#the other half of the situations just come from having relatives and family friends that actively seek out situations

[storiesofsvu]

Alex Blake SFW Alphabet

Alex Blake x reader warnings: none really, some sexual situations talked about. SURPRISE! Two things in one day! a WIN. I thought maybe sitting down and doing some headcanons from templates might help get the ball rolling on creativity so you might see a few more things like this pop out this week! <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Alex is relatively affectionate, especially around friends or in private. She wants to make sure her friends and partner know that they are cared about and just how much. She doesn’t shy away from a squeeze on the hand, hugs or quick kisses in public. At home with you she’s very touchy, a hand on you as often as possible, curled up on the couch with you while she reads and you watch tv. She also shows her affection by picking up little treats for you whenever she’s out during the day. Whether it’s a candy bar added to the grocery order, or a post card from a city the BAU has visited recently, she loves having something to give to you when she gets home.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

First and foremost, she’s loyal. Once she knows you, and trusts you, trusts her gut that you are a friend, she’s always going to have your back and make sure to help you with whatever it is you might need. I like to think that she’s a pretty friendly person and isn’t afraid of striking up conversations with strangers in public. She’s someone that has lots of ‘regular’s’ that she runs into during her errand running and the like, ya know what I mean?

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Hear me out: Alex is the biggest snuggler. She adores it, especially after a long day of either teaching or profiling. It’s quiet, soft, tender, the easiest way to show affection without having to move and it literally releases endorphins to make everyone feel better. She loves being sprawled on the couch and having you slotted between her legs, either propped up on her chest while you read together, or curled around her so she can play with your hair. At night she loves being tangled up in your limbs in bed, simply holding each other as you fall asleep.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Alex has been there done that. And she kinda always thought that was it for her, she’d had her love, had her marriage and now was married to the job. Until she meets you and realizes that there’s room for more than one great love in each life. She doesn’t particularly want to get married again, knowing all the extra ordeals that go along with that, but she’ll happily commit to a life partner, and lbh, if a ring and a party make you happy, she’ll definitely go for it.

I like to think Alex is a very clean person. Like, not overly wiping down every surface with Lysol constantly, but her apartment is always clean and tidy. There is almost always a coffee mug on the coffee table in some level of half drunk, but that’s about it. Her dishes are dealt with right away, things don’t get left out, everything has a home and is almost always in it. You do often tease her about her “clutter” being the pile of books that somehow seems to move from room to room (and they’re always all together in said stack, it’s never one or two moving around). Cooking wise she’s good. Nothing extravagant. She knows the basics and usually sticks with that. Though she also does really enjoy finding a new recipe to experiment with at least once a month.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

(I’m ngl. Part of me really wants to say she would like, just ghost and disappear without continuing communication. Cause.. she literally hates conflict, vanishes on her family and peaced out on the BAU without an actual goodbye.. LOL)

BUT, our girl has more respect for that when it comes to people she’s romantically interested in, even if that has faded. It’s going to be quick, a rip the band-aid off situation and she’ll likely do it at your place so that it’s private and she can leave quickly once it’s done and you have some privacy to grieve alone.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

One of these days I’ll remember that this is down here and not cover it under D, LOL. So, as stated, she doesn’t necessarily care for marriage again, but if she was to find love again she’s fully committed to it and will love you for the rest of her life. She *might* consider marriage if it’s an absolute dealbreaker for you, but it’s usually something she’ll bring up on the first date or so, so you both know from the start and the likelihood of her running into it down the road when she’s fully in love and invested isn’t as likely.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Listen, when this bitch isn’t dealing with unsubs, she is the most gentle fucking soul on earth. She is Mother. She is tender, loving, caring and just so sweet. Her touch is always soft, fingers trailing across your skin, drawing patterns on it while she listens to you tell stories. She’s generally pretty gentle and tender in the bedroom as well, she prefers to praise, overstimulate or edge, teasing with her words rather than physical pain. If you ask she might experiment a little bit more into that pool but she doesn’t like to inflict pain.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Alex is a hugger, even if it’s just a small, quick one to say hello/goodbye while she drops a kiss to the top of your head. If she’s been gone for a while she yearns for a longer, deeper one, truly sinking into the embrace, wrapping herself tightly around you as she tucks her head into the crook of your neck. Her hugs are always full of love and affection and a way to kinda say what’s on her mind without actually having to say anything. Like, you literally cannot tell me she doesn’t give amazing hugs.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

For a linguist, she’s not great with words when it comes to feelings/conveying things properly in relationships (both romantic, and platonic). So she’s gonna show you that she loves you before she actually says it. She also knows that other ways of showing love can mean more than the simple words of saying it, it shows that she actually really means it rather than just throwing the phrase around a lot. So she’s not someone who does say it a lot, she prefers to keep it for the moments when it really does mean a lot, or the extremely private, intimate moments in the dark as you’re falling asleep together.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Alex is another one of those insecure jealousy types. She’s confident in herself and in your relationship, but you are a little bit younger, and she can be more introverted. So sometimes seeing you out with your friends flitting around like a social butterfly she wishes that she could be more like that, or more social, especially when it comes to your group of people. She’s not one to make a scene about it, but there has been more than one occasion where she’ll approach you, press a soft kiss to your cheek and say she’s going home, feign an excuse of being tired or not feeling great and *insist* that you stay out and have a good time.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Her kisses are soft, tender, and only for you. They can definitely be fiery in the right situation, but she uses kisses as a primary way to express her love. She loves to kiss the top of your head, your cheek, the tip of your nose, the back of your hand, and of course your lips. When she wants to make you absolutely melt, she’ll wrap herself around you from behind and trail kisses up and down your neck until you’re putty in her hands and practically dragging her into the bedroom.

She loves you kisses no matter where you kiss her. There’s something about the little grin on your face before you leave a kiss anywhere on her body that absolutely gives her butterflies and makes her blush, even to this day. Alex has a particularly soft spot for the way you’ll kiss her inner thighs before going down on her.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Loaded question my dude.

Alex is incredibly good with kids. She loves being around them and will happily spend an afternoon running around the yard with JJ’s boys, even “suffering” through cleaning up, bath time and adores reading them bedtime stories. She’ll always offer up babysitting services for her friends and absolutely adores getting to be “Auntie Alex” but it always leaves her drained and full of a sense of missing out, especially as she watches her friends’ kids growing up and hitting milestones and she simply yearns for getting to see her own son do the same.

And to follow up with that; no she doesn’t want to have any other kids. Of her own or adopted. She knows that she would be absolutely terrified from the moment of conception that everything was going to go wrong again. She knows she would be a helicopter parent and be obsessively overprotective and every time the kid so much as coughed her mind would go straight to the worst case scenario and she knows she can’t handle that.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Her mornings are relaxed, both work mornings and weekend mornings. The only difference is having to say goodbye on workdays (and getting up a little earlier). There’s the morning paper, followed by the morning crossword, coffee of course and breakfast.

On the weekends those things generally all still happen in bed, or curled up on the couch with a couple of fuzzy blankets while you enjoy the quiet of the morning, the sun getting brighter, birds chirping outside and each other’s company.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are fun, a little more spirited, more laughter and fun sprinkled in there as you wind down from the day, likely accompanied by a glass of wine or two. Dinner is likely cooked together, even if together means one of you cooking while the other sits on the counter and keeps them company. There’s music playing through the house, stories of your days/weeks told and plenty of stolen kisses while you’re waiting for a pot to boil or timer to go off.

Evenings are spent either on the couch or out in the back yard on the fancy furniture, lounging together while you read, watch tv, or catch up on work. Alex adores the nights that you scoop up one of her books of poetry and climb into her lap so she can read to you while playing with your hair.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Homegirl keeps a lot pretty tight lipped. There’s a lot she’s going to keep to herself and it’s going to have to actually be asked specifically to her before she’ll bring it up. She’ll mention that she was married before, she likely still has a decent relationship with James so that comes up pretty quick. But otherwise it’s a little thing here, a little thing there and there’s likely still some things you don’t know about her when you’ve been together for years.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

She’s got the patience of a fucking god. Alex doesn’t do angry, she can do frustrated, or annoyed, but she really doesn’t get that angry often. And if she does she’s going to bottle it up and save it for work when she can/needs to take it out on an unsub. If the two of you get into it and things are starting to explode into something where things might be said that you don’t really mean, she’s always the one to hit pause, put a pin in it and the two of you both walk away and cool down so you can sit down and discuss the actual issue at hand later on.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

With her brain?!?

Of fucking course she’s remembering like, 98% of the things that you tell her, hell, even the things you don’t tell her. She’s just got a way. She caught the way your eyes lit up at the sight of a molten lava cake being taken to a table when you were out to dinner and the next time you were having a rough day she ordered one delivered. She borrowed your phone once when hers was dead to use your Spotify and discovered which artist you had on repeat 24/7 and of course got tickets to their concert for your birthday. You always stole a particular sweater of hers on cold days and you felt bad, giving it back after a day cause it was so cozy and she needed to be warm too so she bought it in five other colours for both of you to share.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

The moment that she knew she was in love with you. It was something small, domestic, just quietly and intimately sharing the same space for hours on end. Maybe the first full weekend you hadn’t left her apartment and seeing you move through her space with no issues, making yourself at home and she knew that she liked her home a hell of a lot better with you in it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Alex is the perfect amount of protective. She knows you can take care of yourself and never wants to be overbearing, so she lets you live your life when you’re apart. However she is the one to always make sure you’re attentive when you’re alone at night, that your car door is locked as soon as you’re in it, if your apartment doesn’t have a security system when you meet you better bet that she’ll make you install one. She insists that anytime you’re out with your friends you call her to come pick you up when you’ve had too much to drink. If you’re out together and she can sense that you’re uncomfortable because of the idiot hitting on you, she’s gonna wrap an arm around your waist, press a kiss to your cheek and get you outta there as quickly as she can.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Regular dates not so much, but if she’s been out of town for a while she makes sure to plan something nice, it’s never anything crazy or over the top, but an excuse for you to dress up a little bit so she can take you out for a nice dinner. Anniversaries are always sentimental for Alex, there’s flowers, time spent together likely at home with a homecooked or take out dinner before the night is spent in the bedroom. Gifts for big days are always similar, they’re things that you’ve talked about loving, or something that’s rare, hard to find, something you mentioned in passing a couple of times that she happened to come across. Or homemade presents, ones made with love instead of bought with money.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Overworking FOR SURE. It’s pretty often that you have to wander into the home office well past midnight and drag her to bed. She’ll argue that she ‘only has one thing left to do’ but will thank you beyond belief in the morning. She also has a tendency to work through her meals, something that only got worse once she was at the BAU, so you’ll always make sure she has lunch packed, and if she’s teaching you’ll swing by to have lunch with her.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Alex isn’t overly concerned. She’s always professionally put together, makes sure she looks good in that sense, but make up isn’t something she delves into too much, and she’s never going to think about going under the knife for beauty things, she’s just going to hope she ages gracefully.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Hmmm….. No. I think that she would be fine. She’s always been a pretty independent person; she spent a lot of time apart from James and she never had too much of a problem with it. She doesn’t need a partner to feel secure and like she’s a whole person, she’s all that on her own. She’d also thought she was going to be single forever post divorce and had no issues with that, meeting someone new was just a happy coincidence.

X = Xtra (A random head canon for them.)

I can’t think of anything totally random so you’re getting something canon related. Her and Strauss were in the academy together and they definitely fucked or were in some kind of relationship that obviously didn’t end well. She also had a little crush on JJ, whether she realized it or not.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She’s not a fan of dumb people, and we’re not talking like, college dropouts, she’s fine if you didn’t go to post secondary school. We’re talking plain logic, street smarts. If someone has zero interests and thus nothing to ever educate themselves on, she’s not into it. (like, this could be some insanely smart thing that like, Reid is into, or it could be something like different strains of weed, she does not care, just use your brain for something). Even worse than that to her is people who *play* dumb. She’s got zero patience when it comes to that.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Has a nightly routine that she sticks to every night, no matter what. If she’s on the road, up late, whatever, she absolutely always has to brush teeth, wash her face, apply some minimal skin care, turn down the lights and read at least a small chapter before she can go to bed. She likes to keep routine and normalcy and this really helps with that.

___________

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[creekfiend]

Hey, do you have family in Israel? Do you know whether they are alright?

sure, I do. in my experience most American Jews have family in Israel. When my family left their village in what is now Belarus, half of those leaving came to the US and half went to Palestine. (and those who remained were killed and that village does not exist anymore) I am not in close contact with the Israeli side but I expect I would have heard something if any of them had been hurt. Josh has much closer Israeli family as his brother Yoav and nieces/nephews all live there but they are also fine to my knowledge.

I appreciate the check in, but I will be perfectly honest with you that while it hurts my heart immensely that so many Israeli civilians have been killed, right now I am primarily concerned about the millions of people in Gaza without electricity or running water who have been ordered to evacuate or get exploded but who have nowhere to go. I am very, VERY concerned about the statements being made by the garbage fascists in control of the Israeli government right now openly stating their genocidal intentions on a scale that we haven't previously seen.

we are all triggered and traumatized as hell about everything, and by we I mean Jews, and I think it's understandable for us to feel that way. but I also am struggling a lot with the degree to which many of my fellow American Jews are making this ABOUT our big feelings of fear and anxiety. I understand that anticipating things becoming More Dangerous is something all Jews have had to do constantly forever. I understand that "position of relative privilege" is something that's extremely conditional for Jews and something that can be taken away at the drop of a hat. but... I don't know. I've been trying to think of anything coherent or helpful in any way to say for the past several days and coming up short. it's a nightmare. But it would be disingenuous to deny that it's a nightmare for me in ways that are removed pretty significantly from the ways in which it is a nightmare for other people.

my family is fine. I understand and empathize with the sentiments of "but what if my family becomes NOT fine?" especially when this is the largest mass killing of Jewish civilians since... well. and I am also enraged and terrified by the comfort with which many leftist gentiles seem to be practically celebrating those deaths. but I'm really preoccupied by the fact that millions of people and their families in Gaza are Not Fine in a huge and terrible way right now as we speak. this is not to say that it is a contest, but if I am doing triage, it is very clear to me whose leg is more broken right now. While acknowledging, again, that we are in a scary place globally regarding antisemitism.

Angry Jew on fb has been posting a lot of stuff that really speaks to how I am feeling right now. devastated by the horrible ways some of my people have been killed, and devastated also that inexcusable violence is being done, essentially, in my name. I hate to talk about this publicly because I also fucking wish American gentiles would kind of shut up about it a lot of the time, to be honest. and I hate feeling like I am giving anyone ammunition in their weird ideological internet fights about having The More Correct Opinion in the hypothetical trolley problem-ass situation that so many of them act like this is. the refusal to learn about any specifics of the situation in favor of just deciding it must be exactly like some other unrelated geopolitical issue that they feel they have a better handle on, and then just... overwriting the reality of the situation so that it matches up with what they are comfortable imagining in their heads. I have had to unfollow and block a lot of people lately.

I mostly talk to my safe Jewish and Muslim friends about this. and select few safe non-muslim gentiles.

Right now I am grieving for many reasons. Since you asked me about my personal connection I will tell you the main things I remember learning and feeling about this growing up. I've never been to Israel. Not close enough to my family there to visit, although my dad did, & never comfortable with programs like Birthright. I remember in the 90s my dad, who was an administrator at the school of Public Health at the local university, was helping put together programs that would bring Israeli and Palestinian universities and public health groups together to work on universal public health issues like helping ppl stop smoking, vaccination, etc. it was going really well at the time. he was going over there a few times a year to coordinate with the people running the programs there. he was really optimistic about it, & several other similar programs. this was back when Yasser Arafat and Yitzak Rabin/Shimon Peres were having a lot of talks that were seemingly productive and hopeful. like obviously it was hardly a golden age but it seemed like maybe Israel was moving away from violence. and then 9/11 happened and everything exploded and all the little programs simply disappeared and my dad never went back to work with anyone. and then fucjing... Netanyahu. and it seems like since then everything only gets worse and worse and further and further from anything other than horrible violence, and that devastates me

In high school I took a Mideast Civ class and one of my fellow students was a kid whose parents had been expelled from Palestine during the war and fled to America. what I remember being struck by when he talked about this was how his family's story was so similar to my family's story and a deep sense of shame and anger that people who had undergone what my family had could then make his family undergo the same thing. That's still a pretty big part of how I feel. I don't accept that that kid's experience was necessary to keep me or my family safe.

I'm just a guy. I try my best to learn as much as I can and listen to a large variety of people connected to this so I can have a more holistic view of things. I'm not making this post rebloggable for obvious reasons but since it's here on my blog, for anyone reading who is also feeling despair, here's some organizations that are good to follow & support if you are able (non-exhaustive obviously)

synagoguesrising.org Synagogues Rising is a coalition of leftist synagogues in the US who advocate for Palestinian liberation and who are currently begging the US government to work to deescalate military violence and provide humanitarian aid to people in Gaza

refuser.org Refusers Solidarity Network is a group advocating for Israelis who refuse to serve in the military as conscientious objectors

map.org.uk Medical Aid for Palestinians living under occupation & as refugees

Genuinely, thanks for asking about my family. if you also have family in the area, I hope they are also alright.

I want everyone to be alright. I know this is a lot of big baby feelings and no particular political ideologies or solutions and that's because I'm just one fucking Jew and I'm not an activist or a revolutionary and I kind of feel a bit like other online people could stand to admit more often that they're also just some guy and also not activists or revolutionaries. I sure have beliefs and I sure feel strongly about them, but man, right now I just want to express grief & anger & worry about how awful this government is and how many people they're going to kill and how much I wish it was not happening

my family is Ok.

eta: I'm reading this back and realizing that as a response to this ask it makes it sound like I'm saying that inquiring about the well-being of someone's Israeli relatives is like, inherently devaluing the well-being of other ppl and I very much am not saying that and do not believe that. I'm just enormously emotionally dysregulated and this got me kind of stream of consciousness about all of the things I have been chasing around in my brain about this.

[raayllum]

Anyways time to analyze this screencap

This was originally a split second clip from the Bardel projects' reel, although it's since been omitted... and interacted with online by some of the team / cat's out of the bag, so uh - here's the meta!

The first aim is to try to establish when this is taking place timeline wise (aka in which season and when). The second will be who I think this scene involves (which is Rayllum and I'm gonna explain why). Spoilers for 6x01 thanks to previous Cons and proceed with caution if you don't want any spoilers!

