brooklynishere: (4)
[personal profile] brooklynishere
Siobhan Conlon had run away from home at age 12 and very quickly realised that the streets were a terrible place for a girl. Especially one with a smart mouth and a violent temper. It wasn't that she couldn't handle herself - she absolutely could - but she didn't want to have to all the time.

So she'd stolen some boy's clothes from a washing line and spent her second-to-last dime on a haircut, and when she'd shown up at the circulation gate with the other newsies one cold November morning, three weeks after first leaving home, they'd accepted her with open arms.

After that, it wasn't long before she had a bed at the boarding house, a whole new family and a name - Spot.

By now she has it down to an art, as the leader of Brooklyn she had her own room at the boarding house which made it easier, but she's spent years perfecting her act, she's got the swagger and the voice and the look, and everybody thinks she's just small for a boy - Spot's certainly got more than enough personality to make up for it.

So when Dodger comes strolling into her life she doesn't think anything of it at first, he's just another cocky kid for her to take under her wing and show the ropes, and if she finds him somewhat attractive... well, it wouldn't be the first time she's thought that about someone. She'll get over it, she always does. She can't risk revealing herself, not after all this time.

There's something about him, though, something that's just kind of easy to get along with - even when they're arguing - and Spot just likes having him around. It's dangerous, really dangerous, but she can't stop herself being around him.
brooklynishere: (aged up)
[personal profile] brooklynishere
It was rare, very rare, when Brooklyn was outmatched. It was a point of pride for Spot Conlon that there wasn't nobody who could soak Brooklyn, or anybody from Brooklyn, and get away with it.
He didn't intend to break that track record. This upstart gang from Queens is gonna get their asses handed to them.

...just maybe not today.

His eye is stinging and he can already tell he's going to have one hell of a shiner in a couple of hours, it's going to make a nice accompaniment to his split lip and the bruises blossoming up and down his ribs. Half his boys have already scarpered and honestly, Spot doesn't blame them, they're cornered and even Racetrack wouldn't bet on them winning right now, not without reinforcements.

He smacks one of them across the face with his cane and sees a break in the scuffle, Dodger already darting away down an alley. Spot dives after him.

Queens will give chase, he knows they will, but if he can lure them deep enough into Brooklyn then revenge will be swift and merciless. If they decide to fall back, he'll get them another day, when he's healed up and has the satisfaction of soaking them himself.

He makes it down two more side streets, hot on Dodger's heels, when there's a sudden yank on his braces and he's pulled off his feet with a yelp that (thankfully) gets lost in the yelling and pounding of feet.

He swings out wildly with his cane, but it's not long before he's reduced to curling into a protective ball as boots and fist rain down on him - there's four of them and only one of him, and he still ain't that big.

He's starting to feel pretty dazed by the time there's another, more familiar shout, and suddenly his attackers are falling back under a volley of stones. The cavalry's coming.

Most of the newly arrived Brooklyn boys give chase, but a couple haul Spot to his feet and start checking him over. He waves away their fussing.

"Jus' get me back home," he mumbles, jaw stiff and swollen, and they blessedly don't need telling twice. He refuses to be carried, instead slinging his arms around their shoulders for support as he hobbles back to the lodging house - or more accurately, hops; one of his legs refuses to take any of his weight without trying to buckle underneath him.

They get him back to the house, carrying him up to the bunk room and getting him sat down on the edge of his bed. A hoard of newsies crowds around him, conflicting medical advice flying in all directions.
itvaries: (Default)
[personal profile] itvaries
The fact that Loki had paid a little visit to Earth and engaged in a dalliance there was... probably not that surprising. He had a habit of doing that kind of thing, after all.
He hadn't actually intended for that dalliance to result in a child, but nobody really did.
It was just a pity he hadn't realised the child was born until much later, he had intended to be a better father than Odin after all, and he hadn't exactly got the best start on that.

But he dropped in whenever he got the chance to make sure Dodger was doing well for himself, and he seemed happy and healthy and he seemed to be having fun, so Loki didn't really question it and instead just taught him all the sleight of hand he knew - and maybe he watched for a little bit of magic as well. He didn't know if Dodger had inherited that particular gift, but it was worth looking out for.

Dodger's not the easiest to find, of course, so each trip tends to start with a bit of a wander around the streets of London - he's almost made his way through all of Dodger's usual haunts and still not found the lad, so he's starting to get a little concerned, not that he'd show it of course.

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