#he has a pillar of the universe that looks like a weird cat in his pocket yelling about camembert
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Yeah, the whole Chat talking about soulmates thing does seem to be one of those "thing that happened once of twice in the show, but the fandom fixated on it, and now everyone acts like it happens all the time in the show" thing
yeah
but I do think that the conversation would switch to stuff like this when comparing their miraculous. the cat and ladybug are the opposite and unifying them results in a reality-altering power (only in the show but they don't know that) and Stephan already believed in stuff like love at first sight. soulmates aren't that big of a stretch considering the concepts here.
#he has a pillar of the universe that looks like a weird cat in his pocket yelling about camembert#soulmates are very plausible#and he hates it#does this sound defensive and angry???#not my intent with the tone#ask#miraculous ladybug#miraculous disaster au#stephan petrov#because this stuff applies to the actual au
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When Your Dad is a Pillar of the Universe 7
"A weird senior you said?" Kim Seung Jong said as he washed the dishes.
Kim Rok Soo nodded as he finished up his homework. "He was a member of the book club and wants to be a writer."
"I still don't see what's weird of it."
Rok Soo was silent as he finished off his homework.
"Mmm, he feels.... older than he should be?"
Seung Jong raised an eyebrow as he dried his hand, "Older?"
"Not as old as you though."
The older man sighed, "Why don't you start at the beginning?"
The now 17 years old boy starts his story of meeting a weird senior at his school's library.
"You see, I went to the library to borrow some new novels..."
Kim Rok Soo never really notices it before, but after a few months of staying with Kim Seung Jong, he began to have a sixth sense of sorts. For example, he accidentally stumbled into some abandoned shrine when he was 10 years old. He saw a weird ball of light floating in the main hall and slowly walked backward but the light keeps on following him.
Suddenly, a black cat pounced on the light ball, giving the terrified child a chance to escape.
Ever since, he became sensitive to that sorts of things and found out that his father's main body have many ways to keep an eye on him. Now, this senior in front of him gave him the same feeling as the light balls he kept encountering.
"Do you need something?" The senior asked after being stared at for a couple of minutes.
Kim Rok Soo startled and almost dropped his books, "Ah! No! I just wants to check out these books."
The senior looks skeptical as he retrieved the books, "Really? You were staring at me for 5 minutes, though."
"That's because you seems really engrossed in what you were writing. I don't want to bother you."
The Senior sighed, "Just call me if you want to borrow something. That's technically my job here."
Kim Rok Soo nodded before he sight was attracted to the book the Senior writes in. The Senior immediately snaps the book close.
"What are you writing, Senior?"
"A.... novel, I suppose."
"Really? What kind of novel?"
The Senior just kept staring at him. Flustered, Kim Rok Soo changed the topic.
"Err, senior, do you have club recommendation?"
The senior kept silent as he checks out the books Rok Soo wished to borrow. When he gave it to Rok Soo, he said, "You seems to like reading, why don't you join the book club?"
"The book club?"
"Yes, we gather every wednesay and friday after school to read books, sometimes we discuss the plot of a particular novel, or even exchange the books in our collections," the senior said as he reach for the book club pamphlet.
"Here, this is my contact number if you decide to join," he said as he gave the pamphlet to Rok Soo.
Rok Soo received both his books and the pamphlet. He saw a name above the handwritten string of numbers, Choi Jung Gun. He bid his farewell to this enigmatic senior. As he left, he feels the senior, Choi Jung Gun, continue to stare at him.
----
"Something is different," Choi Jung Gun mumbled.
"He has no curse, but there is mark of other's divinity on him. Can he be used? Those hunters..."
----
"That's what happened," said Kim Rok Soo.
Kim Seung Jong sipped his coffee. His eyes turned dark as his main consciousness descended.
Rok Soo immediately straightened. It's been a decade, and he still felt tense whenever his father's main consciousness appear. He knew his father won't hurt him, but his father's main consciousness just felt a bit detached to reality and it makes Rok Soo nervous.
His father's dark eyes flickered at him before focusing on something far away.
"Rok Soo. Bring the amulet starting tomorrow. That senior of yours seems interesting. And re-install Arrodes' app on your phone," and his father's eyes returned to the usual dark brown.
Kim Rok Soo frowned, "That's it?"
Kim Seung Jong just continue sipping his coffee, "What do you expect? 'He' is the God of Seers. You will never get any straight answer from 'Him'."
----
The Great Being hummed. 'He' looked through a marrionette sparrow 'He' left behind to watch 'His' son. Choi Jung Gun, someone who was supposed to be dead many, many years ago is now alive and healthy. A little too healthy.
The Lord of Mysteries knows of the Choi family. In a sense, they are similar to descendant of Angel family from many cycles ago. Some children might be born with similarity to their ancestor, and thus have similar fate if they chose to pursue their family legacy. But, considering 'He' never let beyonder characteristic to spread, it should be impossible for them to start that accursed fate.
Until 'He' remembers how Kim Rok Soo came to be. "A God from another world? Authority over death?" 'He' mumbled.
"It seems that Kim Rok Soo's original word is quite chaotic. And those trespassers," 'He' sighed.
"I can't do anything to those tresspassers until Rok Soo met them. Why is that kid kept getting involved in strange things? I still needs to prepare for that catasthrope too," surprisingly, 'His' choice to let a Parasite clone raised Kim Rok Soo did wonders to 'His' humanity. It was not as abundant as before he became a God, but it's still enough for him to enjoy the taste of coffee whenever he wanted to synchronized with his clone.
"Should I taught Rok Soo the bestowal ceremony? Not yet, let's do it later. It's not ready yet," behind 'Him', the Gray Fog stirred. Many lights glimmered while the grey fogs were infused in it. Those lights kept shattering into small dust particles.
"Just a few more years," the great being mumbled.
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#When Your Dad is a Pillar of the Universe#lord of mysteries#lotm#klein moretti#lord of the mysteries#cale henituse#trash of the count's family#tcf#lout of the count’s family#lcf
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Fics I Enjoyed in December/January
10 fics total. Includes fics from the following fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire, Avatar (Cameron), Black Sails, Hannibal, MCU, Our Flag Means Death, and Star Wars
The Favor of the King by thingswithwings MCU | T'Challa/Sam Wilson | 18k | Explicit
T'Challa – King T'Challa of Wakanda, the Black Panther, Guy Who Dresses Up Like a Cat to Fight Crime or Possibly for Other Reasons, Who the Fuck Knows – T'Challa corners Sam during one of their visits to check in on Bucky and says, in a mild voice that should not sound as threatening as it does, "We need to talk." "We do, huh," Sam says, looking him up and down. He's just a king and a superhero and a genius inventor and possibly the richest man alive, looking way too fine and wearing the hell out of a tailored three-piece suit; Sam can hold his own against this guy.
Free Folk to the Bone by Jennie_D A Song of Ice and Fire | Gen, Jon Snow/Ygritte | 82k (WIP) | Mature
Jon will admit he doesn’t know a lot of things. He doesn’t know who his parents are or what clan he was borne from. He doesn’t know what’s on the other side of The Wall, though he’s been itching to find out practically since he could walk. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever learn to be a proper warg, or if Mance will finally let him go raid kneeler villages with Tormund’s band this year. But he does know one thing; he’s Free Folk down to his bones.
Order Carnivora by husborth/@husborth Star Wars | Gen | 8k (WIP) | Teen & Up
In a universe where Leia is told the truth of her biological parentage as a child, she makes a deal to save the galaxy from certain destruction; she'll surrender herself to Vader if he'll destroy the Death Star. Between the galaxy and what he wants, there's only one choice Vader always makes.
The Spiral of Lives by Damkianna Avatar | Gen | 20k | General Audiences
The last thought he has before everything goes black is, Shit. An AU of the movie, wherein the Avatar Program never existed. [Warning: some in-character ableism.]
Gone To Port Royal by Apetslife Black Sails | Gen | 3k | General Audiences
Definition of Valhalla 1: the great hall in Norse mythology where heroes slain in battle are received 2 : a place of honor, glory, or happiness : heaven
Ad Utrumque Paratus by obeyingthemuse/@otmuse Star Wars | Gen | 39k (WIP) | General Audiences
It's hard to bring balance to the Force when the only method you've seen is your black-cloaked psychic cyborg sorcerer dad with a severe breathing problem throwing an old man down the Death Star reactor shaft. As much as Luke would like to see the not-yet-Emperor dead, he doesn't want to be arrested by his unusually attractive(?) war-hero dad and spend the rest of his indeterminate time in the past dropping Ewok beats in a jail cell. Also Leia would probably kill him. But not before breaking him out of jail. So when the twins wake up on Tatooine decades in the past, they play it safe. They take over a planet, reconnect with their adoptive and real parents without weirding them out (too much), and accidentally cause the Chancellor perpetual near-death experiences. Nailed it.
Where All Ladders Start by emungere/@emungere Hannibal | Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter | 43k | Explicit | Part 1 of Ladders
Will is slowly losing his mind in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He makes a deal with the devil to get out.
Whatever this is by equestrianstatue/@justlikeeddie Black Sails | James Flint/John Silver | 5k | Explicit | Part 1 of Combat
It was difficult to shake off the pervasive feeling of being permitted, even required, in the places that he most wished to be; and after knocking on the door of Flint’s cabin, Silver pushed it open without waiting for the call to enter. Flint had his back to him, but his head turned sharply at the sound. He was stood towards the stern of the cabin, by one of the gilted pillars, the hammocks newly-strung for the vanguard swinging gently beside him. “Oh,” he said, with no particular inflection, at the sight of Silver. Then he completed the action that his hands had been midway through: lifting the leather sword-belt from his waist and hanging it in place below a mounted candlestick. “What do you want?” (After Flint talks the crew round to bombarding Vane in his fort, Silver has some questions of his own.)
A thing of any relevance by equestrianstatue/@justlikeeddie Black Sails | James Flint/John Silver | 4k | Explicit | Part 2 of Combat
“You like this,” Silver said, and he allowed himself a grin, even though he knew it would earn him Flint’s arm pressing fractionally upwards, against his throat. Not hard enough, though, to cut off his voice. “Putting me in my place.” Flint’s eyebrows raised minutely. He looked down the length of Silver’s body, at the way it slouched beneath him, sprawled against the trunk; at the rise and fall of his chest, his hands curled loosely by his hips. Glancing back up, he said, “Not as much as you do.”
man on fire by Ajaxthegreat Our Flag Means Death/Black Sails | James Flint/Israel Hands, Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Israel Hands | 16k | Explicit
“Who the fuck,” Ed says, “Fucked you.” Or, we discover the consequences of jealousy.
#fic recs#fanfiction#mcu#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#star wars#avatar#black sails#hannibal#ofmd
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Who do you think out of the cullens Bella would be best with?
Personally I think Jasper, (maybe Carlisle). They both love books, they both like alone time, quiet time etc
Do you think if she was with someone else they would have said feck it and turned her instead of going through all that crap Edward made Bella go through ?
Not Edward.
Seriously though, pretty much anyone but Edward is a step up.
Though, that said, Edward is the only one who would engage in this sort of nonsense. Bella was this teenage, human, girl in one of the many towns that the Cullens visit. All the other Cullens are in (for the moment) stable relationships that they see as very healthy. Their eyes are not going to wander to seventeen-year-old Bella Swan who they barely meet.
We'd have to be deep in AU land for any other pairing to work out. Which, of course, would result in coven destroying drama (both from Edward as well as the rest of the coven).
But you didn't ask about that.
However, I suppose to be a completionist, we should do things in order.
1) Carlisle Cullen
Given that I've written fics for this, this is probably a gimmee. I've also written this post.
Bella's a giant emotional mess. This is what enables her relationships with both Jacob and Edward. Even had Edward not been Edward, Bella right now won't be good in a relationship. She has this tendency towards codependency and uses her significant other as a source of validation. Bella becomes somebody solely because she's dating somebody. This isn't good for her.
Carlisle is generally stable enough, emotionally mature enough, and shows enough insight to help Bella see this in herself and work through it in a way that other Cullens probably wouldn't be able to do.
He and Bella have one conversation and it's a surprisingly deep one. Granted, Bella completely ignores the vast majority of what he's talking about to fixate on "Edward's religious beliefs are dumb" and "Oh my god, he had green eyes" but it was a very memorable conversation.
I can see them really clicking.
Though it requires a significant amount of character development, AUness, and will be accompanied by so much drama and baggage you could drown a cat in it.
2) Jasper Whitlock
I've also done a post on this already. This will be accompanied by Alice/Jasper falling apart, which will also be a giant mess, but I think Jasper's in an awful place emotionally with Alice and there's deep potential that he and Bella can connect and help each other through a relationship.
Now, that said, if Carlisle bores Bella (and she sees him as Vampire Dad Man) then she just does not get Jasper at all. She believes he actively dislikes her for avoiding her. More, he's this very quiet, stoic, scarred man who is different than the other Cullens.
Bella the teenager, as of Twilight, is not in a position to understand who Jasper is and where he came from. She won't naturally gravitate to him.
But I do think he and Bella could have a very good relationship.
Though, again, enough drama to drown a cat.
3) Alice Cullen
A post on this.
Alice and Bella do already have an... emotional relationship that has the appearance of depth. Alice may have higher priorities, but she does care for Bella. If Alice sees Bella as a romantic partner, they would have a fairly easy relationship that neither Alice nor Bella would see anything wrong with.
Would Alice pull the shit she does with Jasper on Bella? Oh, certainly. And this isn't the basis of a good relationship.
However, Bella would be... stable in it and probably see nothing wrong with it. And it's something that's somewhat likely to happen without too much AU madness, which ranks it above others.
4) Rosalie Hale
A post on this.
If this could work out, and if Rosalie and Bella could both do a lot of self reflection and soul searching, then it'd be better for both of them than their current relationships (Rosalie/Emmett is generally great, but they also have significant issues).
However, the trouble is, Bella and Rosalie are unlikely to ever gravitate towards each other. They're such different people who want such different things out of life. Bella values nothing that Rosalie values and vice versa.
And just by existing the pair of them poke at each other's worst vulnerabilities. It's just... it's not going to work out.
5) Emmett Cullen
A post on this
Emmett's a very laid back guy and a good emotional pillar of support. He's been great help for Rosalie. However, his love for Rosalie speaks for itself. It's not so much about her, but more about her beauty. Emmett loves Rosalie because she's beautiful.
Emmett doesn't find Bella attractive. That's a nail in the coffin right there.
But mostly, he just wouldn't be what she needs. He wouldn't look for the depths in Bella and help her find herself. Which, for Bella, is crucial.
It's just not going to work out.
6) Esme Cullen
A post on this.
Esme first is deeply committed to her relationship with Carlisle and is also a deeply weird person. Esme is not ready for any other relationship than the one she has. This wouldn't be Esme helping Bella, it'd be the other way around, Bella would have to be a pillar of support as Esme's entire universe collapses.
Bella at seventeen would not be able to pull the both of them through. It'd be such a disaster relationship.
7) Edward Cullen
And Edward comes last because, well, read this blog.
#twilight#twilight meta#twilight headcanon#twilight renaissance#twilight shipping#bella swan#the cullens#edward cullen#anti edward cullen#edward/bella#anti edward/bella#alice cullen#anti alice cullen#alice/bella#emmett cullen#emmett/bella#anti emmett/bella#rosalie hale#rosalie/bella#anti rosalie/bella#carlisle cullen#bella/carlisle#jasper whitlock#jasper/bella#meta#headcanon#opinion#shipping
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thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.
continuation from here
note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa.
newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.
He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).
He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.
It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.
Has several cats.
He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.
Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs.
He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.
Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.
Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.
He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know.
Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?
Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.
Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys.
He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.
It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered.
“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses.
Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,
“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”
“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”
“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”
“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”
“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”
So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.
(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)
Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.
In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.
Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.
“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country.
“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan.
“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”
“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”
“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”
Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.
well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.
But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,
“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”
“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”
“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”
“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”
“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”
Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.
“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”
“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”
Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.
That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!
Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.
Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable.
Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.
Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.
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Part 1- Mouth to Mouth Combat
Pairing: cherik
Written for this prompt
Erik's empty stomach grumbles in protest. The digital clock on his monitor displays it's 2:30 PM, but he hasn't had a bite to eat since that morning. An ache has been steadily building in his head that throbs with every pump of blood through his jugular. Three ounces of coffee somehow hasn’t seemed to tame it. He needs something stronger. Something like nicotine.
He's mulling over how he wants to torture Sean for screwing up the third blueprint in a row when his phone begins to ring. Though he's set the ringing volume to the minimum, it draws the attention of his interns. Angel gets up from her seat with an excuse of locating a fallen pen while Sean leans back in his chair pretending to stretch his legs. Even though Alex’s eyes are stuck to the monitor, Erik knows that his ears are pointed in his direction. Utter bastards. At least Darwin is the only one in their lot who has the decency to pretend that he’s minding his own business. Pretend, being the key here.
Erik glares at all of them until they pretend to shrink back to work before picking up the call.
'Hello, aunt Ruth.’ He tries to keep his voice to a whisper, but it comes out as a growl. ‘No aunty, I'm not angry with you for calling. That's absurd- No aunty, I'm just at work. Yes, yes…. - yes aunty. You know I will. Of course, I will. Yes- I'm eating. He knows it too. What? This Saturday? Alright, I'll ask him if he's free. Yes, I'll bring him if he's free. Of course, I will.’
On the other end, aunt Ruth goes on berating Erik’s unhealthy eating habits without giving him a breathing pause while Erik nods and aquices to whatever she says. He’s just about to reassure her the third time that he’s been eating his meals on time when Azazel bursts into life in front of him with a hiss of air which overlaps with whatever Aunt Ruth says next.
Tapping on his watch, Azazel mouths the words: ‘Let's go.’
'Alright, aunt Ruth, I have to go now,’ Erik says, half getting up from his desk. 'Yes, yes. I'll check with him and text you. Love you, too… Bye.’
Pocketing his phone, he turns to glare at his sad-excuse of team members. Like a flock of birds dispersing at a pelted stone, they lung back to staring at the screen and tapping idle keys.
Azazel chuckles beside him as they head out into the roaring Genoshan sun.
The chicken roll they both take from the street vendor manages to vaguely quieten Erik’s stomach. He lights a cigarette after walking a short distance to the smoking zone in front of their office building. Floating the lighter to AZ, Erik sends out a text to Charles.
Hey, Aunt Ruth’s invited us to dinner on Saturday. You free?
The reply comes immediately, which means that Charles is on his free hour.
When am I not free for her cooking? Count me in! :)
While Erik sends aunt Ruth a text to confirm that both he and Charles would be coming for dinner, a second text comes from Charles.
Speaking of dinners, how does pasta sound for today?
Smirking, Erik takes another puff of his cigarette.
Are you cooking? Really?
Hey, my cooking isn’t all that bad. I’m decent. Well… mostly.
They both know that Charles’ cooking doesn’t come anywhere near the decent territory, so Erik doesn’t comment on the decency of Charles’ cooking or bring up the fact that he almost burnt the kitchen on three different occasions. Instead Erik sends out: In that case, A okay for pasta.
Stomaching substandard pasta is a small price to pay for being Charles’ roommate.
I assure you, my friend. You won’t be disappointed, comes Charles’ text followed by a grinning emoji.
The devil that he is, Az peeks into his phone and smirks. 'Taking to your boyfriend, huh?'
Erik rolls his eyes. 'Charles is not my boyfriend, Az. He's my friend, just like you are.'
Az shudders and blows out a cloud of smoke through his nose, the image rendering as the incarnation of Satan himself. 'Please, don't compare me with him.'
Erik supposes Az is right. It'd be grossly unfair to compare someone like Az with someone like Charles.
‘Hey,’ Az says, inhaling another puff of smoke into his lungs, ‘A friend of mine is playing at the pub downtown this Saturday. I’m going out with the boys. Wanna join?’
‘No, I’m going to aunt Ruth’s for dinner. You carry on.’
‘And is Charles going with you?’ Az asks way too innocently for Erik’s liking.
‘Yes.’ Erik agrees begrudgingly.
Az pins him with a look that spells out crystal clearly, see what I mean by boyfriends?
Erik barely restrains the urge to smack Az on the head. ‘He’s a friend and a roommate, Az. Nothing more.’
‘Really?’ Az asks leaning on a pillar, his movements gracefully feline; almost akin to a bored cat toying with a ball of yarn aware of the level of destruction it’s capable of. ‘Is that why you refuse to move out or is it because you prefer to travel twenty five kilometres to work?’
Okay. Erik will agree that travelling almost an hour to work is a bit of a hindrance. But it wasn’t a hindrance two years ago when Erik was looking for a place near the engineering firm he was interning at the time. He’d seen an ad on a communal mutant app asking for someone to share a two bedroom flat with. The man who had posted the ad, Charles Francis Xavier, at the time had been a freshly minted post graduate eyeing the position of a junior lecturer in the Genoshan university with a lease amount to a nice house too hefty to bear on his own.
The house itself was more agreeable to Erik and More importantly to Erik’s meagre stipend.
Charles had declared that he’s gay and a telepath the day they’d met, and that Erik should look elsewhere if he had a problem with either of those. In response, Erik had plucked the pen tucked into Charles’ breast pocket with his powers and had signed his half of the lease agreement.
Erik’s not an easy person to live with (and Az will enthusiastically attest to it). He’s weird and particular and controlling and territorial (And that’s just the first four entries on AZ’s list). He doesn’t know what to attribute it to, but living with Charles for a roommate is …. easy.
His living arrangement with Charles is comfortable. Charles doesn’t have any irritating habits. He isn’t stingy with money or particular with the groceries. He carries out his fair share of cooking and cleaning around the house. They take their turns doing the laundry and the dishes. What talent Charles lacks in cooking, Charles makes up for it in baking (And that’s coming from a man who hates anything with more than two spoons of sugar in it). He isn’t overly dirty or messy. Charles picks up after himself (except when he has finals or is in the middle of a research. The house is a dump zone for his tea mugs and their dining table is a disaster zone for papers during such bouts).
More importantly, Charles respects Erik’s boundaries. He doesn’t poke his nose into Erik’s business or needle Erik for anything he isn't willing to share. It helps that they keep their personal lives separate, too. Whatever flings he has, Charles keeps it outside of their shared home and Erik returns the favour. The only things they argue on are which show to watch on TV or which place to order in from. And all the times they’ve come very close to fighting are nights spent over a chessboard pitching points to and fro, for or against human-mutant relationships and ideologies. Erik would be lying if he said that he didn’t live for such nights.
In little over two years, Charles has become Erik’s best friend. And apart from Az (who’s more of a brother Erik can’t get rid of no matter how hard he tries), Erik doesn’t have many of them. So he doesn’t see why he should give up all of that for a few hours saved in commute to work.
Voicing any or all of it will only encourage Az to needle him more, so Erik shrugs and squashes his spent cigarette with the heel of his boot. ‘Come on, it’s getting late. I still have two blueprints to review before seven.’
Az groans at the mention of blueprints. ‘I have three to finish. God, Shaw will bite my head off my shoulders if I don’t complete it by today.’
With that, they move into the blessed cool of the air conditioned building.
Just before Erik turns on his monitor, a text alerts Erik (and by proxy all of his interns he shares his cubicle with). It’s from Charles and says: Got to get to my classes now. See you at home Erik! :)
See you at home, Erik sends and smiles to himself.
He just hopes Az doesn’t see it.
-
#cherik#cherik fic#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#roommate au#I’ve wanted to write this for so long now#you guys have no idea#jjcherik
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A Regular crack filled day hc with Jojo villains?😁 (Dio, Kars, and Kira?)
Sorry, I know that it’s not what you expected. Thank you for your request, sweetie💚
Some cracked and random jojo villains headcanons
Kars
When Wamuu was a little child he often played with Kars’ long hair. He gave the older man different kinds of ponytails and braids, braided flowers and ribbons in it, adding some golden hairpins and chains. And yeah, it looked good, but little Wamuu was clumsy and Kars felt like he was missing the half of his hair, that’s the main reason why he started wearing this weird thing on his head
He often wonders why do men have nipples. Like, they’re useless, aren’t they? And why would someone want to pierce them? Kars is really curious
Kars is sure that real attachment and love may be only between creatures of the same gender. Man and women love each other? - ha, bullshit. Real feelings may be developed only between women or only between men, the only exemption is parents’ love towards their child
Pillar men don’t need human food, they live on human’s blood. Kars has never liked sweets, some fruits like watermelon and apples taste good and he gladly eats them, but when he tried milk chocolate his inner world was thrilled, people really know how to create incredibly tasty food
Dio Brando
Dio is a big fan of makeup, he has a ton of cosmetic and practices in making himself pretty everyday. He spends hours doing his makeup, and then every time Dio sees his reflection in a mirror or in a water he just stares at himself thinking about how handsome he is
Dio never shuts up. He doesn’t even need a interlocutor or even a listener to talk to. All the servants and his minions were charmed by him, but also tired of his eternal bullshit
His mood swings are really something. Dio may be in a great mood, reading his favorite book and drinking wine and the next moment he’s pissed. When his subordinates ask about the reason of his tantrum Brando just gives them intimidating glare and orders to fuck off. The main thing is that even he doesn’t know why he got angry, and it angers him even more
When Dio killed Jonathan and took his body, he couldn’t believe that Joestar was really dead. He tried so hard to defeat him, and he finally did. That was also sad because Jonathan was smart and strong, he was a perfect rival and now there’s nobody who can actually challenge him. Sometimes Dio regrets killing his step brother
Kira Yoshikage
Well, we all know that Kira is a freaking weirdo, and because of his strange habits nobody at school wanted to befriend with him. Yoshikage tells everyone that it was his own decision to stay away from others, but deep down it still hurts Kira, he has a trauma😢
We all know that Kira is a huge cat lover and every time he notices stray cat, Yoshikage can’t just stay back and pets it. And if a kitty meows at him, Kira meows back. It confuses both blonde and an animal, but he won’t stop doing that
Every night before falling asleep Kira likes thinking about something. Tbh his thoughts are so chaotic, now he thinks about parallel universes and galaxies and just a moment later he tries to figure out an average weight of a seagull. He’s also that type of person who leaps out of his bed in a middle of a night trying to recall where his birth certificate is
After taking a shower Kira stared at himself in a mirror, poses and plays his muscles admiring his appearance. He even talks to himself in different voices - “Mr Yoshikage, you look stunning today!” - “Oh, Kira-sama, you’re so strong, you work hard on yourself, don’t you?”
Masterlist | Smut Masterlist
#yoshikage kira#kira yoshikage headcanons#kars jojo#kars headcanons#dio brando#dio brando headcanons#battle tendency headcanons#battle tendency#diamond is unbreakable headcanons#diamond is unbreakable#stardust crusaders headcanons#stardust crusaders#jojo villains#jojoke
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ABOUT FFXIVWRITE || FILLS TAG || AO3 MIRROR ☆
total word count: 32109 words + 1858w* longest fill: DEBONAIR - all i need’s a fraction of your happy heart (1888 words) shortest fill: SPECULATE - a mog by any other name (363 words)
see my ao3 mirror for full oc mention credits! * bonus round! surprise!
☆ || marked entries are ones i really like!
01. FOSTER: don’t fly the nest just yet lunya, linnet, colala, gyosei || post 5.3, maybe || 941 words no one wants to take the blame and lunya doubts she can be a parent.
02. ABERRANT: the eternal wind and the star traveler lunya/g’raha || genshin impact au || 574 words barbatos, g’raha, whatever he wants to be called—is kind of a weird god.
03. SCALE: out of sight and none shall see lunya & iris & lunya berithgar || pre-calamity || 659 words a young lunya learns the art of gutting fish.
04. BALEFUL: just a memory lunya || pacific rim au || 1113 words before she became a jaeger pilot, lunya lost her family.
05. CHERRY-PICK (extra credit): if you give a babycorn a mushroom lunya & babycorn & cherrypit || ??? || 829 words mushroom hunting shouldn’t be like herding cats, but here we are.
06. AVATAR: saturday night question ☆ lunya/g’raha || mmo au || 947 words g’raha tries a certain hit mmorpg with a free trial going up to level 60.
07. SPECULATE: a mog by any other name lunya, nyneve, tala || post-shb i guess || 363 words lunya is not sure nyneve deserves her archon marks.
08. ADROIT: and remember me, sweet bravery kotone & kanon || stormblood || 1415 words kotone comes home, but does she really?
09. FRIABLE: just to be seen by my eyes ☆ lunya & sirius || post 5.3 || 972 words lunya makes bug juice. harvesting cochineal doesn’t look right.
10. HEADY: would you sing it back to me? lunya/g’raha || post 5.3 || 872 words lunya would like one little sip of champagne. she deserves it.
11. PREACHING TO THE CHOIR: master’s mend lunya and «balefire» || the 7th astral era || 664 words a bit of rest has never done anyone any harm.
12. DOMICILE (extra credit): all of the answers, i’ve found in your eyes lunya/g’raha || post 5.3 || 793 words there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home!
13. ONEIROPHRENIA: in the rocking of the cradle ☆ lunya & sirius || pre-arr || 872 words yeyema doesn’t quite recognize herself in the mirror after the calamity.
14. COMMEND: the leash we could do lunya & friends || main street au || 1345 words dogsitting is easy when you're the one leaving the dogs with other people.
15. THUNDEROUS: bolt to the blue lunya & zaya & friends || post-shb, pre 5.3 || 921 words lunya and zaya take the wrong kind of notes from their meeting with noctis.
16. CRANE: ufo catcher my heart! ☆ lunya & mint & illya || modern au || 744 words three lalafell enter an arcade and only two leave because one got stuck in a claw machine.
