#I am an ostrich in the sand

[therealvalkyrie]

I’m so unnormal rn it’s not even real

[propertyline]

not me getting antsy about the fact that the book i preordered from the other side of the world is still being processed a week before the release date. anyway something bad is happening to me rn

[somanypolls]

i did my best to include lots of birds. sorry if i missed your favorite or miscategorized it! i am no bird expert

[missmaniac25]

Ateez Scenarios - Realising you're in love with your best friend

OK these are super short but I just... yeah anyways! Each member's piece is between 300 and 400 words (basically just drabbles)

The tl:dr: (they make more sense in context) Hongjoong: hearing your favourite song Seonghwa: laughing so hard it hurts Yunho: having his missing hoodie Yeosang: he remembers things about you San: makes you a personal gift Mingi: driving home late at night Wooyoung: you associate him with an adrenaline rush Jongho: sleeping in for 5 more minutes

~

Hongjoong:

Late night snack runs were your favourite menial thing to do with Hongjoong. It was partly the fact that you both could be extremely chaotic the longer you were without sleep but it was also one of the few times when it was just the two of you.

You ducked behind the chips just as Hongjoong’s head popped up on the other side of the aisle. You stifled your giggles behind your hand before sneaking down the row, making your way around to him.

“Yah!” He yelled when you appeared next to him, his hands raised like he was ready to fight. “Where did you even come from!?”

“I’m everywhere… like a ghost.”

The pair of you break out into giggles before moving on to find more food. While on your trek, something catches your attention: a song has started to crackle through the speaker of the shop. The second you know what song it is, your gaze shoots to Hongjoong, only to find him already looking at you with a wide grin on his face.

“This is our song,” he happily tells you.

“Hell yeah it is!”

The song that made you two become friends. The song that you both know all the words too. The song that every time you hear it, you think of him.

The next three minutes are spent taking turns singing as wildly and as purposefully over the top as you can, while the poor cashier looks on in dismay. It doesn’t matter if anyone else sees – life is too short to worry about it anyways.

As the song ends and you catch your breath, you look to your friend again.

If every night could be like this, seeing the sparkle in his eye from happiness, you’d sell everything you have to make it so. These nights, nights with Hongjoong, were the moments you lived for.

~

Seonghwa:

“I can’t breathe!”

Who even knows what you were laughing at in the first place. It doesn’t matter; the more Seonghwa laughs, the further into hysterics you fall.

The other patrons of the restaurant are eyeing the pair of you as you continue to cause a ruckus.

Seonghwa has his head on his arms, lying on the table, looking somewhat like an ostrich with its head in the sand. That realisation causes you to laugh more. And as you laugh, you see Seonghwa’s shoulder shake; he’s trying so hard to contain himself and failing so spectacularly.

Finally, he looks up at you, tears in his eyes but a smile on his face.

“You’re impossible,” he manages to say in between catching his breath.

It takes a few more minutes before you’ve calmed down enough to resume a normal conversation.

“Ow,” you sigh. “My abs hurt.”

“Do you even have abs?” Seonghwa wipes his cheeks dry one last time.

“Rude much. I might have abs. After that I probably do.”

Your best friend smiles at you – he’s so pretty, always has been. Even his laughter is pretty, and even though you’ve heard it for the past five minutes, you’d do anything to hear it again. It’s like a song you’d have on repeat for the rest of your life if you could.

“You alright?” Seonghwa asks.

“Yeah.” You shuffle a little in your seat. “Just… thinking how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

“Oh.” His cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your words. “Thank you.”

His eyes are wide but full of affection for you. They almost shine.

“You aren’t going to say it back?” you joke, making him groan. “I pour my heart out to you and you can’t even return the favour!”

The smile returns to Seonghwa’s face and you feel the laughter bubbling inside of you again. Try as you might to hold it in, a giggle escapes you.

It doesn’t take long for you both to end up back the way you started – who even cares why you started laughing in the first place?

~

Yunho:

“You really have too many clothes.”

A soft ‘oof’ is heard as you throw another jersey at Yunho, more specifically his face.

“That’s why I’m trying to get rid of some of them, you nugget!”

Yunho just smiles as he sits on your bed, the lighthouse in the sea of garments that surround him.

“You didn’t have to come over today,” you chastise him. “But you chose to.”

He just laughs as more items are thrown his way.

Your cupboard is eventually empty and the sorting process can finally begin. It’s a relatively painless ordeal, tossing what you don’t want on the floor and what you do want back at your best friend, who gives his two cents when you aren’t sure if something is worth holding onto anymore or not.

“I don’t even remember buying this.” You hold up an extremely oversized hoodie. “Weird but I’m still keeping it.”

As it lands in Yunho’s lap, he’s quick to pick it up and give it a once over.

“This is mine!” He says, drawing your attention to him. “Why do you have it?”

“It’s yours?” The confusion is clear in your voice.

“Yes! Did you steal this?” Yunho laughs. “I thought I’d lost it ages ago.”

There’s a pause as you stare at each other, neither having the answer.

‘Well, if you really want it back, you can take it.” You shrug.

Yunho fiddles with the hoodie, feeling the material under his fingers before he shakes his head.

“You can keep it.”

It starts a back and forth of ‘are you sure’, ‘yes I’m sure’, ‘are you super sure?’ until your best friend can’t take it anymore, getting up and pulling the hoodie over your head.

You stand, looking at each other. Yunho smiles triumphantly and for some reason you feel butterflies in your stomach.

‘That’s never happened before,’ you muse to yourself.

“Will you just take the damned hoodie?” It’s less of a question from Yunho and more of a command.

With a sigh of defeat, you put it on properly and get back to organising while Yunho finds his place on your bed again.

“Besides, it looks cute on you.” He says nonchalant and your stomach feels weird again.

‘Oh no, I’m falling for my best friend.’

~

Yeosang:

“Do we have to do this every time?”

“Yes, now hurry up!”

Somewhat reluctantly, Yeosang lets you take his hand and pull him through the shop until you reach your goal.

The shelves of scented candles call to you and you happily oblige, picking up the first one in front of you and giving it a sniff.

“Hmmm,” you hum in happiness, putting it back and picking up the next one.

Yeosang can only stand and watch in amusement. Every time the two of you go out, you end up here, and because he’s such a good friend, Yeosang will let you smell all the candles to your hearts content, even though he has no interest in it whatsoever.

“This one is so nice!” You hold it out to him.

He doesn’t sniff it but his eyes scan the label in record speed.

“Well, vanilla is one of your favourites and that one has vanilla in it.”

You turn the candle around only to see that he’s correct. But there’s something else you want to find out.

“You know my favourite scents?” you query, still cradling the item in your hands.

“At least when it comes to scented candles, yeah,” Yeosang says. “I do pay attention to you, you know, even when you’re rambling about… I don’t know, what smells nice and what doesn’t.”

Theres a second where your brain short-circuits: that’s so kind that he remembers the little things about you.

But then you remember that that’s his job as your best friend. Right?

“Well, now I feel bad cause I don’t know what you like!”

Yeosang just shrugs and starts telling you that it’s not important but stops as he finds a candle thrust under his nose.

The following fifteen minutes are spent figuring out Yeosang’s preferences. And you’re making damned sure you remember them because that’s what best friends do.

Right?

~

San:

San proudly places the shoe box on your kitchen counter. He’s tried to make it look pretty by sticking pictures of the two of you to the outside, along with random cut-outs of pictures from a magazine.

“Happy birthday!” He sing-songs, a smile taking over his whole face.

“A box?” You tease. “San, you shouldn’t have.”

His expression immediately changes to one of annoyance.

“I’ll take your present back if you’re going to be mean about it,” he says, reaching for it.

You manage to react faster and grab it closer to you.

“Nah uh!” You give San a pointed look. “My birthday present. Mine!”

You don’t miss how he smirks before settling on the barstool next to you. You also don’t miss how his demeanour shifts when you open the box. He seems nervous all of a sudden, wringing his hands as he leans forward.

With the shoebox now open, you find a plethora of white envelopes. Pulling the top one out, you see the outside has a nearly written ‘1’ on it.

“Um, let me explain it,” San buts in, opting to look at the box rather than you. “So, there’s fifty-two letters. One for every week of the year. Cause we don’t always get to see each other I thought it would be nice to still be with you somehow.”

The piles of envelopes start to look blurry as your eyes get teary. It must’ve taken a lot of effort. So much time spent on you.

“I know it’s not very grand or anything,” San tries to justify, still wringing his hands.

“It’s perfect,” you manage to say without your voice cracking. “Thank you.”

You fling your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He wastes no time hugging you back, his relief felt in his hold on you.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me,” you mumble into his shoulder.

San takes a deep breath.

“For you, I’d do so much more.”

His words bury themselves deep in your heart and you know they’ll stay there forever.

~

Mingi:

It’s an unofficial rule that the passenger side of Mingi’s car is reserved for you. Even tonight, when he offered to drop some of the others off before taking you home, the three other boys all squished into the backseat, leaving you to be comfortable up front.

The car pulls out of the last driveway and the journey to your home begins. Mingi passes you his phone and without even telling you, you open the music app and turn the volume down slightly.

“What you in the mood for?”

Mingi shrugs, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Maybe something soft.”

You quickly find a playlist you like and let the music play.

There's nothing the two of you need to say. You could, and have, spoken nonsense for hours on end but tonight, you know it’s not the time.

Instead, you turn your head to look at your best friend, the lights outside cast shadows over his face, shifting as you pass under each street light. It draws your attention to his nose, then his hair, his cheeks, his chin, his eyes, his lips…

‘Has Mingi always been this attractive?’

It’s a random thought but one that doesn’t go away easily.

“Is there something wrong with me?” Mingi softly laughs when he catches your staring. “This feels kind of like an interrogation.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you Mingi.” You don’t take your eyes off of him. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

The atmosphere in the car feels thick enough to cut with a knife. Pulling up to a red light, Mingi turns to look at you.

“I’m not perfect,” he says, and before you can argue he speaks again. “But you are.”

An eternity passes before the light changes to green and he’s forced to look away.

There's too much weight in his words for you to process right now. You just hope you can keep your sanity until Mingi gets you home.

~

Wooyoung:

Two taps. Two quick taps on your leg to let you know what’s about to happen. You hold on a little tighter to Wooyoung’s torso as he hits the gas and pulls off, speeding down the empty road.

Its not often that you ride with Wooyoung on his bike. He nags and nags for weeks on end until you relent and let him take you for a joyride. Its not that you don’t enjoy it – if anything you enjoy it a little too much. The adrenaline is addicting and experiencing it with your best friend… well, maybe the adrenaline also makes those lines a bit blurred.

Wooyoung steers his bike into a mostly car-less parking lot and switches off the engine before helping you climb down.

“That was a fun stretch.” Wooyoung pulls his helmet off and shakes his head, trying to make his hair look good again.

“At least we weren’t pulled over this time,” you tease after following his lead, tucking your helmet under your arm.

“That was once!” Wooyoung is fast to defend himself. “And it wasn’t cause I was speeding!”

You give him your best ‘if you say so’ face before dodging as he tries to playfully hit you on the arm.

“I won’t take you out riding anymore.”

It’s an empty threat – both of you know it – but for some reason the idea of Wooyoung doing that makes you feel hurt.

You shift a little bit on your feet and look away but Wooyoung notices the change immediately.

“Hey,” he calls as he gently taps your legs to get your attention.

Your heart thumps in your chest, the rush of emotion coming back to you.

“I’ll never leave you behind, ok?”

He smiles and blood rushes to your head.

“Ok.” You smile back and it eases Wooyoung’s worry.

He pushes his hair back before putting his helmet on; you do the same.

Two quick taps is all it takes to get your heart pumping, even when Wooyoung doesn’t take you out on the bike. Even when it’s just him.

