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boldlyanxious · 4 years ago

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None the Wiser

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Bio-dad Bruce--first meeting

(Apparently telling myself I have to much going on to participate means nothing. I had an idea and it demanded to be written.)

It felt like such a simple assignment. Pretty basic genetics lesson for biology. Blood type was an easy thing to test in class. Their biology teacher had asked that they bring in the known blood types of their immediate family to help with understanding how it would work to pass on the genetic traits. Marinette had no siblings but she knew both her parents were O+.

They had finished with eye color during the last class and that was no concern for Marinette. Genetics could easily explain how the recessive blue eyes could come from the green and grey of her father and mother. But she had never known her blood type before. Just like with the eyes she should have received the recessive o from each of them making her blood type O.

She had already told her parents blood type but when she took the test it wasn't right. She told the teacher the expected answer when she was called upon for her test result and the teacher went on to explain how this was the most likely response with a 1 in 8 chance of having O- instead. Marinette didn't show anyone her test results. She was too confused. There was no way she could have gotten A blood type from her parents.

She knew there were pictures of her mother pregnant with her. Her dad was in the room when she was born and they had been married for 6 years before her mother was pregnant. She didn't want to think that her mother had cheated but there were not many other options. Her parents always seemed so in love, Marinette didn't want to ask them how it was possible.

She was quiet the rest of the week until she came up with a plan. She would simply take a DNA ancestry test and that would make everything make sense. It was probably a faulty blood type test and she was interested in the results she would get anyway. So, that weekend she got everything together and sent off for answers.

---

Tim wasn't paying much attention to the alert from his phone because he was just waiting for his coffee order. He looked down and read it. Then he read it again before he ran out of the shop without the coffee. He headed directly back to Wayne Enterprises to tell Bruce in person what he had learned.

Bruce was not happy to be pulled from his meeting by his son. He seemed to have an issue with a small French subsidiary company that did medical and genetic testing. Tim was talking too fast and he couldn't quite make sense of any of it. His head was already filled with the stock prices and percentages being discussed at the quarterly report meeting he had just left. He wasn't switching gears quickly enough for the science Tim was explaining.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tim asked frustrated "How would you even end up with another child in France?"

"Wait, what? I don't have any children in France." Bruce responded.

"The test was flagged in the system as a match for you. But that isn't all. She appears to be a match with Damian's DNA." Tim said.

"I have a daughter with Talia? I really don't think that is possible."

"It appears that way. I haven't looked into anything on her yet."

"I need to pack a bag."

"You don't think that is a little premature? She could have been trained to kill you."

"We will still do background on her. But if I have another child, I want to meet her."

---

Marinette was frantically gathering things she needed while holding her phone to her ear, talking to Nino. She grabbed her bag, a hanging garment bag and a stack of bakery boxes. She looked over and glared at her bag with the decorations before setting down the boxes and reaching for the straps of the bag.

"Argh, this isn't working right. I need more hands."

"You are trying to carry too much. I knew you would do that. It's why I planned ahead and got you a ride." Nino's voice came through the receiver after he finished laughing at her.

"The hotel is not far away. Who would give me a ride?"

"My buddy Adrien. He should be arriving any minute."

Marinette looked up as the bells on the door chimed. Adrien walked in followed by 2 men in business suits that Marinette couldn't help but admire. She jumped at him with a fierce hug, forgetting all about her phone call. Her phone flew off her shoulder right at the older of the 2 businessmen. His blue eyes danced with amusement at her shocked expression as he caught it easily.

"Oh wow. Thank you so much. I'm sorry for throwing it at you. That was so cool." Her excited voice stilled as she realized she was still against Adrien, having frozen in their hug. She pushed away and reached for her phone.

"Thank you again." She turned back to Adrien. "And thank you for the ride. I have so many things to carry."

Nino's voice came through the phone, "what is happening?"

"Oh, sorry Nino. I kinda threw you away when I saw Adrien."

"Don't I mean anything to you? What about our love?"

"I couldn't help myself. When I saw him with the sun shining in his gorgeous golden locks it was all I could think about."

Adrien raised his eye brow at her but she waved him off with her hand and gave a conspiratorial wink.

"You've gutted me." Nino said.

"I'll set you up with my best girl. She is 16 and I know you have a thing for older women."

"Well I can't have you, baby. I guess I'll meet her."

"Ugh. Too far Nino. Don't ever call me baby again. Even as a joke."

"But you are baby."

I'm hanging up now."

"Don't forget your shoes."

"My shoes!" Marinette ran off, shoving her garment bag and her phone into Adrien's hands, she rushed back to her living room to get her shoes to go with her party dress.

---

Bruce and Tim hadn't been sure that they would see the girl when visiting the patisserie owned by her parents. But when they entered the establishment they quickly recognised the girl buzzing around as the same one they had researched after learning she shared Bruce's DNA. When he met her eyes, in the moment he handed her phone back to her, there was no mistaking that she got his eyes.

They took just enough time deciding what to try so they were able to see her as she went in and out several times collecting all she needed from what they gathered was her best friend's birthday party. She kissed her parents on the cheek and promised to see them tomorrow before she zipped back out the door the last time.

As the men walked back to their hotel they talked about how they should proceed. None in the family seemed to recognize them and they weren't sure how she came to be with them even though she was Bruce and Talia's biological child. When they arrived back at their hotel they were surprised to see the same girl unloading all the things she had packed and giving direction to the others gathered with a confidence she hadn't seemed to possess before.

All those working for her were occupied setting up decorations, sounds equipment, or tables for gifts and treats as she guided the bodyguard of her friend from the bakery in how to carry the massive cake and where to place it. When he finished and was heading out she offered him a small package from the bakery when she thanked him for all his help. Then she was off setting up for her friend's arrival.

It was odd for Bruce to realize he was feeling proud watching her. Then he had to pull himself back when he realized he was watching her. Actually it was Tim who pulled him away so he wouldn't be noticed watching a teenage girl he had never really met. They headed back to the rooms they rented. They both entered Tim's room where his computer was still working on finding information on the couple and their daughter.

---

Marinette was feeling very antsy. She had set up the perfect surprise party with Marlene Cesaire for Alya's 16th birthday. Mostly successful because it wasn't a surprise. Alya was dropping off the twins with her mother at the end of Marlene's shift in the hotel kitchen before she headed to Marinette's house for a small party in the bakery and a sleepover.

Alya had no idea how big her party was going to be. Since the hotel wasn't full and the ballroom hadn't been booked, the mayor allowed his chef to book two rooms and the ballroom and just pay for the staff to clean it rather than the typical rate. He was even allowing the teenagers to stay unaccompanied so long as they didn't destroy the room or disturb other guests (too much).

Marinette had made her a special dress with a matching hero mask and told everyone to dress as a hero or wear a mask. Kitty Section would be playing for a bit and they had a bunch of party games and songs to dance or sing to so Alya could choose the activities. Most of the people coming would be staying in one of the 2 connected hotel rooms so that party could go really late.

She got Nathanael and Marc to sit nearby and watch to warn her when Alya was close. They weren't super close to Alya so it wouldn't raise suspicion if she saw them, she would probably just stop to greet them but let them keep working. That would give them the perfect opportunity to call ahead to make sure everything was ready for her arrival.

Marinette was already regretting inviting Lila. She was not only actively not helping but she was getting in the way of everyone who was helping. She had to explain how it would have been better if the tables had been moved or if the color scheme was different. She thought hotel parties were tacky and the way her last party was was so much better because she only included her closest celebrity friends. But also the party was actually her idea and she was letting Marinette help out and take the credit so she wouldn't feel left out.

---

"I think I found something." Tim said.

Bruce walked over to look at the screen. Tim showed him Sabine's medical records from 16-18 years ago. She and Tom had been seen by a fertility specialist originally almost 18 years ago. A series of appointments after that escalated to several visits at a facility that specialized in in vitro fertilization. As far as they could tell the couple had set it up to have a genetic child but with assistance but the company had logged 2 security issues during the same month they visited. The company kept it quiet because they could find nothing out of place after the breech. One new employee worked there during that time for only 2 months: Nyssa Raatko.

"I don't know what to do'" Bruce paused. "Tell them. I definitely need to tell them."

Bruce has mostly been talking to himself while Tim was in the other room distracted. Tim heard the door latch closed after Bruce left and he had to think about what he had heard while he wasn't paying attention in order to put together why Bruce had left.

"Oh, that is a terrible idea," he said. He worked on getting his key, wallet and phone into his pockets while he slipped his shoes back on. He followed after Bruce planning to catch up with him. He walked a block in the wrong direction before he realized his mistake and back tracked to get back to the patisserie.

---

"Okay, I got the call. Alya will be here in about 1 minute. Places everyone." Marinette called out.

Everyone waited and suddenly the ballroom doors burst open. Etta and Ella had been very excited to be told it was their one chance to run away from Alya and into the ballroom. They usually were scolded for going in there. It was of limits because it might be used for an event and no one wanted them to mess things up.

Alya chased them into the room and shrieked when everyone jumped out and yelled:

"Surprise!"

"Oh, this looks awesome. How did you do all this? There is no way we can afford this." Alya said.

"Honestly, Marinette did most of it." Marlene said. "She cleared it with me and Mayor Bourgeois. I think she had a back up plan but the ballroom and the 2 guest rooms are yours because they didn't sell. He let me just pay the cost for the hotel so long as nothing is destroyed and you don't run off guests."

"Girl, this is amazing!"

"I brought you a dress to wear. I told everyone it was hero classy so there is a mask to match."

Alya pulled her into a hug and then dragged her off to change into the new dress.

---

"Welcome back. We are closed but we will still offer anything we still have available." Tom said.

"I enjoyed what I had here, but that isn't why I came. I need to talk to you about your daughter." Bruce said.

"Marinette? What happened? Is she okay?" Sabine's mind went to all the things that could have gone wrong in the last hour as she looked around for her phone.

"Nothing has happened to her, but she recently sent off for DNA and ancestry results to a company I own."

"We don't know anything about that. Was she supposed to get a parent signature because of her age?" Sabine asked.

"No. It was flagged because her DNA is a match to mine. Also a full match to my biological son. She shares the same mother as him."

The room was silent for several beats before both of them denied that what he said could be possible. He let them continue for a moment before sharing what he had learned. He explained that his genetic material had been stolen by Damian's mother and from there he believed it had been stolen by her sister for an unknown purpose. He told them he found a record of her working at the fertility clinic they had used and the company had noted a couple security breeches during that time. He continued by suggesting she had probably chosen them based on a similar ethnic makeup to himself and the mother.

They listened with increasing agitation. The man before then appeared to be very well off and he mentioned that he owned the company as more of an afterthought. They suspected he had quite a bit more money than them and he said he had custody of the other child he mentioned. They shared a look and thought they might be having the same thought that this man intended to take their child away from them. They weren't sure who legally had the right to a child in such cases. But they had heard of custody issues with couples who needed to use donors during in vitro fertilization. They had been relieved that they were able to get pregnant without using a donor. They all turned as the door opened and Marinette burst in obviously angry.

"Hold me back from that little Italian witch. I am going to rip her weird pseudo pig tails off her head and thrash her with them. Then I'll cram them down her throat so she can never lie again."

All eyes turned to Marinette as she came into the room. Based on her appearance she was probably heading up to her bedroom to change her dress. The bodice of her dress was smeared with icing after Lila 'accidentally' tripped into Marinette. Marinette then accidentally dropped her so she fell but that didn't save her dress.

Marinette looked at her parents as she felt the tension in the room. Her parents had moved to place themselves between her and the stranger in their living room. Marinette looked around but no one spoke. She didn't know how to read the unusual look on the man's face but her parents looked like something between scared and angry.

"Is something wrong?" Marinette asked.

"I was just heading out," the man said. He reached a hand out, smiling. "I'm Bruce."

"Marinette," she responded while shaking his hand. She looked back at her parents and now she couldn't tell what their expressions meant as Bruce walked out.

#maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #biodad au #boldlyanxious

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bigbadredpanda · 4 years ago

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Hi Panda, would you happen to know what the Chinese fandom consensus on Madam Lan's backstory is? The consensus in English fandom seems to be that she was a victim of the Lan sect & abused by Qinheng-jun, but before I saw that I thought her and Qinheng-jun and the Lan sect had a misunderstanding, like wangxian in the cave vs the Lan elders after Nightless City, that sort of thing? The difference is so huge I need like an extra 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 50th opinion haha

Hi there! Mmn yes, it’s an interesting question, that part of the story is left ambiguous and led to a lot of speculation. I don’t think there’s really a consensus whether on the Chinese side or the international side. However, I’m not sure we can qualify what happened with Madam Lan and Wei Wuxian a misunderstanding. In my opinion, it’s more a difference of morality. What they did was justified from their perspective while in the eyes of others they have committed a grave crime.

Let’s look at the facts or at least what we assume to be facts.

Qingheng-Jun was a well-known and well-respected young man with a promising future ahead of him but he threw that away when he suddenly decided to marry and live in seclusion at a young age (弱冠之龄 according to the novel, the age when one receives during a coming of age ceremony the crown-like ornament men wore in their hair. It was historically 20 years old but MXTX lowered it to 15 in her setting to have the characters using courtesy names. I’m assuming that Qingheng-Jun is still meant to be 20. Anyway, brief digression). On his way home from a night hunt, he supposedly fell in love at first sight with a woman. However, that woman did not return his affect and killed his master. It’s unclear if that happened after their meeting or before. To protect her from reprisal from his Sect, Qingheng-Jun brought her to the Cloud Recesses in secret and performed with her the three bows that bound them together in marriage. Then, as an act of penance, he went in seclusion and locked away his wife in a separate cottage. That union eventually led to the birth of two sons. (Ch.64)

Of course, the big question is why did she kill Qingheng-Jun’s master? I use master because the term used here is 恩师, an honorific for an esteemed teacher towards whom the student feels grateful for his tutelage. The answer to that question is given by Lan Xichen:

“我不知，但想来无非‘恩怨是非’四个字罢了。”

“I do no know but it is assumed that it came down to a ‘dispute over a past grievance’.

This is fascinating as it explains everything and nothing. 是非 is literally ‘right and wrong’, the two characters together can mean ‘quarrel’. 恩怨 is also made up of the juxtaposition of two characters with opposite meanings, ‘gratitude and grudges’ (the same character 恩 is used in the teacher honorific above). It’s a concept rooted in Chinese culture that features particularly prominently in wuxia/xianxia genres where the notions of justice and honour are core precepts. This term designates old scores that need settling, a debt that has to to be repaid sometimes tenfold. To put it simply, when someone does you or your family a favour, you have a debt of gratitude toward them. When someone wrongs you or your family, you develop a grudge towards them out of deep-seated enmity.

Wei Wuxian is the prime example of this, he went to great lengths to return the kindness he was shown by the Yunmeng Jiang Sect and by the Wen siblings. To him, it’s a moral imperative, he was duty-bound to do so just like he was duty-bound to take revenge against the Qishan Wen Sect.

It’s this same concept that motivates other characters in the story. For instance, Wen Zhuliu’s steadfast loyalty stems from a debt of gratitude (知遇之恩), Wen Ruohan recognised his worth and accepted him within the Wen Clan (hence why he changed his name to Wen) and he cannot leave that debt unpaid (Ch.62). Xue Yang repays the grudge he held against Chang Cian tenfold by exterminating the entire Yueyang Chang Sect (Ch.30).

Coming back to Madam Lan. I’ve seen some speculation from Chinese fans about the origin of that ‘grievance’ between her and Qingheng-Jun’s master. Because of the age gap between them, it is surmised that this is something that happened one generation back. Perhaps he brought harm or even killed Madam Lan’s elder, parent or teacher. It was a duty for Qingheng-Jun to bring her to justice and see about that her crime did not go unpunished. Depending on the gravity of the situation, he might have been well within his rights to kill her himself in retaliation. Instead of pursuing that cycle of revenge, he took another path that protected the woman he loved but also punished the one who had killed his master. Because he went against the Gusu Lan Sect by marrying her in secret, his penitence is to live in seclusion, separate from her and from the affairs of his Sect.