17. DESTRUCT: the blessed rain after the drought lunya/g’raha || post-shb, pre 5.3 || 1440 words the kakushi are just clean up crew for the demon slayer corps, so why's g'raha being rescued by one of the pillars?
18. DEVIL’S ADVOCATE: wow, this is just like 1984! lunya & alphinaud & alisaie & emet || modern au || 884 words lunya has opinions. so does alphinaud. so does emet-selch.
19. OBLIVION (extra credit): mmo gamer rising: revengeance ryne/gaia & lunya/g’raha || mmo au || 1549 words let's go mid, lesbians, let's go!
20. PETRICHOR: in the middle of all of my justices ☆ lunya/g’raha || weathering with you au || 1032 words it'll take a miracle to save the first from drying up. the exarch knows where to find one.
21. FECKLESS: no, these days i tend to lie h’lios || pre-arr || 970 words not all coming of age stories involve patricide, but this one wants to.
22. FLUSTER: and you will never be lonely ☆ lunya/g’raha || howl’s moving castle au || 1263 words in another universe, lunya gets to be the senior citizen.
23. SOUL: if i knock on the door that entwines us together ☆ lunya/g’raha || soul eater au || 1284 words lunya is a meister and g'raha is her weapon. together they harvest the souls of evil humans, but today they wait for ice cream.
24. ILLUSTRIOUS: the party don't start til they get through my 50+ titles lunya/g’raha & friends || post 5.3 || 654 words between the ~25 of them, the warriors of light have enough titles to take up a whole guest announcement period at a ball. so they do.
25. SILVER LINING: a night's calling lunya & haurchefant & reese || post-dw || 1116 words haurchefant has some things he needs to clear up for the girl who saved his life.
26. TREASURE HUNT (extra credit): for the voyage is long and the winds don't blow melmeltan & coco & lunya || pirate au || 1593 words a bride flees her arranged marriage and winds up on a pirate ship.
27. BENTHOS: waltzing the waves, diving in the deep lunya/g’raha || aquarium au || 1188 words a little mermaid gets a new tail, and lunya loves her work.
28. BOW: covered in all the coloured lights lunya & zaya & friends || circus au || 1404 words you can't please everyone with tour stops.
29. DEBONAIR: all i need’s a fraction of your happy heart ☆ lunya/g’raha & friends || post 5.3, pre 5.4 || 1888 words rahapunzel, rahapunzel, cut your damn hair!
30. ABSTRACTED: eyes on me ☆ lunya/g’raha, majj, nyneve, theo || 7th astral era || 1820 words some meddling friends hold a miniature interrogation
+31. SUNDER: ride home lunya/g’raha || 5.3 || 1858 words if i were to tell you that this isn't the end—that we will meet again—would you believe me?
#ffxiv#final fantasy xiv#ffxivwrite#ffxivwrite2021#tales from the warriors of light#wheezes thanks everyone !#heres hoping that i get energy to reblog friendfics...#if theres errors in here im sorry im sprinting away
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Afterward - Part 13
A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic
Here’s how it works:
I’ll write a scene.
At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.
Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.
Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12
(Another landslide winner! #2 was the clear favorite. Thank you for voting!)
Afterward - - - Part 13
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“If you want to keep that hand, demon, you’ll release me. Now.”
Crowley, despite very much wanting to keep said hand, does not let go.
When Gabriel reaches over his shoulder, pulling his Heavenly sword from the aether, Crowley twists out of the way. “Woah, woah, woah - hey! Hold on. Just wait.”
“Just wait?” Gabriel snaps, voice dripping with incredulity. “Heaven is under attack, and you want me to just wait?”
“What about Beelzebub?”
“What about them? Maybe - just maybe it’s a bunch of demons who are fighting my angels right now!”
“That thing, whatever it was we felt - that was not demonic, you know it as well as I do.”
“Then what the fuck are my angels fighting?” Gabriel asks, his knuckles going white around the sword pulled halfway into existence.
From beyond the hall, the cries have grown louder, fiercer - more desperate. There is a static crackling in the air and the acrid, burnt smell of ozone.
Crowley, after risking a glance at the sword, releases Gabriel’s sleeve - and instead, grabs him by the wrist.
“Something,” Crowley hisses, “that was strong enough to bust into Heaven with one blow. Something that I’ve never encountered - and I once traveled all the universe hanging stars. Something that’s, by the sounds of it, carving through ranks of highly trained angelic warriors like butter.”
“That’s why,” Gabriel says, giving his arm a savage yank, “I need to-”
“That’s why you’re gonna want a bloody Lord of Hell in fighting shape!”
At that, Gabriel’s struggles momentarily cease. He blinks, scoffing, “You can’t seriously think-”
“I think that Beelzebub wants to live. And they - like Aziraphale and myself, are currently stuck in Heaven with you, a bunch of angels, and whatever the fuck that thing is. So be smart about this, you giant idiot. Save Beelzebub. Help us find out what they know. And maybe, just maybe we can all use Beelzebub, Lord of Hell, to help us get out of this god damned- er, blessed - augh - whatever! Predicament!” Crowley finishes, chest heaving.
It isn’t exactly a lie. While Crowley is certain Beelzebub, like a cornered cat, will indeed willingly fight whatever this thing is, he is not at all sure how battle ready old Beelzebub will be after just a handful of Hellfire.
But Gabriel doesn’t need to know that.
White knuckled fingers loosen their hold on the sword’s gleaming hilt. Gabriel sinks back. Running a hand up and over his face, he mutters to himself, and sharp, ugly curses fill the spaces between his breaths. When his eyes open, his razor-edge gaze zeroes in on Crowley’s hand. “Seriously. Stop touching me.”
Crowley’s hand snaps open.
“I won’t abandon my soldiers. Not now. Not when they need me,” Gabriel says, yanking his jacket straight. “So you’ll have to retrieve the Hellfire.”
Crowley, who had realistically expected this conversation to end with one of them flipping the middle finger and the other attempting to administer a beheading, takes a moment to process this development.
“I - wait - you want me to-?”
“Yes. Obviously. Shut up.”
“Right. Okay,” Crowley says, and shakes his head. “Wait, where-”
“Do you remember where the records are stored?”
Crowley pauses at that.
His memory of Heaven - it’s strange. In many ways, it blurs together, a mural of incandescent colors, textures, half-recalled musical notes, voices - that from up close, are nearly incomprehensible.
But there are moments of clarity. As if he has, for a second, stepped back a pace, and sees just a glimpse of the full thing; an expansive mural that his mosaic memories press together to create. He knows he hung the stars. And he knows, from some forgotten space in him mind, where in these white marble halls the records are kept.
“Yes,” Crowley says, because he can picture the room in his mind now: those twin pillars on either side of that tall, golden door.
“It’s stored on the highest level, in the silver chest,” Gabriel says, curt.
“Got it,” Crowley says, already retreating - because now that Gabriel has given him the information he needs, Crowley doesn’t want to go and give the archangel a chance to change his mind.
But Gabriel has already turned away. Black, polished shoes tapping smartly against white marble, the angel strolls down the hall and draws a gleaming sword out of the air.
Crowley is mentally mapping his route. He’ll need to take the first door on the right, then cross the atrium and -
Gabriel’s shout catches him before he can leave.
“By the way, I’m not an idiot, demon. I do know that a single jar of expired Hellfire’s not exactly going to do any demonic miracles.” Gabriel stands at the end of the hall, violet eyes bright in the half light. “And I know Beelzebub’s not going to help anyone anytime soon.”
Crowley stops, turning fully back.
Gabriel lifts the sword, jabbing the blade in Crowley’s direction. “After all this is done, I will be in touch. I expect Beelzebub to share the information they promised me.”
Crowley stares, baffled. “What are you-”
“No - nuh - shush!” Gabriel snaps, waving the sword. “In my room, there’s a passageway out of Heaven. It’s behind the tapestry. After you heal Beelzebub, take them and go.”
“Ohh-kay,” Crowley says, trying to wrap his mind around this second surprising development. “You - that’s - uh - huh. You know, that’s actually pretty nice of you, Gabriel.”
“Yeah, no - zip it,” Gabriel bites out, shifting with obvious discomfiture. “The last thing I need is anyone finding a couple of demons and a bad angel in my private rooms. Take Beelzebub and get out.” And with a final jab in Crowley’s direction, Gabriel spins the sword with a flourish and disappears into a beam of screaming light.
“What a nutcase,” Crowley says to the empty hallway.
He crosses the atrium at a sprint, keeping a careful eye out for angels - but the atrium and surrounding halls are empty. Heaven’s full forces have been mustered, then. It’s a sobering thought, and one that makes Crowley run just a little faster.
As he runs, he can’t help but think of Uriel and Gabriel’s conversation. God is….missing? Could it possibly be true? Crowley’s head tilts back, as if he might spy Her amongst the arched ceiling tiles stretching forlornly above.
She couldn’t be gone, right?
After all, where would She go?
The entrance to the Hall of Records is as abandoned as the rest of Heaven, and Crowley flings open it’s arched doors. The Records Room is - staggering. Crowley’s step slow as shelves and stairs rise up around him. His footsteps echo - from marble floors, between pillars, up winding stairs, and fading as they rise into the cavernous dome extending far, far above.
Crowley swears softly, and that echoes too.
As his shoe touches the first stair, he thinks of where he wants to be: the top floor; and when he reaches the second step, the domed ceiling is suddenly directly above him - and the top floor, bathed in gold, is before him, as though it had always been.
Crowley doesn’t have time for surprise or awe, so he focuses instead on the chest; which is sitting, unbothered, at the far side of the room.
He half expects some kind of booby trap, so when the silver lid slides unhesitatingly open, Crowley can’t help but flinch back.
Nothing happens.
Brows lifted, Crowley peers tentatively over the chest’s edge. There, at its center, sits a black jar. Sniffing the air, Crowley can just make out the slightest hints of sulfur.
Tensing, he reaches a hand in - and is relieved when his fingers close over the lid of the jar. He draws it out - and breathes a grateful sigh when no traps spring and no alarms blare.
Kneeling before the chest, he cracks the jar’s lid. When roaring heat surges forth, he snaps the lid back.
“Yep, that’s the stuff,” he says, and screws the lid tight.
Crowley takes the stairs at a run. On the first step, he thinks of the ground floor, and on the second step, he steps confidently into - a room stacked with scrolls.
“Huh,” he says, craning his head back to look at rich oak shelves and the layers of pale scrolls artfully piled upon them. “You’re not what I wanted.”
Deciding to try again, Crowley is turning back to the stairs when faded paint catches his eye.
He stops.
The mural is nearly entirely covered by shelves and scrolls. The visible section is a web of cracked paint and fading colors - a stark contrast to Heaven’s typically immaculate decor. But even faded as it is, Crowley can make out, clear as day, a Bentley - his Bentley, painted in peeling fresco.
Crowley blinks. Rubs his eyes. Squints, and blinks again.
“That’s....weird.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Rushing back with the Hellfire, Crowley has stumbled upon an impossible oddity in the Hall of Records. When faced with this strange omen, Crowley will…
Investigate. He doesn’t have much time to spare, but he can’t leave without uncovering the other side of this mysterious mural.
Leave. The mural is strange, but time is of the essence. Crowley can’t risk the detour.
Please comment or reblog to vote! I can’t wait to see what you all choose :)
Part 14
#good omens#my writing#ineffable husbands#ineffable partners#choose your own adventure fic#good omens choose your own adventure#aziraphale#crowely#aziraphale x crowley#good omens gabriel#good omens beelzebub
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None Like You (Ahkmenrah x Reader)
Description: You're the god of the forgotten, and upon birth you become friends with a prince. The bond is lifelong and beyond.
Prompt: Cat
Notes: Your name is Mahjur (again, because it makes more sense for those times rather than a modern name). Gender neutral again!
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21614689
Word Count: 25k
Warning: There is smut in this, and it IS underage. I regret writing it now, but it’s historically accurate, and I wanted to show the complexities of the relationship.
With a deep breath, your eyes opened for the first time. Standing over your lying form was a woman with the head of a cat, and she was smiling, seemingly happy with who you were. To your fortune you didn’t actually need to be taught very much - everything had already been instilled in your mind. Language, images, recognition, all of it you knew, and you knew how the universe worked.
“I have crafted you from the mud of this nile, the Aur,” she had said, and she introduced herself as Bastet, claiming to be your mother. You knew nothing else from experience but that, and you trusted her, which was a good decision on your part. “Your bones are made of alabaster and porcelain,” she said, and she warned, “be careful not to break them.”
You knew how the universe worked but humans were entirely new, with careful rituals that took hours to explain the history of. Beside your mother, both of you in a separate form of a cat, she showed you their inner workings, their worship, how you were one of their supposed gods.
“One day, someone will build a temple,” she said, leading you away from the small village. “They will ask for a god of something very specific, and when the time is right, you will know to come. Do not force yourself into any position.”
She showed you all of Kemet over the span of a month, and then she left you, having her own duties to attend to.
Not long after you found your calling, a young child building the smallest shrine on the edge of a village, asking for protection. She had been abandoned, so you came to her aid, and you blessed her with luck. That was how you found your own footing in the world.
All of that happened in very quick succession, so fast that you wondered how the many years ahead of you would fare. Only two months you’d been alive and you’d grown to quiet popularity. No one spoke aloud about you, thinking that speaking of the protector of the abandoned would bring bad luck, but they built shrines, dedications, sometimes even temples. The hushed word spread so quickly in fact, that you had a garden shrine in Memphis of all places, another two months after you’d found your title.
When you visited, it was in your cat form, staying in the shadows of the temple and watching servants tend to the various cats who had taken up hold in the shelter. It was a nice building, with a short staircase leading to an open area held up by magnificent white pillars. Alabaster stone, you noted, with red design painted on.
That evening, relaxing in the temple, a noise from outside disturbed you. You arose from your rest, nose twitching as you dragged the scent of lion out of the air. The fur of your neck standing up, you came from your spot to meet the animal.
“Hello, Mahjur,” the lion said in a low, growling voice, befitting his long and unruly mane. You did not respond, not fully sure of what to say. You hadn’t ever met this lion before. In fact, you hadn’t met any lion before, and certainly not one that could talk.
“I am Maahes, your brother,” he clarified, sitting on his hind legs, looking considerably more calm once he noticed who he was speaking to. “You are Mahjur.”
“Yes,” you said hesitantly, sitting down opposite him.
“You’ve made a name for yourself - deity of the abandoned. Is that all, though?”
“Can there be more?”
“Yes. Our mother is the goddess of many things. Cats, namely, hence our forms, but also of fire, sunset, dance, pleasure, the home, and… many other things.”
“You don’t remember, do you?” You asked, almost laughing.
“Shut up, you’re two months old, I’m at least three hundred.”
“I’m actually four months old,” you said.
“And have you even once strayed from your current form?”
You hadn’t, but he didn’t need to know that, so you just sniffed, pointing your nose upwards. He scoffed, shaking his head.
“I’m not here for petty sibling feuds.”
“Really? ‘Cause from the way you’ve been acting it seems like -“
“You’re insolent. Thoth has news for you.”
You stiffened. You didn’t have to remember your mother’s advice considering Thoth as you already had the knowledge implanted at your birth - he was, in essence, the god of knowledge. Noticing your state, Maahes continued.
“His only words were, ‘be wary.’ My own advice,” he checked to see if you were still listening, which you were, quite intently, “is to be open to everything. If someone asks you for help, acquiesce. If adventure calls, go, but do not stay still. Be wary. Most of all, be ready.”
“Thank you. I think,” you mumbled, your brow furrowed.
“Be safe. I’ve heard what Bastet made you from, and I don’t agree with the material use. You’re very small, and… flimsy.”
“Thanks,” you said again, more sarcastically.
With a grunt he was off again, jumping off the short ledge of the temple, wandering through the tall grass that the rivers brought.
Throughout the night you contemplated his words, his advice, and the overall conversation. Be wary, Thoth advised you, and it astounded you beyond reason why he would give advice to you. You were hardly known but, then again, you were thinking that as you sat in your temple in one of the largest cities in Kemet. And perhaps your brother was right, maybe you did need to spend more time in your human form. The whole cat thing was mostly for worship and easy travel, but human was supposed to be your main form.
You breathed deeply, taking in the scents you could, for your other form was subpar in that area of things, before switching forms.
Almost as small as you were before. Not really, but compared to the servants still outside of your hiding spot, you were pretty small. In the shadow of the pillars you went unnoticed till dawn, where it’d be painfully obvious that you were a human, and to them, not where you should be. So you left, taking to wandering the streets of the great city, mostly staying in market areas. The homes sort of creeped you out.
It was a lively area, filled with different cultures you had no idea existed, all with their own fabrics, spices, and history. In amazement you walked through the streets, stopping at every stall you could to see what different things they sold. Eventually you figured out that many places sold the same thing but in different quality, or from different places. It bored you, but it didn’t put you off too much, still wandering with a smile.
One stand in particular caught your eye, filled with glittering gemstones and carved bone decorated and molded into fine jewelry. The man who owned the stand smiled as you examined the goods, getting pushed every now and then by the passing crowd. As your eyes trailed over the different necklaces and rings you found a band, thick enough to go around your neck, made of solid gold.
“How much is this?” You asked, and he replied with a hefty price. With a whistle, you materialized the necessary amount of silver rings to pay for it. When the transaction was completed, the necklace was tight around your neck, hanging just below your Adam’s apple and rather heavy. You supposed you probably looked nice, but you couldn’t check until later.
Later that evening you found yourself being the holder of new titles, just as your brother had suggested the night before. Though you hadn’t officially ‘pronounced’ it (you had no idea how to do that) you wanted to be a deity of joy and innocence. This very sudden urge came to you as you watched a boy, older than you by around ten years, play by the riverside with a stick and three rocks.
He didn’t have much, but he was happier than any of the adults you’d seen walking the roads.
You’d later come to learn two things as you followed the child home: number one was that it was rude to follow people home without their consent. The second was that he was not, in fact, a bearer of very little, but instead a bearer of all the riches he could wish for, but it didn’t deter your fondness of the boy. He could’ve chosen from many of the vast gifts he was given but, instead, he picked up a stick and played with the fish. It swirled something inside you, and for the first time in your very short life, you smiled genuinely.
A few more days passed before you even thought to talk to him. In your cat form you could follow him unnoticed in his palace home, and that was how you’d learned in the first place that he was the prince of all of Kemet. It was also how you’d learned his name, and it was the same form you often watched him in. If you were to approach him, it’d probably be best to do so in a form closer to his age. Your current human form was a more average age of twenty, so you switched it around, making a younger version of it.
It then occurred to you, watching him in the safety of the reeds, that you had no idea how to approach him. You hadn’t ever had friends before. Would he be a friend? Were you allowed to have friends? More importantly, how did you make friends? You’d learned from watching that simply approaching someone could be weird and you felt far too anxious to do so.
With a twitch of your nose your form changed to a child, and with your thumbs not in your previous form, you picked away at the mud beneath your feet. Beautiful, fertile mud black with its’ own nurturing. Gulping, you decided that maybe, making friends just wasn’t for you.
He wasn’t doing much. Just kneeling there, one knee pressed into the dirt, arranging the rocks and mud to make a house but it was all too much.
You turned. The reeds brushed against bare skin and cloth as you tried to walk away in silence, but the motion gave away your position in the still of the evening. No wind, no excuse for the noise, and the boys’ head turned in sudden alertness, staring directly at you but not seeing you.
“Hello?” He said after a moment of waiting. “Is anyone in there?”
You just sniffed, your body shaking from nervousness and your hands clenched tight together. Your throat too tight and too thick to form any coherent speech.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said with a giggle, his voice turning from alarm to playfulness. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Still, you couldn’t seem to get your feet to move. So closer he came, wading through the mud and the reeds till he came face to face with you, the two of you now both hidden away in the privacy of the Aur.
“Hi! What’s your name?” He asked, his eyes bright with curiosity, beaming a smile that only served to make you more anxious despite its welcoming features.
“Mahjur,” you mumbled quietly, rubbing your arm with your hand, trying to create some sort of distraction for yourself.
“I’m Ahkmen. Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake. You looked him up and down rapidly, having never come this close to him before. Then you took his hand, trying hard not to grasp too firmly or too loose.
“I’m trying to build a house for this turtle. Want to help?” He asked, grabbing your now held hands and pulling you out of your safety. You tried to say something, only getting out stutters and half words as he sat you down beside him in front of the failing little mud hut. Beside it, a tortoise you never saw before, looking rather unbothered by her failing house. She looked perfectly contented in her shell, but you didn’t say anything. Children were fickle. Then again, by all accounts, you were a child as well. Ahkmen was older than you. By a lot.
“I can’t seem to get the mud to stay though. Not long enough for a roof anyways,” he sighed, stacking more mud on top and watching as it flopped back down onto the ground. Without really thinking you pressed two fingers to the little mud hut, blessing the house and its innocence so that it may stay upright.
“It should work now,” you said to him, still keeping your voice quiet. It seemed odd to use, having never used it for extended conversation before. He nodded, piling the dirt on till it made good walls.
“There we go,” he muttered, pressing his lips together in concentration as he worked.
“The roof… might want to make that out of grass,” you suggested, watching as the roof fell again to both your disappointments.
“You’re right,” he sighed, and the two of you grabbed at the grass, pulling it out of the ground and weaving it into a simple pattern. When the small square was complete, you placed the tortoise into the little hut and put the roof over it.
“It’s good you made a door,” you said.
“Wouldn’t want him to starve to death, right?”
“Her.”
“Oh, okay,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “Want to go to my house?”
“Your house?” You clarified, wondering if this was what friends did. And of course, you already knew his house was the pharaoh’s palace, which might not be the most welcoming environment for an unknown child.
“Yeah! It’s up on that hill,” he said, pointing to the palace in the distance, the regular white painted red and gold in the dying sunset.
“Nice house,” you noted as though you didn’t know.
“I think my mum will like you,” he laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you along. With stammering words and failing footsteps you followed, tripping over various things (including your own feet) before you made it to the entrance.
Stone raised a few steps off the ground, the entrance lined with magnificently large pillar ordained with paintings, murals, and carvings, all etched intricately by artists many years ago. Guards stood in waiting, pacing the halls in shifts to keep the royal family safe. Torches also lined the walls, and burning incense filled every room with intoxicating white smoke.
“Fancy,” was all you said as he took you to his room.
“A little,” he said, ignorant in his youth of the poverty the people he would one day rule were even now facing.
His room was just as fancy, gated with a large door that he had a little trouble opening. You helped, and with that you saw the grandness of his own quarters.
“That,” he pointed across the hallway to the opposite door, “is my older brothers room. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”
You nodded, thinking mostly about royal succession. Ahkmen would, if all went according to plan, not become pharaoh. Turning to your left, you were caught completely by surprise by a new piece of architecture you had yet to see anywhere else.
“Wow! What is that?” You asked, rushing out to the platform that jutted out from the rest of the building. Around it was a railing, keeping you from falling off, and from there, you could see the world. In the distance, the sun had just disappeared over the Aur.
“It’s a balcony?” He said, pushing past the billowing curtains you hadn’t even noticed before to stand beside you.
“It’s a beautiful view,” you sighed, breathing in the cool air.
“Yeah, it’s nice,” he replied.
+
“You’re quite smart,” he commented one day, a few months after your first meeting. He’d taken a shine to you, and you him, and you felt it to be the start of a wonderful, first friendship. “Especially for a baby.”
“I’m not a baby,” you grumbled, crossing your arms as he made his move in the game in front of you.
“Yesterday I tried to give you shoes and you didn’t even know what they were!” He laughed, leaning against his hands as you examined his move and strategy. You pouted, thinking mostly about how you were most certainly not a baby.
“Lots of people don’t know about shoes,” you said in quiet defense.
“But you must’ve seen them around? Maybe on your mother, or father?”
“I don’t have either of those,” you answered on instinct, a sudden pulse of fear going through you before you remembered it’d probably be better if you left it at that. In your child, human form that was always growing, you couldn’t say you had a family. You didn’t, except Bastet and Maahes, and people knew who those gods were.
“What about a brother or sister?”
“Neither,” you said, making your decision and moving the piece.
“No home then,” he murmured, and suddenly the game in front of you was forgotten.
“I stay at my temple,” you said, thinking there to be no actual reason to really hide your identity. Maybe it was your child brain kicking in.
“Your temple?”
“Yeah, I’ll show it to you sometime soon!”
You smiled, and awkwardly he returned it, and the game continued. Eventually he won, having been playing the game longer than you had.
Despite the fact that you’d been staying in the palace for several months, you had yet to run into his parents or his brother. He kept it that way, leading you away from more common corridors, grabbing your hand and bolting out of the room if any of his relatives seemed to be nearby. You never asked him why, as it always felt like an adventure, your heart pounding as you giggled, breathless on the floor after a sprint.
The many near abandoned hallways became well known to you, often unlit and uncleaned. Filled with old carvings and paintings from when they were once used frequently, before the building had been extended to fit more pharaohs and more gods. You didn’t mind in the slightest, coming to enjoy the feel of empty spaces filled with only your conversation with Ahkmen.
You had a temple, offerings, sacrifices. You had respect. An adult body. Godly powers. Sometimes you wondered why you chose to live within the palm of his hand. Then he’d grab your hand, pull you along, and you forgot to question yourself, only existing to laugh with him.
The day eventually came where he brought up the previous subject again.
“You said you’d show me your temple.”
You nodded.
“Haven’t done that yet,” he commented, earning a glare from you.
“Let’s go then,” you suggested, beckoning him away from the palace garden filled with greenery, through the hallways till you came to the streets, winding your way through before reaching the familiar alabaster steps of your temple. Cats still lounged freely outside, purring in the warm sun.
“Tajahul’s temple?” He asked, walking up the steps, you trailing behind.
“Is that what they’re calling me now?” You giggled as one of the cats rubbed his cheek against you.
“It’s a nice name. Not right I’m guessing,” he said as he rubbed his palm against one of the tall pillars.
“You know my name.”
“Mahjur? Shouldn’t this be the temple of Mahjur then, not Tajahul?”
“Yes, but I never gave my name, so it’s understandable.”
“I could tell my father,” he said, looking at you as he sat down. You sat beside him, cross legged as you both leaned against a pillar.
“Actually,” you said after a moment of quiet thought, “that’d be nice.”
“I’ll tell him I had a dream or something,” he plotted, a scheming look on his face.
“You mean lie?”
“I don’t really feel like telling him my new best friend is a new god.”
You snorted, covering your mouth as you laughed.
“Probably not,” you sighed.
That evening you were introduced to the rest of a terribly dysfunctional family. Not as a god, but as a friend. The whole table was set like a typical feast, and though your eyes widened as you entered the room, Ahkmen’s stayed relatively the same, so you safely assumed this was like any other dinner. Surrounded by guards and servants and fan wavers who all looked delighted to be serving their king.
The king, overall, looked bored, paying little attention to anything beside his food. The queen seemed concerned, glancing at her husband, only catching sight of you when she finally turned to face her two sons.
By sheer power of luck, the king was so disinterested in everything that wasn’t on his plate that Ahkmen could easily slip in the fact that you were staying in his room and have close to no reaction from his father. His mother didn’t seem so quick to accept it, but after seeing her husbands’ reaction, seemed a little more relaxed.
His brother sitting next to you said nothing.
+
Your friendship spanned many years after that. Over those many years, you hadn’t had one fight, agreeing to do terribly reckless things together. Each time, without fail, neither of you were punished. Unfortunately, you had sort of become the pharaoh’s third child - at least that’s how everyone treated you. However fortunately, the throne was not going to you. Never to you. Actually, you had suspicions it was going to your friend.
Kahmuh, which you learned was the brothers name, was in all essence of the word vile. Not even truly cruel or barbaric, merely childish in a way that made him unfit to be the royalty he was. Constantly screaming and killing slaves (a habit his parents tried to break him off, unsuccessfully, of course).
In every field you’d run through Ahkmen had been by your side, or you by his, sailing boats down the Aur and watching sunsets from his windswept balcony. The whole world was a newfangled wonder, a toy right in the palm of the pharaoh’s hand, and by extension, his sons’. Only his youngest son.
You found yourself feeling sorry for the older brother, the king to be, having to deal with a sibling far more successful and well liked than him. One evening, when Ahkmen was around 13 years old (and you around three years old, technically), you attempted to speak with him. Immediately he forced you out of his room, and you saw where his parents got their disappointment from.
“Don’t worry about him,” Ahkmen had told you later that night, his arm over your shoulder in a comforting manner. “He’s just odd.”
After that you payed little attention to his antics.
That was two years ago, that night you decided that maybe Ahkmen was the only friend you could have in the life you had chosen. Not that you would ever complain, life was a luxury you could afford to enjoy with him beside you.
A few days before his fifteenth birthday, the Pharaoh offered to take him on a sedan ride, to waltz him around town. At Ahkmen’s apprehension, the Pharaoh quickly explained how well guarded it’d be, how there would be fan wavers, and he could have every need attended. Not that he didn’t get that every day.
“Can I take Mahjur along?”
You looked up from your carving, a technique you’d been trying to recently perfect. It wasn’t going well.
“Yes, of course,” the Pharaoh said with a smile, nodding to you. You nodded back, a more bow of your head. He left after that, his hands folded behind his back as his guards followed him out of the room.
Ahkmen came up beside you, leaning against the wall and sliding his back down till he hit the floor.
“You’d almost think they forgot I picked you up off the streets,” he laughed, his head pressed against the back of the wall as he looked up, his eyes closed.
“Off the river, dearest,” you reminded him, your voice aloft from your concentration.
“What are you carving this time?” He looked over your shoulder, squinting his eyes.
