#they were both neurodivergent but dude this is a date with a stranger and you message me when i GET to the place that you’re running

[dykefever]

just 2 have a little complain but i’ve been on some dates recently with two dif girls and both were like. so late. one was on the first date she kept pushing back the time and then still arrived half an hour late. and then yesterday i got to the park on time for date with a different girl and then receive a message ten minutes after saying they’re going to be another fifteen minutes. and she ends up saying we should reschedule because i had to be somewhere two hours after the scheduled time because she’s still on her way she was going to be like forty minutes to an hour late. like i’m not waiting that long man

[soapyoapy]

thoughts on dnp's new video

hey y'all. no one asked for it but here's a review of dip and pip's outfits from their new video from a costume design student's perspective.

*disclaimer: this is all for fun and totally my opinion, everyone has a different style, i’m just working with what they’ve worn before and what they seem to like wearing*

Category 1: Y2Gay

Phil:

🤔 i don’t know how to feel about this one… it’s not horrendous but dare i say he didn’t go far enough. i’m an ARMY so i can see j-hope wearing this but perhaps the reason why is would work is because he’d add like a white bucket hat, some sunglasses, and some colorful jewelry to fully commit to the maximalist style. also phil doesn’t really suit the baggy style imo. correct me if im wrong.

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️ (add some accessories)

Dan:

honestly, i love the sweater. i saw it in the photocards and loved it. this is how dan should wear color tbh. my only critiques would be: a. what are the straps for??? and b. i wonder how it’d look with a dark colored tank top underneath it instead of a black one ����🤷

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Category 2: Americore

Dan:

umm…keep the jacket on. i’m sorry, the shirt is too much 😅😅 also i’m so confused by the pants. that’s it. maybe instead of that shirt have just like a nice white shirt. or maybe phil’s out of date gaming console shirt. the eagles are just a lot to look at. also ditch the crocs. again, sorry. a good black chonky sneaker would fit the look better.

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Phil:

i agree with phil that the blue shoes don’t really fit. but i have a solution. wear some white sneakers and the blue mesh top from the q&a video or just a matpat-style blue jacket. other than that, this outfit works. especially with the blonde hair.

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Category 3: Stranger Materials

Phil:

phil, please please please get that jacket fitted. it looks ever so slightly too big on him. hot take: the pants aren’t terrible. it’s just terrible with the jacket. the lines are not going in the same direction and it’s really distracting. i think they’d both have the effect he wanted just on their own. not together.

rating: ⭐️⭐️

Phil pt2:

i agree with dan. the pants are the issue. they aren’t the right shade of blue or the same pattern. major clash and if they were performing, it’d be very distracting.

rating: ⭐️

Dan:

ok. at least it matches 😝 considering he bought is from an ✨adults only website✨ not bad. would probably make too much noise to be an actual outfit he’d wear onstage with mics and all that but for fashion…kinda slays

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Category 4: Serving Shorts

Phil:

🫢 umm…ok so, how did he not know the shorts were see through?? perhaps it did show on the website but if it was from the same place as the vest and the vest was mesh then you’d assume the shorts were too?? idk anyways. its giving backup dancer construction worker if that makes sense. i’d say go all the way add some fingerless gloves and some design to the shirt and/or vest. go full jojo siwa with it. i do also love the color coordination.

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

Dan:

eh…that’s it. it’s not awful it’s not great. maybe it he coordinated the blue with the top. it just looks like a dude headed to the gym. i like the shoes. they do look like the cover of a 90s boy band album. nothing amazing. if the star was blue and silver i’d like it more

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Bonus Round:

Dan:

honestly…as a neurodivergent person, this is just a good item 🤣🤣 it looks so soft. not even from a designer perspective but a sensory perspective. i’d buy it. maybe in a different color but still. (also if it’s like an ✨adults website✨ thing plz let me know idk anything im aroace 😅)

rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (for the goofs)

Phil:

question. where would you wear this other than a disco/party? this outfit looks really fun. the only thing i'd add to this would be some white boots or sneakers with rainbow laces.

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (for the goofs)

thank you for reading the ramblings of a junior costume design student who is using this video as procrastination from doing their lighting design homework. I hope you all have a good rest of your day! ✌️✌️ go ahead and tell me if any of the things I said were wrong i don't know anything 😊😊

[doberbutts]

Your tags are interesting to me because I am not autistic but am neurodivergent and the large majority of men I've dated and partnered with have been somehow ND themselves and when writing romance and intimacy I almost exclusively write reference 1: myself and experiences I personally have had 2: men I have had as friends and/or partners 3: people and scenarios I find incredibly attractive.

I don't know if I would specifically call it an autistic thing because I have seen it in non-autistic neurodiverse people, but I have also seen it often enough to know it's more common than a lot of folks realize.