In the Chinese fandom, it is assumed that Madam Lan must have been a woman with impressive skills if she managed to kill a Gusu Lan Sect elder. Did she resist capture from Qingheng-Jun and was forcibly taken to the Cloud Recesses? Did she resign herself to her fate and accepted being confined as punishment? Did she comply and eventually grew fond of the man who became her husband? We don’t know but Lan Xichen remembers his mother as a gentle person who never voiced a complaint about her own situation.

The exact circumstances are shrouded with mystery but most meta and fics I’ve read in the Chinese fandom tend to be of the opinion that love eventually developed between Qingheng-Jun and Madam Lan. But of course, that’s the way we would rather have. What is sure is that this was a tragic ending for all parties involved, including the children left behind.

I’ve also learnt something very very interesting from the meta I’ve read concerning the gentians growing near Madam Lan’s cottage. We know that MXTX has paid special attention to flower meanings with the peony that Wei Wuxian threw to Lan Wangji in Yiling (Ch.71). The flower's alternative name is 将离花, flower of impending separation or flower for saying goodbye soon, a peony can be a parting gift between lovers or would-be lovers forced apart and can have the undertones of "Will you be with me before we part?", "Will you wait for me?" In the audio drama, it’s made clear that Wei Wuxian knew the intended meaning before offering Lan Wangji the flower. Well, due to their bitter roots, in the Chinese flower language, gentians stand for 爱上忧伤的你. Which is. Wheeze. “You’re beautiful in your melancholy.”

In the end, Qingheng-Jun and Madam Lan‘s story is used in the novel to act as a foil to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s relationship. In the past, Lan Wangji also wished to bring Wei Wuxian to the Cloud Recesses and hide him away there. But he couldn’t bring himself to because Wei Wuxian was ‘not willing’ (Ch.72). Interestingly, this story is also framed to contrast with Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao who are sworn brothers. Remember that it’s Lan Xichen himself that recounts his parents’ story to Wei Wuxian after they have found evidence of Jin Guangyao’s treachery. Just like his father before him, he is torn between personal feelings and his duty to his sect, two conflicting allegiances. When he is asking Wei Wuxian’s opinion of whether his father did was right, what would have been the right thing to do, he is also looking for an answer for himself. Lan Wangji had made his own choice at the aftermath of the Nightless City massacre. He protected Wei Wuxian and brought him back to Burial Mounds, he took responsibility for injuring his Sect’s elders by returning to the Cloud Recesses and accepting being flayed by the discipline whip. He managed to reconcile personal devotion and his family/Sect duties with his own principles and harbours no regret.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs meta #answers #kumipen

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alia-turin · 3 years ago

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It has really been forever, but work kind of kicked my ass the last few weeks and writing has ben really really hard. In any case I am determined to finish that (just one chapter left, yey) and I also have bunch of hot requests to work on.

Fic Title: Somewhere in Time: Chapter 9 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 Rating: Explicit [NSFW around the end] Fandom: The Witcher Relationship: Caranthir Ar-Feiniel/Original Female Character(s) AO3 Link

“Caranthir?” Aine looked at him confused and afraid, he pulled the blanket over her knowing they won’t be alone soon. Of all the possible days and times now would be the one, of course. He knew Avallac’h probably had no idea Carabthir was not alone, but that did not make the situation less annoying and frustrating. He was not a child anymore.

As soon as Avallac’h stepped through the portal, Caranthir got off the bed and started walking to his dresser, ignoring the man. The clothes he was wearing were downstairs in his study and he was not going to talk to his teacher naked. Avallac’h moved his eyes between him and Aine, she had the blankets pulled almost to her eyes level. Caranthir could feel the anger building in him. Of course his mentor will come now, if there was one thing Avallac’h had ever achieved regarding Caranthir was to ruin the few good moments he ever had in life.

“Get out of the room.” he said as his teacher was shifting his gaze between Aine and him. “The door is there, Avallac’h.” Caranthir pointed angrily as the older elf just smiled politely, acting as if just teleporting in someone's bedroom was the most normal thing in the world. His teacher walked out of the room, Caranthir followed, considering pushing him down the stairs.

“Why are you here?” Caranthir asked as they walked in his lab, Avallach had already lit the place. “Actually, I don’t care, leave.” He was having a good moment, for the first time in his life he was actually enjoying the closeness to another living thing, going through emotions he thought for a very long time unable to experience, and it was all cut short.

“I need to ask you something.” Avallac’h pretended as if that whole thing was absolutely normal. It wasn’t, it had never been normal.

“Make an appointment.” all the serenity was gone and he was pure rage right now, he couldn’t believe something so simple bothered him so much and was able to destroy all the tranquility he felt just a moment ago. He couldn’t show his feelings to Avallac’h, he would not give him the satisfaction. He did his best to look calm, but the winter storm outside the Tower started howling. “Leave.” Caranthir snarled.

“I understand that your absolute inability to build meaningful intimate relationships probably makes you very uncomfortable being seen in bed with someone, but I really need to speak to you.” he was talking to him, but Avallac’h’s eyes were not on him. Caranthir turned and saw Aine standing on the stairs wearing one of his shirts. He turned back to his teacher, Crevan’s eyes narrowed as if trying to determine how serious this thing was. No...he was thinking if he could use her to get to him. He was staring at her in the way Caranthir would stare at a horse he found interesting. He didn’t feel jealous because of his teacher’s gaze, he was concerned.

“Aine, go upstairs.” she hesitated and he raised his voice. “Now!” This time she did it, her light steps echoing as she climbed up the cold stairs.

“Free advice, from personal experience, snapping, especially when there is no need to do so, will result in unfortunate consequences.” Avallac’h forced a smile and Caranthir’s anger only grew. That patronizing, always knowing better than him...

“Despite my inability to build meaningful intimate relationships, do I look stupid enough to follow the advice of the man known for driving the one woman he loved away.” Caranthir chuckled, he had learned from the best. If Avallac’h wanted a fight, he was going to give him one and Eredin was not here to stop them.

“Lara might have left me, but at least she knew who I was.” Crevan pointed toward the stairs even if there was no one there anymore. “Tell me Caranthir, how long before your arrogance and impulses drive her away? How about everything in you that Eredin has corrupted? How long before your true colors show and she walks away for real this time. What will you do then? Let her go?” Avallac’h made a fake laugh. “I saw the marks on her skin, you will not allow your possession to just walk away. I would know.”

Silence fell between the two of them. Deep down Caranthir knew they were just two elves trying to hurt each other without doing it physically. They knew each other far too well, despite how much Avallac’h had tried to hide his pain through the years, Caranthi had seen it. Avallac’h was wrong however, she was not a possession, or maybe he had sensed that was using the words to push him further?

“I need to know where Eredin keeps the girl.” Avallac’h finally said, his voice soft, no trace of the frustrated tone they both used.

“What girl?” It has been days since he has been in Tir na Lia, he had no idea what Eredin or anyone was up to.

“Cirilla.”

“I don’t really keep track of where Eredin stores his toys.” Caranthir smiled. “Now, the door is downstairs, or use a portal, I don’t care.” The storm outside calmed, but so high in the tower, the wind was still whistling against the stone.

“Caranthir, I know you messed with the potion for Auberon.” Avallac’h added without hesitation. “I also know Eredin asked you to.” pause, he did not respond, just looked at his teacher. “I also know you have cast a spell to prevent me from finding Cirilla, I would have located her by now otherwise.”

“Maybe you should try harder.” Caranthir didn’t speak in anger, but he knew the words would hit home. That was what Avallac’h would tell him every single time he was unable to cast a spell or do something that was expected of him.

“You need to look beyond your selfishness.” Avallac’h added. “You have responsibilities.”

“I do.” Caranthir smiled. “To my king.”

“He is not the true king.” Avallac’h did not raise his voice, but the anger there was obvious. “I need to find the girl, she is a key to something more important than whatever Eredin wants to use her for. He will ruin everything…”

“Everything what?” Caranthir laughed. “All your life you have believed that there is a great purpose for you Crevan. Be with Lara, be the power behind the throne, father the child to save us all. Look at you. Ended up with Lara death, me as a replacement for your child and now even the throne is not yours. You are not as special as you think you are, Crevan. You think everyone to be more stupid than you are, but Eredin knows exactly what is at stake here. As do I. We are all aware and don't need you to remind us.”

“But I'm the only one who knows how to help.” There was malice in Avallac’h’s smile now, an emotion he had not seen on the other man’s lips before. “You think you are stronger than me? You can do a lot, but we still need Ciri and your ability might be enough to keep Eredin happy, but they are not enough to save us. All of us.'' A pause followed, Caranthir was ready for an attack, but one did not follow. “Tell me, how good of a mage is she?” Avallac’h pointed up the stairs. “If I am to...collapse the roof of this ugly tower, how long do you think she will last? A minute? A second?”

“Your issue is with me not with her.” Caranthir spoke through his teeth. “Besides, it doesn matter how good she is. I can protect her.” Avallac’h was bluffing. He would not do that...wouldn’t he? The man was pragmatic, logical, in his mind the life of all of the Aen Elle was more valuable than whatever might happen here, Caranthir understood that very well.

“Protect her? Like that other one? The one that the human mages killed? Did you tell her you will protect her too? Or there was no time for that.” The tower shook and Caranthir had just a second to stop his teacher's spell, before he found himself flying across the room and hitting the wall.

“The same way you promised Lara to protect her.” he got up, clearing blood from his mouth. “How did that work for you?.” he cast a spell, Avallac'h saw it and avoided the ice falling from the ceiling, but Caranthir knew that would happen, he moved the table behind Crevan and hit the small of his back forcing him on his hands and knees. They were even now.

They looked at each other, the anger in Avallac’h’s eyes softened, there was still displeasure, but the malice was gone.

Avallac'h stood unsure why he even did that. Why was he going so far? He did not come here to threaten Caranthir or that poor girl that had nothing to do with their past. He was happy Caranthir found someone, the kid deserved to feel something other than anger.

All he needed was Ciri's location, Caranthir must know something, otherwise he would be able to sense her. The logical explanation was he had cast a spell, he could walk for days through the palace, assuming she was in the palace and look for the spell, but he did not have days.

“I should have been kinder to you.” Avallac'h changed his approach. This was how he should have started. Tell him how he really felt, apologize, especially knowing that after today they would certainly be enemies and one of them would end up dead. Hopefully not, but it was a possibility. “I should have taught you how to love.” A pause followed and the navigator did not speak either. "I am not threatening anymore and I will not hurt her or you, unless you provoke me. Where is Ciri?" the young man laughed at his words.

“You should either continue with murder attempt or leave.” Caranthir finally said calmly

“I wish you could look beyond your own hatred.” Avallac’h sighed. “Lara taught me things I didn’t know. About myself. I think you have learned something about yourself tonight as well, my boy.”

Avallac'h couldn't believe how much alike the two of them were. Not in everything, and he was to blame for all of their similarities and differences. Ironically, he was not his biological father, but judging by their characters he might as well be.

“Avallac’h, it's too late to be my father.” Caranthir finally said as if reading his mind. It was a mix between regret and pain. "I will not tell you where she is. I will not betray Eredin."

Avallac'h nodded. That one was on him. He could have been smarter but his emotions took the best of him. He opened a portal and walked away. He was going to find her himself.

Caranthir stood there not sure what happened or why. He just stared at one point on the wall, his mind numb.

"Caranthir?" Aine's voice came from the stairs, he turned his head just to see her standing back at the stairs. The look on her eyes made him snap. She was scared and she was worried. For herself or for him? "Are you okay?" She asked and he stood there...for him? That was the first time…

"I'm okay. Let's go to bed." he walked to her and wrapped his around her shoulders.

Carathir woke up sensing his spell broken. Avallac’h finally found her. He knew it was just a matter of time after their conversation yesterday he just hoped it was in more time than that. Going back to Ti na Lia wasn’t something he wanted to do right now. Aine was still asleep, her small back pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms a bit tighter around her, he had never woken up next to someone in his life, nor had he ever had the desire to do so until now. He couldn’t believe how his entire life he had missed that. Sure, until now he had the need to be someone for more than a night only once before, but the whole feeling of having someone in his arms...he buried his face closer to her, inhaling the smell of wild flowers and pine from her hair. Caranthir wished he didn’t need to go to Tir na Lia now, he could spend the day here in bed just...holding her. That was new as well.

He felt her shift a bit and he released his grip not wanting to be clingy. Funny, he managed to sleep the whole night without moving at all, that was a first as well. She rolled over looking at him with sleepy eyes. Caranthir just stared. Even half awake she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He felt bad for waking her, probably it was his tight embrace, but he could just not control himself, he needed to feel her so badly against his skin.

“Good morning.” she said as her eyes were pinned on his, he couldn’t stop admiring all the color on her. The red hair, such a contrast to the paleness of his, the vividness of her eyes, compared to the dullness of his...

“Last night...I promise that won’t happen again.” she looked at him puzzled, again he realized what he said was stupid and he should use more than three words to describe things. “I don’t mean...I mean with Avallac’h and the tower. Not what happened before that.” what happened before that he hoped would happen again. More than once. “He was out of line.”

“He is your teacher, right?” she asked as she pulled herself closer to him. Caranthir just nodded. Avallac’h was more than a teacher to him and less at the same time, but now that was not his problem. He had to tell her that he needed to leave despite not knowing for sure yet. Truth was he had no idea what was going on in Tir na Lia, he knew someone broke his spell, probably Avallac’h no one else had the power to do so, not now. Maybe Eredin captured him...he had to go.

“He was my teacher.” he finally answered, realizing that silence lasted too long. “He is something else right now.” he had to tell her, but how to do that without making it sound as if he was abandoning her. Last night she told him this was what she was afraid of, being used and then left. “Tell…” he stopped and her eyebrows raised in curiosity. Did he really want to know? “Tell me about that man. The one you said...left you.”

Aine stared at his pale eyes not sure she understood the question. She understood the words, that was not the problem, but why was he asking about that all of a sudden? Then again, she had seen probably some of the most intimate moments of his life, it was just fair.

“Well...not much to say...he was someone close to my half brother, but wanted to be closer, get more power.” That happened years ago and it still hurt her in a way. It had been a valuable lesson to learn her place. Not that much because of what he did, but because it was such a good reminder for her she had no place, neither with humans nor with elves. “He thought my father valued me more than he actually did, and he was not entirely wrong, he encountered him at a time when he was somewhat affectionate to me. We spent months together, I was happy because I felt like finally I had found my place. Finally I wasn’t neither here nor there, I was a part of something, accepted by someone...a few months passed he finally understood that my father used me to show off to elves who were sympathetic to humans, parade how generous he was to me, and ignored me the rest of the time. He tried, he asked my father if being with me makes him part of the family, my father ignored him and there was that.”

“Did you ever…” Caranthir started and then stopped half way. It was curious how hard these questions were for him, but he was the one asking, she did not share that on her own. Aine could feel his body being tense around her, his embrace a bit stronger. “Did you ever have that with him?”

“That?” she had to try to suppress a laugh. “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘that’.”

Caranthir felt the air just stopping in his lungs. He knew jealousy as a feeling, but that was the first time he felt it in a romantic way. He wasn’t even sure why, whoever the elf was, that was in the past, he didn’t even know his name, and that was probably for the best as otherwise he would find him and kill him. Not for what he had done to her, but because they had something, no matter how fake it might have been. No, the real jealously came from the fact that he probably held her in his arms, the way he was holding her now, but he had not done that with anyone else.

“Held you in his arms?” he finally asked, knowing the answer.

“Caranthir, why are you asking?” she pushed herself away from him a bit, placing a hand on his chest and looking at him concerned. “Does it really matter what happened years ago, with someone who does not matter anymore?”

Why was he asking? She was right, it didn’t matter.

“We need to go back to Tir na Lia.” he finally said. He just didn’t want to sound like he was leaving her, but he was leaving her, even if it was not in the same way. “And I will have to leave with the king on a hunt most likely.” he saw the confusion and pain on her face. He reached quickly for her cheek and cupped it with his hand. “I did not plan for that to happen.”

“Can I stay here?” she finally asked, the concern in her eyes not disappearing but he could feel her body being less tense.