“Trying to work on a face.”
“That’s a face?”
“It’s not done!” You whined, pulling the tablet out of his sight.
“I could teach you how to do hieroglyphs,” he suggested, leaning against you again anyways.
“It’s a bit fancy, isn’t it?” You said, still trying to concentrate.
“Come now, my parents are designing something and you could help them,” he said as he stood, pulling you up with a forceful tug of your arm. Your tablet clattered onto the floor, along with your carving tools.
“If you broke one of those, you owe me a new one,” you said glaring at him.
“Not a problem,” he laughed.
The next morning you did not take him up on his offer. You had a sedan ride that day, and though he’d requested for you to come along, you were reluctant. Slaves never settled very well with you, but Ahkmen insisted they were servants. Paid. You relented your pushing.
What was failed to mention was the exact number of chairs available for the ride. Apparently it was strange for a Pharaoh to own more than two at a time, so him and his wife could ride comfortably. Any more would indicate weakness, or something - you weren’t really listening, mostly caught up in the fact that you were now subject to several miserable hours out in the heat sitting right next to Ahkmen, all squishes up in that terribly heavy looking chair.
“It won’t be that bad… we’ve got fans,” he said awkwardly, shrugging as he looked just as uncomfortable with the thought.
“You’re wearing three layers and a wig. I’m wearing shoes. I hate shoes,” you hissed.
“You’re also wearing two layers of clothing, guilty party,” he retorted back with the terrible nickname, still glowering at you as he was seated.
“I -“
“Now come take a seat next to your husband,” he said with a smirk, patting the space next to him.
“One of these days,” you growled.
“Ah! Who’s the prince?”
You sat next to him, your arms crossed and shoulders tight as you both squirmed at the proximity.
“I’m not going to enjoy this.”
“No one said you had to,” he replied, sliding right into you as the chair was lifted onto the backs of eight people. You winced as you looked down, then in front of you, where the Pharaoh was being marched on a golden throne, surrounded by fans and guards.
“I suppose this is your day,” you sniffed, turning away.
“Thank you nedjem.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The heat of simply being next to him began creeping up your body all day, starting first at the thighs where you touched, whispering up your body, persuaded by the currents of the suns heat. Up to your hips, through your stomach and shoulders before burning into your cheeks, your already red face turning hotter.
“You look awful,” Ahkmen noticed halfway through the day, looking over with a concerned look.
“You look like a dream,” you mumbled, feeling like you were melting through your clothes. Certainly it couldn’t be that hot, right? And the heat wouldn’t explain your heart going haywire in your chest. It wouldn’t answer the weird numbness of your legs or the shaking of your hands, unless… you were having a heat stroke. That must’ve been it.
“No, really, let’s stop off somewhere, alright?” He put his hand on your cheek, testing how hot you’d turned, his face close up to yours.
You swallowed thick, turning away.
“I’ll be alright. We’re stopping at the temples, remember? I’ll be fine.”
“… Okay,” he said, looking like it was the furthest from what he believed but complying anyway.
In a few moments your breathing became under your control, the numbness fading into background fuzz and the shaking stopping all together. If you had, perhaps, been born somewhere near the year 2000 and gone to school, you would’ve had the experience and knowledge to identify what was a panic attack due to a crush. However you’d been born in Egypt, certainly not in the year 2000, and you had been born around three years ago. There was no telling what a panic attack was. Or a crush.
The day of his birthday you didn’t take him up on his offer to teach you hieroglyphs either, swept up in the chaos of the party. You were excited mostly for the music, till Ahkmen explained to you about the specialness of this specific party.
“My parents are bringing in a lot of wine for the adults. I haven’t been able to have it yet, but I bet it’s delicious. And,” he put his hands on your shoulders, staring intensely into your eyes and making you sweat, “I think we can steal some.”
“Wine? Why won’t they let you have any?”
“Apparently large doses of it make you a little dizzy, I’m not sure, but -“
“You do remember who I am, right?”
“I’m sorry?”
You hadn’t ever explicitly said you were really a god, not in a way of, “hey Ahkmen, I’ve been your friend since I was born, isn’t that weird because we met when we were both ten? Well I was born about four months before that point. I’m a god,’ instead more hinted at and replied to in a way that made it clear to, at least you, that you were a god.
“I can just summon wine if you want it,” you said, frowning. This solution was so blatantly obvious to you, but Ahkmen hadn’t ever shown interest in drinking wine.
“Yes I know, but it’s so much more fun this way!” He smiled wide and chaotic, rushing down the hall in his new, golden cape. You followed in your silver necklace, dangling low on your stomach, an expensive gift by your friend a few years ago.
Peeking your head past the corner and into the kitchen, you saw the bustle of chefs preparing food for the upcoming feast. Servants swarmed, perfecting the platters and carrying them out. Off in the distant corner, in a large water basket, sloshed red as blood wine.
“That’s a lot of wine,” Ahkmen gasped, his jaw dropped as it took a few servants to set it in the right place.
“That’s heavy,” you mumbled along with his amazement. “What’s your plan?”
“My plan?”
You nodded.
“Yes, uh, my plan. Well, um… they’ll have pretty much unlimited wine for the party, right? So we just wait for all the adults to get too dizzy to see us and then we sneak in and take a little!”
That was a terrible idea for actual results. No shock factor when the adults found it empty, no finesse except deceit, and there was always the chance that it’d be drunk dry before anyone got too dizzy at all.
“Alright,” you agreed anyway with a shrug of your shoulders, thinking it’d probably be safer if the two of you didn’t drink in the first place. Then again, you’d heard pretty good things about wine from your visits with your brother.
“Let’s go then!” He whisper shouted, careful not to be caught by the chefs as he bolted out, followed by a jumpy you.
It didn’t take long till the two of you were sat together at the head table, gorging on bull and bread, honey cakes and jujubes. All of it utterly delicious, but you still kept eyeing each other, attempting silent signaling for when either thought everyone was drunk enough. The plan was simple, gone over as the two of you ran to the table. Sneak back into the kitchen, there was a whole vat of it there, and all the chefs and servants would be too busy serving everyone to notice.
“This is going to be so much fun,” he giggled, the two of you kneeled side by side, watching the kitchen door from a safe distance.
“Take your cape off, it’s getting in the way,” you mumbled, already undoing the material falling from his shoulders.
“Hm. I thought it looked cool,” he said as he beckons you, slipping past the leaving chefs.
“It does,” you whispered into his ear, your hands on his shoulders as you stood behind him, scanning the room as you kept low.
Keeping close to the furniture you made your way, making sure that no server was coming to refill their cups for serving. Once you realized all of the servers had gotten a refill you jumped, opening up the wicker lid as he grabbed two large cups.
“Aren’t these for serving?” You asked, playing with it in your hands.
“All I could find, hurry up!” He hissed, dipping his own in and pulling it out, running out of the room as soon as you’d done the same.
The two of you giggled all the way back to his room, as though you’d committed a heinous crime you’d never get punished for. In your mind and his, you surely had. You wondered, sitting on his balcony as the stars reflected in dark red wine, if you’d ever get caught. With your legs dangling, you wondered if you’d ever tire of him.
“Do you think you even can get dizzy from this?” He asked, looking at you with a curious frown.
“What, just because I’m a god means I can’t have fun?”
“No, just… biologically speaking.”
You hummed, raising your eyebrows and wondering just as he did.
“Considering Sekhmet could, I think so, but... let’s find out.”
The rest of the evening was spent in an alcoholic haze. Turned out you could get drunk, much to the joy of Ahkmen and the surprise of you. You’d thought with being a god perhaps it’d take it at least a little bit easier on you, but to no avail. When you woke up the next morning, your headache was just as bad as his, and neither of you could recall how you ended up in each others clothes.
“You know, my clothes don’t look that bad on you,” he commented with a smirk, biting his lip in a funny looking way.
“Shut up, will you?” You had huffed.
+
It wasn’t until a few weeks that you took him up on his offer to teach you hieroglyphics. In that time, you’d looked back at the different ones adorning every surface of the palace, finding them to be a sort of art. Your growing interest and his parents beginning to shower him with far too much attention to punish his insolent brother made the both of you desperate for some excuse to spend some alone time together.
“What am I designing anyway?” You asked as he sat you down at the table in his room, papyrus and pen in front of you.
“Not yet. That’s for when you can actually write in this,” he said, giving you another sheet of papyrus with the whole of the main hieroglyphs on it.
“Yikes,” you said, pulling the sheet closer to you. “That’s a lot of drawings.”
“It gets worse!”
“Fantastic, why am I learning this again?”
“Don’t you want to help with my parents design, nedjem? I heard it’s going to be for me,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder.
“Everything they make is for you,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as he began the lesson.
It started at one lesson per week, but in a second that was decided it wasn’t enough time, so it was upped to one lesson a day. Then his parents came swooping in even more, his brother beginning to target terrible pranks on him and you, and relatives tried to earn his favor so badly seeing as he was the favorite, that he begged you for two lessons a day.
“Three,” you said.
“Yes,” he sighed, a relieved smile bright on his face.
Three lessons a day and you began to get the hang of it quickly, what each image symbolized and how it worked as not an alphabet but an art. While most of your days were spent inside at his table, going over things and learning how to stroke in just the right way, sometimes he’d take you out. Around town, no guards, the both of you adorned in more common clothing, though you insisted on keeping your gold neckband.
“Didn’t they teach you this stuff in, I don’t know, god school?” Ahkmen leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as your finger pressed into the painted hieroglyphs carved in the walls.
“I was born with holy knowledge. My mother filled in many human traditions. But language is so fleeting to gods, she didn’t think it was important to teach me this formal writing.”
“That’s dark,” he mumbled uncomfortably.
“Oh.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Learn to,” you chuckled, looking over at him to find him smiling right at you. Grinning, actually, a little dreamy like. You snorted, shaking your head as you read out what they were saying. Mostly stories, talking about your own relatives or other gods. A whole lot of Ra.
On the walk home, the sun barely touching distant hills, you confronted what it was you were really learning this all for.
“Could I know what this tablet that I’m doing is?”
“My father is making a tablet out of gold. It’s supposed to be connected to Khonsu. We were both wondering if you could do the design; he thinks you’re artistic, I think you’ve got connections so you could use some extra special hieroglyphs or something. What do you think?” He asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with you just as always. He was beginning to grow taller.
“Sounds good. However I don’t think I can call up Bastet for what will probably sound like a school project to her,” you laughed, and he nodded with a chuckle.
“I understand. I’m sure he’ll like whatever you come up with either way.”
After that day you had considerably less time on your hands. The lessons had stopped, yes, but the Pharaoh had decided his sons, and you, needed training. Specifically weapon and hand to hand combat training, ‘just in case,’ as he put it. Out of the three of you, Kahmuh was probably the most excited, and you the least. How could you be the deity of innocence if you were off punching people in the nose?
You didn’t argue with it though. Of course, you and Ahkmen complained to each other behind closed doors, but never to his fathers face. That’d be certain death. When Kahmuh joined you, ranting about how ridiculous this whole thing was. Even if he was the most excited didn’t mean he was at all looking forward to it. It was out of the three of you, meaning the standard for most excited was quite low.
“It’s foolish! We’ve got guards! I’m going to have at least fifty guards surrounding me at all times when I become Pharaoh!” Kahmuh exclaimed, pacing in front of you and Ahkmen as the two of you sat against the wall.
“Besides, that teacher he’s having teach us? I’ve heard terrible things about him,” Ahkmen added, crossing his arms.
“Really?” You leaned forward to look at him better. “What sort of things?”
“He’s really strict, supposedly,” he said.
“And ugly. Violent too, I bet,” Kahmuh growled.
“I thought you liked violent,” Ahkmen said, shifting his position.
“Against you? Yes. But against me it’s horrific. I won’t stand for it,” he hissed, marching out of the room. You and Ahkmen looked at each other, brows raised in a questioning stance.
“What a funny man,” you said.
“If you could call him a man.”
“Oh,” you tutted, elbowing him gently. “Don’t be rude.”
The next day, bright and early the three of you found yourselves in a large, stone courtyard. Laden with statues and pillars, standing taller than the heavens and glaring down at you. You stood in a straight line, chests puffed out and hands at your side.
Neither of them had been joking when they’d said that this instructor man was ugly, and though he hadn’t said a word, he looked very violent, and the way he jammed his staff into the ground showed just how strict the next few months would be.
“You three are used to a pampered life,” he finally said, starting off his speech like any stupid fighter would. “And I - I didn’t know there were three of you.”
“Does this mean I can leave?” You asked, still keeping your position.
“No! Now, do any of you have any basic weaponry training?”
“I’ve stabbed a few people,” Kahmuh said, looking particularly and unsettlingly bright. You knew all too well he was remembering all those slaves he murdered… or maybe Ahkmen had embellished the story.
“Hasan jiddaan,” the instructor said in a cooler voice. “My name is User.”
“Typical,” Ahkmen whispered to you as his back was turned. You almost snorted before remembering you might get caught.
User went on to explain the rules of combat, of fair play, and how to maintain an upper hand while playing cool. He kept you intrigued, though your feet hurt from prolonged standing, and he kept his voice quick and sharp. To the point.
Once he had fully tired all three of you out with his lecture on ethics in battle to the point where at least three or four hours had passed, he gestured to the rack of weapons behind you.
“There you’ll find bows, spears, daggers… maces. I want you to pick one that you’ll master.”
Your fingers danced across the rack, deciding spear and dagger were too violent for you in a bloody way. The maces had beautiful designs, colored gold and black, but still too violent.
“There’s a sling down here,” you noticed, crouching down and tugging on Ahkmen’s skirt.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to choose from that shelf,” he mumbled, picking out a bow and returning to his position. Looking to your left, you saw Kahmuh had already picked out a long, black dagger.
“User,” you called, “can I pick a sling?”
“Yes,” he answered simply, and you grabbed it, standing back in line.
While you and Ahkmen fiddled around with your newfound weaponry, User grabbed Kahmuh for a more private lesson.
“This’d be so much easier if you all just picked the same weapon,” you heard him grumble as he pulled the older away.
“What do you suppose we do now?” You asked, sitting on the floor with your legs splayed out in front of you.
“We could fight each other.”
“That sounds horrible. I could never hurt you.”
“Even if I hit you first?”
“Never,” you said with finality, crossing your arms.
“Look at you. You look like a pouting child,” he laughed, crouching beside you.
“And - and you look like a, uh,” you turned to look at him, coming nose to nose with his smiling face.
“Like a what, darling?”
“Like a - a very handsome, very spoiled prince,” you attempted your insult weakly, having it fall flat as he smiled even wider.
“Why thank you.”
“Would you stuff it?”
“Oh come now,” he grunted as he sat beside you, leaning his hand against your shoulder uncomfortably as he was now taller than you. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I didn’t either,” you mumbled.
“You didn’t mean that I was handsome?” He asked, looking up at you with wide, doe eyes.
“You’re absolutely awful, I hope you know that,” you hissed, feeling your face shoot up to the temperature of the sun.
“I do, you remind me every now and then. You still love me though,” he laughed, resuming his relaxed position on your shoulder.
“Sure,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sling in your hands.
The classes from that day forth weren’t as tiresome as they were annoying and dragged out. Why the two others had to wait while one person got their lesson was beyond any of you, but it did bring you closer in shared pain. It was usually right before lessons that Ahkmen and Kahmuh got along the most, whining and grumbling to each other about how sore they were from their previous lessons as you stayed behind them. Other times they returned to their fierce sibling rivalry.
Eventually, once you’d gotten a handle of your weapons, you started on hand to hand combat. That was less fun, the repetition of moves boring the hell out of all three of you as you all punched the air in unison.
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never felt more humiliated,” Kamuh whined.
“Really? This outranks the time you slipped in the mud and flew about fifty feet down that hill and into the Aur?”
“Would you stop bringing that up?”
Then came the sparring. Months after the lessons had originally started User thought the three of you were ready enough for one on one sparring, practice for real life battle. It was certainly interesting, watching the two brothers fight in an arena meant for fake fights. The way they fought always felt far too real, their punches too strong and succinct.
“Kahmuh, relax, I think he’s done,” User stopped his movements with a flick of his hand. Ahkmen was on the ground, backing up from his brothers punches as he kneeled above him. You sat at the edge, eyes wide as you willed yourself away from interfering.
“Take a break, Ahk. Mahjur, face Kahmuh,” he said, beckoning you from your place. You swallowed thick, readying yourself as you stood face to face with the boy who had a violent fire alight in his eyes, a residual burning from the attack he had just done.
Once User raised his hand to begin, Kahmuh launched at you, immediately going for a punch to the face. You blocked, throwing his hand off and attempting for a jab to his gut. While he kept his hands in fists, you kept yours straight, for more of a sharp motion than a blunt. You hit your mark, and as he keeled over in just the slightest way you kneed him in the chin. A dirty move, but he stepped on your foot after it, and considering he wore sandals and you didn’t, it hurt a lot. Still you kept your ground, attempting to block every one of his moves and trying to hit some of your own.
Sure, if you used your godly powers the boy would be dead in a second, but that wouldn’t be much fun for any of those present.
Eventually, due to his sheer skill in fighting he won, throwing you to the ground with a sweep of your legs. User stopped the fight from continuing right at that moment, instead of letting Kahmuh finish it as he had last time.
With deep breaths you hauled yourself to sit next to Ahkmen again, puffing your hair out of your face.
“Intense,” you huffed, leaning against the wall.
“I have a feeling these next few weeks are going to be torture,” he mumbled in reply.
“Hey, look on the bright side. If we get better, we can beat him up!”
User, in all his wonderful mercy, let you rest before calling you up again, standing you in front of Ahkmen. He raised his hands, and neither of you did anything, completely confused.
“Hey!” He snapped his fingers in front of your faces. “Start!”
“What?” Ahkmen looked between you and User, just as confused as you were.
“This is a sparring arena. Why do you think you’re in it?” User glared at him.
“You want us to fight? Each other?” You asked, eyes wide and mouth hung open in astonishment.
“Yes!”
You burst out laughing, followed in succession by Ahkmen, who held his stomach as he belted out a laugh.
“We’re not going to -“
“Now!” User snapped, and you jolted back into position, looking warily at your friend. He sniffed, eyeing you as if to say he’d take it easy.
You moved first, aiming a weak punch at his chest that he easily blocked. In return he attempted a hit just as weak as yours at your shoulder, something you learned could disarm. You dodged, successfully hitting the side of his stomach with your elbow. When you hit, he laughed, and you felt yourself get into the motions once more. Hit, but not too hard, dodge, and prove yourself to be better. Thinking of it more as a competition than an actual fight helped you as you moved.
When you tried to land a blow to his shoulder, he grabbed your wrist, and in a flash he twisted it behind your back. You gasped in pain, barely even feeling his other arm pressing your back against his chest. However, you could feel his heart beating fast, beating right into your skin.
“Ahkmen wins that round. Good job - go get cleaned up. We’re done for today,” User said, dismissing the three of you.
As you walked the steps back up to the palace and hopefully to the baths, Kahmuh gloated his victory.
“Wow, you won against two people who couldn’t care less about fighting,” you said sarcastically, waving your hands like it was a big deal.
“You’re just jealous,” he said in a stiff manner, sticking his nose up in the air and running ahead of you.
Slowly, you and Ahkmen made your way into the bathing room, being greeted with steam clinging to your skin and servants at your hand.
“Come, let’s bathe together,” he asked of you, tugging the wrist he had twisted earlier. You winced as he pulled, stumbling closer to him.
“Why?”
“Well we can certainly see each other easier then.”
You shrugged, agreeing. Most of the people you’d met were casual about nudity, but for some reason you couldn’t find yourself sharing the sentiment. It was the reason you wore a cover over your shoulders and chest as well as your legs. All of that was stripped before you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water with a relaxed sigh, feeling the alkaline and juniper perfume relax your muscles and sore bruises.
With closed eyes you hardly noticed Ahkmen slipping in opposite you, sighing in a just as relaxed way as you did.
“See? Isn’t this fun?” He giggled, leaning forward and putting his hand on your lower leg.
“Something along those lines,” you mumbled, sinking deeper into the water to mask your reddening face. A servant pulled you up by your shoulders, tugging the wig off your head to tend to your actual hair which was much shorter. You looked away from your friend, feeling embarrassed to have him see you like that. Usually you didn’t bathe together, so it was rare that he saw you without the wig.
Ahkmen’s hair, in your opinion, was much more attractive than the wig he wore. Sure, it was short, but it was lighter and curlier, and sometimes you felt the urge to push your fingers up into it. Just to test how soft it was, because at least it looked soft.
“Here,” he said suddenly, opening his hand out to you.
“What?”
“Your wrist!” He grabbed your bad wrist, pulling at it again and making you wince. “Sorry,” he mumbled, dipping his fingers into a bottle of honey and slathering your wrist in it.
“People say it’s supposed to help,” he drawled sweetly as servants tugged at his hair, pouring water over his head. You watched, blood running thick through your veins as they did so, feeling his touch on your wrist far more intensely than you should have. “I don’t know how much I believe that, but it couldn’t hurt. Probably.”
You hummed a distant agreement, barely feeling your own hair being tugged from your scalp.
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he apologized, looking up at you with those doe eyes of his.
“We were fighting. It’s not your fault,” you said, feeling the hands leave your head as the servants departed for a moment. He nodded, silent for a moment before speaking.
“Mahjur, you’re… a god. Do you… do you know much about, uh, sex?”
You choked on your own saliva. No, you absolutely did not. Your mother may have been the goddess of fertility but so were fifteen other gods and goddesses and you were not among their ranks.
“Actually I know nothing. Nothing at all. Why?”
“Mm. No one’s bothered to talk to me about it, but I pick stuff up. I think it starts with kissing.”
“Sounds fun,” you said, feeling like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world.
“I wouldn’t know, haven’t done it yet.”
“Really? Aren’t you fifteen?”
“Shut up, would you?”
“Anyway I’m…” you rubbed your wrist, “I’m actually surprised you didn’t break my wrist.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s made of porcelain. Not the best material for bones, but Bastet said she had to work with what she was given, and apparently that wasn’t much,” you sighed, leaning back in the tub.
“Why have you waited five years to tell me this? I could’ve killed you!”
“I just remembered it!”
He threw his hands up into the air with a loud groan, splashing you as he did so.
“Let’s get back to your room, you can yell at me there,” you laughed, grabbing a towel on the floor and drying yourself off.
“I’m not mad, I’m concerned,” he replied indignantly, grabbing his own towel.
“Alright, mother.”
“I’m not your mother!”
Back in his room, he continued to pester and fret over your newly remembered state of fragility. You continually tried to tell him you’d been fine so far, and that you had not yet died, but it did little to comfort him.
“But you could,” he insisted. “What would I do without my best friend?”
“Experiment by yourself, I suppose,” you suggested weakly, sitting on his bed as he paced.
“Experiment on what?” He asked cluelessly, looking at you wish his hands on his hips.
“With your - weird sex thing you were talking about earlier,” you said, waving your hand through the air and whining when you twisted your wrist wrong again.
“You’re implying that if you’re alive I’d experiment with you,” he said out of the blue, suddenly in front of you, stating his aim clear as day.
“Wh - what? I, ha, I don’t know about that, I, uh, just - I -“
“It’s alright if you didn’t mean that,” he said quickly. “I just thought it’d be easier to have someone with a bit of shared experience.”
Well, you did do practically everything together. Maybe this would just be another one of those firsts.
“Uhh… yeah, no, it’s fine. It’s alright, I just - I’ve still got weak bones.”
“I don’t think I’ll forget that anytime soon,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner wrist. You hummed weak, high in the throat.
“I still don’t know anything about sex,” you told him as he took off your clothing.
“Neither do I. This is just - from all that weird porn stuff you see in the temples,” he said, putting your skirt and shawl in a folded pile along with his own clothing.
“You actually look at that stuff?” You asked as he pushed you down on the bed.
“Sometimes. It’s good art, you know,” he said, kissing your neck.
“Oh! Uh, I never, uh, mm, never really payed attention to it,” you mumbled, the words catching your throat when odd noises jumped from your chest and through your mouth.
“I’ll take you to see them sometime,” he said, his hands moving lower to your hips in slow caresses as his lips continued kissing at your neck.
“I think I’m good actually,” you laughed awkwardly, your whole body feeling like it was about to fly off at any moment. He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations having a calming effect on you.
“I still don’t know what I’m doing and, I don’t know if sex with a, uh, not human will be different. Do you have the same genitals as us?” He asked, still not knowing what female genitalia looked like.
“I… don’t know? Guess we’ll find out,” you shrugged.
“Just like with everything. Not one damn teacher around,” he rolled his eyes and laughed, moving his hand between your legs. Something sparked down there as he did so, warm and shocking.
“That - that’s good. For some reason,” you added awkwardly to the end, looking up at him. He smiled, moving more decisively as he leaned down to kiss your nose.
“We’re having fun,” you joked, watching as he palmed at his own erection.
“Don’t we always?”
“Not always. Remember when you pushed me into the Aur right as we were getting into the deep part?” You held back a moan as he circled some sort of hole you had down there.
“I’ve told you a million times and I’ll tell you again, it was an accident,” he said, his brows knitting together as he rubbed himself up against you.
“Oh,” you said, the sound involuntary as the new feeling came around you.
“Oh come on, I haven’t even put it in yet,” he frowned at you, wondering if you were alright.
“Put it in?”
“Yeah, like this,” he said, pushing his dick into you. The most incredibly, full feeling ran up your stomach, running sparks through your fingertips and eyelids as you shut them, a pleasant hum ringing in your throat. You barely processed him feeling just the same above you, leaning on his elbows right above you.
“Right. Put it in. That’s… that’s what that means,” you murmured, grinding your hips down.
“Ah, don’t -“ He grabbed your hips, stilling you. “Feels good. Just let me, uh…”
Turns out, neither of you really knew what to do. So he did what felt good; he pulled out and pushed back in, a weirdly wet sound coming from the motion.
“That sounds bad,” you commented, trying to push moans back down into your chest.
“Felt good,” he shrugged, repeating the motion, dragging hums and sighs out of both of you.
“Can’t argue with that,” you murmured, your lips barely on the skin of his shoulder as he continually thrusted into you, soft and gentle. The feeling of skin on skin alighted warmth within you, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the moment. You wondered for a moment if this meant that maybe you couldn’t be a god of innocence, but when he kissed your neck tenderly again, you decided there was nothing more innocent than childhood experimentation and love.
Could you say love?
+
“You probably can’t get pregnant,” he said as the two of you laid down on his bed, a few days after that evening spent together.
“Hopefully not,” you mumbled, scratching your head.
Love. It was such an intense word, so selfish and selfless, absorbing all your time and effort into the protection of just one person. The more you thought about it, you wondered if maybe you’d loved him the whole time. Of course, there many definitions of love, not just romantic, but you knew at this point that it wasn’t just friendship. Probably. Humanity was odd like that.
“Ahkmen?”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever been in love with anyone?”
“If I ever do, you’ll be the first to know.”
Because it’ll be with me?
You shook your head, pressing your lips in a thin line.
“I don’t think I even know what love is.”
“Of course you do,” Ahkmen said with a frown, sitting up. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “You love the water. The tortoises, and the grass, you love the sky. You love looking at art, and I know how much you love cats, and I’m sure you love your mother.”
“I do enjoy all those things. But is it enough to be considered love? How do I know what I’m feeling is really real? What if I really am some emotionless god?”
“Those are questions even humans ask themselves,” he comforted softly, scooting closer to you. “But… I think you do love those things.”
“Mm.”
“And you love me.”
Of course you did.
“I don’t like being an adult,” was what you said instead. You weren’t even adults yet, still at the ripe age of sixteen. Well, Ahkmen was sixteen. You were six. Technically.
“Why?”
“Too many complicated emotions.”
“Is this because I said you love me?” Ahkmen asked with a sigh, lying down beside you closer than he was before. “If it makes you feel better I love you.”
“As a friend, right?” You asked too fast for your own liking, looking over to make eye contact with him.
He shrugged.
“Why define it?”
You looked back up at the ceiling. Maybe he was right.
“Come now, we can’t spend all day in bed,” he said with a jump, patting your leg as he got to his feet.
“Please?” You asked, pouting.
“You’re such a baby.” He rolled his eyes laughing, dragging you off his bed. “There’s much we can do today. It’s been a while since we’ve gone through town, I want to get you something nice.”
You chuckled, coming to your feet and leaning tiredly on him.
“Okay, but I’m not agreeing to this because you’re getting me something. I just don’t want you to leave without me,” you sighed, trying to stand on your own. He put his arm round your shoulders, waltzing you out of the room.
“Lots to do, so little time!”
It was a surprisingly cool day. The sun didn’t hit quite as hard, though shining just as bright as usual. Cool breezes flew in from the north, and for a few hours during midday you were worried your wig would fly off into the distance. Luckily it stayed put, but you couldn’t say the same for your sanity.
He’d been so terribly close to you all day. Never mind the fact that you already stood uncomfortably close, verging on unbearable during hot days, but what was soft touches of knuckles brushing together was now your palm over his, from simple proximity. Not even from the actual act of holding hands, it was simply because he was standing so close to you it was near impossible to identify the difference between you.
“Should we go swimming?” He asked you, sitting on the edge of the boat, his legs dangling beside yours.
“Sounds dangerous. And it’s not very appropriate anymore,” his mother told him softly, not leaving her husbands side as she spoke. Ahkkmen looked at you, half rolling his eyes and half grimacing. You snickered, elbowing him lightly.
Later in the afternoon you trekked around down with his father, surveying temples and offering meager sacrifices which were more for show than actual use at this point. It wasn’t long till you came to your temple, and as Merenkahre did his duties, you and Ahkmen giggled in the corner.
