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leos-regression-cove · 2 years

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Nothing in the Parenting Books Prepared Me For This

38. Brunch

Synopsis: Sylvie, Loki, Mobius, and their coworkers go out to brunch at a fancy restaurant.

Word count: 4077

Stand Alone?: yep!

Warnings: alcohol, diapers/wetting/leaks, public changing, swearing, Sylkius relationship outside of regression mentioned

Notes: This chapter is based off real events from a restaurant I went to during new years. Literally the menu, pigeons, etc. is the same. (Except for the fact that the one I went to was literally on the ocean.) But even Loki's antics while he's in the restaurant were inspired heavily by a baby sitting a few tables over. So I guess kind of a vent chapter I guess? Lol

Read it on AO3!

Mobius pulled a brown suit coat over his button up, and even buttoned the top button, scrunching his tie up as high as it could go so it was almost choking him, and floating a whole centimeter away from his collar.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

Sylvie walked by him and immediately yanked it down.

“You look too uptight. They’re our friends just as much as they are coworkers. You’ll be fine.”

“But will the two of you be?” he asked, eyeing the both of them up and down; Sylvie was in baggy street clothes while Loki was still in pajamas.

“Bunny won’t take that long to get ready unless he makes a messy,” Sylvie defended him. “We have a while, let him rest,” she cooed at Mobius, standing on her tiptoes to nibble his ear and kiss his neck.

Normally, Mobius was much more defensive of Loki than Sylvie was, so it was a strange change in dynamics for them.

Loki meanwhile, rolled and began to make little morning yawns and grunts behind his pacifier, so Sylvie sighed, “See? He’s up already.” She picked him up, and set him down onto the cold, hard changing table with minimal cotton padding.

He made a little squeak after being set down and opened his eyes while Sylvie undid the snaps up the leg of his dinosaur covered pajamas. Sucking on his pacifier, he took the change while lying very still, letting Sylvie lift his legs and watching her from the corner of his eyes.

“Mummy?” Loki asked.

Sylvie made a little “hm?”

“Daddy go?” he questioned.

“We’re going with him,” she hummed. “We’re going to get brunch with our friends.”

“Fen’s.”

“Yeah: Clint, Kate, and Yelena.”

Loki sat up with his legs far apart and hands set between them on the seat of the table.

“It’s going to be a fancy brunch, too. You know that?” Sylvie asked as she looked for an outfit.

The little clapped excitedly while Sylvie picked out some dark green cotton “shortalls” which fit more like a romper or tank-topped jumpsuit than the denim overalls that she and Loki knew so well, and underneath it, she gave him a smocked, peter pan collared onesie with a barely visible band of animal appliques around the chest in a pastel powder blue. She strapped matching blue booties to his feet which he “helped” with by pulling them up while she did the velcro straps.

She set Loki down and let him waddle to Mobius all excited and happy that they were going somewhere. “See?” She smiled, brushing off her hands, “Baby’s all ready, and it took no time at all,” she cooed as Mobius picked up the little. “Now take him so mummy can go get ready,” she said, kissing Mobius on the lips and kissing Loki on the belly, making the tot look down and check no lipstick got on him.

“I thought you said I was overdressing for this?”

“Well now both of you are. I don’t want to be left out!” she joked entirely seriously before leaving the room for a shower.

The drive to the cafe was pretty long; all the way on the far side of Southport, actually.

Loki lounged in his baby seat on the way there, kicking Mobius’ chair and chewing on an ice cold teether as he stared out the window. It should’ve warmed up in his mouth, but he forced it to stay cool with the magic radiating from his palms.

Sure, the restaurant they stopped in was called a “cafe” but it was very high brow. Kate had suggested it with Loki and Sylvie in mind. It was a place her parents used to take her while in the area.

Mobius cordially shook hands with Clint, Kate, and Yelena while Sylvie braced Loki on her hip with his diaper bag over her shoulder and also gave friendly handshakes.

Loki just waved.