I also used to experience similar prior to transitioning. I never really considered my own capacity to be found attractive to someone and in fact was so used to being treated as the ugly daughter/sister that when someone would voice attraction, it would make me feel BAD and I would reject it out of hand as that person just trying to be nice about my obvious ugliness. Literally the worst way to convince baby!me to give you a chance was to say you thought I was visually pleasing because I straight up wouldn't believe you and would get incredibly suspicious about what you wanted from me. Vs now I preen and coo when dudes drool over me online and in person.

And I think I've given Panic a little of both, but a more healthy state of mind than I had when I was young. He's a tiefling that was raised surrounded by humans, and while his family came to accept him before he was old enough to remember anything different, visitors to the monastery were frequently quite frightened of him when he would walk into the room. That is, of course, why he chose to be called Panic.

So the concept of being wanted based on physical traits is a little foreign to him currently- as a traveling monk making just enough money to feed himself by punching bandits and rebuilding wells, most people regard him with a healthy amount of suspicion and keep a wide berth. He's a constant stranger and he's not a folk hero so he doesn't get Wyll's "beloved by the masses" reception when he rolls up to civilization looking for some food. He doesn't do big acts of heroism and in-game he asks the bards to please not sing about him (humility is prized by his patron) so most of his experiences with other people are one-offs.

And also some of it's just Panic himself. He's never thought too hard about pursuing romantic relationships and doesn't even know what gender(s) he likes, Astarion's the first to really tempt him and he's still not sure if he wants to move forward with that or how he wants to respond to the offer. In-game they did have sex but that's mostly bc I wanted the approval points lmao it's fade to black after he gets bit and for whatever reason Astarion never took off his pants even tho Panic did. So for all I know they did a little bit of heavy petting and dry humping and decided to call it there. Which I think would be more accurate for Panic considering, again, his high insight modifier let's him see through the front and I don't think he'd be comfortable pushing for more than that as a result.

So Astarion comes up to him in camp all flirting and eyelash batting and Panic's like uhhh OK. Logically I know you are actively flirting with me. And I suppose the compliment is appreciated. The other night was pretty fun. But A: how do I even respond to this and B: it doesn't really seem like you want it and you not wanting it kills what interest I have in continuing. So instead I'm going to give you a mildly confused look and say Some Monk Bullshit about balance and discipline and give your shoulder a squeeze before going back to what I was doing.

And in the mean time Astarion's like "?????? That usually works what the fuck??? Tf you mean???? Hello??? I'm super hot and you're supposed to be drooling over me wym good morning Astarion the petals of the flowers give praise to the sun today??? I didn't fuck you to have a discussion about mental peace achieved through perfecting your breathing I did it because you're supposed to be seduced by me???"

can i be thirsty for panic in ur inbox

You can. Panic's reaction would be sort of bemused. He's not used to being the center of attention

[lovely-necromancy]

The Moon and The Stars Ch2

Pairings: Marc Spector/Reader, Steven Grant/Reader, Jake Lockley/Reader

Word count: 6128

Content: gn!reader, autistic!reader, autistic!Marc/Jake/Steven, magic, slowish burn, show and comic depicted DID

You were on your way to Steven's – well the system's flat, Layla had managed to give you a basic run down on the boys' condition. And the arrangement they'd formed, a system that shares and co-fronts a single body instead of mad grabs for control that end up with someone blacking out during high stress situations. It may have been a little insincere but you couldn't help but be fascinated with them and their situation, three separate individuals leading their lives through one body. You made a mental note to do a bit of research into dissociative identity disorder; all you could really remember from your psychology class back in high school was how confident your teacher had been saying it didn't really exist and was more of an ailment attention seekers made. That had always rubbed you the wrong way, if it wasn't a “real” condition as he'd put it then there wouldn't have been a need to name it. Just furthered your belief that people are so quick to shoot down what they don't understand.

After Steven had finished his shift he'd lead you through the streets of London back to his building. Along the way you'd been relaying the bits and pieces of information you gathered on the time traveler.

“Wait – sorry back up, how d'you know he's autistic?” Steven stops you mid sentence.

Layla looks over at Steven exasperated, “Seriously Steven, that's the part you're stuck on. Not the time traveling seven year old on the loose?”

“I mean it's just this is a very strange situation to be involved with yea, lot stranger than what we normally handle. Don't get me wrong 's a lot nice than them too but...just...it's all...and then you,” you're walking backwards as you look at both of them, using your force field to nudge any on coming pedestrians out of your way.

Steven's impressed by the complete nonchalance you exude – he hears Marc's bubbling paranoia over it, Jake silent like usual. It's Jake's silence that puts him at ease, ironically, as though the protector of the system being keen with this situation somehow makes it bearable, less bonkers. Though he wishes he could have your level of confidence in all this, being able to go with the flow so instinctively that he and Layla seem to be along for the ride.