“No.” he laughed. “I might be gone for a day, but I might be gone for months. You can’t open a portal on your own, not even to move yourself downstairs. There is no way out of here but through a portal.” he kissed her forehead. “In Tir na Lia, you will have all of my servants, everything you’d ever need.”

“Caranthir, no…” she grabbed his hand from her face and held it in hers. “My place is not there, I’m neither human nor elf, I have no place in the palace. Not as an elf…”

He placed his finger on her lips making her silent.

“You have a place. Here and in Tir na Lia.” he opened a portal under the two of them and suddenly they moved to his rooms in Tir na Lia. They fell on his bed, the warm blankets from the Winter tower with them. “This is your place.”

Before she could protest again there was a knock on the door and one of his servants walked in, an elderly man who usually looked after everything.

“My lord, I was not aware you will be coming back.” the man bowed as he spoke, he looked at Aine for a second and then his eyes were on Caranthir again.

Aine pulled the covers closer to her chin as Caranthir got off the bed, the servant still standing there. That dynamic was not unfamiliar to her, the man was most likely trained all his life to do exactly what he was doing right now and Caranthir had grown up knowing humans were nothing but servants. She was the odd one in the situation. He got off the bed and walked around it, the servant's head bowed down but he followed his master’s movement as he went to the window on the other side of the bed. Aine used the chance to study the room, it was at least twice as big as the bedroom in the Winter Tower, the bed was softer, there was a small table with chairs, dresser next to the wall and vanity, but the mirror was covered with a sheet. That was curious, she realized just now that there was not a single mirror in the Winter Tower.

“I will be leaving Tir na Lia for a hunt.” Caranthir turned toward his servant. “In my absence, her word is my word.” The man did not answer to him, just gave her a quick look, almost as if trying to understand. Aine did not blame him. His life was easily defined. Humans served elves and there was that. She was neither. She wasn’t his mistress, nor wanted to be, but she was not his equal either. “Make sure you find her some clothes. We left everything at the Winter Tower.”

“Yes, my lord.” The man bowed and shot another look at her, filled with confusion as if he was trying to make sure he really understood his master’s commands. He nodded and walked out.

“You don’t need to do that.” she said as the man walked away. “I don’t need servants.”

Caranthir walked toward the bed and sat at the edge, the morning light from the window reflecting in the white lines of the scars on his body.

“You said you don’t have a place.” he ran his fingers through her face. “I’m giving you one. But you will not have a place, among the Aen Elle, or among the humans, unless you decide if you want to be Aen Elle or human. It’s yours.” he made a gesture with his other hand pointing at the vast room. “There is a study next door and all the books you need on magic...hopefully I will be back soon.”

He looked at her face trying to remember all the lines, how her red hair contrasted with her skin, the mismatching eyes, the curve on her nose, the fine on her cheekbones...he hoped that would take no more than a day but he knew Avallac’h he was clever and he had already seen the rest of the Red Riders preparing in the yard. It was a matter of time before Eredin came looking.

“Why are you doing that?” she finally asked him and he was taken aback. What sort of question was that? “You don’t need to.” she added. “You can leave me in the rooms where you kept me imprisoned, they are perfectly adequate, but you are giving me your rooms. Why?”

Caranthir could not answer these questions. He could, but not actually voice it. She made him feel good, she made him forget how bad he felt about himself, she made him feel wanted for something else than being Eredin’s Navigator. He also liked holding her in his arms, just having another being that accepted him for who and what he was. Someone who in a way was as lonely as he was, someone just as him, could never find their place, because he was not a warrior like Eredin and Imlerith, but he was also different from Avallac’h. Or at least wanted to be.

“Come.” he took her hand in his and walked with her to the window where he was standing just a moment ago. She hesitated for a moment to step closer, she had nothing covering her body. “It’s okay the rooms are high enough, even if someone looks they can’t see you.” He pushed her closer to the glass and wanted her to see what he was looking at just a moment ago. Eredin and the rest of the Red Riders rushing around the yard, preparing to leave. He had not spoken with him, but he already knew what was going on. “I’m doing that, because you are doing something for me.” he kissed her neck where he could still see the marks he left on her last night. “Something to me.” He placed his hands over her belly and slid them up to her breasts, but she stopped him.

“A payment?” there was hurt in her words and Caranthir stepped back, she was not turning but she could see his reflection in the window.

“No.” he wished he was able to express what was going on in his head. The fact that he did not want to leave, not now that he actually felt good for the first time in many years. “Gratitude. Appreciation.” yes, that sounded closer to what he was feeling, probably not an accurate description but as close as he could allow himself to admit aloud. He wrapped his hands around her again, but this time sank his teeth in her skin, pulling her closer to himself trying to remember how her skin feels against his. One hand sliding between her legs, the other reaching for her breasts but she stopped him again.

“Not like that.” she turned around and faced him, placing a hand on his chest just over his heart. “Gentle.”

“I’m not sure I know how.” it wasn’t a lie. Last night was the nicest he had ever been to someone in bed and he still wasn’t sure that qualified as gentle.

“I can help you.” she stepped on her tip toes and kissed his lips. Caranthir didn’t even need to think about it, his whole body was just responding to her.

“I don’t have a lot of time.” It was partially an excuse to hide his lack of experience in being kind, but also truth. It was a matter of minutes before Eredin asked for him. He wanted to treat her differently than everyone else and he was far less ashamed of himself around her, he wouldn’t be standing naked in front of her now if that was not the case, but he had no idea where to start from.

“You don’t need a lot of time.” she kissed him again, this time he was trying to memorize the sweetness of her taste.

Aine wasn’t even sure where all that courage came in her, she knew she wanted him, just this time she wanted to look at his face, all the time. As much as she liked last night, that was different. He said he could be away for months, so she wanted to remember him.

“I will try.” he groaned as he reached down and lifted her, placing her on the window sill but still supporting most of her body. He moved one hand between her legs running a finger through her entrance feeling that she was already wet. Redness crawled trough her neck and cheeks having herself for a second day spread like that for him.

“Slowly.” she moaned as his finger was replaced by the tip of his cock. He listened, he pushed slowly in her, his hand grabbing her chin and made her look at him as he was slowly pushing in her. He was careful and gentle, trying to be. The hand that was supporting her was still digging in her skin, probably leaving bruises and she could see the lust in his eyes.

As he pushed all the way in he leaned forward and kissed her, moving the hand that was holding her chin to where they were connected, his thumb easily reaching for her clit.

“I don’t have time.” he whispered in her ear as he picked up the pace. She kissed his chest trying to silence her moans. Despite his faster and harsher pace he was trying to be kind, his lips were on her neck, but this time kissing not biting. She wrapped her legs around his urging him to go faster even if he did not really need the invitation. He moved his lips to hers just before she came around him, as his own moves became more frantic and needy. Couple of thrusts later and he came slamming his hand at the window behind her to find support.

Neither of them moved for a second, she couldn’t until he did, and he was just leaning over her looking at her unfocused and trying to catch his breath.

He didn’t step away from her but grabbed her and threw her on the bed, her back hitting the softness of the mattress.

“How was that for ‘nice’?” He did not follow her in bed, but watched her naked shape over the covers.

“We need to practice.” she teased him, as she was trying to memorize every inch of his body.

“When I am back.” he leaned forward and kissed her. For a second she thought he would follow her in bed, but he stopped over her. He pulled one of the rings from his hand and handed it to her, it was different from the one he used to teach her. This one was just a band with runes marked on it. “Keep that with yourself. If something happens, I can find it.”

“If something happens?” she could sense concern in his voice. Happens to her or to him? “No more tracking spells?” she teased, not wanting to even imagine what ‘something happens’ could mean. Not now.

“No tracking spells.” he touched her lips with his thumb. “If you are to walk away now, and leave the ring here, I won’t be able to find you.”

She wanted to tell him that she wouldn't leave, not unless he asked her to, but a knock on the door prevented that.

“My lord.” it was his servant. “The king is asking for you.”

#my writing

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yourgalaxy · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Taehyung x female O/C

Genre: Fluffyest Fluffy Fluff, a little bit of angst if you squint really hard.

Summary: After getting used to the idea of just being her and her little daughter against the world. Autumn is proven wrong once again when fate has different plans for them.

Warnings: None

A/N: The original prompt is from @hybridfanfiction ( their prompts are the cutest, check them out!) This is my first attempt on sharing some of my work and is also my first hybrid fic. I love the reader inserts but not a fan of the Y/N type thing so feel free to just imagine your name instead if you prefer! I have material to make this a series but will leave it as a one shot for now to see if you guys like it! I totally don't own the gifts.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Read at your own risk 😂

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

A smile spread across her face as she listened to her little beam of sunshine’s effusive explanation of her adventures with her imaginary hybrid friend Tata, the girl’s imagination never ceased to amaze her mother. It was definitely a trait that she got from her Father, she thought with a certain melancholy in her eyes.

‘’ And then, last time, Toby was being really mean, he said that I was weird and pulled my hair, but Tata growled at him a little bit and he ran away. Isn't he the best Mama?" - Her little eyes twinkled with adoration, Autumn's first instinct was to coo at her cuteness but something of what she said sent alarms to her mind.- "Haneul, honey, are kids being rude to you at school?" - Having her daughter being bullied at school because of her heritage was one of her biggest fears-

" Mmm… sometimes, but after Tata saved me, they haven't! - She smiled the brightest smile, and Autumn felt a knot clog her throat and dread wash over her stomach. She forced a smile at the best of her ability while nodding and made a mental note to talk with the teachers at the end of the day. She would transfer her daughter to another kindergarten if needed.- ‘’ Ok, honey bear, we are here. Remember that I’m picking you up earlier today for your dentist’s appointment. - Haneul immediately sulked at the prospect, murmuring indecipherable complaints under her breath, but she still kissed her mom’s cheek before running off when she caught the sight of her favorite teacher.-

Autumn waved at the teacher, answering to her smile with one of her own as the teacher was dragged away by an enthusiastic Haneul. Just for the time being she decided to put her worries aside and tend to some of the urgent matters at hand. Jimin and Jin were driving her insane by the minute, her phone buzzing every 2 minutes as if they were taking turns to annoy her.

‘’ You know perfectly fine that I need to drop Haneul at school every day, Jimin!’’ - Was her response as she heard the whiney complaints from the other side of the line, she assured that she would be there in a few minutes with a roll of her eyes before she hanged up.

She loved her friends with her whole heart, they were the ones that pulled her through when Haneul’s dad decided to abandon her while she was pregnant with their daughter, If it wasn't for them and Haneul herself, she wouldn’t be where she is at… But they were, a lot of the time, pains in the butt.

The store was a battlefield once she got there, flowers and decorations scattered everywhere, and a very stressed out Jungkook running around under the direction of an even more stressed out Jimin. They looked at her as if she was some kind of savior before throwing themselves to her arms once they realized she had arrived. She could just roll her eyes at their antics before getting down to work.

‘’ Ok, I’m out!’’ - She announced, after they finally handed out the last piece of arrangements for the wedding, the event was a really big project and she was relieved that everything turned out ok, the customer was more than ecstatic with the results, and there were really few things that gave Autumn more satisfaction than a happy customer.-

‘’ But Noona…’’ - Came Jimin’s protest as an instant response. But it died out quickly when she turned around sharply and Jin put his hand over his mouth to quiet him down. She could be a little scary when tired. Jin thought the younger boy should know better, having been her friend for so long. - ‘’ Go ahead, and bring Haneul over to my place afterwards, we miss our little bundle of joy, I’ll cook dinner for all of us! Maybe I could convince Yoongi to come and bring Hobi with him’’ - Jin requested and the other two agreed with eager nods, Autumn smiled lovingly, she truly had the best of friends. She assured that she would be back quickly as she made her way out of the flower store that Jin and her had opened together. The last thing she heard, a chorus of ‘’By noona’s’’ and ‘’I love you’s’’ ringing one over the other, that made her smile grow even bigger. She truly loved the punks.

‘’ I’m here to pick Haneul up for her dentists appointment’’ - The teacher nodded knowingly, with a small smile, apparently HaNeul had been complaining to all that would lend an ear about the terrifying encounter with a robot monster that she would have to go through that day. Autumn could just chuckle at her daughter's dramatics. - ‘’ Also, is Mrs. Lee, around today? I need to talk with her about some worries of mine’’ - The teacher sent her a worried look as she sensed the discomfort in Autumn’s tone but after she assured her that it wasn’t something too serious, she explained that the principal wasn’t available at the moment. Autumn would have to call her. She had known Mrs. Lee for a long time anyways.-

Following the direction of the young teacher that had to leave her on her own to attend one of the kids with a little potty emergency, Autumn made her way to the playground where all the kids were taking lunch break. After a few minutes, she spotted the light haired girl sitting over one of the farest corners close to the fence. Her heart dropped as she started to come closer and noticed who her little girl was talking so excitedly to, she couldn't believe her eyes, the school was not just reckless about bullying but they also let the kids unsupervised where they could be approached by strangers?

The stranger was munching on a half sandwich, the other half on Haneul’s hand remained untouched as she bounced on her place, there was a soft smile on the man’s face as he seemed to intently listen to her daughter. As Autumn came closer, her steps slowed down as she realized that HaNeul was actually talking with a hybrid, the male seemed to be younger than her, probably around Jimin’s age, but he was so skinny and dirty that he could easily pass for someone younger. Her heart hurt for him.

She noticed some movement that made her nervous but before her quickening steps took her close enough, a scene that horrified her took place before her eyes.

A group of kids came running with piles of mud gathered on their hands, one of them quickly throwing some in Haneul’s direction. A scream died on Autumn’s throat, unable to really comprehend what had happened before the kids ran away from the scene. The man that her daughter had been feeding for weeks now, the same one that she thought was just an imaginary friend, had jumped over the fence standing in between the projectile of mud and her daughter’s little body, staring down the mean boys until they had left the scene running.

‘’ MAMMA!’’ - Before having much time to react, Autumn felt the little body crash against her leg. HaNeul’s flushed little face was stained with drying tears as she explained how the mean boys had attacked her friend and asked her to help him out. Autumn took her in her arms, hugging her and whispering comforting words to calm her down. She started walking towards the Hybrid who was awkwardly standing in the same spot, mud dripping down his right leg, she noticed now that he was standing, how much taller than her he was. Once Haneul noticed her mom wasn't moving any more, she turned her head to face her friend and dedicated a watery smile towards him that he struggled to reciprocate. Autumn could sense the fear emanating from him.

‘’ Look, Tata! It’s my momma, isn’t she super pretty?!’’ - Haneul’s eyes sparkled with innocence, the hybrid timidly nodded in response and Autumn noticed a cute blush spreading across his cheeks. -

‘’ Hey there…’’ - Autumn started but was quickly interrupted by the terrified hybrid’s frenetic attempt to explain himself.- ‘’ I’m really sorry, I tried to refuse but she was so kind and her sandwich smelled really good. I… Please don’t report me, I’ll take any kind of punishment, but please don’t call Hybrid control.’’ - His deep voice ended up as a whimpery whisper as he begged her. Autumn felt her stomach drop and her mouth dried out, she felt like crying for the pitiful state of the boy in front of her. -

‘’ Sorry, but I have no intention to report or punish you whatsoever. I actually wanted to thank you for protecting Haneul, It makes me happy that she has a friend like you.��’ - His fluffy ears twitched in her direction as soon as she started talking but as she called him her daughter’s friend, his eyes jumped to her face, trying to look for any sign of hostility, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he took in the soft smile that she was dedicating him. - ‘’ I’m Autumn, an it’s a pleasure to finally meet you Tata!’’ - She extended her arm, patiently waiting for him to shake her hand. He hesitated for a few minutes before timidly taking her hand in his for a second of two. - ‘’ My name is actually Taehyung’’ - He softly corrected, the blush coming back to his sunken cheeks, making Autumn smile even brighter -

‘’ Well, Taehyung, if you don’t have anything else to do today, I would love to invite you for lunch to thank you for helping Haneul, you could come and wash out all the mud from the attack too if you would like.’’ - She suggested but he was nodding before she could even finish the idea. -

‘’ ¡Oh, my gosh! Mrs. Kim, I am so sorry, I don’t really know how he got here, the kids told me about what happened, I’m calling Hybrids control right now.’’ - The panicked voice of Haneul’s teacher caught their attention, Taehyung immediately flinching back with a loud whimper at the mention of hybrid control, pleading no’s flowing out of his mouth incessantly as he started backing away slowly. Haneul started crying out to him,but before things escalated too much, Autumn, lowered the teacher’s hand that was holding the phone. -

‘’It won’t be necessary, Miss Kang. Taehyung here is a friend of ours’’ - Autumn assured, making both the teacher and the Hybrid freeze on spot. She then gestured for Taehyung to come closer, Haneul reaching for his hand as soon as he was close enough. - ‘’ If you could just let Mrs. Lee know that I will be calling her, that would be awesome! - She requested before leaving the scene with the boy that already felt like the new addition to her family.