The group was seated in a large room without a back wall that opened up out onto the patio. The whole place was horrendously modern, but at least they didn’t make everything white; the chairs had padding and the booth Mobius and Loki sat at was made out of a light colored wood. The little would’ve taken a highchair, but it seemed the restaurant didn’t have any whatsoever. So, he sat on his daddy’s lap, while Mobius tried to get the last of the papers signed to get the three officially back on the team (even though they had already been unofficially working at S.H.I.E.L.D. for well over a few months).

As the waiter came around taking orders for drinks, Mobius stuffed the last few papers into his briefcase, and paused to look at the menu, getting ready to order for himself and Loki. It was a single page menu. He flipped it over looking for the beverage header, only to be met with a long list, lasting the entire page, of different alcohols. He checked again to make sure he hadn’t missed a non-alcoholic section on the front, but it was nowhere to be found. So he caved and ordered himself a glass of whiskey on the rocks and asked if they just had any apple juice for Loki.

The waiter nodded and took Loki’s green sippy cup as he jotted down the rest of the drink order onto a tablet.

Sylvie, of course got the biggest, fanciest drink she could, a fishbowl of orange liqueur, lemonade, cranberry juice, and Loki’s favorite alcohol, Mezcal. The drink was meant to be shared between two or three people, but Sylvie was not a lightweight, and insisted she’d be fine. She considered lying about sharing it, but decided it would be easier to just brush by the worker’s hand and throw the thought that it was alright into his head.

By the time drinks came, Loki fussed and grabbed for Sylvie’s $40 fishbowl of booze.

“Hey, you wouldn’t let me drink wine when I was little at the Christmas party, now you don’t get to drink my Mezcal while you’re little,” she reminded him very seriously.

However, while she was distracted, Yelena reached over and took a sip from the second straw.

They made eye contact for a second, but neither said a word, although Sylvie did raise a disapproving eyebrow.

Loki sucked on his sippy cup discontentedly. There was so much good stuff around the table! And he was stuck here, with a cup that he could hardly get the juice out of, and unallowed to try any of the beautifully colored liquids in pretty glasses around him. At least the apple juice didn’t burn his throat.

Mobius noticed the baby’s upset and, as he sat on the corner of the booth, he scooted out so Loki’s legs were no longer bumping the underside of table and gave him a few little bounces on his knee, asking how he was doing, and giving the little a whiskey scented kiss on the cheek, which made Loki smile as the bristly hairs on his daddy’s mustache brushed him.

He leaned backwards, slumping to nestle the back of his head onto Mobius’ shoulder, almost sliding off the comfortable lap in the process until Mobius held him by the waist to make sure he didn’t fall.

The adults chatted and looked over the menus, talking only slightly about business, and much more about personal lives and how the moves have been going for everyone.

When Mobius looked over the menu again, the food section this time, and asked Loki what he wanted, the little shoved his hand in his mouth absently instead of answering.

“Picky eater?” Clint asked. “She is, too,” he mouthed quietly, pointing his thumb at Yelena.

“I am not!” she responded with exaggerated offense.

“That’s alright, I knew this would happen,” Mobius assured them, showing off some snacks he had brought in the diaper bag, just in case. He still read off the menu to the child and asked Sylvie what she was going to have, in a roundabout sort of way, asking her to pick for him. Sylvie’s second choice had been a tender ravioli, so that’s what he settled on.

As they talked about these choices, other members of the party began to discuss theirs as well:

“It’s been a while since I’ve had oysters…” Clint mused, mulling it over.

“Oysters? You can’t be serious!” Yelena scolded him. “We’re hours from the ocean, you’ll poison yourself!”

“He’ll be fine. This place is good if you’re going to order them, we can share. I’ll take some,” Kate jumped in, setting a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

“Fine. But I’m not helping you when you get sick,” Yelena conceded.

As they ordered and waited for their food, Mobius brought out more paperwork, just the final few forms, he told them when he was met with slight, trying-to-be-polite frowns from Kate and Clint, and a full scowl from Yelena, which Sylvie couldn’t help but laugh at.

“I’ll be needing some of this,” Yelena said, reaching over to take another sip from the second straw from Sylvie’s fishbowl and taking a long draw off the strong, bright pink, liquid.

Sylvie let her this time.

Loki looked around when appetizers arrived; it was one of those nice places that staggered the courses.

“Do you want to try one of those?” Mobius asked, noticing Loki’s fascination towards the silver, ice covered platter of shellfish.