“So - so there’s. There’s a lot of cats here,” he noticed, gesturing vaguely at the lounging cats. “Can - do you have a cat form?”
“I, in fact, do. It’s been a while actually. I’ll -“ his mother looked at you sternly, “I’ll show you later,” you finished.
The eventful day of town travel ended with a full meal, and a giggly trip back to his room.
“I haven’t felt this good in ages,” you laughed as the doors shut, feeling as carefree as you ever cold.
“Well there has to be a reason for that,” he fumbled, biting at his lips as he collapsed on a seat, staring up at the ceiling. You sat on the ground, watching him sort through his thoughts.
“I think I’ve got a magic penis,” he finally said, his voice far too serious to be joking.
“YOU DO -“ you hushed yourself in case anyone was walking by the room, “you do not have a magic penis, oh my gods,” you laughed, covering your mouth as your face turned red.
“How do you know? You can’t prove or disprove it!”
“No one has magic - you know!”
“Genitalia?”
“Yes! You’re out of your mind,” you said, shaking your head.
“I’m mad, you say?” He asked, furrowing his brow and looking at you skeptically.
“Yes indeed I do say,” you replied.
“Then let’s do something mad!” He laughed, loud and crazy in your face, a childish act. You couldn’t help but laugh along at his antics. He came to your level, pulling you up by the hands with a great heave.
“What do you suggest, then?”
“Get dressed in something lighter,” he said, pulling off his own golden necklace and putting in its’ place a sheer material over his shoulders. You stuttered for a moment, taking off your own shawl and wrapping a much thicker, scratchier material over your shoulders, putting on a shorter skirt. He then turned to you, pulling your wig off and his own with a soft smile.
“I still don’t understand what we’re doing,” you said as you walked down the empty hallways.
“I saw this beautiful cove off the side of the nile,” he finally informed you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along quicker. You stumbled over your feet, sloppily catching up to his speed. You tried to stammer a reply but the heat of his fingers digging into your bones kept you from speaking.
Down from the steps you ran in unison, lit by a crescent moon that hung low and massive in the sky. Off in the distance the lights of the city shone like the stars, more lively and dancing than they’d ever be. Though you surveyed the mass of land out in front of you, all you could feel was the now searing heat of his hand in yours. It made you feel funny, if a little sick in the stomach. You swallowed, now training your eyes on the Aur, shining with star and moonlight.
Eventually your bare feet hit dirt and you continued down the path, tugging lightly at your wrist to get him to slow down.
“Getting tired?” He asked when the two of you stopped in the shade of a tree.
“I’m a god. A higher being. I outrank you by a thousand suns,” you panted, kneeling on the ground with the exhaustion from running.
“Yes, of course, darling,” he chuckled, kneeling next to you and kissing your temple. You grumbled, pushing him off, but he just laughed at you, waiting alongside you so you could catch your breath.
“You’re so rude. And no one besides me believes it!”
“That’s because I’ve mastered the art of deception,” he teased, hitting particularly hot breath on your cheek.
“Whatever you like to tell yourself at night,” you hit back, standing up with a deep breath.
“I don’t tell myself anything at night,” he sniffed indignantly. “I have you to listen to. You snore, you know.”
“So do you.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go!” He pulled you by the arm this time, making sure you kept up as the brush got more intensive, surrounding you in flush greenery lining the banks of the nile. When the dirt turned to mud he stopped pulling you, slowing to a walk as he took in continually deeper breaths of air.
“How that cloth has stayed on you is a mystery,” you panted, pulling at the back of the material on his shoulders.
“I have a pin. Not much of a mystery,” he giggled.
“We’ll never know the answer,” you said, ignoring his statement by pointedly turning your head away. He laughed, tugging you to the waters edge.
Sitting on a rock adorned with hanging vines you watched him. Dragging over the movements of his muscles as he stepped into the warm water, coming up to his knees till it began soaking his skirt. He then took off the shawl, tossing it your way, though you barely caught it, too enraptured with the way he seemed to glow in the light of the moon.
“Are you going to join me, or are you going to sit there?” He asked, smiling cockily at you.
“I think I’m good sitting here,” you said, coughing awkwardly.
“Come on, that’s no fun. I took us out here to do something fun and a little reckless.”
“I’d hardly call wading in the river something reckless.”
“My mother said not to, qualifies enough for me. Now come join me. Please?”
You glared at him, trying to force your way through those sweet eyes of his whenever he asked sincerely for something. Grasping tightly at the rock beneath you, you caved, slipping off it and into the short reaches of the water. Twisting back around, you set your own shawl on the rock
“One day you won’t get the things you want in life by begging,” you said playfully, letting him pull you deeper into the water, till it began soaking your own short skirt.
“Oh, but I’ll always get what I want from you,” he smirked, his hand on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking your jawline.
“I swear to the gods, one of these days I’m going to get you and it’ll look like an accident,” you said in turn, the both of you breaking into fits of giggles as you did.
“Relax, take in the moonlight! It’s a wonderful night,” he advised you, taking the both of you deeper in till the water almost came to your hips.
He wasn’t wrong. You didn’t even have to look around to know that, the feeling of cool water against your legs and the spritz of gentle mist and wind on your face.
“If someone steals our clothes,” you said, getting up close to him till your noses touched, “it’s your fault.”
“If someone steals our clothes I’d be happy to do a portrait,” he flirted, looking you up and down with flitting eyes.
“You’re dirty!” You exclaimed, making sure not to be too loud.
“Come here,” he entreated, smiling soft and pure, focused entirely on you.
“I’m already here,” you grumbled.
He moved in to kiss you, pressing his lips to yours like petals upon your skin. You closed your eyes, breathing in his perfume, wandering his body with your hands. As your hands came around his jaw he moved further into you, kissing deeper with a furrowed brow, grasping at your waist firmly.
“You’re very handsome,” you breathed out as you parted, his kisses trailing towards your ear.
“That’s quite a compliment coming from you,” he murmured, rubbing circles into your stomach with his thumbs. His hands dipped lower, tugging at your already low hanging skirt.
“I’m not having sex with you in the river,” you said firmly, laughing as he pouted.
“It wouldn’t be that bad,” he tried to convince you, pulling you closer so your hips met with his.
“It’s dirty.”
“I thought I was dirty,” he joked, kissing you when you just frowned. His tongue dragged across your bottom lip, pushing in when you parted just slightly. Following your gasp, he brought his knee in-between your legs, pressing up against your crotch.
“Ah, I, uh, guess I could, oh -“ he grabbed your hips, grinding you down on him, “I could make - make an excuse, but, uh, not in the - the water, I -“
“On the shore then? You want me to fuck you in the mud?”
“That’s vulgar!”
“It’s not wrong either,” he chuckled, dragging you back through the water and onto the black shore.
“That doesn’t mean you have to say it. And especially not like that,” you said, your voice digressing into a mumble as he began kissing your neck, pulling at the knot tying your skirt together.
“You loooove it,” he teased, smiling against your skin as you fingered at the edge of his skirt.
“I do not. I love you,” you murmured, feeling heat building up in your cheeks. He was silent, still sucking at your neck and clavicle.
“… You do?”
“Uh, yeah. Yes.”
He threw your skirt to the side, stepping out of his own, shoving his hips up against yours with a thick moan. You gasped at the sensation of him heavy against your stomach, pressing yourself back against the rock behind you.
“Ahk, please, I -“
You needed him to say something. Something to deny or return what it was you’d said, slipping past your lips like the moans now falling freely. But he just stayed silent, chasing the friction he desperately needed against you.
“How… how do you love me?” He asked, his voice rough and quiet as he continued thrusting.
“I - I don’t -“
He slipped himself between your thighs, thrusting at a faster pace that rubbed right against that wonderful spot. At that point you were pretty sure you didn’t have male or female genitalia (as you’d seen a naked woman recently), so you weren’t sure what to call everything down there. All you knew was that it electrified you, enthralling you in pleasure.
“I need you, I need you to tell me,” he gasped, biting into your sternum.
“Ah - mm, I don’t - I love you, I just,” you trailed off, almost jumping out of your skin when you felt him nudge against your entrance.
“Fuck it,” he growled, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist and shoving himself inside you. You let out an all too loud moan, the feeling off him thick and full inside you.
The two of you stood for a moment, gathering your breath and composing yourselves. He kept his hands on your thighs, helping you to stay where you were, nails digging into the sensitive skin. Your own arms were around his shoulders, pulling his chest closer to yours.
Then he thrusted, pushing himself in to the hilt, forcing another moan from your throat. Keeping you in place, your back on the jagged rock keeping you upright, he allowed his hand to come between your legs and begin rubbing you right where you needed it. He was beginning to know your body better than you did.
“Come on, finish with me inside you. I know how good you feel,” he mumbled, kissing your jaw in feather light touches.
“Ahkmen, I - you’re, ah, so good to me,” you gasped, trying not to let his thrusting get in the way of your speech, to little avail.
With a few more well angled thrusts you came undone, muffling your moans by pressing your face into his hair. A few moments after and he came as well, biting hard enough into your shoulder to leave a mark. You were left gasping, the rock scratching your back as the two of you slid to the ground.
“What kind of love?” He finally asked, still panting, but looking at you through hooded eyes.
“What kinds are there?”
“Lots,” he answered, an answer which disturbed you. “Familial. Friendships can be love. There’s… playful love. Obsessive. The point is, there’s lots of love. Romantic is one of them.”
You tried to shift in your position on his legs, feeling his cock drag inside you. Wincing, you gripped his shoulders.
“Could you pull out? I’m sensitive.”
“Oh, sorry. Yes,” he apologized, that familiar wet sound following him pulling out, one that you recognized now as sexual instead of weird.
He kept you in his lap, his hands on your hips to keep you close to him. Looking down at him, the moonlight barely shining through the cover of trees reflected in his wide eyes, looking up expectantly at you.
“I suppose I wouldn’t know how to describe it,” you finally settled for, an answer that was inadequate for both of you.
“Try describing how you feel,” he suggested, and with thought you complied.
“… Good, all in all,” you chuckled, looking down. “My heart beats fast, and I feel like all that I want in life is to make you happy.”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Nedjem.”
“I told you not to call me that,” you grumbled.
“But it describes you so well!”
“It absolutely does n-“
“Just continue with your feelings, please?”
You sighed, leaning your head against the boulder.
“I guess… I want to hold you. But that’s normal, so is the whole kissing thing… I don’t know how to make this more specific?”
“I don’t want to alarm you, but - that’s not normal. At all. Mahjur, are you in love with me?”
“I already said that!”
“No, I clearly remember that, but what it sounds like you’re telling me now is that you’re… romantically in love with me.”
You froze. Was that it? Was he correct? Moreover, if he was correct, how would that affect your relationship? You couldn’t let mere feelings get in the way of your friendship. He was your best friend. Your only friend. You hardly had time to think about what it’d be like when he died, less so if your friendship ended before hand. You couldn’t even begin to imagine that.
“Mahjur? Are you alright?” He asked, cupping your cheek. You stuttered, meeting his eye with shame.
The entirety of your thoughts seemed to escape you, as though your brain had decided to take a vacation, leaving only first instinct for you to act on.
You laughed. Loud, your hands curling into yourself as you did so, your eyes darting anywhere to avoid looking at him.
“Uh… Mahjur?”
“Me? In love with you?” You barked out another laugh. “Please. That’s not… realistic. In any way.”
“You mean you having a crush on someone you’ve known all your life, spent most of your nights with, and slept with several times is unrealistic?”
“Of course I don’t love you, not like that!”
“Well I do!” He finally yelled, his hand slapping onto his thigh with a sense of finality. Looking directly into your eyes, he seemed to burn with his own intensity, teeth grinding and fists clenched tight. You blinked, breath quickened as you examined him.
“Ahk,” you spoke softly, placing your hand on his cheek. He sighed, relaxing into your touch with closed eyes, calming himself. “Let’s go home. I think you need some sleep.”
He’s young, you told yourself. But so were you, that little voice in the back of your head nagged as the two of you put your clothes back on. He’s human, you tried to reason, but the voice just replied, asking if you were really any different. He held your hand, walking the trail back to the palace, his eyes trained on the ground.
A long silence stretched, in which you both consumed yourselves in thought, only kept sane by the touch you shared. Distant, but certainly there, warm and familiar.
Just acknowledge it.
You feel the same; would it really be that wrong?
You moved close to him till your shoulders touched, leaning into him and tightening your grip on his hand just barely. His lips quirked up into a small smile, pressing his own shoulder into you.
“My father asked me when you’ll be finished with that tablet design,” he said as the steps of the palace came in sight. You sighed tiredly, your back slumping.
“I haven’t even started on it. Who’s it supposed to be connected to again?”
“Khonsu. Can’t you remember?”
“Obviously not,” you laughed.
+
It wasn’t as though you were purposefully avoiding him for the next few weeks. You hadn’t meant to - you were just busy. Busy with his father mostly, designing that tablet and what it was meant to do. Something you weren’t allowed to know. Perhaps if he knew what you really were he’d be more patient and willing to tell you, but it wasn’t something he needed to know. Either way, the symbols you were designing unsettled you. Lots of imagery concerning eternity and death, so much so the thoughts began entering your dreams. What could the Pharaoh be planning?
Sitting on the floor of Ahkmen’s room, your back against the wall and your knees up, you fiddled with a small, stone figure. It was supposed to be a woman, but it didn’t look that much like it.
The door opened, and through it Ahkmen dredged himself through. He collapsed on the bed, turning his head to you with a tired expression.
“What’s been ailing you?” You asked, letting the figure dangle from your fingers, supported by a limp wrist.
“My mother is one hell of a party planner,” he grumbled, turning over onto his stomach and staring at the wall.
“What’s the party for this time?”
“Ugh… uh, I’m being anointed Pharaoh by my father. My mother insists that a celebration is in order, so of course she’s inviting everyone we know.”
“And the whole city.”
“And their cousins, yes,” he grumbled, turning to face you again. “What’s wrong with you?”
He must’ve noticed your own passive facial expression, twisted into a mild confusion.
“Your father.”
“Seems we’re both doing well,” he laughed. You chuckled heartlessly, rolling your eyes.
“Something of the like. That tablet of his is… confusing. And dark. Feels an awful lot like he’s about to do some very unsavory things.”
“Have you asked him what it’s about yet? He won’t tell me,” he said, stretching his arms out.
“I have. Hasn’t told me. It’s finished now, so it’s not my problem anymore.”
“I guess we’ll never know,” he shrugged.
“Isn’t it for you though? Shouldn’t you know?”
“It’s a surprise.”
You chuckled, placing the small statue on the ground and getting to your feet. Walking over to him, you collapsed next to him on the bed with a bright smile, linking your arms together. He scooted himself closer to you, breathing deeply as he dug his face into the crook of your neck.
“You smell nice,” he murmured.
“It’s your perfume,” you told him with a laugh.
“Mm. I have to say, I don’t think I’m going to enjoy being Pharaoh,” he said, changing the subject but remaining in his position, arm slung over your torso as he lay on his stomach.
“Why not, darling?”
“My father has hardly any time to spend with us, and he’s always busy with lots of boring stuff. Then I have to deal with my brother,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he mentioned Kahmuh.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s always jealous! I mean, it’s not my fault our parents love me more, it’s really his. I - you know how he acts.”
“Atrociously,” you said.
“Exactly,” he agreed. “And it’s only going to get worse! Imagine his hatred for me, but tenfold.”
“He is the oldest. It’s technically his right for the throne,” you looked over at him, seeing him grimace, “but he, uh, definitely shouldn’t have it. A bit immature, isn’t he?”
“An understatement. Glad you understand,” he sighed, scooting ever closer to you till his lips pressed into the bare skin of your shoulder. Taking a deep breath, you relaxed, allowing yourself a midday nap.
+
In a few days time the palace was crowded with people, flooding with food and wine of the highest delicacies. You hung close to the wall, fortunately allowed to do that considering your status as ‘not royalty.’ Poor Ahkmenrah though, center of attention, was seated at the head of the table. No longer did he don the wig he’d worn so long, but in its place he wore a golden crown, rising high off his head and glittering in the light of the dying sun.
He glanced at you across the crowd, a half smile gracing his features. You just laughed, mocking his pain in a friendly way that he despised. With his head he gestured, asking you to come stand next to him. You sighed, shaking your head, but stood beside him nonetheless.
“Enjoying yourself?” You asked, keeping behind him.
“Not in the least,” he replied, continuing to keep his smile up to keep appearances.
“It’s a far cry from your birthday. When we first stole that wine,” you chuckled, trying to bring his mind off his nervousness and bring it to a happier memory.
“I’d say so. Now,” he grabbed two glasses, handing one to you, “we drink freely.” You clinked your glass against his, taking a sip from the sweet drink.
“Thank you, darling. How do you feel, now that all these people are your subjects?”
“Stressed? Uh - less so, with you,” he chuckled nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he kept his gaze down.
“I’m glad I can be of help.”
Per his request you sat next to him, on his right. To his left sat his parents, and to your left was his brother. It had been a while since you’d even seen Kahmuh, though he seemed to hold the same amount of poison he had before, glaring and tense. For the most part, Ahkmenrah spoke to his parents, leaving you to stare out over the feasting crowd and deal with the negative energy pouring off of his brother like waves of hatred.
Ahkmenrah turned back to the crowd, his mouth open and brow furrowed. He turned to you, gesturing to his parents.
“They’re already making their tombs! They aren’t that old,” he hissed, leaning towards you as he half whispered the words.
“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” you tried to compromise. “Besides, doesn’t it take a while to build those massive things?”
“It’s still morbid,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, still frowning.
“Don’t worry about it. This is your night, love,” you said with a smile. He scoffed but smiled, grateful for your support.
Somewhere near midnight, it was clear how on edge he had gotten. People came up to him, paying respects, bringing offerings that showed the prosperity much of his city had. He wasn’t ever one for conversing with hundreds of people within the timespan of a few hours. Thus, an hour or so after midnight, he gripped your hand, pulling you away from the table and leading you down the old hallways.
“Your parents are going to -“
“They’re too drunk to notice we’re gone, so is everyone else,” he said quickly, his voice low and clearly annoyed. Just from that you could tell how stressed he was, clinging to your hand far too tight and pulling you along in an almost painful way.
You stopped trying to talk to him, stopped pulling at your held hand, allowing him to drag you down the hallways till you came to his room. Flinging open the doors he pulled you inside, shutting the doors and collapsing against them.
“Wow,” you said, sliding down the door to sit next to him. “Someone’s not feeling very good.”
“It’s just a lot. I’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands.
“Aww,” you tutted, snuggling in beside him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and your hand on his arm.
He hummed discontentedly, shuffling closer to you and resting his head on yours. His crown dug into your skull, but you didn’t say anything, just letting him relax.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about the future. Everything’ll work out… and I’ll be with you,” you murmured, breathing slow and deep, closing your eyes as you dug your face further into his shoulder.
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t have much else to do,” you joked, feeling yourself grow tired.
His fingers came beneath your chin, tilting you upwards till he captured you in a soft kiss. You moved into it, shifting to a more comfortable position on your knees. He molded perfectly into you, warm and mellow in a soothing way.
“What would I do without you?” He mumbled, still keeping his lips right above yours.
“Probably try to become friends with your brother.”
“Yuck.”
You laughed, resting your forehead on his shoulder as he joined you, the vibrations of his laugh spreading from his chest to yours.
“A very apt word,” you giggled, pressing quick kisses to his cheek.
“Yes - mm,” he grabbed your cheeks, pulling you to kiss him on the lips.
You ended up just sitting beside him, half asleep for the next hour. For the most part you did not speak to each other, reveling in the silence that peace between two good friends brought. When your head drooped, obviously falling asleep, he spoke.
“Let’s get to bed,” he suggested quietly, moving you to your feet.
“I’m sure your parents and your subjects are waiting for you,” you slurred, leaning against him.
“And I’m sure they’re drunk. Bed time,” he chuckled, and the both of you collapsed on the bed.
“Take the crown off.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to wake up with a massive headache,” you said, tugging uselessly at it.
“Fine,” he said, pulling it off and setting it on the ground beside him.
Still fully clothed, you curled up next to each other, falling fast asleep in a half drunk, hazy state.
+
The sun hid just below the horizon when you woke, dragging yourself away from Ahkmenrah’s hold. He mumbled something incoherent, quickly falling back asleep. You smiled to yourself, kissing his cheek before you left to the balcony.
You could still hear shouts from around town, singing and joyful drinking echoing all the way up to the palace where you stood. Dusk rounded the corner, the sky just barely glowing, the curtains behind you billowing in the wind.
Beside you, Maahes appeared. You furrowed your brow, wondering silently why he was there. You hadn’t seen him in forever - maybe he wanted to talk.
But his eyes watered. They were red, and his mouth parted as he took a shaky breath.
“Mahjur,” he spoke, holding out his hand. “I am so sorry for this.”
“Sorry for what? Maahes -“
He grabbed you by the waist, restraining you, keeping you looking towards the city. Behind you the door creaked open, and you could hear Ahkmenrah stir with a quiet mumble.
“Good morning,” he said, sounding confused. “What are you doing here?”
All you heard was footsteps. The person who had entered did not speak, stepping closer to the bed.
“Wait, Kahmuh, I -“
You felt your heart beating faster. Faster, faster, and faster, beating out of its cage at a painful rate, cracking away at your resolve to stay complicit.
“No, what are you doing, please! Help!!”
“Everyone’s asleep, dear brother,” Kahmuh said in a low voice, and suddenly Ahkmenrah’s screams were muffled. A shimmering sound of a blade came from behind you and you twisted, elbowing and kicking your own brother wherever you could just to see. Only to help, you needed to get to him, needed it more than anything, and still -
A slashing sound echoed through the chamber. With a burst of strength you turned yourself and Maahes around, watching, drowning in your own helplessness as Ahkmenrah pushed his brother away, dragging his bloodied self out of the room. Kahmuh ran after him, pulling him back into his room and driving a black knife into the back of your friend, over, and over, and over again, muffling his dying screams with his other hand.
“Ahkmen, no!” You cried, jumping off the ground, pulling as hard as you could, cracking your own fragile bones as you pushed and pushed against your brother. But Maahes didn’t even have to use his full strength. He was strong, you were weak, and easy to hold back.
Even Kahmuh couldn’t hear you. Even as Ahkmenrah stopped flailing, resigned himself to being naught but a body in a pool of its’ own blood, he kept stabbing. Viciously, till the doors of the chamber opened, and the dreadful cry of his mother rang through the hallways, alerting guards and servants alike, calling her husband.
Only then you felt your throat hoarse with your screaming, your cheeks hot with tears and muscles tired from the strain. You couldn’t help it as you continued crying, still desperately trying to get to Ahkmenrah, hoping beyond hope that he was still alive.
You closed your eyes tightly, feeling tears burn through your skin, your nails digging into the arms of your brother. When you opened them, you were not where you were before.
Surrounding you were clouds, alight with a golden haze, and in front of you was your mother. It had been so long since you’d seen her, a rush of joy went through you before quickly dying. Grief had not yet struck you, but it wouldn’t be long till.
“Mahjur, my beautiful child,” she said, and you had almost forgotten how soothing her voice was. She gathered you in a hug and you melted, your tears staining her dress.
“My best friend has died,” you sobbed against her, catching a glimpse of Maahes standing to the side with a remorseful look on his face.
“I know. It’s not your fault,” she cooed, stroking your hair.
“Why did you hold me back?” You opened your eyes, referring now to your brother.
“I needed to. Divine intervention is not allowed in matters of life and death, but more importantly the latter.”
“I don’t even know what half of those words mean!” You cried, knowing full well what he meant. Maahes still shied away, closing his eyes as he watched you sob. “Send me back,” you begged.
“The spirits of the dead roam the earth,” Bastet spoke in a soft voice, pulling you away from her body so she could look at you. “Ahkmen will roam the earth incorporeally, till his tomb is completed, and Anubis and Ma’at have prepared his hearing.”
“His hearing?” You sniffed.
“The rite of passage.”
“Oh,” you said, recalling the afterlife once more. “I need to go back, he’s probably lost and confused.”
“Do what you must, darling,” your mother hummed.
When you blinked again you were back where you were before, facing the bedroom, standing on the balcony. Below you you heard soft crying, muffled by hands. Looking down you saw Ahkmenrah, his form fuzzy and transparent.
“Ahk?” You whispered, kneeling down beside him. His legs dangled off the edge, his head in his hands, the golden cloak he wore so often splayed out behind him. It glittered in the morning light, though still see through.
“Mahjur?” He looked up, sniffing, his eyes red and puffy with tears. His eyes widened, standing up and pulling you into a hug. To your surprise he did not go through you as you had expected, but he felt warm against you, as though he were still alive. Tender and tight you embraced him, burying yourself in his scent and hold.
“I thought I lost you forever,” you breathed out, tears pricking away at your eyes.
“I thought I left you behind,” he replied, just as choked up as you were.
“Let’s just say it’s been an emotional morning,” you said, kissing below his ear, moving to his cheek. He laughed, almost cheery, smiling bright as he held your face in his hands.
“I’ve never been more happy to see you,” he cried, kissing you on the lips.
“Not even after that lesson about granary?”
“You’re - unbearable,” he laughed, catching your tears with kisses.
You laughed, pulling him into another tight hug. He breathed deeply against you, holding you firm to him.
“Oh Mahjur,” he murmured, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“Uh… it’s a little… morbid,” you warned him, but he nodded, waiting for you to continue. “You need to wait till they bury your body in a sarcophagus. Then you… can do all that, uh, Hall of Two Truths thing.”
“Hopefully they bury me properly,” he muttered, frowning.
“You mean with that papyrus that holds all the truths?”
“Yes, I mean that,” he grumbled, his fingers fiddling with the material of your shawl.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” you said, looking over the edge of the balcony. “You’re royal. I don’t think they’d forget.”
He looked over the edge as well, measuring up the height of the palace from where his room was situated to the ground below.
“Y’think we could survive that fall? I’ve always wanted to jump off here,” he finally said, giving you a mischievous smirk.
“We’re already dead. Can’t get much worse.”
He shrugged, grabbing your hand and pulling you off with him. You expected the wind to whip loudly around you, pulling at your clothes and biting your skin, but it was actually rather pleasant. Together, you drifted slowly downwards, holding hands all the way. With a laugh you looked over at him, finding him in the same state of delight.
The ground soon approached, and you landed with a feather light touch.
“Not quite as risky as I thought it’d be,” he said with a shaky breath.
“Let’s just be grateful you didn’t try it when you were alive, alright?”
Was it the appropriate time to be making death jokes? Either way you’d already said it. It didn’t seem to bother him too much either you noticed as he laughed, falling into you with his side.
“Oh my god, my parents,” he said suddenly, and you could feel the dread killing the joy he felt.
“They’ll be alright,” you tried to comfort, but in that short second he was already too far gone, clutching your shirt and staring into you with wild eyes.
“My brother! What are they going to think?!”
“Your brother?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.
“Yes! My brother, oh goodness, they’re going to be so worried! Do you think I could say good bye? Can they even see me?”
It hit you very suddenly, like a punch to the nose that knocked out all your senses, blocking your air. He didn’t remember how he died. How that was possible, how that worked you hadn’t the faintest idea, but you did clearly remember that he did not see his body. He was turned away. What could you say to him? The truth?
“I’m sure your brother will make a good pharaoh. If not, there’s always cousins. And your parents will understand. It’s hard, but they’ll understand.”
“Oh, dearest… do you think we could check on them?”
You exhaled sharply, unsure. You weren’t any more wise than him in your age, and even containing all the understandings of the musings of the universe, you couldn’t find an answer.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you said quietly, nodding just slightly. “But I think it’d be best to avoid your room.”
“Why?”
“Seeing your own dead body, I’m assuming, probably isn’t a nice experience.”
“Ah. Uh, you’re probably right,” he agreed, pursing his lips together, following your lead around the palace and back up the steps.
Around you people swarmed, but none saw you, multiple walking through you. You’d gone through the experience before, when Bastet was first showing you Kemet, but the feeling was new to Ahkmenrah. Upon the first person walking through him, a man in his golden years, he stopped, gasping and shivering.
“What was that?” He asked, turning to you with wide eyes, desperately wanting an answer.
“Not much - seems like that man just walked through you. You’ll get used to it, it’s normal.”
“It felt like searing heat,” he said with a frown, holding your hand once more and following you.
As you had guessed, the visit did little to really help him. He had gone hoping for closure but was left with more questions and needs than he had arrived with, wishing more and more with each step you took away from his sobbing mother, that he could simply comfort her. You held his hand tight, a reminder each time he looked back that he could do nothing.
It was an intense thing to go through at such a young age. Or so you presumed, you hadn’t ever thought about this - the in-between from life and death. Still walking among the living but not with them. But, maybe, it was something everyone expected. On the other hand it might’ve just as well been something that no one anticipated. Looking over at Ahkmen, he didn’t seem to be doing well enough for such questions. So, in silence you sat with him by the river side. Off in the distance to your left you saw the trees of the cove you’d been to with him. An emotional night, you remembered, but you tried to keep your thoughts on the present. Your friend needed you.
“What do we do till I’m… fully dead? Will you still be able to visit me?”
“One question at a time,” you laughed softly. “Concerning your first one, we can do whatever you want. Regarding your second question, I’m not too sure. I could ask my mother to pull some strings.”
“Who is your mother, anyway?”
“Same woman who made me. Bastet.”
“Ah, right,” he said, seeming to suddenly recall the various hints you’d dropped. “Do you think we can still have sex?”
“Gross,” you said off instinct, shriveling up your nose. “You’re dead and that’s one of your worries?”