~

Jongho:

The wind howled outside of the window, causing you to shudder where you lay. Despite being buried under about a hundred blankets, just the sound of the wind made you feel cold. Winter mornings were not fun.

There was a shuffling in the bed next to you as your best friend rolled over as he slept. Jongho could sleep through just about anything. He’d once slumbered through a raging thunder storm, only waking up because you’d essentially screamed in his ear when the power had suddenly gone off.

The room was still dark as you reached for your phone, the light from the screen momentarily blinding you.

08:34

With a hum you decide it’s better to get up and get the day going than to rot in bed. Slowly, you sit up straight, regretting it instantly as the cold air surrounds you.

“Where are you going?”

The sleepy voice causes you to jump in your own skin.

“Go back to dreamland,” you tell Jongho, bracing yourself to finally get out from under the covers.

You nearly succeed but a heavy arm drops over your legs and you quickly find yourself being pulled back into the warmth of the bed. It’s not worth fighting; Jongho has always been stronger than you.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, settling down once again, you now firmly in his grasp.

The heat from his body warms you up much faster than you thought it would. It could also be because you realise that despite sharing a bed with Jongho on many an occasion, you’ve ever been this close before.

The longer you lie with him, the calmer your heart becomes.

Five minutes turns into ten. Ten into twenty.

You don’t know how long you stay there, wrapped up in Jongho’s arms. But what you do know is that if given the choice, you’d stay there forever.

~

@eazycel dearest, here you go 😘

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Prologue

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Prologue: On the Precipice

Summary: In 2018, (Y/N) discovers grief as people turn to dust and the world turns to chaos.

Mouse Note: Welcome to Burden of Truth! Kind of a rough beginning, but, hey, how else do you become an Avatar to a god? Anyways, housekeeping: This is a platonic fic, so anyone who suggests anything inappropriate between an adult and minor will be blocked and deleted. That's pretty much it, but I wanted to make it clear. As for the actual fic, there aren't any warnings other than the violence that Marvel shows. I'm really excited to share this series! Please feel free to comment since I'm always up to answering questions and replying to comments. Plus it makes me keep writing. Without further ado, though, please enjoy!

2018…

            (Y/N) gasped for breath, but their lungs refused to bring in the air they needed. Every limb ached, and their heart beat against their chest. It stuttered, refusing to work correctly. The edges of (Y/N)’s visions blurred to black.

            Everything had gone wrong. They had thought this summer would be a beautiful one, traveling with their parents. Egypt was lovely, and (Y/N) liked to listen to their parents—anthropology and history professors—tell them about the rich history and culture of the country.

            Plus, they were far away from New York where strange aliens had recently attacked and fought Iron Man and a strange wizard. They were safe with their family and free to enjoy themself.

            And then people turned to dust.

            Screams echoed as loved ones disappeared before people’s very eyes. Cars crashed without drivers. Buses overturned and threw out people and sand. Cries went out as crashes sent metal through limbs—through torsos.

            Through (Y/N)’s torso.

            (Y/N) couldn’t even move to cover their chest as it bled. They didn’t try to. They knew they were dying. They didn’t want to (gods, please, no, I don’t want this I don’t want this) but they were.

            And they couldn’t even reach out to hold their mom and dad’s hands. (Y/N) felt like a child again, but unlike nightmares, they couldn’t run to their parents’ arms to feel safe. Even if they could, the chill of death had already taken their parents’ warmth and comfort.

            (Y/N) wished they’d all turned to dust. This was violent, painful, agonizing. Their parents had laid beside them in distress, calling out for help and rescue, dying. No one had come.

            And now (Y/N) was alone—the world hadn’t even been kind enough to let them die before their parents.

            This was just so wrong. Unfair. Unjust.

            “It is unjust.” A calm voice spoke.

            (Y/N) didn’t move. They couldn’t, and they were already dying. Their situation couldn’t get worse.

            “I can feel your pain.”

            This time, a woman, taller than humanely possible, appeared in their line of sight. She knelt among the dust and bodies of the bus and gazed at (Y/N).

            She was Egyptian, dressed in a red gown, and wore an intricate necklace of gold and turquoise. Multicolored Sleeves swept out with her arms like wings. Silky black hair fell around her shoulders, and her eyes were lined in kohl. An ostrich feather stood in a circlet and swayed in the wind.

            (Y/N)’s eyes landed on the feather, and something in their chest pulled towards it.

            The woman tilted her head and watched them in assessment. “You sense the truth.”

            “Who…” (Y/N)’s hoarse voice died.

            “I am the goddess Ma’at.” The wind whipped around her as she spoke. “I am in search of a guardian. To uphold justice in the face of wrongdoing. To protect harmony from discord. To defend truth from falsehood.”

            (Y/N) coughed, and Ma’at tilted her head.

            “I can see the truth in your heart. You want justice for everyone who suffers like you,” said Ma’at. She leaned in. “Pledge yourself to me, pledge yourself to the truth, and I will give you the life to do so.”

            (Y/N) looked into Ma’at’s eyes and summoned all their strength left.

            “Yes.”

l

2023…

            (Y/N) crouched on the roof and dropped onto the balcony below them. The house around them was quiet. The security guards were clueless to their approach, which was just fine. They didn’t want any attention.

            (Y/N) opened the sliding door of the balcony and slipped into the display room. They glanced around themself in distaste. None of the artifacts in glass cases belonged to the owner of this house. He’d “acquired” them in the aftermath of the Blip left countries in disarray, just so like many others.

            After the return of the Blipped, the problem of stolen artifacts had only gotten worse since the chaos had begun again, letting more people profit off the displaced people and their possessions.

            (Y/N) had spent years repatriating the stolen relics from the aftermath of the Blip. This man, Mr. Medrano, was among the worst offenders. He lied about his findings as an “archaeologist” and stole what he needed for glory. And along the way, he removed any competition. A thief, a liar, and a killer. Medrano was a man who brought injustice of all kinds to the world.

            And that was precisely what (Y/N) stood against—what Ma’at stood against.

            (Y/N) stopped in front of a case of Egyptian artifacts. Their eyes scanned the contents for the relic they were supposed to bring back to Egypt (send back, really, by way of another person. (Y/N) was still just a teenager, so they couldn’t send it back themself without raising suspicions. Luckily, putting something in a hidden box and not showing their face did the trick).

            (Y/N) frowned. The hieroglyphic tablet of Tethering wasn’t on the wall. It seemed they were later than expected, and Medrano had begun to work on translation.

            Which means it’ll be in his office.

            (Y/N) went to the door of the display room and peeked outside. No light, no movement. They moved into the hall and crept down towards the room at the other side of the house. Making sure their gloves were on—no sense leaving fingerprints—(Y/N) reached out and felt the door handle.

            The door was unlocked.

            Gently, (Y/N) opened it.

            Shick!

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they took a step back. A man in a white, bandage-like suit stood above Medrano. He pulled two crescent-shaped blades from his chest, and Medrano’s body slumped to the ground. The man paused and looked towards the door, the moon sighting the crescent-illusion in his hood and the symbol on the forehead and chest.

            “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here,” said the man, but (Y/N) felt in their heart that he wasn’t speaking to them.

            “Does it matter? Your job is to punish the wrongdoers in this mansion.”

            (Y/N) blinked as they heard a voice echo from behind them. It was a god’s voice. Not Ma’at, no, but most definitely a deity.

            “I won’t hurt a kid, Khonshu,” snapped the avatar, and his hood folded back.

            (Y/N) turned around and found themself staring up (really up) at a half-man, half-bird skeleton in white wrappings. This was Khonshu.

            “I’m not a wrongdoer,” said (Y/N) to Khonshu, holding up their hands. “I’m, uh, an Avatar.”

            At that, Khonshu and man stopped.

            “You can see him?” said the man, frowning warily.

            “I’m the Avatar of Ma’at,” said (Y/N). They shifted. They weren’t used to saying that. “She’s the goddess of truth.” They could see the “truth” of the world more than others, and that included the gods that walked among them.

            “That ostrich is interfering with my work,” said Khonshu, irritated.

            “You are the one who is not supposed to interfere with human business,” said Ma’at’s calm voice, and (Y/N) glanced at the office’s large window to find her sitting on the sill.

            Khonshu’s avatar looked at the window but saw nothing. “Is another god here?”

            (Y/N) nodded sharply. This was a little too much. They were used to working by themself.

            “You are doing the exact same thing,” said Khonshu.

            “I am returning artifacts to our people,” said Ma’at. “I am not interfering in human life more than that.” She glanced at Medrano’s body. “Unlike some.”

            Khonshu tsked. “I am delivering justice.”

            “A type, yes,” said Ma’at.

            “Ma’at,” said (Y/N) quietly. “I’m going to take the tablet..”

            “Go ahead, (Y/N),” said Ma’at. “Khonshu will not harm you. You have done no wrong.”

            “They interfered with my work,” said Khonshu.

            “Irritating is not wrongdoing,” said Ma’at.

            (Y/N) decided to leave before the gods continued to argue. It made them uncomfortable. Then again, a lot of interaction did. (Y/N) hadn’t really gotten to slow down and make friends after 2018, so they’d grown used to their own company (or Ma’at’s). Everything else was business, and anything more was out of their realm of understanding.

            (Y/N) opened their bag and slipped the wrapped tablet carefully from the table inside. They looked decidedly away from Medrano’s body, glanced at Khonshu’s avatar, and left the room.

            If that’s what Avatars and gods outside of themself and Ma’at were like, (Y/N) didn’t want to meet them.

l

2025…

            “(Y/N).”

            The now-seventeen-year-old raised their eyes from the book they were reading. “Yes, Ma’at?”

            “I have an important job for you.”

            (Y/N) frowned. Ma’at never described anything as “important.” Necessary? Yes. Important? No. Everything was equally pertinent to upholding justice and order to Ma’at.

            “I need you to retrieve a scarab.”

            “Who stole it?” asked (Y/N).

            “You are.”

            (Y/N) looked at Ma’at in surprise. “What?” Ma’at disliked any injustice or unlawful actions.

            “You are stealing the scarab of Ammit,” said Ma’at.

            Ammit.

            Ammit ruled the scales in the Judgement of the Dead. Ma’at was the Feather of Truth against which human hearts were weighed. One had abandoned true justice; one continued to defend it.

            And (Y/N) was stuck in the middle with the burden to protect the truth of it all.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

[darcyme]

Read the news today, I decided to translate this poem I learned in grade 5. It is called "Emily, con..." The poem was in Vietnamese. It was about Norman Morrison, a man who self-immolated in front of the pentagon in protest of the Vietnam war.

Emily, come with me  When you grow up, you know the way, you won't get lost  “Where are we going, Dad?” To the Potomac  “What are we looking for, Dad?”  Nothing dear, only the Pentagon  O my child, round are your eyes O my child, gold are your strands  Don’t ask me much, yeah?  I'll take you out, you will be with Mom tonight  Washington  Twilight  O poor souls  Remain or lost  Blazing truth! Johnson! Your crimes weigh heavy  Humanity detests  The yellow demon of this Earth  You cannot borrow red blood Of Christ, and yellow of Buddha  McNamara Where are you hiding? In the graveyard  Of the pentagonal building  Each corner for a continent  You still hide your head  In flame Like an ostrich buried in scorching sand Look! Look at me now! It’s only me with my daughter in my arms  I am today And my daughter, Emily, you are forever!  I stand tall  With a great heart  Of a hundred million people  Of America To set fire to the horizon  A torch  Of justice.  All of you, a pack of devils In whose name?  You bring B-52s Napalm, mustard gas From the White House  From Guam  To Vietnam To assassinate peace and national freedom  To incinerate hospitals and schools  Kill the people who only know love Kill the children who only know school Kill the green fields of four seasons  And even kill the rivers of poetry and art! In whose name?  You bury our youth in coffins  O our strong and beautiful men  Who can turn nature into electricity and steel  For the happiness of the people!  In whose name?  You bring us to jungles Spiked pits, swamps of resistance  Villages turn hidden fortresses Night and days, heaven moves and Earth shakes… O Vietnam, how strange are you Children become heroes Wild bees become warriors Flowers and fruit become weapons! Die, die  All of you, a pack of devils Listen! My fellow Americans!  To the voices of pain, of eternal hatred Of a son. Of a person of the century Emily, my dear! It’s getting dark…  I cannot take you home anymore When the flame ignites Mom will come find you tonight  You will hug and kiss her  For me And tell her:  “Dad went in peace, please don’t cry.” Washington  Twilight  O poor souls  Remain or lost  It’s time, my heart burns bright  I set myself alight The blazing truth. 

