rock smiled sadly. “You gotta suck it up like the rest of us and get comfortable with not knowing.”

Aiden’s gaze darted away, breaking eye contact again, but Rock didn’t stop. “You don’t get to make up a narrative and force other people to fit it. You wanna be emo and angsty and upset at the world, fine, you do that, but you don’t get to ruin other people’s lives just because you got dealt a shit hand in life.”

“Tough talk for a bitch hiding in a prop room,” Aiden snapped.

Rock chuckled. That’s the Aiden she knew. “In case it escaped your notice, you’re also up here hiding, dumbass.”

Aiden looked at Rock hard, walls up, defenses primed, ready to attack.

But then she laughed.

Really, genuinely laughed.

And she didn’t stop.

She didn’t stop until tears started streaming down her face, and she was hiccuping around sobs she desperately tried to fight off.

And Rock held her through it.

…

Brita couldn’t help a smile as she made her way down the hallway and through the open doors to the art room. She was met with a chorus of greetings that still managed to make her stomach flip.

She took up her usual seat next to Heidi, and the two began to trade the entirety of their respective lunches. They fell into easy conversation, as the couples on either side of the room were too absorbed in each other to pay them any mind.

Brita watched them out of the corner of her eye, blaming it on curiosity.  

Nicky and Crystal sat next to each other, smiling ear to ear and occasionally feeding each other bites of food like lovesick idiots.

“They’re so gross,” Heidi groaned from beside her.

The two girls in question whipped around to glare at her.

“I miss when you were both too gay to talk to each other. Can we go back to that? I miss that.” Heidi whined, stabbing at the pasta Brita brought with a fork.

Crystal raised a challenging brow at Heidi, and without breaking eye contact, which was a feat in and of itself, pulled Nicky in for an overly loud kiss.

Heidi scowled. “I hate y’all.”  

Brita laughed at the pair, but as their kiss became more heated, she turned her head, hoping to conceal the flush that ran the length of her neck.

She shook her head to clear it, mind suddenly muddled as she tried to piece together the feelings welling up inside her at such a public display. Her eyes flitted around the room, latching on to anything that could keep her attention.

She saw Gigi, who was perched on one of the tables, elbows resting atop her knees, head in her hands as Jackie rambled on about something to do with a new congresswoman who was ‘changing the political game.’

They seemed… comfortable. At ease around each other in a way that wasn’t unexpected, they had known each other their whole lives, yet Brita was still shocked when they announced they were dating. But now, looking at the two sharing gentle smiles over their respective lunches, Brita didn’t know why she never put the two together before. The pair was well-matched. Their quiet intimacy seeped into their conversation, gentle giggles erupting every so often from their side of the room.

Brita again found herself oddly entranced.

Was that what it was like to love a woman?

Was it always so… tender?

Nausea filled the pit in her gut, and she turned away from the happy couple.

Internalized Homophobia.

She had read about it on the internet. Hadn’t batted her eye at the definition the first time, but now it seemed to be coming back to her.

It didn’t feel good, not at all. Confronting that about herself. Seeing such blatant representation of something she had learned to bury so long ago.

But it wasn’t impossible.

She knew that to get to the bottom of this… whatever it was she was feeling, she had to confront it head on. She had to understand where it came from and why it seemed to hurt her so much.

These girls, these couples moreover, were showing her that it didn’t have to be so hard. That there was a chance for happiness, unabashed joy even. Love.

And that, funnily enough, gave her hope.

Heidi chuckled from beside her, noticing her red face. “You sure you don’t like girls, Miss Filter?”

It took everything in her not to flinch.

Instead, Brita simply shrugged.

And she counted that a victory.

…

Widow started as she nearly ran headfirst into a lanky brunette.

Before she could so much as say something, the figure had bolted toward the school building. Widow just watched him go, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. As she rounded the sports shed, she overheard her friend’s voice clear and brash as always.

“Matthews only cares if your paper’s in fucking English, doesn’t matter the content.”

A short blonde girl rolled her eyes pointedly and went to say something, but Dahlia stopped her with a hand. “You know the rules yeah? Change the first and last word for each paragraph.”

The girl nodded.

Dahlia pulled out a handful of loose papers and held them out to the freshman, who grabbed them wordlessly. “Now get lost.”

Widow smiled as the young kid scampered off.  

“You really should charge them more,” she called out.

Dahlia started at the sound of another voice, but relaxed as she identified the source.

She smirked, shrugging. “Consider it a donation to charity.”

“I dunno if you can count having half the freshman class cheat off of you for tax write-offs.”

Dahlia chuckled.

“You ‘bout done here?” Widow asked, gesturing to the makeshift office Dahlia had set up.

The younger girl nodded, throwing papers haphazardly into her open backpack.

Widow looked around, the breeze ruffling her curls and sending a shiver down her spine. “Yeah, let’s get outta here, this place gives me the creeps.”

“You think this place is bad, you should see the old greenhouse. That shit’s fuckin’ haunted, man.” Dahlia shook her head.

Widow’s eyes lit up. “The WHAT?”

Dahlia turned to stare wide eyed at her. “You serious? You ain’t ever gone by it?”

Widow shook her head dumbly.

Dahlia chuckled, flinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Lead the way, bitch.” Widow smiled.

They walked for only ten minutes, past the baseball field and through the line of trees that bordered the athletic quad. Through a patch of thick brush they came to a small clearing. An old greenhouse stood practically tethered to the surrounding vegetation, only because of the fading light reflecting against the frosted glass could Widow even make out the corners of the structure.

Before they could so much as stop, Widow was excitedly pulling her camera out of her school bag, fiddling with the aperture until she got the lighting perfect on the small screen in front of her.

Dahlia rolled her eyes fondly, allowing her friend to stalk around the building, snapping endless pictures, mumbling about shutter speed and light refraction. It was only a matter of time, and a few pleading words from Widow, before Dahlia found herself posing next to the greenhouse.

“I regret this already,” she groaned but allowed Widow to pose her in various absurd positions, all of which felt incredibly awkward, yet came out stunning.

The two girls ventured into the structure, finding the inside just as overgrown and sprawling as the outside. It felt much bigger on the inside, wooden tables covered in pots lined the walls, leaving only a center plot of ground to walk, but the walls were massive, green tint to the window panes making the ceiling appear vaulted.

“This place is gorgeous, oh my god!” Widow exclaimed, practically jumping up and down in excitement. She whipped around to face Dahlia, eyes alight with her signature mischief. “Oh my god, D, we could totally give this place a makeover.”

Dahlia went to protest, because really? But Widow started talking a mile a minute before she could get a word in.

“Just move that plant over there and that table against the far wall, and we could probably fit a couch in here if we turned it sideways. My dad has this old one in the basement that we don’t use. We could get Jaida’s truck and haul it here. And I know Crystal would fucking love to paint in this place. Not to mention we could totally smoke here without getting caught. And—”

Dahlia finally butted in. “What do I look like? Fuckin’ HGTV?”

Widow rolled her eyes, turning to face her friend, the plea evident in her tone. “This place could be a really bangin spot, D,” she implored. “Plus, with it gettin cold an’ all, we’ve got fuck all to do.”

Dahlia sighed. “Remind me why we’re friends.” Even as she said it, Dahlia couldn’t keep the smile from creeping up the sides of her face.

“Because you love me.” Widow whined, pulling Dahlia closer, and peppering kisses against the side of her face.

Dahlia pushed her off gently, miming vomiting, and Widow just laughed.

The two cleared off a bit of the tables, each setting up across from each other. They fell into a comfortable silence, inhaling and exhaling the late autumn breeze, watching as their breath danced in the air.

“You talked to Gigi?” Widow finally asked, shattering their peaceful silence.

Dahlia sighed, long and low. “Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “Said I was sorry about the stuff at the party. I didn’t know… I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I had no clue.”

“None of us did.”

“Yeah, but it was kinda my fault in the first place.”

Widow shrugged. “It woulda come out one way or another.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dahlia bit her lip, refusing to meet Widow’s eyes.

“But?”

“But, I still gotta talk to Jan.”

Widow sighed, but nodded her head knowingly. “Yeah, you do,” she agreed.

“I just don’t know how the fuck to go about it.”

Widow scoffed. “Maybe start with ‘I’m sorry.’”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Dahlia groaned, letting her head drop into her open hands. “Fuck, man. I really messed up.”

“You knew that when you fell for another girl’s boyfriend,” Widow replied.

“Yeah, but it just got so complicated.”

Widow nodded, smiling sadly. “That’s life for ya. Doesn’t mean you don’t do the right thing.”

Dahlia nodded into her hands, breathing in and out slowly. When she finally looked up to meet Widow’s eyes, she nodded. “She and Bryce broke up.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he told me last week. I didn’t know how to feel.”

There was a pause. “How do you feel?” Widow asked.

Dahlia looked at her for a moment, mind everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “I dunno. I thought I’d be… happy? I guess. But I just feel… nothing.”

Widow nodded. “Well, hey, if you’re ever feeling down, just know that Joe asks me at least once a month if you’d join us for a threesome.”

Dahlia laughed, even though she hadn’t wanted to. “I’ve still got it,” she joked.

Widow rolled her eyes playfully. “You’ve always had it, bitch. You just been wastin’ it on guys you couldn’t have.”

“Yeah yeah, all right, who are you, my therapist?”

Widow suddenly got very serious, her voice grave. “Don’t even joke about that. That’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

“Hey!” Dahlia yelled, flinging a handful of dirt at her friend.

Widow held up her hands in surrender. “Your mind is a scary place, D.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

…

Heidi looked up as the door to the house across the street opened and closed, revealing an exhausted looking Jaida.

The All-Star player exhaled loudly, leaning against her front door. When she opened her eyes, she saw Heidi and had the decency to look embarrassed.

Heidi just smiled knowingly. “You too?”

The tension in Jaida’s shoulders dissipated as she recognized Heidi’s meaning. “Dude,” she exhaled, shaking her head.

“I know.” Heidi chuckled.

“It’s like… they don’t know how to act like people.”

“I know!” Heidi agreed. “What’s with that?”

“The fuck if I know.” Jaida smiled warmly.

“Promise me if I ever get old and start acting like that you’ll just shoot me in the head.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Jaida chuckled.

“Hey!” Heidi scoffed, waving the bowl she had around animatedly.

Jaida just laughed, easy and light.

“Whatcha got there?” She motioned to the Tupperware in Heidi’s hands.

A mischievous smile broke out across Heidi’s face. “Banana pudding,” she winked. “Best you’ve ever had, I guarantee.”

Jaida’s eyes lit up and she raised a brow inquisitively at the dish.

“Go grab a few spoons and you can try some.” Heidi nodded.

“A few?”

“If you think we the only ones with crazy family on Thanksgiving, you got another thing comin’.”

As if on cue, the door to Jackie’s house banged open, the aforementioned girl storming out the door and into the street, breathing harshly. Heidi could feel the anger and hurt rolling off her in waves, and felt sympathy well up inside her. She knew Jackie’s family was rough, they’d been especially difficult the past month with her relationship with Gigi coming to light.

Heidi didn’t think twice about waving her over with a sweeping gesture.

“Hey, guys,” Jackie exhaled, the lines beside her face appearing deeper than they had a few days ago.

The two gave her sympathetic looks.

Heidi clocked the moment Jackie noticed the dish in her hands, her eyes widening a fraction. Heidi patted the ground beside her. “Jaida’s gonna go grab spoons.”

Jaida rolled her eyes but made her way back into the house.

Just then, Nicky’s door opened and the French beauty made her way outside, lighting a cigarette like a reflex as she noticed the girls. She waltzed over to them, smiling all the while. “I thought the point of this holiday was that you were supposed to spend time with your family.”

Before either of them could answer, Crystal’s door banged open.

“Nicky, that better not be what I think it is!”

Nicky’s eyes went wide and she quickly doused her cigarette with her shoe. The french beauty turned on her heel, offering a wide and not at all suspicious smile to her girlfriend. “Ma préféré! I do not know what you mean.”

Crystal raised a challenging eyebrow as she made her way over to the three girls. She surveyed the two on the ground, who pointedly looked away, not about to get in the middle of whatever the fuck those two were on about.

“Mhmmm.” Crystal rolled her eyes.

Jaida appeared again, with several spoons and her own tray of biscuits.

Jackie got up excitedly and rushed back into her house, claiming that she had food too.

The group set up their small feast in the middle of the numerous parked cars that lined the cul de sac. Chatting animatedly about their respective family drama.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by Widow, holding a vat of green beans that her family wouldn’t eat, even though she swore they were seasoned to perfection.

Slowly, one by one, each of the houses in the cul de sac opened and closed, girls pouring out of them, some with food, others with hopeful smiles.