#bts hybrid au #taehyung #hybrid taehyung #bts fic #bts jin #btsv #bts jhope #bts yoongi #bts jimin #bts namjoon

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poptod · 3 years ago

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The Breeding Kings, pt. 3 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: The blacksmith.

Notes: I Love this story but i know yall arent that interested in it which is kinda yikes for me but theres no way im not finishing this fic whether its now or two years from now WC: 7.8k (again im so sorry)

By the time you and Ahkmen actually made it out of the pyramid, most of the stars had vanished, and the dawning light of the sun sparked a panic in the Prince's heart. He hurried you back to the shore, picking you up and setting you in the boat before pushing the boat far into the water. Constant glances over your head let him keep an eye on the shore, on the rotating guards at the gates, and where was best to tie the canoe back up.

In the end, he found a spot as far away from the gates as possible, securing the boat before helping you out of the rickety contraption.

"Have you school?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered beneath his breath, adjusting his belt.

With that he took your hand, jogging down the wooden docks until you came to the entrance. He ran through that as well, terrified of anyone recognizing him, and didn't leave enough time for you to think on it long. Ever respectful, he saw you home before sprinting back to the palace by himself, wind burning his eyes all the way up.

For the next couple days he took extra care in his physical health. Learning to calculate the time of day and its' relation to the curvature of the earth, while in the blazing heat of the sun, had not fared well on his sleep-deprived mind. When he returned home that evening, he slept over 12 hours in a dead faceplant on his bed. Upon waking he found Piye looming above him with a knowing expression.

"How much time have you been spending with that Yogi?" They asked in a clearer, less clogged voice than Ahkmen had been able to manage through the amount of beer he'd had recently, paired with how little sleep he had.

"Didn't come home one evening," he grumbled, raising his hand to wipe away the tiredness from his eyes. "Got a lot of sleep last night, though."

"I can see that. Get up. We've got some time yet before the weekend," Piye said with a clap that roused the young Prince.

"Good morning, my Prince," said Naguib, who slipped in through the door. "The Pharaoh's dinner with the emissaries from Ebla is tonight. He wants you there."

"I have other places to be," Ahkmen whined, his shoulders drooping as he looked up.

"So does he," Piye said flatly.

School passed by without him ever seeing you, a fact that disappointed him more than it saddened him. His mood got him into a small verbal bout with one of his teachers, and though Piye tried to hold him back, the school day ended with him in one of the study rooms watching Yafeu argue with his father.

Ahkmen huffed, resting the weight of his head on his open palm balanced on the table in front of him. Yafeu couldn't tell him that he wasn't allowed in the school anymore, but the Priest would do his best to make sure Ahk got the second best punishment.

"I expect more from you, Ahkmen," his father said quietly as they walked side by side back to the palace. "None of your brothers have the skills or the wherewithal to lead a country. That responsibility may fall to you."

"Kamun is the oldest, isn't he?" Ahkmen grumbled. "He's the one who's going to be Pharaoh."

"Nothing is set in certainty, my son. Now then, in a few hours the Eblans will arrive, and a dinner will follow."

"Does that mean I have some free time, then?" Ahk asked with a sudden, bright change in tone.

"I want you to get ready," Merenkahre said, frowning. "Not play around with your friends."

"I'll only be there an hour at most," he said, playing off his own innocence.

The Pharaoh paused in the street to look down at Ahkmen, before letting out a long sigh.

"Very well. One hour."

Ahkmen didn't wait to return to his room––he turned and immediately set back off down the road, dashing and twisting through the crowds that formed the closer he got to the temple of Osiris. He barely looked to see where his hands and feet were as he climbed over the familiar crates, landing back in your alley and ducking back into your home.

To his surprise, Piye was already sitting in your waiting room, their feet set on a high shelf with their butt in a pile of blankets.

"Oh, hello Ah–"

You entered the room with massive goggles on.

"-hhh whhhat's up?" Piye corrected with wide eyes.

"... not much," Ahkmen said slowly. "I have a dinner with my parents in an hour, so I can't stay for long."

"I do need one help," you said as you pulled your goggles off, examining the material in your glove-clad hands. "I need a.. a..."

You snapped your fingers, attempting to recall the name of something. Ahk and Piye waited patiently.

"A kaentam," you muttered before a curse. "It is the rocks that kiss."

Piye stared at you dumbfounded, their mouth half open.

"You mean a magnet?"

"I think, yes," you said, though you didn't look sure. "Panya and her rock are still not... I do not know the type of her rock. I need your 'magnet' for to find the – the name."

"Well it's not exactly easy to find magnets," Ahkmen said slowly, picking at his chin as he thought.

"No, yeah," Piye agreed in the same contemplating tone. "I know they're used in medicine, but it's a... an unconventional treatment. Kind of expensive."

Ahk stared at the ground, continuing to play with the skin of his jaw.

"I think I know where we might find some," Ahk said after a moment.

"What is it?" You asked, stepping nearer.

"Osiris' temple. Priests have areas for medicine, and we already know the layout of the place."

"It's late, though. We're not allowed to enter after sunset," Piye pointed out.

"That's why it's good we know the layout!" Ahk said as he stood. "Now let's go."

"Don't you have a formal dinner in an hour?" Piye asked, watching Ahkmen leave out the door with a quirked brow.

"Let's gooo!" Ahkmen sang from outside.

Anything to distract from the coming responsibilities––anything to earn your favor, to win you over in some fashion he was convinced he hadn't already won you over in. You followed him out with a smile, murmuring a small greeting and thanks before Piye also appeared from behind you.

"And onwards we go, to Osiris, to Osiris," Ahk sung as he scaled the crates, followed by you and Piye in order.

"We have obtained," Piye continued the song with a grunt, "forever and ever, what your Grace will gift us."

"You talk like your heads have nothing in their side," you said, to Ahkmen's great amusement.

As Ahkmen originally suspected, most of the temple's inhabitants were too preoccupied with the evening adulations to notice three children, however strange looking, entering the complex. Ahk entered first, donned in his usual golden fabrics, followed by Piye, who by themselves always looked out of place no matter where they were or what they wore, and then you, a child at Piye's side, dressed in an unfamiliar but royal fashion.

Murmurings and voices could be heard from the tall roof of Osiris' temple, where many of the hour priests gathered to scan the heavens. Already the brightest stars shone through the light of sunset, a fact Ahkmen was quite glad about, since it would keep attention off him.

"Yafeu's room here has many, many supplies," Ahkmen whispered as the three of you crept down the open hallway.

"How do you know that?" Piye asked.

"I was sent there so he could yell at me and he's got bookcases and chests worth of things in there. What a monetary bastard," Ahk said with a tut, chuckling from his own humor.

When he reached the door to Yafeu's office, he slowly turned the lock, letting the wood door swing open with a creak. He motioned Piye in, then you, before following in himself, locking the door behind him.

Although Ahkmen might've been privy to the private belongings of the high priest, you and Piye shared no such knowledge. Piye, who had to bow down slightly due to the height of the ceiling, slowly scanned the room, from the pots to the jars and tapestries hanging from the walls. A reed mat had been set on the floor, keeping away the dirt and sand anyone might drag in.

"Where does he keep his medical supplies?" Piye asked quietly, taking a ginger step forward as they scanned the shelves with their eyes. When they spotted nothing useful, they began to rifle through them with their hands.

"No clue. Let's start, shall we?"

The three of you set to searching the room, categorically searching the different shelves––Piye for the tallest two, Ahk for the middle, and you for the lowest. You tried your best to keep quiet, wary of those who passed by outside the door.

"Why do you need a magnet again?" Ahkmen asked after several minutes of silent searching.

"Panya's rock seems iron in a... clean.. way? It is.. not how you see it in earth, and I don't know it. But your magnet will," you made a motion with your hands of them colliding together, "if I am right."

"You must know quite a lot about metals," Piye said, not bothering to tear away from the work at hand. You and Ahkmen, however, had stopped to look at each other when he spoke.

"My family is... kaghruppakal, moving.. metal, to make into things," you said as you reluctantly returned to the baskets on the bottom shelves.

"Blacksmiths," Piye said.

"Thank you," you said. "My father father's had it learned by the Kings in my home. They give us a good home for years, but they give no... money. So when new King comes, we had no home after."

"What do you mean, new King?" Ahk asked with a confused furrow in his brow.

"It is long and I do not know the how to say in Egyptian, but a man killed the King and stole his name," you said quietly.

"Is that why you left your home?" Ahkmen asked. "There was a revolution?"

"More of a usurping," Piye muttered.

"A little, yes," you said with a nod, before falling quiet.

Ahkmen waited a moment to see if you would say anything else, and a moment to wonder if he would say anything else, but ultimately returned to scavenging through Yafeu's belongings.

Statuette.

More gold bracelets.

Ancient scripture.

"You have to leave for that dinner pretty soon," Piye said in a dull voice.

"I don't need to leave for anything or anyone."

"Ureka!" you suddenly cried, a toothy smile coming to you as you forgot yourself.

Ahkmen and Piye both shushed you, to which you quickly apologized in a much quieter voice.

"I saw them," you said, extending in your hand a pair of magnets stuck to one another.

"Oh thank Gods," Piye said in a rush of breath, their hands immediately falling from the tall shelves. "Let's get back and see if it reacts to your stone."

"No, no, I bring it here," you mumbled distractedly as you dug into your large pockets, pulling out the shiny metal.

He watched in bated breath as you raised the magnets to Panya's stone. The whole of the process meant little to him, but it was part of your job, and he enjoyed partaking in little bits of your life.

This handicapped understanding of your work left him rather confused at your excitement when the magnets stuck to Panya's rock. You gasped, marveling at the reaction. As you moved to your feet, you never looked away, holding it close to your chest.

"Irumpu," you said through your smile. "Iron."

"I'm quite glad you've figured this out, but for the time being, we need to get out of here without being spotted," Ahkmen said, putting his hands on your shoulders before gently moving you aside, and opening the door a crack.

Piye spoke in a mumble with you as he stuck his head outside, the cool air of night filling his lungs, distinct from the stuffy walls of Yafeu's office. There were few people in the courtyard, as most of the priests and workers were still preoccupied with their finishing tasks for the night.

He motioned the two of you over, leading you silently outside. You crept along the wall with quick feet, skipping out of the temple, and running back into your home in a smiling rush.

The rush of adrenaline in his blood soon dissipated, comforted by the familiar shades of red and gold always resting upon your crown. Still staring at the metal, you collapsed down in your cushion pile, moving to hold the ball above your head as you stared. Ahkmen chuckled at your behavior, taking a seat beside you as Piye fell in a similar manner as you did across the room.

"Happy?" Ahk asked teasingly.

"Very," you said. "I must to find who had made it. The old King shows my father father's how to make it, but I never ask. And," you snapped your fingers, "then it is gone. When they go."

"Your grandfather knew how to purify and mold iron?" Piye asked in a low but loud voice, sitting quickly up.

"Yes, and it is good for..." you made a stabbing motion, "things that make people dead."

"Weapons," said Ahkmen.

"Etuvaka. Not many know how it makes, and that is how – why we come here. Makes better money, more than a city. Our city, people know how to," you mimicked squishing and molding things in your empty hands, "do with iron, so it is all every shop. Here, it was my family, only my family."

"That must've been quite the business at the time," Piye said in a softer voice, still low as they contemplated your words.

"We make good money," you said with a nod. "But I know this not. I want... to see.. find the maker. Hear his words."

"You'll probably want to see Panya, then," Ahk said. "It was her who found it, right?"

"I think yes."

"Wonderful. You'll go find her, and I will take him home," Piye said as they stood, gesturing to Ahk with their chin. "Dinner, remember?"

"Has anyone told you how irritating you are?" Ahkmen said, but nonetheless obeyed and stood.

"Your father reminds me every day," Piye responded flatly as the two returned to the palace.

Ahkmen drummed his fingers against the table below him, leaning the weight of his head on his raised knee. His mother had forced him into his royal clothes––the actual royal clothes, not just the expensive ones––and the crown his parents had made him gave him headaches with its' weight. Pure gold was heavy.

Ebla was a trading nation from the north who supplied a small but important type of material rarely found in the desert; wood. That was what Merenkahre and the Eblaite queen spent two hours talking about. Wood. They brought other goods such as rarely-found textiles and handcrafted artifacts as well, but they focused on the wood. It made sense, since that was what Egypt required the most, but it still bored him terribly.

Piye was much luckier by his reckoning. They didn't have to attend duties such as these. All the things they had to do were fun, things like gathering ingredients from the markets or the side of the Nile, going off on quests to defeat mythical beasts.

The young prince huffed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from tapping his fingers too loudly. Walls of grandeur surrounded him, a good enough difference from your home that he was nearly shocked when he entered his own home, staring up at the towering ceiling. His style was slowly changing, as it usually did, to accommodate new aspects of his life; this had happened before on many occasions, as he suspected it did with many other teenagers his age.

A dream to look at. He would reckon your smile would match against any angelic beauty––anything holy was a common miracle in comparison to the subtle, entrancing magic of your laughter, his hand holding yours as he dragged you, pretending not to notice the racing of his heartbeat. A dream.

He wanted nothing more than to scoop you up and drown you in kisses. In order to avoid his own disappointment at his fantasy not currently being reality, he bit deeper into the inside of his cheek, pressing down harder on his open palm.

Hours later, he stared up at the canopy of his bed, the sheets tossed around his body till most of them hung half of the bed. His breathing was the only noise in the still room.

Until his breathing irritated him so fiercely he sat straight up in a huff, a frown on his forced expression.

"Fucking... thoughts," he muttered to himself, halfheartedly punching one of his pillows.

He could not manage to tear his mind from you. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of you, and adrenaline built in him as he unwillingly imagined your face. Would you mind if he came to see you? It must've been past midnight. You worked during the day. He shouldn't bother you.

Ten minutes later he was fully dressed and sneaking out of the palace, a shroud of cloth concealing his identity as he moved along the shadows. He reckoned Piye, who also slept inside the palace, did not want to see you at this hour, and he left them to sleep.

Ahkmen wasn't sure what he was looking for in returning to you, but as per usual, fantasies spared no expense in the luxurious self-indulgence department, scenes playing behind his eyes of the two of you 'naturally' finding yourselves in intimate situations. Most of it consisted of him finally getting some sleep, this time with you in his arms or wrapped around his waist.

Despite his embarrassment concerning previously mentioned fantasies, they did inspire him to move faster, and before he knew it he found himself standing in front of your tent, hesitating for the first time.

Again his doubts plagued him. He comforted himself with the fact that he had come all this way, and it seemed a rather foolish idea to give it up now.

With that he entered, his eyes immediately falling to the one candle lit in the shadowed room. The usual rushlights set about the entrance room––where he and his friends usually sat about and did nothing––had disappeared, leaving much of the folds of cloths in shadows that casted stark against the single flame.

"Yogi?" Ahk said in a much quieter voice than required.

The sound of rustling blankets had his heart sinking in his chest. He had hoped, at least, that he wouldn't bother you from your sleep––most of him believed you would be up all night working.

"Aganu?" You murmured softly, high and quiet with the sleep pulling at your lips.

"Uh, yes," he said, trying to peek behind the curtain separating your bedroom front your shop. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late. I thought you'd be up, I – I can leave."