“Your future self told you he's autistic but never mentioned a location.” he's got an adorable pout on his face as his eyes dart to Layla's then back to you, “'s a bit fishy, innit?”

You can only offer a shrug to the confused Brit, “They never said explicitly he was autistic, I honestly just assumed. Which let's be real, long run is better to anticipate dealing with an autistic time traveling seven year old so we don't accidentally overwhelm him and trigger him to jump to another time.”

“Ok, no you do have a point, but what're the odds he's actually autistic?”

You stop walking, “Bruh I flunked statistics, but I'm autistic and from an experience standpoint I only date neurodivergent people so chances are pretty high. Even if I'm the only parent who's autistic that's still a huge likely hood given genetics.”

“You're autistic? You don't...you carry yourself...” his words fall flat because he isn't sure what he's trying to say.

“I get what you mean, and ditto dude.” you nod before looking behind you and facing them again, “Soooooo am I still in leading us for some reason?”

“Oh right, sorry. This way then.” Steven rushes in front guiding you to his flat, properly this time, you wait for Layla to move before falling into step with her.

Once the three of you are up in Steven's flat you can relax a little – not having to worry about stray pedestrians hearing some off remark from you three.

Layla pushes one of Steven's stray chairs from beneath the window over to the area with two other chairs – and one very cluttered desk. As you watch her move you can't help but notice how overflowing the small studio was with books. Books were practically coming out of the walls, hell they may have been supporting the entire unit structurally at this point. Had it not been for the improper stacking of the books you would have thought it was a storage room for the library. But the books were all stacked horizontally, much higher than the nine inch guideline you live by, shelves were practically buckling under the weight of all the textbooks, novels, and guides. Seems the stand alone shelf in the middle of the room was a new installation to the space if it's sparse shelves and tilted books are anything to go by.

You'd ask if this man owned any bookends but figure by the sheer number of books that they'd be useless anyway.

Steven pulls you from your internal musings, turning your head slightly letting him know you're listening without having to directly face him.

“What else can you tell us about this time traveler. Do we have a name, a description, anything?”

It's a valid question, one you wish you had answers to; unfortunately you don't have any more insight than what you've already told them.

“Nuh uh, all the info I had on Layla was pretty sparse itself, took me a minute to even place she was in England. Not to mention there was no mention of you three.” you aren't really sure if you should mention the system as a whole or as an individual. But that's the least of your concerns right now, especially since they haven't mentioned how you address them.

There's no big cue to signal when the switch happened, nothing like Hollywood would have you believe. One moment you're talking to the sweet British gift shop worker and next you find yourself in an argument with a grizzled frustrated American.

“We don't even have any identifiers for this kid, how do you expect us yo find him?”

Hearing the rising tone you whisper sharply, “I figure I'll know him when I see him or he sees me or Layla he'll come right on out.”, hoping it'll lower his volume as well – it works the human brain is funny that way. Rewarding whisper with a whisper.

“What does that even mean?!” his hands come up in front of him to gesture as if he's holding an imaginary box in between them.

“It means he has to know us, trust me I work with kids and all it takes is for one familiar face to get them settled.” you give a calm down gesture with your hands.

Marc pinches the bridge of his nose, “To make this easier, can you at least contact yourself and get a name, a basic description?”

Marc is trying his best to be understanding, you're just really frustrating to work with. He feels like he's back at basic with guys who couldn't even understand the orders they were given.

Shaking you head you can only offer and apologetic smile, “Something's blocking the connection. And we don't need a name, like I said I'll know him when I see him...like seventy four percent sure.”

Yup, you're a dumbass.

“You have some type of description then, we could get police involved, have a search for a missing kid.” Layla chimed in.

“No, we really can't.” shaking your head again, “Think about it a time traveling kid. A defenseless seven year old. How many governments do you think would be after him, and let's not ignore the mutant factions who'd try to claim him. No one can know he's out here, they'll likely exploit his powers the second they get him – or worse torture him and dissect him to figure out how they work so they can manufacture some syrup to start passing out like candy. We think one traveler is bad, try self righteous bastards, or Hydra. The timeline would be fucking screwed.”

Both Marc and Layla share a look, it's clear to at least Layla that even the one time traveler has set the gods into a fit, the thought of any more unsettles her. While you gave little to the mission you at least brought  up the point neither of them would have thought of. It's a way to lock themselves back into the goose chase, finding the kid and getting everything back to normal was the only option. Everything else was just too much of a headache to even comprehend.

There was still a question she had about the whole thing, judging from the clenching of his fists Marc had it too.

“Why me?”

A thoughtful hum left you as you cleared some old mugs off Steven's desk and away from the books haphazardly strewn about – old forgotten tea and books were just asking for trouble.

“My guess is we're friends in the future, but it's most likely that you're a better witch than I am. So you'll be able to locate him in no time.” you say as if it's the most casual thing in the world while rinsing off mugs before setting them in the sink.