[en-scribed]

ORION'S FINEST [fantasy short story]

Personified immortal Stars have lived secretly on Earth throughout history. This piece takes place in 14th century Mamluk Egypt, so Arabic star names are used as the main roots. Yad al-Jawza (currently the Star Betelgeuse) and her brother Rijl al-Jawza (Rigel) interfere in human affairs for fun. The Stars' world was created by myself and @heirmyst. Previous post: [THE THREE BIRDS] Next post: [GATHERER OF GRAIN] [CENTER OF THE WORLD] Word count: 7,275

For the sake of the sultanate’s sanity, the leading amir’s jockey getting knocked off his horse just short of the race’s end was an act of God, and certainly not Yad-al-Jawza casting a minor explosion to keep him from winning. 

“Yamna,” her brother Jabbar scolded, sitting beside her on the cloud. “Why are you playing with the earthlings again?”

“That one has won every race these past several weeks now.” She gestured to the affronted amir, his screams drowning out even the fallen one as attendants came to his aid. The last centuries had taught Yamna that the rich ones whined incessantly about even the most minor of grievances. “He needs to be humbled.”

“Do you truly have nothing better to do?”

She sighed, sitting back. “Not since the last execution.” Her assumption had been that a sultanate formed by ambitious slave soldiers would be endlessly stimulating, and it was proven wrong long ago. All the stories from the sun king and other fellow Stars over at Iran made her jealous; they lived near all the action, while all she and her brother got to have these days was covert attendance at parties. Still, she’d learned to make her own entertainment wherever possible. Turning to Jabbar conspiratorially, she said, “The week-long hunt starts shortly. Anyone in particular you want to unleash an ostrich onto?”

He scoffed. “Sister, please. I am a captain, and I have much more important—”

“Oh, I understand,” Yamna said, a smile playing on her lips. “Of course, this means I’ll have gathered up more activity to report to the king. You can proudly say that while I was doing all this, you just sat there, refusing to engage. I’m sure he’d love that.”

Jabbar’s eyes narrowed, sudden competitive fervor lighting them up with blue flame. Conjuring a glowing hunter’s net in his hands, he opened his wings and took to the air. “Excuse me while I set the trap.”

Yamna laughed, calling after him as he flew off. “That’s more like it. Show them the real hunter’s spirit!” 

She meant to simply unleash the unique chaos of Jabbar’s attempts to show off, sitting back and enjoying the resulting mess from a distance, but truthfully, the curiosity was irresistible. He could go and rile up the prey all he wanted; Yamna would take the first step in knocking the hunters off their pedestals. She took off, and the sand blowing in her face was a small annoyance compared to the triumph of finally getting her brother to do this with her again. He was getting too up in the clouds about being the constellation’s captain lately, and she resolved to remind him he still wasn’t above having fun at the mortals’ expense.

She touched down near the paddocks, wedging herself behind a nearby strip of date palms. For once, she resented her stout, muscular form, good for everything except stealth; even vanishing her wings did nothing to help her hide convincingly. 

Surveying her marks, she resisted the urge to gush with excitement about the sheer wealth of potential practical jokes available to her. 

Should she release the precious falcons into the air? Let the gold-adorned dogs or the trained cheetahs out? Disrupt the tent building activity taking place around the preserve? Perhaps she could even steal crossbows and wait for the amirs to fight about it amongst themselves.

The majordomo entered, calling after the hunters, who all stood at attention. He carried a sack of blowguns. Perfect, Yamna thought, thanking the skies above for this glorious opportunity. The man left the sack on the ground, bowed respectfully, and made a swift exit as all the hopeful hunters descended on it like hawks. 

Yamna tapped her fingers impatiently on the palm’s trunk, waiting for them to disperse. They were taking an ungodly amount of time, examining the make of the guns as if they were samples of fine wine. 

Fortunately for her, when they did abandon the sack, they were too distracted arguing amongst themselves, measuring extremities under the veneer of respectability. 

They left the door right open for Yamna’s entrance.

In a blink, she rushed to the sack and retrieved one of the spare blowguns. She rolled the accompanying clay pellets in her hand; she could make this work. Counting on all the large animals at the edges of the paddocks to conceal her, Yamna took in her marks. Who was going to have the honor of being the first target?

“Back to the tents. Now.” 

The genuinely threatening tone caught Yamna’s ear over the sea of overly saccharine, passive aggressive mingling. A cheetah growled in response to whoever spoke those words. 

“And if I say no?” a woman’s voice challenged, low and lilting. 

Yamna perked up, at attention. This, she had to hear. 

She peeked over the horse’s behind blocking her vision, just enough to catch sight of the man and woman in question. The woman, every bit as maddeningly serene as her voice, held the cheetah back, meeting the man’s eyes with the unspoken implication that it was entirely his luck that she didn’t let it pounce. 

The man, a nondescript amir who looked exactly the same as the rest of his ilk, didn’t seem to catch the subtlety at play in the fog of his obvious insecurity. “Malak,” he said, the name familiar and disdainful in his mouth. “I entertained your fantasies up until here. I believed you’d see sense once we reached this… frankly ridiculous excursion.”

“Ah, so keeping me from this is out of care for my welfare now?” she shot back. The cheetah purred with agreement.

He shook his head. “Deny truth all you want, but don’t ask me to indulge this.”

And just like that, Yamna’s buffet of choices narrowed to one insufferable man. She balled a clay pellet in her fist, imbuing it with red hot energy from the flame that made up her entire being. With a few swift motions, she loaded the blowgun, and aimed for his shoulder.

She shot. The pellet-sized explosion hit right on cue. 

“Who dares?” someone screamed, and another responded, “Save them for the birds!”, while another with slightly less skewed priorities yelled for a physician.

The shock gradually turned to a blame game as everyone scrambled to figure out who had enough of a petty grudge against the amir to waste a pellet. As Yamna took off, away from the admittedly tantalizing scene, she cast one last glance back. To her relief, Malak was safely being escorted away.

Then, she saw the man himself, and wanted to slap herself. She had not, in fact, hit his shoulder and ruined his chance to hunt like she wanted. The shot grazed the back of his turban instead.

Well, she couldn’t win everything. 

Once again, she took to the date palms, this time perching on one’s canopy for a better vantage point on the paddocks. The chaos had settled, and the crowd was several bodies lighter; everyone except the most foolhardy of hunters, surprisingly including Yamna’s victim, had fled to the comfortable tents.

Before she had the chance to search for Malak, a blue filter overtook her vision. 

A net dropped over her and pushed against her side, knocking her toward the ground. Her wings were snagged too, leaving no chance of resistance. 

“Jabbar!” she protested. “I was watching the mortals scatter like ants! That’s always the best part!”

He dissolved the net into thin air, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. “Shame on me for assuming you’d stay put,” he said, but the mask of annoyance wasn’t enough to hide the restrained laugh. “What did you do?”

“Shot a man who had it coming,” she said breezily. 

“Right,” he said, unconvinced. “How badly did you miss?”

Yamna punched his shoulder, refusing to dignify that with a verbal response, even as her face burned with embarrassment. She would submerge herself in the Nile at night before she admitted he was right about having better aim than her. “Forget that. What did you do?” She rubbed her hands together in excitement for the answer, small sparks bursting at her palms.

“Managed to lay traps on the fringes of the preserves before having to stop,” he said. “I ran into the sultan. He wanted to speak to you.”

She made a face. “Skies above. That barely formed child?”

The clop of horse’s hooves announced a new arrival. “I am no longer a child, Yad al-Jawza.” Sultan al-Nasir Muhammad gracefully disembarked from his mount. From his gait, it seemed as if he’d come into his own as a young man, but Yamna privately thought he still looked woefully undercooked. She was further vindicated when, obviously unaccustomed to having to function without a go-between, he reached for Yamna’s hands and wisely stopped before going further. “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced.”

“We have,” Yamna pointed out. “You just happened to be a hatchling at the time.”

His face hardened with defensiveness, reminding Yamna that he was in fact a man with a chip on his shoulder about having something to prove. Disappointing. She missed the precocious child, in over his head as he was. “You’ll find that much has changed since then.” His attention shifted to the nearby paddocks. “I assume you caused this havoc?”

Yamna stiffened. She had not been expecting to get caught.

Jabbar stepped protectively in front of her. “Great sultan, I hope you don’t presume to charge my sister with—”

The sultan held a hand up to stop him, without breaking eye contact with Yamna. “Who did you hit?” 

The posture broke any tension Yamna might have felt; how was she supposed to feel intimidated when she easily towered above the man? “The one accompanied by his wife and a cheetah,” she said without hesitation. “Honestly, if I hadn’t done it first, the creature definitely would have. And I wouldn’t overlook the wife either.”

Jabbar sighed, realizing there was no use defending the guilty. “Why do I bother?”

“Hossam, then,” the sultan said thoughtfully, clearly having stopped listening at the man’s description. “Yes, I have suspected. A particularly troublesome one.” 

Somehow, Yamna didn’t feel as if the suspicion was in her direction. Jabbar looked at her, just as confused.

“These last two reigns have barely been my own. Still, rest assured, this one will mark history.” Remembering the Stars were his audience, he said, “My predecessor’s execution was only the beginning. If I allow you free reign to inflict what you wish upon the amirs during these hunts, do you believe you can… clean out my court?”

Jabbar scoffed. “With all due respect, we don’t merely exist as tools for your mortal politics and—”

“We wholeheartedly accept, great sultan,” Yamna cut in. Here was an excuse to have all the fun she wanted with these pompous amirs, handed on a silver platter. Why shouldn’t she take it? “When do we begin?”

The sultan stared at Yamna like he didn’t quite know what to make of her, then turned to address Jabbar, because apparently his opinion was the important one at play. Typical. “Rijl al-Jawza, I assure you, this will benefit you as well. Your—”

“Save it,” Jabbar said coolly. “I’ll defer to my sister here, thank you.”

Yamna smiled. It was moments like these that made her certain she would scorch the very skies for her brother. “Let Orion’s hunt begin!” 

Without further ado, the siblings took to the air, laughing and kicking up a small sandstorm in the faces of the sultan and his horse.

As soon as they ascended beyond the clouds, the air cooled between them in the absence of the need to perform. Falcon cries echoed from every direction. One almost flew right into them. Yamna let it perch on her arm.

“Thank you,” Yamna said to her brother, stroking the falcon’s head. “I’m… sorry I got excited. I know you had your reservations, but…”

“Sultan or not, he had no right to supersede your acceptance that way,” Jabbar said. “I doubt he even has the facts straight about our ranks. Who does he think he is?”

“A man,” Yamna ventured. 

“Exactly! A mere man! Why would—” Jabbar trailed off, realization about what she truly meant dawning slowly on his face. He sighed, exasperated; he tended to forget such matters entirely, treating them like an inconvenient reminder when brought up. Yamna honestly envied him. “Humans and their ridiculous divisions of sex…”

“Jabbar,” she said, amused. “We’ve taken on those divisions as well. We call each other sister and brother, for skies’ sake.”

“Not all of us have taken the easy way out. The North Star outright refuses to, and they’re in good company. Besides,” he said with a teasing smile, gesturing vaguely to Yamna’s whole form, “tell me what about any of that signifies a woman in any mortal’s sense of the word.”