"No, no," you mumbled. "Is good. Come here."

He gulped, gingerly stepping forward and pulling away the cloth door. Behind it, you lay in a pocket of space built into your fabric wall, drowning you in luxurious blankets of red and gold. All that remained visible was your eyes, an adoring sight in his mind.

"Why've you got that light in the other room?" Ahk asked quietly, kneeling down in front of you.

"More not strong. It is very red," you said, poking your finger out to gesture to the room as a whole. "Good for night sleeping. Why are you coming here?"

"You mean your house or your bed?" Ahk said, stepping away as he became aware of his closeness to you.

"My house."

"Couldn't sleep," he said with a shrug. "Thought you might be able to help."

"Why?" You asked, before backtracking. "Wait, that is not the word I mean. Um... how do you want help?"

"I don't know. Maybe you have a potion, or just a better bed than I do," he said, chuckling.

"I have both."

"Hey, you haven't even felt my bed," he said in a teasing manner. "How do you already know your bed's better?"

"Because it is not hard."

Fair enough point––Egyptian beds were essentially a table built for the purpose of sleeping. Good for the hot weather, bad for the joints.

"I don't want to disturb you, though," he said quietly as you began to rise, sheets and thick blankets falling from your shoulders to reveal the naked expanse of your chest and stomach. He gulped, though fortunately not audible, as you stretched your hands up.

"It is no problem," you said, sighing deeply as your arms fell.

Rooting around in your bed, you found a large but thin blanket, wrapping it around your body before you left your comforts. You yawned as you stood, but faithfully wandered to your potion storage. Ahkmen had never seen any of your potions, as he didn't believe a hangover cure counted as one, and thus he looked eagerly over your shoulder when you knelt down. Glass and pottery clinked together as you searched.

"What kind of potions do you make?" Ahk asked, stepping back when you once more rose to your feet.

"To help bodies," you said, gesturing to your own body, "and soul." You tapped your heart.

He frowned. Obviously.

"Do you have like, a love potion?"

"Why you ask that?"

"Just curious," he said quickly.

"I have... khamam potion. You make a man drink it and they will.. have..." you trailed off, unable to explain fully. "Love to you? When they make the children."

"Sex?"

"Sure. They do the sex. Man or woman," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand.

"How do you make a potion like that?"

"You think I give it with no paying? I must make money, Aganu," you chuckled softly, bopping his nose with your finger, before sobering to speak. "This is a potion that will make you calm. Ready for sleep, yes."

"Oh, thank you," Ahkmen said, taking the small, clay bottle. "How much do I owe you?"

"Speak more about the sky."

He quirked a brow.

"That's your price?"

"I want to know more. I go to school to clean, not hear, but I want to," you said, taking his hands in your cloth-covered hands, and staring upwards. "I am alive to see and hear and I want to hear you."

You couldn't be aware of the effect of your words. Not with eyes that innocent. But, as usual, his heart raced painfully in his chest, overflown with an affection he had no choice but to hold back.

"... very well," he murmured, and led you back to your bed. You crawled in, surrounding yourself in blankets once more as Ahk sat on the floor, carefully watching your sleepy, fluttering eyes.

"The sky––well, more specifically the night sky, is a woman. Her name is Nuit. At sunset, her head in the west consumes Ra, and in the morning, she births him again. Her eyes are the sun and moon. Her lover, Geb, is the earth, but they are forever forced apart by Ra, who placed their father to separate them," Ahk said, reciting information he had long known. "His name is Shu. He is the air that lets us breathe."

"Why did Ra want them apart?" You asked quietly, muffled behind your blankets.

"Nuit became pregnant by Geb. Ra found it an abomination, cursed her to never give birth on any day of the year. But Thoth helped her––won a few games of Senet against Khonsu, god of time, and earned her five days in which she gave birth to five children."

"Who?"

"Osiris on the first day. That's his temple you work at. Then I believe it was.. Horus.. Seth, Isis, and her sister, Nephthys." He paused to yawn. "Those are the epagomenal days, at the end of the year. Pretty big celebration."

"I like to see this," you mumbled.

"I'll take you this next year," he said. "There's plenty of food and beer for everyone."

Your breathing was beginning to slow, and when Ahk noticed that, he fell into silence. Instead he stared at your closed eyes, your cheek squished into your pillow. Too much to look at. The better half of him yearned to reach out and touch you, but the remaining bits of his conscious reminded him that that was, beyond anything, an incredibly strange thing to do.

He was even more grateful for his decision to remain still when your eyes opened on an inhale, blinking slowly as you met his gaze.

"Tired?" You asked. "Potion does not takes long."

He chuckled, "yeah. I'm pretty tired now."

"What time does it take to walk to your house?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe thirty minutes."

"You are.. you will fall by then," you murmured.

"Asleep?"

"Yes. It is a strong potion."

You paused, scanning his body and its' position near you.

"Remain here," you said, soft as the silk you drowned yourself in. "For the night."

The rope around his heart tightened at your request. His imagination, somehow, had come to fruition.

"Where will I sleep?" He asked, fighting back another yawn.

"All places. Do what you want," you sighed. "Or you fall sleep in the street."

"Very funny. Scoot over."

You glared up at him, but eventually gave in, scooting closer to the wall to make room for him. He pulled his jewelry off him before sidling in, hoping to avoid hurting you accidentally.

When he turned to face you, he found his forehead crowning you, his nose just barely brushing against yours.

"Thanks," he murmured. "You didn't have to."

"I know," you whispered in a breath, closing your eyes.

Only a few hours later he was awakened by something prodding at his face. His eyes fluttered open, blearily finding Piye above him, poking his cheek with a fireplace fork. Ahkmen groaned, turning over on his side.

"Don't you ignore me, you royal pain," Piye said, prodding him harder yet. "Do you know how many lies I had to tell to your father?"

"Piye, it's way too early in the morning for this," he said groggily, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"It's midday!"

"I got here late," Ahkmen said as he slowly fell out of the bed, sliding onto the floor.

Piye grasped the top of Ahk's head by his hair, lifting his face and kneeling to meet him.

"I swear to the Gods if you had sex with a ci–"

"I did not," Ahk hissed, wriggling till Piye's grip loosened.

Reluctantly, Ahkmen rose to his feet, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes and pulling your blankets off the floor, placing them back on the bed. The lumps in the cloth suggested your presence, but as he pulled them away he found the rest of the bed empty. He stepped back in surprise.

Piye looked over his shoulder, frowning as they, too, saw your absence.

"Isn't this Yogi's bed?"

"It was last night," Ahk said.

"I am here," you said from behind. Ahk whirled around, coming face to face with you struggling to pull on a large, ornate coat.

"Oh. What are you doing?" Ahk asked with a frown.

"I am placing my coat."

"We can see that," Piye said flatly. "It's hot outside. Why do you need it."

"Pockets," you said, opening your jacket to reveal a plethora of pockets sewn into the inner seams. "I do go to market now. I will see for the man that had made this."

You reached into one of your pockets, pulling out the block of pure iron some blacksmith had thrown away.

"Will I go to Panya? If she wants to?" You asked, pocketing the metal once more.

"Probably should," Ahk said with a yawn, stretching his hands high enough that they raised the cloth ceiling. Piye nodded in agreement.

"She likes to stay in control," Piye added.

"I can help you get there," Ahk offered expectantly.

"Oh! Thanks many," you said, grinning wide. "I do not know to find her."

"I better come too," said Piye, who crossed their arms. "He always seems to get into trouble without me there."

"You say that as though I don't get into trouble when you're with me, too," Ahk chuckled.

"I'm not in the mood today, Ahk," Piye whispered, gripping Ahk's upper arm tight enough to leave temporary marks.

"Then don't come along," Ahk whispered back. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Piye glared at him but said nothing, walking swiftly out the door and closing the flap behind them. It left Ahkmen once more alone with you, awkwardly shuffling his feet as you prepared yourself, carefuly to remember all your tools.

"Thank you, again," Ahkmen said after a moment of silence. "For letting me sleep here."

"Yes, yes. Go now."

You pushed him out the door, following as you fixed the tassels of your pants. Thin ropes flipped every which way till you knotted them, tightening around your waist, before you set off towards the common streets. Ahkmen followed, though he couldn't see where Piye had gone.

Murmuring conversations surrounded him, circled by flocks of people heading towards Osiris' temple. Shoulders and feet pushed on him, shoving him about as he headed in the opposite direction, always searching for your scarlet red robes. They set you quite wide apart from the usual crowd, and thus the Prince used them as an identifier.

People cast looks in his direction as he continued to shove and push, a constant stream of shaky apologies tumbling from his mouth. He considered himself adept at moving through crowds, but he had clearly not gotten as much practice as you did, which combined with your smaller size, led you to stop far ahead to wait for him.

He panted as he reached you, pausing with a heavy chest.

"Feel you good?" You asked, quirking a brow.

"I don't do well when I haven't eaten in the morning," he said, his voice cracking as he bent over slightly, his hands on his knees.

"Funny Egyptian man," you laughed, reaching up to ruffle his already messy hair. "You are... too full of money."

"I wouldn't doubt that," he muttered, recalling the many luxuries his father had given him throughout his life.

"I buy your food, we will go," you said as you returned to walking, slow to allow him time to catch up.

"Oh, don't worry about that," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he rose to follow you. "I can pay for it. Don't waste your money."

"Right?"

"... yes," he said, after having given up on trying to decode what exactly you'd meant.

As the two of you entered the main streets of the city, the conversations of strangers grew louder, more densely packed between houses and stalls full of goods. Through the street you now walked down, there must've been at least five different spice carts. Careful mountains of cumin and ginger were placed in the corner of nearly every stop.

Near the end, he found a small stall of a woman selling beer. He reached for you, pausing your step as he dug into his own pocket, pulling out a silver ring.

"One cup, please," he asked, to which the lady politely acquiesced. He set the ring down on her counter. "Will this do?"

"... one more than that," she said, her gaze flickering from the ring to Ahk's eyes.

He pulled out another ring, and with that she handed him the cup, taking the rings simultaneously.

"Have a good day!" She said as the two of you left.

Ahkmen sipped at his drink with a satisfied sigh, relaxing into the sweet, familiar taste. Your drinks were good, but far too alcoholic to be worth any sustenance.

"I want a little," you said, moving on your toes so as to see inside his cup.

"Sure," he said, and handed it to you. You returned it after a couple swallows.

"We look for Panya, yes?" You asked.

"Oh, right. I'll take you to her house."

Panya didn't live far away from the center of town, so in a matter of minutes you were already knocking on her door. What you didn't expect, however, was for the High Priest of Osiris' temple to answer it.

He eyed you up and down, your odd way of dress, the dot on your forehead, before his gaze fell to Ahkmen. It was then his eyes narrowed, coldly recognizing the prince.

"What do you want," he said, leering down at you.

"Your daughter," said Ahk, who was leant against one of the pillars outside Panya's mansion of a house.

"You may not have her."

"I –"

Before Ahk could finish, something tugged on the inside of his arm, pulling him away from the doorstep. You didn't seem to notice, busy conversing with Yafeu. He turned round, stumbling with broken balance before he looked up, meeting Piye's eye.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, glancing back to you and the priest.

"I've been thinking," Piye murmured, leaning down to lessen the space between them, "I don't think we should go around the markets just talking about a purified iron. I think it might land you in trouble."

"Why?" He scoffed.

"I’ve been at all my father’s meetings with the Pharaoh and his generals and they’re talking about iron. How to get it, how to use it, how to control it, everything,” they said.

“Well why’s that a problem? They did the same thing with wood.”

"Not like this! Iron, it – it's incredibly strong. If we had armor made of that, shields made of it, weapons made of it, it'd give us an enormous amount of military power, and with your father in rule, I don't think that's a good idea," they said in a growing volume before they remembered Yafeu was there, and quieted down again.

"What's wrong with my father?!" Ahk gasped.

"Nothing!" Piye hissed, eyes darting back up to Yafeu to see if he had noticed. "He just has a habit of oppressing people!"

Ahkmen snorted. His hand shot up to cover his mouth, quiet giggles wracking his body.

"I'm sorry," he wheezed, "that shouldn't be funny. Sorry."

"It's fine," Piye said with a long sigh. "You know what I mean. If word gets to him that this little immigrant over here has a key to finding how to shape iron, he isn't going to take a visit and credit them with the discovery. He's going to deport them, cover it up, and claim he learned it from the Gods. You know everything’s a game to him."

Ahkmen's breath caught in his throat as Piye laid out the consequences in plain, simple terms he could understand. That would be the end of your friendship, but more importantly, it was also the end of your livelihood. You were still young––around his age––and you didn't know much else except living in Egypt. If he were to take your word, your home to the east was far, far away, and ruled by an unjust dictator. You would not make the journey there alone, let alone when you actually reached your city.

"What do you suppose we do?" Ahkmen said after a minute or two of deep thought.

"I think –"

"We can go here," you said, passing by them with Panya and, unsurprisingly, Unas bringing up the rear.

"Wait –"

He went to stop you, but Piye stopped him first.

"Best you don't tell them. We're not from the palace, remember?" Piye muttered, before promptly following you off the steps of Panya's house. Ahkmen, however disgruntled as he was, followed as well.

"I wish I was poor," he grumbled, walking alongside Piye, who kept a fair enough distance from you and your customers.

Piye struck him with a flat palm against the back of his head. The weight in his neck rolled forward, kinking it awkwardly, to which he let out a yelp of pain.

"Don't say that. Others in your country, in this city, starve. They would give anything to be you."

His frown drew tighter, irritant clogging his thoughts. Every inconvenience angering. He breathed deeply, willing the feeling away, and sped his pace to catch up to you. Panya might've been up there, but her presence would be a small price for yours.

The markets approached faster than he realized, and soon he was once more surrounded by strangers bartering and advertising. Thin tarps of orange and dusty yellow spread from one side of the thin street to the other, sheltering merchants from the hot sun, and allowing them to hang different products on the lines. He ducked under rings of cloth and over piles of incense, shakily following your wavy trail through the walkway.

Heat began to redden his cheeks, and it was then he realized that you'd made it to the blacksmith area of market, near to the kitchens. Fire stoking bread and metal filled the open air, made much clearer by the absence of the shading tarps.

"Uh, Yogi," he said, grabbing your shoulder to stop you before you could enter. "I think we should keep on the down-low, this purified iron, people might start talking."

You looked him up and down.

"Okay," you said, turning back round to enter the shop.

It took until evening before you made any progress. Most everyone you met was skeptical of you, which wasn't surprising considering the size and age of your group. But the last man you came to was still working, even as everyone around him ate dinner, readying to leave for home or staying for music.

He had long hair––longer than Piye's, trailing down to his mid-thigh. Unlike theirs, his was black, and much stringier in comparison. The knotted rope used to hold his hair back as he worked was crude at best, and one he had to constantly fix. Ahkmen didn't see it, but you noticed he was much skinnier than most of the other blacksmiths, who had grown muscles over the years of their work.

You approached him much like you approached everyone; a bright, commercial cheerfulness that came across as dangerously fake. To those who had spent good time in the markets, it was easy to see through. Those who hadn't, however, couldn't quite decode why you were unsettling, other than you being foreign.

"What did you say this was for again?" The man asked, his voice a quiet, low rasp. He had seated himself amongst your menagerie, matching the height of Piye, who was of course the tallest member.

"We are trying to find the owner of an amulet," Panya lied smoothly, pulling off one of her many necklaces and handing it to the man. "Or rather, the maker."

He took the necklace with skinny fingers, twisting it round in them as he surveyed the whole of it.

"Gold, ruby.. copper," he muttered, pointing to each of the different beads as though you could understand him mumbling. "Silver?"

Panya gestured for the amulet back, which he gave, and she strung it back around her neck.

"Iron. It's the purest we've ever seen and we're looking for the source," she said, pointing to the rest of the group.

"The durability is incredible. I would love to have access to that kind of things in my buildings and such," Unas added.

"I know," the blacksmith said, his hair still drooping long in front of his face. "I have been searching for a way to purify the ore, but I cannot get my fires hot enough. I keep getting... what might be iron, but it never looks right. Then again, I – I don't know what the correct product would look like."