Gigi had bounded over to the group, arms extended with a pot of mac ‘n cheese. She had sidled up right next to Jackie, the new couple whispering in hushed voices, blush high on their cheeks.

Brita joined them not long after, an array of silverware in her hands, and plopped down with Heidi.

Next was Dahlia, with a bottle of wine in each hand.

When Jan joined the group, she looked skeptically at the bottles, but bravely took a swig from each, wincing a bit at the taste.

At some point Rock had snuck into the circle, her occasional odd comment taking the group off guard at the suddenness of her appearance.

The comfortable conversation slowly petered out when Aiden arrived.

The black-haired girl gave a weak smile, gesturing down to the pot in her hands. “I brought stuffing,” she spoke softly.

There was silence.

The group stared at her, and Aiden stared back

The silence went on, each girl’s eyes flitting about the circle, unwilling to be the first to speak.

Until, Rock bit the bullet. “Thank god someone here knows what real Thanksgiving food is!”

There was another beat of silence.

And then conversations resumed.

Slowly at first.

The tension was still there, Aiden wasn’t forgiven, but the tense atmosphere eased a bit as the black-haired girl took up a seat on the outskirts of the group next to Rock, placing her dish in the middle of the circle.

Heidi surveyed the scene, smiling at the sight. A mixture of voices bubbled up from all sides as the girls fell into new, comfortable conversations.

She marveled at the fading color of the trees, signaling the change of season, and the coming winter. As she glanced back over to the group of girls gathered in the center of the street, head clouded, heart full, the only emotion she could pinpoint was hope.

Hope that the girls of the Blue Neighborhood had what it took to tackle the rest of their senior year.

[cadomoisspokenfor]

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 4:

Frizzytop

I theorized in episode 2 that David could see through the 4th wall, or at least into a different universe. At the start of this episode Oliver outright breaks the 4th wall. Perhaps powerful reality benders just have that capability. If David knows, and Oliver knows, then Farouk definitely knows.

“A great philosopher once wrote, ‘In times of peace, the war like man attacks himself.’ This is the route of all our problems.”

“We are the route of all our problems. Our confusion, our anger, our fear of things we don’t understand.”

If we carry those 2 quotes throughout the rest of the show, then no doubt the tragedies that happen later on are caused by a collective misunderstanding of each other. And a collective lashing out at that misunderstanding of each other.

“Violence, in other words, is ignorance.”

The most central theme of the show is empathy vs fear. I s’pose whenever there’s a conflict in the show we’re supposed to be asking whether the characters should answer with empathy or fear. Certain characters lives have revolved heavily around fear. And that informs their decision making quite a bit. This will all come up again at multiple points throughout the show.

Syd... probably can’t break the 4th wall. So maybe it’s most logical to interpret this as her inner monologue. Very Jessica Jones esque.

The same voice lines from when Syd was searching for David in episode 1 are played. I guess there go to whenever Davids lost (whether in the world or in his mind) is to transmit Syds voice calling his name in hopes he’ll hear it and come back.

Kerry can pick locks.

The concept of “bad mutants” is well established amongst the veteran summerland crew. Ptonomy’s caution about David is probably because he feels he has a selfish vibe, and that’s a well known red flag of “bad mutants.”

It should also be noted he’s partly afraid of him because he has so much trouble understanding him. His powers, which when used affectively are essentially the ability to understand where someone’s coming from, keep getting overrided by Davids.

It’s now to the point where Ptonomy is doubting his own ability to tell what’s real and what’s not real. He was pretty confident he’d always know somehow in episode 2. Now, not so much.

Ptonomy very early on is open to the idea that David both has powers and psychological issues. “He’s unstable. You try hearing voices for 10-15 years, self medicate with hard drugs and then get dumped in a looney bin.”

Ptonomy also determines that because of his instability combined with the fact he has powers, David is a bomb waiting to go off.

I suppose if we’re trying to figure out their logic with the whole “the combination of being mentally ill and having powers makes him dangerous”, and considering that their right now going over an incident where David robbed his therapist for drug money and then bashed the doctors head in when he came back, the direct concern is that David makes bad decisions and/or selfish decisions (at least), and if he were to make a bad decision regarding his powers a lot of innocent people could get very badly hurt. Or killed. Along with the worry that the voices in his head don’t exactly give him the most angelic of advice at times, and because of his powers he’s very capable of fulfilling their wills, so to speak.

Based on Olivers speech at the beginning of the episode though, it might be safe to say the overall message is instead of acting on fear they should act on empathy and help David overcome his problems instead of vilifying him for his mental illness.

Syd suggest Davids hiding his real memories behind a fake ones and Ptonomy says she going through a lot of effort just to convince herself Davids a good guy. I never really got what he meant, but I guess what he meant is that Syd’s trying to find a justifiable reason for why David would attack Dr Poole like he did when the obvious answer is just “He’s got violent tendencies.” I always just thought she was genuinely hypothesizing, ya know, trying to solve the case. Maybe she was and Ptonomy’s just mean.

“I was looking for the man I loved. Or did I just love the idea of him? The face he showed me?” Doubt springs up early. Why can none of the characters reconcile that a person can have both good and evil in them at the same time? That’s... all people, in fact.

When Kissinger ask if Amy knew David had powers Amy says, “I think so.” Amy potentially acted on fear as well, in regards to her and Davids childhood that is.

Kerry mostly only thinks of herself in relation to Cary.

Cary misses Kerry when she’s gone. Even besides the roles they fill for each other, they generally enjoy each others company. They’re quite literally as close as 2 people can be. Each one living for the sake of the other.

Davids once again surrounded by a crowd of people all yelling in his face. After they disappear though he recovers pretty fast. I guess he’s used to it.

Clockworks Podcast pointed out that the music Davids wincing at is sax heavy Jazz, which is (abstractly) the sound The Devil With Yellow Eyes makes whenever he appears. If my theory about David seeing through the 4th wall is correct, then maybe he’s actually hearing that sound whenever TDWYE is around. Alternatively, Farouk blast that in his head everytime to mess with him.

“Sorry... I forgot about your um... I had a similar- proclivity? Malady? I forget the word- what’s the word? I’ve been here a long time.”

If the previous paragraphs are right, Oliver’s probably implying he was also affected by a mental parasite at some point. It might’ve even been what stranded him in the astral plane.

From Davids perspective he skipped over the entire second half of Chapter 3.

Oliver is essentially explaining the plot of the show to David and the audience before it’s even been unfurled.

“You have an unquiet mind, so you war with yourself, like a dog trying to chew off its own tail.”

David’s still in a very pessimistic guilt ridden place at this point in the story. That’s probably the internal war Oliver’s talking about.

... why can’t Oliver leave the astral plane again? If he did have his own mental parasite, it seems long gone by now. If he just can’t find his way back, then how does he do it in Chapter 7?

Syd calls non-mutants “normals.”

“We were the ghost in a haunted house.” ~Syd, Chapter 4

“You think ghost like living in a haunted house?” ~Syd, Chapter 12

Why does Syd keep hallucinating The Angriest Boy? Or is that just visual metaphor?

Ptonomy’s a very, “Get the job done and look classy while doing it” sorta guy.

“To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.” ~Sun Tzu, Ptonomy

Is the above quote perhaps relevant to the shows message during other conflicts throughout the series? Could it be subtly implying all the characters should always look for non-violent ways to defeat their enemies? I.e. not just a classy line from Ptonomy, but a statement of themes within the show.

The food David, Philly, and Dr Poole are having in Philly’s memories is cherry pie.

In Philly’s memory David says, “I don’t keep a lot of stuff.” And Philly comments that there’s no evidence David had a past. At least among the things David owns at that point. I know Farouk edited a lot of Davids memories, but why did David himself get rid of so much physical stuff? Syd said the reason he broke into Dr Pooles that day was to destroy their taped conversations. What’s compelling him to erase himself from existence? Is it as simple as “Farouk”? It seems like on a deeper level David doesn’t want anyone to know too much about him. Everyone’s only allowed to know what he tells them. His way of feeling in control I guess.

Philly did the classic “I can fix him” when she started dating David.

Philly implies David going off his medication and keeping bad company is what caused the downfall of their relationship. And subsequently his life, probably.

Despite everything, Philly still feels sympathetic towards David.

“Whoever altered Davids memory-“ Ptonomy very early on humors the idea that Davids being acted on by a 3rd party.

The longer Kerry is away from Cary, the more antsy she is for a fight. She’s not supposed to have to sit through all this “boring stuff.”

Ptonomy left after he got the info on Pooles location from Philly. He probably wanted to get the rest of the information from the source. Ironically, they probably woulda gotten closer to the real answer if he’d just looked a bit longer.

Sys proudly says “Yes” when “Dr Poole” ask if she’s in love with David.

It never really comes up again, but Kerry and Cary are physically linked. Maybe even psychologically. When one of them gets hurt, or even exerts their body a lot, the other can feel it, even if their own body doesn’t take on the actual damage. This is still true even if they’re miles apart.

Syds definitely portrayed as the hero at the end of this scene.

“All those years of practice-“ A part of David always knew he had powers. I wonder, did he practice a little in secret? Or is he saying he was at Summerland for years? That doesn’t really add up. But then... what does he mean by years?

Lenny encourages David to get angry so that his powers will strengthen enough for them to overpower the astral plane. Sort of... cheating his way out. David will later achieve more feats of strength through honing his emotions. Like many heroes, his level of power is intrinsically linked to his emotional state.

Very directly here, Davids violence is caused by ignorance. He doesn’t know Syd switched bodies with Walter and is trying to escape.

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Viking Empire (AU)

Masterlist 

My entry for Star’s Multi Fandom Follower Celebration

Prompt: Single Parent AU

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson X OFC

Warnings: Fluff, cursing

Summary: Falling pregnant with the child of famed second heir to the Odinson dynasty or what is more commonly known as the Viking Empire, Loki Laufeyson, it felt fair she keep it hidden. Hiding for five years, the OFC is faced with a meeting with Loki after the company is divided and he wants to meet with her in hopes or rekindling an old flame. How well does he take to the discovery of a child baring his likeness and the woman he hopped to rekindle love with?

A/N:  This is a modern AU as well. I hope I did this justice, I’m not used to normal characters and felt out of my element, but I had fun with this. There is a lot to this AU, and I tried to highlight all I felt was need to know so there wasn’t a big dump of info. The idea behind this is Loki along with Thor are heirs to the Odinson fortune even after Loki branches off from the family business and becomes a very successful rock star that later returns after his mother passes and is stuck with taking care of Odin due to Thor's own career. She had been afraid to tell him of the little boy due to all the other fake claims to him being the father of illegitimate children.

Words: +2,700

————

It had been 6 months after their last meeting face to face, and a total of 8 since their last Skype. That made it possibly 9 total, for her to end up here, on her back in agony and cursing at whomever was listening. 

An order from the doctor had her taking note the labor wasn’t going as planned, the chaos becoming more frantic around her, no, them. 

“We have to do a c-section,” the doctor began as he touched her shoulder and began to sling around all medical jargon possible. 

“I told you this was a bad idea,” she snapped drawing back to the conversation this child wasn’t ready to be born. Another sharp contraction cutting her short just like the doctor. 

“It won't take long,” the doctor spoke as it all became a frantic need to get her into the OR.

Thankfully she was allowed awake and heard the little boys first cry. Looking over as a smaller than what they anticipated wailing baby was hurried to the incubator. Checking him over, from what she could see from her sprawled out position on the table, he truly appeared healthy.  

“Hand him here,” she spoke hurriedly, mother’s instinct telling her, she was what the infant needed. It took a few moments, but the doctor himself told them to lay the crying baby to her skin for him to instantly quiet.

"Hey little guy," she soothed to the small bundle the nurse held next to her, even allowing her to move an arm to wrap the bundle as she was sewn up. "Looks like it's just us, but we will make it just fine," she breathed, kissing the little bundle that squeaked and cooed. 

5 years later

She supposed, at times, she should have informed Loki, one of the heirs to the Odinson fortune, -god knew only how they came to be so wealthy-, that he had a son. But, there had been so many false claims to both he and his brother, Thor, being fathers to illegitimate children after the company was divided between them, she figured it was best to keep quiet. 

Besides, the two of them were doing great on their own, she had a steady job at the law firm where she had met Loki. The Loki Laufeyson, business mogul and rock star, who had sought out legal help in assuring his father was taken care of after the older monarch began to fall ill.

She even had the small house they lived in paid for a few years before little Liam came along. Having grown accustomed to raising the little boy on her own and preferred it.

Taken to focusing on and raising the now 5-year-old that was settled next to her on the couch, fast asleep. Looking down at the ebony haired boy, she decided it was best to let him rest while she checked over emails from work before starting dinner. 

A new email popped up the moment she opened the app on her phone. Her heart hammered hard in her chest when she realized it was from Loki's personal email account. 