“At least it wasn’t my first worry,” he laughed.
“… I guess,” you grumbled, pulling at your clothes to cover more of you.
Both of you sat cross legged next to each other on the banks of the Aur, not worrying for your skirts getting dirty with the mud. A few people came down, a few bathing, and a few coming for better fertilizer. Some came for water, but none noticed you. Life seemed peaceful, almost maddeningly so, completely invisible. Too long, you thought, and one might wonder if they were real at all.
Much of life felt like that, so thank goodness you had Ahkmen beside you. Never one for long, quiet moments that lasted just a little too long, he ranted. About anything at all. Often it was about food, how he hated to lose that of all senses. Most of the time you laughed, just staring at him with a dopey smile on your face as he yelled at the air, his hands gesturing wild and in sharp movements. While people ran around you, caught up in their lives, you never once looked away from him. Everyone else blended together as your whole world came crashing down to a single point - him.
“-and it’s not like they have to follow that rule, right?” He asked, his hands gesturing to the people below.
The two of you sat upon the tallest statue you could find, easily climbable in your inexhaustible state. For the past hour and a half he’d been discussing incest and its’ relationship with royalty and commoners.
“Right,” you agreed easily.
“Commoners are gross most of the time -“
“Don’t be rude.”
“ - sorry - but, they can’t afford the niceties that we can, anyway. So if even they won’t do something, I don’t think we should.”
“I think you’re looking at it from a negative angle.”
“It’s a negative thing!”
“It might be that you think that only because you don’t get along with your brother and, he’s, well, your brother. What about cousins?” You asked, leaning your head on your hand.
“No! I have never, ever found my cousins attractive! I mean, thank the gods my parents aren’t related.”
“What would happen if they were?”
“… You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
A smile broke off your face, cracking you up as you shook your head, sighing.
“Alright, you got me. I don’t really favor it either,” you finally agreed.
“You’re a little trickster,” he said, ruffling your hair.
“You’re a little boy.”
“I’m still older than you!”
Once a day you’d go back to the palace and check how things were going. Every now and then Ahkmen would follow close behind, hiding behind your back like he’d be seen. In those trips with him, you spent the majority of your time hiding how he died and his body from him. Stab wounds or not, dead versions of yourselves aren’t pleasant things to see.
You had learned a good deal - the tombs being built for his parents would be fitted to host him as well, a special chamber in between his mother and father. It all felt too morbid and too real, so you tried not to spend too much time listening to building plans. The only other thing to do was to see how preparations were coming with his body. Mostly making sure they were burying him with everything needed.
“I do not want to go into that hall of truths without that paper!”
“Wow, you’re rather insistent about this aren’t you? Any childhood fears I should know about?”
“I - I just, imagine getting eaten just because you forgot something. I’d get eaten every other day!”
“Ahkmen,” you said, squishing his cheeks together with your hands, pulling him closer to you. “They aren’t going to forget.”
He blushed, frowning and pushing you away.
“Probably,” he mumbled.
With your newfound inability to fall asleep many nights were spent stargazing. According to those living within Kemet, whenever a king died, they became a star. That wasn’t at all correct. You knew that, instilled with such a knowledge of the heavens and everything below that you had to fight yourself each time Ahkmen asked a question to not share too much.
You lay beside him in the great expanse of the desert, staring up into the vastness of the lights, lining the sky with a thick belt and shining so brightly it would’ve kept you up, could you need sleep.
“I never thought of it before,” he said, moving closer to you, “but do you think I’d become a star? I mean, I wasn’t really Pharaoh that long, was I… would it count?”
“Pharaohs don’t become stars. When someone good dies there is a god in the south who takes their body, their ashes, whatever is left of them, and turns them into a star. Thus they keep their soul in whatever way they see fit, and there is a star remembering them. This good person, they don’t need to be a king. In fact it’s often not kings. It’s just… good people. Like you.” You nudged him with your elbow, smiling gently.
“You know a lot about this stuff,” he commented.
“It’s the heavenly knowledge. That, and it’s interesting.”
“What else do you know?”
“A lot.”
“I mean about the stars.”
“Oh, that. Uh… you’re made of dead stars. We all are. When a star dies, which they only do once every fifty human lifetimes, their stuff goes everywhere. Then a very special person is born only in idea, and a god from the east takes the star stuff, takes that idea, and molds them. Then they write their story with the winds of the north and the water underground, and once all is written and prepared, they are put on earth to grow. If they are good, they become stars. If they are bad, they rot and fester in the earth till they fertilize the plants, which, are in turn, eaten by the animals of the plains.”
He looked at you with furrowed brow, his mouth parted slightly, looking thoroughly confused and mildly grossed out.
“Too much?”
“Yeah, bit too much - interesting, though. Didn’t have to phrase that last part like that.”
“Right, right. Sorry.”
He was quiet, before he asked, “what are you made of?”
“Mud mostly,” you said, looking up at the stars, your hands crossed behind your head as a makeshift cushion.
“What else?”
“Alabaster. Not conventional ingredients, I know.”
“Oh my - what happened to you?”
“What? What’s wrong?” You bolted upright, grabbing his hands, scanning his face frantically.
“No, you’re fine but, what do my parents think happened to you?!”
You hadn’t actually… thought of that.
“That’s a question for the morning,” you sighed, caught off guard but glad nothing was wrong. You leaned forward, resting your forehead on his shoulder.
He put his arm around you, allowing you to relax into him. He allowed you to listen to his breathing, to mourn at his lack of heartbeat, lack of pulse, and to adore his warmth.
“I think I like you more with your real hair,” he mumbled, his face pressed into the top of your head.
“It’s much shorter,” you said.
“It’s easier to pull, too,” he chuckled, tugging on it harshly, stopping when he noticed you didn’t budge. Actually, you nearly purred pressing yourself into him more.
“That feels nice,” you hummed.
“Did you just purr?” He asked at the same time.
“Well, I am partly cat.”
“Weird.”
“Rude,” you shot back, going weak when he put his hand in your hair again, petting you and making you warm all over.
“I love you,” he murmured in the silence, and in all the world you seemed to be the only ones alive. Secluded from everything you knew and everything you didn’t, only existing for the sake of each other. It seemed pure bliss, stretching for miles around you, his words echoing in that blissful quiet.
“I love you too,” you replied.
+
In the morning you kept your word, finding the answer to his question. What happened to your physical body? What did they think happened to you?
Turned out the answer was not as nice as you might’ve thought. You suspected that perhaps your physical body simply disappeared. Ahkmen didn’t express his own thoughts on the idea beforehand, so you had no idea what to say when looking through records and finding you died of all the bones in your body being crushed.
“… Wow.”
“Uh, yeah,” you said, blinking at the papyrus in front of you.
“At least it sounds badass.”
“You’re the worst.”
The rest of the day was spent attempting to cleanse yourself of the image of your body mangled and bloodied on the bedroom floor. You thought that perhaps you weren’t even bloody - maybe it was mud that spilled out. You also knew, right as you saw it, that it had been your brothers doing. Not on purpose, simply stopping you from saving your friend.
You kept up to date with the proceedings till you, alongside Ahkmen, watched as his sarcophagus was carried into the large tomb.
All around you quiet seemed to engulf the space. You stood close to him, your shoulders brushing as you watched with unblinking eyes as he was lowered away, locked into a chamber with riches surrounding him. Beside you, you heard him finally breathe once they sealed him in. When you turned to look, he was gone. You panicked, jumping and looking around you wildly for some sign of where he went.
With a blink of your eye you found yourself in a hall, expanding seemingly forever. Fantastically giant pillars lined the walls, humongous statues beside him, art carved intricately into the stone. Sitting at a large, semicircle table made of dark wood that you hadn’t ever seen before, you gripped at your surroundings. Looking to your left, Bastet sat beside you. To your right were more grand deities, ones you had never met before and that you were nearly terrified to be in close proximity to. In the middle of the whole table was Ma’at, keeper of the balance and truth. Near her sat Osiris, who was flanked by his sisters Isis and Nephthys. On the other side of Ma’at was Thoth and Anubis, the latter of who seemed the most solemn of all. His hands were folded neatly together, placed on the table, unnervingly even. Beside Anubis, looking small, was his daughter Qebhet.
All the gods, you noticed, had their heads on. Bastet had her cat head, Anubis with his long snout of a black jackal’s face.
It was silent.
Far too silent. They all stared ahead, into the vast blackness of the never-ending hall, their brows furrowed or looking perfectly at peace, undisturbed by the slow passing of time.
“What’s happening?” You finally asked your mother, nudging at her dress.
“Ahkmen is special, to you. That is why you are here,” she said in a quiet, serious voice. Turning to gesture at the others, she continued with, “they have allowed you to be here. Do not press that privilege. You are lucky you even get to know the fate of your friend.”
You nodded. By all technicalities, even Bastet wasn’t supposed to be there either. She wasn’t part of the judging process.
Anubis stood suddenly, followed by his daughter and Nephthys, all three of which walked down from the platform on which the rounded table stood, walking down the hallway. You gulped, your throat tight as you watched them walk down the hallway to receive Ahkmen’s soul.
Despite wanting to follow you sat patiently, in the everlasting quiet, your eyes closed as you waited for sound.
At last it came, the sound of footsteps, and from the darkness you saw the three forms of the gods joined by a fourth, one you knew to be Ahkmen. You tensed, your hands gripping at the wood, willing yourself not to jump up and greet him.
He kept his face down, the only sound still being the footsteps of the four, till he came to the middle of the room, and the gods joined you at the table. Clutched in his hand was the papyrus he’d been so worried about them forgetting, and when Ma’at cleared her throat, he looked up. She looked at the paper, and with quick, shaking hands he opened it, and began reciting his negative confessions.
“I have not committed sins against me,” he said, his voice firm but anxious, long breaths keeping himself under control. He hadn’t yet truly looked upon the table of judges before him, and had thus not seen you. “I have not wrought evil.”
You closed your eyes, hoping beyond hope that he would be alright. That he wouldn’t slip up, that he would weigh righteous against her feather.
“I have not inflicted pain.”
Please, please, please.
“I… have not masturbated in the sanctuaries of the god of my city.”
You bit your tongue, taking a deep breath. You would not laugh. It’d be inappropriate and immature, you tried to tell yourself.
“I have not carried away the milk from the mouths of children.”
Please, please, please.
“I have not stopped water when it should flow.”
Please, please, please.
“I have not extinguished a fire when it should burn.”
Please, please, please.
“I have not turned back the god at his appearances.”
At long last he looked up from his paper, his eyes immediately going to you, widening upon recognition. His mouth hung open and you nodded, looking at his paper to cue him into the fact that he wasn’t done. With another deep breath, he continued.
“I am pure. I am pure. I am pure. My pure offerings are the pure offerings of that great Benu which dwelleth in Hensu. For behold, I am the nose of Neb-nefu, who giveth sustenance unto all mankind, on the day of the filling of the Utchat in Anu, in the second month of the season Pert, on the last of the month. I have seen the filling of the Utchat in Anu, therefore let not calamity befall me in this land, or in this Hall of Maati, because I know the names of the gods who are therein.”
Ma’at turned to Osiris with unnerving steadiness, nodding in one, slow motion. He stood, his hands on the table to balance him before he came to stand in front of Ahkmen. From seemingly thin air, Osiris pulled his heart out, and with wide, shocked eyes Ahkmen watched as it was placed upon the golden scale in front of Ma’at. You watched in anticipation as Ma’at plucked a feather from her crown, small and white, placing it on the other side of the scale.
The weight jumped a little, but came steady. The two were equal.
You heard Ahkmen let out a breath, breathing steady for the first time since his body had been buried. With a quick glance to your mother, silently asking permission, she nodded, and you jumped from your position, running towards him. Your arms outstretched, you engulfed him in the tightest hug yet, feeling him bury his head into your shoulder, holding you back just as tight.
“I was so worried,” he said, not moving from his position. You didn’t either, keeping him close to you.
“I knew you’d be alright,” you said, brushing his hair with your hand.
Distantly you heard footsteps approaching. Upon finally breaking away from him you saw Anubis standing over the two of you, his eyes steady as they looked between you.
“Ahkmenrah. You have been allowed an easy trial due to Mahjur’s testimony,” Anubis spoke, his voice surprisingly smooth and easy to listen to. You hadn’t given any testimony, you remembered in an instant, but you said nothing. “I will guide you to Lily Lake. There you will meet Hraf-hef.”
“Yes, uh, thank you,” Ahkmen stuttered, bowing slightly in his gratitude. He grabbed your hand, pulling you along as Anubis departed. Without thought you followed, eager to spend just one more moment with him.
Then from behind a voice boomed, echoing through the empty chambers with a lilt that nearly crippled you to your knees.
“My child can not go with you,” Bastet said, but it wasn’t quite her. Like many of the judges, she was partial to having two natures - one for every day (that was usually kind and docile), and one for battle.
“What?” Ahkmen asked, looking confused. It was the first time he seemed to feel confident in his words since he’d entered the hall.
“If Mahjur goes with you,” Bastet turned to look at you, “you will not return. And no one may visit you without getting trapped themselves. It is not a fate you wish to have.”
Eternity with him, locked away in a second world. The past week or so had been just fine, speaking only with him, but it was bound to drive you mad. As much as you loved him, one needed more than just one person they spoke to. Even if those other people weren’t really friends, it was necessary.
“Mahjur,” Ahkmen murmured, soft and pleading as he tugged gently at your hand.
Eternity without him, barred from ever seeing him again. You hadn’t ever lived without him truly. How would you fare? Would you grow away from him, or burn yourself into nothingness in his absence?
“I -“
You tried to speak, stopped when you noticed the weight of his hand in yours began to dissipate. Turning to him you found his form half gone, see through as it had been on earth. You rushed to him, trying to grab him, hold him in place, but he was gone before you could take another step closer, leaving naught but the space between you and Anubis.
Around you you heard the horrified gasps of the gods, but it did little when you were met with stunning silence once more. Consumed in darkness you tried to see, reaching with shaking, scared hands for any sign that you were still alive. Eventually your eyes adjusted to the dingy light, finding there to be no light at all. You were sealed into the ground, surrounded by the many gifts given to Ahkmenrah.
You were sealed in his grace, and a sudden feeling of understandable dread came over you when you heard screaming. Turning around slow and terrified, you saw the lid of his sarcophagus jumping up and down each time it was pounded against, the screaming occupying it in its’ confused terror.
In sudden realization you jumped into action, unlocking the coffin, pushing the lid off, and helping him sit up. Still encased in wrappings you kept your eyes wide, wondering how awful he was going to look.
With careful hands you reached up behind his head, unwrapping him. It came off slowly, and when you were at last done, you were surprised.
He looked perfectly fine. Healthier than healthy, actually, fighting fit and beautiful as the night he was anointed.
“Mahjur,” he said, his voice shaking and his eyes impossibly wide. “This has been a very intense day.”
“I know, darling.”
“I really want to go to sleep,” he said.
“I know. Come here,” you comforted softly, helping him out of his grave and onto the bed they had so helpfully supplied for the afterlife.
“What’s happening to me?” He asked, his voice cracking as he put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“I don’t -“
“This is all that Khonsu’s fault! If he wasn’t so damned sentimental, he’d, he’d… this would never had happened!” Bastet said, appearing before she even seemed to be speaking, pacing in front of you. Your eyes widened as you watched her, pulling at her ears with human hands.
“What do you mean?” You asked, trying not to aggravate her further.
“Oh - uh, just a moment,” she said, turning to the room, her eyes scanning over it. “It’s bound to be somewhere around here.”
As you watched her, you rubbed Ahkmen’s shoulders, helping him try to relax. He was still tense as ever, rubbing his temples as he tried to digest the many things that had happened to him within a very short timespan.
“Here it is,” she said at last, pulling a golden tablet off the wall that seemed to glow with its own ethereal light. She handed it to you, and immediately you recognized the design to be your own. It had to be what Merenkahre was making for his son.
“I know this, I designed it. I don’t know what it does though,” you said, handing it back to her. Ahkmen looked up, watching with the same confusion as you.
“It brings to life that which is dead. Whether that be statues or carvings, or… you,” she said, turning to Ahkmen, who looked like he did not appreciate an old god looking at him.
“Shouldn’t everything in this room be coming to life then?” You asked.
“Look around, child of mine, and see.”
“I can’t, it’s too dark.”
Bastet sighed, a tired, weary sigh.
“Right. Night vision, you don’t have that because you don’t have the cat - okay, here,” she grumbled, lighting a torch with the materials she could find.
Eyes surrounded you. Stock still, following you in their statue forms that could not move. Mummified cats moved beneath their dressings, wriggling like they were full of worms. Paintings whispered about you, seeing for the first time your face.
“Yikes.”
“We’re pulling Khonsu into court in the morning, and you,” she pointed to Ahkmen, “will be there. We will find how this magic works. For now… do whatever you children do.” She left.
You sat, your mouth parted slightly, the torch on the floor illuminating the hundreds of eyes. Ahkmen moaned miserably, putting his head in his hands again, leaning against you as you began rubbing his back again.
“Have you ever met Khonsu?” He asked after a while of you just sitting next to him.
“No. I have heard varying accounts on what he is like.”
“How foolish of my father to do this. What’d he think would happen? That I could free myself of my wrappings, open up an entire sarcophagus from the inside, and open up the giant door holding my own tomb closed?” He groaned, his voice cracking as he said tomb.
“Love blinds the lesser and the nobler to dangers and common sense. Grief can do the same,” you said quietly.
He was silent for another moment before he spoke.
“Mahjur,” he said, “how long have you known me?”
You pulled your hands away from him.
“All my life. I met you when I was four -“
“Four months. Yes. Why… why have you stayed beside me?”
“Where is this coming from?”
“Just answer,” he said, finally meeting your eye as he finished, “please?”
“… You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to stand for. I’m young and I don’t make good decisions which is probably why we ended up with so many reprimands, but my one truly good decision was being with you.”
“In what sense?”
“Hm?”
“You’re with me, in what sense?”
“I - I don’t… understand,” you said slowly, trying to think his words through in a way you might get.
“Never mind,” he mumbled, put off.
“Ahk,” you whined, pulling at his arm. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing!”
“It’s obviously not!”
“I’m still in love with you!” He practically shouted, untangled from his position before tangling himself right back into it, pulling his knees into his chest and hiding his face.
What could you say to that?
“Now isn’t the time, dearest.”
Nice going, that’s sure to make him feel better, you chastised yourself.
“I know,” was all he muttered, keeping his face away from yours. You hurt him, you knew that, and though you weren’t aware of it until that point, you’d been hurting him for a while. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that he still had those sorts of feelings - you thought you were alone in your affections. However, in all reality, it really wasn’t the time. He was half dead and half alive and had just met the more terrifying set of gods, all of which can be a traumatic experience.
You put your arm around his shoulders, letting him fall against your side. He whimpered something you couldn’t fully hear, burying his head in your clothing.
“Things are… difficult, right now,” you said, keeping your voice quiet and low. “But I will always be by your side. I will fight each god if I need to.”
“Sounds dangerous,” he mumbled.
“It’s only common sense if it’s you.”
+
By the time daytime came once more, you’d helped him back into his wrappings, lying him down in his coffin.
“Don’t close it till I’m… you know,” he requested, and you complied, waiting till his cheeks hollowed and his breathing stilled before shutting the lid. You then closed your eyes, following the trail of his spirit back to the court full of judges. The long hall before you was lit by torchlight, the flames flickering as you watched.
Ma’at leaned forward, looking down on Ahkmen with a critical stare.
“What do you propose we do with you?” She asked, leaving your friend to speak.
“I - take away the uh, spell. Then I don’t come to, uh, life, anymore,” he suggested, keeping his head high.
“We cannot do that. It interferes too greatly with the fate of things.”
“But me being there and influencing every one of his decisions doesn’t?” You asked, standing up. Before you could even blink you were standing next to him, placed there by Osiris himself.
“Do you wish to be tried as well?” He asked, his eye wide with questioning near indistinguishable from anger.
“Yes,” you said firmly, standing your ground. Behind you Ahkmen tugged at your hand, trying to calm your anger. You grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing in affirmation that this was what you needed to do.
Osiris sniffed, clearly taken aback by your boldness, if not impressed. “Very well,” he said.
In the far corner, Bastet glared at you.
“There can be only one option,” Ma’at spoke once Osiris had taken his seat once more. All turned to her, waiting expectantly for her verdict. “Ahkmenrah will die each morning, and he will stay here and be judged. Hopefully you complete your sayings in time to be allowed into Aaru for a time before you will once more be submitted to life on earth.”
She spoke with such a cool formality, as though she didn’t believe Ahkmen was truly a living thing. Like she was above him in every way. Your fists clenched at her, in all her wisdom and age she was insolent.
“That is unfair and cruel and you know it,” you hissed, practically seething.
“It is the only option. You are young, you cannot know -“
“Yes, I am young, but I obviously know more than you!” You bit back, interrupting her. Right below the surface, beneath that confident, angry exterior you knew this was wrong. You knew how childish you were being but damn you if you were going to let him suffer like this for all of eternity. “It’s in your hands and you know this is the wrong thing to do!”
“Unless you have another option,” she spoke with a thousand fires behind her, backing up every word she used, “this is my final word.”
“Give me time. I will come up with something that will suit both parties,” you insisted, feeling Ahkmen tug at your hand but paying it no notice.
“Until we convene once more tomorrow, we have other souls to judge.” With a flick of your wrist, you were gone. Sent away into some other space, a vast whiteness that spread for eons.
“I can’t believe you did that!” Ahkmen finally said, gasping as he spoke, clutching his hair in tight fists.
“What?”
“You - you argued! With Ma’at, who’s the fucking God of logic and justice, oh my gods!” He said, his eyes wide as he turned to you. He grabbed your shawl in a fist, pulling you towards him in a harsh manner. You couldn’t quite tell if he was excited or angry, the way all his muscles tensed and his mouth hung open.
“I said I’d do anything for you. I wasn’t lying,” you replied, coming closer to him with small steps.
“I know, I know, but… I just… again, I suppose it’s a lot. Very much a lot.”
“You could say that,” you laughed.
“So what’s your plan?” He asked, releasing you.
“My what?”
“To get me out of eternal purgatory,” he said, his brow furrowed and speaking in a suddenly soft voice.
“I’ve got to think. Apparently we can’t stop you from dying every morning and coming back to life every night, so we’ll have to deal with that. Maybe every time you became, uh, this again,” you gestured vaguely to his spirit form which, if you saw in the street, you wouldn’t think anything of, “you could just come here, instead of facing trial.”
“So I’d spend half my time in a dingy cave filled with meaningless treasure and the rest of my time in a white desert.”
“Mm… doesn’t sound as good out loud,” you muttered, beginning to pace.
Together, you brainstormed, coming up with various, shoddy solutions to your dilemma. Every now and then one of you would get up and pace, eventually brought down by the other to the sitting position on the floor once more. This routine continued, till as you were rubbing your eyes tiredly, a thought came to you.
“Ahk,” you started with.
“Yes?”
“What am I the god of again?”
“The forgotten and abandoned. That, and, uh.. what was it… childhood love or something?”
“Exactly! The first part, exactly, I’m the god of the forgotten! I - I need to go for a moment,” you said, stuttering through your words as you went over your idea in your mind, churning it at record speed.
“Wait, don’t leave me!” He cried, grasping your wrist and igniting an old pain from an injury he’d given you long ago. You hissed and he relented, backing off quickly.
“I need to. I’ll be back in less than an hour,” you comforted him, holding his face in your hands. He sighed softly, leaning his head into your hold. “I’ll always come back for you.”
“Do what you have to,” he said finally, his hand lingering on yours as he pulled away. “I will be counting though.”
“I’m counting on it. Get it?”
“Ha, ha,” he said, rolling his eyes, but a genuine snort did come out. You grinned, leaving with a snap of your fingers.
Memphis seemed not to have changed too much. Statues of gods still lined temples and the palace, each and every animal being worshipped in some way due to their connection with a god. Keeping yourself invisible you entered the palace you once considered your home, crawling your way through shadows till you found the throne room. Atop the largest seat was Kahmuh, who seemed to be relaxing away his time. The servants in the room referred to him as Kahmunrah, a name which disgusted you, making you shrivel up your nose.
As you assumed, Ahkmen’s brother had risen to power. That left the other question you had; did he erase Ahkmen’s statues?
Racing around the palace and the streets of the city, it seemed so. Every reference of him was destroyed, the faces of once grand effigies tarnished by the hands of slaves ordered by Kahmuh.
“By all accounts,” you said, addressing the court at large, Ahkmen tucked safely behind him, not one for facing the stares of gods. “Ahkmen is a forgotten man.” The following words you did not wish to say in front of him, but it was necessary for the court to hear, and he needed to be there at all times during its’ proceedings. “History will not remember him, and if I do recall, I am the deity of the abandoned. I protect them. He has been abandoned by his family, and his city, his people, and they have all forgotten him.”
Ma’at looked unamused, but she always looked like that, so you were beginning to think that was just her face. She cleared her throat, looking down at the paper before her.
“You’re a new god,” she said, looking up for your confirmation which you quickly gave. “What do you do with these forgotten things you pick up?”
You stopped yourself from insulting her. Desperately you wanted to be able to respect her, but when she kept degrading Ahkmen, it was difficult.
“I protect them. They find solace in me, or whatever else they need, and I guide them.”
She nodded, closing her eyes in contemplation. You waited, watching each little micro movement of her face. The way she pressed her lips together, the small moment when her eyes closed tighter. You kept waiting, waiting for her word, but she said nothing.
“I would stay by his side when he is alive, and he will stay with me when he dies. I will make sure we do not cause any trouble,” you added when the silence became unbearable.
“You had a habit for causing trouble when you were living as a child,” Thoth noted in a quiet voice.
“It was a time of no great consequence. Please, I beg of you. Life isn’t fair but you can make it so, at least for just this one time,” you asked of them, watching in careful anticipation as they looked at each other, communicating in small looks and quirks. At last she turned to you, her face hiding emotions you could not fathom.
“Have your way,” she sniffed, “and care for this child. But if he is ever discovered, if he ever be remembered, leave him. At that point he will no longer be in your domain, and you must forget him.”
“Of course,” you immediately agreed, not thinking of any consequence. Leaving him when he is known would be better than leaving him when he would be sorely, terribly alone.
You held his hand tight, and with her dismissal you left, keeping him close to you. Your descent back down to the surface of earth was slow, and from your position you could watch tiny people flit about in their tiny lives, thinking their world so much larger than the others around them.
“Are you sure you made the right decision?” He asked, pulling himself closer to you.
“I don’t know. All I know is that you won’t be alone anymore,” you said, speaking softly, not meeting his eye.
“What if I am found?”
“Then you will make new friends.”
“None like you,” he murmured, holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. You sighed, casting your gaze downwards. You’d be utterly alone if he was found.
“No. None like you.”
+
By day you wandered the earth. Staying mostly in Kemet the scenery soon got boring, but it was better than the night. By night you spoke about anything, and soon everything began to run out. It seemed everything experienceable had already been done by you, and in his state, the numerous ways to live were limited. No new foods, no need to sleep. Days and nights grew long, everything meshing together till the only distinct in a hazy grey world was him.
It was the fate you had chosen for yourself. No more stars. No more drink or food, no pleasure such as the sun shining on full skin. It wasn’t long till Ahkmen forgot to count the days, too busy counting seconds, far too concentrated on looking over the carvings of his tomb for the five hundred and sixty fifth time. You kept time though, vigilantly. It was a way to occupy the passing time.
When you suggested leaving Kemet to explore the rest of the daunting world, six hundred years had passed. Six hundred years of feeling half the life of water around your ankles, six hundred years missing the taste of honey, six hundred years remembering what once was. Six hundred years loving him and never telling him.
“Where would we go?” He asked, and despite the years behind him, he still held the excitement of a child. You smiled wide, grabbing his hands in the dim of the cavern.
“I don’t know,” you said excitedly. He grinned, toothy and wide, just as enlivened as you had become.
That morning you helped him back to sleep, kissing his forehead, watching as he turned back into the rubble he had become. Then, pulling yourself out of your own body you helped him, reaching into the gulfs of his tomb and pulling his soul far away from the dank room.
“Which direction?” He asked.
“Wherever the wind may lead.”
With a strong gust of wind you headed northeast, and with all the speed you could muster, you were halfway across the world by midday. Surrounding you were mountains covered in snow, something you scarcely saw. In such large amounts it astounded both of you, shivering despite your half alive states.
“So, where do you suppose we are?”
“Asia?” You guessed.
“What’s Asia?”
“It’s uh, a place,” you stammered, unsure of how to define a continent.
“That’s so terribly helpful, thank you so much,” he sassed, crossings his arms in an attempt to keep warm.
“There should be a fire that way,” you said, pulling your shawl tighter over yourself and pointing down the slope.
“How can you tell?”
“I can smell it.”
“Stupid cat senses,” he muttered, trudging down through the deep snow.
You happened upon a group who called themselves Huns. They could not see you but you still sat with them, enjoying the warmth of their fire and rather joyous laughter. You couldn’t partake in earthly pleasure, but you could certainly appreciate the sound of laughter, and the obvious telling of stories, though you couldn’t understand the language.
“Mahjur,” he spoke softly, pulling you to the side with the biggest, clearest smile you’d seen on him in centuries. “Let’s come back here tomorrow.”
You agreed easily.
When one spends enough time listening to a language, one picks it up. After fifty years that’s what happened to your dear friend, as well as you. The stories they’d been telling you found were not especially innocent stories, but some were entertaining to hear. Ahkmen soon realized both of you were fluent in the language, and thus started a new expedition in his life.