Well then, Ahk thought, that explains why it was in the junkyard.

You leant over to Ahk, moving to your knees so your lips met his ear as you whispered.

"Can I show him what we found now?"

"Um.." his eyes darted over to Piye, who was listening intently to the man's woes, "sure."

Tapping on the blacksmith's shoulder, you brought his attention to you and the heavy malformed metal in your hand. His eyes widened, near imperceptive behind all his hair, but certainly filled with shock.

"Is that my...?"

"It is iron," you said with a grin. "I live in a city where lots of iron everywhere. Here, not so much, but that is iron."

"Unas found it in the junkyard in the southern part of Memphis," Panya said, pointing a thumb to her friend.

"Shit," the man breathed out, combing a hand through his hair. "I don't know which one that was."

"Which what?" Ahkmen asked.

"Which heat level," Unas answered for him. "It takes a specific amount to actually purify different ores. Otherwise you might burn it into a charcoal."

"And the all other rocks and," you motioned grinding your fist into the palm of your other hand, "the rocks you smash until they are sand."

"Powder," Ahk said.

"Yes. I see, when I was 5, my father has powder in his furnace, in the iron," you said with a variety of questionable hand motions. "Red, and... a bright black. Shiny."

Ahkmen listened intently for the next hour and a half as you, Unas, and the blacksmith conversed about smelting techniques. Apparently, all of you had, at one point, attempted to smelt iron out of the ore, a fact that was made appalling because Egypt didn't have any iron. Most of the iron within the country was either imported or from the meteor, which was confined to only serving the royal family.

Even Piye eventually tired of the conversation that never seemed to stray from smelting, though you did for a short time discuss techniques for copper. Piye had an incredible sense of patience, so when they tapped Ahk to tell him they were leaving, Ahk realized he usually would've left ten minutes into the conversation.

It clicked quite quickly that he wasn't really listening––he was watching you, and that had somehow occupied him for a full hour and a half. A creeping sense of embarrassment had him hunching his shoulders.

"Unas, we should go, we have that thing in the morning," Panya murmured into Unas' ear, though Ahkmen still caught it.

"Oh, right," he said in a deflated tone. He stood, brushing off his skirt before facing the blacksmith. "Thank you for your time. Is it alright if I come back sometime? Might be better to have more than one person working on this."

"How old are you?" The blacksmith asked in his usual mumble.

"16."

"... okay," he said after a moment. "You're old enough."

"Oh, good. Well thank you, anyway," Unas said, before motioning to Panya to leave. He bowed his head slightly as he left the circle of conversation, following his friend back into the markets.

As she left, Panya turned to walk backwards, holding her hands out to you. You quickly caught her drift, and threw the ball to her. She thanked you from a distance.

"We should leave soon as well," Ahk whispered to you.

A few minutes later, the two of you were once more walking side by side, wandering down the now-vacant streets. Ahkmen had no idea where you were going, but was along for the ride no matter where you ended up. As you hastened your step, you took Ahk's hand, forcing him to match your pace with a giddy laugh.

"The night is clear," you said, walking backwards to face him without halting your step. "You will show me the star shapes, yes?"

"The constellations," he said with a soft chuckle, his body filling with a warm, lighthearted haze. "Of course."

You led him back towards your home but ignored the alleyway entrance, instead reaching the doors of Osiris' temple. The tall walls marked themselves steep against your small stature, casting long shadows in the moonlight, that tonight shone like a shell of the sun. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died stillborn as you tugged him into you. His chest met yours as he stumbled clumsily.

"Be safe, funny man," you giggled, looking down at him as his head's weight rested awkwardly in the crook of your neck.

What little citylights remained in the dead of night faded away as you scaled the tower, your neck craned upwards to the heavens. No matter how tall the roof of the temple was, no matter how high you climbed, the stars never seemed to move any closer. Their distance must've been incomprehensible, but inconsequential when grasping Ahk's hand to help him onto the roof.

He panted softly as he stood on his feet once more, brushing off the dust that came from the temple walls. You left him to wander to the center of the stone plateau. His breathing slowed, attention centering on you as your eyes still stared up into empty space.

You turned, noticing the heat of his gaze.

"Speak to me," you said in a voice that moved like music. "You tell on Sopdet, yes? And.. Sah. Nuit and Geb."

"Lie down with me," he said.

You dutifully obeyed, sliding down next to him, your clothes and hair splayed out.

For a good hour he pointed up, tracing the outlines of constellations he had studied all his life. Since you didn't know their shapes on paper, he drew the images in the dirt and sand collected on the roof, showing you how random collections of dots made up women and beautiful creatures, the everlasting Gods in the sky.

"I want to be... something beautiful," he murmured, looking down at his own shoddy illustrations. "Like the stars."

"You had say that when you will die, you will go to the stars, right?" You asked softly.

"In death," he said with a small nod. "I will not be able to see this earth. I will be one amongst millions. It's strange, but... I wish I could stay here forever. A star close to home."

"You are scared of being nothing," you said. "But we are nothing. We are nothing to birds, or to other cities. We are already nothing and everything. It is what you choose to make of you––make more of your everything, or sleep in your nothing. There is happy things in both."

"No time wasted in happiness is truly time wasted?" He said, remembering a familiar anecdote from school.

"Yes," you said with a smile.

Silence filled the space for a few minutes, stilled by the slow breathing of Ahk's chest. He closed his eyes, exhaustion tugging at him, all of which he ignored.

"Aganu?" You said, nearly whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I like my hours with you," you murmured, wide, warm eyes staring bashfully at him.

"I do too."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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a-mirror-of-memories · 4 years ago

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Ml prompts (salt edition)

As I promised, this are just some of the plots for fics that I been thinking, a few for a while, others today or this week. Not all of them involve Lila, and even in those she’s not always the focus (Not all of them can be considered ‘salt’ exactly, while others can be labeled as ‘actions have consequences’).

In case anyone want to use them this are the rules (I can made them since this are my ideas):

First of all I want to be tagged for the original idea.

No OOC or bashing of any character (except Gabriel).

No Alya salt unless it’s minimum and only if she’s redeemed at the end. She already gets more than enough hate from the fandom.

Other than that, please refrain of using any of the tropes mentioned in this post:

Max has a crush on Lila, that’s why he keeps believing everything she says (I thought this long before the twitter comment; besides it says that Max’s asexual, not aromatic).

Kim wants to be supporting since she’s his best friend’ first love, even if he doesn’t believe all of her tales (he’s not ruining his chances to become an Olympic medalist following a training regimen that Lila insist ‘was created for my great uncle, a platinum medalist’).

Alix’s getting sick of Lila, if she wanted to hear some self-insert bad fanfic she would spend more time with her brother.

Juleka wants to believe Lila and follows her advices about 'how to be a good model’ until her family intervenes.

After getting several comments complaining of how the Ladyblog’s really unorganized, Alya finally decide to create a side blog (Miracutales) for all the fan-arts and fanfics links her followers keep sending her, and with Nora’s help she spends a whole afternoon fixing her blog. When Lila’s finally exposed the blogger freaks out until her sister comments “Wait, that interview? I send it to your fanfic blog ages ago”.

Lila going on and on to Mylene about a movie actor the other admires, how they’re 'like this’ and that 'I can introduce you to him, he thinks of me as his niece’. Meanwhile the rainbow haired girl’s just nodding with a forced smile while the Italian keep spewing bullshit about her favorite theater actress.

Nino barging into Marinette’s room dragging his little brother, saying that she needed to watch over him on his place since he has a date with Alya. Cue to Alya clearing her throat from the other side of the room, where they were working on a school project.

Lila stole Nathaniel’s sketchbook the day before an important meeting and hid it in Marinette’s locker. Ignoring almost the whole class insistence that she didn’t do it, that anyone could’ve put it in there since there’s no locks, he grabbed her own sketchbook from her bag and ripped it into pieces to everyone’s horror. Marc saw this and he’s akumatized; once it’s all over he still ends their partnership*

*Although cruel, I don’t believe that this is so out of character for Nathaniel. He already has proven to have serious anger issues in Reverser and Evilustrador (While I don’t hold him responsible for what he did under Gabriel’s control, comparing him to other akumas wanting to get revenge of Chloe it’s worrying how much pleasure he seemed to find while tormenting her).

Adrien keep blowing off plans to hang out with his friends to go away as Chat Noir, using the excuse that his father keep adding things to his schedule. One day after he canceled once again, saying that he has a last minute photo shoot, the boys are hanging out in the park where they cross with Vincent. He tells them that he’s the only photograph that Gabriel Agreste trust to work with his son, and that Mr. Agreste was away on a trip for the weekend so Adrien’s schedule was pretty much free until his father came back.

It’s election time again and the Mayor’s opposition has a new slogan: “If he can’t even control his daughter, how can we trust him to protect this city best interest?”

Someone as a joke proposed Xavier Ramier (Mr. Pidgeon) as Mayor. He won.

Felix GV returns and once again pretends to be his cousin. He’s dragged into a photo shoot with Lila; he may be a bastard who hates his uncle and he may be annoyed with Adrien but he still has standards.

With the end of the school year near Alya’s just relieved that since they’ll start Lycée they wouldn’t have to deal with Chloe and Bustier (with her fairytales for assignments) ever again. Until a conversation with Marinette.

“What do you mean we would have Bustier again next year? We’re done with Francoise Dupond! She was your teacher for five years in a row*?! That woman is an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TEACHER??!”

*Until Chat Blanc Marinette’s been in Chloe class for five years now, at least four of them with Bustier according to picture’s day. Their class’ in middle school a.k.a three years so…well, that explains a lot about her teaching methods.

Marinette decides to let go of her crush on Adrien (not bashing), and with Alya supporting her choice (even if she doesn’t totally agree with giving up) Rose becomes the new captain of the Adrienette ship; trying to get them together against her friend wishes.

After discovering Hawk Moth’s identity Marinette decides she’ll never be like him and toss aside her dream of be a famous fashion designer. She either finds a new dream or simply opens just a small store away from the spotlight, with sporadic commission for people she’s close to.

At last, I like to call this section’s “Responsible Adults (Are trying their best)”

Marinette doesn’t know every celebrity under the sun, only Jagged, Nadja and maybe Clara. Gina Dupain, world traveler extraordinary, however has a rare gift when it comes to meeting new people by chance without knowing who they are*.

(“I sat beside this guy once in a plane, he was such a charming young man. Here, there’s a pic” “Nonna that was *insert celebrity here*!” “Who?”)

*This in the only kind of celebrity insert I would aprove.

Surprise inspection from the French educational department (whatever it’s called), some heads are going to roll.

Officer Raincomprix at first was happy that Sabrina stopped hanging out with Chloe and made a real friend; then he realized that this girl was even worse than the Mayor’s daughter.

The school nurse accidentally cause an international affair after calling the Italian Embassy asking why the Ambassador’s daughter didn’t have the proper vaccines for all the travels she keep claiming to have made.

After seeing Nathalie faint in the middle of a car drive, a worried Gorilla brings her to the ER. While checking her vitals (she’s still unconscious) a nurse accidentally knocks her brooch out of her coat, and while putting it back a strange creature materialize in front of them.

“Any of you has Ladybug in speed dial?”

One of the Agreste servants (let’s be honest, how else would that place stay clean) discovers Hawk Moth secret lair.

“I don’t get paid enough for this”.

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misslilli · 3 years ago

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Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | AO3

Chapter 11 - Friday Night's Alright For Fighting

[ FM ]

On Friday, it’s Felix’s mother’s turn to pick him up from school since he’ll be spending the weekend at her place. I briefly wonder if he’ll tell her about his new-found admiration for the enigmatic Miss Scully and for just a little bit, the petty side of me wishes he would. It’s not that she’s a bad mother per se, but she never shared a strong connection with our son and ever since the divorce, it somehow got worse instead of better.

Felix took the divorce pretty hard, lashing out at me and the teacher and kids at kindergarten. There were times when I couldn’t even recognize my own kid. Because of my background in psychology, I tried to talk to him countless times but I finally had to admit that I was too emotionally involved to really help him. So we began to see a therapist back in Washington, D.C, him and I. His mother refused to participate because “He never acts out when he’s at my place, Fox, seems to me like that’s a you-problem.” That day, only the thought of what would become of my son if I went to jail had kept me from murdering her on the spot.

We don’t stay in contact much, except for negotiating pick-up and drop-off times for Felix, and that’s about all I can handle from her. The custody battle was a hot mess, not because she particularly wanted to keep Felix, but she used it to humiliate me, dragging my abilities as a father and caretaker through the mud in front of a judge and our lawyers. I tried to keep Felix out of the court hearings, putting my foot firmly down when her lawyer suggested that we could just ask the child where he wanted to live. He was three years old at the time, fat chance I was going to let that happen.

Thankfully, we were able to convince the judge that I was willing and more than capable of caring for our son and that me working from home was a more child-friendly environment than his mother’s job, which takes her out of the country several times a month.

I take off my reading glasses and close my laptop, this trip down memory lane has put me in a sour mood. After putting away everything work-related for the weekend, I stretch my arms over my head, contemplating what to do with my free time. I don’t have any friends here yet and since I can’t meet anyone at work, I decide to walk down the street to the harbor.

The streets are pretty busy with locals and tourists alike and as I walk past the crowd that stand around the rock that marks the place where the pilgrims debarked the Mayflower back in 1620, I think to myself ‘Guys it’s just a rock. In the ground. Walled in on all four sides.’ I was pretty disappointed, if you couldn’t already guess that.

I continue my walk and pass the dock where you can usually see the Mayflower II anchored, swaying with the waves of the Atlantic. She’s an accurate and beautiful reproduction of the original ship with which the pilgrims had sailed to America, founding Plymouth Colony after 10 gruesome weeks at sea.

Currently though, the dock is empty safe for a few seagulls harassing the tourists – they have taken the ship to a shipyard in Connecticut for restoration, much to Felix’s chagrin. When he heard that we were going to move here, he spent countless hours reading up on the history of Plymouth, the Pilgrims and everything that happened afterwards. He got a real kick out of imagining the American Protestors and the British Government officials dressed up in frilly dresses and huge feathered hats, actually having a fancy tea party instead of the Boston Tea Party, which escalated the American Revolution in 1773.

His special interest, though, had been captured by the Mayflower, which is not surprising because he loves anything that’s big and can transport people or cargo. Planes, helicopters, trains, you name it, but especially ships. On the first night in our new house, he insisted that we leave the boxes packed for now and head down to the harbor, right now.

At first, always the responsible adult, I refused, but he didn’t let up, resorting to pleading with me, then he practically begged me and when I still wouldn’t budge he went in for the kill with his puppy-dog look and a pronounced pout. I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. Damn, he was using my very own look against me!

The tears still came a little while after, when we reached the harbor and found the dock deserted. I wanted to kick myself for not checking if the ship was actually there or not and I had to carry a bawling, devastated Felix back to our house. He only stopped crying when I promised him that we’d go see the Mayflower II the very second she sailed back into the harbor.

After another, more pleasant, trip down memory lane, I had reached my destination: The Cabby Shack, a local bar and restaurant that is made up of an inside bar downstairs and two large decks, the lower one housing the outside bar, the upper one the restaurant.

Making my way through the crowded room, I spotted an empty seat at the bar and ordered a drink aptly named Islands of Misfits. I snorted out a laugh at how accurately it described my situation right now. Island of Misfits alright, inhabitant: 1.

I took a sip of my drink and twirled the tiny umbrella between my fingers when out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone take the seat next to me at the bar.

“Islands of Misfits, huh? Must be bad!” Looking up, I’m surprised to see that it’s Walter Skinner, my son’s principal.

“Yeah, sort of. Sorry, hello sir, it’s nice to see you!” He shakes my hand briefly and orders himself a whiskey on the rocks. Had I been a more insecure man I would’ve felt stupid for my drink choice, but as it was, if I like my drinks sweet and with a cutesy umbrella in it, then that’s what I’ll have. And don’t you dare forget the fucking umbrella!

