Look Stuff

Me: Okay well. Maybe if I go to sleep super duper early, I’ll get a decent amount of sleep.

Me: Okay well. Maybe now I can get some stuff done.

me every time: 

Me: *removes my clown nose*

Me: *removes my clown wig*

Me: *removes my silk handkerchief*

Me: *removes my silk handkerchief *

July 21 2016 - During the Olympic torch relay in Brazil an out of control motorcycle cop hits a bicycle cop who hits a cop on foot and they all fall to the ground.

Like, let’s say that the contents of the dice reservoir is composed of a random assortment of d4, d6, d8, d10, d12, and d20. So you calculate the probability of how many of each dice is in the reservoir.

Then you scoop dice from a given area of the reservoir into the pitcher. So you calculate the probability of how many of each dice ends up in the pitcher.

Then you pour the pitcher onto the floor and calculate the probability of the total sum of all the dice.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peter Parker: -on meeting Loki, offers his hand- Hi, I’m Peter!

Loki: -shakes his hand- Loki of Asgard.

Peter: Aren’t you like…a bad guy?

Loki: It varies from moment to moment.

Peter: So like…on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst evil imaginable, like…killing puppies, and one being I’ll spit on your hotdog…where are you right now?

Loki: …maybe a three?

Peter: Cool. Lemme know if it gets above a six.

It was hard living around these heroic Avengers, hard trying to stay close to Thor. And when he felt his need for mischief rise too high, when he felt exasperation with these Midgardians turn too close to spite, he would casually say “Six.” to the young man, or sometimes “Seven.”

It took some time before a truly bad day came up.

After a difficult battle, the Captain was being particularly sanctimonious, his team following suit. Even Stark made biting comments.

Loki could scream.

“Spider-man,” he said as calmly as he could. The young man glanced up, having been tying up some of their enemies a few yards away.

“Seven.”

“… okay, guys, I’m going to head out with Loki for the rest of the day. Don’t need us for debrief, yeah?”

“Sure,” Stark shrugged, glancing between the two of them oddly. Loki wasn’t entirely sure what the plan was. They went in civilian clothes to a small café.

“I wasn’t paying attention, so whatever was said, I don’t agree,” Peter began. “But that’s not what I’m here for. So. When you teleport, how does that work? Is it harder with longer distances? Or is knowledge of the place more helpful?” Loki blinked, but explained. It led to a discussion of magical theory. Peter (Loki still called him Parker aloud, but the child and even his young friends grew on him in time) was eager and curious, comparing what he knew from Strange and fantasy books to Loki’s knowledge. It was admittedly fascinating to see how many versions of sorcery humans had created by mere imagination. He was definitely amused by the elves and dwarves of Lord of the Rings.

Sometimes Peter tentatively asked about Strange and Maximoff, if they were doing similar things. Never if Loki was at an 8 or above though.

“Strange is like a child prodigy. He’s good, picks the practical parts up well. He even got the jump on me - but he has not had as much time to study as me. He’s a student where I am a master. Maximoff is incredibly powerful and incredibly lucky, but she does not have much training at all.” Sometimes conversation turned to music, animals, current events.

Peter was good. It was odd, how Loki became so sure of the fact so quickly.

After the conversations, often accompanied with food or a walk, he was always down to a 3 or so. Which made Peter an important person.

So the next time Peter was in trouble and the Avengers were indisposed, Loki was not the least bit surprised that he was not the only one ready to tear someone apart for the kid. Two men in red - one with horns, one with guns and swords - a young girl with cat-shaped blasters on her hands, and the Captain’s assassin friend. Loki curled his lips and muttered:

It was just after noon on a Saturday when Loki got a text from Peter, all it said was 

‘8, I’m at home′

Peter had never used their number system for himself before.

Loki had promised the boy’s aunt he would not teleport into their home and while he’d had every intention of honouring that promise, this was definitely an exception.

When Loki materialized in Peter’s room, his friend was pacing, angry and red-faced. Loki had never seen Peter furious before.

Peter began shouting when he saw Loki, ‘Men are scum! Irredeemable, horrible, crappy, scummy scum!’

‘Thank you for telling me, Peter.’ Loki said, sitting down on Peter’s bed. ‘Any particular men inspiring this diatribe?’

Peter grabbed a pillow off his bed and screamed into it, ‘There’s a guy at Aunt May’s work who’s harassing her and she says I need to stay out of it and let Human Resources do their jobs and he’s a creep and he’s making May feel creeped out and… I don’t know what to do.’

Loki blinked. Of all the people Peter could have gone to, he had chose Loki.

‘Thank you, for telling me this. Although I’m not sure how I can be of help.’

Peter flopped down onto the bed next to Loki, ‘You’re my friend and you’re an adult. And I wasn’t sure who else to talk to.’

Loki flopped back next to Peter, it seemed appropriate. ‘If Human Resources doesn’t sort this out to your satisfaction, I can turn this person into a goat.’

Peter giggled, ‘An ugly, stupid goat?’