So 6x01, "Startouched," has Rayla and Callum embark to the Starscraper by the end of the episode alongside Stella. This means they will presumably not be reuniting with anyone else from the Main Cast until at least the season's midpoint (6x05) if not later (6x07-6x08), by which point the plot will likely be in full swing, even if Aaravos was not released by the season's midpoint. That means there may not be as much time for something that seems like a cute little filler moment as this seems to be.

Not impossible, but I think it's unlikely that this shot/scene is from S6 from a plot / time standpoint.

Another reason in this column is that we know Hat at least, but presumably the other Baitlings too, are with Soren and Zym when they go to Lux Aurea to meet up with Corvus again.

So there's no way, realistically, it could be in early season six. If it is in later season six, it means that Callum and Rayla succeed at the Starscraper / escape relatively unscathed enough with a small window between reuniting with the boys / Ezran and shit hitting the fan. It is a window, narrow, but not impossible

My early estimate could also be early S7 as, again, the latter half of the final season will be particularly intense, and I could see the characters trying to have some down time / make the best of a bad situation earlier on in the season when there's a bit more time, well, to let them try

As for the boat itself...

The first thing is that the boat is decorated quite prettily and prominently with roses, which just feels romantic. Stella is juggling and the Baitlings (who seem to be singing) seem to be putting on some small, endearingly silly sort of performance. possibly added by the two (Star arcanum?) birds we see. There's also a warm yellow-ish light source coming from the bottom of the picture and subsequently probably the upper middle of the boat, which makes me think of candles.

I'm willing to bet that this is a Rayllum moment since it just screams Callum being very sweet and romantic, and setting up this (maybe they have to take a boat and he wants it to be better, maybe it's just for fun) boat to try and distract Rayla because she doesn't really like them. I can't see Janai or Amaya being interested in a little animal circus performance, so that rules them out to me, and we hardly ever see Stella be separated from Rayla, even temporarily. So I think this being a Rayllum scene makes the most sense because of Stella's inclusion, and maybe it is Callum wanting to do something special for her, whether it's them officially getting back together, or just spending some time together even while the world is ending cause y'know, they missed out on two years of dates they could've gone on, and want to use some of the time they have left for that.

Stella is also juggling Adoraburrs, which have a tendency (presumably) to be primarily close to the Moonshadow forests, since we don't see the tiny ones anywhere else in Xadia, so it could even be a pit stop on the way back to the Silvergrove to get her and her family unghosted, perhaps (and all the more reason to try and take her mind off things).

My other consideration for a pair is Sorvus, since I could see Soren being silly and setting up the Bailting choir (he seems close to Hat in particular) and I think Corvus would be endeared by it, ultimately. That doesn't account for Stella though, and while Soren and Corvus are clearly friends/co-workers on the crownguard, they haven't had a lot of even teasingly romantic development, so I don't feel like the story is really gonna prioritize them heavily as a romance (especially because we have Karim/Miyana, Callum/Rayla, possibly Aaravos and someone in his past, Claudia/Terry breaking up and presumably getting back together, we're gonna get Runaan/Ethari back in these coming seasons in addition to Lain/Tiadrin, and there's always Janai/Amaya, of course). TDP already has a lot of romantic relationships in it, so I feel like Sorvus, if/when they do get together, would probably be a smaller moment later in the final two seasons, and they probably wouldn't get as big a focus as a scene like this seems to imply just from a pacing/character standpoint

Plus, Rayllum kinda has a thing with boats and important moments for them happening on said boats, but that is a meta for another day

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Reader who has a baby brother who acts like kotaro from gakuen baby. (Reader lives with the bsd cast, reader always goes out to take care of his brother, but one day Luiz takes him home and he meets the cast)

My baby brother

Self-Aware! BSD Characters x Male! Reader

Description: Your parents are going on a small vacation and asked you to look after your baby brother, [B/N]. Well, time for him to meet your new roommates/friends.

Warning: Fluff. OOC, English is my second language.

BSD cast noticed one thing. Everyday, even during weekends you were going somewhere, spend at least two hours there and then return home.

At first, Cast thought, that your boss make you work overtime, but you assured them, that's not the case. You mentioned, that the reason for your absence was family related.

You didn't elaborate further. You explained, that, right now, yiu are still trying to come with the fact, that your new roommates are very unique people and that you are living with them in this huge house. You promised, that you will tell them more about your family, when you become more comfortable with current situation.

But soon, they not only knew more about your family, but also met one of your relatives.

___________

Monday

___________

Everyone was a little bit nervous. Today, they will meet someone from your family.

Yesterday, you were talking on the phone with someone. After you finished talking, you had an announcement to make. You gathered everyone in the common room.

"Okay, everyone. For the next week, someone special will stay with us. One of my family members have to stay with me. I hope, everyone is okay with it."

An hour ago, you went to fetch your relative. The Gang wanted to make a good first impression.

They heard a jingle of keys. You were back. The Gang gather in the common room, waiting for you.

They heard steps. Yours and someone else's. The steps were really quiet. Then they heard your voice.

"Hello, everyone. Met my baby brother, [B/N].

You walked inside the common room. You were holding hands with a toddler boy. The boy had big eyes and short hair. You picked your brother up and walked closer to your new roommates/friends.

Your brother looked at the gang. [B/N] was quiet, he was looking at your new friends. You whisper.

"Hey, [B/N], remember, I told you about my new friends? That's them. Say 'Hello'".

Your brother stay quiet for a moment, then smiled and nodded.

"Ung!"

Your brother's eyes were shining. He was happy to meet big brother's friends.

At least half of the characters almost had a heart attack because of the cuteness overload.

Fukuzawa, Mori, Hirotsu, Melville, Natsume, Taneda and Fukuchi were planning to steal you two and adopt you.

You continue talking.

"Our parents have gone on vacation for a next week, so [B/N] will stay with us for a week."

Meanwhile, [B/N] was quiet again. You noticed, that he was looking directly at Akutagawa, who was standing close to you. Ryuunosuke looked at [B/N] in return. Suddenly, [B/N] grabbed Akutagawa's sleeve and giggles.

"Hedgehog!"

Akutagawa's eyes widen, Gin and Higuichi try to hold back their laugh, Dazai was shaking because of laughter and Atsushi looked really nervous. You scolded.

"[B/N], don't do that! Don't call people hedgehogs! I am sorry, Ryunosuke."

Akutagawa just huffed. He doesn't look offended. You smiled.

"Okay, I will make something for [B/N] to eat. I'll be back in a minute."

Before you can do away, [B/N] pointed at Chuuya.

"Wesel [Weasel]!"¹

Dazai was howling with laughter.

"I like this kid"

"[B/N], don't call other people weasels! Chuuya, I am sorry!"

Chuuya also huffs and playfully shove you.

"Don't sweat it, [Y/N]."

[B/N] let out a small whine.

"Wesel... hut Big Brother [Weasel hurt Big Brother]?"

You quickly pet your brother's head.

"No, I am fine, [B/N]. Chuuya was just playing with me."

[B/N] looked at you, then nodded.

"Ung."

When you left, The Cast glance at each other, then said in one time.

"Adorable."

_______

Tuesday

_________

You and [B/N] were 'kidnapped' by Fukuzawa, Mori, Hirotsu, Melville, Natsume, Taneda and Fukuchi.

Natsume used his ability to lure [B/N] in one of the rooms, where the rest of the group were sitting.

When you were looking for [B/N], you also were dragged to the same room.

For the whole day, you two were showered in treats. [B/N] was also showered in toys. And there were photos and videos taken.

The videos of [B/N] saying "Tank you [Thank you]" and "Ung!" and the video of you feeding [B/N] sweets were sent to the group chat.

The videos became their treasures.

If something happens to you two, the BSD cast will destroy the world.

At the end, your 'kidnappers' spend the whole day with you and your brother.

It was fun. You were wondering what would happen tomorrow.

_________

Wednesday

_________

You were mumbling, while you were searching for your brother.

"Okay, where is my brother now. Don't tell me, Natsume and others kidnapped him again "

When you passed the window, you noticed, that your brother were outside. He was looking at something with Tetchou.

You went outside and approached them.

"Hi, [B/N]. Hello, Tetchou. What you are looking at?"

[B/N] stands up and wiggles towards you. He pointed at the ground.

"Big Brother, ants!"

You smile and pat his head. Tetchou cast a quick glance towards you.

"Want to join us in ant watching?"

[B/N]'s eyes shine and he grabbed your sleep.

"Ung!"

You nodded.

"Okay, I am with you."

You watched ants together for a few more minutes.

_________

Thursday

_________

It was dinner time. And you were in trouble.

[B/N] refuse to eat his veggies. Before you eat the treat he made for you. Unfortunately, Tetchou was the one who helped him.

You were looking at three strawberries with shichimi spice on them. Then you looked at [B/N]. He was waiting for you to try strawberries.

Jouno almost growls.

"Tetchou, don't you dare corrupt this sweet child with your taste in food... [Y/N]!"

You ate one of the strawberries. The mix of papers doesn't go well with sweet strawberries. But your brother wants to make you happy. You can take it.

You smile through tears.

"Thank you, [B/N]. It was so good!"

[B/N] smiles.

"Ung! Big Brother is happy!"

You smile and eat another spicy strawberry. Than the last one.

"Thanks, [B/N]. You see, your Big Brother ate everything. You also should eat everything, so you can be as strong and big as your brother."

[B/N] nodded and start eating his veggies.

When he wasn't looking, you drink at least four glasses of water.

Still, for his smile, you were ready to eat more of that strawberries.

At least ten Members of BSD cast want to raise a child with you.

_________

Friday

_________

At the evening, you had a tea party with Rats in the House of the Dead. And with Gogol.

It became a tradition for you, having a Friday tea parties with Fyodor, Goncharov, Pushkin and Gogol.

But today the party will be paused. Because you need to read [B/N] a bedtime story.

"[B/N], have you chosen the book to read? Oh, 'Tsar Nikita and his Forty Daughters'... [B/N], who gave you this book?"

[B/N] point at Pushkin.

"Pushin [Pushkin]"

You glare at Pushkin. This guy was interested in the Real world Pushkin works. So, you won't be surprised, that he told your brother about this book. You hoped, that Pushkin didn't do it on purpose.² You spoke to your brother again.

"[B/N], this book is for adults. Let's choose another one."

At the end, you read him "If you give a mouse a cookie". And, because Fyodor, Gogol, Goncharov and Pushkin were fine listening to your reading, you read for them too at the same time.

When finished, [B/N] was sleeping. You carry him to your room, where he also was sleeping.

When you were back, you heard Fyodor's words.

"You will be a good father, [Y/N]."

You were too embarrassed, to say something in return.

_________

Saturday

_________

You were carrying a bunch of shopping bags. Yosano and Fitzgerald decide to take you and your brother on a shopping trip. Your brother get few onesies, new choose and toys.

You got a new bag and coat. You were glad, that your parents were fine with your roommates' presents.

Your parents knew, that your roommates were kind people who liked you. And who liked giving presents.

You smile sadly. Tomorrow, your parents are returning. Tomorrow [B/N] will go back home.

________

Sunday

_________

Once again, BSD cast were gathered in the common room. It was time for [B/N] to go home.

You were holding your brother.

"Okay, [B/N], say goodbye."

[B/N] nodded and turn towards BSD cast.

"Bye Teto! Bye Chu-chu! Bye Ryu! Bye Yosa! Bye Fitz! Buy Zawa...! [Tetchou, Chuuya, Ryunosuke, Yosano, Fitzgerald, Fukuzawa...]"

It takes [B/N] five minutes to say bye to everyone. And then both of you left the house.

BSD cast will wait for the next time your brother come to visit them. He is so well-behaved and cute.

They will be happy to see him again. And see you taking care of him again.

_________

¹ "Bungou Stray Dogs. Wan!" Chapter 47 "The Land of Fairy Tales". Akutagawa was a hedgehog plushie and Chuuya was a weasle plushie.

² A fairytale for adults by Alexander Pushkin.

[junglejim4322]

This isn’t really the same thing but sometimes I feel really mad whenever I’m around one of my friends when he complains about his problems like his mom dying a few years ago. I’ve also lost a parent so it makes me feel extra shitty to feel this way but the thing that really gets me is that he acts like he’s the most uniquely suffering person because he’s lost a parent. His family is also rich and he actually inherited like half a million from her dying (as unfortunate as it is). My dad died when I was 12 and he left me literally NOTHING. I didn’t even get to go to his funeral bc of dogshit circumstances I don’t want to go into. Yet he acts like I don’t get it bc my dad didn’t slowly die from cancer (even though I watched one of my other relatives die from it). I hate ppl from well off families so much bc it’s like even when they have genuinely suffered they still weaponize it somehow.

Okay being completely honest there’s a massive misconception that people who’ve experienced grief have a higher enlightened understanding and will bring you some sort of sage wisdom if you come to them with your own experience and sometimes (not always clearly but sometimes) it cannot be farther from the truth. Particularly people who’ve known people who died really horrible ways or really young or both. I personally have this problem often because 1. I am emotionally stunted to some extent from some of the things I’ve experienced and I have very little insight outside of experiences nearly identical to mine and 2. in my head all I can think about is the differences in how much more “fortunate” someone else has had it like how many more years they got with someone and how much less horrible or sudden their death was or what they have left related to them etc. it feels bad and I have felt guilty in the past but I’ve learned over the years how complex grief is and you really cannot predict how anyone will react to it, I think a lot of people who have experienced a huge and/or particularly horrific loss will notice you lose friends (especially mutual friends) and have people you cannot get along with or be around without fighting for a long time or potentially forever. There’s just incompatible reactions to grief along with the fact it can genuinely make you lose your mind and getting angry or annoyed at someone because their situation seems more fortunate than yours and life hasn’t been fair to you is completely normal honestly I think the best course of action is to be honest to yourself and others and distance yourself from being in situations or conversations that will get under your skin. I think it’s fine honestly to say hey I really don’t have advice here I don’t have insight I’m sorry. Especially if you feel he’s talking down to you or has asserted his situation is “worse” or something. As well as the fact that if he thinks you don’t get it then why is he even coming to you about it. Anyway peace and love to you I think these feelings are normal a lot of people just don’t admit to it

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

So here I am, unable to sleep again, because of the horrifying attack on Israel.

The stories keep coming out and for every new detail I find out, another part of my soul shatters.

[***massive trigger warning for the rest***]

I feel like I'm living in a parallel world to everyone who is not affected by this situation. It's been surreal to go about my work day and regular life as if the images of blood-soaked cradles, burned corpses, raped and wounded women, captives of all ages being taken away on vehicles, video of a small child being taunted for crying for his mother, body bags lined up in rows on the ground, torched cars and homes, and the raw grief of the surviving family members aren't burned onto the backs of my eyelids.

One account I read from a family member of the deceased was that she was beaten, raped in multiple ways and sticks shoved into each place, and left for dead. Another I came across spoke of a small child being forced to watch his parents tortured, killed, and hacked apart. Still another I saw was a report of several children bludgeoned to death so as not to "waste the bullets."

How can I possibly begin to process this?

These people look just like the people in my communities and the friends I've made across the sea. They have my Hebrew teacher's hair, my rabbi's cheekbones, they sound like the shinshinim kids we have each year. They look like the baby nephews of my fellow congregants. I could have davened next to any of them and never known. It is only sheer dumb luck that I don't personally know someone who has died or lost close family.

There has been a pit of dread in my stomach since Shimini Atzeret that will not go away. I find myself on the verge of tears at all times, yet have not been able to actually cry (which is not a good sign; an inability to express sadness in tears is a known post-trauma response for me) and I cannot rest normally. Sometimes I can distract myself for a bit, but the pain and grief rush back in immediately when I remember.

I can feel, in real time, this Jewish cultural trauma sinking into my bones.

And you might think I might be able to separate myself from it since I'm not there and don't have family there. But I can't, because I don't want to. I can't, because some tether bound me forever to the land as soon as my feet hit the ground there, and some part of my soul stayed behind when I left. I don't want to, because these are my people and so they are my adoptive family, even if I do not know them. I am my brother's keeper.

And so here I stand, half a world away from the danger, nervous and scared and grieving, searching our perfectly blue sky for signs of missiles that are not falling here and being startled constantly by the normal and unbroken landscape. The lush beauty of Midwestern autumn woods is juxtaposed in my mind with Middle Eastern walls painted in the blood of my people and their broken bodies beneath them. I see it in the waking light of day as clear as anything in front of me, and walk around like a person divided, in both places at once yet not being fully present in either. I cannot unsee it.

How can I possibly explain this? To myself? To the people actually having to live this nightmare? To the other people removed from the immediate physical danger but who do have blood relatives and/or other family there that they're just praying stay safe and come home at the end of the day? That they are constantly checking their phones for updates or even minimal signs that they're still alive?

The words fail me, but I the closest thing I have to an answer is love. I love my people and I would rather absorb this pain with them and carry it in my soul forever than look away from Jewish suffering. That is a promise I made by joining this people, that my fate would forever be bound up in the collective fate of klal Yisrael. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people, and your G-d my G-d. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus and more may Hashem do to me if anything but death parts me from you.

אַל־תִּפְגְּעִי־בִ֔י לְעׇזְבֵ֖ךְ לָשׁ֣וּב מֵאַחֲרָ֑יִךְ כִּ֠י אֶל־אֲשֶׁ֨ר תֵּלְכִ֜י אֵלֵ֗ךְ וּבַאֲשֶׁ֤ר תָּלִ֙ינִי֙ אָלִ֔ין עַמֵּ֣ךְ עַמִּ֔י וֵאלֹהַ֖יִךְ אֱלֹהָֽי׃ בַּאֲשֶׁ֤ר תָּמ֙וּתִי֙ אָמ֔וּת וְשָׁ֖ם אֶקָּבֵ֑ר כֹּה֩ יַעֲשֶׂ֨ה יְהֹוָ֥ה לִי֙ וְכֹ֣ה יוֹסִ֔יף כִּ֣י הַמָּ֔וֶת יַפְרִ֖יד בֵּינִ֥י וּבֵינֵֽךְ׃

[רות א]

I do not take that lightly, and I feel it in my bones. Some core part of me shattered at the same time as the rest of my community.

I cannot, and I will not look away. I will not close my heart or shield myself from this tragedy. And I will not forget.