“So Mr. Mulder, what is it, love troubles?” As a born and raised city boy I have yet to come to terms with small town frankness but I like Principal Skinner and his lack of beating around the bush.

But still, I couldn’t exactly tell him the whole truth, I don’t think he’d appreciate a Actually yes, sir, I’ve been staring at one of your teachers for every damn day of the week and when I’m not busy staring at her, I think about her all the time. I wonder if her kisses taste like strawberries and what her hair smells like. I’m driving myself slowly insane by imagining running my tongue over the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and let me tell you about the dreams I’ve been having real quick. Yeah that won’t fly.

First, he’d kick my ass into the sixth dimension and then he’d have me arrested for gross misconduct or worse, sexual harassment. Even though I’m not sure if that’s really applicable when it only takes place in your mind, it’s still inappropriate as all hell and I’m not going to test out my little theory. I don’t think I’d fare well in jail, to be honest.

So instead, I opt for a more appropriate half-version of the truth. “Yeah, sort of. I had a huge argument with my ex-wife over the phone when she was late picking our son up from school. If I had one, I think my swear jar would be able to buy me my own Island of Misfits. And what’s even worse is that I think my – our son was there to hear at least her end of the fight.” I take a miserable sip from my drink.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Mr. Mulder. Your son’s name is Felix, right? He’s in Miss Anderson’s first grade?” Thankful for the slight change of topic, I nod.

“Yes, sir, that’s him. We got off to a rocky start but after the first week, he really loves going to school, Mr. Skinner.” The other man shakes his head and offers me his hand once again.

“Please, call me Walter. Outside of school only, of course, you understand.”

I grab his hand and give it a brief shake, smiling wryly. “Of course. I’m Fox but I make everyone call me Mulder. Even my parents. I hate my name.” He huffs out a laugh at that and I can tell that it’s a rare occasion.

“I get the feeling you’re in need of a friend on your island, Mulder not Fox.”

That I do, indeed.

Island of Maybe not such Misfits, inhabitants: 2.

Chapter 12 - A Rainbow In Its Natural Habitat

#xf #the x files #xf fanfic #msr #felix felicis

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findingnemo19 · 3 years ago

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Because of Seaweed (Percabeth AU)

A percabeth AU fanfic. That I had originally made because my friend didn't believe my writing was good, and now he's refusing to read the damn thing. Oh well. You guys will read it. That's more than enough. And, Shout out to my friend, Isha. She helped me with the plot to this fic. For this (mortal) AU, Malcolm is 2 years younger than Annabeth. Annabeth and Malcolm are Athena and Fredrick’s kids. Summary: Annabeth froze. She’s heard the 8 words multiple times in a teasing voice from her brother and her friends. She’s replayed the time she’d meet her soulmate in her head multiple times in multiple different ways. But never had she thought her soulmate would manage to get seaweed on one of her favorite books.

Read on AO3

She matured early, according to her parents.

Since Annabeth was 8, she hated the idea of “soulmates”. Why does she have to spend her life with someone? Why does she have to fall in love with someone? And why isn’t it her choice?

Of course, her parents tried explaining it to her, ( “It is your choice. The soulmate idea is like… telling the future.”) but she wouldn’t have any of it.

Unfortunately or fortunately, the fateful 10th birthday of Annabeth’s rolled around. Most people would wake up on their 10th birthday, immediately looking at the inside of their dominant hand wrist. Annabeth on the other hand avoided even letting that side of her right hand in her line of sight until her dad came back from work right before dinner.

Both her parents and her 8yo brother, Malcolm, were fed up with Annabeth delaying to look at the words her soulmate will tell her. Rolling her eyes at this, she turned her wrist over, “‘ You’re more worried about your book rather than yourself? ’” She recited the words slowly to herself, the bold cursive writing, murder on her dyslexic eyes. “‘ You’re more worried about your book rather than yourself?’ ” She spoke more clearly, looking up at her family around the dining table. “That’s what it says.”

Athena let a teasing smile across her face as Annabeth’s father and brother burst out in laughter. “Fitting. Very, very fitting.” Annabeth scowled at her mom, “Be quiet.” she grumbled. Stabbing her fork in her noodles she took a bite, stuffing her face with food.

->->->->->

She’s in middle school, and maybe she’s stopped absolutely loathing the soulmate idea. Not that she’s 100% ok with Fate deciding her relationship or anything. But maybe she didn’t hate it.

Plus, the 8th-grade halls are (oddly enough) filled with people asking each other out, and then arguing over the fact that “YOU’RE NOT MY SOULMATE.”

Apart from that, at least Annabeth has friends now. (Read: Piper, Frank, Hazel, and Reyna.) And thank whatever god is up there, her friends aren’t the annoying 8th graders fighting over soulmates in the hallways.

She’s happy and content. Apart from the assload of homework she gets, content. Content with her family, her friends, her classmates, and teachers-

(Ok maybe she wants to stab that “Caleb” guy in the eye with a very sharp pencil if he says anything about Annabeth being “a dumb blond” one more time. And her Science teacher. If he says “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell” one more goddamned time-)

->->->->->

Annabeth unlocked the door to her house, wincing a little in reaction to the yelling between her parents from the inside. She shook her head, stepping inside, praying that her parents aren’t near the stairs so she wouldn’t have to face that. God must have decided to be nice to the blond-haired girl, because her parents were arguing in the living room, and couldn’t even see the staircase from there.

No. It’s not out of the ordinary for her parents to fight. They’ve been doing it almost every day now. However, Annabeth hasn’t been able to understand why they fight. But they do and it bothers her. Let a girl and her brother in high school get some rest, would you?

About an hour later, she was typing up an essay that she completely forgot about, that's due the next day, when there was a loud sound from downstairs, the sound of someone running up the wooden staircase, and a frantic knock on her bedroom door. Confused and slightly concerned, she said, “Come in!”

As the door opened, Annabeth pushed her chair back across the wooden floor, cringing at the sound. “Malcolm?” Annabeth stood up as her brother shut and locked the bedroom door behind him. “What happened?”

Malcolm rolled his eyes, sitting down gingerly on Annabeth’s (for once unmade) bed. “I went downstairs to ask mom a question about homework, started talking before getting down the stairs, and she threw a plate- I wouldn’t say at me but pretty much at me.”

Annabeth raised her eyebrows in shock. “That's- that’s new,” she muttered under her breath.

Her brother scoffed, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Annabeth chuckled with no humor, saving her word document before sitting down next to the blonde-haired boy. “You ok though?”

Malcolm rolled his eyes fondly, “Yeah I’m fine, Beth.”

“Good.” A beat of silence passed between them before, “You could’ve just asked me for help instead of going to mom.”

He pondered this, “I guess.”

Annabeth chuckled, flopping down back on her bed, covering her eyes with her arm, “I’m tired.”

Malcolm fell into an almost imitated position, staring up at the ceiling, “Of what?”

Annabeth sighed, “Everything. It’s so stressful. Homework, essays, finals coming up, college applications, our parents fighting practically 24-by-7. It’s just too much-” Her voice cracked and she silenced herself.

“Yeah, I get it. Ninth isn’t much easier. Oh god, I forgot to tell you. Remember Calissa? From middle school?”

Annabeth nodded, “Mhm. The middle school ‘Bitch Girl.’ Why?”

“She asked me out today.”

Annabeth took her arm off her eyes and sat up looking at her brother with an unreadable expression. “ What?”

“Whoa, whoa Annie. Don’t go all “protective older sister” on me. I’m 15, I can handle this stuff myself .” Malcolm sat up as well. “I told her I’d think about it.”

Annabeth raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms at her chest, “You’d think about it? Malcolm this is the same girl who bullied 75% of your middle school. Including you. Are you-”

“Beth. Breathe. I’ll say no. I just said that at the moment.”

Annabeth scoffed, getting up from the bed and walking to her desk. “You better say no.” Malcolm hummed in response, getting up from the bed and leaving the room.

The sound of a ceramic cup breaking made Annabeth flinch (don’t ask how she knows what it was. She’s a little clumsy ok?). She bit her lip, turning to face the half-closed door, “Malcolm?”

“Yeah?” her brother’s muffled voice answered.

“Work in my room.”

->->->->->

Annabeth loved reading at the beach. The light wind messing up her hair, the random, delicate spray of water refreshing her; it was calming, relaxing, soothing...As long as she was a solid 30 feet away from the surfers.

Yet today was a different day, for Annabeth had actually come down to the beach with her brother and Calissa. Turns out, Malcolm ended up saying yes to go out with Calissa because he hasn’t “actually dated anybody.” So great.

To get her mind off things, she had decided to bring a book down to the beach like she always did. Picking up “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” for the 7th time in her life, she opened the book to where she left off.

She was engrossed in her book when she heard the loud splash before she felt the water. Gasping, she stood up, facing a boy only slightly taller than her, maybe the same age. He had raven hair, which was splattered across his face from the ocean water. His eyes were a startling sea green color. Annabeth, with all the people she knew, had never come across someone with that color of green eyes.

Shaking her head slightly to get the seaweed out of her hair (and maybe that slight trance the guy in front of her left her in.) Picking up her book from the ground where it fell she winced, “What the hell!? You got seaweed on my book, damn it.”

She saw the guy in front of her rolling his eyes. “You care more about your book than yourself?”

Annabeth froze. She’s heard the 8 words multiple times in a teasing voice from her brother and her friends. She’s replayed the time she’d meet her soulmate in her head multiple times in multiple different ways. But never had she thought her soulmate would manage to get seaweed on one of her favorite books.

“Well shit.” She heard from in front of her.

Laughing humorlessly she ran her hand through her hair, “yeah shit.”

“Annie!” Annabeth looked over to her right, seeing her brother and Calissa walking over to them. “Found your soulmate?”

“Malcolm. Were you spying on me? You’re on a date, aren’t you?”

“We got bored.”

The raven-haired boy in front of her chuckled. “Annie.?”

“It’s a nickname.” She snapped. “That I will not allow you to call me.” Annabeth sighed, putting her hand out in front of her. “Annabeth Chase.”

The guy smiled, slipping his hand in Annabeth’s. “Percy Jackson.” Percy Jackson. Jackson. She recognized the name. Percy must’ve read her expression, for he laughed and said, “Yes, Sally Jackson’s son.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened, “Oh my god, her writing is beautiful. Her characters are so well written. The way she carries the series, oh my god it’s incredible!”

Percy laughed. From beside Annabeth, Malcolm gave Percy a look, “She's a little obsessed with Sally Jackson’s books.”

“A little?” Percy asked, teasing.

Annabeth glared at him, “Whatever.” My soulmate is Sally Jackson’s son. Oh my god.

Percy cleared his throat, “Uh. Sorry about the seaweed and everything. I lost control for a bit.”

Annabeth hummed absent-mindedly, wrinkling her nose in annoyance at the realization that her book was covered in saltwater and seaweed and she probably won't be able to save it. “Well, one of my favorite books is now soaked but I guess I’ll forgive you.” She then added, “But only because you're the son of one of my favorite authors.”

Percy laughed lightly, “Not surprising. All my friends love my mom more than me.” Percy reached his hand out and brushed off a piece of seaweed from Annabeth’s hair. Suddenly, it seemed like she forgot how to breathe. Annabeth saw Percy’s eyes search her face, his hand delicately resting on her cheek.

Too soon, Percy pulled back, and Annabeth wasn't sure why that bothered her. He glanced at the setting sun, “I should get going before my mom gets worried.”

Annabeth blinked, “Uh yeah, yeah ok.”

Percy smiled, turning, grabbing his surfboard from the ground, and yelled to some people in the distance, “Hey, Thalia! Jace, Neeks, we gotta go.”

“Don't call me that, Jackson!”

Annabeth smiled. “Hey, uh, Percy?”

Percy looked back at her, a smile still on his face, “Yeah?”

“Could I- Could I have your number?” Wincing, as she worried she might’ve stepped over a line.

Percy’s smile only grew, “Of course.”

->->->->->

She was happy. More than happy. In the past two years, a lot happened.

A few weeks after the beach incident, Annabeth had called Percy, asking to go out on a date, because, “we’re soulmates anyway, might as well.” He agreed. 2 weeks and 4 dates later, they had their first kiss. Under a street light that was already dying out, with a leaf or two, landing on Annabeth’s head, which Percy teased her about for weeks. ( “It was just a leaf Annabeth.” “We were kissing. Can you blame me for getting startled?” “No one’s blaming you. I’m just teasing you, Wise Girl.” “Yeah, I can tell, Seaweed Brain.” )

Oh and the nicknames. They’re stupid because they’re cliché. ( “But clichés are only clichés because they work, sweetie.” “Sure, Mrs. Jackson.” “Sally.” )

And Percy’s mother is a gem, and so is his half-sister, Estelle Blofis. Apparently, Percy’s parents are divorced, and Percy’s mother remarried, to an English teacher, Paul Blofis. Percy’s friends are great too. Thalia, Nico, and Annabeth immediately hit it off. Percy met Annabeth’s friends as well, at some point, and she found it cute how nervous he was.

Also, she got accepted to Queens College. And better yet, so did her boyfriend.

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

Thanks for reading!!

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aliveanddrunkonsunlight · 4 years ago

Photo

my heart talks of nothing but you - 1920s fic

October, King’s Landing, 1920

Fall in the city has been unseasonably warm. At the train station, people bustle past, sweltering under the station’s glass roof like plants wilting in a conservatory. Jaime stands and waits for the 11:40 train from Sunspear. He is early, and the wait is long enough the heat gets to him, sweat beading under his collar, so he leans his cane against the brick wall behind him and takes off his jacket, laying it neatly across the handle of the luggage cart. Perhaps the Westerlands will provide the chill in the air he’s been craving, as they will be getting out of the city soon enough. He tugs down his waistcoat and, to further combat the heat, rolls up his sleeves. Several women departing from another train give him furtive glances as they pass by. Jaime nods politely to a few of them.

The train chugs into the station right on time, but the people stepping out from the cars blur together in his line of vision, as he is concentrated on spotting one blonde, tall head. Brienne. After months away, she looks different, but he cannot put his finger on what it is about her that has changed, and it hardly matters, for his heart clenches in his chest all the same.

She is dressed in a white shirt and wide-leg trousers. If her clothes did not already put her in contrast to the other women disembarking, her height would. His eyes fall to the long line of her legs and Jaime is so caught up in adoration, he almost overlooks her companion, a mustachioed man with black hair, dressed in a fine suit with a yellow waistcoat embroidered with suns. The man appears too flashy and debonair for Brienne to fall into casual acquaintance with on the train journey, so he assumes it is someone she knows from Dorne.

The pair have drawn closer to where he stands, but Brienne still has not noticed him, so he calls out, “Miss Tarth.” Her first semester of university, Jaime was the teacher’s assistant in her history lecture, and teased her by always using her title, despite her insistence to call her by her given name.

Her head snaps around at the sound of his voice, her face breaking into a smile when she realizes who it is. “Jaime!” she cries out in delight, suddenly in his arms. He laughs against her neck, tempted to lift her feet off the ground, but the familiar twinge in his leg cautions him against it. “What are you doing here? I thought I wasn’t seeing you until this evening.”

Tonight, the university’s history department is holding a small reception and Jaime asked her to accompany him.

“I thought you might be in want of a kind gentleman to assist you with your luggage.” She holds up a worn leather satchel that looks more suitable for a weekend excursion. Jaime gapes. “That’s all you took? I know the Dornish are quite progressive, but I assume you wore clothes.” Brienne studied archaeology and spent the past four months in Dorne on an excavation. One day, he has no doubt, she’ll be head of a museum somewhere.

“Jaime.” she says warningly, but her blue eyes sparkle with amusement. Brienne glances back and notices her companion from the train waiting. “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry, Mr. Martell. What you must think of my manners.”

“It’s quite alright.” He passes off a suitcase, embossed with Brienne’s initials, to Jaime.

“Jaime, this is Mr. Oberyn Martell. He has expertise in art history, particularly ceramics, and was an unending font of knowledge during the dig. Mr. Martell, this is Captain Jaime Lannister, one of my friends from university.”