Nervously, for the first time in years she hesitated to open the email, something twisted her gut. This was the account he used to speak to her of matters that was just them. This wasn't from his assistant, but anxiously she pressed on it to open the document.

Evening love,

I understand that this may not reach you until the following day, but I was hoping to come by and see you that same day. I understand if you can't or frankly wouldn't want to, but I would love for you and I to have dinner together and catch up. It has finally calmed down enough for me to leave the company, and thankfully my brother has returned to take some of the stress. 

Hope to hear from you soon,

Loki Laufeyson 

Looking to the little boy asleep in her side, she swallowed hard. Loki did need to know, that was no question, but she didn't want to sound like some money-grubbing whore. Maybe have him come by before Liam was dropped off from school to judge how the business mogul took to the child that was an exact copy of him. 

Pressing the reply icon, she sat out to transcribe an email before losing her nerve.

Evening Loki,

It is great to hear from you and I'm glad to hear that Thor has returned to help with the company. Yes, dinner sounds great. Could you stop by Barnes and Rogers law firm at 3?

Pressing the send button made her panic instantly. This could go one of two ways, good or bad, there couldn’t be an in-between. Her breath hitched as in seconds the reply to her email popped back up and she instantly opened it.

That is great to hear, and l look forward to dinner tomorrow evening.

See you soon,

Loki Laufeyson

Shit. What had she just done? They were fine just the two of them, but here she was jumping at the first chance to meet Liam’s father like a horny schoolgirl. Closing out of the app, she tried to calm herself, rationalize. 

If Loki didn't want to acknowledge Liam at all, then so be it. It would speak to his character as a man not hers as a mother. She had endured numerous questioning of who the father was, the talk of her being a whore behind her back by family and had gotten support from friends who loved her. 

She could do this, even if she felt like panicking.

Sitting at her desk, it was one p.m.. A pling coming across the computer alerted her to an email had her waking the screen up to find it was Loki. Opening it without hesitation, it was now or never.

Love,

I'm running behind, it may slighly closer to three thirty, is this a problem? If so I will gladly reschedule so we can still see each other tonight.

Loki Laufeyson

Ok, she was shocked at how it sounded as if he was dying to see her. It was still his personal email, so that meant this was him and not a secretary. Clicking the reply she composed her own email.

Loki,

3:30 is fine, my cell number is 123-456-7891. Don't hesitate to text or call if you need to.

Tapping send, it dawned on her that Liam would be here at that point. Heat flooded her cheeks as she looked out to the reception desk and her friend poked his head in.

"You aright? You look sick," Bucky chuckled, he was the owners son, having taken over the law firm after his father’s death. They handled big accounts such as Stark and T’Challa, but that didn't stop them from being down to earth and caring for one another.

"I'm fine," she faked, they had worked together enough to know she was lying, and he was the first to put together she was pregnant. Not to mention she was 100 percent sure Bucky knew that Loki was Liam’s father. 

"Nope, you're not," he spoke stepping into the room to shut her door to speak privately. "Come on doll, tell me what’s going on. Youve been jumpy all morning."

"I have not been jumpy," she retorted, sitting back in her seat to cross her arms over her chest to stick her tongue out at him. "It's Liam’s father."

"He contact you?"

"Yeah, he wants to have dinner this evening. I guess we will find out how he feels about Liam," she smiled nervously as Bucky took a seat in front of her desk to lounge back.

"Well, however it goes, you know we got your back," he smiled reassuringly.

She had no way of telling Bucky how that put her at ease. Bucky meant it when he told her that, the entire firm got involved when it came to Liam, they helped with childcare, arrangements if she couldn't break away from court and all that. Not to mention all they did right after birth to make her life easier.

"Good to know Buck," she smiled, she didn't want to think of how far south this could go if Loki went off the deep end and began to make demands of she and Liam.

A little after three, Liam came running into the law firm fresh off the bus, the young black-haired boy getting everyone involved in his usual late evening excitement. Natasha was sure to hurry out and give him a hug and snack she kept for him; the red head loved the little boy like her own. It had been hard on she and Bucky when they found out she couldn’t bare children, but this worked out in Liam's favor. They got the kid whatever he asked for. 

Finally running into his moms office, he hurried to show his treat before going to his miniature desk and chair Steve had bought for Liam when he was born. She couldn’t help but smile over at him, watching as he pulled a book out to look it over as the door chimed that someone had entered.

It was still only ten after three and it would be awhile before Loki showed. Getting to her feet she smoothed out the pants suit to great the visitor only to pause in the doorway. The common phrase stick in her throat as she met the man's emerald gaze.  

“Good evening,” she finally choked out to Loki with a smile as he made several large strides to stand before her. 

He looked great, hot, in the black on black suit and tie, his hair longer but styled nicely. This was in no way the man she knew used to dress in leather, this wasn't the rocker she dealt with. He had changed, but it wasn’t a bad look. 

Noting him look to her side, he had opened his mouth to speak only to pause as his gaze fell on the black haired, green eyed boy that stared back at him.  

“Um. Good evening," Loki finally croaked, coming out of his stupor as she looked down to Liam then back to Loki. 

"This is Liam," she finally croaked herself. "Please don't make a scene," she pleaded quietly so only Loki heard, she seen the anger in his eyes flash, but it had calmed as he looked over the tall 5-year-old who turned to step back to his little desk and finish his snack.

"I'm not. I came here to ask-. To see if you would agree to-. Dinner, how do the two of you feel about dinner at the Lotus? I arranged for a private room, there is enough seating," he garbled together quickly but elegantly. If Liam was truly his child, which there was no doubt he was, then Loki in no way wanted to be an absent father one like his own step-father Odin.

Giving a careful nod and smile, she agreed with Loki. "Dinner sounds great, let me shut everything down and we will leave."

"Excellent, I have a car waiting a block away, so we want be bothered," he admitted, knowing how she felt about all the attention, and now he himself didn't want it all over the news of his son and the mother of his child.

The evening was quiet, it surprised her Loki spoke to Liam, asking him questions about school and what he liked. It thrilled the boy someone was interested in his comic books, chattering away through the meal for him to only quiet when dessert arrived in the form of chocolate cake.

A careful caress over her knuckles had her turning attention from Liam, who was all but wearing the cake, to Loki who was continuing his ministrations on her hand. Meeting his gaze, she seen care, it appeared he was enthralled with her raising the boy on her own.

"Why didn't you ever tell me love," he asked quietly, caressing her knuckles still as he held her gaze, though it flicked to Liam then back to Loki.

"It wasn't the time; you had just inherited the company along with Thor. It was a lot for all of us to take in honestly. I composed several emails and deleted them. I didn't want you to think I was helpless that I was trying to take anything form you, especially as you were getting your life back in order. I-."

"It's fine love. It's fine," he cut her off kindly, a stark difference from the man she first met. It appeared he was doing well. "We will talk more tonight, if you would like."

"I would. You are welcome in our home anytime," she smiled as Liam finished the cake and began to chatter away once more to Loki who gave a kind smile and pulled away from her.

“When was he born,” Loki asked the moment she returned from putting Liam to bed after his bath. 

“July 8th,” she spoke, giving a smile as she picked up his Ironman backpack to riffle through it before placing it on the hook next to the front door with the coats. Turning to note the look of understanding on the man's face as he lounged on her couch.

"He does well in school?"

"He does. Top of his class actually, loves to read like his father," she smiled as she stepped close to the couch to take a seat, meeting Loki's gaze as he sat forward, giving her all of his attention.  

“Look,” she huffed, knowing it was best to get it out in the open. “I don’t need any help; we’ve done just fine on our own. You have no obligation to Liam or me for that fact.”

A sour looked crossed the man's features as if what she said was foreign to him. Shaking his head he ventured to scoot closer, he had come here to actually attempt to rekindle with her, but now it appeared he had an added bonus.

“Did I say anything that would make you think I would just toss the two of you to the side?” Loki seemed to snap; it wasn't aimed at her. Damn she was bold, no wonder he was and still is taken with her. “I want to-. I don’t want to abandon either of you. You know the hell I suffered, why would I intentionally do that to my own son, and the mother to my son.”

Taken back by his sudden admittance, she paused and looked the man over. That wasn’t what she expected, it was more along the lines of thanks for accompanying me to dinner, but this just isn't going to work; or possibly demand proof he was the father and maybe go to the extreme of taking Liam.

Though she had a feeling he was far from it as he scooted so their knees touched. Not moving as he reached out a hand to take her own in his tenderly. 

“Then don’t," she spoke, surprised she wasn't pushing him away, but this felt so much like the Loki she knew, she didn't want him to stop. 

"I'm sorry love," he breathed, leaning in close, freehand caressing across her cheek, one he couldn't help but relish in the familiarity of. The many times he had taken her to bed summed up into one gesture.

"It's life Loki, it's the hand we were dealt. But we have a chance to make it right," she smiled, hand trailing down her side to push the elastic of the lounge pants to caress over the scarred flesh of her lower abdomen.

Loki pushed back from her, making her realize she hadn't told Loki how Liam was born. Surprised when he gingerly pushed the elastic to look at the pink scar running hip to hip across the plump flesh. Looking up to meet her gaze, she seen worry in his eyes, he knew this couldn't have been easy for her.

"I'm fine, he was just born early due to gestational diabetes. They kind of took him a little too early but he was born perfect," she smiled feeling his finger trace the scar before he moved to wrap her face and pull her lips to his.

"Thank god," he whispered across her lips, pressing his to hers feverishly.

"Let's make this work, the two of you by my side love," he breathed as the kiss broke and he gathered her into his lap. "We will take it slow. Keep it private."

"That sounds perfect," she hummed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling tight as he returned the hug.

Tags are OPEN! REBLOGS ALWAYS WELCOMED!

Tags:  @marshyrebelcloud@dark-night-sky-99 @gramaeryebard @katstablook @andiyholly @jovanna-shewolf @nickyl316h @aslandia726 @furstinnajoelle @itsbqueenthings @collinsstanharbour @jazzieomega @moonlightprime @bambamwolf87 @tomhardy41 @get-loki @drakonwild @alexakeyloveloki @scorpionchild81 @moonfaery @devilbat​ @cherrygeek86​ @cruel-kitten​ @chaoticfiretaconerd​ @wayward-student-philosopher @blah6666​ @jane-777​ @the-minus-four​@iamverity​ 

[autisticpeterparkerheadcanons]

They say if you can’t find content for something, then make it yourself, so here’s autistic!Peter Parker headcanons that literally no one asked for. I’ve seen some, but they all seem to be very similar, and I need MORE and also I have a different take on it, SO. (My brain that needs Categories for Things doesn’t know what to do with this exactly because it seems that a lot of people think the common labels are too ableist and I don’t disagree, so I’m calling this stealth!autism because it’s Not Obvious And Undiagnosed But Still Relevant, AKA me, lol.)

Under a cut because this monster weighs in at just over 2k words. Oops.

Also, ya know, a little bit AU because I hate that Tony sold the Tower. :P

Tony was the first to realize anything was different about the kid, after he started spending more time actively mentoring him after the Vulture fiasco.

It was small things at first. He didn’t think much about it. The first couple of months, most sarcasm went completely over the kid’s head (which, okay, Tony’s brand of humor isn’t really mainstream anymore, he thinks -- he doesn’t speak meme -- and maybe that was the problem because the kid does slowly catch on to it, and fewer and fewer awkward moments ensue as time passes). He stuttered and didn’t often make eye contact, but he wrote that off as more nerves than anything. He rambled about one topic non-stop sometimes, but he wrote it off as anxiety -- a need to fill the silence. His hands were always busy, if not with anything productive, then a constant fidgeting. Once again, probably just nerves.

But as time passed and Peter became decidedly more comfortable around him, none of those things disappeared. Maybe he stutters a little less, but nothing about his mannerisms changed. And the longer he knows Peter, the more little things come to his attention.

Peter has a hard time taking verbal instructions. It’s not that he’s not listening or focusing. It’s more like he just doesn’t...comprehend? process? It just doesn’t always stick. And that’s okay. Tony can work with that. He makes Peter repeat instructions to make sure he’s got it, or he writes it down if he can’t just show the kid himself. Everybody learns differently, after all. (Tony would know.)

Peter often stayed for dinner when he came to the Tower, and Tony noticed the things he liked to eat and the things he wouldn’t. “You don’t like mushrooms? Uncultured!” -- A shrug. “I don’t mind the taste, but I can’t stand the texture. Same goes for shrimp.”

(He files that information away for safe keeping. Do Not Make Shrimp.)

And, really that was just the start. The seemingly ‘little things’ piled up.

One night, after Peter had left, Tony was puzzling everything over. Trying to figure this oddly eccentric kid out. Pepper offered a listening ear.