She let the falcon go free and pulled her military coat tighter around herself, glaring. So what if she preferred it this way? After all, so-called women’s clothing was much better admired from a distance. Preferably on a different beautiful woman. “It signifies so in an immortal’s sense of the word,” she said. “And by an immortal, I mean me. It’s my word.”

Her brother nodded sagely. “The only word that matters.”

She laughed. At least human men’s narrow-mindedness gave her and Jabbar a common enemy. Now he had no choice but to take part in the game out of sheer contrarian spite.

The two of them touched down in the shrubs lining the hunting preserve. 

Predictably, a ready net had materialized in Jabbar’s hands before Yamna could even close her wings. Forging ahead toward a clearing with obvious purpose, he said, “This way!” 

“Oh?” Yamna followed, her curiosity piqued. “Why that direction in particular?”

He laughed, confirming her hope with a wink. “A good hunter always knows when his trap is sprung.”

They barrelled through the thicket, stopping short when a gaggle of amirs’ screams reached their ears. With a light touch of flame, Yamna burned away the leaves obscuring her vision and peeked out her makeshift window. Ahead, a glowing net, hanging securely from branches above, had hoisted three men into the air. Two ostriches on either side tossed the swinging net between them, a different cry ringing out with each hit depending on which man was the current victim.

As if that wasn’t delightful enough, for a split moment, Yamna caught sight of a burned turban. Hossam was one of the men inside. This was everything she wanted.

Yamna looked between the sight and Jabbar a few times, impressed and baffled. “You did not.”

He shrugged, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. “Who else could?” 

“I thought you didn’t want to,” she said without thinking, and immediately wanted to smack herself for how pathetically wounded her voice sounded. When Jabbar looked back at her, his face creasing with concern, she forced a sardonic laugh into her next words. “I mean, I thought Orion’s illustrious captain was too good for fun now.”

He elbowed her playfully. “I thought so too. Then you dragged me into this.”

Yamna wanted to cry. Ever since the rest of their constellation scattered towards their own tasks, Jabbar was all she had. Him avoiding time with her in favor of appearing serious and competent for Stars that weren’t even there with them… stung in a way she could never quite figure out how to say out loud. She could have, right then.

“You were going to rust uselessly if I didn’t,” was what she said instead. “Idiot.”

He rolled his eyes, the smile not leaving his face. Then, he reached within the folds of his outer tunic and pulled out a crossbow. He notched the arrow and handed it to Yamna. “Do you want to end their misery?”

“Where did you—”

“The sultan had to approach me without his procession in tow,” he said. “Should have kept a closer eye on his stuff.”

Yamna mentally rescinded every comment she’d made about her brother becoming boring. Eagerly, she swiped the crossbow. Taking the arrow’s end in her fist, she added her own personal touch to it. She positioned the weapon and aimed. 

When she made to shoot, she underestimated her strength. 

The arrow flew unscathed. Its bow wasn’t too lucky. It cracked from the force of her grip. Wood splintered in her hands and fell to the ground in useless, charred pieces. Jabbar pulled her back into the shrubs before she could reach to salvage something.

The explosion she’d stored in the arrow went off and the men screamed, falling to the ground with a too-loud thud. 

Yamna dared to peek. 

She hadn’t just hit the branch she aimed for; she’d toppled the entire tree backwards. At least the ostriches had escaped.

“Good work,” Jabbar said flatly.

She shoved him in retaliation. “Well, it covered for us, didn’t it?”

Hossam shoved the other men off of himself and struggled to his feet. “Did anyone maintain this preserve?” he yelled to no one in particular. “Trees falling everywhere. Unacceptable.”

Yamna smiled smugly at Jabbar. See?

One of the men cleared his throat apprehensively. “I believe the ostriches went that direction, my lord.”

“To hell with the ostriches,” Hossam shot back. “And with this so-called sultan. Were it not for my unwanted company, I would have finished him off before this poor excuse for a game began.”

Yamna froze. Beside her, she felt her brother tense with sudden focus. Was this…?

“You cannot still be considering this plot,” the third man objected strongly. “After Baybars’ execution?”

Hossam scoffed. “The cowards who were scared off by that stunt didn’t have what it took to begin with. I refuse to let this man under my skin with his overcompensation.” Promptly, he proceeded to walk backwards into a loose branch and fall flat on his face. Waving off his men’s attempts to help, he said, “One way or another, I will end this hunt prematurely!”  

The half-hearted hunters scurried away toward the wildfowl that they lost. As soon as they were out of sight, Jabbar seized Yamna’s shoulders, unmistakable urgency in his eyes.

“We need to nip this plot in the bud,” he said.

“Why?” Yamna asked. The news was shocking, to be sure, but she had no attachment to the sultan. All of these nominally powerful men blended together in her mind. “Let him do it, I say. Either way, it will be fun to watch.”

Jabbar shook his head. “At least this current fool on the throne knows us and is a reliable secret keeper. Can you say the same for anyone who’ll usurp him? The lack of a succession line guarantees us nothing!”

She cursed under her breath. Out of every possible thing Stars had to worry about, humans’ political instability was the most annoying. She could handle skirmishes with monstrous Hauntings or devastating floods any day of the week, but she could not explode her way out of a succession crisis. 

Or at least, she’d never tried to. Yet.

Oblivious to her thoughts, Jabbar scanned their surroundings. “I’m going to keep the conspirators occupied and see if they’ve got anyone else involved. Hossam made it sound like most of the coterie wouldn’t be, but it can’t hurt to make sure.”

Yamna stood. “I’ll come with—”

“No!” he shot back, so adamantly it made her flinch. Instantly though, the flame in his eyes faded, and he went on, softer, “Yamna, I didn’t mean…”

When he reached for her hand, she pulled back, plastering on a smile. “It’s fine,” she said, even as a break in her voice betrayed her. “I’ll let you take this, captain.”

She took off, because the last thing her brother needed to worry about right then was her inconvenient emotions. If he knew how she felt, he’d either give in despite being right, or he’d stay to make her feel better. 

Neither could happen right then, Yamna decided; she was not going to ruin more than she’d already had. 

As the sun began to dull, she landed where the falcons circled, near the ground populated with extravagant tents. Taking a deep breath, she closed her wings and left the safety of the palm trees. If she couldn’t do anything useful in Jabbar’s stealthy and serious mission, she could at least be mindlessly entertained with the nonsense in the tent quarters. 

She’d be here for a whole week. This was how far she’d fallen.

In the midst of feeling sorry for herself, Yamna didn’t see the cheetah before it tackled her.

She proved too heavy to instantly knock to the ground, but it didn’t do her any favors; the surprise was enough, and she was too preoccupied trying to keep any spontaneous fire at bay to focus on her balance. The cheetah pinned her to the ground and bared its teeth, growling.

Yamna spat loose sand. “Can we not do this now?” she asked the cheetah, tired and unfazed.

It stopped growling and stepped backwards, its gold eyes blinking in confusion. It hadn’t released Yamna just yet; she’d just gone from intruder to curiosity.

“You must forgive Hurairah. I asked her to guard the tent,” a new voice floated in, bemused. A woman walked out of the nearest tent. Malak, Yamna recalled. “Get off of the nice lady, beloved!” 

 Hurairah finally left Yamna alone to return to Malak, and Yamna was left on the ground, blinking. Had she just been called a lady, and a nice one at that? There was no telling what would come next.

Malak helped her to her feet. “She’s still staring,” she said, tilting her head in the direction of the cheetah. “I believe she likes you.”

“Flattering. I wonder why,” Yamna said, knowing exactly why. Night was setting in, and cats always did tend to be more perceptive to Stars’ light around this time. “How are you enjoying the hunt?”

Malak’s face scrunched with irritation. “Please. Genuine enjoyment for me might as well be a crime.” 

She laughed bitterly. “You and me both.”

A spark of interest seemed to wash all of Malak’s boredom away. She met Yamna’s eyes with an odd sort of hope, as if she was looking for some of her own discontent mirrored. “Are you… here with anyone?”

“My brother,” Yamna said automatically. 

Malak’s gaze remained steady, hungry for more. Skies above, Yamna thought, trying not to panic. If she couldn’t manage stealth in the hunting grounds, how was she meant to do so in a conversation? 

Carefully, uncharacteristically testing every word in her head, Yamna went on, “We’re here on the sultan’s request. My brother’s an incredible hunter, and I misfire every weapon I touch. As much as I’d love to be out there, you can see why I’ve been made to retreat.” She paused. Was that everything? “And, well…” She gestured vaguely at herself. “You know how men are.”

There, she thought, satisfied with herself. Enough of the truth to say comfortably, and vague for plausible deniability at the same time.

Malak nodded, fully on board. “Do not get me started. My husband is out hunting, and I’m left here.” On cue, the cheetah smacked her head against Malak’s leg, making her laugh. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, beloved. You know that.”

Yamna watched the woman fawn over the cat. The silk mantle draped flawlessly around her, and she carried it as effortlessly as if it were part of her own flesh. Malak seemed so much freer, less on-defense now than she was back at the paddocks. Fighter that Yamna was, she couldn’t help but tense up; this was too intimate for her to bear witness. She was not used to seeing humans letting down their walls of pomp and performance.

This woman must be guarded, she thought. Most of all from that unbearable man she has to call her husband.

Her husband… the conspirator she and Jabbar were meant to clean out.

The instant Yamna remembered the mission, her mind burst with glorious clarity.

She was going to make herself useful, and she was going to do it without collateral damage. This challenge would be conquered swiftly.

Yamna cleared her throat to get Malak’s attention. “This would be when I take my leave, my lady. Do you know of any spare tents I can use until my brother returns?”

“Nonsense!” Malak said, reaching for Yamna’s hand, smiling widely. “I wouldn’t dream of subjecting you to the…” She bit her lip, searching for a polite descriptor. “...various characters who saw fit to trail this hunt. You’re staying with me.”

“My lady—”

“Stop.” She held up a palm. “I won’t hear a word otherwise. And for the love of God, the name is Malak. Call me as such.”

Yamna smiled, and she didn’t have to fake it this time. This was starting off even better than she’d thought. “As you wish, Malak. Please, lead the way.”

Malak bolted into the tent, dragging Yamna by the hand. Yamna let herself be led forward, but she made it only one step inside before her feet touched carpet. Lush, very flammable carpet. 

Bury the fire, she told herself, trying to repress it even though it was a laughably contrary instinct for a Star. Bury it deep, deep down.

Malak let out a cry of surprise and abruptly dropped Yamna’s hand. Concerned, she touched her face. “Friend, you’re positively feverish!”

“Am I?” She scrambled for an excuse that wouldn’t get her cast out of the tent; she was too close to be pulled away now. “I’m… simply adjusting to Cairo’s weather. This is nothing to worry about!”

Malak sighed. “Of course. You’ve been out all day, haven’t you? I’d have assumed the sultan would at least given you and your brother a proper welcome before hoisting this task on you.” She looped her arm through Yamna’s and led her, more gently this time, to a spread on the ground. A lead platter sat there, a lavish mutton dish inside with a piece of fresh bread. Two golden goblets were placed on either side. “Eat. You need it, and I’m certainly not passing up the rare chance at a meal with someone tolerable.”

At her insistence, Yamna sat, racking her brain for the appropriate way to act; it had been far too long since she had to consume a human meal. As if that wasn’t enough to worry about, Malak unwrapped her head covering, her tied-up tresses falling to her waist like midnight waves. She was looking at Yamna expectantly. Clearly, the guest had to eat first.

Yamna tore half of the bread for herself, a safe bet on a fair share. 

Then, she wrapped it around the portion of meat, and bit down on the meal with full force. Malak was staring, her eyes wide and her hands over her mouth. Skies above, why was she staring? Yamna blinked, her mouth full of food that she couldn’t prevent in time from instantly burning. 