עַ֥ל נַהֲר֨וֹת ׀ בָּבֶ֗ל שָׁ֣ם יָ֭שַׁבְנוּ גַּם־בָּכִ֑ינוּ בְּ֝זׇכְרֵ֗נוּ אֶת־צִיּֽוֹן׃ עַֽל־עֲרָבִ֥ים בְּתוֹכָ֑הּ תָּ֝לִ֗ינוּ כִּנֹּרוֹתֵֽינוּ׃ כִּ֤י שָׁ֨ם שְֽׁאֵל֪וּנוּ שׁוֹבֵ֡ינוּ דִּבְרֵי־שִׁ֭יר וְתוֹלָלֵ֣ינוּ שִׂמְחָ֑ה שִׁ֥ירוּ לָ֝֗נוּ מִשִּׁ֥יר צִיּֽוֹן׃ אֵ֗יךְ נָשִׁ֥יר אֶת־שִׁיר־יְהֹוָ֑ה עַ֝֗ל אַדְמַ֥ת נֵכָֽר׃ אִֽם־אֶשְׁכָּחֵ֥ךְ יְֽרוּשָׁלָ֗͏ִם תִּשְׁכַּ֥ח יְמִינִֽי׃ תִּדְבַּֽק־לְשׁוֹנִ֨י ׀ לְחִכִּי֮ אִם־לֹ֢א אֶ֫זְכְּרֵ֥כִי אִם־לֹ֣א אַ֭עֲלֶה אֶת־יְרוּשָׁלַ֑͏ִם עַ֝֗ל רֹ֣אשׁ שִׂמְחָתִֽי׃

[תהלים קלז]

[senseearly]

I tried drawing young mithrun but ended up with an attempt for a kbms lovechild so uh:

MYRTLE (84)

Half-elf/born in Melini

Assigned female at birth/non-binary

Grew in tallman pace until they suddenly stopped growing at 20 years old

Currently working for their uncle (Kerensil Trading Company) in Melini but wants to be an adventurer

Close with their parents as a child but developed a strained relationship with Mithrun and Mithrun's struggles with rying and finding desires (worsened when Kabru died but they're both all good now)

More stuff under the cut:

Myrtle was actually an 'accident' and Mithrun carried them for 4 years (someone shared a HC that elves have a gestation period of 4-5 years so I'm borrowing that lol)

Myrtle spent most of their childhood in the Golden Kingdom and was visited by his uncle (Mithrun's brother) and Milsilril (who they call Auntie but at one point called her 'Grandma'). They are more familiar with Tallman/Golden Kingdom and Utayan culture, but not acquainted with their elven roots (they actually find Western elves intimidating)

Kabru did his very best sharing what he remembers of his hometown; Mithrun had assimilated into the Golden Kingdom way of life at this point and found some (most) of his elven noble ways too cumbersome

Myrtle was a kind child who grew up doted and loved by his parents and relatives. And they love their family with the same ferocity. But growing up, Myrtle was quickly made aware that his father, Mithrun, was 'not normal' - in most days, he was okay; in others, he struggled to get out of bed. In rare days, Mithrun was completely catatonic, and seeing Mithrun unresponsive, staring at the distance, scared Myrtle so much that he became somewhat of a troublemaker child, so that Mithrun always has to act and respond and not have anytime to be lost in his thoughts.

At some point, Myrtle 'disliked' Mithrun for the way that he is, not understanding his situation at all. Myrtle thinks that Mithrun does not love them enough to be better, feels ashamed that they cannot do anything to help Mithrun be better. But Myrtle's feelings on Mithrun comes from a place of love and ignorance - love because they do genuinely love their Father; and ignorance because they were never told why Mithrun was like that (Myrtle heard of what the dungeons were, but Kabru nor Mithrun never bothered to tell of the demon, Mithrun being the dungeon lord, or the full extent of the destruction of Utaya)

Once Myrtle became aware of their parent's pasts, they understood them a lot better.

Also thinking that a point of friction that Myrtle had with his parents was their dream of becoming an adventurer and fighting monsters (which were still rampant, though weaker) and Kabru insisting that they choose any other dream but that. Myrtle in their teenage years found Kabru too strict, too protective, not that Mithrun wasn't. But Mithrun at least was willing to teach them how to fight; Kabru made it clear Myrtle was not allowed near even a walking mushroom. Learning that Kabru was from Utaya, and what exactly happened in Utaya, made Myrtle understand why.

Eventually though Kabru concedes, knowing that Myrtle is much more capable, and surrounded by their own friends and comrades who will support them. I think in the last years of his life, Kabru made sure to prepare everything that will help Myrtle in his adventuring journey if they chose to embark once he is gone - such as speaking with guilds all over the content, ensuring a diplomatic immunity for Myrtle when they're in ally countries, writing an annotated adventure guide just for them, etc.

They work as a Vice-Manager of the Kerensil Trading Company (Mithrun's brother's merchant empire), but that's just a gloried name for the position of intern. Mithrun technically manages the Kerensil Trading Company branch in Melini, and is being pestered by Mithrun's brother to take over the main branch so that Mithrun will move back to the West. Mithrun is unmoved so Mithrun's brother has plans to declare Myrtle as 'heir' of the Kerensil merchant empire, all for the purpose of having his brother and niece move to the West (Mithrun's brother does not see the point of Mithrun and Myrtle staying at the Golden Kingdom any longer after Kabru's death)

(The beauty mark next to Myrtle's right eye is something that they got from Kabru's mother)

[sineala]

What are your thoughts on the run that completely rewrote Tony’s origin so that he wasn’t Howard and Maria’s biological son? Is that still the current origin story they’re going with?

Thanks for asking! This is still Tony's current origin story and I hate it. I think it was poorly thought-out and that every subsequent thing Marvel has done to attempt to address it has somehow made it worse. I think they've managed to tell an incredibly upsetting and unpleasant story, portraying adoption in an extremely negative light, that has pretty much only made life worse for Tony and not even in a way that's narratively interesting.

I have some salt about this, yes.

I'm not against adoption retcons in general, and I'm not against retconning character backgrounds. I get the impression it was unpopular but I really liked the retcon of Carol's background a couple years ago in the Life of Captain Marvel miniseries by Margaret Stohl -- instead of her being a human given powers by the Psyche-Magnitron, she was revealed to have been secretly half-Kree, and the device merely catalyzed her latent powers. Her mother was secretly Kree and Carol never knew. The miniseries actually had a really nice scene of her and Tony talking about families, because understandably Carol (also now Car-Ell because, yes, she has a Kree name) now had a lot of complicated feelings. Kelly Thompson's Captain Marvel run continued to explore the implications of this, as Carol found out that she actually had Kree relatives. So Carol's got a new half-sister, Lauri-Ell, and they were immediately thrown into a situation where Carol had to defend her and believe in her and it was great and also now they're friends. Well, family. Friendly family. I think Lauri-Ell was probably the best thing about Thompson's Captain Marvel run and I'm honestly really glad Marvel went there.

Tony didn't get anything like that.

As far as I know, the way Kieron Gillen approached his Iron Man run was by not doing the reading and then completely winging it. And while winging it isn't inherently bad, it did mean that not only did he not know where he was going, he didn't know what had come before. That, combined with the fact that a lot of comics writers want to "make their mark" on a famous character meant that he was probably wanting to go for something big. Hence, adoption. Which, again, isn't inherently a bad idea; it can definitely give characters a lot to explore. It's a little odd as a choice for Tony who as far as we know is Howard and Maria's biological son in every other universe in the multiverse; there's no motivation given for why 616 should be different, and off the top of my head I can't name any other characters who only differ cross-universe in adoption status, although now that I think about it I bet there are probably some universes where other people raised Peter Parker.

Also "Arno" is a really odd name choice for Tony's brother. I get that Gillen was pulling the name of a future relative from the original Iron Man 2020 issues, which if you're gonna read one thing is a deeply weird thing to pick. I remember people asking him why he didn't name Tony's brother Greg. Ultimates is a universe where Tony in fact has a brother named Greg. That would have at least made some sort of multiversal sense. Apparently Gillen just… hadn't known Greg existed. Great.

Okay. So you're gonna tell a story about adoption. You're going to reveal that a beloved character has been secretly adopted all along and no one knew. What are you going to get out of it? What are you going to accomplish? Here are some possible choices. You could tell a story that's inspirational and representational to fans who are themselves adopted or have adopted children, because now their hero is just like them. You could tell a story about how Howard and Maria adopting Tony meant he was very much loved and wanted, because they consciously chose him and made him a part of their family. You could tell a story about how Tony, who has been an orphan for a very long time, has suddenly discovered that he has living family -- a brother, as well as his biological parents. You'd be giving him more people in his story, more people who could care about him, and I think you could tell a lot of interesting stories about Tony's new family dynamics. He could have had family who loved him, or at least hung around to interact with him -- Tony's only other relative we've ever seen, his cousin Morgan, hasn't been in an Iron Man comic in years, and also usually tries to kill him. But they could have taken this opportunity to make some changes. Imagine! Tony with a bigger family! Who cares about him.

That's not what Marvel did.

The reason Howard and Maria adopted Tony was that they needed a decoy son who was not their biological son (Arno) so that the alien who had genetically modified Arno wouldn't realize that Howard had undone his work. So that's why they adopted Tony. It wasn't because they wanted him specifically, loved him, wanted to give him a family, any of that -- they just needed a decoy. And in that light, the fact that Howard didn't love Tony looks even worse. Now it's not just "I never loved you," it's "I never loved you and I only ever wanted you to fulfill this weird plan I had going with an alien." Now you're telling the story "of course I never loved you, Tony; you're adopted." (And then he tries to sell Tony to Dracula.)

And that's… not a great look. Sure, not all stories have to be positive, but superheroes usually have some kind of relatable backstory, and it's easy for people to want to relate to them, and I feel like maybe you want to think a little harder before writing Tony as adopted when his childhood was already terrible and his family hated him. It could have been a really nice story about families of choice and how much Tony's adoptive family loved and wanted Tony. And it wasn't. Because Howard had been established for years as having been abusive. A story about a toxic adoptive family is not really great representation. "I never loved you" was pretty bad but "you're adopted and I never loved you," I think, sounds a lot worse.

You do also lose some plot elements by retconning Tony as adopted, namely anything having to do with him having a genetic relationship to Howard and Maria. And for the most part this isn't going to be relevant, but now you can't really easily tell a story about Tony inheriting alcoholism or general addiction or depression or whatever from his father. (I mean, you still can if you really want to; you'd just have to establish this as being true of his biological parents. But Marvel has not done that and does not really seem all that likely to start, because that would require putting them in comics and they're not doing that anymore.)

After Kieron Gillen left the book, Bendis came on. And I know Bendis' kids are adopted so I can understand why he'd want to tackle the adoption plot and really flesh out Tony's family. So a large portion of Bendis' IM run was about Tony's quest for, and eventual discovery of, his biological family. At the time, I figured this might actually be a good plot -- if they're not going to retcon out the adoption, they might as well lean in. I was looking forward to having Tony meet his family. The guy could definitely use more family, and I thought it would be great to see him interacting with them and developing new relationships.

That also didn't happen.

So what about all his new family members? His adoptive brother Arno? His biological mother and father?

Well, actually, they hate him too. All of them!

Arno went evil, is currently evil, tried to take down Tony, and is now trapped in VR or something. (To be fair, this wasn't Bendis' fault; Dan Slott did this in the subsequent run.)

Jude, Tony's biological father, is a Hydra agent who tried to kill Tony's mother. He met Tony once. He also tried to kill him. (This one was Bendis' fault.)

Amanda, Tony's biological mother, is a rock star and SHIELD agent who decided that now that Tony was living in a constructed, non-original body… he was no longer her son. And she wanted nothing else to do with him. She hasn't been back; yes, this was also Dan Slott's work. This is both cruel and bizarre because this is definitely not Tony's first brand-new body. If he's going to be dead to her because this isn't his original body, then he's been dead since at least Onslaught. If this was going to be a problem for her, it should already have been a problem as soon as she met him.

(That was one of the big issues for me with Slott's entire run in that a lot of it was about Tony having a crisis that he maybe wasn't really Tony because he had a new body. I was just like, dude, where have you been? Why is this only a problem now?)

So now Tony, who was already abused by his adoptive father, has discovered three new members of his family, all of whom also hate him!

Anyway, basically the only family Tony had who loved him was Maria. At least he had her, I guess.

So what's the point, really? He has more people to hate him. If you're going to give him new family, couldn't you give him one person who at least likes him? Carol has a retconned half-sister now, who loves her. Why couldn't Tony have something like that?

It's not even interesting pain, for Tony. This isn't anything different than what he already had. It just involves more characters now. They had the chance to use the adoption arc to really transform Tony's life and give him a whole new family to interact with and tell a story about choice and family and being loved and wanted. Instead, he has three new family members who hate him and who probably won't be appearing again anytime soon anyway. What did this even accomplish? What do we get? A story about how, once again, none of Tony's family loves him, that even more of them exist and they hate him too, that his adoptive family abused him, that's probably going to make adopted kids reading these comics feel pretty bad. I don't think this is really an accomplishment.

In conclusion… uh… this is me complaining about the adoption retcon to @blossomsinthemist while I was trying to figure out how to write this post:

Sineala: they never loved him but now they REALLY never loved him and also here's his biological family who never loved him either Sineala: i mean, i'm not opposed to giving tony more family but maybe they could… not hate him Sineala: i feel like tony should marry into a large and affectionate family Sineala: …actually, this is basically the avengers Sineala: never mind, he already did Sineala: if you don't have your own loving family, store-bought is fine

So, yeah. That's where I stand.

[scaly-freaks]

If you had to write a sequel after TGOWARL with amaras son as the main character, how would you go on abt it? Who would be his love interest, how would his relationship with his parents look like, would you even keep amara and aegon alive or would you do something tragic abt them, and most importantly: WOULD HE BE A HOT VAMPIRE?!

Took me an embarrassing few seconds to figure out what TGOWARL was *-*

Tbh I wouldn't write a sequel as it would basically be an OC novel so I just don't feel the point of writing that in the ASOIAF verse. Not against discussing it though.

But also hmmmm...so in Burning Jasmine, Valerion was one of the most batshit Targaryens possible. The only way he could be more batshit in this version is if he was preying on his own sister, which Jaehaerys already will grow up to do. There are plot points I can't betray currently, so the relationship with his parents can't be fully unfurled, however, he isn't Aegon's favourite by any means, I will say that. He reminds Aegon of Aemond, but he also comes off more "Uller" than Targaryen because of the black hair (which does have a white mallen streak).

Amara's parental situation..........is not as perfect as it seems, which will be explored in the next chapter, and it's kind of the reason why she herself isn't the best parent in this fic as compared to Burning Jasmine. She gets overwhelmed easily, or becomes "friends" with her kids which isn't the correct way to discipline them. Aegon on the other hand is always the disciplinarian and not a friend, but only because he wants to exert control over his children the way he knows Viserys didn't over him (he probably fears children like himself to rebel against him).

Aegon's parenting throws everything more into imbalance than Amara's though, because she at least tries to give them all love equally even when depression hits and she just wants to pretend she doesn't have kids and retreats into herself (parenting is a 24/7 job and not everyone is ready for it).

But Aegon favours Jaehaera heavily. The topic of spousification of a child is a difficult one, but it happens all the time. And I think if Amara died or just withdrew emotionally from Aegon, he would spousify Jaehaera (who will grow up to have mental health/behavioural issues of her own which can get very violent, but with her dad, she's always sweet). Theres quite a fair bit of Electra complex with Jaehaera when she's in her teenage years, so it's something that travels both ways and gets unhealthy, especially when their attachment as father-daughter starts to alienate his sons (especially Jaehaerys, who only ever had Aegon once his mother died).

Jaehaerys's obsession with Jaehaera stems from the basic element of she has everything I want, she is everything I want. She has Amara who is his pseudo-mother figure, she has Aegon who is his father, she has the love of everyone who sees her because she's the Targaryen princess who was legitimised and hatched her egg before she was even born. Half of it is Jaehaerys wanting to cut off her skin and wear it, and the other half is obviously sexual/emotional/mental (I need you to need me so I can convince myself I'm worth something - but if you don't do it the way I want, I hurt you).

Compared to his two older siblings, Valerion is relatively ignored. Which obviously mean he develops a personality all by himself, explores the world himself, learns how to regulate his emotions on his own. In that sense he's sort of like Aegon aka visiting brothels young because a friend suggested it. Hanging out with a group outside his family all the time and learning how to be a man from them (with disastrous results). He would also go for the biggest dragon over keeping the egg he was given as a babe (which would never hatch). He probably wouldn't want Vermithor for this personal belief that because the dragon hasn't seen heavy war, he's "useless." He'd want a dragon like Cannibal, simply because he enjoys the thought of the beast hunting out his siblings' mounts for sport. He's sadistic to a fault, and if he ever became king, he'd make Maegor look like a fun time in the park.

p.s. I don't understand the vampire question 😭

[affinitystoryblog]

🐾 or ✏️ for the oc questions! :) either is fine I just like hearing about oc’s pets and side characters!

🐾 - Pets

so technically three of our main and/or main supporting have pets!

agitha has princess pootie, whom she's had since she was a sophomore in high school.

csilla has her cat rosemary, whom she's had since she was 11 and csilla is suuuper attached to her. thats her best buddy, her lil girl, her other half so to speak. she rly does see her cat as a soul mate

heather has her big ol dog Musa, who is still pretty young, her family adopted him her junior year. but he's a big ol teddy bear. she'll often take him out for her morning jog after breakfast. in the winter time, since heather usually rises by 5 to 6 am every day (definitely a morning person) she and musa will watch the sunrise after their run

and then the last one is a little different than just a pet for her, but urania and miko! she doesnt rly see him as a pet companion, but more of a friend. not to undermine any of the relationships my other girls have with their companions, esepcially csilla and aggie, but urania's bond with miko is one of equal ground. he is just as valuable and integral to everyone in the group as the rest of them.

✏️ - Classmates

so! i dont have a lot of classmates outside of our main cast designed or thought of too much yet, i definitely need a filler chapter after all the back to back plot stuff for 5 chapters. but i havent even finished chapter 5 yet so...(theres a lot of deep story lore stuff i have to work out before i can rly continue with the current plot because so much is gonna have to be interweaved...but im rambling)

so i do have the student council, which i have talked about before. agitha and csilla are also on the student council, but csilla is new

so in the student council, which are agitha's active friend group (excluding dimitri since he is a freshman newly recruited to the student council but he does fit his way in)

Dimitri - daren't genius little brother! he's very arrogant, but tbh he can back it up. big ego by beyonce definitely. and tbh, agitha does not help because she's also pretty arrogant but knows when to humble herself relatively well in certain situations.