“It sounds like he could be on the spectrum? It’s a lot of little things, but they add up. It fits.”

And, oh. That made sense actually. But... “Why would he not tell me that?”

“You’re still his hero. He probably doesn’t want you to think any differently of him.”

So Tony doesn’t say anything. There’s no tactful way to ask something like that, after all. Peter will tell him when he’s ready to -- if he ever is -- Tony figures. But until then, he’ll just keep adjusting. Life is probably hard enough to navigate, no need to make the workshop that way, too.

Peter doesn’t know. He’s always been aware that he’s different, sure, but he has Ned and -- more recently -- MJ as friends and (most of) the Decathlon team, so it’s okay. He doesn’t mind, not really.

(He didn’t present in the ‘normal’ ways when he was little, so, just like Tony, all the adults in his life wrote off the ‘little things’ as something else.)

And then everything happens and suddenly he’s spending a lot of time with the Tony Stark and getting to work in his lab with him, and if the Tony Stark does’t mind that he’s kind of weird and awkward, then he must not be that weird or awkward. Tony doesn’t interrupt his rambles or look annoyed by them. He doesn’t comment on the fidgeting or stuttering. Peter doesn’t know when the hero worship ended, but he thinks it probably had something to do with the sheer amount of patience the man has for him and his oddities.

(And, don’t get him wrong, Tony is still his hero, but it’s different now.)

Besides his aunt and Ned, he thinks Tony might just be the most comfortable person to be around.

Second semester starts, and he finds out he needs to take an elective instead of a free period in order to stay on track to graduate. Unfortunately there’s only one class that’ll fit in his schedule as is and he doesn’t really want to mess around with the placements of his other classes, so he ends up taking some sort of health class, but not the fun home-ec ones where you get to cook and eat the stuff you make. He’s not exactly dreading it, but he’s not looking forward to it either.

Instead of having an exam for midterms, they have a project, the topics assigned at random, things like depression and anxiety and ADHD. Peter’s topic is Autism Spectrum Disorder. Like most people his age, he has a vague idea of what that is, but he thinks it’ll be interesting to learn more about, so he’s at least not dreading doing research.

He starts with the basics, what it is and how it works and the ‘markers’ of how you can tell if someone is. Which leaves him vaguely confused. Because some of these things sound like him? But he’s not, so.

He ends up in forums, because he knows that the strictly medical side of things often doesn’t actually do it justice with how it is to actually live with something. On every forum he slogs though there’s always at least one thread about not being formally diagnosed at all or not until adulthood. And he always reads those because how could something like that get missed? But he quickly finds out it’s really pretty common (or, at least, more common than he thinks it should be).

He goes to blogs, too. Between the two, he finds a million and one things that people on the spectrum deal with that ‘official’ sites don’t tell you. Actual people relate what it’s actually like, and suddenly there’s this seed planted in his mind because holy crap does he identify with this and suddenly a lot of things make more sense.

He’s not sure how he gets there, but he ends up on an online AQ test and he takes it. He doesn’t technically score high enough, but he’s borderline (and the higher end of that, even, barely missing the lowest number, and if he’s honest, a couple questions he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer and that may have made a difference), and the site itself says, “89% of those who fall in the borderline category are diagnosed” and...

He doesn’t really know what to do with this information. He’s almost 16 and he’s old enough to understand this kind of stuff so surely if May knew she would have told him. But how the heck do you even ask about something like this? “Hey, May, am I autistic?” just wasn’t going to cut it. And if she didn’t know, that would be even more awkward. So he doesn’t. He buries the thought and ignores it the best he can.

But Tony notices because of course he does. He asks if Peter is alright and spends an awful lot of time staring at him with that expression no matter how many times he says he’s fine. Eventually, Tony does drop it with a quick “I’m always here to listen if you need to talk -- no judgment” and Peter appreciates that more than he’d like to admit, but just like with May, how the heck do you start a conversation like this one? So he still doesn’t.

For a while after, everything is fine. He turns in his project, gets an A on it, and he puts it out of his mind.

Finals pass, and summer vacation starts, which means he has more time to swing around Queens and more time to spend with Tony in the lab. This is going to be the best summer ever he’s pretty darn sure.

It’s late June, and Peter is staying the weekend because May is out of town and any excuse is a good one. AC/DC is playing over the lab’s speakers, just like normal, and he’s rambling about something when he suddenly becomes very aware that that’s what he’s doing, that he’s actually info-dumping, and -- he cuts off mid-sentence. Because he hasn’t thought about this in months, but it’s back again. What if...?

He zones out, he’s not sure for how long, but the music clicks off and suddenly Tony is sitting directly in front him, obviously concerned. Very concerned, because he’s not even trying to hide it. “Peter? What’s wrong?” No nickname? Tony is definitely on to him, and he’s not going to get away with saying ‘nothing’ this time. He stares down at his hands, and he can’t help but rub his fingers together (he doesn’t really have anything else to fidget with at the current moment so).

He’s very aware of the silence and that Tony is still waiting for an answer. But he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything.

(To Tony’s credit, he doesn’t so much as shift or sigh. He just...sits and waits. He’s not usually such a patient man, but Peter is different. He can be endlessly patient with Peter. Pepper says it’s because Peter is practically his kid, and he’s not so sure about that, but whatever.)

The silence is uncomfortable and he can feel himself starting to panic, but he forces himself to breathe and try to unscramble his thoughts. Because whatever he says, he’s determined to not say it bluntly. There has to be a subtle way of asking...maybe...right? He’s determined to try, anyway.

In the end, he settles on a mumbled, “Mr Stark? Do you think I’m... different?”

(And Tony has to steel himself because he’s known for more than six months at this point and he’s just been waiting for this conversation so you’d better not mess this up, Stark.) “Maybe. But that’s not a bad thing. Normal people don’t accomplish things worth remembering.”

“You don’t think I’m...weird? or awkward?”

“You’re a teenager. ‘Weird’ and ‘awkward’ are kinda part of the job description.”

Peter almost smiles. He knows Tony is joking with him, but... “No, I mean....” He cuts off. He doesn’t know what he means, really, and trying to figure it out is exhausting. “I don’t know. Never mind. It’s not important.”

“If something is bothering you, that makes it important to me.”

Peter isn’t sure what to think of that, and silence drags on again.

For a hot minute, Tony thinks he blew it. But then Peter speaks up again, and when he finally starts, he rambles it all out and doesn’t even try to sort it out. He just...wants it out. “I just... I don’t fit in, Mr Stark, and I’ve always known that and I’ve been okay with that because I’m just me, ya know? And if other people don’t like me, that’s on them not me, or at least that’s what I’ve always been taught and everything, it’s just I’m weird and I know it, and I’m just...” There’s a pause, and he’s not sure Tony even hears what he ends with, “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

(At this point, Tony realizes that Peter probably didn’t have any idea until a couple of months ago. Oh. Well.)

When Tony replies, it’s not how Peter thinks he will. “Does this have something to do with that mid-term project you had to do?” He finally meets Tony’s gaze again, and Tony adds with a smile, “You were acting kinda like this then, too, kid.”

He looks back down at his hands and mumbles. “Autism. That’s what my project was on.”

“And you think you are?”

Peter can’t even find it in him to nod. He just...keeps staring at his hands and waits for the other shoe to drop because surely this is it, this’ll be the thing that’s too much on top of everything else, and Tony will boot him out because he doesn’t want to deal with it.

It’s only quiet for a moment before Tony says casually, “You wanna know who else is on the spectrum? Einstein. Or, I guess I should say was, but that’s irrelevant.”

Peter is looking at him again, because What???

Tony smiles at the look on Peter’s face. “I’m serious. People who know far more about it than I do say he probably was.” He shrugs. “So your brain works a little differently. So what? It just means that you’ll see answers no one else will. So the way I see it, that just means you’re gonna change the world, kid.”

Peter decides maybe he can live with this after all.

(They go back to work, the music clicks back on, and it’s a solid ten minutes before it dawns on Peter. His head snaps up and over to where Tony is working a few feet away, and says, “You already knew, didn’t you?”

Tony just laughs and says, “Pep guessed before I did really, but I guess you could say that. I’ve had a hunch since around Christmastime.”

And that puts him more at ease than anything yet. Tony knew and still treated him exactly the same as before. He decides maybe this is okay.)

(Not a week later, when Peter shows up at the Tower to work on stuff, he finds a box on his workbench. Inside are various fidget toys. All he can do is stare as Tony comes up beside him.

“Try ‘em out. Let me know what you like. That way I can have a stash because God knows you lose things like no one I’ve ever known.” It’s all said with a fond smile, and Peter knows it’s true -- he does lose things like crazy.

Peter decides he likes the cubes, and Tony is true to his word. “This one stays here, on your table. Here’s another one that stays on your desk at home. This one is a spare for your backpack, and this one is to carry around wherever. I also have three more in the drawer over there for when you inevitably lose one.”

They’re all superhero-themed, and he’s pretty sure Tony commissioned the designs especially for him, though he can’t prove it.

At some point a weighted blanket appears in his room in the Tower after a movie night where Tony pulls out his and Peter comments how AMAZING it is. He gets another one for home for his birthday. Both are also custom-made superhero-themed colors.)

[captainkippen]

I'm sad and if you're still taking prompts, could you write a fluffy prompt of a universe where TJ does dress up as the summer to Cyrus's salt and they're just being all cute and the Mt. Rushmore costume is still completed and things are happy

I GOT YOU BRO.

Costume day is one of Cyrus’ favourite days of the year. It’s the one day of school where everyone seems to really go all out for once. People put a lot of effort into their outfits and it’s always fun to try and guess what some of the more obscure ideas are in between classes. This year, with TJ asking him to do a joint costume, he’s even more excited than usual. He feels a little bad about bailing on Andi because he knows how much she loves the Mount Rushmore costume (it’s been lurking in her closet waiting for a chance to rise again for ages much to the exasperation of everyone else - not that they’d ever ruin her fun by telling her that though). However, it’s hard to be too worried when he knows they’ve got Marty as a backup and TJ wants to do a joint costume. A joint costume of their own inside joke no less. It’s pretty awesome.

When he gets to school he picks self-consciously at the hem of his shirt until he spots TJ walking towards him and he can’t help himself from beaming. TJ’s face lights up in response. He looks so good in his board shorts and flip-flops. They greet one another with the usual handshake and bro hug, lingering for a moment when TJ doesn’t drop Cyrus’ hand immediately.

“Looking good, Teej,” Cyrus says, poking at the sunglasses on his face.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” TJ smiles. “I like the strainer. Nice touch.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Cyrus does a little bow, the strainer sliding forward as he does. TJ catches it quickly with a loud bark of laughter and places back on his head with light fingers.

“Hey, guys!” Comes Buffy’s voice from behind them and the two of them turn to see her with Marty, Jonah and Andi carrying a large papier-mache mountainside with four head holes. Cyrus’ grin widens.

“Good morning,” he greets them.

TJ gives them an odd look. “What’s with the… boulder?”

“Mount Rushmore,” Andi chirps. “That’s what we’re going as. We just have to do the makeup and stuff, we’re on our way now.”

“Oh man, you guys are going to look awesome,” TJ says. “That’s such a cool idea.”

“What about you guys?” Marty asks, then gestures excitedly at Cyrus. “Wait… don’t tell me! I totally get it. Salt!”

Buffy snorts.

“But I don’t get what TJ is meant to be..”

“Summer,” Cyrus provides helpfully.

“Salt and summer?”

“Oh! Summer-salt!” Andi says. “That’s so cute.”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Marty sighs. Jonah nudges him and shrugs as if to say ‘me either’.

TJ smiles and throws an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders. “It’s an inside joke.”

*

The rest of the day follows in a similar fashion but Cyrus finds that he doesn’t mind explaining the costume to people over and over again. Every time they do, TJ gets this big soft smile on his face like he’s really proud of himself for thinking of it and that makes it hard to feel anything but pleased. It’s confirmation over and over again that TJ really cares about their friendship, that he actually enjoys being around Cyrus and thinks about the memories that they’ve made on a regular basis.

It probably shouldn’t take as long as it does for everything to click for him.

He’s sat in English class before lunch and totally zoning out on whatever their teacher is talking about because he’s thinking about TJ’s smile when someone asked to hear the somersault story a little while ago. When he looks down at where he’s been doodling mindlessly on the page he realises that he’s filled the corner of his notes with little scribbled hearts. Oh no.

The bell goes and all of a sudden he’s incredibly glad that Buffy is in this class with him because it makes it so much easier to grab her as they head out the door. He pulls her aside and sort of just flails at her for a moment, letting loose incoherent babbling mess of words at about eighty miles an hour while she stares at him with wide eyes.