“Friends?” Martell’s eyebrows raise. “I thought perhaps professor.” Jaime chooses to ignore the slight on his age or appearance--perhaps both--and shakes the man’s hand.

“He will be one day,” Brienne interjects politely. Whenever she brags about his work to others, he wishes he was someone who blushed because it seems the only appropriate response to the way that hearing her speak about him makes him feel. “He’s starting his graduate studies in history.”

Martell’s sly but amused smile makes Jaime’s hackles rise, but he can hear his father’s voice in his ear reminding him of his manners. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you visiting someone in the city?”

“Friends, as you say.” His eyes dart between the two of them. “At the university.”

Neither expand on Martell’s meeting, but knowing Brienne, he expects it has to do with her noble view on stolen objects. During many of the past wars, art and other artifacts had been looted from other provinces or populations, such as the Dornish or various groups throughout Essos and ended up in museums in Westeros. She believes archaeologists and other historians have a duty to return these objects to the place of their origin. The first time Jaime had seen her go off on a spiel about it, he had been awed and delighted by the depth of her knowledge, her sound reasoning and argument, and her righteous indignation.

Outside of the station, they part ways with Martell. The man clasps Brienne’s hand in his own. “It has been an honor, Miss Tarth. You are more of a treasure than the ones you dig up.” Jaime has to prevent himself from rolling his eyes. “And you are more than welcome in Dorne anytime.” His silky smooth voice dips low and he drops his head, kissing her hand before rising, eyes lingering on Brienne a bit too long before he is gone in a flash of yellow.

“Was he that dramatic all summer?” he asks under his breath, earning an elbow in the ribs from Brienne. Her cheeks are flushed; he hopes from the heat and not because that onerous man had flattered her.

“Some might say you have a flair for the dramatic.” She turns to look at him, squinting against the sun, but the light makes her blonde eyelashes look quite pretty. “I am so tired of the sun,” Brienne sighs as he waves down a cab. “The only protection against it was to swathe myself in layers. I looked like some spirit haunting the dig.”

Jaime chuckles, opening the car door for her. As she takes his hand to step inside, he notices the top button of her blouse is undone, revealing a small taste of the pale skin underneath, delicately beaded with sweat. He swallows, shutting the door behind her and trying to rid himself of the image.

After giving the driver her address, he leans back against the seat. “But you enjoyed your time there? It was everything you imagined?”

Brienne smiles, almost to herself, before turning towards him. “It was. I’ll save my stories for this evening, though, otherwise you’ll be hearing me repeat them all night.”

Selfishly, he wants to hear them first because he’s missed her. “Did you get my postcards?” He had sent her a series of postcards he collected from various museums around the city, each featuring an object of some importance, and scratched out the names on the back so she would have to guess the object and museum.

“Yes.” Her whole face lights up, brighter than any summer sun, and she launches into a story about how she figured out a particularly tricky one.

“I am quite glad you’re back, darling girl.” Brienne scrunches up her nose a little at the name. He used to call her that, too. The first time he said it, he meant it as a comment about his age and experience in the world he had on her, but she had reacted to it with such irritation, he began using it to needle her. “The city wasn’t the same without you. It felt as if you’d been wrenched from my life.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but there’s a smile she can’t quite keep tucked away. “Like I said, dramatic.” Yet, she looks quite pleased.

#future unnamed 1920s fic #now it has a name #work in progress wednesday #fic: my heart talks of nothing but you #jaime x brienne

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onelastbreath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

On Bruce And Texting:

Author’s Note: Hello and welcome, this is my first properly written fic, originally posted to my AO3, and now that I have finally created a writing blog, it’s here as well. Please enjoy!! AO3. Masterlist

Warnings: Hopefully none, its all cute and fluff <3

Summary: Bruce Wayne texts like he's sending correspondences to the Queen, so of course the little monsters he calls children just have to make fun of him! Brats, the lot of them, but he wouldn't have them any other way.

Features: Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle, all the bats and birds, mentions JL, no crime fighting, only family fluff, jokes and nods to Millennial and GenZ shenanigans.

Word Count: 2.7k

---

Billionaire, genius, tech expert, father of many children, and all around up-to-date-with-just-about-everything type of person he may be, it is also a well-known Fact that Bruce Wayne, the Batman(TM) himself, can’t text to save his life.

Whether it’s due to his Very Proper English Upbringing, his inability to be informal via written correspondences of any type, his indifference, or the fact that it bothers his children so much, Bruce Wayne has not and never will text with anything less than perfect grammar, spelling, and formality. If he has not sent you a proper letter (featuring a dedication, indentation for every paragraph, signature, and post-script when applicable), he did, in fact, not send you that text. Informality is not his Batman Way(TM) according to his children... he’s not too sure what that even means, but it makes his young ones laugh so it’s probably fine?

His oldest children (Richard and Jason) were raised in the time of Change, where computers, internet access, social media, and all things similar were only just being introduced into households en-masse. They were young enough to remember a time without such devices and connectivity (both for very different reasons, of course, but they grew up without the newest technology none-the-less). They could understand his relationship to the digital environment more so than his younger children, but they still tended to poke fun at his ‘texting blunders’ regularly. All his kids somehow ended up as brats. He doesn’t know how this happened. It’s certainly not his fault. He blames the League members, and especially Clark Kent, for their defiant personalities.

His younger children, whom he loves dearly, like to confuse him as much as they possibly can with their slang, egregious spelling errors, and all-around ‘internet humour’. He doesn’t know what ‘wig’ or ‘worm’ or ‘oof’ or anything means. He has no idea what those dances are, or how they relate to the music that seems to always accompany them, and for the love of all that is good, don’t ask him what he thinks of this or that ‘meme’. What even is a ‘meme’, and should he be more concerned about his kids being obsessed with them? He tries, oh my god, does he try to follow the children’s conversations, but they somehow all learned a language he has no idea how to decrypt. His best response to them once they start speaking in tongues is as follows: smile but not too much, listen to child even though he is deeply confused, and pat child on head or shoulder when they are finished and are looking for assurance.

He refuses to be a parent who ignores or tunes out his children, so he always makes sure to put down his work, his crossword, his tools, or whatever else is in his hands when a child searches him out for a conversation. But somehow, despite all the time he spends around them and their strange words, when he gets text from them comprised of abbreviations, acronyms, and completely random words, he goes a little cross eyed. He would never tell anyone, but he keeps a running list on his phone about the things they say that he has had to translate in the past. Spilling tea? Speaking the truth, usually to do with gossip. Wow? Multiple possible meanings: either a video game, or someone saying it (different pronunciation depending on context and who sent the text). Stickbug? A nice little prank with no ulterior motives, just for fun. Something along the lines of “this basic bitch Karen at the grocery store who is a dirty rat-licker and is def an anti-vaxxer just took 45 (forty-five) minutes to decide she didn’t actually want that almond milk. I Stan the cashier who had to put up with her. Rad af dude.” roughly translates to “A rude, middle-aged white woman who wasn’t wearing a mask and doesn’t believe in disease control or vaccinating her children wasted a great deal of an essential worker’s time in the checkout line. The cashier was very professional in their dealings with said customer and should be commended on their actions.”

Given enough time, the internet for searching up new slang words, and occasionally some help from a friend (Alfred, Selina, Lucius, another of his children, etc), Bruce could decode and respond appropriately to most texts. He was quite proud of these achievements, and although he didn’t always like how often his children were on their phones or computers or gaming systems, he was quite proud of how integrated and easily they adapted to the ever-evolving world of electronics. All his kids were gifted in many ways, but their ability to learn, their hunger for knowledge, and their perseverance when exploring new and challenging ideas were always the things that he was most impressed by.

He could do without their comments though. Yes, surprisingly, he did manage to get girlfriends with his type of texting. No, he doesn’t miss the ‘good old days’ when telegraphs were the main form of long-distance correspondence (how old do these brats think he is?!). And yes, he does know what a “tweet” is, and how to “post” on his social media accounts, and what “sliding into your DMs” is (thanks to a frantic search after a WE employee mentioned it near him). The Wayne children, truly whom and what Bruce considers his pride and joy, are cruel little jerks to him sometimes. His hoard of parenting books fails to mention what one should do when their children gang up on them. Bullying is covered of course, but he can’t really talk to a teacher or his guardian about how his second son calls him an idiot sandwich, or that his third son regularly tries to get him to do something “For The Vine”. His oldest and youngest boys are only slightly better in the bullying him department; Richard and his puppy dog eyes when he wants to do something dangerous or not-Alfred-approved, and Damian and his growing collection of pets because “Mother never let me have them, and I am deprived, and don’t you love me Father?”.

His only good child is his beautiful daughter Cassandra, the flower of the Wayne clan. She gives him hugs, and pats his hands, and can sit with him and just enjoy the quiet and stillness when his other children are not around. Her language skills are improving by leaps and bounds every day, and her heart and spirit are unparalleled, but her main method of communication is in her movements. Her hands, her posture, her dancing; Bruce couldn’t think of a more graceful, fluid, powerful person if the world depended on it. His amazing little girl doesn't bully him (and if she ever does, he probably deserves it, he trusts her), so he turns to her most of all when it comes to communicating with someone else. She doesn’t let him send anything that is “sketchy” or “wrong words, bad meaning, Dad”. He would give the world to his children, but for Cassandra, he would destroy it and build her an entirely new one.

Social media, especially with his terrible children all having accounts dedicated to making him look like a simpleton, was another rocky terrain he had to navigate on the regular. He had professionals in place at WE to run the company’s many accounts, paid top dollar to help appeal and relate to the masses, but he mostly had to manage his personal accounts himself. And so, @TheRealBruceWayne was one of the greatest struggles in his adult life. Why can’t he just retweet every post from @WE_Offical and leave it at that? People should only want to know about what’s new with the company. What do you mean they want to know more about our family and private lives? That’s unnecessary, and not important to the running of the company, right? Right? Why are you laughing?!

Luckily, most people in his life aren’t so intimately aware of his struggles. He can act and lie all he wants about being “hip” and “woke” and whatever else the kids are saying these days when he’s with the JL or in board meeting intermissions, networking with his associates. The Batman knows all and sees all, Green Lantern, of course he understands how “Tiktok” works. The Batman is a robot without a funny bone in his body, Green Arrow, but I did witness him sigh and say “same” when he knocked his cup of coffee over while on monitor duty once. No matter how badly his darling children call him out, the Justice League would be so much worse. So, it’s one of his most importantly guarded secrets... even more so than his secret identity at this point. Being unmasked in front of every Gotham rogue would be less detrimental to him than his “friends” learning of his utter ineptitude in staying on top of the younger generations’ lingo.

When questioned why the League doesn’t have a group chat or a forum or anything that they can use to contact each other outside of world ending matters and communicator (”because we’re friends, Batman! Ma and Pa Kent would love to have everyone over for a barbecue!”), the person who dared even mention texting isn’t even given a verbal response. They are just glared at, silently, often for several uninterrupted minutes, frozen in place only able to breathe shallowly in fear of setting off the Bat. “You know why” his glare says, “I’ll eat you, your family, and everything you have ever held dear” the younger members hear. No one makes the mistake of asking about it twice.

Outside of his children and Alfred, and his small circle of true friends involved in all aspects of his life, there is only one more person Bruce allows to know of his Darkest Secret. Selina. Someone most people would recommend he not be involved with. Catwoman: accomplished thief, distraction, chaos-incarnate most nights, and his significant other. Sharp as a whip (ha) and crafty like no one’s business; he is head-over-heels. On again/Off again and all over the place their long romance has been, but no one has ever challenged him, intrigued him, like this clever, beautiful, amazing woman has. He’s brought his partners around his children before, both for their judgement, and for their worst behaviours to vet out any “unworthy” suitors. He trusts them explicitly to tell him the truth about those he allows into the manor; were they rude about Bruce wanting to have group outings, did they say something about Bruce’s money, did they get angry or shout or make anyone uncomfortable while they were here? If his children even looked slightly unhappy with someone he brought them to meet, that person would not be invited back. Children, he finds, have the best sight when meeting people; no motives other than finding safety and love, no fear of consequences from speaking honestly...

Selina, or Catwoman, as they had known her first, was someone all of his kids liked without issue right off the bat. She would make puns and play word games with Richard, his first Robin, tiny, still working on his English, able to connect with him over their acrobatic abilities. His second Robin, Jason, skittish and feisty as an alley cat, knew of Catwoman and her daring escapades long before Bruce found him. The young boy had a few heroes, and no one (not even Wonder Woman) could compare to the incredible burglar who bought food and jackets and medicine for the street kids in Crime Alley. She was saintly in his eyes, and to this day, Bruce was still working on convincing Jason he was good enough for Selina. Tim and Cass and Stephanie (basically another daughter to Bruce, she spends so much time with the family) all joined the Wayne clan around the same time and officially met Selina as a friend and partner of his, and in the good graces of his first two sons. Selina, in all her nightly business, and many travels and acquaintances, had met the three independently, helping Tim get home safely back to Drake Manor when he escaped to photograph Batman and Robin in the dank darkness of Gotham when he was just a young boy, spending some time with Cassandra when her despicable father left her alone long enough to recover from his rough treatment, showing her the first scraps of kindness in her short life, and watching over and protecting Stephanie as she followed and sabotaged her father Cluemaster and his criminal activities. There was no need to win them over once they met her civilian identity, she had already gained their favour and acceptance, and they were happy to have her near their new family. Damian, his youngest, his biological son, took the longest to warm up to Selina. He would never fault his little boy for fighting so hard against a woman that was not his birth mother, especially after all the manipulation and cruelty dealt to him by Talia for the first decade of his life. But as he began to learn about his father, these people in his father’s life, and this woman that was Not His Mother but “still okay, I guess”, he grew to see her as acceptable. Her cats definitely helped, he’d say, no one with cats that loyal and happy can be a bad person.

Selina, the love of his life, he’d admit quietly to himself, was also a dirty traitor and in cahoots with his terrible children. She would say his texting skills were “sweet” and “very gentlemanly” when she was asked by anyone outside the family, and privately to him she would say she thought they were “adorable” and “please don’t ever change, Bruce, I like it.” However, nothing seemed to bring her more joy than his children sending her texts and “Snaps” and “memes” about him to her. Sometimes it was screenshots of the family group chat that they forced him to join, where he would post “To whom it may concern...” and “In regards to...” when he needed to reach all his delinquents in a timely manner. Sometimes it was video clips of him staring at his phone intently, then typing something on his laptop, then him reading and nodding along, and then finally going back and responding to the text he received with a small, pleased smile. And sometimes, when he got too injured or was too incapacitated to text coherently, he’d have his nearest able child transcribe his text to her. Depending on who was texting her for Bruce, she could expect many different things. From Dick, she’d get lots of shorthand and silly emojis, and many, many, winky and crying/laughing faces in brackets depending on what Bruce had made him type. Jason, bless him, used proper English most of the time, but would never write a single word of Bruce’s soliloquy to her, instead she enjoyed the TL;DR version: “hurt again, missing you, come home soon, blah blah blah, sappy gross words here, love you”. Tim would allow speech recognition to run on Bruce’s phone, and just let it go until the man passed out. Stephanie, the little chaos child, would film it and send it to her, including all her muffled laughter and shaky camera shots of Bruce emoting with his available undamaged limbs. Cass, still more versed in physicality and emotive movement, would interpret Bruce’s text into mostly emojis, hearts and happy faces and animals, but would include photos, and phrases that she found important enough to type out for Selina. Damian, forever his Father’s son in any way possible, texts very formally, referring to her or his siblings Bruce mentions by last name only, and lots of “Father requests me to tell you...” and “Kyle, know that Father...”. She adores these kids, and once Bruce recovers enough to text her himself, or she gets back to the Manor, they get to laugh about whatever she was sent this time.

So, while it’s true that Bruce couldn’t text his way out of a wet paper bag, and his kids are sometimes brats about it, there’s probably a lot of different reasons he doesn’t spend too much time trying to improve his skills. Whether it’s the smiles of his children, the giggles of his significant other, or the warm feeling in his chest when he sees all his important people bonding over him, well, in the end, who’s to say?

#batman #batfam #bruce/selina #batcat #bruce wayne #selina kyle #bruce x selina

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