Marc is silent as his eyes dart from you to Layla, since you fist appeared you've just been spewing out wild nonsensical explanations – but calling Layla a witch, proclaiming to be one as well was by far the wildest thing he's ever heard.

“A what?”

Looking at the American you sent an apologetic grimace to Layla, “Op, sorry did they not know?”

Layla had to shake herself free from her own confusion before she could respond.

“Uh, no. Because I'm not a witch. Where'd you get that idea?”

Another look shared between the couple when a realization hit, did you know about Moon Knight and Scarlett Scarab?

Marc was on edge as your head tilts to the side, a small pout lining your lips. “If you aren't a witch why am I here?”

“That's what we want to know.” the scowl seems to be a permanent fixture on Marc's face.

Layla elbows her ex-husband, trying to get him to reign in his paranoia, at least be less hostile to the person calling themselves a witch in front of them. They have no idea what you're capable of, no sense in provoking you to show them when they have no divinity to help them out at the moment. Not to mention you're the only lead they have, and while you haven't been the most helpful she feels you've been genuine and gave up any and all information you knew to help.

“Well,” you sigh picking up your backpack, “things just got a lot more complicated. I've got to make a call and see if I can't get any more information.” when you reach for the door Marc is quick to keep it shut, boxing you in between him and the wall.

“You said something was blocking the connection, why would you suddenly be able to reach them now?” he doesn't need to say 'you aren't leaving my sight', you hear him loud and clear, so does Layla.

“Marc!” she at least makes a weak attempt to scold him but you can tell she shares his sentiment.

You spin to face him and look directly into his dark eyes.

“Look, I have awful social skills ad a monotone voice. Despite that I genuinely just want to get back to my level of normal, to do that I have to find this kid ok? I don't know why specifically Layla was pointed out to me if she wasn't a witch but now that means I need to ask a higher power for help. I really doubt you want me giving just anyone a free pass to trash your apartment.”

The hand keeping the door closed recedes; being so close to the body you can feel the shift in energy. Marc isn't in front of you anymore, neither is Steven. There's a slight warmth in those brown eyes now, not as light as when Steven held them and not as harsh as when Marc glared at you.

“You're right, we don't want that. You've got thirty minutes to make your call. Alley out back is low traffic, you won't get interrupted.” there's a hint of a threat in there, a predator just asking for you to give chase.

You nod “I'll buzz when I'm downstairs.” and with that you leave the flat.

Jake waits by the door and listens to the sounds of your footsteps growing distant. He waits until he hears the elevator open, close, and clunkily move down the shaft before he heads to the fridge and gets himself one of the beers he's stashed behind some of Marc's. He can feel Layla's eyes on him the entire way from the front door all the way to when he plops down in the chair she set in the “living room”.

“I asked, he can't find them. If they can get a better connection than the god of time fucking let them, be doin' us a favor.” the apartment falls silent as Jake sips his beer.

It was a kindness that he gave you thirty five minutes instead.

In the alley you were working quickly to set up a small summoning circle. Clearing away the debris and trash loitering the alley, even going so far as to bring out a small handheld dust pan from your bag to clean up the dirt from the pavement. Disposing the dust in one of the bins nearby you return to your work station; setting about the crystals and candles around you in a circle, bringing out the offering dish you realize you hadn't thought to bring a cup when you'd packed. Oh, well you've only been given thirty minutes and you weren't going to waster them on stressing over a cup – besides wine came in a glass bottle so that had to count for something. Placing the wrap on the dish and setting the wine beside it you lit the candles.

With everything in place you settle into the center of the circle; hands on your knees and eyes closed you begin to meditate. It never takes long for the fuzzy sensation of floating to take over, your feet somehow feeling as though they are flying over head and detached from your body despite the fact that they are tucked under you. The warmth from the candles fade around you, at some point the light stops dancing behind your eye lids, a harsh wind blows over you.

Eyes shooting open you're greeted with the dark and desolate space of the void. The inky black essence breathing, alive as it ungulates all around you – a movement you can see the presence of motion from but not any solid mass to discern it's pattern. You call it breathing though -easier to describe, and it's the only thing that fits this space.

“Hello?” you half expected an echo effect, the distortion ended up more like the pressure you'd feel if you tried to speak and listen to it under water.

“I'd like to speak to the god of time, Lord Khonshu. If he's available...” how does one call up a god?

Despite your lack of experience your projection does the trick, it's only a moment of waiting before you're staring face to beak with said god.

“Hmmmm, it's been some time since a witch has been so bold as to call on me by name.” he leans back to inspect you.

Walks around you giving himself a small idea of who's just petitioned him. He stops back where he started once again staring down at you.

“Would you like to continue your petition or shall I let you know that I am unfortunately very aware of the your little traveler.” His talons tap on his staff in agitation.