“Cyrus,” she says, putting her hands her shoulders to ground him. “Speak slower. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

And with that, he calms down just enough to say, “TJ.”

“What about him?”

“I think I have a crush on him,” he blurts out.

There’s a pause. Buffy diverts her eyes upwards like she’s praying for boys to be less stupid then looks back at him, exasperated. “You’re only just figuring this out now?”

“What?!” He squawks. “What do you mean I’m only just figuring this out? You knew? How did you know?! I didn’t even know, how could you have possibly known that!”

“We just figured-”

“We?!”

“Yes, me and Andi.”

“Andi knows?! How do you-”

Buffy clamps a hand over his mouth, effectively silencing him for the time being and gives him an impatient look. “You guys spend a lot of time together. Like a lot. And that wouldn’t be unusual except for the fact you’re always touching each other and looking at each other like you’re the only two people in the world. Did you know you talk about TJ literally all the time? And he’s the same with you. You’re in a couples costume, Cyrus. I can’t believe you didn’t realise this earlier.”

He says something but it’s muffled by her palm and she drops it. “What?”

“I said,” he repeats in disbelief. “Are you implying that TJ also has a crush on me?”

“Obviously.”

“But we don’t even know if he likes boys…”

“Cyrus, he brought challah to your Bubbe’s shiva. He reported Reed’s gun to the police for you. He made up with me, Jonah and Andi because of you. He taught you how to do a somersault and then came up with a costume for it. If he doesn’t like you I’ll eat my own foot.”

Cyrus leans back and lets his head thunk back against the wall in a stunned daze. Buffy’s right. Oh God, she’s so right. He has actual, legitimate, romantic-type feelings for TJ Kippen and TJ probably has those same feelings for him. How the hell did this even happen?

“I know your brain is like exploding right now,” Buffy says, only half-sympathetic. “But can we go get lunch now? I’m starving.”

*

Cyrus and TJ walk home together and the two of them end up sitting by the pond in the park. It’s become one of their top places to hang out, ever since the gun incident, and the peaceful way that the sun falls on them while a soft breeze blows over the water does not match the pace of the reeling thoughts in Cyrus’ head at all. He knits together a chain of daisies as he thinks - he, Buffy and Andi used to spend hours making all sorts of flowery jewellery just like that. It’s soothing.

“You okay?” TJ asks, knocking their elbows together. “You’re really quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts? Though… I don’t think I actually have a penny on me. The pockets on these shorts suck,” he jokes and Cyrus can’t help but laugh a little.

He’s always doing that. He’s always making Cyrus smile and laugh without even thinking about it. Things are so easy around TJ and it’s all hitting him at once. He’s never felt like he had to be anything but himself around him. Never felt pressured to try and be ‘normal’ or change. TJ listens to his rants and his rambles and his info-dumps. He listens to Cyrus talk about his hyper fixations non-stop, then he goes away and looks them up so he can take part in the conversation in a meaningful way. In return, he shows Cyrus the things he loves and always looks so happy to do so… as if he wants Cyrus involved. He wants Cyrus to be a part of his world.

Cyrus wants to hold his hand and cuddle up to him on the couch when they watch television. He wants to go on picnic and bowling dates, to the movies and arcade together. He wants to steal TJ’s hoodies, take tons of cheesy pictures for Instagram and make so many inside jokes together that they can’t possibly remember them all. When he looks at TJ it’s like his heart is overflowing with emotion. How did he not see it before?

“Why did you want to do a costume together?” He asks.

TJ shrugs and picks at the grass beside him. “It seemed like fun. It was a cool idea, right?”

“It was awesome,” Cyrus confirms.

“Why d’you ask?”

Cyrus shrugs and looks away. “It’s nothing. Just… don’t worry about it. Here,” he finishes threading the daisies into a circle and drops it over TJ’s head so it falls around his neck. TJ beams at him and the butterflies in Cyrus’ stomach erupt into an excited flurry.

“Do I look pretty now?” TJ asks teasingly.

Cyrus can’t stop himself when he says, “You always look pretty.”

He feels himself going red and TJ raises his eyebrows in surprise. He doesn’t look mad or uncomfortable though, just slightly amused and like he hadn’t expected Cyrus to say it. He supposes that’s fair - he hadn’t expected himself to say it.

“Thanks, Underdog,” he replies. The sincerity of his tone is startling. “You look pretty too. All the time.” And then he kisses Cyrus on the cheek, leans back and bites his lip nervously. “Sorry, was that okay?”

The space on his skin where TJ’s lips pressed is still tingling and Cyrus lifts a hand to his cheek to press his fingers against it softly as he nods. “More than okay.”

“Great,” TJ says, his dopey smile returning full force, and he lifts his own hand to take Cyrus’ from his cheek and thread their fingers together. “I’m glad you said yes to the costume.”

“I’m glad you asked.”

They grin at each other and return to talking about their days. The daisy chain that hangs around TJ’s neck gets pressed between the pages of a book and kept in a box of memories for years to come. Ten years after that day by the pond, Cyrus hangs a picture of the two of them in their matching costume on the wall of the living room in the first house they buy together. It’s pretty awesome.

[distractedhistotech]

Before MSA + 1: Halloween

Arthur had managed to put together something that acted like a diaper but which fitted into his pocket instead of around the hamster.  “It takes a little bit to put them together though…”

Cadence seemed happy with the pocket diaper considering how much time she was spending in Arthur’s shirt and coat pockets.

“I wonder if you could incorporate it into your Halloween costume,” mused Vivi.

“Uh…What’s Halloween?” asked Arthur.

Sydney and Lewis gave Arthur startled looks.  “You don’t know what Halloween is?!”

Arthur panicked a bit as he realized this was something everyone was supposed to know about. “My parents were super religious,” he said quickly.  Sydney and Lewis seemed to accept it.

“Halloween evolved from the Celtic celebration of Samhain,” explained Vivi.  “It was the ending of the year at sun down, but the new year didn’t start until the sun rose.  Being outside of time as it were meant that ghosts and the like had an easier time manifesting. It probably makes magic easier and stronger too.  At some point, people started wearing scary outfits to try and blend in or scare away the spirits.  That ritual eventually became putting on costumes for fun and, in the case of kids, going around to houses and asking for treats.”

The other kids were staring at her in surprise at the info dump, while Arthur was wondering if this meant Halloween was technically a pagan holiday.

“Actually, the Catholic church took a lot of pagan holidays and incorporated them into their religion.  Christmas takes place in December because that’s when a big festival called Saturnalia took place in the Roman empire.  Evidence suggests that Jesus was actually born in Spring,” continued Vivi as if she’d predicted Arthur’s thoughts.

The more Arthur learned the more he wondered if the adults in his early life knew what they were doing.

“Anyway…My dad makes cosplay as a side job so if you want he can make you guys costumes too,” said Sydney.

Lewis nodded. “He always makes costumes for us.”

Vivi perked up.  “Really?”

Sydney nodded. “But nothing super complicated, okay? He’s gotta budget.”

“What’s cosplay?” asked Arthur.

“Costume play,” explained Lewis.  “People dress up like characters from anime or videogames that they love.  Some of the outfits are really complicated or accurate.”

“We usually do a theme for Halloween,” continued Sydney.

“We did Sailor Moon for a couple of years,” said Lewis.

“Another time we were Ed and Al Elric,” said Sydney.  “I’m not sure what we could do with four people.”

“Power Rangers?” suggested Vivi.

“There’s usually five of ‘em though,” said Sydney.

“Is that a big deal?” asked Arthur.

“Not really,” said Lewis.  “It would just seem a little weird to be short a ranger.”

“So, we need a group of four people,” muttered Sydney.  “All I can think of are Transformers, but that might be too complicated.”

“All I can think of is the Scooby Doo gang,” said Vivi.

Silence.  The kids turned to stare at Ben.  “Would Ben let us dye his fur?” asked Lewis.

“I have no idea,” admitted Vivi.  “Would the dye be safe?”

“I have no idea,” repeated Sydney.  “Dad knows a bit about hair dye…”

“I think you could get away with leaving him white and black,” said Arthur.

“So, who would be who?” asked Lewis.

Vivi and Sydney promptly pointed at Lewis.  “Fred.” Then they pointed towards Arthur. “Shaggy.”

“You do have the muscle tone going on,” agreed Arthur.

And Lewis blushed because he was somehow the biggest one there despite (probably) being the youngest.  “W-well, who’s gonna be Velma and Daphne?”

Sydney and Vivi exchanged looks.  That was…less obvious.  Both wore glasses, had relatively short statures, and were fairly tomboyish.

“You’re shorter,” said Vivi.

Sydney pouted. “Yeah, I am.  Guess that makes me Velma…What kind of name is Velma?”

“I dunno.”

“Will we need a van?”

“None of us can drive,” pointed out Arthur.

“Maybe a toy or something,” suggested Lewis.

“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense,” admitted Arthur.

The four kids (and dog and hamster) just lay there for several minutes.  It hadn’t been a particularly odd conversation, but something in the air seemed heavy, as if something life changing had just happened.

Then Ben started licking Arthur’s face, ending the moment.  Arthur let out a laugh.  “H-hey! Stop!  Stop!”

Vivi grinned. “You’re saying ‘stop’, but you’re laughing.”  Ben decided to switch targets and started licking Vivi instead.  She giggled.  “Ben!”

“We should teach him how to talk!”  Ben turned his attention to Sydney.  “Hey! Ew!  Your breath smells like fish!  Why does it smell like fish?  You’re not a cat!”

“Ben’ll eat anything if you give him the chance,” said Vivi.

Lewis pulled a bag of chips out from somewhere and grinned.  “Like this?”  He popped the bag open.  He was immediately tackled by the dog.  “Ack!” Ben quickly stuck his head in the bag and quickly snapped up the contents before transferring his ministrations to Lewis.  “Oh yuck! Your breath really does smell like fish!”

“Hold him for me,” said Vivi.  “I’ll brush his teeth!”

The whole thing devolved into a wrestling match.  No teeth were cleaned.  Everyone needed a bath afterwards.

 Sydney had been right about the Scooby Doo costumes being fairly simple to make.  She hadn’t stopped to think about make-up and hairstyling though.

“Are you almost done?” asked Sydney Jr.

“Almost…Just one more pin…and done!”  Sydney Sr stepped back to admire how Sydney looked with the brown bob wig in addition to the rest of her costume.  “The shape of the glasses aren’t the same, but I don’t think anyone will care.”

Sydney Jr. twirled and did a hop-skip over to Vivi, who was messing with her noticeably longer orange wig.  “How ‘bout you?”

“I prefer shorter hair.  Hair this long just…gets in the way,” said Vivi as she glared distastefully at a lock of orange hair.

Sydney nodded. “I hear ya.  I just want it long enough to ponytail it.”  She glanced at the boys.  “How ‘bout you two?”

Unlike the girls, the boys weren’t wearing wigs.  They’d just had their hair styled into a close approximation of their chosen characters. Sydney Sr claimed this was because the wigs would look too bulky unless the boys were willing to shave their hair. They weren’t.

Arthur fingered his hair.  “This doesn’t feel too different from usual besides the colors.”  He was wearing green and red.  He was coming to prefer bright colors like orange and yellow.

Lewis was happily studying his reflection.  “I kind of like this hairstyle.”  He turned to Sydney Sr.  “Will you teach me how to do this?”

Sydney Sr gave him a grin.  “Sure! I’ll get you some decent hair mousse. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go change into my costume.”  On his way out, he ran into Hiro.  “So, how’d Ben like the vegetable dye?”

“He tolerated it.” That was a lie.  Ben had taken one look at the dye, snorted, and changed his fur color to the proper brown color.

“I’m leaving you alone with Noelle and the kids for a bit.  Behave now.”  And Sydney Sr hurried down the hallway.

Hiro raised an eyebrow.  The Sydneys were pretty darn odd.  Still, they got along with the rest of the family and friends, and Hiro did like them…in reasonable amounts.

He walked Ben over to the kids, who all started petting him.  “Wow, this dye is really realistic,” said Lewis.

Sydney nodded. “My dad knows what he’s doing.”

“How you holding up boy?” asked Vivi.  Ben licked her in response.  “Good to know.”

“Oh, you kids look so cute like that,” said Noelle.  “Let me get my camera!”

Hiro let the kids pose for the camera for several moments before clearing his throat. “Now, I don’t know how much you know about the holiday, but it is easier to come into contact with the supernatural starting tonight and lasting until November 2.  It’s most intense on Halloween though.  So, Mr. Scoville and I will be escorting you tonight.  I have tools prepared to chase off anything that may take an untoward interest in your group, and you will all be spending the night here.  Mr. Scoville also has some sort of repelling ability, so I’d imagine this is one of the safest places in the county.”

Arthur let out a sigh of relief.  “That’s a relief.”