“I want to learn as many languages as possible!” He said to you, and his vigor and excitement melted you, and you so easily agreed.
In your adventures you took him to so many places, interacting with nothing but seeing everything, like absent observers. If strong enough you could enjoy scents, leaning in too close to a pie who’s scent drifted from the open kitchen window, pressing roses too close to your noses to enjoy what it had to offer. You waded through massive oceans, finding warm and cold ones alike that, to both your surprise, ended up actually being the same ocean. The earth was one, big, massive ocean that had some land swelled up in it. Every evening without fail, before the stars could shine, before you could finally see their light again, he disappeared, and you rushed back to his tomb.
You always helped him out of his wrappings, and every night you’d talk about your experiences.
“These Roman people, they have fantastic food,” he said, focusing intensely on the memory of focaccia.
“You haven’t even tried it yet,” you giggled, staring mindlessly at him, caught up in your own admiration of him.
“I know, but you can practically taste it on the smell! And,” he looked at you, raising his eyebrows and pointing a finger at you, “I quite like the language.”
“It’s rather nice to hear, isn’t it?” You mused.
“It’s elegant! I can’t wait till I understand more of it!”
Two thousand years since his death and you returned to Asia, hoping to refresh some of your Hun, finding them speaking an entirely different language. Ahkmen looked distraught upon the town as they spoke the vastly different dialect. You shrugged, turning to him.
“Best thing is you’ll get to learn this one as well.”
He gave a small, sad smile, but agreed, sitting on a bench with you. Together you watched as families passed by, small children and men, women and merchants, speaking a language that sounded like garbled noises but rolled off their tongue so smoothly.
“I’m starting to recognize some similarities,” he said to you on your tenth day of observation.
“Well, it is the same continent.”
“Fair point.”
With the similarities it wasn’t long till he picked it up, speaking near fluently with you.
“Have you ever wondered if we’re actually getting it all wrong? That a thing we’re saying isn’t what we think we’re saying?”
“That was a confusing sentence to hear, but yes. However I think we’re getting it right for the most part,” you said.
Even in all your conversations, endless silences and endless talks he never once brought up what had bothered him so many centuries ago.
“I’m still in love with you!”
“Now isn’t the time, dearest.”
When was the right time?
You finally found out. Years of maturity helped you grow with him, and eventually you found your answer. No time was going to be right till you made it so.
As always, the cave was enveloped in darkness, not a single stream of light getting through the walls. He rested his head on your shoulder, dozing as you both leaned back, sitting on the floor.
“Ahk,” you murmured, your cheek pressed into the top of his head.
“Mm?” He hummed softly, half asleep.
“Do you remember what you said to me,” you took a sharp breath, “when we were being tried?” Anxiety seemed to replace every blood cell in your body, overcrowding your breath and halting your thoughts.
“I said a lot of things I’m sure.”
“You know,” you said, choking up for no particular reason, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Mahj?” He looked up at you, pulling himself away to look at you better.
“What I said must have hurt you terribly. I never meant to do that. I - I was just… nervous, I guess.”
“This… this is about, how I said that I still loved you?”
“… Yeah,” you mumbled, hiding your face in your pulled up knees.
He scooted closer to you, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you so you could rest your head on his shoulder. You calmed yourself listening to his breath, feeling the slow up and down against your body.
“I don’t mind so much anymore. That doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop loving you like that, but. I understand that you aren’t - you don’t think of me like that.”
“Don’t think of you like that? Are you insane? Ahk,” you tugged yourself away from his grasp, looking him in the face. “I loved you more than anything. I still do. My dearheart,” you held his face in your hands, watching as it grew red and teary, “I was scared. I’m not anymore. Not with you. Never with you.”
He let out a laugh, looking down in embarrassment as he grew more red in the face. Looking up he beamed at you, leaning in for a kiss sweeter than any shared before. No more words were shared that night, the only thing to be needed was one another.
Two thousand more years.
Four thousand since his death.
Four thousand years spent together, when one afternoon spent exploring whatever the hell a cars was, he suddenly shot up. You looked up from the black wheels with a concerned look, asking him what was wrong.
“Something’s terribly wrong,” he said, frowning and looking back at you. In an instant that confusion switched to fear, his eyes widening, mouth parting and hand reaching for you as he tried to yell, silenced by his own disappearance. You bolted upright, running towards where he was standing, grasping at empty air, hands shaking from shock.
“His tomb has been opened,” came a cool, familiar voice from behind you. You whipped back around, finding Ma’at in a suit, fiddling with the cuffs, bearing a human head upon her shoulders.
“Is he safe?” You asked, first and foremost, walking to stand in front of her, desperate for an answer.
“Yes,” she answered simply, looking at you as a lesser being, looking as though she was almost sorry.
You fell to the ground, sitting cross legged as you contemplated your own life. You had submitted yourself to this. She sat down beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder.
“Visit him if you’d like, but do not show yourself. I will not punish you for that.”
Looking back up at her you found no deception, only a sadness that hit her too close to home.
“Thank you,” you murmured instead of crying, realizing that she was experiencing her own empathy. She nodded, patting your shoulder, and with that she disappeared.
You followed him, close behind, making sure he was safe, never interfering. Cambridge was his first stop, where the both of you, in separate lives, learned english.
Watch.
Watch.
Observe.
Please don’t hurt yourself.
From afar you watched him converse with the other exhibits that came to life from his tablet. From afar you watched him laugh, and from even further you watched him weep.
“I miss you,” he would say to himself when no one was around. He’d gotten a bad habit of talking to himself, but you knew the words were meant for you. They had to be.
“I know you’re listening. You… you wouldn’t give up on me that easily,” he’d say. “Would you?”
Never.
You watched from afar as he was transferred across the ocean, to a new land you never got the chance to see. The whole place was overrun with people, flooding out of the woodwork, flitting about in daily lives that they’d come to regret too soon.
You watched as he was locked in his sarcophagus.
Night after night.
Screaming himself hoarse, pounding so hard on the lid it’d rattle like windows in a harsh storm.
It became so difficult to watch year after year, but you stayed. Just in case. Maybe he could sense you were there. Probably not, but you would never leave him.
A change of the night guard and a healthy dose of thievery and fear led him to finally taking real, fresh air again. You gasped in your own relief, watching as he ran down the hallways, golden cape trailing behind him as he helped the strange man with the debacle he’d gotten himself into.
Sometimes he’d spend the night dancing, laughing and listening to the many stories each exhibit had. You smiled to yourself as you watched him live, glad his existence amounted to so much more than you could give him.
“I, uh,” he said, sitting down with a man who called himself Theodore, “I had this friend, once.”
Your heart skipped a beat, your breath halting in anticipation.
“Friend is a bit of an understatement,” he said, chuckling. “They were… I guess what you would call a soulmate. They gave up a lot for me.”
“Sounds like a good friend,” Theodore said.
“More than that.”
He explained how you were a god, and though it seemed the man didn’t quite believe him, he nodded, acting like he did.
“Mahjur, that was - that was their name.”
“Mahjur? I know that name. There’s a few stories concerning that god.”
You frowned. You hadn’t heard of these stories.
“Really?” Ahk asked, scooting closer. “Tell me one.”
“It’s long, so I’ll sum it up - the lesson is to be kind to everyone, as you never know if one could be a higher man! Such as your friend. In this, uh, story, Mahjur gave up everything to help this abandoned boy simply because the boy had been nice to them once.”
Ahkmen was quiet, absorbing the words, thinking of when you could’ve done that.
“They saved me. It’s foolish, but I think they’re still listening. I don’t think Mahj would give up on me. It’s probably just a fools hope though.”
“Never doubt hope, boy. That’s a foolish thing to do.”
Wise words, you thought to yourself, but you kept your eyes trained on Ahkmen.
“Perhaps you’re right. They would’ve done anything for me, least I can do is believe in them.”
Theodore pat his shoulder twice, leaving with a tip of his hat. Ahkmen watched as he rode off on his horse, resting his head in his hands once he was out of sight.
“I was right, Mahjur,” he said, and you perked up. His eyes watered as he gazed up at the ceiling, never spotting you from your hidden position. “I knew I'd miss you. I knew this decision of yours was a mistake.” His voice cracked and he wiped his eyes, sighing and leaning back against the wall. With a deep sigh he closed his eyes.
That evening, you paid little heed to Ma'at's warnings from so long ago. You snuck in and, atop his casket, you placed your gold necklace, and left before you could be seen. However, no matter what you told yourself, you couldn't stay to watch.
You couldn't come back.
#ahkmenrah x reader#ahkmenrah#night at the museum#rami malek#ahkmenrah x male reader#ahkmenrah x female reader#rami malek x reader
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Chapter 4: Sypha Belnades and Meilė’s Promise
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Current read ————>
Chapter 5
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“Isn't there a head man in Gresit you could go to?” Trevor asked. The Elder shook his head. “He died in the first horde attack. Our searches have been unsuccessful.” The Elder said. Arn looked at the two, not noticing that the other was gone. “So, what are your plans?” He asked. Ramybė shrugged. “Find some more food, find some drink, watch this idiot get drunk,”
“I take offence to that.” Trevor said, not looking at the older twin.
“That was the point,” she said. “Eat some food, move on.” She said. The Elder frowned.
“That's it?” He asked. Trevor shrugged.
“Maybe find a tall tree, sit in it with Meilė and Ramybė, watch the show before we move on, all the good little people dying horribly, all that.” Trevor said. The Elder frowned.
“You two feel no compassion?” He asked. Ramybė looked at him, frowning.
“This is what the church wanted. The Belmonts and the Gelbėtojais were the only people who could've fought Dracula and his army, but they didn't want us.” She said. Trevor looked down.
“They wanted to fight the darkness on their own terms, good luck to them.” He said.
“But the ordinary people of Wallachia, they didn't get the choice.” The Elder said. Ramybė turned away.
“For evil bastards to win power, all ordinary people have to do is stand aside and keep quiet.” She said.
“There's always a choice.” Trevor finished. The Elder sighed.
“Well, find a good tall tree. You can watch us die, too.” The Elder said. Suddenly, Ramybė gasped and clutched at her heart. Trevor’s eyes widened.
“Ramybė!” He caught her before her knees buckled. “Ramybė, what’s the matter?” He asked. Ramybė looked at him.
“Meilė, somethings happened to her. I don’t know what, but it’s not good.” She said. The twins had an extremely strong spiritual connection. The connection allowed them to feel if one of them was hurt or not.
“It's his grandchild.” Arn suddenly said. Ramybė looked at the man as Trevor helped her straighten up. The Elder looked at him.
“Arn!” He reprimanded. Arn shook his head.
“I don't care! It's the elder's grandchild down there. We can't even bury them. It's not our way to just leave our dead unattended to!” Arn argued. Both Ramybė and Trevor’s eyes widened. This is why they refused to leave. The Elder frowned.
“We stay for the people of Gresit.” He said. Arn nodded, looked down at the Elder. “Yes, we do. But we also stay because we hope.” Arn said. “So, you're staying to die with the good people of Gresit, not just because it's a good thing to do, but because you don't have your grandchild's body?” Trevor asked, sounding astonished.
“If you want to put it that way.” The Elder said. Trevor sighed. Ramybė looked a the Elder.
“If Trevor and I go and recover your kid's body, as well as rescue my sister, will you please leave?” She asked. Trevor looked at the Speakers.
“Wait outside the city. Give your aid to the survivors when the night horde finally just rips through this place.” Trevor said. Arn frowned. “Why would you do that?” He asked. Ramybė turned and faced the unlit fireplace. “They're going to come for you soon,” she said. Trevor and the Speakers looked at her. “The good people.” She turned and faced them. “It's gonna be a pogrom.” She said. Trevor walked over and stood next to her.
“Ramybė’s right. They were talking about it in the marketplace this morning.” Arn frowned.
“I don't think you answered my question.” Arn said. Trevor walked up to him.
“Ramybė, Meilė and I know what it's like to be persecuted by your own country for the accident of your birth. Meilė means the world to me. I am not going to leave her alone in those damn catacombs.” Trevor said. Ramybė placed her hand on Trevor’s shoulder, silently telling him to calm down.
“If Trevor and I find your grandchild, will you leave this city before nightfall?” She asked, looking at the Elder. The Elder sighed.
“If that is the condition of your recovering, then yes.” The Elder said. Trevor and Ramybė turned, facing the door. “We’re leaving now.” Ramybė said. Trevor turned and looked at the Speakers. “Don't go walkabouts looking for people to give support to. Stay right here.” Trevor commanded before turning.
“Belmont. Gelbėtojai,” the two froze, listening to what the Elder had to say.
“It is not dying that frightens us. It's living without ever having done our best.” The Elder said. Trevor opened the door. “I don't care.” He whispered. Ramybė sighed and looked back at the Speakers.
“We’ll be back soon.” She said, closing the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wind whistled as the two ex-monster hunters made their way across the town of Gresit to the opening of the catacombs.
“Ramybė, can you still feel Meilė’s spiritual energy?” Trevor asked her. Ramybė stopped walking for a moment and closed her eyes, concentrating.
“Yes. It’s faint, but it’s still there.” She said. Trevor nodded.
“Good.” He said. The made their way up to what looked like the statue of a person and a snake. Ramybė narrowed her eyes. She moved to the side a little and smirked.
“Hmm. There,” she said, pointing to an opening between the snake. Trevor smiled.
“Good eye.” He said. They walked closer to the snake. Ramybė bent her knees and lifted up with her arms, creating a sort of platform of earth for the two to stand on. Moving her arms up, the platform moved up. It stopped right at the entrance. Trevor hopped off first and grabbed Ramybė’s hand, helping her across. “Have I told you how awesome it is that you have powers?” Trevor asked. Ramybė smiled.
“You could probably mention it more often.” She said. Trevor chuckled. Ramybė turned and stomped, pushing her arms down. The platform sunk into the ground again. Trevor looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. She shrugged. “What? Don’t want people following us up here.” She said. Trevor nodded.
“Right, but, how are we going to get down?” He asked. Ramybė started to walk forward.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” She said. They walked further in and saw some torches. Trevor walked forward and picked up a torch. He sniffed at it.
“Hmm,” he turned to Ramybė. “Does this smell like fresh oil to you?” He asked. He held it out for her to sniff it. Ramybė did so. She nodded.
“Yup. Fresh oil,” she confirmed. Trevor looked at her. He held the torch out.
“Will you do the honors?” He asked. Ramybė smiled.
“Gladly,” she stood back a little. Trevor held the torch a little ways in front of him. Ramybė took a breath in. Pointing with her index and middle finger, she thrust forward with her arm. A small flame shot forward and lit the torch. Trevor started to walk forward, Ramybė following.
“Anybody home?” He shouted. Ramybė rolled her eyes.
“Do you really think a person would respond if you asked if they were home?” She asked. Trevor looked at her and shrugged.
“What? Just wanting to make sure.” He said. A hallow clang caught their attention. Ramybė frowned and walked over to a golden pipe. She placed her hand against it.
“Warm. That's weird.” She said. Trevor and Ramybė continued forward. A faint rustling caused Ramybė to draw her sword and Trevor his short sword.
“We can hear you. We’re armed, and a lot less happy than you are so you want to stay well out of our way.” Trevor said. All of the sudden, the ground beneath the two collapsed.
“Whoa! Oh!” The two landed on their feet. Trevor looked up and smirked.
“Ha! Reflexes like a cat.” He said. As if the universe wanted to prove them wrong, the floor broke open again.
“Must you always jinx things?!” Ramybė shouted as the fell again. They landed on a pile of rubble. The two groaned in pain. Ramybė looked up as lights turned on. She gasped as she saw the statue of a Speaker and the statue of her sister.
“Meilė!” She shouted. She scrambled to get up, and rushed to the statue. Ramybė placed her hands on the sides of the statue’s face. Trevor walked up to the statue of the Speaker. He knocked his dagger against it.
“Either someone left a statue of a Speaker down here, or,” his sentence was cut off when laid footsteps filled the empty catacombs. Ramybė gasped and whirled around.
“Cyclops!” She shouted. The two dodged as the Cyclops opened its eye. Purple light shot through. The two hid behind pillars.
“Stone-eye cyclops.” Trevor said. Ramybė nodded.
“Yup. Right out of the family bestiary.” She said. The cyclops shot at the two again and they dodged it.
“God shits in our dinner once again.” Trevor said. Ramybė frowned.
“Trevor, stop complaining about God shitting in our dinner and try to kill this damn thing!” She shouted. Ramybė shot fire at it. The fire didn’t affect it at all. Using his whip and his dagger, Trevor moved the whip so that it shot at the cyclops’ chest.
“Come on. Come on! You're dead! Stop and notice you're dead.” Trevor shouted. Ramybė rolled her eyes, running in front of him.
“Idiot! The only way to kill a Stone-Eye Cyclops,” she jumped and flipped midair. Thrusting her hand backwards, a spike of earth shot through and stabbed the cyclops in the eye. “Is to hit its eye.” She said. The cyclops fell to the ground, blood oozing from its eye. Ramybė landed on the ground. Trevor rushed over to Meliė, who’s body was returning to normal. Ramybė rushed over to the Speaker. She caught the Speaker in her arms.
Trevor caught Meilė in his arms. He waited for her to wake up, but she didn’t move. Trevor gently shook her.
“Meilė?” He shook her again. “Meilė!” He turned and looked at Ramybė. “Ramybė, Meilė isn’t waking up!” He shouted. Ramybė rubbed the back of the Speaker as she vomited. Hearing what Trevor said, Ramybė gasped and ran over. Trevor gently set Meilė on the ground. He gently cupped her cheek. Ramybė looked at him as she knelt next to her sister.
“She’s still breathing, right?” She asked. Trevor nodded.
“Yeah. She’s still breathing.” He said. Ramybė nodded. She placed one hand on Meilė’s chest and one on her forehead. Ramybė closed her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them, her eyes, the were glowing white. After a few moments, Ramybė’s eyes returned to their normal light brown color. Ramybė cupped Meilė’s cheeks. Meilė’s eyes opened and glowed white. She then gasped and started coughing. Both Trevor and Ramybė sighed in relief. Meilė slowly opened her eyes and saw her best friend and her sister.
“Trevor? Ramybė?” She asked quietly. Trevor chuckled and pulled her into a hug, gently caressing the back of Meilė’s head. When they pulled away, Trevor helped her sit up. He looked at the Speaker.
“Granddaughter, then,” he helped Meilė stand up. Ramybė rushed over and pulled her sister into a hug. Trevor rubbed the back of his head. “Ah. I wish Speakers wouldn't do that.” He said. The Speaker frowned.
“What?” She asked.
“Dress the girls like boys.” Trevor said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“It's safer when we travel.” The Speaker explained.
“What happened?” Meilė asked, looking at her sister.
“Both you and the Speaker walked into a cyclops.” Ramybė said, gesturing to the now dead thing.
“Turns you to stone with its eyeball and feeds on your terror while you're trapped in your own body.” Trevor said. Meilė shivered with fright, causing Ramybė wrap her arms around her sister’s shoulders in comfort. The Speaker frowned.
“Did... did you two climb on me?” She asked. Ramybė shook her head.
“Nope. But he did.” She said, pointing at Trevor. Trevor crossed his arms and nodded. The Speaker frowned.
“That was rude.” She said. She looked at the three who were in the catacombs with her. “Who are you three, anyway?” She asked.
“We met your grandfather,” Trevor said, not answering the Speaker’s question. “He wouldn't leave the city until he had your body.” Trevor said. Ramybė jutted her thumb at him.
“We came down to recover your remains so the Speakers would go to safety. And to get my idiot sister out of danger.” Ramybė frowned, looking at Meilė. Meilė crossed her arms.
“I had it covered.” She said. Ramybė scoffed.
“Yeah, if you call being turned to stone and scaring the shit out of your twin sister and your best friend having it covered, then you did a splendid job, Sister.” Ramybė said, sarcasm in her voice. The Speaker frowned.
“But the Sleeping Warrior is still down here.” She said. Trevor shook his head.
“There is no Sleeping Warrior,” he gestured to the dead monster. “Just a cyclops waiting for people stupid enough to go looking. And someone kind enough, like Meilė, who go looking for people who disappear. It's a trap for gullible Speakers. You're not popular around here.” Trevor said. The Speaker frowned.
“The Old Wisdom says the tomb is guarded...”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on. Time to go home.” Trevor said, interrupting her. Ramybė looked at the Speaker.
“Your people think you're dead. The least you can do is set that old man's mind to rest.” She said. The Speaker looked shocked.
“He thinks I'm dead?” She asked. Meilė nodded, placing her hand on her hip.
“He wasn't much wrong. Killing a cyclops is the only way to restore a victim.” She said. Ramybė looked at her sister.
“Oh, and I can see you managed to kill it.” She didn’t want to be mean to her sister, but she nearly lost her.
“Ramybė, you know that I don’t have very much control over my powers as much as you do!” She shouted. Trevor sighed.
“Can we please save the sibling argument for when we’re not in the catacombs?” He asked. The twins sighed.
“In agreeing with what Meilė said, Didn't think Ramybė and I’d manage it. The whole Cyclops thing.” Trevor said. The Speaker frowned.
“Who are you three?” She asked again. Trevor looked down.
“Trevor Belmont.” He said. The Speaker looked at the twins. Ramynė took Meliė’s hand.
“My name is Ramybė Gelbėtojai.” She said. Meliė placed her hand on her chest.
“And my name is Meilė Gelbėtojai.” She said. The Speaker didn’t look too impressed.
“But the Belmonts and the Gelbėtojais fight monsters.” She said.
“We’re out of practice. Let's show you to your grandfather, and then you can come down here and get killed again. Deal?” He asked. Meilė looked at him in shock.
“Trevor!” She shouted. Trevor looked at her.
“What?” He asked innocently.
“Very well,” the Speaker said, slightly shocking Meilė. The Speaker placed her hand on her chest. “I'm Sypha Belnades.” She introduced.
“I don't care.” Trevor whispered. Meilė sighed and shook her head. She smiled at her sister and rushed to catch up to him.
“You scared the shit out of me and your sister.” Trevor said, not looking at her. Meilė frowned.
“Trevor, both you and Ramybė know that I’m not the kind of person to leave someone. I have to go and help.” She said. Trevor stopped walking and looked at her.
“Meilė, you almost died! You could have died if Ramybė and I hadn’t come for you! I almost lost you.” He said. Meilė’s eyes widened at her best friend’s words. Trevor sighed and pulled her into a hug. Meilė hugged back.
“I’m sorry I scared you, Trevor. I promise I’ll never do it again.” She said.
~~~~~~~
//I apologize. This took me longer than I thought to get this done. Chapter 5 will be coming out soon.//
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Welcome Back Everyone!
If you would like to submit art work for this week’s episode please do so before Friday when I will post the recap and update the Master List. Just click here to submit! If you would like to ask me anything or comment on my commentary. . . all asks are screened for spoilers. Just click here to send an ask
Yeah. . . I'm not even gonna briefcap that
What did we learn?
I'm not interested in watching Uncle Grandpa
Steven can summon his shield when he wants to protect his family
Amethyst looks uber cool in them sunglasses
** And So On To The List Of Lists **
Consolidated lingering Questions
The Gems:
Where do they come from? I now know they are not from Earth, they are from somewhere in spaceHomeworld, further away than our ocean can get in a 30 foot (10ish meters) diameter cylinder from the ocean floor.
How is power derived from them?
What about the gemmed enemies? the monsters used to be humanoid, how does that work, why??
What are Amethyst's unique Powers? Ball-rolling. Fire attack? Uses shapeshifting more.
During Ocean Gem it is mentioned by Lapis Lazuli that the only thing the Crystal Gems care about is Earth, but Pearl showed her complete disdain for humans on multiple occasions particularly Keep Beach City Weird where she said humans were insignificant. . . . so what about Earth do they care about so much? Pearl, at the very least, doesn't care about humans or Earth. She's only here because she was following Rose. Amethyst was born here.
What’s the deal with Amethyst’s strange relationship with gravity? seriously, did this just go away?
Who all can fuse? Pearl and Amethyst = Opal and Amethyst and Garnet = Sugilite and Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl = Alexandrite and Steven and Connie = Stevonnie
How old are each of them? It’s suggested that they’re centuries millennia old. Amethyst acts a bit like a teenager. Is she that much younger than Pearl? Where does Garnet fall? Pearl and Garnet are more than 5000 years old, probably much older. Why is Steven the only boy? Amethyst is around 4 to 5000 years old. Due to his dad's age and the fact that his dad is human, Steven must be less than 20. Based on his relationship with Connie, I'm gonna put his age at around 12.
How many boy gems are there everywhere?
Why did the Gems destroy the Galaxy Warp? It seemed like Pearl wanted to go home during Space Race, but she obviously can't deal with any possible relations with the other Gems in Warp Tour.
What happened between the Gems from the homeworld and the Crystal Gems? There's gotta be a HUGE backstory here. . . .
Does all that Crystal Gem vs Home Gem battle have anything to do with Rose's decision to create Steven?
The World:
Everything seems to be happening in Beach City. Are there other Gems in other towns? Like every town has a team of Crystal Gems protecting it? Or is this town some center for universal negativity, so the Gems are focused here? It seems pretty obvious that the Crystal Gems are the only ones on Earth. . . They stated no one else on Earth can use the warp pads.
Why on Earth are the Crystal Gems on Earth?
Where did Lion take Steven and Connie for training? To Rose's Armory Is that place, or a similar one, available to all gems? There's been no evidence of other Gems having similar places. Do you need a familiar to take you there? Apparently not. Pearl can take you there. How does Lion know the way? It's pretty obvious that Lion was sent to Steven by his mom. . . but still not understanding his powers and knowledge
Warp Pads. . . . Galaxy Warp. How did the Galaxy warp get here? Why is it here? Why is it broken? The Galaxy Warp is the only warp pad on Earth that leads off Earth. So it's obvious why it is here. I'm thinking the Crystal Gems broke the Galaxy Warp to avoid dealings with the other Gems. . . BUT WHY?
The House on the Beach:
This is more a curiosity, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the fight that took off that statue’s hands. I bet it involved Sugilite.
What is up with the living temple inside the house? Beating hearts, waterfalls, a pool for getting rid of evil spirits, a holodeck run by the imagination, dimensional shenanigans. Need much more history and understanding here.
Townies:
What’s up with Onion and his dad? Are they from some other planet?
Why would you make a place called Fish Stew Pizza?
What would make one believe a potato can provide protection from a multi-dimensional being. .. . also, are the Gems multi-dimensional? I don't see that.
Rose Quartz:
Why does Rose have to die to give Steven his superpowers?
Is Rose even dead? _pretty sure this is answered_ (-doubts-)
What would make her choose that? a prophesy? desire to give Greg a kid? gonna die anyway?
Did she give up her gem to HAVE a kid or to IMBUE a kid with the gem? My current theory is that the gem is a being that creates a physical form, and that Rose stopped being Rose in order to be Steven (sorta) as I think Rose is still part of the gem (not dead). So essentially Rose's physical form is gone, replaced by Steven's physical form.
Would removing the gem from Steven give Rose back her form, leaving Steven as a common human 12-year-old?
Lion:
What all does Lion know? How did he get his powers? He's a creation of Rose's, so she gave him his powers. He might even still be connected to her somehow.
Characters
The Crystal Gems
Pearl
Garnet
Amethyst
(dead?) Rose Quartz
Steven
Other Gems
Lapis Lazuli
Peridot
Fusions
Opal
Sugilite
Alexandrite
Stevonnie
The Townsfolk & Other Humans
Sadie
Lars
FryMan
PeeDee Fryman
Ronaldo Fryman
Greg
Mailman
Barb (not seen)
Nanafua Pizza
Kofi Pizza
Jenny Pizza
Kiki Pizza
Sour Cream
Buck Dewey
Onion
Onion’s Dad
Mr. Smiley
Suitcase Sam?
Mayor Dewey
Connie
Connie's Mom (Dr)
Connie's Dad (Security Guard)
Kevin
The Mayor's 2 bodyguards
Monsters/Creatures
Centipeedles and their mother
Red Eye
(offscreen) A giant bird with a giant polka-dot egg
The Spirit from the painting that possessed Together Breakfast
The Crystal Shrimp
(deceased) Frybo
Steven with Cats
The Eel that liked shiny stuff
Lion
Starfish Drills and their MOM?
Giant Bird from Giant Woman
The Geode Beetles of Heaven and Earth
The carnivorous moss that turns into beautiful flowers
Holo-Pearl
Training Robot from the cavern
Blow/Pufferfish
Blood Polyp (offscreen)
Ice Monster
Gem Shard Animated Body Parts
Invisible Monster
Sneople
Watermelon Stevens
Dogcopter
Peridot's Robots
Bees (They're magic!)
The lighthouse
Prop Bats
Scarecrows
Peridot's bigger robots
The Wind Lizard
Places
Around Town
Big Donut
Beach City Walk Fries
Funland Arcade
the boardwalk
Fish Stew Pizza
Greg’s van
It’s A Wash
the storage facility
the Crystal Gem’s house on the beach
Suitcase Sam’s T-Shirt store
Funland
Dock
Warehouse (Wrestling Arena, Rave, and Mayor Dewey's Campaign HQ)
Movie Theatre (in town?)