His attitude doesn't get to you, you used to be diner pals with Loki. The Norse god had often disguised himself and messed with you for being able to correctly identify him each time he was at the diner, you never got the chance to tell him it was purely his order that gave him away. You didn't see many other people order a ham and egg croissant with ketchup.

“Oh, well guess this makes things simple huh?” it's an awkward pause for you, the god before you is not amused, “I wanted to ask if you could help locate him?”

“Of course you do.” you're given the impression that he's just rolled his eyes at you even without eyeballs. Weird.

In the next moment he's in your face.

“What do you think I've been busy doing? I haven't been able to pin point the anomaly and couldn't fathom why...until you called for my aid. Now, witch, do you know why that may be?”

You look to the right, like someone would even be there to help you out with this, before looking back to the skull headed god.

“Be....cause he's from ...the future...?” you say unsure.

Khonshu stands to his full height and rubs his temples – his skull? Was a temple a muscle?

He mutters something that sounds an awful lot like 'incompetent mortals' and 'how was this the species that made it this far' a few odd swears following after. The god composes himself before tapping his staff on the air, causing a ripple of force that pushes you back onto your butt as he stride over to your fallen form.

“It would appear the child has a cloak around them. I wonder who's done that... ah ah ah that was rhetorical don't you dare try to answer it.” his tone is dripping with accusation and venom. He knew the answer to all of his frustrations the moment he took your call, now you just needed to undo your work so he could get on with his.

You frown, it's deep and scrunches up your nose as you spit back, “Of course he's cloaked. He's a time traveler. I'm not about to let someone find him and use his powers.”

“And if you don't break the cloak I can not locate him. We risk him falling into someone's grasp still.” the bite is far from gone in his tone, though it's nearly drowned in urgency instead.

“You have no guarantee that someone isn't already nearby and waiting for him. You may not get there in time once it's dropped. Not to mention, even if I tried, I” you stress the pronoun, “didn't make it. It's probably out of my control to break.”

Khonshu heaves a sigh as he straightens out his posture, crossing his arms giving you a look of disdain.

“You humans were too simple minded for magic. The abilities reside in you, they always have and always will. They aren't obtained over the years, you simply were born with it”

You roll your eyes and huff, “So I'm perfectly proficient in magic then?”

“Do not get smart with me witchling.” it isn't lost on you that he's referring to your skill level. “Your sass will be your undoing.” Khonshu threatens.

“Well it's not fair for you to just assume that I know what the hell I'm doing, it's not like I've had someone guiding me through any of this.”

“And yet you called me on your first try. You mortals are limited only by the doubts you've placed within yourselves. We may be able to come to...an understanding of sorts. I am protector of travelers and you offer protective magic. As it stands you are containing it; attempting to tame it. Sooner or later it'll need to expand from those confines – the moment it does I expect your pathetic vessel will pop like a grape in the desert heat.”

It catches you off guard the soft tone in his voice, this meeting hadn't been entirely hostile but it's giving off the energy of an older sibling arguing over the chore list with you before mom gets home. His warning does not go unheard.

“So...I what, offer you protection and you guide me through releasing that energy?”

He gives a small puff of air, you could easily confuse it for laughter, it came out more of a 'caw' sound, “I require no protection, least not from you, little witch. I do have an avatar that is lacking my protection; keep watch over him for now in my absence. But, yes I can aid you with coexisting with you magic.”

This is all giving you a huge headache. Marc thought you were talking in circles, he'd absolutely loose it during this conversation.

Waving him off with an open palm you move the topic along.

“Ok, ok. Now what can I do to get your help in getting this child back home?”

“I believe I have been more than clear that you are to remove your cloaking magic. Once I locate him I can send him back.” he says briskly towering over you once again; whatever soft moment you had apparently over.

His intimidation tactics won't work on you, and you just pouting won't get you any where.

“Let me rephrase the equation then, we have a child from the future running around because he came here on accident through use of his own gifts. If we want to prevent any future traveling accidents we should attempt to help him figure out how to go back on his own. So he can-”

“Yes, yes,” he snaps interrupting you, “so he can then rectify any further mishaps on his part. I am not one of your little charges witch, fix your tone when speaking to me.”

“And you are not the first god I've dealt with, you certainly are turning into the rudest.” you're matching his energy at this point, it might not be the smartest move but this void amplifies everything it takes in, emotions included.

“Your child has run a muck through time, and you are too stubborn to let me fix it and get things back into their natural order.”

“With a gift like his it should automatically constitute as being within the realm of natural order. And we really should be focusing on teaching him to fix his own mistakes. How else will he learn not to run a muck through your domain? No one needs a repeat of the battle on Titan.”

While his skull can't emote in a similar way to a human face you understand the expression. A sneer at the bitter reminder, one that relaxes with a harsh and forceful breath.

“It would seem...we have a common enough goal in mind, witchling.” he addresses you with a nod, righting himself again, “You find that little traveler of yours and I shall help to guide him to his rightful time.”