Loki reached towards it, nearly knocking Mobius’ drink over, but the adult caught the glass before a spill could occur and handed the baby one of the strange starters.

The little chewed on the salty shell, so Mobius demonstrated how to properly eat it. “So we loosen it up with a fork and then-” he sipped it down and Loki watched, half fascinated, half disgusted. “You didn’t have oysters on Asgard? I thought you guys were big on seafood.”

Loki shook his head and sipped the seawater out of the shell. Then, finally getting up the courage after watching Kate and Clint each take one and knock it back like a shot, he ate the slimy mixture out of the center in the most dignified, adult way he could.

The flavor thrust the little momentarily into the memory of being at extravagant parties and eating the luxuriant and exotic foods, reserved for the upper echelons of society on Asgard. The way he used to help Thor eat the foods that were supposedly for “a matured palette” by disguising himself as his older brother, or taking the food Thor didn’t like under the table.

Realizing that for a long time, he was the big brother to Thor, in an emotional sense.

It was nice to let go.

As he silently reminisced, he decided that that life wasn’t for him. Not anymore. The memories were nice, being there for Sylvie and Thor was great, but he was no longer the trickster prince who needed all the eccentricities of what the land of the gods had to offer. He could, perhaps, no, definitely, spend his forever like this: either with two beautiful partners, or parenting a little, or being the best little in the multiverse.

He sank into Mobius, politely refusing another piece of the slimy seafood.

Sure it was fancy, but Loki, for the first time in his life wondered, did that automatically make it good? He stopped this thinking quickly as he decided these were ponderings for when he was bigger, maybe for now he would be better suited to crumpling into a little ball in Mobius’ lap as the sunlight streamed in from the glass skylights and onto his curls, irritating his face.

“Hey, we’re in a restaurant, mr. kitty cat. I know you’re little but I need you to sit up like a big boy, alright?” Mobius asked when the little almost kicked Kate next to them. He remembered now why he always put Loki in a highchair; Holding the fidgety little guy was like holding a 6 foot tall eel.

Loki complied reluctantly; wistfully, almost pensively.

When normal orders arrived, Loki was encouraged to share Mobius’ large plate, but that was a no-go and the poor man ended up needing to alternate between feeding Loki spoonfuls of fruit and vegetable baby food with a spoon, and trying to feed himself his fancy meal.

But Mobius didn’t blame him. When you came here, you were paying for the booze, and the views from the patio deck, maybe for the seafood like the oysters or the ahi tuna Clint had got, not really for the quality of the other food. Sure it was fine… but that’s all it was. A mediocre plate that was just a bit too cold for his liking really either.

Conversations were loud and boisterous and the little tried to listen in from his spot, mostly looking over at Sylvie and watching her add her thoughts to whatever discussion was going on in between sips of her, now halfway downed, drink.

When he heard his name slip out of Clint’s lips, the baby looked up from his sloppy meal that was dribbling onto his bib.

“Kint!” Loki responded, reaching out to him and making a grabby baby wave across the table.

“Hi, buddy!” Clint cooed back while taking a bite of his tuna.

“Kint fren!” Loki notified Mobius and Kate, very seriously.

“Am I your friend?” Kate asked.

“M…” Loki pondered this and then reached for the sleeve of her shirt in that infantile, “I need to feel every texture” sort of way and then looked at Sylvie.

“Well, you’re my friend. I’m sure you’ll grow on him,” Sylvie said, accentuating every word as clearly as she could, trying her best to hold her alcohol and make it appear as if it had absolutely no effect on her.

“Um, Kay fren!” Loki decided, moving to snuggle close to her, but Mobius held him back, wiping the pesto-green gloop from around the tot’s mouth and onto the little white and yellow bib.

When the bill arrived, Mobius rushed to take at least some of it. It had been heavily discounted since the restaurant was dealing with earth’s most powerful heroes, but it was still far from zero. As he leaned into the center of the table, Loki leaned back.

The baby used one hand to grab onto his daddy as he moved, distracted by the bag behind him. He started to reach into the pockets that weren’t guarded by a zipper and pulled out whatever he could. Either setting items on his lap if he particularly liked them, or onto the bench or floor if he couldn’t care less.