Malak burst out laughing. “Right. I should’ve realized.” Her gaze swept keenly over Yamna’s form, an approving smile blossoming across her face. “You didn’t achieve that… impeccable physique by shying away from food.”

Yamna swallowed, relieved and oddly pleased by the compliment. “Yes,” she said, even though she hadn’t eaten in the last century, and for the life of her, she could not understand humans’ inexplicable push-and-pull with their source of sustenance. Why would consuming less of one’s life source ever be considered a virtue? Light was the closest thing the Stars had to an equivalent; no one in their right minds would think to deprive themselves of it. 

“Oh, wait!” Malak grabbed the remaining piece of the bread and imitated Yamna’s haphazard method of wrapping it around meat, bubbling over with infectious laughter. She attempted to stuff it in her mouth in one go, but had to settle for a quaint, human sized bite from the top instead. That didn’t seem to deter her enthusiasm for even this quiet act of rebellion. “Lovely.”

With gleeful abandon, they devoured the platter clean and didn’t leave a single morsel to spare.

The two of them were lounging on the carpet, indulging themselves with the beverages and exchanging stories of travel, when a scream sounded outside the tent, followed by Hurairah growling. Malak’s face fell, the brightness of the past hour vanishing as if it had never been there. 

She cast Yamna an apologetic look as she donned her covering. “He’s back.”

Yamna perked up. The target. She could start learning how to end him now. She followed Malak outside. 

“Leave him alone, beloved,” Malak called out, and it might have been the most half-hearted, toothless reproach Yamna had ever heard, second only to the way Jabbar scolded her for exploding people who beat children. Hurairah obeyed, without taking her eyes off Hossam.

The man struggled to his feet, dazed. Yamna noted with amusement the net burns on his outer garments. “If you don’t get that accursed animal under control, woman, I’ll—” He seemed to notice Yamna for the first time, and reached for the sword at his belt, eyebrows furrowing with anger. “Who are you?”

Yamna couldn’t muster a reply at first, until she realized; he was mistaking her for a man. The child sultan had made the same error when she first appeared to him, simply because of her cropped hair and dressing; and here, she’d thought humans got wiser with age. “This is immensely improper behavior, you know,” she said.

Hossam froze at the sound of her voice and sheathed the sword again, now more confused than angry.

A shadow of a smile returned to Malak’s face. “Yamna here is my friend. She’s kept me company in your absence.”

He was already shoving his way into the tent, muttering something about Malak’s choices in company. Yamna took this as her cue to leave and reconnect with Jabbar, but Malak held her back.

“Stay,” she whispered. “Please.”

“I plan to,” Yamna said truthfully, savoring the look of relief that crossed the other woman’s face. “I must meet with my brother first.”

Malak nodded gratefully, turning to go back inside. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Hurairah grumbled, making her displeasure known as soon as Malak was out of earshot. Sympathetically, Yamna patted her soft head. “Sooner than you think,” she promised.

After making sure every hunter had taken refuge in their tents, Yamna opened her wings and set off into the night sky. Jabbar sat anxiously on a cloud nearby, waiting for her. 

“Yamna!” He took a few tentative wingbeats toward her. “I’m sorry, you know I never wanted to—”

“Oh, shut it.” She shoved him playfully, sending him flailing about in empty air for a moment before he steadied his flight. “You can have your serious missions, and captain duties, and whatever, they’re all yours. I’ve found some new entertainment in the tents.”

“You… have?” he asked, with inexplicable disappointment. The tone gave Yamna pause. Shouldn’t this have made him happy? “With what?”

“Not so fast, dear brother. If I tell you now, it will only distract you.” 

“But—”

Before he could continue, she cast an explosion at him, which he easily countered with a protective net of his own. 

“Fine!” he conceded. “Keep your secrets. Have a good week, I suppose.”

Yamna folded her arms and nodded, satisfied. She would have a good week, and get the stupid conspirator out of their way as she did so. “Nice work today,” she told him. “I saw how much you managed to bust him up when he returned.”

He perked up. “Really? If I keep it up, would the king be impressed with me?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” she said, and resolved silently to follow through. After all, Jabbar didn’t know it, but he was going to make this much easier for Yamna; in every way, this would be a team effort. 

“Alright,” he said, quietly, as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Yamna looked at him curiously. In what world would he think she wouldn’t even do that little for him? He caught her eye and straightened up. “I should go back to the preserves and… set up for when they leave after Fajr prayer.”

He bolted away before she had the chance to press further into the strangeness of leaving so early. There were several hours left before Fajr; maybe he simply didn’t want to be around her when he had to take care of work.

That’s fine, she reminded herself. I have work too. She dived, returning to the tent grounds.

As the week went on, Yamna learned a great deal from witnessing Hossam and Malak’s daily life up close. 

Malak was a different person depending on proximity to Hossam. The iron core beneath her lovely silk garments and the sharpness in her eyes was a constant, of course, but when she was alone with Yamna, whom she had known for only a few days, she was all smiles, loose and carefree. 

Around the man she’d been spending her life with, the defenses went up. She spoke as if on trial, and he belittled her every happiness; the one bad time Yamna had observed on the first day seemed to be their norm.

He annoyed Malak, that much was clear as day. Yamna would be doing her a favor by taking him out. 

Or at least, that was what she told herself, every subsequent sunrise. The reality of the days involved much less watching for Hossam’s weaknesses and more… warm mundanity with Malak. Sharing meals, walking Hurairah, relaxing in baths… all of this they did while Hossam was out. He was the subject graciously sidestepped in conversation, never mentioned by name, lest the acknowledgement shatter the joy.

On the fifth day, it hit Yamna all at once; she was no closer to ending him. Once more, she’d neglected the seriousness of a mission for… what? Useless play?

Malak jabbed her in the side with an idle foot, sprawling across a ridiculous amount of pillows. “What are you afraid of?” she asked, casual as ever.

Yamna puffed out her chest. “Never in my long and storied life have I been afraid of anything.”

“Really?” she asked slyly, clearly pleased in meeting this challenge. “Your silence and fidgeting today says otherwise.” 

Yamna threw aside the pillow she’d already ripped to shreds. “So?”

“So, I want to know more. Even if we ignore right now, surely you don’t expect me to believe you’ve always been this perfectly sculpted, absolute marvel of a woman who could kill a man with a glance?”

If only killing a man with a glance was accepted behavior at the moment. “Trying to flatter me into confession, are you?”

Malak inched closer on the mattress. “Is it working?”

“Almost,” she admitted. And so, like she had with every question thrown her way, Yamna played the game of dressing truth in human skin. It was always more convenient than lying. “I earned the spoils of every game I’ve played fair and square. I didn’t start out like this, I made myself so because I was bright and unstoppable and… I just could. I’m an asset to the ruler of my land, and my brother knows it.” This hung in the air. She hadn’t seen him all week except for in short glimpses. He was always so busy with the mission. “I hope he doesn’t take it to heart.”

“He shouldn’t,” Malak said. “You’ll both be on your way as soon as this hunt passes, nothing soured.”

The next question, Yamna didn’t meticulously polish. Raw and unfiltered, she asked, “Where will you be? After—”

Malak placed a finger on Yamna’s lips. Their eyes met, and they were close enough together that Yamna knew she wasn’t the only one heating up. Oh, she realized, comically too late. She’d done this a little too well. Yamna leaned down enough for Malak to eagerly make her move.

Their lips collided. Malak, determined, held fast, practically scaling Yamna’s body to deepen the kiss further. Yamna kept a hand on Malak’s back, pulling her in closer; suddenly, keeping the explosions at bay was second nature, because in that moment, they were not Yamna’s greatest pleasure. This was.

They parted for breath only when Malak toppled them over onto the mattress.

“You,” Malak managed between breaths, still on top of Yamna, “light fires within me. A force of nature, you are.”

You have no idea. Yamna reached up to pull a strand of hair away from Malak’s eyes. She wanted that smiling face before her in all its glory. “Look at you,” she said admiringly. “Such brilliance, and all of it waters down in other company. What are you afraid of?”

Hossam’s voice yelled outside, drawing closer and shattering the scene.

“That,” Malak answered softly, instantly moving to smooth out her hair and dress. 

Yamna bolted upright with a start, and not just because of who was coming their way. “What did you say?”

Malak flinched, avoiding her eyes. She hadn’t misspoken, then. 

“You’re afraid of him?” Yamna pressed. All that shameless rebellion, then… what for? “You know you can—”

The tent entrance parted and Hossam stormed his way in. “Five days,” he said between heavy breaths. His clothes were blackened in impressions of Jabbar’s nets. “Several men lost in the maze these preserves have become. And not a single worthwhile kill to show for it!” He rounded on Malak. “You. Make use of all the space you and your beast have been taking up. I need some relief.”

Yamna clenched her fist, sparks coalescing within. She could end him now. 

For a moment, Malak held her gaze. Then, she turned to Hossam, resentment burning in her eyes. “You can’t get this… relief elsewhere?”

He laughed humorlessly. “You are the only wife who insisted on coming along. Who else would it fall to?”

The unabashed crass speech, in front of a third person no less, was unbelievable. Then again, Hossam stopped seeing Yamna as a person the very second he no longer perceived her to be a male threat. Resigned, Malak looked to Yamna. One word, Yamna thought, trying to convey it with her eyes. One gesture from you and he’s dead meat. 

“Go,” Malak said instead. 

Stunned, Yamna walked out. This time, Malak hadn’t begged her to stay. What else could she have done? 

So much, she reminded herself. I could have—would have done it all. I lost my nerve when it counted most.

She lingered outside the tent, listening. It started with argument, the louder voice dominating like it was his right until the lower one snapped under the pressure and dared, for a few words, to match its volume. Dead silence, and then…

The tent’s hide only barely muffled the discordant sounds of pain that followed. 

Yamna stared at empty space in the unforgiving night sky, thinking for the first time since the week started something other than the game. This was why she’d contented herself with witnessing only the humans’ fumbling, overdressed public selves; what lurked behind closed doors was too dark, too at odds with the fun she wanted to have, and not everything she found distasteful in this domain could be swiftly humbled with an explosive practical joke.

She came to a startling conclusion; she would not kill Hossam. 

Neither would Jabbar, and certainly, nor would the sultan. None of them had earned the spoils of this particular hunt.

 She looked to the sky. “Next sunrise,” she resolved, waiting every drawn out hour for the king’s sun to bestow upon her the strength she was going to need.

Finally, the time came. 

The men filed out of tents to congregate for Fajr prayer, and Yamna wasted no time in bolting toward the tent. Fortunately enough, Malak was already outside, putting out a piece of dry meat for Hurairah. 

“You aren’t praying?” she asked.

Malak jumped, surprised, but the relief on her face could have melted mountains. Yamna didn’t miss the difference in the way she wrapped her head covering, so it covered more of her face than it usually did. What she’d heard in the tent last night made it easy to guess why.

“It’s my… monthly exemption,” Malak said with a wry smile. Yamna thanked the skies above that Stars didn’t have to deal with the counterproductive mess of periods. “I suppose I’m impure in more ways than one now.”

“And all the better for it,” Yamna said. “I believe so, at least.”

“Your word is worth more than any other.” Then, the smile faded and she said, softer, “I told you to go. You likely get enough grief as is for existing, and I—”

“I will go,” she promised quickly. “But first…” From the folds of her outer coat, she produced a blowgun, handing it delicately to Malak. “Follow the hunt. Stay unseen, the way you’re so adept at doing so. There is only one… particularly potent pellet. Save it for the beast whose blood you know deep down you’re justified in spilling.”

Malak took it carefully, her expression unreadable, and Yamna wondered if this had been the wrong move after all. “Tell me,” Malak said slowly, stroking Hurairah, who was rubbing against her leg, “how something said to be impure has brought me nothing short of an angel.”