Yumi - the baby of the group, she's very intelligent at the top of her class and she is a prodigy pianist. she has scholarships going for her by the mile. sweet girl, yet a little prissy. girls girl kinda vibe, she and james are constantly bickering. lowkey i kinda ship her and alex for no reason in particular...but i want them to have a sort of unspoken exclusiveness with each other...theyre not pursuing each other, but if they were to be with anyone else??? thatd be a betrayal because they are definitely Talking. ill get more into that in alex's bio

Alex - sarcastic and snarky, mouth of a sailor, yet excels in all of her classes and has a the mindset of "if i go out, just know im going out talking shit." her and james are also bickering...basically james is bickering with everyone he's kind of a bitch lol. anyway, she's also got this very "cool" vibe about her, lots of girls in the school like her.

James - he is sassy, prissy, posh, arrogant, and just generally a pain in the ass. but also he is willing to stand up for you if you can't speak for yourself, he likes to tease and gossip with his friends, he is willing to give you the shirt off his back if he sees you have nothing. he may be say a snide feisty comment about how of course you wouldnt have made it if i hadn't come along, but its all out of pride. he is a genius in his own right, good at sports, and comes from a wealthy family.

there were some other side characters i started thinking about for daren and sinie's art club, but i only ended up designing two characters before i kinda left this one by the wayside

SO SIDENOTE: rea's name is actually supposed to be Rae but im fucking illiterate.

Rae - a very good artist for her age, she has a good concept of color theory and anatomy and her concepts are so creative and unique. she is, however, very humble, sweet, and such a positive beam of sunshine. she and sinie get along very well.

Emerald - so, im ngl i dont remember what my inital idea was for her, but based on her posture she was maybe some sort of classy black girl magic kinda girl...if i were to build on this character i would say she is very girly pop, feminist, and specializes in pop art.

oc background relationship asks

[bbfeelings]

My contribution to the first day of Kazuki Week 2023: grief/acceptance. Sorry double posting, but I figure it's more accessible to post the entire fic here on Tumblr. You can also read it on AO3.

Title inspired by this song. And for your vibe considerations.

Your Mess Is Mine

QPR or mlm KazuRei. Post-finale, Pre-Time Skip. Family fluff.

Summary: Kazuki, Rei, and Miri attend Karin's wedding in France. Before this, Kazuki and Rei's relationship was largely undefined because they were both fine with whatever that is going on.

────

When Karin flashed her engagement ring over video chat a year ago, Kazuki didn’t imagine he’d be in the French countryside, walking her down the aisle, with Miri tossing petals just steps before them. Karin clung to “Kazu-nii” all those years ago; and just now, she hooked her arm around his again.

Yuzuko’s death once separated them. Parentless and raised by her elder sister, young Karin went to live with a distant relative up north, while Kazuki remained in Tokyo. He believed that she resented him for taking her only family away. Then they reconnected again, and she fitted right into his newfound family. Miri and Karin adore each other, and Rei warmed up to her quickly, too.

Kazuki feels the tears well up. Don’t cry, don’t cry, they’re taking photos. He looks at her; Karin is beautiful in the gown she designed herself. She looks right back at him, the way she squints when she smiles, the same quirk Yuzuko had. I’m walking her down the aisle, Yuzu. Can you believe it? He presses his lips together, but a blink lets the droplets fall.

“Aw, come on, you’re such a cryer,” Karin says, with a smile so dazzling that he almost misses her misty eyes. “You’re gonna make me cry, too.” The two giggles at how silly they look trying to fight back tears.

────

After retiring from their previous careers and moving out of the city to a seaside town, Kazuki and Rei (mostly Kazuki, really) made local friends and were invited to weddings a couple of times. But this particular wedding is unlike anything they’ve experienced. For starters, the celebration is hosted at a chateau—or what Miri excitedly called a castle. Karin’s husband is an award-winning chef specializing in Japanese-French cuisine, so the food is bound to be exquisite. Not to mention, French weddings are an all-day affair, as they’ve been warned that dinner will be served at 9 pm, and the party after will last till dawn.

As her first trip outside of Japan, or perhaps just as a 9-year-old, Miri is having the time of her life. “We’re staying at a castle!” Their room is furnished with one king-sized bed. Kazuki and Rei looked at each other and shrugged.

In the four and a half years they’ve left their old lives behind, the family of three had had a few living situations. After the loft apartment, they moved into an old unit with a tatami floor in the only bedroom. Much to young Miri’s delight, the three of them slept together for an entire year.

It wasn’t an easy year; stuck in a shoe box, between assimilating into civilian life, parenthood, and Rei’s disability, Kazuki and Rei had disagreements. Many. Never fighting in front of Miri was the one thing they could agree on from the start.

But it was also that year when they grew much closer. The reality forced them to communicate, and to face issues head on. Ultimately, Kazuki and Rei wanted the same thing: a safe, happy childhood for Miri. Every time they fought, it was to protect that vision. In that same year, they began to truly mold and fit into each other, consciously or unconsciously. From Kazuki walking on Rei’s right side, Rei’s ability to maneuver in the kitchen alongside Kazuki, to the way they sleep in the futons on tatami.

────

The day of the wedding, Kazuki stood before the armoire; a black suit for him, a navy suit for Rei, and a satin and tulle dress Karin had made for Miri in a shade of sage green that flatters her eyes and hair. She’d even hand sewed her name, in cursive, on the inside of the dress.

“Reminds me of the night before her first day at daycare,” Kazuki said in a tone reminiscent of something like nostalgia.

“A much better job than we’ll ever do,” Rei took a glance then chuckled.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Kazuki zipped up the dress then fluffed up the wrinkled tulle skirt. Miri twirled excitedly. “Can I go? Can I go?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Don’t run too far, be back here in 10 minutes, okay?” She nodded then disappeared behind the door. By the sound of her heels, she was skipping down the hall.

Kazuki combed and tied Rei’s hair into a sleek low ponytail. Rei had kept it at mid length, after discovering his strands form loose waves with the right haircut, instead of a puffy, frizzy mess. Though Kazuki never called it a mess; he’d say it was fluffy while ruffling through it.

“I can do it myself,” Rei said. Kazuki fastened the necktie just right, then smoothed down the collar. “I know. But I like doing it.”

“Hmm.”

────

After the ceremony, it’s the cocktail hours. When the blonde man finally returns with a plate of hors d'oeuvre and two flutes, Rei snares. “Done harassing your brother-in-law?”

“This is the time! A real, living Michelin star chef. I had to.”

“So what did you steal from him.” Rei takes a sip as he watches Miri playing with other children across the room.

“He said we should try using baguette instead of milk bread for French toast.”

“We could test with baguette on the next day off. What else?”

“Something about olive oil… I’m not sure. His Japanese isn’t fluent. And a lot of the food terms were in French,” Kazuki pauses to enjoy the finger food. “You have to try this.”

Rei studies the little piece of toast with various toppings, “Nah. It has olives.”

Kazuki picks out the olive, eats it, then offers Rei again by shoving it directly in front of his face. Rei reluctantly eats off Kazuki’s hand.

“Not bad.”

“Right?”

────

The dinner was a feast. Multi-course, modern Japanese-French cuisine with wine pairings. Rei swears that Kazuki was nearly brought to tears, again. “The miso? The miso in the sauce? Brilliant. Gosh. I wish I was Karin.” Kazuki gushes.

“Don’t even think about stealing my husband, Kazuki,” the tipsy bride waltzes over with a wine glass in hand. Her pretend stern face turns into giggles as soon as she sees Rei. “I don’t think Rei-kun would be happy with that either!”

“Why wouldn’t I be—“

Karin shushes him. “Stop it. Stop. It flew right over you again and I’m not explaining.” Rei closes his gaping mouth in confusion.

“Go get Miri! I’m doing the bouquet toss in a bit!” The giddy bride says before hopping away towards the groom, who waits to take her hand with the fondest look on his face.

“What was that?” Rei asks. Kazuki puts a hand on his back and shakes his head.

“Figured.”

────

Kazuki and Miri wait with a group of women who are participating in the bouquet toss.

“This is so fun,” She says as she yawns. Too much fun, perhaps. It is getting late. “When you and Rei-papa get married, can I be a flower girl again?” She looks up at Kazuki and asks nonchalantly.

“Eh? Why—“

“Kazuki! Get outta there! You’re not getting this bouquet!” Karin shouts and swings her arm dramatically. Her cheeks are flushed and her steps are slightly unsteady. She looks so happy.

“My bad, my bad…” Kazuki holds up his hands as he moves out of the way. The guests laugh at their sibling banter.

The excited crowd gathers. This is where the real fun of the night begins. Karin turns around and does a couple of swings before her toss; the guests watch attentively in anticipation.

“Three… two… one!” The bride jumps and hurls backward, sending the bouquet across the ballroom. In front of the group, Miri realizes the bundle of flowers isn’t coming their way. It’s going completely sideways, towards the wine table. Everyone’s eyes follow the flying bouquet.

Rei flexes his left arm and catches it backhandedly. He turns around, prosecco in one hand, flowers in the other, utterly flabbergasted. The guests go wild; several women swarm him. That man wasn’t even looking!

Miri weaves through the traffic, throws herself at Rei, and squeals. “That was so cool!” She beams and hugs his waist tightly. “My papas are getting married!”

“Eh? What do you mean—“

“Congratulations!” The guests cheer, making him even more flustered. What is Miri saying? He scans the crowd in a panic, but couldn’t find a single familiar face.

Then he sees it. Strawberry blonde, a pair of bright, tea-brown eyes, and a crooked grin. Kazuki swims through the crowd and makes it to Rei and Miri.

“Rei-papa and Kazuki-papa are getting married!”

“Wow, haha, um, nice catch!” Kazuki says awkwardly. Damn it, my nerves! Rei doesn’t say anything, eyes wide like a deer in the headlight. “Um, you all right? Rei?”

“I saw something in the corner of my eye and… this.” He holds up the bouquet, “That wasn’t very normal people of me.” Rei mutters, ears still hot from all the attention.

Kazuki chuckles slyly, “Sure was very assassin of you.”

Rei dishes a side eye and chucks the flowers in his face.

────

They finally coaxed Miri into going to bed. The condition: she gets to hold on to the bouquet when she does. The two men step out to the garden for some fresh air. Rei takes out a brand new pack of cigarettes in French packaging.

“Haven’t seen you smoke in a while,” Kazuki commented.

“Well, it’s for the occasion.” He lights it up, takes a drag, and promptly coughs.

“Can’t handle it anymore?”

“Shut up. I just wasn’t expecting it to be this strong.”

The lively music flows out from the chateau, a stark contrast to the serene and sleepy countryside.

“…would you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sign the papers.”

“Sign what papers?”

“Gosh, Rei, do I really need to spell it out?”

“You know the answer.”

“Fine.” Kazuki sighs, wishing he’d had a drink before this. “Like, getting married or whatever. Hypothetically, of course.”

Rei takes a long drag and exhales. “I mean, you’re the one who was married.”

“That was different.”

“How so?”

Kazuki pictures the day he and Yuzuko got married at the city hall. She was in a sundress, and he was in a shirt and tie that were sold as a set. But that wasn’t really it, was it? Marriage is… what comes after. Though their marriage barely lasted, and it wasn’t their fault. Kazuki reaches his hand over, Rei passes the cigarette.

Kazuki coughs.

“Told you.”

“Yeah, thanks for the warning.” Regaining composure, Kazuki continues. “You know she died six months later.”

Rei remains silent.

“But it was easy—the decision to get married. It was just the thing to do, you know? If I could do it over, I’d marry her again. She was what I needed. At the time. I… loved her. I really did. And I still do, I think.” He pauses, looking back at the chateau. “Like how I love Karin and Miri. I’d do anything for them—I’d die in their place, if I could.”

The thought of Miri or Kazuki dying sends a chill down his spine. Rei turns his head away. “That’s grim. We’re at a wedding.”

“I know. But—and then there’s you. And I’d do the same for you, too.”

“I can handle myself.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, Kazuki? You asked me a hypothetical question and went on about… about the people you love. What’s that got to do with each other? I can’t understand you when you go roundabout like that.” Rei pauses, filling his lungs with brisk air. “I need you to tell me exactly what it is.”

Kazuki traces the outline of the man before him, then puts his arm around his slim frame. Rei leans in and rests his head on his shoulder. “We’re not fighting though, are we?”

“Of course not, dummy,” Kazuki says softly.

“Idiot.”

“Jerk.”

“…it’s warm.”

“Hmm.”

“I like you.”

“What did you just say?” Kazuki pulls away, “What are you, a teenager?”

“I didn’t like anyone when I was a teenager.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” he fixes Rei’s crooked tie, “I love you.”

Rei brings them back together and burrows his face in the strawberry blonde.

“I love you, too.”

────

The guests circle the newlyweds as they open the dance. Kazuki and Rei watch from a safe distance, sipping on drinks.

Rei finishes his dessert wine. “This is delicious, why do they serve it in such a small glass?”

“Probably because only an ant like you could drink it,” Kazuki scrunches his nose, “It’s sickly sweet.”

“No, it’s not, it has… layers.”

“I think it’s too sweet.”

“Can we stock these at the diner?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You suck,” Rei pouts, “I’m going to get more.”

10 minutes later, Rei is visibly tipsy. “I learned,” he says as he puts his hand on the small of Kazuki’s back, “these are called dessert wine.” His eyes twinkle. Oh no. Kazuki knows this look.

“Let’s go!” Rei tugs on the lapels.

“You don’t even like dancing!”

“Yeah, but, Karin says we have to.”

Kazuki glances over, Karin is in the middle of the dance floor, picking up her floor-length skirt, laughing and twirling to the poppy music. Kazuki hesitates. He can’t dance to save his life. A happy drunk Rei is mesmerized by the joy spilling over from the dance floor.

Then the music changes. It’s a slower instrumental piece; anyone can tell that it’s a love song. The crowd slows down. Then the groom waltzes in, Karin takes his hand. Cheek to cheek, they step and sway to the rhythm. The guests pair up and follow their lead.

Rei looks at Kazuki, eyes twinkling. He gives in. Then Rei smiles the only way he can: a thin-lipped, strained smile. But Kazuki knows better than anyone else. This is Rei’s happy face. He takes his left hand, and he places his right on his heart. He pulls him in with an arm around the waist.

“Is your arm okay like that?” Kazuki asks, in a voice only Rei can hear. Rei hums. They move with the music; knowing nothing about dancing, they just follow their instincts. Rei puts his head down on Kazuki’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“Hmm.”

────

Daylight breaks into the ballroom, the partied-out guests sit around, nibbling hot onion soup.

Rei’s glossy, wavy, raven-colored hair is down, draping over his shoulders. Kazuki’s shirt is stained with wine. Their ties are missing. The two huddle together, eating soup.

“If it’s possible, it’d be nice.”

“What?”

“To get married. To you.”

“I see.”

“Tsk. That’s it?”

“You want me to propose now?”

“Maybe.”

“Then I propose to—add French onion soup to the menu.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s delicious.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Hmm.”

“To get married. If it’s possible. That is.”

“Okay. What about dessert wine?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Kazuki warps Rei into his arms and rests his chin on his left shoulder. Their cheeks touch; slightly sticky with sweat, wine, and maybe a little bit of happy tears.

[ The End ]

Thank you for reading! Fun fact: the baguette French toast is a secret menu at this little cafe run by a French couple near where I used to live. The best French toast hands down. I want to thank the anon who sent in the lovely idea of a KazuRei story at Karin’s wedding.

Check out my other Buddy Daddies fics in the pinned post, if you'd like!

[saintavangeline]

from the same girl that is struggling with leaving her own abusive relationship,

how did your abuser react when you finally left? (if you’re comfortable sharing this) 💜

Absolutely enraged. When I got home to speak to them, they told me to make it quick because they had a hookup with a coworker planned (within the two hours I had broken up with them…), and then they chewed me out for about an hour and a half, insulted everything about me, said I never actually loved them, lied and said their friends and family never actually liked me and thought I was a mean, high maintenance, manipulative bitch the whole time (which their mother later confirmed with me to be a total made up lie.. and she told me she loved me and we hugged and cried together.. I loved their mom). It was like I was suddenly completely worthless to them.

They ripped up all of my love letters and poetry and just grilled me for a long time. Accused me of SA (which is apparently a very common tactic of abusers to do) to try and scare me into speaking to anyone about anything that happened, or to stay with them out of fear. That was one of the most disgusting parts, because I’m a survivor of SA and fucking would NEVER do that to someone else. And considering I’m a pillow princess literally because of sexual trauma… it was just fucking disgusting they accused me of that.

I remember crying and I didn’t really say much back other than that I didn’t want any of this to happen and that I was still so in love with them but that I couldn’t continue to be controlled like this. They tried to get me to stay that night and insisted we hug or touch to see if we had any chemistry, which I refused to do because at that point I was terrified, and at one point they blocked my exit and berated me some more. Lots of yelling and cursing at me and telling me they were going to go have fun fucking their coworker as I sobbed leaving!

When I left the house to stay at my moms, they begged me to come back and talk and kept begging to call me and that I should come over and at least give them a hug goodbye. They then started acting really sweet and apologetic and telling me how much they missed me and my smell and touch and that they realized reality was sinking in. When they realized I wasn’t going to listen to them and come back, they were immediately cold and dismissive, and were incredibly disrespectful to my mom.

They later retracted all of their claims, including the SA lie, when I was thinking of getting back together with them two weeks later and said none of what they said I did or was, was true, and that they were just trying to hurt me and they had been projecting. However, they immediately went back on it when I finally realized they weren’t going to change and I decided to end things for the final time. All of this is documented and filed.

If you plan on confronting your abuser, please do so with caution. Apparently (and I wish I knew this before) the statistics of physical abuse are heightened when breaking up with an abusive partner, even if they’ve never been physically abusive before. I definitely noticed an increase in aggression. Please be careful.

I had my best friend there with me, downstairs with 911 on dial, and when they finally realized my friend was there, that’s when things got scary and way more aggressive. A normal person doesn’t react with screaming, degradation, and intimidation when learning someone’s friend is present during a breakup. I really urge you to have a friend or relative close by or know of the situation and your whereabouts when planning on confronting/leaving your abuser. I hope this helps.