You weren't sure what to do exactly, this was your first petitioning of a god – so long as asking Loki not to pour ketchup all over your breakfast didn't count. But by the rules you'd looked up prior Khonshu had just established the terms of the petition, ones you agreed to. For formality's sake you nod and give a small bow.

The god huffs in amusement, “You'll have much to learn, for now we don't have the luxury to teach you. The effort – albeit minimal is appreciated.”

Looking up you eye the god warily, “You say that like we'll be working together often.”

“You carry term and raise a time traveler in the future, did you expect I won't be present?”

He's a sassy bird.

The words fall from your lips before you can register them, “You're very sassy for a god.”

“And you are very bold for such a little witch.” As rocky as this meeting had started it ended on a good note, if the humor in his the was anything for you to judge.

You make to look around and find your exit when your chin is forcibly grabbed. Khonshu leers at something on your face as he moves it all around eyes piercing one spot, like he's looking through you. “Seems your child is the least of my concerns, tell me did you know you reek of anomalies?” He doesn't care what you have to say, whatever it is he sees tells him everything he needs to know as he continues on without letting you speak, “From now on you're under my protection as well. Let's try and keep your travel limited.”

“That's been the plan since I got here.”

He lashes out at your vitriol, “Yes, and how many times was it the plan before now?” there's a brief moment of pity when you flinch at his words. He's right and you both know it; the pity is gone as soon as it came, he drops your face as if it burned him.

Looks like there isn't any time to waster in finding the time traveler.

“Take us to the idiots, the sooner we collect them the sooner the other gods stop prodding me for explanations.”

You assume he means to end the summoning and get you back in the mortal plane. Though the comment about idiots gets stuck in your head and you're left picturing Layla and the system despite your best efforts to empty your mind and ground yourself. Soon you're thinking about the absolute chaos that is Steven's apartment as Khonshu continues speaking to you instructing you on how to proceed with getting out. Weirdly a rush of cold air passes over you, and although you were so unfocused you find your self back from the void.

It's disorienting coming back from the inky black of the void. There's light, color, and sounds coming from all around; it's scary how not hearing the pulse of humming electricity moving in the walls can unsettle you. The real disorienting factor is that you aren't in the alley anymore, whipping your head around you see you're back in Steven's apartment. All the stimulation has your head reeling and unable to process what's going on.

First glance told you you were alone in the apartment, until you see the hulking figure of Khonshu sneering at the fish tank. Seeing his size and floating bird skull of a head in the context of the real world is very jarring and just overwhelms you more. Everything looks small in comparison to him, in the void you didn't have a frame of reference for his size or the difference between you as you were kept near eye to eye for much of the encounter. On this plane he was nearly twice your height, and very imposing to look at.

You could barely make out the drumming of footsteps in the hall paired with muffled voices before keys fit into the lock. Jake and Layla had gone out looking for you after those thirty five minutes only to turn up with an empty alleyway and your backpack. They'd been out for nearly two hours before Marc said they needed to head to the apartment and plan their next moves, he'd seen your passport and had the idea to go to Hell's Kitchen to see if they could figure out anything more about you or find another lead to this time travel case.

As they get into the apartment they stop in the door way to see you dizzy and sitting on the floor, at least that's the part Layla hones in on as she makes her way to you, cautiously.

“There you are, where'd you go? We've been looking all over for you.” she kneeled down to your prone form and tried to steady your tremors.

“Layla get them outside, they look like they could use some air.” Marc's eyes were set hard on Khonshu standing just away from you two.

The bird bristles at the impertinence, “Oh the little witch will be fine. They came searching for my aid, as this matter falls to my dominion.”

“Wait they called you, you called Khonshu seriously?” Marc switches his focus back to you who is starting to look a little more lively than before.

“If you'd said this was your contact I'd have told you he knew nothing.”

“You wouldn't have told them anything imbecile. You don't even trust them.”

Layla wants to tell the two to quit bickering because you look like you're about to pass out. But you beat her to the punch when you ask if Marc's the witch.

Khonshu's gaze peels off his avatar so he can focus on you, “Don't fret little witch, these four are merely avatars. No real power without help of the gods who lent them theirs. We'll go more in depth with your studies once this debacle is put to rest.” He focuses again on Marc, “They've agreed to aid in protecting you in my absence. As my Moon Knight I expect you to get moving soon.”

His posture is rigid and stiff as he asks the god, “Where are we going?”

You nod as best you can, there hadn't been any progress in finding the kid or pinpointing his location.

An unamused expression radiates from his features as Khonshu looks down to you specifically, “It seems you're just as brainless as me avatar. Witchling, time travel effects the when, not the where. So, given the nature of your relationship...where would our little traveler be?”

You hadn't thought of it like that, but now that he has it seemed so obvious even in your overstimulated state.