“Had some bad experiences?” asked Vivi.

Arthur nodded. “I just knew they were at the end of October.  I didn’t know about the Halloween thing.  Why does it get so much worse anyway?”

“That’s not something with a simple answer,” said Hiro.  “Something makes…magic for lack of a better word more potent during these days, which makes it easier for people to see ghosts and for ghosts, along with other normally invisible entities, to become visible to people.  It’s a good time for them to be heard if there’s something they want to get across to the mundane, living population.”  Hiro glowered.  “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a tradition among the supernatural to have fun and try to scare humans.  It’s what people are expecting to happen after all.”

Ben gave a barely noticeable shrug.  Hiro wasn’t wrong, but it was more of a ‘teenagers messing around and doing things their parents won’t necessarily approve of’ sort of thing.

Arthur crossed his arms.  “Well, I don’t like it, whatever it is…”

Vivi turned to Sydney and Lewis.  “Have you guys ever noticed anything weird around this time of year?”

“I haven’t ever noticed anything,” said Sydney.  “Lewis says there are ghosts all over the place though.”

Lewis nodded. “Yeah, some are pretty scary. It’s a lot more active in the cemetery and house.  Sydney always spends the night since some of them look pretty scary.”  Lewis made a face as something suddenly occurred to him. “Uh, this is the first Halloween we haven’t slept over at my house.  Do you think Mom and Dad and Belle will be okay?”

“I put some ofudas up at your house that should keep away most dangerous entities,” reassured Hiro. “Honestly, you probably attract half of the activity so just spending time away from them will put a stop to a portion of the paranormal activity.”

“Huh, really?  I had no idea,” said Lewis.

“Oh, yes, once ghosts figure out someone can see them word spreads very quickly.”

“Wait.  I can’t see ghosts, so why do they keep following me around?” asked Arthur.

Hiro shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure why, but you…leak energy.  Being around you is like it being Halloween all the time,” said Hiro.  “You also have an aura that the supernatural find pleasing, like how kids will gravitate to a kitchen where cookies have just been cooked.”

“I could go for some cookies,” said Vivi.

“You’re going to be getting plenty of candy tonight,” said Noelle.  “You can see about having cookies after you finish off the candy.”

Vivi grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

“No,” said Hiro.

“Aw…but-”

“No, you remember what happened last time,” said Hiro.

“Ooh, what happened last time?” asked Sydney.

“When she was five she ate all of her Halloween candy at once and didn’t sleep for three days,” explained Hiro.  “She tried to feed Ben chocolate.  Dogs can’t eat chocolate.”

Ben huffed because he could eat chocolate, thank you very much.  Stupid need to hold up the illusion all the time.  He couldn’t wait until Vivi was mature enough to know what he really was so he could relax at home.  Not to mention it would be easier to snatch some of whatever that was Noelle was cooking.

Lewis must have noticed how Ben was staring longingly towards the kitchen because he grabbed a treat out of his pocket.  “Would you like a Scooby Snack?”

Eh, it’ll do. Ben snapped it up and gave Lewis a lick of thanks.

“What’s taking your dad so long?” asked Vivi.  “He said he was going to be a zombie.  It can’t take that long to put on some torn clothing and fake blood.”

Sydney grinned. “Dad put in way more effort than that. There’s latex and make-up and contact lenses…”

“Mr. Scoville’s costumes are really complicated,” agreed Lewis.

Any further conversation was interrupted by a groaning sound.  Everyone turned to see…a zombie.  It was covered in bite marks, half rotten, had clouded over eyes, and dirty, torn clothing.  It was completely unrecognizable as Sydney Sr.

“…Okay, that is a convincing zombie costume,” admitted Vivi.

“Thank you,” said Sydney Sr, briefly breaking character before going back to groaning.

“You look like a dead body!” said Arthur.  “Which I guess is the point, but it’s creepy.”

Sydney Scoville groaned again.  He sure was taking the zombie thing seriously.

“So…”  Sydney Jr held up her treat bag.  “Can we go trick-or-treating now?”

“Unnngh!”

“Taking that as a yes!”

Thankfully, the other adults decided to agree with the translation so the kids were able to head out. “There are a lot of costumes,” commented Arthur.

Vivi nodded. “Yep, it’s a popular holiday.”

“What a cute baby!” cooed Lewis at a young couple and their baby, all of them dressed like dinosaurs.

“Thank you!”

“But most of them seem to be younger than us,” continued Arthur.

“That guy’s older than us,” pointing at a guy dressed like a robot.

“People just prefer to go to parties once they get older.  I don’t know why.  They’re sooo boring,” complained Vivi.  “Where’s the darkness?  Where’s the creepy shadows?  Where’s the questioning of if there’s a ghost around the corner or if that’s a really good werewolf costume or some werewolf decided to go to the store to pick up milk?”

“There are some ghosts following us,” commented Lewis.

Arthur tensed up. “Why?”

Lewis glanced towards the ghosts.  “Are you sure he’s not a zombie?  He looks pretty dead.”

“It’s Halloween. It’s obviously a very good costume.”

“He smells like a zombie though.”

“We’re ghosts! We can’t smell!”

“Oh yeah.”

“Besides, wasn’t there a Scooby-Doo movie with zombies?”

“Since when are there Scooby-Doo movies?”

“Mr. Scoville’s costume is really convincing,” said Lewis.

“Unngh!”

“Are zombies real?” asked Sydney.

“Yes,” said Hiro. “Under very specific circumstances. It takes one of a few specific rituals. It’s very dangerous and is not something that should ever be done unless you have prior permission from the subject of interest.  Even then, it’s not recommended because of the possible side effects.”  He paused.  “Actually, this is a very complicated subject.  Let’s talk about it when we have more time.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it at all,” muttered Arthur as they walked up to a house.

They took a moment to ring the doorbell, ask for treats, and thank the woman handing out the treats. Ben tried to beg for treats.  This wasn’t allowed, and the group went on their way.

“Do ghost hunters have a lot of work on Halloween?” asked Sydney.

“Paranormal investigators,” corrected Hiro.  “While we do look for ghosts, calling us ‘hunters’ suggests we intend to hurt ghosts in some way.  That’s a last resort in cases where the ghosts in question seek to harm the living and cannot be convinced otherwise.  And whether an investigator works on Halloween or not varies.  Most will take the time off because they might get false positives.  Some like working on Halloween though since they might get results they wouldn’t usually come by.”

“That doesn’t sound very professional,” muttered Arthur.

“I agree,” said Hiro. “Personally, I feel that circumstances that modify magical strengths can be dangerous, even if it’s something to your advantage.”

“Wouldn’t that make things easier?” asked Sydney.

“Yes, which might be good in an emergency, but it can make you under or overestimate a situation.”

“How is overestimating bad?” questioned Arthur.

Hiro took a minute to think about how to describe what he was thinking.  “It’s like using a hand grenade to make a hole when a drill will suffice.”

Vivi, Lewis, both Sydneys, and even Arthur laughed.  Hiro had to admit it wasn’t the best analogy, but it’s what he came up with on short notice.

“It’s like you thought the corn was sweet so you put in the wrong amount of salt,” said Lewis.

“That’s a better analogy,” admitted Hiro.  “Anyway, once you outgrow trick-or-treating, you should find some way to spend Halloween that doesn’t involve the supernatural.  Maybe go to a party or stay home and watch movies.”

“Watching movies would be nice,” said Arthur.

“Ooh!  We could watch the Nightmare Before Christmas again!” said Vivi.

“You will not. It’s a school night,” said Hiro.  “As it is the only reason you’re spending the night together is for safety’s sake.”  He looked to Sydney Sr.  “I’m trusting you and Mrs. Scoville to get the children to sleep and awake on time.”

“Nggggh!”

“That means yes,” said Sydney Jr.

“I still wish we could spend the night at Lewis’ house,” said Vivi.  “There’s a lot more space, and it seems more fitting to spend Halloween in a haunted house.”

“Belle sometimes cries at night.  She might wake you up,” said Lewis.

“Or we might wake her up,” countered Arthur.

“I don’t wanna wake Baby Belle up!” agreed Sydney Jr.  “She’s cute when she’s sleeping.”

The subject of conversation rapidly changed to siblings and sleepovers.  Hiro watched them absentmindedly before feeling something brush against his side.

It was just Ben, who gave him a smile unseen by anyone else.  Hiro found himself smiling back.  It was nice…seeing the children all so happy like this.

It would be nice if it would last forever.

[gryffinclawinthetardis]

Fantastic Beasts Thoughts

Well, it’s been a while, my dudes. I literally saw the new Fantastic Beasts movie two days early at a special screening and am still only getting to this now. The thing is, I wanted to organize my thoughts and make sure I wasn’t being overly critical before I said anything and...I don’t think I was. The movie was a mess guys.

On the plus side, sitting with these thoughts also put me in a place where I actually think it’s would have been fixable, and I’m going to tell you how for literally no reason. Just stick with me, guys. And there will be spoilers.

1. Cut half the plots of this movie:

Credence looking for his family is all fine and well, but does not help this movie at all. Seriously, I understand they are trying to further the plot point of him wanting to be somewhere he belongs from the first movie, but couldn’t he just be trying to live a normal life in the wizarding world and learning to control his magic and Grindelwald constantly sending people after him is derailing that, making him a threat and causing the Ministry to also want him? Then we could have Credence back and not have the weird magic circus story that exists for no real reason and the moments where we stop the movie short to show a conversation with a random nanny who gives a tiny bit of exposition and then dies. We could also focus more on Grindelwald’s actual followers and power.

 Also, the side plot of Dumbledore literally being unable to fight Grindelwald, totally pointless (I’ll get to more on that one later). He could’ve just had the Ministry watching him because they think he’s searching for Credence and they have conflicting hopes for him, and have sent Newt to find Credence before Grindelwald because Newt wasn’t being watched, and boom, reason Dumbledore doesn’t go after Credence himself. 

So, basically, just have the movie about Grindelwald still trying to remove the Obscurial from Credence, and Dumbledore trying to cure Credence, and the Ministry trying to kill the Obscurial by any means necessary and you have one cohesive plot that you can show Newt using beasts to help him along the way and have Credence back, and have Grindelwald be a threat and all the side plots are pretty much flushed.

2. Better explanations: 

So I’ve heard a lot of people confused about things that happened between this movie and the first. I, myself, don’t understand the sudden jump to Grindelwald telling his followers Credence is the lost Lestrange boy. I’m assuming he just went with the flow when someone brought it up?? But I’d love a clear answer to that. I’d love a clear answer to Why Credence joined a circus in the first place. Or why Queenie turned psycho so quick (That’s also talked on more in the next point). What’s up with Grindelwald’s weird hookah magic? Please explain the series of events that led to that opening escape scene. Why didn’t he just duck out on that dude who switched places with him? He certainly didn’t seem particularly useful anyway. None of these questions are answered, and I’d love if, for all the exposition in this damn movie, we could get useful answers.

3. Don’t 180 established characters for lazy plot reasons:

Okay, we all know who I’m talking about. Queenie was established first movie to be very empathetic and, mostly even despite her seemingly air-headed demeanor and whimsical attitude, an amazingly resourceful and adept witch. So why, when the second movie rolls around, is she suddenly crazy, and then triggered by the word crazy?? She literally kidnaps her boyfriend and tries to trick him into marriage and when he’s not even mad, makes solid logical points as to why they aren’t married, and thinks at her that she’s being a bit crazy (which she is as far as we can tell), she acts like he’s in the wrong and runs off?? The chick we see this movie is not Queenie. Even worse, there is no explanation for why she is losing it, and not being as understanding as we know her to be. Not to mention, making her crazy actually diminishes what they were trying to do. How much more terrifying and awe worthy would it have been if, instead of turning a crazed woman to his side, Grindelwald took our original Queenie and turned her to his side? Or, even better, how about that plot point not exist at all? 

4. Let Dumbledore be gay:

This one is just annoying. Honestly, why couldn’t they have just let him be hesitant to go after Grindelwald because he’d loved him once? Why is that so hard to do? Why mention it if it means nothing to any of the established canon for mainstream audiences? I’m just disappointed in this one. If they had dropped the whole blood oath crap and just let him have the moment in the mirror where it’s just them, that would’ve been enough for me to not be as mad as I am.

5. Stop ruining established canon for pointless fan service: 

I’m talking to you McGonagall and Nagini. There is a right way to do fan service, Nicholas Flamel and going to Hogwarts to see Dumbledore where examples of that. Giving us lore and then taking a giant dump all over it is not. McGonagall should not have been at Hogwarts, you literally have five movies to bring her in and this was the wrong one to do it in. You wanted to show through the raise of Voldemort, so wait for that to show McGonagall. Don’t shove her in early for literally no reason at all. 