“I’m no angel,” Yamna said. “Merely a fellow woman who wants you free.”

“Stay?” It was no longer a desperate cry for company. Just a question. A request.

“You don’t need me to,” she said, pleased. “Not anymore.”

When the hunt left, Yamna trailed them from the sky. Naturally, she found her brother in the preserves without having to look too hard. His hair, frazzled, stuck out in every direction, and even the ready net in his hands was misshapen.

“You’re here!” he cried out. Yamna braced herself for the captain's reprimand. “Thank the skies… do you know how hard it is to keep these men preoccupied? I can do nothing without you, Yamna, I need you! I need your misfired weapons, and first resort to violence, and—”

The initial shock of the admission hit Yamna like a flood; it was so strikingly mirrored with her own innermost feelings. Once it faded, Yamna shot forward and enveloped Jabbar in a hug. “None of that will be necessary,” she promised. “The mission is over.”

“Wh—” He tried to break free of the hug to look around, but couldn’t shake Yamna’s iron grip. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

“Nothing!” she answered happily. “That’s the remarkable part.”

With impeccable timing, a bang resounded a few thickets back, followed by glorious, disgustingly familiar scream. Laughing, Yamna grabbed her brother by the hand and flew in the direction of the noise.

From the green canopy, they could make out a woman and a large cat, calmly and precisely smoothing over a patch of ground that was slightly off-color, like it had been dug up.

Crimson liquid mixed with the raging embers of Yamna’s magic, scattered throughout the scene as a lovely garnish. The gun had worked. 

Malak turned her gaze to the sky, mouthing a silent yet treasured, “Thank you.”

That smile alone gave Yamna such immeasurable satisfaction, she didn't even care that she hadn't seen the man die herself.

“This was your new entertainment?” Jabbar said, his voice heavy with incredulity and awe. “You are truly unmatched.”

She gave him a half bow, proud. “Never underestimate the power of pleasure, brother,” she said. “Now, Orion’s hunt is at an end. What's our next game?”

[javaghoul]

2 3 and 8 for Kaneki Ken :))))

i am ASTOUNDED that you requested Kaneki, one would assume he is your favourite character 🤔

Kaneki & 2: Ideal Day

His perfect day would go something like this:

Wake up at a decent time. I don't think he's a lazy lie in guy, nor an early bird, but I think he appreciates waking up naturally without an alarm or being screamed at by someone.

I think a good start to his day would be peace and quiet. Ken is tolerant of other people and their noise for one reason: he makes sure he has nothing but his own company first thing in the morning. Just him, coffee, and a book.

I guess book shopping is cliche, right? I think books of some kind would play a role in a good day, but not necessarily hanging out at a book shop. If he isn't burnt out from people, spending time with friends doing what they want to do would be something he'd enjoy. He's a guy that can have fun sitting on the sidelines, so watching his friends having fun doing their thing is entertainment for him.

That said, he definitely doesn't want to be around others all day. Even before his ghoulification when he was near isolated from everyone, Kaneki would still need solo time. Space and privacy to mooch around his apartment in his boxers and t-shirt, going between reading and tv.

In general: an easy going, PEACEFUL day.

Kaneki & 3: How they cope with worry

he doesn't.

One of the things about Ken is he is so used to being in fight or flight mode, he doesn't even register he is worried about something. The initial stages of worry that 'normal' people go through is his baseline, so he handles worry differently to most.

It comes down to what the issue is. If it's something trivial, I think he can be an ostrich - buries his head in the sand and lets it happen until it happens to him so bad he can't avoid it. He's very good at distracting himself.

For more serious problems, I think he works himself into such a state that nothing gets done. And by nothing I mean nothing - he doesn't eat (when he was human), he flits from one thing to another without really achieving anything, and cannot switch off at all. This is one area where having Hide as a friend really complimented Ken's personality: despite appearing as a bit of an air head, Hide is good at bringing perspective, and either giving Ken a kick up the ass to motivate him to do something, or shout him down to calm him down.

I definitely think he uses breathing techniques which he would've had to YouTube (y'know, since he never had any decent caretakers to show him how to handle stress).

Kaneki & 8: toxic traits

He's secretive. VERY secretive. He isn't deceptive enough to completely mask that *something* is going on, but there's enough there to leave a friend or s/o suspecting something is ticking away in his skull. He'll seem distracted and not all there, distant from relationships... Then one day he'll just be totally fine again. You won't get any info or explanation from him either.

Also, he allows himself to get so burnt out it's like he ENJOYS it. This goes hand in hand with how he deals with worry. Ken isn't great at looking after himself at all, if that isn't obvious.

[foodsies4me]

Losing my mind at Warlock gang being besties with Alec and keeping Magnus soulmate safe 🥹

I am equally as invested in hybrids Alec cause the possibiliitiessss. You’ve done it again and again (and will do again)

We love soul mate Malec <3

I love me a hybrid Alec so much.😂 Also I am like two seconds away from writing teen!Alec’s magic lessons with Alec just to have the comparison with adult!Alec’s lessons with Magnus and Ragnor.

Writing Ragnor from being all « I will never like or accept this kid » to semi-adopting Alec was pretty fun. Also Raphael will be insulted he wasn’t notified about Alec getting hurt because the snarky brat is insufferable but he’s also one of Raphael’s now which means he should have been alerted.

Meanwhile Magnus is completely unaware his friends have all adopted his soulmate because he’s too busy being an Ostrich and sticking his head into sand.

[legionofpotatoes]

extremely bad faith mandalorian takes, do not engage please i cannot stop hysterically laughing at this season and thus am incapable of level-headed discourse. these are just words I want to write down to see if they look as unbelievable as they sound in my head

my favorite telltale sign of the embarrassing s3 story optics is their like. genuinely hilarious ostrich-neck-in-the-sand rehash of past story arcs down to the aesthetic fucking beats. that's the shit sandwich that really gets me in this whole stank buffet. It is astonishing. Like there was genuinely nothing else they could come up with as to not upset the status quo of their fickle, marketable story limbo, and so they, and I cannot stress this part enough, ignored established character progression beats and just did them again. they just did them again. from the top, using shockingly similar payoffs, right in front of our own eyes. and I just sat there and ate it!!

din has to re-love his toxic death cult after clearly progressing away from their value systems cause he's cooler with that helmet always on. gotta keep the limbo going. his main north star, set up as his way out of said cult, gets recruited into it instead, completely defanging the possibility of interrogating the entire bedrock of trauma and insecurity that kept uncomfortably clashing with his expressions of love and humanity in the past. now they're all one big happy gel of a Cool Dude With Gun and Kid. gotta keep the limbo going.

at some point he also has to re-learn his droid prejudices to then re-unlearn them again, a couple of times even, for no discernible thematic reason other than to make him act like an ass to some type of botched working class allegories (??? the fuck is going on with droids this season in general??). gotta keep the limbo going.

grogu, meanwhile, has to re-earn a mandalorian piece of armor to re-reinforce his allegiance (and here I was thinking the rond would be a pulpy setup for some shot-dead-fake-out but how can chekov's anything exist in this mangled mess), cause mandalorian culture is a live service videogame of tiered ranks now, so the potential upgrades are conveniently endless. gotta keep the limbo going. speaking of their culture, he also, hilariously, has to then be re-adopted by din to re-reveal their paternal bond and re-dramatize their love. cause he's not a foundling anymore, see; he's an apprentice now! the words are different. that makes the emotional meaning reset also. I know this from film school. audiences have no object permanence, right? they're all fish? we're writing this show for fucking fish, right? like in the aquariums? gotta keep the limbo going.

and they just keep doing this. they will dress it all up with technicalities and loud Plot Noise but it is all emotionally the same exact shit that has already happened and it is making me feel insane. same exact payoffs for backpedaled setups that were already, for all storytelling purposes, finished and done away with. it is comical. they're telling nothing. non-stories and recursive sisyphean plotlines that reset primitive character arcs every five episodes like it's the most unmoored bermuda triangle-ass time loop in space. you cannot even really twist it into some type of harmless expression in lieu of episodic TV, or even something more campy, cause like. it does have a rapidly progressing plotline about big and overarching stuff, stuff that is holistic, linear, and goal-oriented, like retaking homeworlds and reforging their broken nation and fighting mr gideon man. it's not a weekly detective romp with B plots galore, not anymore at least. but the characters somehow start and end in the same spots they always were. like the big ole smoking fucking gun that that is.

it feels like the most clear-cut example of plot moving forward - at breakneck speed sometimes - while characters progress either backwards or just. like. sideways and then back again?? almost like dropping a teabag into an empty mug and calling it a beverage. I see the pretty taste-making ingredient sitting sadly at the bottom there, but where's the substance? what is this all for? to wank it to how cool mandalorians look when they fly? I mean they can be pretty cool, no argument there. but some of them could be cooler if they felt things deeply and that changed them, fundamentally. you know, how A-to-B storytelling does sometimes.

and I am achingly aware that I am aging out of this show's target audience, I know that. but the death by comparison within the same bloody show's adjacent seasons is just as harrowing. what happened. it just worked too good is what. a corporation responsible for telling a myth will never allow it to finish if it suddenly starts hemorrhaging this much money. grogu and din can't progress, even aesthetically, past their season 1 selves, no matter how much that same season's story was setting them up to. cause inscrutable sad dad and cute doll baby combo. we'll either throw away those story hooks or keep resetting them. keep the limbo going.

groundhog day-ass show. it's hysterical. I can't be normal about how mask-off blatant this all is now.

and to follow this up to andor of all things. really clinches it, you know. no notes. just no notes, disney. tens across the board

[silverefflux]

Transitions

Chapter 3 of my König x Fem!OC fic, Rush

See Chapter List

Photo by Markus Winkler

Summary: Would you consider this a hangout or a date?

Warning: impending panic attack (or probably already was one), mentions of mental illness

A/N: more balance with fluff + mentions of angsty things

. . .

Glue Song // beabadoobee ft. Clairo

It’s only midday yet Dominik lay curled up in the bed in his apartment, his hands fidgeting with his phone and eyes drilling holes into the wall next to him. For the past ten minutes, he fell into a pattern of unlocking his phone, typing something, glaring at the screen, deleting his words, then locking his phone again. In the course of his anxiety, he may or may not roll over to his other side, only to do the same thing all over.

“It makes sense, I swear. If you can snap a terrorist’s spine in half, you can send her the first text this time,” Hong-jin taunted as he sat on a lounge chair right across from him.

“If I send this she’s going to think I’m creepy,” he replied.

“Come on,” Hong-jin groaned, “Just fuckin’ talk to her.”

“Yeah I am, I am!” Dominik hissed and looked at his phone for a few seconds. Hong-jin leaned forward and tilted his head, squinting his eyes at his friend.

“Anytime now.”

“I’m thinking!” he shot back, turning his back against him.

The back-and-forth continued for fifteen or so minutes until Dominik had to call for a timeout and made a beeline for the bathroom, leaving his phone on the bed. With a sigh and an eye roll, Hong-jin seized the opportunity to take the phone and unlock it.

“How was your flight?” he typed.

Send.

. . .

Meanwhile, Kate dragged her small trolley bag across the train station when her phone pinged. She smiled at the fresh notification and settled herself down on a bench. “Tall Boy’s a little chatty today. Might as well take a seat,” she thought to herself.

If only she knew about the chaos ensuing behind this seemingly meek conversation.

“You sent her an invite?!” Dominik stood with smoke fuming out of his ears.

“Yeah. You’re welcome,” Hong-jin smirked.

Dominik flopped back onto the bed and ran his palm over his face. “What the fuck have you done?”

“I took the weight off your chest.”

“And replaced it with a heavier one! This is not what I planned for today!” 

Hong-jin blew a raspberry and waved a hand off. “Ah please, keep it laid back. It’s just a hangout.”