As he ran out of pocketed items, he started to reach for the zippers.

“Loki,” Sylvie cautioned with a raised eyebrow.

Unaware that anyone was paying attention to him, the little looked up, pausing and putting the teether he had in his hands into his mouth.

Sylvie’s gaze caught Mobius’ eye, and he turned back to check on Loki, little Loki, who acted all innocent as he played with the rubbery keys in his mouth, ignoring the random objects -books, toys, pacifiers in cases, burp cloths, etc.- that had been dropped on the floor or the seat of the booth.

“Loki, really?” he asked slightly annoyed as he bent over to grab some of the toys, before gently whispering the thought into Loki’s ear that good boys help pick up.

Loki did what he could, stuffing things back into the bag randomly and hoping he’d be rewarded for his efforts.

His reward was a tighter hug and Mobius’ chin hardly reaching to sit on his shoulder, but it was more to make sure the baby didn’t get into any mischief, than it was to be affectionate.

Regardless, Loki liked the slow rocking motion Mobius made with him, as they watched Sylvie somehow, rather impressively actually, manage to finish her drink and set the miraculously dry paper umbrella that had come with it, into Loki’s hair.

The group sat for what felt like hours to Loki as the poor little tried and failed to entertain himself during all the adult talk, continuing to chew on his keys and watch the pigeons on the patio so close to them, or the way silly mummy Sylvie hiccupped and stuttered so inelegantly that it made him giggle and want to nuzzle into her neck.

Soon, Loki started to wrap his arms around Mobius’ bicep in that clingy baby sort of way that could only mean it was getting close to nap time.

Upon getting their cards back for the way the meal was split, Mobius picked up his little boy.

Loki grinned, thinking about going home, but as he hadn’t listened much to the conversations, he found that instead, Mobius just popped the trunk of his little beige car and took out the stroller, buckling the tot into it. Apparently Clint, being a normal human being, wasn’t quite cleared to drive yet, so they had decided to take a quick walking trip around town, just to explore it.

Loki sat in his stroller calmly as he was pushed through the town. He didn’t care much about the faux old fashioned looking buildings or the wide sidewalks that showed an example of friendly city planning. He watched Sylvie and tried to hold her hand while she walked, looking out for her to make sure she didn’t trip on any raised tiles in the fancy concrete. Even with the rubber wheels underneath him, he could feel each bump.

Sylvie was buzzed, but didn’t seem like she was anywhere close to her limits. However, compared to the rest of the group, she wasn’t exactly doing well. But especially as she walked, the effects began to whick off of her, reverting back to a sober state a mere 5 minutes after leaving the table.

“Can I push him for a little while?” she asked Mobius.

“You want to?”

“Yeah, why not? He’s been grabbing at my hand for the past 10 minutes,”

Mobius let her, and she leaned against the bars while pushing the toddler.

“When was the last time you changed him?” she absently asked.

“Oh gods… before we left, is he doing alright?”

“I think the little bunny may have sprung a leak,” she commented.

Loki hadn’t been really thinking about it as he wet himself, too busy listening to their conversations and trying to find anything to interest him in the warm midday sun. He suddenly looked down, mid-stream, with horror as his fancy, green coveralls turned an even darker, almost black, color with the liquid.

He started to whimper and whine, which turned into full crying when the pity came and made him nearly feel worse. The insides of his legs rubbed against the soft fabric ittitatibly, and he soon noticed it was dribbling onto the seat of his stroller and leaking through the fabric down onto the light, brick-y ground in little drip-drops.

“Shit,” Mobius swore.

Loki didn’t swear, but made a similarly upset yelp of gibberish.

“How are you even a detective?” Sylvie asked, absolutely unphased as she called a pacifier out of the diaper bag to her hand with her limited magical abilities. Unsheathing it, she placed it onto Loki’s mouth and pet his hair, trying to soothe him while looking for a bathroom or spot to get him changed.

Loki mumbled upsetly as his shorts became cold and stiff in the February winds.