Also, let’s talk about how dumb Nagini existing this movie was. She does absolutely nothing to further this plot. She’s just there, making sad eyes at Credence and turning into a snake. She has so few lines, the movie would literally barely be any shorter if she never said anything at all. Every scene she’s in could’ve gone exactly the same without her, with the most minimal changes. Have Credence escape the circus on his own (or subscribe to my idea and don’t do that circus thing at all). Have Tina be the one asking him not to go with Grindelwald since they already have an established rapport, and boom, movie is literally hardly any different (once again, unless we go with my plot). 

6. Don’t waste interesting characters:

Newt’s brother, Thaddeus and his fiancee Leda actually seemed to have pretty good chemistry with Newt, and they did this really clever thing where we see how uncomfortable Newt is with them which makes us realize how close he really is to Tina, Queenie, and Jacob in the first film because it’s a vast contrast to how he is with his brother and former best friend. Then they go and give neither of them anything to do the whole movie and cap it off by killing Leda off at the end. I’m not gonna lie, her talents were wasted, and to make matters worse, I don’t actually care enough about her by the end of the movie for the the death to cause me sadness. Something compounded by the fact that it comes in the wake of Queenie’s betrayal, which is by and large more upsetting. Explore Newt’s possible feelings of abandonment by Leda. Have her have a useful job, one that maybe makes her privy to info about what the Ministry is up to and pass it on to Newt or Dumbledore. Something! Anything but that dumb convoluted sibling plot line that reeked of ignorance and poor taste. 

Also, give Thaddeus more to do. Explore his dynamic with Newt more. Have him more torn about siding with his brother and Dumbledore or siding with the Ministry. He does little else, besides telling Newt the Ministry is watching him (something that presents no hindrance to Newt and his travels whatsoever), and looking worried or strained in places with the other Aurors. Have his job as Auror conflict with Newt’s plans more. Have him chasing his own brother. Like, give him something to do. 

7. Flashbacks or Exposition, not both:

I don’t have much to say other than it halted the movie to show us stuff we were already told. Either show or tell, don’t do both.

8. Make Grindelwald more of a threat:

He doesn’t actually do much in this movie. None of his speeches seem that charismatic. The way he interacts with his followers doesn’t seem very charismatic. We get a lot of people telling us he is, but I never see it. He kills some people who aren’t prepared to fight him, and he has a single fight scene which was actually pointless because he should’ve just escaped and left a dude to die in his place which would’ve shown his real menace at least a bit more than what we got. The running joke is, nobody really knows what the crimes of Grindelwald are this movie. I mean, yes there is the obvious stuff: murder, gathering without a permit, escaping police custody, maybe some secrecy issues?? But for a movie literally named for his crimes, there is still a surprising lack of actual bad stuff he does.

He has one really clever moment and it doesn’t happen until the very end of the movie so it honestly feels too little too late. I will mention that it’s a great example of how well matched he a Dumbledore were though, because we’re led to believe they both knew what would happen if the Aurors showed up at his rally. It’s honestly his best moment, in my opinion.

9. Don’t do that ending you did: 

It’s dumb. It’s terrible. It better be a lie. Once again, it takes a dump on well established canon to do something that isn’t even necessary. i just...no. Don’t do any of that you did. 

[theophenes]

Seattle Nights, Byte 1: We were Running in the 90′s

The thing you need to remember about shadow-runners, as we begin this story, is that runners are not happy, well-adjusted people. No happy, well-adjusted person decides to live their life as a criminal mercenary of varying use and expendability to a wide variety of patrons in the hope of scoring enough money to do other things. No reasonable person wakes up one day and decides, “You know, I think I'm going to run around the city as a pawn for competing corporate, private, and criminal interests!” while making an omelet and smiling at their nice lawn.

Well-adjusted, happy people, with sane, reasonable lives, go into things like accountancy or mystical beauty school or amateur drone racing or making little holograms of dancing hot-dogs to lay over furniture on your AR goggles. This crappy little dive bar in Renton, however, was home to people who had far bigger problems on their minds than simply paying the bills and keeping the tedium from killing them. Hell, half of the people in this bar were worried about people who couldn't spell tedium trying to kill them.

In the back, near a particularly poorly lit fish tank, sat two men, with a woman between them. The one on left, with his back to the bar, looked so damn normal it was frankly strange that he was here. The man had all the appearance of a well-mannered corporate secretary—including the expensive suit. He nodded, sternly, looking at the other two. “I'd like to thank you for considering retaining me for this operation,” he said with a polite bow. He was so stiff and coifed, it seemed like he was likely an AI or some sort of cold-blooded cephalopod in a skin suit. Blonde hair that never seemed to move, frameless glasses with square lenses, and a three-piece suit that seemed perfectly tailored. His tie and pocket square were both dark red. The jacket and pants were a simple metallic gray affair with black, needle thin stripes. If the plain white human man with a height and weight that seemed so average as to be on purpose had any sign of emotion is his message, it certainly wasn't noticed by the two he addressed. Between the stiffness and the suit, people took to calling him “Jeeves.” For his part, he let it stick.

The other two, on the other hand, well, they didn't look like the type to hire runners. One of them, a large, dark-skinned orc in a heavily tailored jacket design to show off how hard it was to make a jacket in his size, wearing several gold chains and a rather thick turtle-neck. His posture was conspiratorial, his movements slow and stiff, as if he had been sore from something. The woman beside him wore some odd, extravagant not-quite-Chinese robes, her large horns and heavily-braided hair adding a look that earned her the nickname “Oni Queen” among other fixers. She had been happy to set up the meeting, but the employer wanted to meet her runner in person. No idea why.

“You read the files, Mr....Jeeves,” the Orc said. “I've got the check in hand. Can you deliver the goods to me?”

The blonde man grinned. “I can, but I'll need more talent.”

The Orc shrugged. “Yeah, no offense, but you're not exactly the guru of Wu. To get and reach this prize, you'll need a good third eye. No mage eye goggles, you need a drekkin' pro here,” he said calmly. “But I've sized you up in person, and you skills ain't hurtin'. You've got moves and confidence. And frankly, you're in my budget,” he said with a slight chuckle, his New York accent clicking in slightly with the weird, sing-songy delivery. “Still, it's easy. You get in, you steal back what's mine, bring the ruckus on the goons who took it. Now, are you ready to bring the coming of Wu, the new neon,” the orc said as he raised an eyebrow, “Or are you not playing with a full deck?”

The blonde man took a second to parse all the slang and nodded confidently. “I can assure you,” he said gently, “I've got a few aces up my sleeve, regardless of the deck. And I'm certain our dear queen has a mystic in mind to aid me in handling your project,” he extended a hand to her.

“Presumptuous,” she began with a smirk, “but not incorrect, Jeeves. I have a man, named Fong. He is experienced, but new to Seattle. He would be happy to assist you. However, he refuses to work with those he has not met,” she said as she produce a data-stick from somewhere in the complex structure of her hair, resting upon and woven with her horns like some bizarre pagoda of overwrought Wu Jen tradition. Whether or not the troll was actually Chinese, or just played up the incense master gimmick was a matter of debate. Her knack for knowing things, however, wasn't.

“The data-stick will give you relevant contact info. You need only text him. When the operation is finished, you may inform me, and I will see to it that payment and exchange are handled. Now, you two tend to your business. I need to finish preparing tomorrow's drink specials,” the troll stood up from the table, and moved towards the kitchen of the dive, as the blond man stood up as well.

“I'll see you after we've confirmed the merchandise is in our possession, Mr. Johnson.”

The orc nodded. “I suppose fake names are the rule, even if I'm known? Do your thing, Jeeves. I'll make sure you got enough Nuyen to make some waves, as per the contract with Oni.”

Jeeves gave a very small smile and slightly inclined forward. “Your earnestness is appreciated. I'll take it from here.” With that, the man dressed like a corporate flunky wandered up and out of the bar, tapping away and uploading the data to his comm-link.

--------------

Fong's 'pad', to put it politely, was a dump in Puyallup. Originally, years ago, it'd been some kind of a boxing gym. The sort of place that would've trained fighters and occasionally lent “talent” to local gangs for extra muscle.

Fong was by no means a trainer. He was an adept, but he wasn't known for taking on students, or doing much of anything other than winning the occasional local brawl. Still, this half-burned building, with some canvas on the floor, was better at keeping out the acid rain than some other parts of town, and if he'd been honest about it, there were fewer cash-cop patrols here. Not that there were any non-private cops in Seattle, mind you. Every officer on the beat was owned, either by Lone Errant, or some in-house corp security investigator with limited jurisdiction and a chip on their shoulder. Either way, the Barrens were better. Safer, at least until a little start-up cash could be had. Or the occasional fling with someone who had an actual bed.

Fong himself looked like a character from a bad action Trid. His outer robe was black and green, with small embroidered bits here and there. His beard—a rarity for an elf—was this white, wispy thing. He didn't look a day over twenty-five, but his hair and beard were white as clouds that were, well, not festooned with toxic sludge. His slacks were also black, but in that oh-so-futuristic hex pattern that was all the rage six years ago. Of course, anachronistic fashion added to his charm, if he was to be believed. His skin had a sort of ruddiness to it, with a few freckles on his arms on the rare occasions he rolled up his sleeves, or the less rare occasions he removed his shirt. His eyes seemed to always be cheerful, and he seemed to have a near permanent shit-eating grin.

While Fong sat, meditating with the stillness of a tree amongst the rubble, if a tree had been mildly hung-over. For in this moment, there was time, not only to reflect, but to transcend the limitations of the physical. To attune to the power of the mystical, and channel the raw energy of barrens into a heated, passionate wisdom. For in the chaos of this city, there a chance at enlightenment, and ascendance. Soon, he could move past the physical, and transcend the limitations of metahumanity to become something akin to a god. Something akin to a legend. A few more moments, and his meditation could afford him--

beeep-borp. Unknown caller. Beeeeep-borp. Uknown call--

The elf grabbed the phone. So much for seeking enlightenment in starvation. The monk sniggered to himself and answered the phone. “Only about eight people have this number. So, who has the universe added to my phone list?” His voice seemed cheery and slightly rehearsed, as if greeting a customer more than a person.

“Mr. Fong, I presume,” the sterner voice answered. “I'm a runner. Queen Oni believes you could assist me with a...mystical matter.”

A snicker. “Probably. I'm decent enough with magic. A bit out of practice as far as runs go. What details have you come to offer before the altar of my wisdom?” He said, a bit of dry cheesiness as a wry grin spread across his face. Half of the grin because he might have finally found some paying work, and half because he was likely enjoying teasing this man.

“Mr. Fong, my name is Jeeves. I will send you the details via comm.”

“Afraid my winning looks will reduce you to jelly? Fair enough,” the elf said with a chuckle. “Shoot me the details. I'll let you know if it's up my alley, and we'll meet up and talk shop. Happy to consider doing business with you, Jeeves.”

Jeeves simply made a severely noncommittal “Mmhmm” noise.

The elf smiled weakly. How did a guy scold you over the phone without a word? That was some talent. “Gotcha. Not the friend-making type. Still, I'll get back to you with a response after I'd had time to eye your dossier.”

“Very well. I expect to hear from you shortly, Mr. Fong. Time is not necessarily on our side.”

“Can and will handle it, my main man. Unless you're a lady with a voice modulator. Or a really dry accent. In that case, you do you!” The monk made a cheerful finger gun at a nearby rusted over turn-buckle, which did not seem to appreciate his plucky can-do attitude any more than the irascible well-dressed man on the other end of this conversation. Mr. Fong hung up and sighed. “Well, a deal's a deal. Let's see if this is worth it,” the elf said as he opened a message attachment. Big file.

The elf raised an eyebrow. “Client says they're missing a lost family heirloom, it's in a storage facility in a Horizon archive section for study...” he grunted. “Smash and grab, they probably just want some magic eyes to evade any para-security.....what are we grabbing, anyhow? Isn't Horizon into media production and PR? Does some local suit want to go antiquing....oh, there's the image. Oh. Shit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeetttttttt.”

The elf stopped reading, typing back a text only comm message. “I'm in. I realize we haven't discussed payment, but I'm sure you'll come up with a fair rate. What has the client told you about this heirloom, and where are they from?”

“Not much. Just that it was taken and they want it back. Also, he's from New York, but tried to hide his accent. Why? What do you know about it?” The text came back.

“Not w/comms,” the elf said, typing with a finger while reading the dossier up and down intensely. “U kno Tasheem's Grub n'Gas? dive in Puyallup. Rough patch=secure.”

There was a long pause, were Jeeves was apparently typing something. However, after what was around five minutes of either hesitation or consistent revision, a third channel appeared.

Hel's Harpy has been added to the chat.