Hong-jin crossed his legs, then glanced at his watch and out the window. “Fine day for these two to go on a date,” he mused. On the other hand, his buddy stayed frozen on the bed, his face engulfed by a pillow. The sight reminded him of how ostriches were said to bury their heads in the sand when they felt like they’re in danger.

Hong-jin took a deep breath. “You have two hours—”

“Leave me alone,” Dominik interjected, his voice slightly muffled by his pillow.

“All right, all right. I’m outside if you need help,” Hong-jin replied calmly.

A little while later, Dominik opened the door slightly.

“This is so stupid to ask, but what should I say first?” he said, scratching his head.

Hong-jin clapped his hands in delight and put a game face on. “Okay, pretend I’m her. What would you say?”

A pause from Dominik, then the door slammed shut.

Hong-jin grimaced. This guy’s a retired colonel?

The door opened again.

“Okay, so I say, ‘hey, how’s it going?’, then what?”

. . . 

“Pretty good, thanks. You been to this cafe before?” Kate responded as she took a seat.

“Ja, the owner was my batchmate in training,” he replied, trying his best to resist retreating to his phone.

At first, the conversations between Kate and Dominik went as he practiced with Hong-jin. Getting their food and drinks ordered first, then asking the questions about her work, first impressions on Frankfurt so far, and go-to drinks. Then the unanticipated questions from Kate swooped in, and she began to ask about his military life. When she asked what he does now that he’s retired, he worried even more than he already did.

“Now she’s going to be scared of me,” he thought.  He had to come up with some way to describe his work without disclosing too much.

“I work in security.”

Kate didn’t look fazed. Only confused.

“Oh. Like as a bodyguard, or contracting or something?”

“Uhh…yeah.”

There was a second or two silence between both of them. Kate was looking at the corner of the table with a contemplating look on her face.

Was that a crappy thing to say to her?

Kate looked back at him, finally coming up with a reply. “So like, how does that work? As in schedule-wise?”

“Depends on the contract, really. Ninety days, a year…could be anything.”

“Interesting,” Kate remarked. Okay, vague answers. Maybe not now but there’s something there.

Meanwhile, Dominik is lost in thought. What does she mean when she says “interesting”???

Just in time to cut the tension, a sports car roared by which made them both lean over and stare. When it was far off, they looked back at each other and smiled.

“Damn, that’s pretty,” Kate sighed.

“The sound of a V10. Do you like cars?” Dominik said back.

“Oh I don’t know much about cars. Just appreciate an engine that purrs,” Kate replied with a snicker, “You?”

“Well—same, only a little,” Dominik said. Deep down, he found it cute that she leaned over to check out the car too.

“So, when you have some free time, what do you do? Any hobbies?” she asked with genuine curiosity, a move that surprised him when he was already assuming she would back off already after hearing about his job.

“Just playing video games and collecting Bearbricks. You?”

“Biking and makeup. Not that I’m good at it, I just enjoy it a lot,” she said enthusiastically.

Then a plate fell on the floor, which made a loud crashing noise. A waiter was carrying it on a tray when he bumped into a customer who was rushing somewhere else. As everyone dropped dead silent to stare at the little incident, Dominik was falling onto the brink of panic caused by a mix of the unplanned questions, the loud car, the almost explosive noise of the plate, and the feeling of embarrassment over him bringing Kate to a cafe he was sure of, only for that small fiasco to happen.

He swallowed dryly as his breathing began to grow rapidly. His chest was starting to feel as if someone was stepping on it. Upon looking around, he felt as if there were eyes from all over the cafe locked onto him.

The silence is deafening.

Stop looking at me.

He was fidgeting with the tablecloth and staring off into the exit, ready to run or fight, when Kate noticed the look of distress on his face.

“You okay?” she asked. No response.

Is he panicking? Think quick, Kate. Try anything before it gets worse.

She tried fishing for anything novel in her handbag.

Pen? Nope, might hurt himself.

This pompom bag charm? Good but nah, I love this thing.

Wallet, nope. Lip balm, nope. Tissues, nope.

Wait—what’s this bracelet doing here? Ok fine.

“Hey Nik!” she called his attention then shook a closed hand at him, offering something. He looked at her in confusion, but took what’s in her hand anyway. He looked and found a bracelet made of braided thread and uniformly round, red beads.

“What’s this?”

She eyed her side. “Uhhh…bracelet? You can fidget around with it, or just keep it,” she answered with a smile before nonchalantly asking, “You okay?”

He paused, trying to regain some air. He toyed with the bracelet and its beads stuck to each other with a sharp clicking sound that he quite liked. He pocketed the bracelet then nodded swiftly, “Yeah. I think yeah.”

She wasn’t convinced, though. She almost guessed what that was about, but didn’t want to assume. “You got it. Deep breaths,” she coached with a soft voice, to which he obliged.

One deep breath. And two. Three. Four.

“What time is it?” she asked him.

He shakily raised his hand. Not wearing my watch. He clenched his fist, then fished for his phone and looked at its lockscreen. “Ehh…4:43,” he responded bemusedly. He massaged in circles on his temples, unsure if they were hurting, if he was drowsy, or both.

She shrugged. “Ah, okay. Monday right?”

“No, Tuesday,” he said, still looking at his phone. Running his hand over his face once, he took one more deep breath. When he felt a little more in control of himself, he continued. “Sorry about that. Whew, what happened there?” he sat up with a nervous chuckle.

She waved her hands at him and smiled. “Please, don’t worry about it. You looked like you panicked though. Really clutching at the table there.”

“Was I? Danke by the way.”

“It’s nothing. Wanna take a walk?”

Exactly what I need. This place is suffocating me right now. “Yeah sure.”

They paid the bill together and took to the streets. Kate was glad they went out. Can’t let a cool afternoon like this go to waste. There were definitely more people outside, but not too crowded as most people were probably still at work. On top of that, the space of the sidewalks made up for it. Much to Kate’s relief, Dominik looked more at ease, but the walk was still filled with silence until he broke it.

“I’m sorry about earlier. It still bothers me, what I did,” he said, running a hand across the back of his head and setting his sights on the pavement.

“Hey don’t worry about it too much, it’s no big deal,” she looked up at him and replied. Then after a beat, she said, “Besides, I have a brother who has social anxiety so I’ve seen it before. You just figure out how to help a bit eventually.”

He met her eyes, his brows raised in interest. A slight lump went up his throat. “Oh. Older or younger?”

“Younger. By seven years.”

“Now is not the time to think of your brother. At least not too much,” she told herself.

“Okay, now is not the time to think of your sister,” he thought.

His mind went into a stir. To him, Kate having a little brother with social anxiety meant one of two things: either she understood what it was like and helped care for her brother a lot, or she was just like his sister—cold, distant, and mean. Nevertheless, he was curious to see what it was like for someone like her to grow up with someone who might’ve been like him.

“What’s he like growing up? Your brother?”

Ah shit. Keep it candid but light, I guess, she thought.

With a sigh, she began to explain, “Well, he was pretty lively until he turned, like, thirteen or fourteen. We were raised as sheltered kids, and that’s not a good combo with getting bullied by other kids, and having the adults in your life be really busy.” The sentence hit too close to home for him. He kept his hands in his pockets as Kate did her best to explain as stoically as she could.

“He wasn’t the type to fight back, so he just started locking up in his room a lot and panicking over even the smallest interactions. Or the slightest change of plans. So he couldn’t really do some of those things you’d expect a kid his age to be able to do, like buying at a store or saying hello to guests at home. But we got him to therapy and we tried to help build his confidence, you know?”

Dominik listened intently, reminiscing about his troubled childhood. It was sad to hear of another kid going through what he did, but he believed that somehow this kid seemed a little luckier. He wasn’t as blessed with solid family ties, so the only thing he could do was run to the military for refuge. So he could live by his own means, away from the cruelty he faced in his town and within his home.

“That’s good to hear. Hopefully he wasn’t too much to handle?” he faltered. Whether he was genuinely intrigued by Kate’s brother or by how he would’ve seemed in the eyes of his family, he had to say anything just to hear more.

Kate shot him a baffled look but gave his comment some benefit of the doubt. “Hell no, not too much, though it wasn’t always easy figuring out what he needs. Sometimes we’d be out for dinner, then the slightest off-tone in the conversation and he’d be fighting to go home. But yeah, least you can do is be there to support anyway,” she continued.

“I hope he’s better now?” he asked.

“He’s kinda better, yeah. Always been really sweet. He’s the type to always offer some of his snacks and shit before he takes some for himself. He’ll make sure everyone’s got what they need. Really smart and artistic too. He took painting lessons, and he’s an absolute geek over military history. A lot of times in his history classes, he knew more than his teachers did.”

She gave herself an imaginary pat on the back for the mild-mannered translation of the sacrifices and challenges she went through. Of the frustration over thrown efforts. Of triumph over little improvements. Of exhaustion in putting everyone before herself. Of agony in the leadership role she was forced to embrace.

She felt deep love for her family, but there was also a deep need to take a break and just be a girl instead of the sister, the eldest daughter, or the second mother. There were times when her brother would think that nobody would cry for him, and for one, she was glad he didn’t see much of the pain her parents felt after finding out about his mental state, but she felt like it was mainly because Big Sister was there to handle it for him behind the closed doors of their parents’ room.

“You’re a good sister,” he remarked.

“Thanks,” she murmured, “God, I hope so.”

Musings aside, she had to move forward anyway, like she always did. There was still Frankfurt, and a conversation that she was holding. She cleared her throat. “So, Bearbricks huh? Like those little plastic bear figurines?” she asked Dominik, bringing the tone back to light and lively.

“Ja—though not all of it is little,” Dominik replied with a smile. “Some are up to this tall,” he said, gesturing to about the height of a toddler.

“How many do you have already?”

“Five.”

“Oh dang, that’s interesting. You got any pictures?” she said.

She’s…actually interested?

He took his phone and showed her pictures of his little collection as they kept walking around the city. He was expecting her to nod and say shallow praises about them—or even just to shun the idea of him collecting what other people would call “little plastic toys”. But she actually asked things like she wanted to know about them more, like where he bought it or which one was his favorite. She would ask him what made them special, and even shared the little knowledge she knew about Bearbricks, the brands she saw who designed them, the last figurine that she saw in some place she traveled to.

He felt like she genuinely cared about what he had to say, no matter how dull or niche, and it made his stomach flutter with excitement. She was someone he could talk to for hours about the geekiest things and she would still engage in the conversation.

Suddenly, he saw some odd sparkle in her dark brown eyes that he couldn’t quite name. And he could notice the small lines at the corners of her eyes whenever she smiled. Her pink nails that had rhinestones in the middle. The way she walked with her chin up and eyes straight ahead, so seemingly sure of herself. Suddenly, she was a little more interesting, like she wasn’t only some random girl he met at a hike and had to meet again at the cafe.

“Do you have plans later this evening?” he blurted out.

That was a pleasant surprise for her—one that she unfortunately couldn’t accept. “Ooh, sorry I’m flying back to Vienna at ten, so I gotta prep my things then be at the airport by eight. Thanks, though.”

He looked at the time. “I see, well it’s half past five. Do you have enough time to get ready?” he asked her with concern.

“It’s 5:30?!” she looked at him wide-eyed. “Why is it so bright?” she asked rhetorically.

“The sun sets probably a little later than you’d expect here,” he replied, dropping his shoulders at how unprepared she seemed for this place, “I could walk you to the station if you’d like—have you booked a train ticket?”

She shook her head.

Oida.

“You better reserve a seat now. Wait, you know what? My place is nearby. You want me to help you out?”

Kate was still reeling from her apparently-distorted sense of time, and now the realization that she should’ve bought a ticket sooner. “Yes please, and thanks,” she huffed. Sure enough, they reached his apartment after a few more minutes of walking.