“Well,” Clint sighed, “There’s your bathroom.” He pointed at a public restroom which had been surprisingly well kept, and even more shockingly, was open. It was that small, cylindrical, unattached kind of bathroom. Sure it was wheelchair accessible, but there was neither a changing table, nor room for Loki to lie down.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she groaned. “Oh fuck this.” Sylvie found a nearby bank of grass, and laid down the changing mat away from the walkway. It wasn’t a busy day by any means, but Mobius wasn't too sure about the etiquette of publicly changing a baby, let alone a full grown little. But, seeing as it was an emergency, he let it slide, just this once.

Loki fussed as the onesie and overalls were stripped from him very gently so as to not spread the dampness, and Sylvie worked quickly with cleaning him up and taping on a new, and slightly thicker diaper.

She reached into the bag for a new onesie and found a yellow one with a ruffle-y bib sewn onto the front and she had at least packed a pair of snap-crotch shorts for him. It looked pretty hastily put together, so Loki snapped and turned the shorts into a fluffy green tutu skirt instead.

Finally, Sylvie picked him up.

The relief he was feeling was palpable.

She didn’t say anything, but gave a slight nuzzle into his tummy as she packed up the changing supplies and asked the little if he could possibly magic the stroller seat clean for himself. He did so and clapped.

Gods, why didn’t he do that earlier so we wouldn’t even be in this mess? Sylvie asked herself, knowing full well that Loki’s headspace was too small for him to come to that conclusion on his own.

After letting himself be strollered around for a while, Loki decided his preferred spot was in someone’s arms. Warm, loving arms.

He reached up to make this request of either of his caregivers and Sylvie was quick to oblige, handing the stroller to Mobius and letting her baby crumple into her arms so he could comfortably rest his chin on the top of her head.

The rhythmic sucking noise he made on his pacifier slightly annoyed Sylvie, but she tried not to show it.

Loki smiled watching her eyebrows make the beginnings of a furrow and started being louder, just slightly. And then slightly more. And more.

She looked up at him in a full scowl, but Loki’s response was just to smile back with a big grin and try not to giggle as she handed him back off to Mobius.

While in Mobius’ arms, the scrunching Loki had to do in order to sit comfortably, wasn’t so pronounced, and Mobius was much warmer, and slightly more talkative than Sylvie, so he enjoyed it more, even if the awkward shoulder and upper chest kisses weren’t as nice as the belly ones.

Mobius and Loki didn’t really feel like shopping, feeling like they had done more than enough of that during their trip to the mall last week, but Sylvie and the rest of the group didn’t mind browsing. So often, when someone wanted to peek into a quaint shop, Mobius and Loki waited outside on a bench or resting against a tree, reading some stories and going through nursery rhymes quietly unless something happened to catch Loki’s eye in a window, in which case, Sylvie would help him with his walking and need to constantly remind him that “we look with our eyes, not with our hands” and gently bat his fingers away from whatever fragile item he fancied.

By the end of the trip, Loki had amassed a new story book and a collapsible wooden push toy, that Sylvie had really bought more for herself, than for her little bunny. (Luckily, that was the last shop they stopped in before saying goodbyes and heading home, so they weren’t lugging it around for long).

“So we’ll see you tomorrow around the office?” Clint asked.

“Yeah, we should be good from there on out,” Mobius smiled.

They talked professionally, but Sylvie and Loki were giving hugs, and after Kate pulled him into one, Mobius offered them, too, instead of his corporate handshake.

“See y’all tomorrow!” he called as he opened the doors of the tan car, that really shouldn’t be able to fit Loki in a car seat, yet somehow miraculously did, helping his little and partner before getting in himself.

Well, it went. Not good nor bad, but the brunch sure happened. It was one of the brunches ever. Mobius thought to himself, trying not to make himself laugh at the whole intense mediocrity of the bulk of the day. Maybe Sylvie had more fun, Loki sure didn’t, but maybe Sylvie did. A feeling of accomplishment washed over him. The weight on his shoulders had at least fallen off. That counted for something, right?

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jamiebluewind · 6 years

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My Sides

Note: I decided to make depression a disorder that impacts me and my sides to varying degrees depending on a variety of factors.