The answer was obvious and the weight hit you like a train.

“Fuck he's in Manhattan!”

Marc having watched the exchange couldn't help but feel this was one of Khonshu's set ups, everything was going too well and in the god's favor. “Good you know where he is, you'll be able to find him by yourself, get Khonshu to send him back. Layla and I can take you airport, have a nice trip.”

“Marc Spector, you will be accompanying the witchling on the endeavor, as I said I'm entrusting my Moon Knight to oversee any obstacles that may impede the witch. You aren't entirely useless without my aid are you?”

You look to Layla who's watching everything with a furrowed brow, she hasn't said anything so this may be a normal occurrence between the two.

“What if you just came with me?” you had only meant to ask the woman but drew the other's attention.

“Absolutely not!” you flinch at the raise in Marc's tone.

“The Scarlet Scarab falls under Taweret's divinity, while she's welcome to join your company – it's my knight that needs to go.”

“I don't see why, it seems you've got an excellent candidate for an avatar right there.” he motions for you.

Khonshu is clearly done with the argument when he summons his staff and slams it down onto the apartment floor much like he did in the void, only this time no one gets blown backwards. You notice Marc's body relaxes a bit from the strict and rigid stance he held.

“Jake, see to it the witchling finds the little time miscreant and makes sure nothing gets in the way of sending him back where he came from.” the man nods to the god.

Khonshu turns to you, “Should my knight be inaccessible for the duration of your endeavor call upon me directly.” you shakily nod, feeling sick in a new context after having watched an alter get bullied out.

The trip to the airport was silent. It seemed Jake didn't talk much and Layla was busy getting three tickets to Manhattan. By some fortune from the gods, probably Khonshu, you did get the tickets for the next flight, seats next to each other too. Layla and Jake waited for you while your carry on got checked and once you regrouped you settled on an action plan.

Which was a better way to say hit up anything in Manhattan that you thought a seven year old with total control might like.

“You really think a seven year old boy would willingly go to the library?” Layla laughed without humor as you wrote it down in a small note book.

Looking up you gave a smile, “Yea, I mean he's my son and my entire job is based around making the library and reading fun for kids. It's probably a second home to him.”

“Mhmm, and the museums?”

“Steven liked museums as a kid.” Jake says looking at the options for the in flight movie.

He didn't add much, and you noticed Layla didn't do much to acknowledge the fact either. But you still stared the museums on your list. Not catching the glance Jake spared down at your notes.

“But really, New York has LEGO stores and the Pokemon Center, you really think a kid's going to choose these...educational,”

“Go ahead say boring, you were going to.” you tease.

She gives a smirk, “these boring places over the others?”

“Hey, I put Coney Island on here too.” it's strange trying to lift the mood up with strangers you've just met, strangers forced to interact with you at behest of a god.

“Put Yankee Stadium on there.”

With all seriousness you turn to the man on your left, “Absolutely the fuck not.”

He raises a brow, “You got the Brox Museum of Art, Stadium's right across, why not?”

“Because no child of mine would be caught dead in Yankee Stadium.”

He clicks his tongue at you, “You a fuckin' Mets fan.”

You close the book and stare at him before your hand motions glide in front and then you bring the gestured hand upturned to your chest, “Do I look like a Mets fan? No, the answer's no.” Shaking you head you straighten up your posture, “I have no baseball affiliation, love the sport but love making fun of the fan base so much more.”

“How's that work, liking a sport with no team?”

“Easy, if I'm invited to a game or catch it on TV I just chose who I'm rooting for, after a while you like start osmosising information about player. I think it's got a lot to do with World Cup years and each footie team being different every four years so I had to learn a lot in a short amount of time.”

“Ah, soccer's your sport?” you nod to him, “Got a team for that?”

“Manchester.” you say easily, and he snorts.

When you cut your eyes at him, “Steven's gonna say somethin' next time he sees you.”

“Fuck off I'm not takin' shit from a man who's team is Arsenal.” that gets Jake's attention and all his focus is on you. A chill runs down your spine and you feel trapped by the door again.

Layla asks the question that breaks his stare down, “How'd you know Steven's favorite team?”

“He just had that look about him, honestly didn't seem the Chelsea type.”

Jake having picked out his movie just rolled the interaction off and made a grab for his headphones, “He's more of a cricket fan anyway.” before you can question it he slides the headphones over his ears.

You look back over to Layla assuming that'd been the end of the conversation, “Don't mind Jake he...he can just be that way.” she's being honest but also seems uncertain on that fact.

You nod, you understand that this situation wasn't something either of them had signed up for.

She looks past you, over to Jake eyes glaring at the scene playing out on the monitor, sighing she leans back in her chair.

“You really have no idea why your future self told you to find me?”

“I have a hunch it's because we're best friends, so of course having Auntie Layla help search for missing son makes sense, no matter timeline.”

She hums in response.