[asimplearchivist]

𝓒𝓗. 𝓘𝓥 — [𓈐𓊪𓇋𓇋𓅱] (‘𝓱𝓻𝓹𝔂𝔀’ | 𝓼𝓾𝓫𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓭, 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷𝓮𝓭)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ khonshu is an odd duck, you come to find. pairing ☽ khonshu/singlemom!avatar!reader word count ☾ 12.1k a/n ☽ [header credit] ⤏ whew. only took two months to churn this one out. it’s a bit longer than usual to make up for it. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

While once it might have been relatively easy for you to pick up a new schedule in your younger years (as enduring nursing school necessitated rapid alterations of long shifts, forcing students to develop flexibility in times of intense stress to prepare for truly chaotic clinical environments), getting older, going through a divorce, having and raising a baby, returning from maternity leave to a full-time job, and pledging your servitude to an ancient lunar deity all just might excuse you from not adapting as well to such sheer changes of pace as you once might have. However, you couldn't fathom dealing with said situations, as they were, in any other stage nor context of your life—you'd gathered invaluable experience tolerating borderline unbearable levels of insanity in the last decade or so that had unwittingly prepared you for the near endless list of tasks you faced upon waking every day. And while your parents or your ex-husband may have assisted with babysitting much like Lizzie did (though doubtfully so on the latter’s part), their inquisitive natures and close proximity, respectively, would have inevitably resulted in them discovering the true nature of your 'second job' within days of you coming home late.

Lizzie, bless her soul, was as sharp as a tack, so you'd worried about her sniffing out that there wasn't something entirely right about your established half-truth—however, she valued privacy above nosiness, as she didn't get much time nor secrecy to herself during her childhood while growing up with three siblings in a very small home, and therefore she never pried for more information than was given to her unless she thought it to be a point of concern. You had always appreciated her candor, knowing she would not hesitate to let you know if she thought something remiss about anything relating to your general happiness and well-being, as well as her discretion by giving you ample space to breathe. It's part of what had drawn you to her in the first place upon moving overseas, meeting at a social gathering and introduced by a friend of a friend of your ex-husband’s—both her amiability and sincerity resulted in her being your unofficially designated confidant and longstanding best friend. There was virtually nothing she didn't know about you—your family history, childhood, adolescence, college, relationships...everything. You trusted her with your life, and in return she felt safe enough to impart the same level of information she'd never had an opportunity to share with anyone else. The two-way street of complete disclosure had run unparalleled and unblocked for the entire duration of your marriage to your ex-husband, and now beyond it. You didn't even consider your own family as close to you as she was, separated by both time and distance.

Therefore, to keep a secret from her, no matter how small, almost always caused you to feel physically ill—so something as noteworthy (and perhaps as foolhardy) as you sneaking around in the middle of the night planting punches in the faces of street thugs was eating you alive. Your actual whereabouts and the nature of what you were up to rarely came up, as she'd accepted your fib without question, but you feared her noticing the cold sweat that would crop up on your forehead every time she'd ask how your 'secondary shift' went, if anything interesting had happened, or about the increasingly darker semi-circles under your eyes.

It was a vigil of silence you were forced to maintain, however, as you doubted sincerely she could wrap her head around the finer details of your...ah, arrangement. She never had held a candle to anything even vaguely supernatural, despite her mother being an avid believer in tales of the fae folk (though now you wondered if even they weren't tales so much as they could merely be fractionated accounts of real events and interactions that peoples of old had misunderstood). Besides, Khonshu's existence seemed the muted sort—he only appeared to you, never even the ill-to-do ilk he pitted you against. He was your own private specter, but rather than haunting you for trespassing upon his original abode or for desecrating his resting place, he made remarks on how unintelligent your targets were at times, criticized their lack of form and training in whatever sort of blunt, sharp, or projectile-oriented weapon they utilized, and commented continuously on the constant source of perplexity the human race presented to him in general. You found it odd that he was so finitely fixated upon the idea of protecting humanity when he didn't seem to like humans themselves very much.

While Khonshu never griped about you, per se, nor anyone with whom you associated yourself, he seemed to view the general populace of earth with a plain, uncoated disdain that colored his tone whenever he spoke of your fellow man. He was never particularly venomous with his words unless speaking of those who had acted unjustly, but it still puzzled you that he seemed as adamant about humanity's faults in spite of their (admittedly few) positive traits.

Of course, even what little bit of cynicism you felt whenever you dealt with a temperamental patient, or while in the presence of a self-righteous retail client, after passing remotely near enough a news outlet to hear about the unending stream of malice demonstrated by the cruelest and most uncaring of people despite the world still trying to heal from the scarring wounds caused by the tragedy in New York City back in May, it had been frighteningly easy to slip into a similar callousness, which you had struggled with for quite some time—until Ru had made his way into the world and, subsequently, affixed himself into your life.

You could scarcely fathom the countless things Khonshu must have witnessed throughout the centuries. The wars, famines, pestilences—the innumerable dead and dying. It didn't surprise you that he could be jaded towards life and all of its fleeting, fickle graces. He had been dealt a heavy hand, to live as long as he had and forced to be a semi-passive observer—particularly over the kingdom that had risen from the Nile shores, from quarreling tribesmen to a vast, wealthy, and powerful empire all the way back down to a shackled, colonized, subjugated land. Khonshu's name and image had been uttered, inscribed, and rendered within the homes of the lowest laborers, to the palaces of the highest of kings, to the temples of priests who gave offerings, sang hymns, and recounted prayers for his favor. Nowadays, what vestiges remained of his influence were limited to what reliefs and descriptions had survived erosion from the sands of time, discussed as nothing more than myth and legend when once he had invoked hope and faith in those who called upon him. There was something inherently melancholic to that—a name echoed until it lost its meaning. It made you wonder if he missed his glory days, if he regretted the course of history that had led him to the present, wandering the dark, lonely nights while still clinging to the shadows of his former strength that he had cast against the earth.

...No, you couldn't quite muster any blame toward Khonshu if he was embittered by the current state of things. Not when you weren't entirely happy with everything, either.

Even if any of your idle speculations held merit, however, you still didn't understand why Khonshu remained steadfast in his creed. Humans sucked, yes, and did shitty stuff to other humans. If he were so disgusted with mortals (as it seemed he was), it would make more sense to leave them to their own devices, not continue to toil in the evildoings they wrought.

Your curiosity about your rather mysterious patron had only grown in the last few weeks, in part thanks to your introspection about the inexplicable contrasts of his character. He shared very little about himself personally—any history, memories, or thoughts he shared usually pertained only to the tasks he delegated to you as his avatar (mostly of the brawling variety). You resorted, eventually, to do some research on your own time, reading articles and entries either when getting a rare free moment with Ru during the day or catching up on paperwork in your cubicle at night. Many of the readily available sources contained painfully basic information that sated little of your desire to learn more about him. The more you dug, the more it seemed that there were few consistent, definitive records of him—of course, you realized the lens through which the majority of Ancient Egyptians viewed him would differ from yours as his modern avatar, with an added factor of their civilization spanning the course of over three thousand years, but part of you wished that there was more concrete information on him besides the trivia. He was so much more colorful an individual than that.

Khonshu was the god of night; of vengeance, of protection, of healing. He was an omen of doom to those who wronged others, and a warden of safety to those who had been wronged. He was the embodiment of death and life, of violence and peace, of hurting and healing; as forceful as a tempest and as calm as a breeze. Unforgiving, some had said, spiteful and grudging—others believed he was righteous, just, and nurturing. He was darkness—brooding, ominous, and silent—and he was light—unflinching, all-seeing, and stalwart. He had as many identities as the moon its phases, oscillating as steadily, as gradually, and as inevitably as the celestial body from which he manifested both his power and his identity. 

It was not a stretch to think him indifferent, caustic, and capricious—not by a long shot, based on his outward demeanor—but you felt that not many academics who drolled on about metaphorical epithets understood the most basic aspects of his role. He'd been forced to resort to outsiders' worship for the last two thousand years as the majority—Greece and Rome had absorbed and distorted the knowledge and close interactions with their celestial pantheon the Egyptians had gleaned and recorded over the course of their reign. Perhaps most viewed him with distrust and disdain based on early descriptions of him being a cannibalistic deity. But you had a gut feeling that there was a key piece of information missing, something that would bring into context every errant strand of information that didn't tie together on its own, something he had neglected to share with you. Whether it was an earth-shattering revelation that would rock the earth's perception and understanding of the Kemetic pantheon, however, or something comparatively insignificant...you hadn't the foggiest.

You couldn't find it in yourself to think of him as uncaring, however—not really. He did care, in his own strange, perhaps closeted way. And you knew that because he wouldn't spend any extra time around you—or Ru—otherwise.

His visits, while inconsistent, became increasingly common as you worked to find balance in your new schedule. During the day, you took care of Ru, went to the post office, bought groceries, and cooked supper, among other tasks you helped to conduct. In the evening, you maintained your rounds, charted for your patients, and helped the physicians when needed. During the night, you traveled rooftop to rooftop, stalking through alleyways and gliding over side streets in pursuit of the nocturnal criminals on which Khonshu sicced you. Once the throes of dawn started to tinge the furthermost horizon, Khonshu would direct you home. You would sleep through the early morning, sore and tired, but never injured. He made certain that the armor healed whatever wounds you'd incurred from your scuffles—so no one would question the bruises, you suspected. Avoiding an inexplicable topic of conversation was, likely, for the best.

And throughout the length of your day, Khonshu would occasionally appear. He didn't always initiate conversation, sometimes opting simply to observe whatever menial task you were doing with little to no commentary, but sometimes you were able to coax out a stream of thought from him that otherwise he would never have shared. You counted these instances as victories, even if they might have seemed insignificant. He was knowledgeable despite his infrequent petulance about certain subjects, brimming with stories he seemed reluctant to share. Was he uncomfortable with talking for extended periods of time? Or did he think it unusual that a mortal who'd only known of his existence for several months pressed for such casual interactions? Did he want to be revered and feared, or lauded and worshiped? He didn't seem to demand anything of you other than your service while the moon hung in the sky. Did he find it disrespectful or just too familiar?

There was so much you didn't know about him, about being an avatar, and about being his avatar that only produced more questions whenever he did deign to answer one of yours. You hoped that, over time, he would open up more—that he was popping in without an obvious reason gave you some hope that he might be seeking out your company for the sake of sharing the relative silence in the apartment.

It also became increasingly plain that he did not, in fact, know a damn thing about babies.

He is unable to speak?

"He won't really start talking until he's around six months old—and even then, he'll just be babbling,  not really forming words."

When will he start to eat real food?

"About six months, again."

Is he going to crawl on the ground forever?

"Until he's at least nine months, but not forever."

If it was some sort of undefined, implicit exchange of information—an eye for an eye, per se—he had never said so, but you didn't mind it. You doubted that, even if Khonshu'd had any children of his own (were demi-gods even a thing in Kemetic mythology like they were in the Hellenistic?), perhaps human children were entirely different, as he'd mentioned before. Of course, the myths weren't necessarily fact, as you'd learned—but he hadn't mentioned any offspring, nor any consorts. The numerous recorded translations from temples and the like never indicated any such connections either, other than his parentage and a different god whom he'd replaced.

It provoked conversation, if nothing else, and despite his prickly exterior, you found that you liked talking to him. He had vastly different points of view on the world within which you'd grown, and he offered insight into things that you'd never even noticed nor considered before. You found his cadence, tone, and vocabulary refreshing, his low rasp undeniably soothing (when he wasn’t shouting profanities in a dead language directly into your ear, anyway). Having him there, even if he stayed silent, helped to pass the time—and, incidentally, made you feel a little less alone with your thoughts despite having Ru, Lizzie, and your coworkers around you. You tended to focus on your paperwork and patients to stay on top of the time lost to emergent situations rather than gossip with the other staff members, Lizzie usually was already gone to her office whenever you got up in the morning and only had enough time to eat dinner with you upon returning home, and Ru wasn't exactly much of a conversationalist other than the times he needed food, changing, or a nap.

You kept yourself busy to mute your persistent, whirring mind whenever he wasn't there, however, feeling the need to keep up with every aspect of your life at peak efficiency after spending so much time off. Follow-up appointments with your OB/GYN and Ru's pediatrician to ensure both your and Ru's postpartum recovery continued to progress smoothly, lunch dates with Lizzie when she had particularly frustrating days and needed a break and an open ear, and maintaining the general state of the apartment (cleaning and meal planning, most notably), among other odds and ends, managed to keep you occupied.

All things considered, it wasn't entirely a surprise when failure inevitably arrived, unannounced and unwelcome, on your doorstep.

You should have known better, honestly. You'd long since learned the hard lesson of overloading your schedule back in college, after taking on too many classes in an attempt to get ahead—add in having to work part-time and trying to stay social, and it had bubbled over in the anxiety-riddled breakdown of a lifetime. You were smart enough to drop some of the classes and to cut back on obligations to your friends before your GPA had permanently suffered for it, but the mental and emotional drain had been enough to slow your progress for another year before you’d gotten your confidence back. To think that you'd become a superhero just because you were an adult was a severe miscalculation on your part.

It resulted in you oversleeping one fateful midweek morning, finally coming to with a start when Ru's wailing pierced the walls of the shadowy apartment. He was hungry, dirty, and very upset with the fact that you'd seemingly disappeared for two hours beyond your normal wake-up time. You weren't able to soothe him for another hour or so, pressing him to your chest and rocking him nonstop after changing and feeding him. Finally, after listening to your heartbeat and gentle lullabies, he stopped crying and proceeded to nap for another half-hour. You didn't dare set him down, opting to place him in a sling while going about your business. 

You were stiff all over, particularly in your back, after having wrestled with a man three times your size trying to break and enter a condominium via a fire escape. You'd ended up tumbling over the side into an open dumpster two stories down—with the man landing right on top of you. He was knocked out cold, at least. You'd placed an anonymous phone call to the police about a noise disturbance, laid out the equipment he'd been using to unlock the window as evidence, and limped a couple of blocks away to wait on a rooftop for the officers to arrest him. Whether they questioned the fact that the evidence had been arranged so plainly or that he had several cranial contusions, you didn't know—all you cared about was taking some painkillers once you got home to try to dissuade the headache he'd given you by slamming your forehead into the acid-eroded masonry.

You didn't think you had a concussion, but obviously it had rattled you more than you'd expected since you'd slept so heavily for so long.

An entire page of emails greeted you when you opened your laptop, most of them work-related, and it took entirely too long to address them, to make the phone calls associated with their subject matter, and to defer the ones impertinent to your job to your higher-ups. Two mugs of coffee later, your stomach was howling for lunch. You then proceeded to burn yourself on the stove while cooking, spilled an entire bottle of milk all over yourself and the floor, and in the process of cleaning up you accidentally scorched the food and had to start over entirely.

Ru couldn't bear to stay apart from you, either, once he reawoke. Putting him in the high chair for all of five seconds to get your thoughts together had been a mistake, as he didn't settle back down for yet another half-hour. You dreaded to think of how the evening would play out with Lizzie, prayed that maybe he'd tucker out from all the fussing and either sleep or stay sleepy enough to quieten down.

You hadn't had the chance to shower before collapsing into bed the previous night, so you were struggling to find time to get cleaned up while juggling a clingy baby, trying to keep the laundry circulated, and laying out the ingredients for supper to thaw in time.

At some point, after eating crow (and what was edible from the original meal's efforts, charred as it was) and settling down on the couch for a nap with Ru sprawled over your torso, you managed to get some more sleep. You'd opened the windows to let in some fresh air, and the lulling patter of soft rain helped to soothe your frayed nerves.

At least until the shower turned into a storm, thunder and lightning lashed terror upon the streets, and Ru became frightened thanks to his already agitated sensitivity.

By the time Lizzie got home, her umbrella, raincoat, and boots all vibrant and dripping and keeping her tailored clothes unfazed, you were holed up in your room with a barricade of pillows trying to keep the noise out. The meds weren't even touching your migraine anymore, and you couldn't stand to have any light on for too long. Ru had fallen into a restless slumber, and after your weary, teary-eyed explanation, she just about shoved you out of your own bedroom to go shower and get a few minutes to yourself before he stirred again.

Your guilt was unimaginable, and combined with your relatively unstable hormones, heightened stress, and the shame that only a newly tried mother could feel finally crested and burst. You sat in the shower and cried until you reached that familiar listless, hazy, absentminded state of serenity, and only then were you able to step back from the spiral of your thoughts, take a series of deep, steadying, and calming breaths, and allow yourself to rest under the steaming stream until your fingertips pruned.

When you emerged from the bathroom draped in the fluffiest towel in the cabinet, skin beaded with water and dampened hair bundled up on top of your head, instead of finding Lizzie and Ru in the dim, watery light rendered fuzzy through the thin curtains drawn over the window, Khonshu was perched in the middle of your bed with one ankle propped on the opposite knee, staff laid across his lap while he drummed his fingertips against his shin. The impression and recollection of the previous night's events made you wince as your head only continued to throb.

"I can't, tonight," you told him in lieu of a greeting. "I just can't. I feel like shit and I'm exhausted and after work tonight I am going to be useless."

The lunar god said nothing, merely tilted his skull and eyed you with one solitary socket. You shuffled to your dresser, gripping the fold of the towel over your sternum to keep it from slipping, praying that it covered enough of your ass to keep you from mooning him. You suspected that he had no desire to see the pimpled, stretched flesh untouched by the sun. You shimmied into your underwear and faced away from him while clipping your bra into place, but when you shuffled over to your closet to pull out your scrubs, Khonshu stepped in front of you.

You eyed him incredulously, propping your hands on your hips. "If this is your weird way of getting a free show, I'm afraid you're going to have to try a little harder—"

Elizabeth called your supervisor, Khonshu interrupted. She reported that you are ill and will be unable to return to work tonight.

You blinked in shock, then narrowed your eyes at him. "How do you know that? And why would she..."

You forget what I am so quickly, mortal, he rumbled, having the audacity to sound amused. You released the armor before it fully healed you, and your body has spent the day attempting to recover while you persisted in putting more strain upon it. You are in no state to tend to your patients, or to seek vengeance on my behalf.

You raised a brow. "Are you...giving me the night off?"

He rolled his shoulders back, beak twisting as he peered down its length at you. Would you rather me agitate your condition and cause you to require more time to recuperate?

Ah. He just wanted you to get better faster. Go figure.

"Not particularly," you muttered, dropping your head and rubbing at your burning eyes. "Is that why you've been gone all day? Avoiding having to watch this roaring dumpster fire of a mother I am?"

I had...other matters to attend to. Khonshu leaned forward slightly, stooping at the waist, to loom over you. He tended to do that more often than not—crowd you in, tread on your personal space, give you nowhere to go. From the average person, it would set you on edge. It had always bothered you how men used their size to intimidate or compel or beguile women in general, and since you faced confrontation with angry, ignorant, or downright aggressive people who attempted to belittle or criticize you on almost a nightly basis, your tolerance for it was very short. Khonshu never tripped that wire, however. You were uncertain whether it could be explained as simply as him being an otherwise incorporeal, unearthly being and therefore unrecognizable by your primal, primitive brain, or something as inexplicable as him just being...him. While he was almost unbearable to be around sometimes, you never felt that instinctual urge to get defensive, for whatever reason. And you are not a poor mother.