Apathy/Rue: Over sleep, disasociation (which can be handy during a crisis), laziness, relaxing, calming down, zoning out, and meh days. Favorite hobby is doing nothing. Doesn't care what pronouns you use for them. Depression causes them to be heightened to the point of causing emotional numbness and loss of all motivation.

Appearance: Perpetual bedhead. Short brown hair with two pale baby blue hair streaks due to fading. Wears an oversized baggy mens cotton tee with a few tiny holes in it and a chest pocket (for candy). They only wear pants when they have to. Otherwise, it's tiny cotton shorts that barely cover them. Owns one pair of flip flops (that they never wear). Fuck bras and shaving.

Restlessness/Max: Over obsessions, compulsions, anxiety, worry, fight/flight/friend/freeze, cognative distortions, and intrusive thoughts. Just a ball of nervousness and overthinking. Loves to research, fixate on topics, theorize, plan for "what if?" scenarios, and overshare about their latest thing. Bad with directions. Has a thing about symmetry. Constantly fidgeting or pacing. Does not do chill. The most likely to cause people to say "that's fucked up" when talking about something they thought of. Most likely to have a friend or freeze response in a dangerous situation. Will bolt when in danger if you trigger their flight response, even if where they end up puts them in more danger. Will act like a rabid animal and attack if you somehow trigger their fight response. They can make Logic harder to hear, but whatever gets through can help them balance out. Apathy can block their fight/flight/friend/freeze response. Depression causes their intrusive thoughts to become much darker.

Appearance: Somewhat messy short brown hair from constantly running their fingers through it. Glasses are a bright color (blue or purple?) so they are harder to misplacd and are either on their face or sitting on top of their head. Eyebags. Long soft scarf around their neck which provides comfort and something to mess with. Long sleeve shirt that's a solid muted or soft color as to not draw attention. A cami underneath just in case. Darker bluejeans (because they hide stains, are durable, and what if period!) with a small flashlight hooked on one of the loops. A hoodie tied around their waist. White sneakers. A wristlet purse with a few emergency items. A hidden necklace with emergency information.

Emotion/River: Over feelings, nostalgia, empathy, love, comforting others, gender identity, and sexuality. Aggressively cares about their friends. Would move heaven and earth to help others. Is a bit of a hoarder. Gender fluctuates between demigirl, bigender, and female. Loves art and fiction. Is both childish and profound. Loves moodrings. Depression either mutes all their emotions but sadness (and sometimes anger) or leaves her comatose.

Appearance: Short brown hair is soft and a little fluffy with two bright blue streaks at the front. Bright clothes with lots of colors. Jewelery that suits their mood. Has 2 colorful pronoun bracelets. Always wears at least one mood ring. Beautiful colorful tattoos without a unified theme (although many are cute or look like they came from a cartoon or comic). Several ear piercings and one sparkly nostril. Wears eyeliner and lip tint when she feels like dressing fem and occasionally uses eyeshadow. Clothes are usually androgynous. T-shirt has writing on it that made her smile. Shirt has a crew cut on "they days" and a v-neck on "she days". Reflective rainbow colored novelty purse. Sandals. Owns one floofy long skirt. The rest of their bottoms are shorts, capris, or pants. They usually wear capris.

Logic/Jo: Over intelligence, knowledge, curiosity, theorizing, the logical side of beliefs, and objectivity. Loves learning and reading non-fiction, but is fond of certain fictional works. Schedules, pay the bills, and self care. Open minded. Loves to research and has a massive library of knowledge, but due to the multi-dimensional nature of their room, information sometimes ends up stored in the wrong place. Fascinated by religions on an intellectual, historical, and cultural standpoint and uses what she learns to be mindful and respectful. Can counteract cognative distortions, but can also cause or amplify fixations on her quest for knowledge. Stubborn. Depression causes them to have difficulty functioning and sometimes become distorted until they find reasons to do dangerous or harmful things.

Appearance: Short brown hair is always professional. Simple glasses have dark blue, almost black frames. No piercings or tattoos. Cotton polo and slacks. Only jewelery is an elegant stirling necklace with a long chain and a large simple diamond shaped charm (one side says "She" while the other says "They"). Comfortable professional black loafers.