“Job doesn't leave much time for a personal life.”

It's your turn to hum, “Yea, I have a few other...first responders as friends so trust me, I understand.”

“Nice way of putting it,” she laughs, and the energies start to feel lighter again.

Looking over you catch a familiar scene on the screen in front of Jake.

“Are you watching Twilight?”

You hadn't said it that loudly but Jake still heard and his brow furrowed harder, if that was even possible.

“Yea, and it's awful.”

Layla in a better mood can't help the teasing lit in her voice, “You can always turn it off.”

But Jake just shakes his head, “It's like a train wreck.”

You and Layla share a look before giggling to yourselves and leaving Jake to his movie. You have a feeling you'll hear all about it later.

[toburnup]

Bitch (affectionate) I was till like 4 am re-reading everything I could from your ao3. Sorry that I haven't left comments yet but I will, I promise, I'm just too stunned to form coherent thoughts and then write them down. "That backseat afterglow" took my brain away, it was so good, I love when Steve doesn't completely freak out (I know they were a bit high but still), he does clinge to some stereotypes in the series (like when he said he wouldn't date Robin because she's in band hdhshs this poor stupid man) but he's not entirely brainless, he's actually very smart for some things and he's good at kind of guessing how to reassure other people (again with Robin and him cracking jokes to make her feel safe when she came out to him). I feel like his freak outs last for like 30 seconds and then he takes everything with a "it is what it is" and "bring it on I guess" attitude. I would love to read something from you were they discover they truly love each other, I adore your smut, it's perfectly written, but I'll like to see more of that "I will apologize to the dude that beat my ass and is now with my girlfriend because is just the right thing to do I GUESS" directed at Eddie. I'm sure Eddie still has class resentment (I have that) and Steve would be totally the type to hurt him by accident because of his rich boy inability to put himself in other people's shoes... Not that Steve's life is perfect (he did said his dad is an asshole and he's getting minimum wage now) but Eddie has no way of knowing that unless they talk... Anyways, this is so long already, love all of your fics and you are, above all, extremely funny in a somewhat dark way that I can't get enough of, may you always have a confy place to rest. Also, I see you agree with ADHD Eddie and I'm elated about it *neurodivergent wink*

omg this was. VERY NICE TO WAKE UP TO 💙 taking time to re-read is such high praise imo but i really hope you got some sleep!! 😭

he's not entirely brainless, he's actually very smart for some things and he's good at kind of guessing how to reassure other people

this made me laugh 😭 why is our boy so stupid (but he's trying). like even when he succeeds, it's like 60% luck.

I'll like to see more of that "I will apologize to the dude that beat my ass and is now with my girlfriend because is just the right thing to do I GUESS" directed at Eddie

oooooooo. steve is impulsive, both in how he hurts people (nancy, jonathan) and how he attempts to reconcile (showing up at jonathan's at night?? to say sorry).

Steve would be totally the type to hurt him by accident because of his rich boy inability to put himself in other people's shoes

this is a good point. i think stranger things started to acknowledge that with jonathan and nancy, but the class difference is real and it's kinda easy to tiptoe around in the fandom too (i'm guilty of it). and like you mention, steve works at scoops ahoy - pretty much the only place he could meet someone like robin, who is poor - and even then, him taking an ordinary, low-paying job isn't really at odds of his upbringing, but a facet of it: he specifically says that it's a punishment. instead of just, a job. his father (and him) sees working at an ice cream store as a *bad thing*. with the moral judgement attached.

this is such an intriguing concept and i will absolutely try, i think i hinted elements of class separation in ink you up (and maybe again in pt 3) but i haven't gone any further with it yet. and i'm a little worried about handling it well, either there or in another story.

(rambling ahead) i also have major class resentment and i find steve to be such an unsympathetic character in that specific regard. like... if i write about that dynamic of their relationship, i'm not sure how to reconcile that within a piece of work. ¡personal share! there is one person i dated who came from generational wealth, and it was such a huge divide between us and is ultimately why it didn't work. ¡end personal share! i don't want to create circumstances in which steve's life is made harder (such as being disowned/kicked out) just to 'balance out' that extreme side of privilege he has. i think that's why so many of us give steve nightmares/ptsd, because trauma is a way to create more depth in steve, but also....... being poor is its own trauma! not to mention eddie saw multiple people die in a very gruesome way

another possible route would be to have steve mess up and hurt eddie re: class, and then have to go through the internal work of unlearning & apologizing, but like. how do i write that!! i have 0 experience with that perspective, could i make it believable? is that possible?? can wealthy people like steve actually understand the perspective of someone in poverty? AM I OVERCOMPLICATING THIS? (i might be, i'm sorry, this was just very thought provoking!).

you have given me much to think about. i'm curious to hear more of your thoughts on this!! so sorry for taking a tiny snippet of what you said and blowing it up into all ^ that. 💜💜