You scoffed softly, turned, and trudged back to the dresser to pull on a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. "That's easy for you to say, bachelor of the gods."

You would call me a liar so readily? Khonshu questioned, shoulders pressing back. If he had feathers, you were certain they'd be ruffled.

"You're not exactly forthright," you responded flatly, "—with anything, really."

I withhold information that is not pertinent, he told you. There is a difference.

"There is not a difference," you retorted sharply. "I appreciate transparent honesty above all else. Only telling part of a truth is still considered a lie. Or manipulation."

Khonshu regarded you for a moment, gauging. The venom underlying your words gave him pause, and you were grateful for the moment to take a breath and resettle your thinned nerves. Khonshu wouldn't know about the circumstances leading to your present contention about hiding things from people for whom you cared—again, keeping your service to him from Lizzie was a thorn in your side you worried would grow eventually vile. You shouldn't take out the threat of old wounds reopening on him when he had nothing to do with it.

And yet Khonshu rumbled before you could apologize, There is merit to your words. Forgive me my ignorance. I attempted to spare you the burden of knowledge I thought unnecessary when you already carry a great deal upon your shoulders, but I understand that it might have seemed unforthcoming on my part.

You blinked. An apology? From Khonshu? Really? Had you drowned in the shower? Were you so concussed that you were hallucinating?

It is also a new moon, he added when taking note of your speechlessness, thus why the armor was unable to fully heal you last night.

You frowned. "So the phases actually affect it?"

They affect everything, he told you, making a brief, sweeping gesture. My power oscillates with the moon. Why do you think the abilities my armor grants you were as enhanced on the full moon as they were? I am at my weakest when the moon does not shine, and you are at the most risk. Therefore...

"You don't want me out and about getting beat to hell." You sighed and rubbed at your face. All you wanted to do was to curl up under a weighted blanket and sleep. "Thanks."

While you are my avatar and under my auspices, Khonshu said, leaning back into your space, your well-being is also my responsibility. I will not lead you to harm intentionally. Last night's events were...unforeseen.

You rolled your eyes, but it only made your headache worse. "Yeah. I wasn't expecting to get thrown off a balcony, either." You squeezed them shut, dropped your head, and rubbed your temples with gentle circles. "Shit."

A resounding snap of long, nimble fingers made you flinch, but the familiar slither of linen around your ankle made you glance down. The intricately woven band of fibers was small, thin, and entirely dismissable—but the warm frissons that it sent up your leg into your aching ribs and throbbing head, just like how the armor felt while it healed wounds you incurred but subtler, were anything but.

You glanced up at the moon god with a questioning, quirked brow, but he said nothing. "Thank you."

What little boon I can give while I am at my weakest, he said. It will benefit you more if you rested.

"I need to check on Ru."

I know. Khonshu shook his skull. You will be better prepared for tomorrow.

You were uncertain whether that was premonition or command, but you didn't have the opportunity to question him because he was gone in the blink of an eye and the whisper of gauze.

"Weird old bird," you murmured, and trudged back out into the hall.

You found Lizzie at the counter next to the stove, chopping up onions on the granite countertop and adding them to the frothing base of what looked like a hearty, creamy soup. "I had a casserole in the oven," you offered meekly.

"It scorched a bit," Lizzie replied mildly, as though it were of no consequence that the whole dish had likely turned to ash in the wake of your scattered mind—she always downplayed your culinary blunders like the most patient of teachers. "I'm just throwing this together real quick so you'll have something on your stomach."

"I've eaten today," you said lamely.

Her look of incredulity made your face flush with immediate shame. "More than coffee and a couple of bites?"

You sighed, slumping into a chair at the table. A wistful glance towards the unoccupied high chair likely gave her enough explanation, as perceptive as she was.

"He's asleep in his crib," the ginger told you, returning her attention to her task. "Poor thing was tuckered out."

"He's been up all day," you lamented, dropping your face into your hands. "I overslept and he got upset. He never really settled down."

"I figured you weren't feeling well when I popped in to check on you before I left," she responded. "Usually you've at least gotten up to check on him."

"I slept through my alarm," you murmured. Your eyes stung with the imminent threat of more tears. "...Lizzie, I don't know that I'm cut out to be a mom."

She scolded your name with all the ferocity of a stern, knowing mother despite not being one herself—though being the eldest of five siblings would surely have given her some experience at some point. "...are you actively choosing to neglect him?"

You frowned. "No!"

"Are you not buying him all the things he needs?"

"Yes?"

"And aren't you doing your best in your present circumstances?"

"I..." You sighed. "...I'm trying. My best, anyway. It's not what I should be doing, but—"

"'But' nothing." She turned and pointed the knife at you with an arched, fiery brow. "All you can do is your best. He is one of the most spoiled, loved, and contented babies I have ever seen in my life, dear. You're juggling a full-time job—with one of the worst shifts ever—as well as working overtime, at the same time you're maintaining a household and raising a baby without a husband to support you. I couldn't do what you're doing right now. You are an astounding woman—I've always thought so—and how well you've endured all of this has only proven that tenfold. Badru is lucky to have you as his mum."

You swiped at your eyes as discreetly as you could manage. "...Thank you, Liz."

She scooped the onions into the pot before turning and stepping over to wrap an arm around your shoulders. "Don't give in yet, dear. Everybody has bad days. The fact you've gone this long without bumbling about is awe-inspiring." She patted your arm lightly. "I called your supervisor and told her you needed to rest tonight. She said she was shocked that you hadn't called in any days sooner."

You laughed quietly, nodded, and gestured to the stove. "Thank you. Is there any way I can help?"

"I've got a cake in the fridge that you could cut up," she grinned with a wink. "We deserve it."

And, yeah. You had earned it, hadn't you?

The cake was good, supper was better, and the fact that Ru didn't fuss very much for the rest of the night all combined into a balm on your worn nerves. You bathed him and put him to bed in the coziest onesie he had, taking extra time to rock and sing and hold him even after he fell asleep. You and Lizzie shared half a glass of the wine (nonalcoholic, of course—you were eternally grateful at how accommodating she was) that she'd picked up on the way home, tore through half the cake, then retired for the night.

When you woke the next morning ( before your alarm, oddly enough), you felt substantially better—less like the shuffling dead and more like the breathing living (a significant improvement, you felt). Your head remained tender to the touch, but all the bothersome symptoms of your concussion had dissipated. You took a hot shower, started breakfast, and woke Ru with a smile.

He didn't mind being placed on the floor while you tidied up around the apartment and cooked, nor did he whine when you were a little late on the draw for lunch. You were able to get everything together for the evening, and Lizzie got home without issue.

...That was where your short spurt of luck ran dry (again), however.

Torrential rain opened up when you left for work, and your raincoat couldn't keep you safe from the whipping, biting winds. The bus broke down in the middle of the city, so you were forced to call a cab and spend much more on fare fees than you had anticipated (and thus vanquished what was left of your cash until your next paycheck). When your foot hit the doorstep, you were immediately flooded with five patients all in labor at the same time and only one doctor on call trying to finish up her shift while the others were experiencing similar troubles in getting to the hospital on time. Two of the babies had to be placed in the NICU, one mother had to have a transfusion due to a nasty third-degree tear, and one of the new fathers shouted at you for having the gall to try to help one woman turn over into a different position and accidentally touching her bare backside as a result.

Paperwork from missing the previous evening stacked nearly as high as your shoulder, one of the nurses had gotten fired and thus you had to play catch up to patch together her charts, and the power flickered out for about five minutes before the generator had kicked on—resulting in losing all your work on a rather lengthy report for the mother of child number four experiencing some complications with the birth and ending up with an emergency cesarean. You had no time to eat supper until midnight, which was inhaled on your way out of the door and into the maintenance sector leading to the fire escape.

The only good thing was that Khonshu's armor still kept you dry and warm despite the rain and chill.

However, it being the first night of a waxing sliver (somewhere behind the mantle of black clouds, anyway) meant that the full strength of the abilities it granted was not yet returned—which became acutely obvious when, upon stopping a trio of thugs from robbing a small tavern trying to close up shop, one of them got in their getaway car and proceeded to plow over you at full acceleration.

Waking up to the sound of sirens peeling around the corner and the face of the owner looking rather terrified at the possibility that you weren't exactly human looming over you was not pleasant in the slightest. The fractured ribs, twisted ankle, and pounding head combined with Khonshu shouting in your ear to GET UP! did not exactly help matters.

The rest of the week quickly devolved into much of the same. Stressful nights caused overslept mornings and scrambling afternoons culminating into worse and worse performance—both for your employer and your eldritch patron.

Khonshu was going easy on you, you perceived quickly. As the nights wore on, he directed you to easier and easier targets—ending the week on a pickpocketer skulking around a nightclub. You didn't know whether to feel grateful for the easier quarry or insulted that he was giving you a lighter hand. He'd never held back his punches before (literally and figuratively, mind you). You'd rather struggle with his criticism than accept his pity.

(...You may also have been a tired, sore, angry mess and may be resorting to self-destructive tendencies, but you specialized in obstetrics, not psychiatry.)

Saturday morning rolled in as bleak, cold, and gray. You woke up with a migraine and a text from your supervisor that two nurses had called in and needed you to work overtime. You had laundry to wash, groceries to buy, and an apartment to clean. Ru's stomach also decided to stay upset well into the afternoon, resulting in extra laundry.

So, after a solid week of hell on wheels, it couldn't be a surprise that your luck would dictate Khonshu showing up in the absolute middle of everything.

He appeared in the dead center of the kitchen, and you nearly collided into him mid-turn of loading up the fridge with all the perishables. Ru was fussing into your shoulder, you'd pulled something in your back swinging around the gallons of milk, and the sudden rush of adrenaline at his silent, unexpected arrival spiked your irritability significantly.

You dropped the milk carton, upon which it burst upon the tile in a spectacular splash.

"What?!" you snapped at him, after recovering from a sharp, gasped curse and scowling at your soaked socks. "You really couldn't be bothered to give me some damn warning?"

Flustered beyond reason, you shoved Ru into Khonshu's spindly arms, already brushing past him to get the mop out of the utility closet in the corner. You ran hot water over it in the sink, rung out the excess, and started scrubbing the floor as though it had wronged you personally.

"It's enough that everything possible has been going wrong this week," you growled at him, eyes trained on the spill, "but the fact that you've been giving me special treatment doesn't make me feel any better. I know I'm next to useless, but you could at least pretend that I'm doing more good than tying up petty thieves for the police to find. You've always expected the most of me and that shouldn't change just because I'm tired. If you'll just give me time to work through all this, it'll go back to normal, and I'll—"

Gs, rqy Srit mwt.*

Your eyes snapped up to glare at him for his audacity—you'd had enough men curse at you in different languages for the week, thank you very much—but you realized that Ru was no longer crying. Khonshu had him tucked into the crook of one elbow, tiny in scale despite him taking up residence on your entire side. Ru had the moon god's free hand grasped firmly in both of his grubby ones, gumming at his gauze-bound knuckle with sparkling eyes focused upon the taper of his beak. You hadn't even been thinking, hadn't even considered whether Khonshu would be corporeal to Ru as he was to you, hadn't stopped to wonder whether the god would drop him. But for him to just so casually hold your son, as though he were used to it...the sight extinguished your anger instantly.

"He hasn't stopped crying since this morning," you said helplessly. "How?"

You forget so easily, Khonshu rumbled, shaking his skull. Healing infants is much easier and quicker than it is to heal adults. There is much less...mass.

You frowned. "What's wrong with him?"

Gas. He's had colic the last two weeks, and that is why it's been harder for him to settle.

Colic. Of course. You should've known that.

"Shit," you muttered, rubbing your face and leaning into the mop. You peered at your boy through your fingers. "...Thank you."

It will not be a permanent fix. You watched Ru wrangle with one of Khonshu's fingers, and the longsuffering lunar deity offered him the end of his thumb as a pacifier. A glimpse of unblemished copper disappeared into Ru's ravenous maw. But it will settle him for now.

"I don't guess I could hire you as a babysitter," you muttered, dropping your attention back to the spilled milk. (The irony was certainly not lost on you.) "I'd actually be able to get some sleep if he's like this."

It will get better over time. 

"I hope so." You let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know that I can last much longer like this."

You are doing well, all things considered. If this is the first time that you've truly questioned your capabilities, it has taken you much longer than most to admit to it.

You studied the moon god for a long moment, words brimming on the back of your tongue. Questions—you conjured so many questions when it came to Khonshu, you couldn't fathom having the time to ask them all, much less glean satisfactory answers from him that would sate your endless curiosity.

"Thank you," you finally repeated instead. 

His beak bobbed in a singular nod, and he turned with a sweep of his tattered cloak to stride out of the kitchen in all but two steps before disappearing down the hall. Finish your chores. Your incessant stress will only worsen his symptoms.

How the hell Khonshu would have any intuition about Ru besides what information you'd relayed to him was well past your knowledge—as well as your capacity to comprehend it, as frazzled as you were—but you weren't about to pass up free help by any means.

You did as he bade. You finished up mopping the spill, then got the rest of the groceries put up—far more slowly than usual, since you had to favor the tender place right below your shoulder blade. You started the laundry, sorting out the separate loads on the utility room floor. You pondered getting started on cleaning, but the thought of dragging around a vacuum cleaner over all the carpet in the apartment, as well as having to move furniture, made your back tighten by proxy. Deciding to take a break if nothing else, you wandered to the nursery to check on Ru.

Fast asleep. You lingered in the doorway, incredulous, lips parting as you took in the scene. Khonshu was far too big for the cushioned rocking chair in the corner, as disproportionate as an elephant in a dollhouse. Yet he seemed to have made it work: one ankle propped on the opposite knee, reclined, arms overflowing the rests, and skull braced against the pillow. He had the babe pressed against his chest, long hands clasped over the length of his spine to hold him securely in place, while his beak draped a long, dark shadow over him. The boy's fingers were knotted delicately into the fraying gauze wrapped over Khonshu's emblematic golden crescent—but something was different. Khonshu's overall dusty appearance, no matter the circumstances, rendered his bound body off-white at best, giving the impression of him having just walked out of a sandstorm at all times. However, submerged in the gloomy gray shadows from the lack of sunshine outside as he was, he still seemed to glow a crisper ivory than ever before.

Odd, you thought, but decided not to comment on it lest you rouse your restless son.

Khonshu either didn't notice your presence or didn't deign a conversation necessary, because he didn't move for a considerable amount of time. He couldn't exactly close his eyes, seeing (or not) as he lacked any in the physical sense. You decided not to disturb the pair, heart tightening in your chest as you fought the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Perhaps Khonshu had a soft side, after all.

Things did get better, after that—just like Khonshu predicted (because of course he was right; you knew he'd look all of a smug bastard if you admitted to it).

The odd crunch time of absences trickled to a stop as the weather stabilized into autumn proper, families got over their annual battle with the flu and the like, and kids started back to school. The holidays loomed ahead, but for the moment everything had settled.

You and Lizzie were able to take a weekend off with accumulated sick time in the heart of autumn, when the leaves had all turned into a vibrant array of cinnabar, rust, and ochre all over the city. The pair of you took the time to enjoy yourselves: sleeping in, going out shopping during the day, eating at restaurants that were new trials and old favorites. The apartment was spruced up to match the season coming into full swing, and you spent an entire morning baking cookies and pies for your favored neighbors and coworkers. It was a much-needed break, and Ru seemed to enjoy the cool weather and vibrant colors with how raptly he stared at them.

You gradually fell into a tentative rhythm with Khonshu, as well. He would explain your destinations as you would finish up your shift, then whisk you away on a crisp wind as soon as you donned his armor away from prying eyes. You grew accustomed to gliding over the city, cloaked in moonlight, swooping down upon evildoers both mildly mischievous and maliciously motivated like a bird of prey in your own right.

The most unexpected development, however, was finding Khonshu more and more frequently lingering around the apartment during the day. If Ru fussed for extended lengths of time, Khonshu would emerge from a shower of motes into coalescent shape to hold out a hand towards you—and once placed in the moon god's grasp, the babe's unease would lift, unerringly and instantly, every single time. While Ru napped, you would find the avian-headed deity looming over his crib like a sentinel, silent and still as he thumbed the grip of his staff thoughtfully. When Ru played, Khonshu would sit nearby, an empty and watchful socket trained upon the babe's gradually steadying movements at all times. He spoke little during these snatches of quiet, only responded in singular words if you addressed him directly, and you had taken to studying the scenes as subtly as you could manage. (Committing them with pencil to paper proved to be far more difficult, however.)

Khonshu's sudden interest in your son puzzled you to no end. Before, he had barely acknowledged the infant; now, it seemed, the latter could scarcely be found without the former somewhere nearby. Elsewhere, Khonshu behaved as he always had—impatient, capricious, and snide, always a rebuke ready on his incorporeal tongue. But seeing him so completely overtaken by a mortal as simple as a six month-old stayed your frustration many a long night.

As Ru grew stronger, so did you. As active as Khonshu kept you, you felt better than you had in years—no longer did you struggle to brace patients when needed nor to move heavier equipment; no longer did you get so short of breath when jogging across the wing, nor when you raced across rooftops in pursuit of your quarry; and no longer did you struggle to block the inevitable blows thrown at you in desperation, nor to incapacitate those Khonshu determined should be put away for their crimes. You couldn't seem to eat enough, especially after particularly taxing nights involving a lot of healing from Khonshu's armor or multiple conjurings of his weapons, though it never added to your figure. Sleep rarely was hard to come by anymore, as weary as you were by the wee hours of morning Khonshu returned you home. Despite all this, however, you didn't realize how much your lifestyle change had affected you until Lizzie pointed it out.

In the haste of a morning during the weekend, Lizzie had popped into your room with a question while you'd just gotten out of the shower and were getting dressed, Ru already propped on her hip and gnawing ravenously at a teething ring. Her fiery brows had inched halfway up her forehead, surprise clear in her pale eyes. "Good night, love, have you been going to the gym in the middle of all this?"

You glanced down at yourself, clothed only in your underwear, then into the mirror. The black athletic fabric contoured to your shape without clinging, and you paused to take in the subtle press of muscle just beneath your skin. You weren't jacked by any means, but you certainly appeared as fit as you had been while you'd boxed in college, if not more. While stretch marks still lingered, lacing like lightning along your lower belly and navel, your stomach had mostly returned to its normal shape. No wonder your bigger scrubs had grown too baggy to wear comfortably.