Creativity/Journey: Over inspiration, creativity, brainstorming, certain types of problem solving, ingenuity, out of the box thinking, writing, singing, photography, other creations, worldbuilding, jokes, puns, acting, and certain types of lying to others. Frequently goes on tangents. Run on sentences. Can be a little too energetic and random. Once inspired, they can't stop thinking about something until it's done or they run out of inspiration or drive. Has a wall of books for cataloguing ideas and unfinished projects (often taking from several old ones to build a new one), but the order has no rhythm or reason (even to them). Can be heightened or hindered by Restlessness. Apathy can help Creativity with daydreams and less fear, but make it difficult for them to take action. Depression makes them barely function, save acting and negative ideas.

Appearance: Dark purple hair with several bright blue hair steaks. Ear piercings and one sparkly dermal near their left eye. Purple eyeliner. Modified a pair of comfy overall shorts (aka shortalls) to be backless with a halter top fit (instead of the traditional tank top fit) so they would have lots of pockets to store stuff while having the most skin exposed to show off their extensive tattoos. Tends to wear a strapless binder or halter top underneath to avoid boob slips. Runs around in socks indoors, but has hiking boots for outside. Tattoos are artistic with heavy symbolism as well as quotes.

Ambiguity/Duo: Over morally gray areas, lying to others and oneself, telling the truth to others and oneself, spotting both deceit and honesty in others, superstitions, the illogical side of beliefs, seeing the good in the bad and visa versa, sarcasm, and occasional devil's advocate. Not quick to judge. Sees gender as a social construct, but also that some people require it. Sees religion as something that is not necessary for them to be happy, but knows it is important to others and will fight for those rights (as long as it doesn't hurt the individual, others, or society itself). Balances the line of what is and is not socially acceptable. Personal truths. Has a very "you do you" attatude. Probably enjoys yoga and certain fiction, especially ones that subvert expectations and/or tropes. Depression causes them to become skewed. Because of this, some things become amplified (lies to self and others, seeing the bad in good,...), some things become weakened (honesty, seeing the good in bad, spotting honesty,...), and some things become tainted (deceit is spotted when none is there, beliefs become tainted,...).

Appearance: Right half of face is white while the left half is black. A gray part in the middle where one color fades into the other that's about the width of their lips. Hair and clothing follow the same theme with the only color being their blue hazel eyes. Hair is held back with a metallic silver headband. Button up shirt with a sheer back (similar look to this). One glove on the left side. Bottoms are pinstripe palazzo pants or culottes. Ballet slippers. Has an ornimental tattoo on their back and one on each ankle.

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Other facts...

My sides all have their individual jobs and functions, but they also work together on certain things.

My morality comes from Emotion, Logic, and Ambiguity. They work together despite their frequent disagreements.

Beliefs come from Logic and Ambiguity. Emotion can help by attaching a feeling to each belief.

If my ego is hurt, it effects Creativity, Emotions, and/or Logic depending on which was targeted. The same goes for the opposite (such as when praised).

Having my ego hurt make Restlessness freak out and overthink everything.

Despite Emotion having main control over gender identity (mine being femfluidflux), Logic has some input. Occasionally, Apathy or Ambiguity have a say.

Creativity literally created a new type of clothing for their needs. The halter shortalls currently do not exist to my knowledge.

All the sides have a varying level of fondness for cats. Apathy respects their chill. Restlessness finds them calming as well as a good way to release nervous energy. Emotion's heart just melt from the adorableness and wants all snuggles. Logic appreciates the proven medical benefits of having a pet. Creativity loves making cat toys, taking photos, and playing games with cats. Ambiguity admires their independence and controlled chaos. Their opinions on other animals varies.

None of my sides are entirely good or entirely bad. They also balance each other. (Apathy can help Emotion and Restlessness chill. Emotion can help Apathy when they get heightened. Restlessness can help spur the others into action as well as fixate to help Logic and Creativity. Emotion gives Logic and Creativity encouragement as well as helping make sure writing hits right in the feels. Logic helps the others with facts and helps break through negative thinking and spirals. Creativity helps connect thoughts in new and exciting ways and helps Restlessness find new ways to coop. Ambiguity helps the others make the hard decisions and keeps Logic from becoming too ridged.)

#my sides #bluewind talks #sanders sides #original sides

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