Mr. Fong's glorious white brows knitted together in a shape that would've made a numerologist blush if there had been one handy. Meh. Best to play it cool. “New party-goer? Groovy. We can meet at 7 tonight?”

He added coordinates to the chat.

Jeeves hesitated again and type something. “She insisted. She prefers to size you up herself.”

Mr. Fong sent an holo-ji of a disco-dancing elf. “Good. She can join our briefing party. I'll arrive early, ask the bouncer for Cloudy Fong. I have a usual spot at this point.”

Hel sent a holo-ji of a burning drumstick. “Order an appetizer, something spicy.”

“Please stop with the holo-ji's, I'm trying to avoid flashing lights right now.”

“Deal. 4 both,” Mr. Fong tapped out, still half-immersed in the dossier. So many details!

Hel sent an “image” made of text in the shape of a pouting ani-trid character. “Fine, but don't skip on the chilis. wierdo. I could use a good burn.”

---------------------------

Calling Tasheem's a 'rough patch' was the greatest proof that Fong still had either healthy optimism about Seattle, or a truly sick sense of humor. The place smelled like a mixture of a landfill, a barbecue restaurant, and an engine shop. The lean, cranky old cuss at the door glared over at Jeeves, and the stout, dour orc woman behind him.

If Jeeves was too clean and sharp and symmetrical and corporate, the Orc girl behind him was anything but. Her jacket seemed to be slapped together from a few dozen types of holographic projection suits and flex-screen systems, all alternating between desktop backgrounds and seemingly random advertisements. The colors kept alternating, making her large duster look like a robe of mutating stained glass, with a tank top that had the face of Marlon Brando made entirely out of mathematical symbols on under it. The irregular polygons of her jacket flickered as she produced an e-cig from her glowing jacket of obnoxious logos, which was at least marginally better than a trench-coat of dark obnoxious pathos. Her pants were simple fatigue cut, a sort of strange, shimmering metallic blue tint, almost glittery. She had something not entirely resembling a bird or a small squirrel on her shoulder. Her hair looked like a mix of dreadlocks and fiber optic cables, her eyes the sort of fake green color you expect to see on soda cans that keep you awake for twelve hours. Her tusks were both sharp and meticulously clean, given her smoking. The digital cigarette glowed briefly, and the orc exhaled a cloud of orange smoke, which smelled not entirely unlike undercooked tea and slightly aged tangerine zest.

Jeeves blinked, fidgeting with his cuff links. “We're here to see...” he said, attempting to be cordial, “Cloudy Fong.” he continued.

The cranky old  biker with a chromed out arm and a bad attitude looked them over and nodded. “Don't cause trouble. We're over due for a shoot-out this week,” he muttered as he opened the door to the crappy faux-retro gas station.

The duo entered the den of random iniquity, the smell of beer, wings, and the occasional heavy cloud of drug smoke wafted through the air. The place seemed fairly quiet, save for a very, very drunk troll with an indeterminately European accent and a leather bustier singing....some ballad. It too drunk, too sluggish, and not in a language known to either of them.

Mr. Fong waved at the two of them, smiling. “Jeeves, Hel! How are you. Come over! I got us some fallout wings, and a few fried edamame poppers with mega-mozza sauce.” He munched on a popper and smirked.

Jeeves sat uncomfortably, and “Hel” sat on a barstool, staring down the white-haired man. “How the hell did you know it was us, Fong? I don't remember sending you any damn vacation photos,” she said bluntly.

Mr. Fong chuckled. “Because Jeeves moves almost as stiff as he chats on the phone. The only people wearing suits like his in this neighborhood are runners and slumming schmucks who are about to get mugged. Have a hot popper, they’re great. Fried smoke pepper stuff and other stuff, battered in cheese and beer and stuff. Totally good soy junk! And please, it’s Mr. Fong.” He said with a smirk.

Hel plucked an appetizer, and continued staring into Mr. Fong as she ate it. “So, you're the mage? No offense, chummer, but you don't look like a shaman. You look like some wage-slave with a bad golf swing.”

Mr. Fong shrugged. “I'm a mystical kung-fu master—and my swing is great, if you ask my exes. The illustrious Mr. Fong, at your service. Now, let's enjoy the show.” Mr. Fong smiled as he watched the woman at microphone, humming along to the tune of the music, muttering the lyrics that were clearly not being sung by the woman, or otherwise visible.

“How can you understand her singing?”

“I can't,” Mr. Fong  out, tapping the side of his head, “but I can see her emotions. I assense the performer, and read what the song means to her as she sings it. It's good practice. Plus, Karaoke isn't about what you sound like, it's about your heart.” He nibbled on a “chicken fallout” wing.

The troll concluded her solo, and Mr. Fong smiled and wiped his eye. “Wow. She really loved the one she was singing about. How sweet,” he said with a smile. “Okay, so let's talk about your package.”

Hel choked on the wing she was eating. “Damn, and we haven't even ordered a entree yet. You always this flirty, skinny?”

Jeeves grunted. “Please try to keep it together. Is this location...secure?”

Mr. Fong shook his head. “Better, it's full of angry drunk go-gangers who don't care about anything unless I'm buying. Anyhow, your box” The orc snickered again-- “is the container of some very primo merch. An album,” he said with a smirk. “The only one of its kind. 'Once upon a time in Shaolin.' Originally made by the Wu-Tang clan.”

“Some sort of magic cult?” Jeeves asked, a blond eyebrow arching in a rare moment of facial expression for the taciturn drone.

“A rap group, around in the early 1990′s and late 2000′s,” he said with a slight wave of his hands. “It was printed as a one-time exclusive, then sold to the highest bidder, who leaked the tracks publicly, destroying the supposed rarity of the album. Millions of dollars, spent on a folly,” he clasped his hands together as if to demonstrate a hammer hitting nothing of importance.

“Why does this matter?” Jeeves inquired. “It's an interesting piece of music history. Why would we need an adept to find it? Why would we need magic?”

Fong grinned. “The Wu-tang were obsessed with kung-fu and eastern mysticism. Their name is based on the traditions of Wu-Tang and Shaolin kung-fu story gimmicks. And Rumor is, they weren't making all of it up. There's some folks out there who believe that not every track was released, and the physical copy has hidden connections to sixth-world knowledge. I'd bet some good nuyen that our collector believes there's some mojo involved as well,” he said.

Jeeves seemed unimpressed by the revelation. “So, our client believes that Horizon has an actual magic album form before the start of the sixth world, and that we can acquire it? How could there have even been mages before the awakening?”

The orc with a not-parrot on her shoulder shook her head as her coast turned slightly more violet. “Orcs and trolls didn't appear all at once with friggin' fanfare, it was over the course of a few years. Why wouldn't magic do that, too? A dribble before the gods-damned monsoon of insanity?”

Fong nodded. “Or, ancient rituals which were of no value then, but now, are far greater. If the album has hidden data or tracks, it could lead to something major. Or a wild goose-chase.”

Jeeves stared at Fong as if an explanation was forthcoming.

Fong smiled warmly. “I understand your skepticism,” he said as he ate another wing. “However, the true power of wisdom comes from knowing all possible truths, so we are not trapped in denial when the right one presents itself,” he said, doing his best to sound sagely. After all, Martial Mystique was always in demand. “The main reason these rumors are given such weight is that of the leaked tracks, there are a total of twenty-six tracks. However, most stories have thirty-five, or thirty-six, chambers of Shaolin. In addition, the guy who leaked them, a Pharmaceutical bigwig, was known for leading people on, being a smug little ass, and price-fixing critical medications. A real piece of work. So, it's fully possible there was another disc, with ten tracks, that nobody acknowledged, and he lied about the existence of to be a jack-ass.”

Fong stroked his beard, attempting to look thoughtful. “The reason your buyer believes such things, is that he may be of a sect tat teaches of the way of Wu Tang, or Wudang. Focus on a form of Tai Chi and pray to spirits of wealth and criminal debauchery—religion for and by runners, based in New York. And if our buyer is right, the relic matters. If our buyer is wrong, than it's a truly expensive paperweight. However, now you why I'm considered necessary.”

Jeeves nodded.

Hel took a puff of her electronic smoke and sighed. “New question: You didn't learn all this shit yesterday on a vision quest. Why the hell do you know so much about it?”

Fong smiled. “I'm well-read on weird martial traditions, even the ones I've never dealt with. Never know how's gonna be chasing me with a scimitar, Best to plan for it, though.”

Hel stared. “You normally got a drekking lie that ahlf-assed in your pocket, or is it a fire sale on bullshit today?”

Mr. Fong shrugged. “Yeah, I've dealt with the Wu before. If our buyer's with them, than it's a big deal. They talk about recovering it all the time.”

“Dealt with how?” Jeeves said, his tone pointed for the first time in this casual dining environment.

“Not important. That having been said, I'm not meeting your Johnson. I'm helping you get the goods, legit or not. If you want to use this info to up your price, that's on you. Personally, though, I want them to have it. If it's the real deal...well, that'll be far from dull, to say the least,” the elf mused, suddenly wincing.

Hel blinked. “You okay? Having a hard time keeping your weirdness down, Fong?”

“Nuclear fallout sauce...from wings...in eye...bathroom!” Mr. Fong bolted with the kind of speed usually reserved for mutant cyber-ninjas in bad Wuxia trideo releases. For a brief moment, he was like the wind. Then he was gone. Then a series of expletives in Mandarin were bellowed from the bathroom.

Jeeves nodded to Hel, opening a silent comm channel.

Your thoughts?

He's slick, but he wasn't lying, the Orc contributed. We keep him in. For now, at least.And if he screws us, we ventilate him.

Understood. Jeeves always was one for brevity. Polite, brief, clean—more like a surgeon than a runner.

The elf walked back, face slightly wetter, smiling warmly, his eyes closed. “Okay, so I'm sure you guys finished talking about me while I wasn't here. What's the verdict? Slot, Marry or Kill?”

Hel snickered again. “Hire. For now. And if you screw up, you have  to deal with whatever consequences happen.”

Mr. Fong grinned. “Threats and bribes, all at once? Be still my beating heart. Anyway, thanks for sticking around for the time being. Next time, we'll meet at a place of your convenience. How soon do we want to make our move on this?”

Jeeves nodded. Finally, business. “Tomorrow night.”

Mr. Fong nodded. “Good. Enough time to say my prayers and focus my chakras. Give me a tiem to met you tomorrow, and we'll run this little party. Until then, I've got a date with the moon,” Fong let out with a shrug. “Also, if we do any victory celebrations, you guys will buy. I'm not gonna have much until we get paid. Last couple of nu-yen went to my appetizer platter here.”

“How dire of straits were you in, Fong?” Jeeves seemed rather blunt. “Seems odd to gamble your last bit of cred on a job interview.”

Mr. Fong shrugged. “When you're as awesome as I am, you learn to throw all your chips on the table when it counts. And if you dislike that lie, I have others,” he said as he slowly rose from the table, folding his hands into his sleeves dramatically. “See you tomorrow. If you'll excuse me, I need to prepare to aid you.”

Hel shook her head, still smiling. “I can't tell if you're a fucking idiot or a damn genius, elf boy.”

Fong cocked his head to the side, the picture of innocence. “I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. But please, stick to Mr. Fong. Elf-boy sounds like some sort of jab at my metatype, when so many other things exist to be criticized,” he said with a wink. “Like my fashion sense, or inability to remember who I'm supposed to be flirting with,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, going for real now. See you tomorrow, bring your best weapons and schemes.”

Hel shrugged. “Does anything bother that guy? Buddha on a god-damned stick.”

Jeeves shook his head. “Maybe you should wait until we work with him a few times before you decide to use your winning personality, Hel.”

Hel shook her head. “And you'd know, Mr. walking stiff? Neither of us are people...people,” she said with a grunt. “Pretty-boy is, though. Might be nice to have someone working with us on the regular who's that friggin' chill under fire, if he isn't a total drekhead.”

Jeeves chuckled. “You almost sound like you like toying with him. Still, our operation could use a few more hands. We'll treat this as an audition, then,” the blonde man sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Even if he is just a fool, he might be useful.”

Outside, Mr. Fong kept walking. This could work. And if that box was actually holding the lost manual of the Wu-tang, then...well, that'd be worth exploring after they got their hands on it. Still, letting the Nu Wu get the manual would tips the scales in Manhattan, and that'd be a hell of a thing. But hey, the Wu weren't the worst people to take over the New York underworld, by any stretch. Hell, The Rotten Apple was so corporate, odds are the album would end up starting a whole new shadow-war over there. Mr. Fong smirked, looking up at the moon. “Huh. I think they actually liked me. That's nice. A new crew....would be nice.”

For now, it was time to rest, and prepare. Tomorrow night, would be a hell of a ride.

[blackwelldestiny]

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Win Back Ex Boyfriend