You looked...good. Very good. Even throughout all the hormonal hell you'd endured, you glowed.

Maybe something good came from being an ancient deity's avatar after all.

"I guess work has whipped me back into shape," you said nonchalantly, despite the pleased smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Lizzie gave you a long once-over, appraising with her approval. "I'd say. They've been running you ragged."

The revelation of your improved physique led to several others in rapid succession. Though your OB/GYN had warned of potential hair loss, your hair was as glossy, thick, and full as ever. The other new mothers on your floor gave voice to their envy of your clear complexion, and when you caved to wearing more form-fitting scrubs, they could scarcely believe that you'd recovered from delivery in so short a time when some of them still struggled years after.

As a joke, you'd often responded to their demands for your secrets with, "I guess I've been blessed."

It gave you a boost of self-confidence unlike any off-handed compliments or half-hearted reassurances could have offered, to know yourself as capable. (Never mind the fact that you were regularly going toe-to-toe with men sometimes three times your size and knocking them out in seconds.)

Whether word had been passed around the entire ward or your newfound assurance simply exuded beyond your knowledge, you started to garner more attention from your coworkers—namely those who hadn't even noticed you before, or those you at least thought hadn't. (Namely one gentleman in particular.)

"Gideon asked about you again yesterday."

You looked up from your computer screen towards your office door, raising a brow at the NICU nurse leaning against the jamb—Riley, tall and thin and as tan as a penny against her bleached-blonde hair. "Did he really?"

Her perfectly red lips, consistently applied throughout the day, curled into a smile to display her fluorescent white teeth that didn't quite reach her icy eyes. "Oh, yeah. Looked all over the floor for you. Had to tell him you were home sick."

"With my son," you reminded her patiently, returning your gaze to the screen. "He had a mild reaction to the sweet potatoes I fed him for lunch."

"Right, right." She turned over her hand to inspect her bright pink, bedazzled manicure. (It was truly a wonder she managed to type even as few reports as she did with how inconveniently long they were. You'd thought it against regulation, but she never seemed to get corrected for her bent rules since she wielded such a sweet tongue around your supervisor. "Anyway. Just thought I'd let you know. Think he might stop by in a bit—he's been booked up with tests all evening."

"Thank you for letting me know," you responded, flipping to the next page of your handwritten notes. "I'll be sure to give him your lingering regards."

The blonde stiffened, huffed, and whirled on her (non-standard) wedged heel to disappear back into the hall of the administrative wing. You shook your head to yourself with a sigh, rubbing at your eyes. One hour into your shift and you were already exhausted—Khonshu had helped to settle Ru the evening before, but he hadn't been able to hold him the entire night, citing other responsibilities to which he must attend. (You could have imagined it, but the lunar deity had seemed a bit reluctant to depart.) The boy hadn't slept very well after, even with you holding him, therefore you hadn't, either—you were starting to wonder, idly, if you were his favorite person anymore.

About half an hour of silent, mindless data entry passed before another shadow passed over your lintel—perhaps when the devil spoke, the spoken of should appear.

"Is the coast clear?"

Gideon—Doctor Aumere to most, though he always insisted upon such familiarity even with strangers—was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Soft-spoken and a tad too muscular to have gained it strictly from his field of medicine, every woman in the maternity ward (taken or not) gazed after him doe-eyed and agape whenever he passed. His close-trimmed beard was speckled with a fetching silver, his eyes a matching mercurial gray, and he always had his silky raven hair combed over with product that emphasized his peppery cologne. Very attractive, you acknowledged, and very personable—even a brief, passing mention of his name used to incite intense envy in your ex-husband after having met him the first time at a Christmas faculty function—but you'd always kept a polite, friendly distance for the sake of professionalism.

Braced against the doorframe by his forearm, he made for much prettier eye candy than its previous occupant, anyway.

"All clear," you chuckled, folding your hands over your notes and giving him your full attention. "How can I help you, Doc?"

He shot you a look—your gentle refusal to address him as anything but his earned title was a joke as old as your residency there—but chose not to quibble about it. "I heard you were ill last night—are you sure you're feeling all right enough to work?"

Riley and her proclivity for withholding information while spreading gossip. You refrained against the urge to roll your eyes. "My son was sick," you told him, "but he seemed better this morning. He didn't quite agree with sweet potatoes."

"Ah, my little girl didn't, either," the radiologist agreed, bobbing his head. An errant cowlick fell free from its bonds and caressed one angular brow. "She outgrew the sensitivity eventually, but she still avoids them like the plague. She has a thing for textures."

"Understandable. I only really like them in pies, anyway," you agreed. "How's the start of her last year in primary treating her?"

"She's definitely excited," he beamed. "Loves her teachers, too. She's making perfect grades in maths and science so far, so she's getting to visit her Nan up in the country this weekend as a treat."

"I'm sure she'll love that." Gideon's wife had passed away from a terminal illness two years prior, but since his own parents presently lived in France he'd kept his daughter as involved with his mother-in-law as possible, as she was the only grandparent relatively close. "Tabitha's doing well, then?"

"She's running the whole town, as usual," Gideon scoffed fondly. "Giving them what-for since they've started construction on an old plot that was someone's homestead at some point. Spirited one, she is."

"Like her granddaughter," you teased with a smile.

"Apple sits not too far from the tree, indeed," he laughed, low and rumbling. His eyes glittered in the flat, cold white lighting—normally unappealing on anyone—but his swarthy tone kept him as vivid as a Rembrandt. He straightened, then, rolling his shoulders back and easing a half-step further into the office in a slow slide. "Have anything interesting planned for this weekend, or just keeping up with the little one?"

"You know how the teething stage is." You reclined in your chair, dropping your hands into your lap to fiddle with the hem of your scrub top. "No rest for the weary."

"Elizabeth's busy, then?" he queried conversationally, tipping his head to the side.

You quirked a brow, smile broadening. "Asking for a friend, are we?"

"Something like that." He shifted his weight from foot to foot, a nervous tic you'd never observed in him before—then he surprised you further by reaching up and scrubbing the back of his neck, eyes falling briefly away from yours. "So...think you could find out if she's able to babysit?"

Your brows furrowed. "You...want to know if she's available...to babysit?"

He blinked. "...Yes?"

"But you said Abeille is visiting Tabitha," you said slowly, confused.

"I...yes." He frowned, just slightly, just as perplexed as you were. "...I meant for Elizabeth to babysit Badru, so that you might be available."

"...Oh." Oh.

"If you want it," he amended hastily, dropping his hand and flexing his fingers, "that is, if you're free—I don't mean to impose...but if you don't want—"

"Sure," you blurted, sitting up in your seat. "I—when?"

Gideon blinked rapidly, lips parting—surprised that you accepted, or shocked at your enthusiasm? "Oh, ah...your shifts end at midnight, right?"

"Saturday I'm on for morning," you offered, then winced. Khonshu. "But I have something to do that evening, so..." On reflex, you glanced at your desk calendar—then blinked at the full circle upon that very day: a new moon. "Oh, wait. Sorry. I'm good." You flashed him a sheepish smile. "Give me a time and a place and I'll be there."

His brows rose. "I thought—well, I could pick you up, save you the fare. Five-thirty?"

"Oh, um. Sure!" You snagged a sticky note from the dispenser and jotted down the street corner closest to Lizzie's apartment—you never gave exact addresses, but it would be close enough he wouldn't wait long for you to walk down. "Here."

He accepted it gingerly—warm, soft fingertips brushing yours—with a grin so bashful it de-aged him by ten years. His ears were red. "Any food allergies, sensitivities, or preferences?"

"It's all good," you told him, touched that he'd even think to ask. "Believe me, food is my friend."

He laughed softly, then, the tension bleeding out of his athletic frame. "Mine, too—perhaps too close a friend, at times."

You nodded with a chuckle, and a beat of silence passed.

"Well," he said, folding the note carefully and tucking it into one of the numerous pockets lining his scrub top, "I've results to read before I go, and—"

"No, yeah, that's fine," you responded, breathless and flustered. "See you Saturday?"

"Yes," he beamed, the absolute happiest you'd ever seen him. "Don't work yourself too hard, choupinette."

"I'll try not to." You waggled your fingers at him as he stepped out of the doorway. "Give Abeille a kiss for me."

"I will. Send my love and well-wishes to Badru, likewise."

His absence was as acute as it was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded beneath your breast, your hands trembling, your face hot—you forced yourself to take a deep breath to grasp at some semblance of calm.

Never had you thought Gideon would have been interested in you—out of all the gorgeous European women flaunting up and down the halls, he spied out the awkward, quiet American? Preposterous, surely, at least to his admirers once word got out (and it would, inevitably). Even with idle, harmless speculation while married, you'd always imagined him impossibly far out of your league.

To have been flirted with earnestly for the first time in close to a year, by someone admittedly far more genial and attractive than your ex, was scattering the cloud of butterflies you'd thought long dead within your belly in a flourish. You pressed your hand over your cheek, pulling in the fading remnants of his cologne as you reached over to tap your phone awake with pursed lips.

'Lizzie, I need a favor.'

Not even a minute passed before your watch chimed quietly. 'Whatcha need?'

'Would you mind watching Ru Saturday evening? If not, it's totally fine.'

'It's no trouble at all—get called in for another shift?'

'No.' Your smile finally broke forth. 'I may or may not have a date.'

Half a minute passed.

'A D AT E ?'

The following tide of 'who's, 'when's, 'where's, and 'why's forced you to silence your notifications with a giddy chuckle. 'Gideon, 5:30, not sure, and hell if I know. He just asked me out of the blue!'

'I TOLD you he was interested!'

'Forgive my skepticism—I am not worthy of your infinite wisdom.'

'Damn straight. We need to go SHOPPING!'

'You're lucky I'm getting paid this week.'

You turned your phone over with a chuckle, though it did take you longer than you'd like to have admitted to be able to concentrate fully on your work once more.

"I haven't gone on a first date in over five years, Liz. What if I absolutely fumble it? What do I even talk about?"

"Whatever he talks about. You're both in the medical field, you should have plenty of topics to cover. You only chat with him in passing, right? So you can skip the awkward small talk."

"Since I've been there, yeah. But what if he doesn't talk? What if he doesn't want to discuss work at all?"

"Then talk about his little girl and Ru."

"And if he's wanting to be distracted from that, too?"

Lizzie stared at you for a beat, sitting back in the kitchen chair and taking in your fretful fidgeting with the billowing sleeve of your dress. The makeup brush in her hand still glittered in the warm sunlight pouring through the kitchen window with the eyeshadow she was applying to your lids. She uttered your name with a shake of her head and a fond smile. "...you're overthinking it. Relax. If he didn't want to spend extra time with you, he wouldn't have asked you out in the first place. He obviously wants your company." She resumed her work and casually added, "Just text me if I need to vacate Ru from the premises."

"I—no," you assured her hastily, "there won't be any need for that."

"You say that now. From what I saw on social, he's a dreamboat—you could use a good roll in the hay."

"Elizabeth Kelly," you scolded, "I will do no such thing."

She shrugged. "Wouldn't hurt. I've got condoms in the medicine cabinet."

"Drop it."

"Okay, okay," she chuckled, gesturing for you to close your eyes again. She resumed her work, shading in the creases. "I know you're more careful with that sort of thing, I was just teasing."

"I know." You coiled the fabric around your knuckle and squeezed, fighting down the flutters of anxiety low in your belly. The last time you'd had sex was seared into your mind as the catalyst that flipped your entire world upside down—Ru was truly the best thing to come out of the entire ordeal, your newfound freedom aside. "...I didn't mean to snap."

"You're fine, love," Lizzie assured you. Her brush lifted and she set it aside. "All done. You look stunning."

"Not like a chronically exhausted single mother?" you mused, glancing at the small, round mirror she had propped up to the side. The billowing, rust, linen dress was accented by the shades of amber and honey she'd chosen, your blush a touch dark but not out of place in a brisk autumn evening. She had done well to cover up the imperfections, though not nearly as heavily as she decorated yourself (at your request), namely the dark circles beneath your eyes. You looked...put-together, for perhaps the first time in months. Lizzie did well.

"Not at all. You look like a lady ready for war." The ginger winked and began to gather up her supplies. "Now go get those cute, heeled boots and knock his socks off with that perfume that smells so good."

You rolled your eyes as you stood and shuffled into the hall. "Doll me up and send me out to break my neck. I see how it is."

"You need to show off those calves after whatever you've been doing to bulk them up!" she called after you with a laugh. "And I'm not going to bring up the fact your thighs could crush melons!"

You shook your head while slipping into your room, opening your closet, and stooping to grab the pair of boots in question: caramelized leather with braided straps, decorative buckles, and four-inch heels. It was the nicest pair of shoes you owned, and you hadn't had an excuse to wear them since you'd had Ru.

Speaking of—he was asleep in his crib in a post-dinner nap, but you wanted to at least kiss him goodbye before you left.

You stepped into the shoes, zipped them up your ankles, and straightened. You turned to your chest of drawers to spritz your perfume, cradling the bottle in your hands, but the rising of the hairs on your neck made you twist back around expectantly.

Where are you going?

"Out," you muttered to him, spraying your neck and wrists and rubbing the fragrance into your skin. Your gabardine coat, hanging on the back of your door, was next. "New moon, right?"

The lunar god, ghostly white even in the dim light peeking in from the open doorway, hunched forward to loom over you. His fingers tightened around the grip of his staff. Yes.

"Okay. I made plans." You grabbed your purse, downsized from your normal tote for the sake of convenience for the night, and slung the long strap over your shoulder. You reached for your scarf next, plaid in a warm, fall foliage palette, but the deity's shadow fell over you.

Where are you going? he repeated, standing so close that his wrapped, belted front brushed against the back of your coat.

You faced him again, squinting, looping the knit fabric around your neck and tying it over your throat. You fiddled with its tails to lay over your chest. "What does it matter?"

Why are you being difficult? he pressed.

"Why are you being pushy?" you shot back, brows furrowing. "What does it matter if I'm off tonight?"

Khonshu rumbled low in his chest, clearly agitated.

"You always know where I am anyway, right?" you added, stepping around the door to stand in the mouth of the hallway.

I do. The tension in his shoulders and hands eased, just a bit. His tone suggested he had wanted to say more, but he remained silent.

You eyed him for a moment, speculative, before giving him a shrug, turning, and walking across the hallway. He didn't follow you.

Ru was still fast asleep, huddled around one of the many stuffed animals Lizzie had bought for him on a whim (he had a veritable mountain piled into a basket in the bottom of his closet)—this one a raven, black as night, with shimmering silver eyes. You stood beside the crib for a long moment, taking a series of deep breaths to steady your nerves. He would be fine, you would be fine, it would be fine. It was just a date—not even a date, maybe, since Gideon hadn't specified the nature of this outing. Perhaps he was just trying to persuade you to work in his office, or buttering you up for a difficult favor, or just wanted to get drinks after work. He could have perfectly platonic intentions in mind, for all you knew.

Ru snuffled in his sleep.

...Who were you kidding? It was definitely a date.

You let out a sigh and stooped down to kiss his temple. He stirred only slightly, the flutter of lashes against the generous swell of his cheek, "I'll be back before bedtime, buddy," you murmured, inhaling the scent of lavender soap from behind his ear.

Lizzie was peering out from between the curtains on the kitchen window when you re-emerged into the main room. "You didn't tell me you've landed yourself a sugar daddy, love!" she breathed, not even bothering to tear her eyes away. "He's got a Jag!"

You refrained from the terrible urge to roll your eyes. "It's one date, Liz. He'll probably run for the hills after tonight. Hell, he might move back to France."

"If he knows what’s good for him, he'll snatch you up like the catch you are!" She turned and surveyed your completed look with a smile. "Or have those thighs as earmuffs in no time."

Your face grew unbearably hot. "Please stop."

"Alright, alright," she laughed, stepping over and shooing you towards the door. "I've already written down his license plate. Keep me posted. If you need me, call me—I don't care where or when."

"I know. Thank you." You gave her a pleading look. "Please let me know if Ru's giving you trouble."

"He'll be fine. He and I have a tradition now."

"Eating ice cream and watching Hallmarks is not exactly stimulating for an infant's developing mind."

"Pish posh, you're just picky. He'll need to know the finer points of romance for when he's having to beat off all the girls with a stick."

"That seems counterproductive."

Lizzie scoffed and began to shoo you toward the door. "Go on, have a good time! Keep me posted!"

"I'll try," you sighed. You turned as she opened the door. "Don't stay up waiting on me if I'm late—I'll wake you when I get home." Lizzie's brows waggled, and you batted at her face. "Stop that. I'll see you later, you brat."

Lizzie's exuberant laughter followed you down the hallway, even while she shut and locked the door behind you.

You trotted down the stairs onto the ground floor, quickly emerging from the building and rounding the corner that you'd given to the radiologist. True to Lizzie's word, Gideon stood under the lamppost with a sleek, charcoal Jaguar purring beside him. She had failed, however, to share the fact that he was cradling a brimming bouquet of spotless white lilies almost bursting from the paper and ribbon constraining the blooms. He smiled as soon as he spotted you, slipping his phone back into the inside pocket of his rather fetching navy sportcoat—his khaki slacks accentuated his long legs, but his pale blue shirt was unbuttoned to the top of his sternum. A hand-knit brown scarf was bundled around his neck and tossed over his shoulder. (Business casual? Should you have dressed up more?)

"Bonsoir," he crooned your name, stepping up to meet you and offering the bouquet gingerly. "You look stunning."

"You've cleaned up pretty nicely yourself," you returned, then inwardly cringed. You hid your flaming cheeks into the flowers under the guise of smelling them (though they did have a lovely scent). "You didn't have to get me flowers—thank you. What are they?"

"They're alstroemerias. Why wouldn't I? It's the gentlemanly thing to do," he returned with a chuckle. He cupped your elbow and gestured to the idling vehicle. "Please, let me get you out of the cold."

He steered you around, opened the door, and shut it once you were safely tucked into the passenger side. The scent of freshly-sprayed cologne, musky and warm, mingled with the clean air freshener plugged into the central vent into a heady mixture that you found yourself drawing full breaths to enjoy. Gideon settled into the driver's seat, quickly shutting the door against the breeze whipping up in his wake—the product in his hair loosened enough that an errant lock of raven hair fell over his brow.

"The forecast didn't say anything about strong winds," he muttered, mostly to himself.

You shrugged with a smile. "It enhances the look. Where are we going?"

Some color diffused beneath his cheeks and he gave you a bashful grin before slipping the Jaguar into drive and pulling out onto the street. "I know a nice place uptown," he said, "if you're agreeable to Asian."