Pearl’s favorite tree (deceased)
Under the Ocean
Lars’ House
The Lighthouse
Greg's Aunt and Uncle's Barn
Crab the Shack
Beanch City
Mystical
The Temple with a beating heart
the storage unit? Greg said it was magical
(destroyed) The Lunar Sea Spire
Warp pad in Steven’s living room
The Training Cavern
Upside down Pyramid in the Strawberry Fields
Sand Castles that the Dessert Glass built
The cave in Arcade Mania
The Sky Spire
The Lava place where Garnet retrieved the Geode Beetle of Earth
Deadman’s Mouth
The cloud/Pillar place in Steven The Sword Fighter
Rose’s Room
The Communications Hub
The underwater place the Glass of Time was in
The ice cavern the Shooting Star was in
Rose’s Fountain
The Geode
Galaxy Warp
Tropical Island of Geodes
Inside Lion's Mane
The Kindergarten
Warp Stream
Kindergarten Basement
Other
Space
The Pollen Field Flower Fields
The Train
Connie's House
Things
Gems
Rose Quartz
2 Garnets
Amethyst
Pearl
Centipeedles’ Mothers gem
(pants animating) Gem Shards
(maybe? pretty sure) The Lunar Goddess Statue
Eel’s Gem
Gem from Upside Down Pyramid
Dessert Glass
Starfish Mother Gem
The ROC in Giant Woman
Blowfish Gem
Ice Monster from Monster Buddies
Lapis Lazuli
(Animated Body Part) Gem Shards
Invisible Monster Gem
Unknown Gem from Garnet's Universe
Mr. Gusite (This is only thing I'll include from that episode)
Mystical Items
Summoned Weapons
Laser Light Cannon
Red Eye?
Lunar Goddess Statue
Cursed Painting
Replicator Wand (destroyed)
Button in the Cavern (and all that stuff)
Fire Salt
Glass of Time
Shooting Star
The Mirror
Warp Whistle
Warp Pads
The Protective Potato (according to Ronaldo)
Wailing Stone
Food (as it’s seemingly important to our little hero)
(discontinued) Cookie Cats
Lion Lickers
Fry Bits (Cat Fingers enjoy this too)
Hot Dogs (you wouldn't have them if all Pork Chops were perfect)
Together Breakfast
(offscreen) Pizza
(unmentioned) Cupcakes in jars
(not food) Cheeseburger backpack
Donuts
Fish Stew Pizza <-- Be sure to join the rewards program!
Giant Strawberries
Margarine to slick hair back
Sodas that he threw all over the place in Tiger Millionaire
Coconuts Sandwich Cereal (Arcade Mania)
Steven (for the bird in Giant Woman)
Cake
Aqua Mexico Burrito
Cream Pies (more a prop than food)
Bag of Chips
Burger for Onion’s Dad
Seagull’s banana peel and pizza
Cheeseburger Backpack full of snacks for the movie
Popcorn
Burgers (with a ridiculous amount of buns, lettuce, and silverware)
Creamed Corn
Cloud Donuts
Cloud Fry Bits
Fire Salt
“Special” Fries
Fire Donut
Kamikaze (directly in his mouth)
CHAAAPS
Mi Torta
Durian Juice
Sandwiches
Blow torch Grilled Cheese
Crying Breakfast Friends
Fish (caught by Sadie, Cooked by Lars)
Potatoes
Bread Sticks (Crab the Shack)
Shrimp (Crab the Shack)
Ringo's Onion Rings
Watermelon
Sadie's Lunch Bags
Sandwiches, cut into triangles (the only way a sandwich should be)
Star Shaped Cookie (you could say they're out of this world)
Chess piece for Dogcoptor in Steven's dream
Macaroni 'n nothing
Cheese packet
Moldy Sponges (Amethyst. . . 'nuff said)
Coffee ( how is this so far down on the list? Garnet drinks it for breakfast. . . )
Jar of Mayo sandwich. . . knives are good.
Packed in the bindle
Marshmallows (BONE MARROW)
Breakfast Only Breakfast Specials (hashbrowns)
Rebel Turkey Legs
Caprese Salad
Media
Let Me Drive My Van (Into Your Heart)
Lonely Blade
Dogcopter 3
Golf Quest
Crying Breakfast Friends
Training Video
Keep Beach City Weird
Under The Knife
For Steven
Citchen Calamity
Ninja Squad
New Ninja Squad
No Home Boys
Evil Bear 2: Bearly Alive (Come scream with me tonight.) (Uncut Version)
Li'l Butler
Passions of Xanxor
Unfamiliar Familiar series
Other
Guitar Dad T-Shirt
Vote 4 My Dad T-Shirt
T-Shirt Cannon
Likes and Dislikes So Far
Dislikes
Not a fan of the important role junk food plays in the show not as prevalent as it was before
I don’t relate to Steven much. He mostly annoys me. He's getting a bit more lovable. . . now it's Pearl that just really rubs me the wrong way (Probably because she thinks humans are insignificant).
Why is there not a main antagonist? Possibly Peridot or Homeworld Gems
Season 1: Episode 5 Frybo
Season 1: Episode 6 Cat Fingers
Season 1: Episode 18 Beach Party
Season 1: Episode 27 House Guest
Season 1: Episode 32 Fusion Cuisine
Season 1: Episode 48 Say Uncle
Likes
I like that all the answers to everything are not conveniently packaged in a single episode
I like Garnet…
and sometimes Amethyst…
Steven's constant struggle to figure out how to fit into his place in the Gems and complete lack of struggle to feel right at home with the humans. . .
I like Greg and his super awesome van
I like that it seemed like we landed in the middle of a life, rather than the beginning of a story… this continues to be true through every episode.
I like most of the townspeople and their relationships with Steven
I like Connie a lot. She is funny and smart and a perfect non-super for the story.
I like arcade games…
I like that there are so many details in the background like everywhere…
and it’s obvious the creators are nerds
I like Sour Cream
I like the representation of emotions related to motherhood that each of the Gems go through in their own ways.
I like that the makers of the show know what customer service is like. Either that or they have really disturbing imaginations.
I like that the show encourages people to think critically and discuss large questions.
I like that there is a whole dark seedy side that I’m only just peeking into.
Shh. . . Don't tell anyone. . . I also like Peridot She seems like a misunderstood geek girl just saying
I just want to remind everyone, I write these recaps after having only seen the episode once, a week ago, and often interrupted by my whole blogging thing. I mainly do it for myself to refresh my memory for the next episode, but since I post it, I thought I should ask your forgiveness if it isn’t exactly perfect (or even close). Don’t forget if you have a submission for artwork for today’s episode, submit before Friday using the link above, and I’ll pick one to use as the cover art.
#suliveblogchrono#liveblog#Steven Universe#grailbotliveblogs#Universe048#Say Uncle#Recap#List of Lists
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The future has fangs
Colleseum AU timeline. Set post SUF 3k words.
Chapter 2 : A tiger in the woods.
The dining room was surprisingly quite empty as Steven and Connie began their breakfast. The manager, a nice lady with short hair, had chalked it up to Beach City incidents driving people away lately. He likely would have found that funny if it weren't for… well. You know.
"So, let's start again-" Connie chirped from behind a mouthful of buttered toast. Her back a little stiff after sleeping on the brick-like mattresses of the B&B. "You'd heard weird noises all night but didn't go check it out?"
"It's been keeping me awake, yeah. I thought maybe it was just a wild animal but…" He trailed off, picking with little appetite at the chunky breakfast sausage sitting on his plate, eventually giving up and tossing it to lion with a sigh. "I guess I thought once I left Beach city all the gem stuff would start going away."
A soft ache at Connie's chest forced her mouth to twist into a sad smile. Of course Steven wanted to get away from it all. It was just an awfully timed coincidence that a corrupted gem of all things would appear now. "Well, since we're only a day or so away, we could poof it and I can deliver it to the gems to cleanse the corruption. You don't have to come back if you don't want to."
The awkward expression he gave her quickly shut that idea down, remembering that Steven would need to be present to actually fix the gem. As much as taking a bottle of his spit back would work, in theory, it wasn't a particularly pleasant plan.
"No." He resigned, pushing the mostly empty plate away in defeat. "It's no big deal, just one more gem, right?" The concern in Connie's eyes was almost convincing, but he soon stood up and nodded firmly to confirm his thoughts. "Don't worry, Connie. If I wanted to say no I'd say no. Or I'd make some kind of joke about it..."
Her little chortling sounded like music to his ears. So goofy and sweet. The good kind of pink flush rushed to his rounded cheeks as she rose from her seat and shook her head. "I couldn't convince you not to if I tried, Steven Universe, but it was worth a shot." Her eyes sparkle with an idea, Lion nosing his head onto her plate to grab at the leftovers. "You know, there is one thing you could do to make this better for the both of us."
"And-" Steven is caught during the reply as Connie hopped forward to plant a peck on his cheek. "-uh, wuh, what would that be?" He stammered, blinking away the kiss with a giddy smile.
"I want you to sit this one out." It was clear and concise. Confidently worded as she let her hand linger on his shoulder, watching for the predictable 'wait what?' expression before continuing. "I can handle this, Steven." Her smile lowered, eyes drifting to lion who had finished clearing their plates and was grooming one of the many spots of missing fur from yesterday. "I really don't think-"
"Thank you."
That one little phrase stopped Connie in her tracks, eyes flicking back to him in surprise. "I… guess it was obvious I really don't want to fight, huh." He chuckled running a hand up the back of his neck. "I get it, too, that I'm not really ok to be… I don't feel comfortable after…" Oh Steven. She understood perfectly well, that's why she even brought it up. But to accept that, and understand, was already such a big leap. She didn't know whether to feel proud or pity him.
She pulled him into a soft, warm, one armed hug. Patting his back a few times before they both cleaned up their table and bid farewell to the cheerful manager. Connie pullined the heavy Pink sword from Lion's mane as they approached the main road, hoisting it up onto her shoulder with one arm while her free hand lay interlocked with Stevens.
The distant rolling thunder of cars surfing over the well kept roads almost gave the outdoors some form of white noise. The brushing of leaves and twittering of small sparrows overtaking the city symphony as they hurried across the asphalt and into the treeline. Her knees and hands, all the way up to the wrist, had been wrapped in clean, sturdy, bandages. The many little scrapes from yesterday were a learning experience, already healed with Steven's help.
The woodlands were just as they had been yesterday. Yet the sky was much different. Swirling wisps of cloud danced around like silk, taken easily in the cool breeze. The sun, not yet having risen enough to beam brightly, cast the horizon in deep golds and oranges. It reminded Steven of his early mornings back home. Rushing to the big doughnut to meet Sadie and Lars. Getting early access to last night's fry-bits from Peedee. It was a warm, Cozy feeling to be thinking of those kinds of mornings.
The minutes flew by, as did yesterday's landmarks. Passing the monolith, then the arrow-trail, and finally coming to the clearing from before. Steven took a long sigh-like breath as he finally let go of Connie and the both of them warily explored the battlezone.
He remembered the direction the gem had taken off in, but felt at a loss when he tried to imagine how far it may have gone by now. After all, gems don't need sleep like they did. And for all he knows it could have been running since their encounter. Broken twigs, a vaguely large break in the opposing bushes...
"Steven, come look at this." Connie squatted into a spry crouch, interested in the dirt, which as he got closer revealed a little glimmer of a clue. "Pawprints." She mumbled. A hand wandering idly down to touch the deep indentation in the dust. It was wide, and only had three toes, making a perfect match got the gem they had seen before. A little further forward was another, and around the same area slightly less defined triangular prints also started to show. Marks of the two-toed back feet by the looks of it.
"They look like the right size. What do you think, lion?” He asked cheerily, ruffling Lion's airy mane as the big cat stooped down to sniff at the trail. Dust and specks of grit flew away from his muzzle on every loud exhale. Taking slow meandering steps over the indentations, his ears pricking up every so often like two twitchy antennae. Finally satisfied, he turned around to look eagerly back at Steven and Connie.
Hesitation was gripping tediously at Steven's bones as he watched Connie stand up and dust off her knees, wanting to reach out and call the whole thing off so what happened yesterday wouldn't repeat itself. But he knew that wasn't an option anymore. He had faith in her but that faith alone couldn't fight away the gnawing unease of the task ahead.
Lion stayed just a pace behind the troublesome duo, eyes wandering idly of their own accord. The bushes they passed had lingering traces of the beast and with every step closer his tail twitched just a little harder.
It had hurt him, but not out of anger or savagery. No. It was scared. Lost. Abandoned? His first instinct might have been to observe it with curiosity had it not so suddenly attacked Connie. After all, that's exactly what he'd been doing for a week now. Watching it. Following it. The ambush was unexpected. If he'd known it would have behaved so destructively toward his little human companion he never would have brought her.
The slow crawl of changing scenery eventually escaped the dense trees, out into open air. Large walls of stone jutted out of the ground like steep pedestals hosting unknown treasures on top. The tracks they had been following vanished as dirt gave way to gravel and Lion suddenly halted. The scent trail gems left behind would generally grow stronger the closer they got, and right now it was pretty strong.
"Do you think it's here?" Connie whispered gingerly while letting her blade droop in her grasp.
Steven's stomach was in knots. It twisted and wrenched around itself and yet he managed to keep the feeling subdued by watching Connie's face. Her eyes were narrowed and intense. He didn't need to ask to know what was going on in that head of hers. Such blazing determination; it was infectious. "Yeah. It's got to be here." He took a breath, reaching into Lion's mane with an awkward rummage before pulling something small out. "Stand still."
"What?" She made no moves, expecting danger, but instead was greeted by his hands moving softly through her hair. "-Oh." Trying not to catch any stray tangles as he guided it all into a messy ponytail and twisted on a hairband. Earning a sweet smile as a result. "Thank you, Steven!"
The mushy moment didn't last long as without delay Connie took lead of the walk forward. Everyone's eyes scanned the available horizon until not even a minute into the search they found their prize. Snuffling over the cold stone floor, its muzzle pressing to the dust, with its tail dragging along behind it.
The gem’s ragged pelt rippled golden under the tinted dawn light. Heavy shadows from surrounding pillars casting darkness over large strips of the open area. It didn't seem to notice the approaching trio until Connie slid down a noisy bank of loose pebbles and tumbling rocks. Despite not being able to see any eyes beyond the mounds of fur, she could feel its pinpoint glare lock onto her the moment it looked her way. It’s fur prickled uncomfortably before laying flat again on noticing Lion and Steven still stashed away at the top of the sheer slide.
An eerie silence alerted Connie to the slow drumming of her pulse in her ears. Guarded and tense as her eyes bore into the creatures bottomless hair. She could feel her palms clam up with sweat underneath the bandage straps, frowning as it stayed statuesque in a frozen crouch.
Yesterday's fight had by no means been one sided. Even after Lion received one too many injuries Connie had held her ground with impressive technique. The creature fought with an air of predictability. A savage instinct that worked to make it stronger yet easier to anticipate. Many of its moves had been so heavily telegraphed she began to wonder if it was being intentionally slow.
The creature took cautious lumbering steps forward, smooth muzzle creasing, low grinding snarls serving as a warning to the determined human still menacingly standing there. The pink blade reflected soft sparkles of light across the floor with a rosy tint. Time fell to a sluggish crawl, neither making a move without the other instigating it. Connie’s patience was stretched further and further, like a boiling tea kettle. Her sweaty palms readjusted on the sword’s thorn-patterned hilt. Teeth began to grind. “Come on….” She hissed under a delayed breath, shuddering at the feeling of their onlooker’s eyes on the back of her neck. “Stop waiting, come at me!”
A thunderous screech echoed off of the surrounding stones. The gem, finally giving way to the human’s harsh demands, charged forward. It was only a few leaps until the colossal figure collided with Connie’s sword. A clash of razor claws on pearly metal threw sparks as its onslaught of blows bounced harmlessly, but not effortlessly, away from the blade. Connie’s feet danced across the dirt in quick, calm, movements. She was ready for a fight today.
The gem’s Sharp fangs glimmered, reflecting Connie’s face in their smooth polished edges, almost glowing the further into the fight they went. It was hard not to imagine them closing around her arms and shattering the bones inside. A gritty taste invaded Connie’s mouth as their brawl began to throw up clouds of dust.
The beast lowered, a sign Connie recognised immediately from yesterday. A pounce was coming. If it landed on her the amount of force would knock her over. Thinking quickly, she rolled to the left, making sure to stay away from the direction of the glaring sun so it couldn’t get in her eyes. As predicted the gem lunged forward at the moment she dodged, heavy legs swatting onto the sooty stone. Her sword sailed in a wide arc, whistling as she aimed for the Beast’s head…
The sudden drop in momentum was jarring. A reverberating rattle of metal on hard light. The gem’s mouth had caught the blade mid-swing. Connie’s wide eyes tried to process the sight as it too stood silent for a moment before it tugged at the sword, almost pulling it from her grip. Connie, wincing, shoulder still ringing from the sudden impact, dug her shoes into the pebble-ridden ground. She attempted to keep hold of the weapon while dark rumbles roll out of the creature’s mouth.
Finally it let go, though she wasn’t ready for it, and a hard pull sent her stumbling backwards onto the floor. Steven, who had been keeping a hand in Lion's mane for security, stiffened at the sight. The Gem leaned over her, a paw on either side of her legs, while she stared up at it, frozen.
“...Grrfff.” It huffed, almost disappointed. The beast blew hot air across Connie’s face before it turned around and walked away, leaving her lying propped up on padded elbows with a confused look cemented onto her face. She stared up at where its muzzle had just been before blinking repeatedly and groaning, hauling herself back onto her feet.
Steven’s head felt like it was going to implode, finally breathing out a long weighty breath he didn’t realise was being held. That was lucky. Hold on. No it wasn’t. That was intentional. His brow creased as he walked to the steep gravelly drop, watching the Gem circle away from Connie and then back again. Re-aligning itself in front of her and shaking off the dust that had settled in its mane. “It’s fighting because she asked it to.” The realisation hit like a puzzle piece being put in place. Sucking in air with surprise, he cupped both hands up in front of his mouth. “Connie, it’s sparring with you!”
Connie’s sword hand wobbled uncomfortably as she aimed the blade back at the monster. Conflicted feelings clouded her senses as it once again lurched forward into an attack. Early training days with Pearl echoed in her head. The choreographed movements, the less frantic fighting, stopping on someone’s defeat instead of following through… and then the corrupted gems she had faced before with Steven. Savage and desperate. Life threatening and high-stakes with no hesitation on either side of the field to finish the fight.
A surge of adrenaline brought a thunderous cry of effort out of her throat, slamming the flat side of the sword across the beast’s face instead of rolling away. The charge redirected as it stumbled over its own feet from the impact and crumpled to the ground, enough momentum in its run to have it roll aimlessly across the stone for a moment. It lay dizzy and dazed from the unexpected strike.
This time the creature was the one on the ground and it was Connie’s turn to blot out the sun. Planting a foot on its large forearm, she lifted the blade to its head, looking down at the creature with an impossible to read expression. In the background, Lion and Steven slid over the steep ledge and made their way to the pair. Connie sighed, lowering the sword again, and took a step away. She couldn’t poof it. It wasn’t like fighting any other corrupted gem they’d encountered before. It wasn’t just some mindless force of destruction. And neither was she.
“Connie, that was amazing!” Steven’s cheers brought her thoughts crashing back to the present as he grabbed her in a big, tight hug. “Not really what we came here to do but… I mean, I think you won, right?” He chuckled, looking from her embarrassed face to the gem beast still lying comfortably on the floor with what almost looked like a smile.
She patted the back of his jacket, looking uneasily from him to Lion and finally the creature. “I guess?” The patient looking expression on its face made her brows raise in curiosity, confirming a few lingering thoughts as the beast dipped its head in a single nod as a response. “But what about yesterday? Why would it be so aggressive then but not now? I don’t know, Steven, this one is… strange.”
“Huh, you’re right.” He mused, pulling a hand up to his mouth in thought, side-eyeing their potentially dangerous ‘acquaintance’ with a squint. “I can’t say about when you first ran into it, but when I got there it seemed pretty afraid, right? Maybe something else has been fighting it?”
Connie sighed heavily, a smile creeping back onto her face as she watched Lion approach the creature with caution. They stretched out to sniff at each others’ muzzles, despite the beast having no visible nose, and then Lion inevitably recoiled with a passive aggressive growl. They were very clearly not fond of each other, but neither made any attempt to bother the other outside of a few wayward chuffs and grumbles.
“So… what do we do? If we can’t poof it-”
“We should give it a name.” He cut her off, carrying on as Connie stared at him as if his hair had just turned into feathers. “We can’t just call them ‘it’ all the time, right? You fought it, so why don’t you name it?”
She blinked, taking a second to process the request before shaking her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Alright.” She brushed his goofy smile away with feigned irritability, trying to keep a straight face and only failing on turning back to the two large balls of fur. Lion seemed to be batting curiously at the creature’s large tail. Which it was obviously trying to ignore, flicking the tail’s clubbed end back and forth in an effort to keep it out of his puffy pink paws.
“How about…” Connie’s eyes wandered over the beast's body, settling time and time again on the large burnt orange stripes lining their arms and legs. “Weeee have Lion… so why not Tiger?”
At once the creature’s uninterested posture stiffened and it stood up. Eyeing Connie with an intensity that made her feel like a target. But, by the looks of it, Steven didn’t seem to be affected as much as she was, clapping his hands together as he beamed. “Tiger! What do you think, do you like that name?” he chirped, grabbing the gem’s attention with the word.
Connie pouted for a moment and placed both hands firmly at her hips. “If all gems are named after real gemstones… amethyst, garnet, pearl. Do you think it’s possible this is a tiger’s eye?”
“Maybe. I can’t remember meeting a tiger’s eye before. Do you think they all look like this?”
“I don’t think we’ve seen any gem that chooses to look like it's corrupted. We really need to ask the Gems about this. They’ll know.”
#su#suf#suf au#steven universe#steven universe future au#connie maheswaran#Tiger's eye#steven universe oc#su oc#gem oc#lion#keep in mind it's an AU not a direct follow on to the original show#there are changes#some might not make sense right away
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~ A V X Reader set in an Alternate Universe wherein Nero supposedly beats Urizen that 16th of May. 🖤
~ This chapter is dedicated to the 49 people who liked the first chapter, especially @acieoj and @heaven-on-a-landslide . Thank you so much! 🖤
~ Cover made by yours, truly. 🖤
***
II
"Break this heavy chain
That does freeze my bones around!
Selfish, vain,
Eternal bane,
That free love of bondage bound."
The female tourist guide, who had been anxiously glancing at V from a distance, finally mustered up enough courage to approach him with a nervous smile. She cleared her throat, hoping to get immediately noticed without ever having to call his attention in a not - so civilized way.
Fortunately for her, her heavy and noisy footsteps against the rocky pathway proved to be very efficient for gaining attention.
V looked up from the wonderful world of William Blake's book of poetic sketches and smiled at her, adding to the poor woman's already escalating discomfort.
"Ahh, I,..." the lady stuttered, not sure how to address the dire situation to V.
He graciously decided to end her conversational torture. "You do look like something has been bothering you. How can I be of service?" he said, his low, raspy voice not helping with the lady's nerves.
"Yes, well." she began, then inhaled sharply through her nose. She then pointed at the bird on V's left shoulder, and the huge cat lying on his feet. "The other guests are getting anxious of your,... ahh,... pets."
Immediately picking up on the woman's concern, V nodded and actually laughed. The first time in about three weeks since that day. "I see. Don't worry." He stood up from the comfort of the wooden bench near the ruins of the temple, making his "pets" move away from him. He strode towards the woman, lips curled up in a devilish yet adorable smirk. "These are my loyal,... companions. They would bring no harm to any of the innocent people here. That,..." the tone of his voice suddenly became lower as he twirled his metal cane playfully. "I can assure you."
The lady let out a helpless laugh, then nodded. "Okay. Whatever you say." She hastily moved away from him to give herself a safe distance from V's famliars and clumsily pointed at the breathtaking horizon. "Well, now, enjoy your stay here at Delphi!"
As Griffon watched the retreating form of the tourist guide with laughter in its devilishly yellow eyes, V's green ones scanned the beautiful place. Delphi really was a marvel, an ancient beauty that must've took even the most vile of the Demons' breath away.
He closed his book, put it away for a while, and proceeded to explore the place, particularly the ruins of Apollo's temple, where the tourist bus dropped him.
"So, V,..." Griffon said, catching up to his master. "Are we going to look for that thing there?"
"Not this time." V answered. "For now, I need to take a rest and reflect upon our journey, so far."
It's true. V, and the rest of his familiars, have been on a vagabond tour around the world, visiting places like Delphi. First, he visited Egypt's infamous pyramids, then he proceeded to China's mysterious terracotta tombs. He also went to the Himalayas ( he didn't stay there for long, considering the weather ), then Norway. He had been to such places in just three weeks that he had to keep a separate journal where he logs in about the details of his journey.
It's not like he just wanted to or anything.
The truth was - he failed in his initial mission to merge with Urizen that fifteenth of May. Who knew that boy Nero had enough power within him to beat his demonic half? So, thanks to the boy, he could no longer regain his full self.
But, it wasn't entirely the boy's fault. As a matter of fact, it all rooted from one foolish decision that changed his life forever.
It was all because of his desire to gain more power in order to defeat his twin brother.
And now, he had no choice but to search for a different kind of power - any kind - this time, to save himself.
To prevent his human flesh from crumbling.
Thus, started his vagabond ways alongside Griffon, Shadow, Nightmare, and -
"The Yamato really does wonders, huh?" Griffon said, then chuckled, ruffling his own feathers in delight with tiny shakes. "Who knew it would go directly to you and not to that kid Nero?"
"For one thing, I' am the rightful owner of the Yamato, not the boy Nero." V answered as he skipped some rocks along the pathway that led to the ruins of the temple. "I think it was fitting that it answered to me. But, as grateful as I' am that it was returned to me," he said, stopping at what looked like the remains of an altar. "I must not abuse my fragile body by using it over and over to transport us. You see," he began tracing the remains with the tip of his cane. "It consumes way too much of my,... demonic power. I must be wary of that fact."
"Aha, so that's why we had to hitch that stinkin' bus ride with that awful bitch! Didn't know how to keep her mouth shut!" Of course, Griffon was refering to the tourist guide who called him a pet earlier.
"Now, be nice to our little human." V reprimanded the demonic bird. "We will 'hitch' on the same vehicle on the way back."
"Ugh! Not again,..."
As Griffon threw tantrums for every tourist in the remains of Apollo's temple to see, V's eyes wandered at the altar and thought of that beloved story his mother read to him a very long time ago. He closed his eyes and searched through his tired mind for the right words, finally arriving at some that gave his heart a little ache of nostalgia.
"As she comes to the city, hollow hands empty,
Eyes open to what lies in wait for her,"
As V recited the very few lines he could remember of that beloved poem from his childhood, Shadow started purring, rubbing his legs with her huge form like she was a normal house cat. V smiled, knowing that he had, at least, one interested audience. Then, he went on.
"She does not weep nor wail,
In her eyes, home has always been burning."
All of a sudden, Shadow stopped purring. In fact, she stopped moving. She has become rigid, looking like a statue in front of V. He and Griffon noticed this and took note of her glowing red eyes that slowly turned bright blue.
V's eyes widened in surprise.
"Curious." He muttered under his breath.
Griffon flew towards him and whispered, "She's acting hella weird. What do we do to her?"
V smiled and took a sideways glance at Griffon.
"Then, we'll have the perfect opportunity to put your new skill on display for the audience."
"What?! Right here?!"
"Right here." V answered, not once losing his resolve. "Right now."
"And what's in it for me, huh, Shakespeare?"
"I will,... forever be,... in your debt." V said, holding up his right arm and using his cane to point towards the bright, sunny, sky.
"Okay! As if I could refuse."
"I' am truly grateful."
"Yeah, yeah." Griffon huffed, then flew towards the sky, high above the ruins of Apollo's temple.
As V watched the demonic bird flew around the air, he could not help but regret his decision. He yearned to see this place. It was, after all, the place from that precious story, as told to him by his beloved mother. Of course, he wanted to stay, to bask in the warm, sunny weather, to learn the ways of the locals, to be able to speak their native tongue, to know the rich history of the land, to dive into the hidden knowledge and wisdom Apollo has to offer,...
But, as the situation called, they, he, must act immediately.
And as V glanced back at his dark, petrified familiar, he noticed that the atmosphere was slowly turning heavy. Griffon was beginning to work his new magic.
"Alright, you weird folks!" The bird said as he flapped his wings, summoning all the power he had. "Party's over! Go home!"
Griffon spread his wings, letting power in the form of electricity run through them, and folded them once more. As he let out a guttural sound, he spread his beautiful blue wings once more, releasing a different kind of power that made his eyes white. But, this time, the electricity didn't land on the ground like what always happens when they're fighting against other Demons. The almost unnoticeable currents reached the clouds and crawled throughout the sky, instantly enveloping the immediate vicinity with darkness.
As the people looked up, they realized that it was going to rain. But, another flap of Griffon's wings summoned numerous lightning bolts from the sky that crashed to the ground, narrowly missing everyone by mere inches.
After a minute of his stormy display, Griffon flew down back beside V, knowing that his mission was a success, which was an understatement, considering the fact that none of the tourists were hurt.
"Okay, Shakespeare, coast is clear." He said to the man, feeling proud of his new skill.
"Thank you." V smiled at the bird, then turned back to Shadow, who was literally melting. "And now, for the task at hand,..."
V closed his eyes, then held out his left hand in front of Shadow. The action instantly triggered a reaction from the rigid Demon, making its form disintegrate and fall to the ground like shattered glass. With a different gesture of his hand, V made the shattered glass rise up once more from the ground, letting it take shape, forming jet black vines that grew and grew until they were as tall as the pillars of the temple. One last hand movement from V made the vines grew equally dark roses of all sizes.
As Shadow morphed into multiple vines, V took a step back, waiting and waiting, until the largest rose sprout out from one of the vines. He and Griffon watched in awe as the black rose opened, revealing something inside. He took a step forward and pulled it out of the flower. It was the Yamato, and it was glowing in a very unusual way.
"What is wrong with that thing?" Griffon asked as he looked at the Yamato and its radiance. "Did that thing go like that before?"
"If memory serves me right," V began, unsheathing the sword and letting the blinding blue light from the blade splash around his surroundings. "It did so, just one time when,..."
All of a sudden, the light became even more blinding as the sword became warmer and warmer in V's hands.
"Whoah! No wonder that cat's acting weird!" Griffon shrieked, hiding behind V. "You made her eat a laser sword!"
"Hush." V said, seemingly unaffected by the light of the Yamato. "It beckons me. It seems that it wanted me,... someplace else."
"Will you go, V? You still haven't recovered from your last journey!"
"I know." V answered as he positioned the sword high above the air. "But, I also know not to ignore the Yamato's call."
And with two clean swipes, V managed to create a portal that led to some place that seemed to softly glow, like a warm sunset. Or sunrise.
"Let's go." V said, calling both Griffon and Shadow back to him and entering the portal.
***
🖤🖤🖤
#devil may cry 5#v#amwriting#work in progress#griffon#shadow#i see my future before me#yamato#apollo#v x reader#v x you#chapter 2
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鎮魂 Guardian [Zhen Hun] extra 3 full translation
No real spoilers in this one, just fluff and crack. [TN: the other extras are here, you may want to check out #4 for notes on names.] Original Chinese character count: 4363 English Translation + notes word count: 4042
===
Later, the Special Investigation Department moves away from 4 Bright Road to 9 University Road, just one pedestrian crossing away from Dragon City University.
Lin Jing lingers at their old address just before the move, reluctant to leave and goes around and around the empty office with his recently upgraded equipment — a long barrel SLR camera — and photographs every last detail; not even the cobwebs escapes his scrutiny. When he’s done, Lin Jing picks out the few he’s satisfied with and sends them to a magazine publisher, hoping to make a name for himself in the “Former Haunts” series.
Thus leading to the editor-in-chief of the magazine suffering a great blow to his delicate psyche.
The editor-in-chief ends up in the hospital over the incident, and reporting what they perceived as a 'malignant, intentional manufacturing of supernatural photographs for the purpose of scaring people" to the police. As familial shame cannot be spread abroad, Zhao-chu can only show his face and quietly settle things behind the scenes. When he comes back, he beats the crap out of that idiot fake monk in the path of his innocent gaze.
Eat, sleep, beat Lin Jing; the crew at 9 University Road finally fall back into their ordinary, everyday routine.
The accommodation at their new office is decadent to the extreme, with a sunny attic upstairs and a double cellar below. The second cellar houses their book collection, while the first cellar is a shrine-like space with a mahjong table surrounded by a circle of memorial tablets. During the day it provides a resting place for their ghost employees, and any individual suffering from insomnia can get up and play a round of mahjong.
… And so, during the day, one can often hear the sound of shuffling mahjong tiles from the mysteriously locked first cellar.
On the top floor, the attic is warm and bright with sunshine, painted with a thick layer of soundproofing paint; those who are tired can take a noon nap, and opening the windows affords one the view of the whole courtyard — unfortunately there is no beautiful scenery to be had.
Since members of the S.I.D. could not come to an agreement regarding a plan for the garden, there’s no unified theme. After they divided up the space, the courtyard has become a weird mixture of styles containing a little bit of everything.
Zhao Yunlan claims the entire rear courtyard for himself. With an oddly cultivated aesthetic that has nothing at all to do with the arts that he’s ignored his whole life through, he vetoes Zhu Hong’s favoured Japanese roses, vetoes Chu Shuzhi’s suggestion of vines, vetoes Lin Jing’s request of a Bodhi tree … ultimately planting an entire rear courtyard worth of vegetables.
There’s mini cole, cherry tomatoes, pumpkin seedlings, pea sprouts, Chinese cedar sprouts … a veritable neighbourhood of assorted vegetables growing side by side. In the middle of it all stands a coquettish eggplant surrounded by all the other plants the way stars surround the moon.
[TN: 風騷茄子 / Coquettish Eggplant is a dish…this ia a pun.]
Zhao Yunlan hints that come winter he’ll even fill the entire rear courtyard with bok choi.
From then onwards, neither mortal nor ghost has played in the rear courtyard that has become a vegetable garden.
By the time Shen Wei finishes class, the sun has already begun inclining towards the west. It’s still warm outside, and the short stroll from school even counting the time it takes to wait for the light to change is only five, six minute at most.
The entire staff of the S.I.D. each holds a copy of Teacher Shen’s class schedule. They wait eagerly for his arrival daily as one watches for the stars and the moon. There was once a time that the soldiers skipping out on work along with the leader was routine, because when the ceiling beams are crooked the pillars came along; since their leader Zhao Yunlan stopped messing around and started calmly spending all his days in the office like a hermit though, those days are long gone.
In this respect, everyone feels a little depressed, even in light of their new surroundings.
Yet when Teacher Shen arrives he can always swiftly take the leader away. And if the leader is gone, naturally it implies that everyone else can leave work early as well.
As he steps through the door, Shen Wei is greeted by countless “good day Teacher Shen” and “good work Teacher Shen” and many more besides along with such fervent looks from everyone that it’s borderline like the staff are held in enemy territory awaiting a liberating army. Shen Wei finds it hard to adapt to this at first, but as time goes by he’s no longer fazed by all the attention.
Guo Changcheng is zoning out, Zhu Hong is doing some online stopping, Chu Shuzhi is watching the candlestick graph, Lin Jing is tinkering with a new model of wiretapping device: a fish scale-like thing the size of a girl’s fingernail that turns invisible and records in secret once it sticks to anything.
Black cat Daqing nests on the staircase handrail, waving his tail at Shen Wei. “He’s in the attic.”
Shen Wei makes an approving hum, nods as he says “Thank you,” but when he’s just about to pass by, he lifts a brow slightly and glances at Daqing. “Be careful, don’t fall off now.”
… The handrail only looks half as big as Daqing’s stomach. The way he’s lying prone on top of it looks extremely weird.
Daqing stares blankly for a full second, then with a wail he turns into an angry furball. “I’m practicing—Yo—ga! What’s wrong with practicing yoga? You got a problem with that?”
Keeping a smile on his face, Shen Wei reaches out to stroke his head, and goes upstairs.
Daqing furiously drapes himself back down on the handrail. Lin Jing asks, teasing, “Aiyoh, little princeling Daqing, which yoga pose are you practicing?”
Daqing says after a pause, “Cat pose.”
Those who follow the Way never lies, so goes the doctrine. Lin Jing appropriately shows his evaluation with a peal of laughter.
… As a result he gained two new bloody scratches on his face. The wiretap in his hand goes flying towards destination unknown, turning invisible.
Lao-Li, who’s always appearing without a sound and vanishing without a trace, appears now to quietly supply cotton swabs and bandages as if he’s the hapless master responsible for the aftermath of his cat’s crimes. Yet the cat has no appreciation for his love at all, and doesn’t bother with even a snort as he jumps off the railing into a cat stretch and leaving the scene.
There are times when such a thing as love is like a fragile pane of glass. It doesn’t matter what kind of love it is: nothing can glue it back together after it shatters, even if the ones involved no longer cared, even if they have already chosen to forgive.
That’s why a person should be faithful to oneself unto death. Whether choosing to be so selfish as to hurt countless without regrets, or to cherish another’s affection from the beginning, even at the risk of looking like a fool.
Shen Wei pushes open the door to the top floor lightly. There’s a sofa bed in the attic situated for a full day of sunlight, and Zhao Yunlan naps there with a blanket thrown across his waist, fingers still trapped between the pages of a book in his hands.
Shen Wei approaches quietly, stooping to kiss him lightly on the lips. Zhao Yunlan doesn’t bother opening his eyes, he hums lazily with sleep and says, “You’re done with class?”
Shen Wei answers with an agreeing noise, reaching out to prop up Zhao Yunlan by his back so he can sit down. “Wake up a little. It’s not early anymore, and if you fall asleep again you won’t be able to sleep later.”
Zhao Yunlan takes advantage of the shift in position to lie down on Shen Wei’s thighs. Yawning, he says blearily, “I didn’t actually want to sleep.”
With half-lidded eyes he waves the “Vegetable Planting Techniques” in his hands and grumbles, “I’m telling you, this book has to be cursed. I can’t ever get to the first chapter. Just the forward is enough to knock someone out. I only made it to the 8th page now and I’m still stuck in the introduction.”
Shen Wei picks it up and flips through its pages. It’s a textbook from the agricultural university, and not a single centimetre of white space is wasted — even the pictures are black and white and so serious it has no entertainment value whatsoever. Shen Wei puts it aside and says without thinking, “Why do you bother reading it? If luck’s on their side, whichever seed you sow may even chance into a refined essence and become Yao. There is no chance that any of them wouldn’t grow.”
Zhao Yunlan says, “No, only science and technology is the primary productive force.”
[TN. he’s quoting fundamental principle of Marxism here so that’s why SW makes fun of him.]
Shen Wei says after a pause, “Why don’t you go back to study science and technology then.”
Zhao Yunlan rolls his eyes, and harbouring ulterior motives, says, “The primary productive force and I are jinxed. It reduces me to sleep in a single glance.”
[TN. 犯克 roughly means “it disagrees with my birth hour.” So it does mean jinxed, but with him ONLY.]
Shen Wei looks down, discovering that whatever sleepiness in Zhao Yunlan’s pitch black eyes have already evaporated, and they stare up at him with wordless amusement.
Zhao Yunlan reaches around so he’s holding Shen Wei by the waist. “If I can’t keep reading, then I’ll forget my meals, my mood will plunge, and if it goes on any longer I’ll fall into a depression!”
Shen Wei just looks at him without saying a word.
One lie after another comes out of Zhao Yunlan’s mouth. “Listen, the suicide rate is really high in Northern Europe because the cold climate leads to depression. Kunlun mountain is covered in ice and snow that never melts — it doesn’t even have heat, so my bones must carry the genes for depression.”
Shen Wei is silent for a time before saying, “You must forgive my inability to see this.”
Zhao Yunlan says, “You must not love me anymore! You … man of easy virtue!”
[TN. ZYL says SW has a “nature as ever changing as running water and alights on all like flower petals,” and it’s usually a phrase meaning ‘fickle woman.’]
Shen Wei pushes at his temple as if to hold back a headache. “Stop acting so spoiled. What would you like?”
Zhao Yunlan laughs a mischievous laugh, revealing a row of neat white teeth.
“Fine. I’ll read it to you when we get home,” Shen Wei says, helplessly gentle, before uncomfortably averting his gaze. “But if you’re going to listen, then be good and listen. If you get drowsy listening then sleep. You’re not allowed to mess around.”
His ears are taking on a flush, and he looks like a half-willing young bride that’s just been picked on by an evil tyrant taking liberties, only half-willing because he’s left without a choice.
Zhao Yunlan grabs hold of Shen Wei’s collar indignantly and pulls him closer. “Can I trouble you not to be such a pure white lotus okay baby? From the fucking moment we met 'til now have I ever successfully taken a single dime of advantage of you … fine I’ll admit I’ve had more criminal attempts, but I haven’t any criminal reality!”
Shen Wei hastens to placate him. “Okay okay okay, get up. Let’s go home.”
“I can’t.” Zhao Yunlan turns his face to the side, expressionless. “The muscles in my lower back are strained.”
Shen Wei says softly, bashful, “Then should I carry you?”
Zhao Yunlan takes a look at him in silence, and stands up in silence. He finds that his back doesn’t hurt at all anymore — but he does feel a pang in his stomach.
As soon as they step through the front door, the rest of the staff scatter like birds and beasts. Zhu Hong’s the first to slip out, with Lin Jing closely following. Chu Shuzhi pours himself a cup of cheap tea, holding fast until the stock market closes before leisurely putting things away. As he’s about to go he raises his head to discover that Guo Changcheng still hasn’t left yet.
[TN. 茶水 / cha shui / lit. tea water / cheap tea is the kind of tea you get in diners, usually ceylon, comes in a plastic cup, made with cheaper leaves and brewed bulk in a metal dispenser.]
The room is empty save for them. Guo Changcheng sitting there staring into space without a word looks like a painted stage set, dazed to distraction. Chu Shuzhi asks casually, “Why haven’t you left yet?”
As if shaken from a dream, Guo Changcheng trembles violently and bumps the water-dwelling plant, spilling it all over his desk.
Chu Shuzhi subconsciously reaches for his own face; suspecting that maybe he’s been slack in the cultivation of his arts and his livor-mortis is showing, somehow managing to scare this unfortunate child until he’s beside himself.
Guo Changcheng stammers, “I um I’m leaving,” and cleans up in a flurry of activity.
Chu Shuzhi can read body language well enough, so he asks, “Are you planning to go bomb a bunker? Why do you look like you’re going to war?”
If Guo Changcheng has a pair of dog ears, he guesses now they would be drooping.
Twenty minutes later, the two emerge from 9 University Road with Chu Shuzhi furrowing his brow and coming to a conclusion. “That is to say, your second uncle wants you to go to a xiangqin.”
[TN. 相親 / Xiangqin. A marriage interview arranged by a matchmaker. A direct equivalent is the Japanese o-miai. The characters mean mutual-intimacy.]
A spray of sparks explodes out of Guo Changcheng’s pocket.
Chu Shuzhi quickly sidesteps. “Watch it. What’s with the groundless worry? Is this girl you’re meeting a tigress?”
To avoid setting his pants on fire, Guo Changcheng hurriedly takes the stun baton out of his pocket, but that only attracts the attention of passersby instead; they don’t even manage to make it to the parking lot before the traffic cop at the crosswalk yells at them, “What’s going on? You can’t set off fireworks within city limits! Where’s your sense of civic responsibility?”
Chu Shuzhi silently covers his face and pretends to look up at the sky.
The lich king is reclusive and detached; aside from the occasional garrulous words he exchanges with acquaintances, his entire person gives off an aura of do not approach, so he’s often lonely in the cold emptiness of his life. Outside of cultivating his essence, he has little to do in the long hours outside of work, leaving his well-hidden desire to gossip eternally unsatisfied. He feels a sudden curiosity of how this human custom of xiangqin is conducted, and with a tone like he’s volunteering to join a war, he says, “Ok, stop spraying fireworks. You’ll get a fine. Why don’t we do this — I’ll sit by you pretending to be just another customer the whole time for your xiangqin, alright?”
[TN. 屍王 / lit. corpse king. I suppose it could also read “necromancer” but he’s a corpse himself, so closer to a lich.]
Guo Changcheng gives him a tortured look, and from Chu Shuzhi’s solemn face he can just glean a hint of the curiosity of a gossiping fishwife.
They arrive more than thirty minutes earlier than the appointed time, and it’s only after Chu Shuzhi flip through an entire old magazine to pass the time before the girl arrives.
Chu Shuzhi looks on as Guo Changcheng freezes solidly into a human stick, and thinks with some amazement that he hasn’t seen a mortal with such great potential to become a jianshi for many years.
[TN. 人棍 / human stick is actually a brutal ancient torture that’s best not described here. CSZ uses some harsh language in his head…
殭屍 / Jiangshi / what Chu Shuzhi is, is a culturally unique mythological creature that originated from the way undertakers were said to have ordered corpses to jump as they led the dead back to their hometowns for burial. Depending on the telling, they eat flesh, drink blood, sleep in coffins, fear the sun, and only in some stories do they have minds of their own.]
Chu Shuzhi moves his gaze downwards, finding Guo Changcheng’s pant cuffs shaking uncontrollably, his entire body resembling a quail that found itself falling heavily on its ass on broken glass. He congratulates himself for confiscating Guo Changcheng’s little stun baton beforehand, otherwise he’s sure the young lady’s perfectly ironed straight fringe would have been fried immediately into natural curls.
“Oh, come on. Grow up,” Chu Zhushi thinks, feeling rather disappointed on his behalf.
Fortunately, the young lady has a good temperament, and doesn’t go on Weibo on the spot to start a post titled, “Ran into someone outrageous at the xiangqin” as a souvenir. Instead she confidently attempts to keep the conversation going by cycling through a list of seemingly endless topics. From the start Guo Changcheng acts exactly like a criminal at a trial, whatever question thrown his way he must tremble thrice, all the while sending a continuous distress signal in Chu Shuzhi’s direction. Unfortunately Chu Shuzhi feigns interest in the menu and is utterly unreceptive.
Ten minutes of trembling later, the lady finally can’t help asking, “You … are you a little nervous?”
Guo Changcheng, red all over, nods at her.
The lady smiles a little. “It’s not important. We’re only having a casual chat.”
Guo Changcheng, still red all over, nods again, and carefully gives her a single glance before looking extremely ill at ease, turning his gaze away.
Normally when coming across someone that can’t even speak clearly, the other side would flip desk and leave, but this young lady who’s come to this xiangqin seem to have an odd weakness. Facing someone like Guo Changcheng, a sense of protectiveness inexplicably grows in her heart.
“I think you’re just like Raj from the Big Bang Theory,” she says happily. “Especially cute — my aunt says you’re a police officer. Really?”
Guo Changcheng makes a sound of agreement that comes off like a mosquito’s hum.
The lady says, “Really! I can’t tell at all. Then what do you do normally when you meet a bad person?”
Guo Changcheng spends a moment recalling, then truthfully illustrates just how he catches ‘bad people.’ He makes a clawing gesture, pretending to pick up his ‘secret weapon’ and says, “Just like this, and I tell, tell it, ‘you you you you you can’t come over here,’ and then I catch them.”
The lady stares at him blankly a second, and realising that it’s possibly a joke, she laughs, swaying back in forth in her mirth. “You’re just too cute!”
With naive eyes Guo Changcheng stares at her, utterly clueless.
Chu Shuzhi watches with his cheek in his hand and all the coolness of a bystander. When he thinks back on what they actually get up to during work, he does manage to find a hint of what one may call ‘adorkable.’ As he takes another look at the still happy girl and the utterly out-of-form Guo Changcheng, he glances at his watch. It’s starting to feel rather dull sitting here.
But once these two start chatting they seem to go on and on; Chu Shuzhi reins in his impatience, takes out his phone and plays games for ages until his vision’s starting to blur and he can’t take anymore. He waves at the waiter, “Ready to order.”
The waiter diligently comes over only to hear Chu Shuzhi say in a quiet and eerie voice, “One order of Kung Pao chicken, make sure the meat is only three parts done and still bloody.”
The waiter is silent.
Guo Changcheng overhears this from across the room and immediate turn around to glance at Chu Shuzhi, recognizes the gloomy corpse-like scowl on the lich (corpse) king and finally realises that he’s gotten carried away.
But while he racks his brains trying to wrap up the conversation, the other side suddenly goes from easy to stern and says to him, “Oh, right, actually I still want to say that …”
She pauses then, as if what she wants to say may be too embarrassing to mention.
Guo Changcheng asks, “What is it?”
The lady stares down at her lap and seems to think for a moment before saying, “This is our first meeting, so it’s probably not appropriate for me to be saying this, but I really do like you quite a bit …”
Guo changcheng sits as straight and stiff as a red Songhum tree — even his eyes seem to turn vertical.
She continues to say, “So there is something I want to say before anything else. I didn’t really want to come here today at first because my aunt said you were a criminal police officer. I don’t think living with a cop is especially stable, really. Everyday I’d have to be on edge all the time thinking about how you are, and as time goes on,” she trails off then, sighing. “Is this line of work something you must do?”
Guo Changcheng stares blankly for a second, and before he’s able to answer, a hand grabs onto his shoulder without any warning, hauling him right up from his seat.
Guo Changcheng says, “Chu-ge?”
It’s too sudden for the lady at her xiangqing to react, and her gaze at Chu Shuzhi shows no reaction.
Chu Shuzhi gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, before his attention shifts down towards Guo Changcheng, and he says with a tone that’s meant to cause confusion, “A Xiangqing behind my back? Why, you certainly have such gall!”
Guo Changcheng is shocked to silence.
What, what is this situation?
The lady’s eyes widen, captivated, completely in awe of the lich king’s aura and this utterly contrived plot. Chu Shuzhi reaches into Guo Changcheng’s pocket, digs out a few Renminbi bills and leaves them beneath a cup. Without another word of explanation, he stuffs Guo Changcheng beneath one arm and carries him out.
[TN. Renminbi, lit. The People’s money, the cash of the PRC.]
Guo Changcheng BSOD on scene and remains unresponsive until Chu Shuzhi stuffs him into the car. Chu Shuzhi stretches out his legs, and like an arrogant master of old, commands, “Start the car. Drop me off first.”
Guo Changcheng telegraphs ten thousand emotions tied up in knots in a single glance.
Chu Shuzhi says, “What are you glaring for, I’m doing this for her sake. To think she would dream up an idea like that, go digging at Kunlun-jun’s foundations. Really…”
[TN. 挖牆腳 - lit. dig at the foot of a wall. Applicable both in the case of someone seducing your husband or a competitor trying to lure away an employee.]
His speech halts, and a phrase comes to him unbidden like good fortune. He blurts out, "Stupid humans.
…Stupid human Guo Changcheng doesn’t say anything, and with his face still bright red, he silently starts the car.
On his satchel, a little round disc that resembles a scale invisibly transmits.
The next day, a rumour seem to spring up from everywhere at once: Chu-ge and Xiao-Guo’s gone steady, 9 University Rd is a nest for gays.
[TN. 搞大象 lit. setup-big-elephant. It came from 搞對象 lit. setup a partner. It’s just slang to replace the middle character with 大 / big, or 小 / small to indicate whether the partner is serious or casual.]
And what’s become of the person unfortunate enough to hear something he should not have, the Lin Jing who spread the rumours?
Oh, may the lord Buddha preserve us, he’s gained so many bumps on his head it’s wrapped in enough bandages to resemble a turban.
===
Much thanks to @lifeishwaiting for the final once over.
I’ve been sitting on this draft forever trying to get around the couple of derogatory terms the author used, and I did change them above, so I’ll note them here:
Raj from BBT was referred to as “The little Indian from BBT”
The last line used 印度阿三 and here’s the Baidu entry. I ended up using “turban” instead because it’s what she really meant as a description, and it’s a word used in Chinese history — think “Yellow Turban Rebellion” before the Three Kingdoms period.
#guardian#鎮魂#weilan#guochu#guardian translations#fox translates 鎮魂#fox translates zhen hun#zhen hun extra 3
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Okay, so I’ve seen Crimes of Grindelwald (spoilers)
And boy, is this movie disappointing.
Now, the first instance of Fantastic beasts was already hit-and-miss, but the plot to this movie was just freaking bizarre. And it pulled a few weird moves that even a hardcore Potterhead like myself consider out of place.
Let’s start with the positives: The movie does look amazing, and several scenes were really breath-taking, including the opening chase, and the final battle. Whether they made sense is a different thing, but they looked awesome.
I did like the ultimate reveal of Grindelwald’s plot. He wants wizards to take over muggles’ world because of a prophecy, or rather a vision of the future. Most notably, World War II.
That scene in the Lestrange’s family vault, where Grindelwald breathed the... uh, skull fumes... which in turn showed the vision of London Blitz, concentration camps and a freaking nuclear bomb was absolutely chilling. And Jacob’s reaction to it was blood-freezing, given he was a veteran of WWI already.
so, that makes Grindelwald’s “greater good” plan actually competent and multi-dimensional. He’s evil, he wants to treat muggles as a cattle and workforce, but you can see the original skewed thinking of the young Gellert there. That, i think was executed really well.
This is something I wanted to see for a long, long time. We know from Pottermore (and first movie, I think) that wizards did participate in WWI, and I wanted to see how that will be integrated into the HP universe. We only got a glimpse of it, but it was a powerful one.
Queenie’s plot was, for the most part, very interesting. She seems on plan with subduing muggles into obedience, though of course, she draws a conclusion that it’s okay, even though she is doing it on a man who already is in love with her. But that shows how twisted her perspective is.
The beasts were kinda cool! Newt has a flat in London, which, again, is bigger on the inside than outside, and he’s still pulling off Matt Smith’s performance as The Doctor. And he keeps a freaking Kelpie in a pool in basement. Which may be a library
Also he has a maid that is totally in love with him.
Zouwu, a.k.a. not manticore, a.k.a. big magical Chinese lion that could breathe fire and jump a hundred feet but when you jingle some bells he enters his big fluffy cat mode, was freaking amazing.
Jude Law as Dumbledore is phenomenal. He really encapsulates all the charm, and wisdom, as well as ability to manipulate as his older incarnations.
And now onto the bad stuff.
So, here’s the thing. FB movies seems to be in-canon only with the HP movies. I think. I honestly don’t know. And the problem with that is as follow: Harry Potter movies sucked. Even the best ones had massive cuts, the plot had to be twisted or crammed. I have always wondered how does it feel to watch HP movie without reading HP book.
Well, now I know.
Every freaking second you think that this minute-long scene in the movie would be at least three pages long in the book, and all the magical shit that is pulled off would have been explained previously in tiniest details. EXCEPT THERE IS NO BOOK NOW.
And this is a genuine problem. There is a lot of magic pulled from nowhere. Like, for example, Newt and Jacob arrive in France looking for Queenie and Tina. And then Newt takes off some gold powder thing, scatters it around and ... it just shows the past?! Like, echoes of what happened, and it shows Tina walking, meeting with a black guy, etc.
Now, we know seeing the past of *spells* is possible - Priori Incantatem can do that, but if we can just rewind the whole scene, then... why don’t Aurors do it all the time?! Where was that powder in Goblet of Fire when Ministry of Magic were investigating who conjured the Dark Mark?!
Secondly, future-seeing. In HP, it is quite heavily established that even wizards think that predicting the future is rubbish and only powerful seers can really do it.
in CoG, we see two examples: Nicholas Flamel (admittedly, a powerful wizard) uses crystal ball to see what will happen at the graveyard, and Grindelwald himself uses... the skull-thingy.
Okay, that needs explaining. So, Deppy-Depp here has the skull and it has some sort of pipe attached to it, and he smokes through it, and breathes out smog, and that smog shows the future.
I’d say you need to be high to invent this, but that is exactly what it looks like.
There is a skull-bong in Harry Potter universe now.
And again, it seems to be working 100% time correctly. So yeah, ditch the seers, use this instead. Whatever it is.
The movie shows Grindelwald and Dumbledore’s past, to an extent, and we also see some weird blood-pact-amulet thing. Again, very poorly explained. I guess it prevents them from hurting each other, hence they both use others (Dumbledore newt and Grindelwald Credence).
Also, Dumbledore is teaching Defense Against Dark Arts in Hogwarts. In the books, he was a transfiguration professor in his youth. Also, professor McGonnagal seems to be teaching in his years.
in 1927.
EIGHT YEARS BEFORE SHE WAS BORN.
OOPS.
And, honestly, she is only for a brief comedic moment. She could be substituted with a freaking Mickey Mouse, and it would have had no change on the plot whatsoever.
Ah, well, that leads us to Credence. So, there is whole subplot about him apparently being a lost Lestrange. That coincides with the fact that both Theseus and Newt are in love with Credence’s supposed sister, Leta, so now we have two people looking for him. Oh, wait, we have a third one: a new French-African dude who is supposed to be a third Lestrange. This subplot honestly kinda goes nowhere. Turns out that the third lestrange was killed by Leta by accident, and Credence is...
Dumbledore’s brother.
yeah, this makes no fucking sense.
I watched a review from a die-hard potter fan, and even she calls that move “like taken from worst fanfic”. And there is a reason for it.
See, when I finished watching FB1, I immediately joined the idea of Obscurus - a powerful, magical parasite that manifests in a particularly powerful wizard or witch, and can ultimately destroy them - with Ariana Dumbledore - Albus’ sister. This was a big, big, big deal in Deathly Hallows. So I was overjoyed when I learned that Dumbledore would be in the movie. Maybe the reason he takes interest in finding Credence was to see if there is a way to bring Ariana back, or whether she suffered in her death, or, hell, if he can help another child.
And, I guess it can still happen. But... where the bloody hell does that brother thing come from?! Now, it’s not confirmed, I think, and it is only told to credence by Grindelwald, but he also reveals that the bird Credence was taking care of is in fact, a phoenix, a bird that is tied to Dumbledore’s family.
So... is he a Dumbledore? Really? How... How does that work?
And there are a lot of weirder problems in this movie. Like, at some point, Tina and Newt go to French Ministry of Magic to pull Leta’s family tree, and it is stored in the least practical fucking room with revolving pillars or something.
Also, they go the evil mean librarian, and Tina simply says “I’m Lestrange”, and she is like “okay”.
No wand-checking?! No protective spells?! What?!
And, mind you, they are on the chase; Newt drinks polyjuice potion to look like Theseus, and it only works for maybe five minutes, as opposed to an hour, and there are posters of Newt all over French MoM. So, how the bloody hell didn’t the mean librarian notice him and raise an alarm. Or better - WHY DOESN’T SHE FUCKING STUN HIM?!
Eventually she does bring back her army of CGI multiplying cats, but that happens after Tina and Newt kinda find what they were looking for.
Edit: Oh, yeah, and one wizard can WALK THROUGH FUCKING WALLS.
Like, he has a noclip cheat turned on. WAHT.
Eh, I’m not gonna lie, this film was bad on several different levels. It had lots of good elements in it, but the bad ones do overweight them for me. And with “Cursed Child” and all of that, I really feel bummed to see one of my favourite franchises gets kinda destroyed and distorted.
I guess this is how Star Wars fan felt when the prequels came out...? Except we have three more.
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