"Perfectly agreeable." You tried to ignore the fact that your stomach gurgled at the mere sound of food—you'd forgone lunch in your rush to get everything done at work. "So long as I don't stick out like a sore thumb, anyway."

"You couldn't if you tried," Gideon chuckled, and pulled onto the road proper.

You didn't spot the glimpse of the stiff, linen-wrapped silhouette perched upon the streetlamp where you'd stood in the vehicle's rearview mirror.

[awellboiledicicle]

I feel like the "everyone has a fever and aches" night you get post-grove situation ends out fine overall for Hawke and co, but Anders and Halsin were the two non-worm individuals in camp going "do we have the power to fight that many mindflayers? no. Do we have the power to kill ailing people mid-transformation? Yes, that we can do."

But like they wouldn't want to pull the trigger on that option until the bleeding started, because like you can tell Lae'zel-- maybe everyone just got sick. You all eat the same food, sans Astarion, but even he probably still drinks water now and then and you all get yours out the same river.

And all this is fine, because it passes.

But all i can imagine is Anders and Halsin not sleeping, pacing around the camp all night, changing rags off foreheads, leaving water by beds and covering the people who kicked off their blankets and are now curled up shivering. They all went to bed with the clear understanding that what must be done will be, if they change.

Hawke faces it with a sort of grim finality. I hc that Malcolm died of some kind of illness, so Hawke is just sitting there pondering if its the worm or if some things run in the family. Silly, really, because it's far more likely that fighting a giant spider spitting acidic venom at them just fucked everyone up a bit. His stomach lurches and he tries to focus on staying himself, just in case that helps. Foggy memories of his family drift through his head. Lothering, a dozen no name villages across Fereldan. Kirkwall. The unofficial temporary homes he and Anders would set up while on the run, be it in caves or clearings or abandoned homes they could pretend were theirs in a pinch. Thinks about his friends and worries if they're alright. Worries about Anders, if this really is it. The sweat is coming so thick by the time he drops into sleep that his hair is slick. Anders has to keep himself from centering around him, specifically, especially with the others to care for as well. Halsin has to take over while the healer fetches yet more water from the river, though he lingers just long enough to squeeze Hawke's hand.

Lae'zel is surprisingly calm when they tend to her, teeth bared while she rides through another wave of nausea. She seems to be doing it in her sleep, hands curled into fists as her muscles jump and sweat pools. She had forgone her usual clothes in favor of simple undergarments, hissing an insistence that the less material between blade and her body would be a boon when the time came. The way her body shuddered, however, Anders had a sneaking suspicion that it was her way of staying relatively cool in the face of her body turning on her. Either way, she greedily clung to the blanket Halsin laid over her as nights chill set in.

Wyll lies curled on his side, horns scratching furrows in the dirt through his bedroll. His blanket is soaked through and his breathing comes in short, labored, panting. He took the longest to fall asleep, insisting the ache made his scars thrum and his false eye feel even more foreign than usual.

Karlach had to be doused in water on a few occasions through the night, between her engine and her temperature she was fairly steaming by the time she drifted off. Her bedroll's base survived entirely through how soaked it had become.

Shadowheart muttered half tracked prayers and curled with her knees to her chest. Her hands shook as she prepared for bed, and she nearly told the two off for attempting to give her a cool towel for relief. Something about this pain being a service to lady Shar, how she would overcome it as proof of her devotion, before silently passing into sleep.

Astarion was the most trouble, if only because he insisted that the only way he could feel better was to either have blood or trance in the river directly. It was, after all, not like he was used to something approaching living temperatures ripping through his flesh after 200 years of cold undeath. When the worst of the pains started, he allowed the two to get close enough to leave things by his bedroll-- trying to touch him was met with a near feral hiss and a swipe of his nails. He crawled a good ways before stumbling to his feet and making it to bed and collapsing in it. The noises he made as he dropped into a deep trance were... worrying.

Gale, meanwhile, was the one they had to actually fight to keep in camp. Not because he WANTED to leave, but because he was convinced he had to. He was slow and deliberate as he insisted that, if the fever did not break, he needed to be taken to the Whispering Depths and thrown into the abyss below it. He didn't know if that would be enough distance to spare the Grove, or even most of the coast from the orb, but it would be a better try than having it happen out on the surface. He made them promise, with all the specific slowness of pronouncing an incantation, to do so if the symptoms progressed and to not just slit his throat. It was paramount. They agreed, naturally, though Halsin internally wasn't thrilled with the uncertainty involved.

Then, around midnight, the sounds of fevered thrashing and labored breathing quieted. Smoothed into the sounds of restful slumber. This was somehow almost as worrying as the sounds. A quick check showed no bleeding noses or mouths, nor tentacles bursting from jaws. The night passed, then, like the last week or so had-- calmly, until sunrise.

One at a time they woke and made their way about dealing with the residue of sweat and dirt from thrashing. Hawke clung to Anders the second he clapped eyes on the tired healer, popping his back in a powerful hug.

"As much as i needed that to go back in, air, love--" Anders gave his shoulder a pat and pressed a kiss to his sweat sticky forehead as he loosened his grip. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just compressed every infection i'd ever had into one night of feeling fucking awful. But," He grinned and kissed Anders on the cheek, their stubble scraping together. Anders snickered and playfully batted at his chest. "My beloved healer kept me alive, yet again."

"I can't take all the credit, but i'm going to." With a wry smirk, he shook his head and pushed Hawke toward the river. "Now go get cleaned up. You smell like my clinic."

"Here I thought you liked my smell--" Hawke was purposely dragging his feet as they approached the water, largely to be an ass. "And besides, the water's going to be cold."

"You poor thing, how will you survive."

"Probably with someone to help keep me warm?"

"Not while everyone else is here, love." A final push before crossing his arms and nodding toward the water. "We can regroup after."

"Come on, keep me company?" Hawke shot him a pleading look while he started undoing the laces on his shirt. He removed it and paused, idly folding it while his face crumpled in thought. "Besides, I had a particularly strange dream that I wanted your thoughts on."

With a sigh, Anders settled on a rock at the bank and held out a hand for the shirt. Passing it over and starting on the rest of his clothes, he hummed. Though Anders did feel cheeky enough to give him a flick across the rear with his pants once passed over.

"Hey, now, what about not while other are in earshot?" Hawke quickly retreated into the water and suppressed the full body shudder in favor of scrubbing at his face.

"I'm innocent of all wrongdoing." He deadpanned, folding the pants on his lap and leaning on them. He'd have to fetch something clean for his dear husband in a moment, but he was rather curious about this dream. Hawke was never great about sharing whatever popped into his head in the Fade, and he couldn't imagine that had changed now. He watched his lover scrub for a bit before asking. "So, you had a dream?"

"Yes, about the worms." Hawke rubbed at his chest, the hair having matted a bit with sweat. He'd worry about the knots later, he supposed, and focused on scrubbing. "Someone that looked... almost exactly like you showed up and insisted I was... changing. Only, he didn't have that scar on your cheek from the expedition and when his eyes glowed, there wasn't any of Justice's fire. Just... magic, i suppose."

"Did this visitor offer you anything?" Anders chewed idly at his thumbnail and squinted. He didn't think there would be demons cropping up to tempt them, but it also wasn't as if he'd been dreaming of anything but Justice and nightmares lately. "Power, things like that?"

"If it was a demon," Hawke drawled, sinking down deeper into the river and thinking. "It was doing a very bad job. It said not to give into the worm, but take advantage of it. Learn how to use it's power. Kirkwall demons had much better sales pitches."

"It was a more competitive market in Thedas." Anders sighed with a frown. "Though I hardly need to tell you to dismiss it out of hand, correct?"

"No, love, I was going to believe the worm vision and perhaps eat another one. Just see how that goes for me." They shared a look before Hawke snorted and shook his head in the face of Anders' scowl. "You don't, no. Though once i'm done here, we should probably check in on the others. See if their worms have turned, as it were."

"We can ask while i'm doing check ups, once you get done." Anders looked deeply amused for a moment, glancing between the clothes and where Hawke stood. "Suppose i should be a good husband and get you something that doesn't smell, hm?"

"I mean, i'd appreciate that. Unless you want me to wander through camp naked."

"As much as I'd enjoy that, let's not give Gale another reason to have his concentration tested."

"Aw. Well, if i have to behave... Go on." Hawke flicked a little water toward him. "Please."

Anders going and getting him clothes did not stop Gale from going to the river a little ways downstream, getting half undressed and glancing over just in time to see Hawke wave at him. He most definitely did not hide behind some reeds like a blushing teenager and sneak a peak around like a much bolder younger man. His ability to remain calm was being tested and he was failing. But he was alive to keep trying to keep focused, so that's a win.

Meanwhile Scratch is just like "oh gods are my people ok, oh no oh gods" and has to get all the good boy pets.

[alleyskywalker]

How do you think ACOK/AGOT Theon Greyjoy would have gotten along politically and personally with his uncle Rodrik “the Reader”, as well as cousin Ser Harras Harlaw? For me, Theon’s relationship with his mothers family is one of the more notable missed opportunities for interesting personal dynamics (also, if the Theon Latecomer theory comes to pass, R’hllor help us all if poor Alannys never gets to hold her baby boy one more time)

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to get to this ask. It's true that the Harlaws are not very developed, being minor characters mostly.

Harras particularly we know next to nothing about. We know he's a knight, perhaps encouraged in that direction by the Serrett/Westerlands side of his family, he's a good fighter and seems on the all-business side of things (although this is taken very from off-hand type of comments). He does not appear to be married? Not sure what that says either way. He's actually, if I'm reading the family tree right, a cousin of Rodrik the Reader, which makes him Theon's like…second uncle? Or whatever that's called? However, he's younger than Rodrik it seems, given that he was good friends with Rodrik Greyjoy, Theon's brother. While it's difficult to project a personality from these scant details, I think the friendship with Rodrik probably doesn't bode well for Theon and him being friends. Even if Harras didn't personally participate in Rodrik's bullying, he's the kind of person who would be friends with a Rodrik and, even if we say he was younger and grew out of it or whatever, Theon would still have that association. Politically, however, I see House Harlaw sticking with the Greyjoy kids, whether Asha or Theon. If we assume that Rodrik didn't consider his bullying of Theon personal (and more as normal sibling hazing he'd do to anyone), Harras might also feel an honor/chivalry-induced drive (see knighthood) to support his close friend's brother and rightful heir.

Rodrik the Reader is interesting because we do know a little more about him, but we don't see him interact with Theon or anyone else much in the family, aside from Asha. Theon's favorite uncle in his childhood seems to have been pre-conversion Aeron, i.e. someone of similar personality to himself - social, charming, fun-loving, brash, lusty, etc. Rodrik in comparison would probably feel boring or uptight to Theon. Theon in ACOK would also probably be, or at least try to appear as, on a bit of an anti-intellectualism bend. Not because he's dumb or even "was a poor student" or whatever, but because he's just not nerdy or a bookworm, generally to begin with, and he's trying extra hard to fit in with the Iron Islands cultural slant, which IS somewhat anti-intellectual relative to the mainland. (I'm willing to bet this is half of where those "Greyjoys are working class" modern AUs come from lol.) In any case, Theon is not likely to appreciate the nerdy, secluded company Rodrik would offer.

That said…an uncle doesn't need to be a buddy, necessarily. If Rodrik wanted to bond with Theon for whatever reason and/or just happened to be in the right situation… He seems to be a pretty insightful and above-average-on-empathy type of person. Theon also really needs a stable and compassionate father figure, or any family member really, who could offer him emotional safety and support. Rodrik may not be perfect in this role, but he'd probably do better than a lot of other people, especially in the Greyjoy family. So assuming either specific effort on his end or the right type of situation, I think Theon might be inclined to reach for him, just because he's so obviously starved for love.

Politically, even more so than Harras, I think Rodrik could be safely considered a supporter of Theon, at least unless he's going up against Asha. If it's Theon vs. Asha…that might be a different, difficult sort of situation which I could see falling either way due to a number of factors.

[thornfield13713]

6, 13, 15 (I was thinking for Rosie bc she's the bg oc I've seen most about, but feel free to go with someone else if you have more interesting answers for them!)

What companion are you platonically close with?

I have...a lot of trouble not befriending everyone all the time, in this game, but there are a few people Rosie is closer to than others.

The most notable example is Astarion, because they got close enough in this runthrough that I actually got his proposition at the tiefling party, and was planning to accept (with the intention of doing the 'you need a friend more than a lover' break-up later) if Karlach hadn't already made her move in the Underdark. Even without having briefly been lovers first, though, Astarion is probably Rosie's best friend in the party, in the same way that Wyll and Karlach are undeniably each other's. She was good friends with the rest of the party in various ways, but Astarion cemented his place as the closest to her by being the one who understood her situation with Bhaal most. They also shared a very dark sense of gallows humour that was often a bit unsettling for other members of the party.

She's probably second-closest to Wyll, though this doesn't emerge until after he's one of the only members of the group not to be (understandably) furious at her after her role in starting the Absolute plot comes out, despite the fact that, of the group, he's probably the member with the highest moral standards. The fact that they're both fundamentally dreamers who wanted to be like the heroes of the storybooks they grew up with helped a lot - Rosie, like Wyll, constructs a lot of who she is from half-remembered stories. She's doing it differently to him, but there's a certain amount of looking at each other and recognising the same coping mechanisms and the same careful construction of outward identity.

Minsc and Jaheira also very quickly became very close to Rosie indeed, once they joined the group as full-time companions. Those relationships are more familial than anything, given both of them make statements to the effect of 'you're family' over the course of the game, whether it's the 'cub' nickname or Minsc announcing that being Bhaalspawn makes him your uncle. And Rosie, who hasn't had a family since she was forced to murder her foster-family as a young child, likes having that to fall back on.

What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

I mean. Rosie is a Dark Urge, which means that she automatically enjoys killing far more than she is comfortable with. Even early in the game, when she was just under the impression that she had a really bad case of the intrusive thoughts, she was very unsettled by how satisfying she found it to kill things, how much she enjoyed it. Which is a big part of why she did her best to avoid killing wherever she possibly could, lest it feed that part of her. This was...not an ideal strategy, as the Urge only got worse for not being placated, but thankfully for a while there were at least enough legitimate instances of no-other-option-but-violence to keep her mostly on top of her urges without random murder sprees.

That said, even killing in battle had a bit of a tendency to leave her guiltily torn between the part of her that loved every second of it, and the part of her that felt that killing ought to be a necessary evil and enjoying it was a slippery slope to whatever it was that led her to vivisect people in her former life (falling down to the Underdark early and getting her hands on noblestalk was enough to give her a relatively early insight into just how bad her past actually was, even if not the fact that she had greater ambitions than just back-alley serial killing) or kill people she wanted to be friends with in their sleep.

After losing her connection to Bhaal, this changed a bit, and Rosie had to come to terms with the fact that she still enjoyed fighting, she found satisfaction in it, and even the moment of the kill had something exhilarating in it still. She'd sort of been hoping her love of violence was purely Bhaal's influence, and it took a few conversations with Minsc and Karlach and other members of the party who enjoy violence, and whom Rosie feels, justifiably, have better grasps on the whole 'morality' thing than she does, to start getting past that sense of shame she feels about her enjoyment of fighting and killing.

What NPC's do they like? Which ones do they dislike?

I'm not sure her complicated feelings re: Gortash, Orin and Ketheric come under this one, but here's a quickfire of some of the major ones:

Depressingly, Rosie liked Alfira from the moment she first met her, and it was probably this immediate liking that led to Bhaal wanting Alfira dead right off the bat. That and Rosie having offered to help with her songwriting, which the Urge does not like at all. Unfortunately, Rosie being in some denial about how serious her urges are at this point, just assumes it's the same as thinking about Astarion's corpse the moment she meets him and lets Alfira come along with her, and- Well. You know the rest. She liked Alfira's hopefulness in the face of everything, she thought her song was beautiful, and was charmed and delighted by her eagerness to see the world - there was the beginning of a real friendship there, which just made what followed even worse.

She's also got a whole mess of feelings about Zevlor. At first, she admires and appreciates his protectiveness of his people, but then...well, then she finds him at Moonrise Towers after hearing everyone talking about how he broke, and there's a moment of absolute, agonising connection when he talks about how much he wanted to be a paladin again, and his guilt for what he was enthralled into doing. Sadly, that was the last she saw of him until the final battle, but there's something going on with those two and their relationships with their oaths and with the idea of being a paladin in general, and I sort of regret that, if Zevlor is anywhere in act 3 before the endgame, I haven't found him yet.

After they start talking, she and Dame Aylin also end up getting on surprisingly well, and I do slightly regret that there's no chance in-game to talk to her about the 'both children of the gods' thing, because it would be an interesting dynamic. Aylin is a bit more bombastic than Rosie, but she's also- in many ways, the sort of paladin Rosie wanted to be, but never quite lived up to. Which means that Rosie likes her a lot, admires her, but is...also somewhat envious of her.

Despite the above, Isobel is...uncomfortable...for Rosie, in that there's a certain...immediate, instinctive dislike there, exacerbated by the Urge screaming at Rosie to kill her even before Sceleritas turns up to make it an ultimatum. The Urge thing does just make Rosie dig her heels in, but that does just mean that she's quiet and awkward around Isobel, has a lot of trouble not rolling her eyes, and just does her best to avoid her at camp, despite getting on quite well with Aylin. Rosie herself can't even justify her dislike, it just...sort of happened?

Someone she is much firmer in her dislike for, however, is Wulbren Bongle. Yes, I know, if not the least controversial opinion in the game, it's up there. It's just- he has someone who cares about him enough to walk into danger and death for the chance of saving Wulbren. And Wulbren spits on it at every turn, treats the person who has gone to such lengths to rescue him like shit, and Rosie, who has...strong and complicated feelings about how people relate to one another, and about the idea of having people who cared enough to look- She wanted to throw Wulbren out into the shadow curse long before things came to a head, but that is the way it goes.

And then there's Sceleritas Fel, who scares her. Not because she fears him personally - even without her memories, she is quite confident in her ability to deal with him - but for what he means. She's as terrified to learn that she used to murder him on the regular (from the noblestalk thing) as she is by his delivering demands to kill her lover, because every word out of his mouth seems to confirm that she was an even worse person than she thought until he started talking, and she's genuinely terrified of just how deep and dark that pit truly is. All the same, seeing him killed to summon Bhaal hurt, in a way she has trouble explaining even to herself.

There are probably others I'll remember later, and kick myself for not including, but those are the ones that came to mind while I was writing this one.