His home was rather modest, filled with grays, whites, and browns. It wasn’t laden with a lot of decor, only having the basics: the couch, TV, tables, rugs, and the bare-bones of a kitchen, but the orderliness made it look good. They sat on the couch and Dominik told Kate where to book her tickets earlier, plus some added insight on which train lines go where. Afterwards, he got up to head to the fridge, returning with glasses of water for each of them.

“There you go,” he said as he offered a glass to her, “Now you won’t have to worry about standing up on the train ride.”

“I really appreciate this. Thanks again,” she said, taking a sip.

“So if you’re at the Hauptbahnhof at 6:28, you’ll be at the Airport Station by 6:39. Then you’ll probably have enough time to pick your things up at the hotel and get to the airport shortly before eight,” he explained nonchalantly.

“Sounds good,” she lilted, “Though I might need to grab a quick meal along the way.”

He pressed his lips into a tight-lipped smile. “The sandwich shop at the corner, the one we just passed before we got here? Pretty decent.”

Kate only stared at him, barely remembering any sandwich place, and slightly nervous about the fact that she might have to go there alone. “Right, I’ll go find it later,” she said sheepishly.

“I could go with you if you like, then we could walk to the station,” he offered.

She tilted her head at him. “Thanks, Nik. But in like, five minutes, though. My feet are almost done for the day,” she joked.

“Sure,” he replied with a chuckle. He barely realized how much he walked with her around the city, and she still had to fly back.

After they set the glasses aside, they strolled to the sandwich shop and got their food, which they ate while walking to the train station. They chatted about possible new hiking spots where they and Hong-jin could go together, and some noodles that Kate found in Innsbruck the day after that first hike and were apparently her favorite.

“I’m gonna trust in your gauge of your spice tolerance, because I swear you guys gotta try it. If we’re hiking, I’m definitely bringing some,” she said cheerfully.

“I would love that,” he replied. Then the train that Kate was going to board had just zoomed in.

She offered a fist at him. “See you around, maybe?”

He bumped his fist back. “Yeah, hopefully. Have a safe flight.”

“You too—I mean thanks,” she cut herself back with laughter.

Kate stepped onto the train wishing they had more time to hang out. Turns out, he was not just some tall, reserved guy with the pretty blue eyes to her, but also someone who had quite an interesting personality. It was interesting to find a colonel who played PC games and collected Bearbricks, of all things. Also, she would be lying to herself if she said he didn’t remind her of her brother with his behavior at the hike and the cafe, though she couldn’t assume whether Dominik had some mental condition. And while him panicking wasn’t a good thing in the slightest, she found the show of vulnerability oddly refreshing. Maybe I’ve just had it with all the macho energy in the cockpit.

Meanwhile, Dominik watched as Kate stepped onto the train and found her seat. She was long gone when he realized a soft smile still lingered on his face, and that in the sea of poker faces, he might’ve stood out like a giant clown. He wiped his expression, then looked down at his sandwich and took a bite as he turned around to walk back to his apartment.

Maybe I’m not as lazy to clean the house in Himberg anymore.

. . .

A/N: How y'all likin my Arachnid bracelet cameo/HC origin story?

[freebooter4ever]

even though i am sticking my head in the sand like an ostrich i have been made vaguely aware that whoever gets the second wildcard spot will play new york and... yeah.

[toastess-with-the-mostess]

Let's Rewind! Toast Watches Voltron: Defender of the Universe (1984)

Season 1, Episode 41: There Will Be A Royal Wedding Season 1, Episode 42: The Sand People

Episode 41: There Will Be A Royal Wedding I think I recognize this episode title, PART THREE LETS GOO

recap timeee

THERE HE IS SVEN IS SO BACK

"I am a wild man, I live in this tunnel eating roots and mushrooms!" SVEN PLEASE

Romelle recognizes him!

Oh god, he's breaking down over his trauma for getting hurt and trying to heal but then he got enslaved all over again without being able to fight and still hurting

the start of the only couple ever, Keith and Allura could never happen because Keith would never stop self sabotaging himself and Sven is willing to be a malewife

he's so scared to call the force because he's scared of them seeing him broken like that he's calling them anyway

WHY IS ALLURA IN A TAN DRESS?? WHAT HAPPENED

oh an escaped slave ship full of slaves is getting recaptured

"do you think princess Ro-MEAL could survive down there?" Zarkon PRONOUNCE HER NAME RIGHT

oh also they're planning to take over Pollux while she's gone

WHY DO THEY KEEP CALLING HER RO-MEAL

new robeast, it's literally an iron woman that they called iron maiden pretty cool though OH GOD IS SHE CRUSHING PEOPLE IN HER HANDS?? THAT'S HORRIFYING

Romelle is trying to stop it, but Sven is stopping her because if she shows herself then their whole plan is fucked time to steal another slave ship to get her home!

The doomites have worse aim than storm troopers

poor Romelle she's crying for the other slaves who helped her and Sven escape, nobody else was able to make it with them BUT THEY GOT IN CONTACT WITH THE TEAM AND THEY'RE MEETING UP

voltron formed up early,,, it's getting serious folks

"so she wouldn't have me, but she runs away with some slave!" WHY ARE YOU SALTY ABOUT THAT LOTOR

Romelle and Bandor finally get to speak again, JUST GET THOSE BABIES TOGETHER DAMN IT

space battle with the iron maiden guys please you spoke too early now the real fight is starting with her gold form instead of her silver one

that's a cool attack, the crown tied up voltron after it hit his head

WHY IS BANDOR OUT THERE WITH A SINGLE SHIP THIS IS WHY HE GOT HIT

oh wow Voltron is taking such a bad beating Sven doesn't even want to help but Romelle is girlbossing so hard he can't help say yes

Voltron is freed by dumb luck, formed up blazing sword and the fight is over with a lot of explosions

Now they're back on Pollux and Romelle and Bandor finally get to hug again! Sven is officially Romelle's malewife "she gave me back my life" GOD HE'S SO IN LOVE

this episode went by so fast

/episode end

Episode 42: The Sand People oh man I remember some stuff from this episode

OH NOW YOU WANNA CARE ABOUT OTHER PLANETS CORAN

sand people lore: they're timid and sweet people and look like turtles Zarkon wants to turn them into weapons

"my horoscope tells now the time to be nasty" ZARKON'S LISTENS TO HIS HOROSCOPE?? ASTROLOGIST ZARKON CONFIRMED

PIDGE OSTRICHED INTO THE SAND AS GREEN THAT'S SO CUTE also Keith told him bless you after he sneezed, they're adorable

how are the team getting sand peoples tracks to scan on it accurately so can the lions 'smell' in order to do scans?

UNIDENTIFIED MY ASS, THAT SHIP HAS SKULL ON IT, IT'S FROM DOOM oh cool underground base- NO PIDGE GOT TAKEN DOWN BY SNAKES

ARE THEY UNSCREWING GREENS LIMBS FROM HER?

PIDGE STOP QUESTIONING PEOPLE WHO ARE GIVING YOU ADVICE ON HOW TO GET OUT OF AN ATTACK I KNOW ROMELLE ACCIDENTALLY BETRAYED YOU BUT STILL

oh the sand people definitely died if they got taken by those snakes

Pidge saying he needs to call them team, but Keith was already running towards his location He knows when his son is in trouble,,, there was a disturbance in the force

what are they even riding, I think those are the most alien looking things we've seen in this show ever

wow they really are like turtles, digging underground Allura is already treating them like puppies

I know they're trying to make the sand people humanized, but they're treating them like toddlers or animals

Allura wore a bracelet under her gloves this whole time? Well it's a gift to that one sand person now

"all sand tanks in formation!" all tanks are for the sand dipshit,, they have caterpillar treads

god now i'm humming one of the themes of the show

LMAO DO THEY KEEP COMMS OPEN SO LOTOR AND THE FORCE CAN TALK SHIT TOWARDS EACH OTHER SO PETTY

wow just like the first episode, everyone as their heads in the sand after being smacked back into the ground

THE TANKS CAN FLY?

Is avalanche just a word for snow? Because the team is getting covered with a ton of falling sand and I feel like avalanche fits for these scenes

Lotor grabbed one of them to turn into a robeast OH NO THE POOR BOY IS SO SCARED, AND HE'S THE ONE WITH PRINCESS ALLURA'S BRACELET

does yellow lion have fire breath?

How do the doomites know what Earth moles are

HOW ARE YOU GONNA STOP GIANT ROBOTS BY SHOOTING AT THEM WITHOUT A SHIP

THE COCKPITS HAVE SAND PEOPLE IN THEM NOW, THEY'RE SO CUTE

how is that bracelet still on the sand person, that some weak ass magic if it can't break metal Allura named him sandy

she's trying so hard to call out to him, but they have to form voltron anyway, this is going to get so depressing

oh they realized the S on him was keeping that robeast transformation on him so they ripped it off, and now he's in a "coma"

nobody ever dies in dotu

/episode end

[wobblewokgaming]

Yo-kai Watch Incorrect Quotes, part 1

Mary-Lou: I'm gonna get myself some soup.

Nate: Be careful not to burn yourself, it's hot.

Mary-Lou: Pfft, I-I won't burn myself!

*thirty seconds later*

Mary-Lou: I burned myself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buck, confused and scared, holding Hailey close to him: W-Watcha got there...?

Nate, petting an ostrich: A smoothie.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Justin: I think this might be a bad idea...

Wyatt: Don't start thinkin' on me now!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Justin, nervous: So uh, for this party and everything, do you, uh...

Sue-Ellen, sighing: You don't know how to dress for this, do you?

Justin, panicking: WHAT IS CLOTHES???

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nate, sniffing: Calm down, I'm probably not sick. It might just be allergies.

Sue-Ellen: Okay, tell me this: are you, like, really tired?

Nate: I have depression, what do you think?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nate, after challenging the Zenlightener and loosing for the 50th time: I CAN'T DO IT, HAILEY!

Hailey: I CAN'T EITHER!

Nate: I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE!

Buck: WELL, I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITH WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US!

Nate: I appreciate it.

Nate, gesturing to Zenlightener, who looks confused and scared: BUT LOOK AT WHAT WE'RE FUCKING DEALING WITH, GUYS!

Hailey, barely containing her laughter: Nate-

Nate: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Buck, failing to hold his laughter in as well: Nate, w-we gotta-

Nate: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND, DUDES!

Nate: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY "what am I willing to put up with today"?

Nate, feral and foaming at the mouth, ferociously pointing at a horrified Zenlightener as Hailey and Buck look on dumbfounded while laughing: NOT FUCKING THIS!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hailey: We're kinda missing something, guys.

Wyatt: Cohesion?

Sue-Ellen: Teamwork?

Mary-Lou: A general sense of what we're doing?

Buck: And Nate ain't here.

Wyatt: Oh, and that, yeah.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nate, to the BBQ Squad: I'd die for you.

Wyatt: Then perish.

Justin: You will.

Mary-Lou: P-please don't!

Buck: Cool!

Sue-Ellen: I'd die for you first.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hailey, getting shot by Jessica during Laser Tag: I have been tricked, I have been backstabbed, and I might've quite possibly been bamboozled.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nate: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Hailey: I'm a knife.

Buck, from across the room: She's the little spoon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mary-Lou and Sue-Ellen: We're this close to falling in love with Nate.

Buck: Y-your fingertips are touching.

Mary-Lou and Sue-Ellen: Exactly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buck: Why's everyone so obsessed with top and bottom? Honestly, I'd just be excited to have a bunk bed!

Hailey:

Hailey, with a shit-eating grin: I'm gonna tell him.

Nate, smacking her upside the head: Don't you dare.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zenlightener, cowering in fear: WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!

Nate, Buck and Hailey standing in front of Zenlightener: *bites into their whole Kit-Kat Bars like a group of heathens with shit-eating grins on their faces*

Zenlightener, with tears in his eyes: Please, stop!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buck, to Sue-Ellen, gesturing to Whisper: How do you tell someone politely that you want to hit them with a brick?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Police Officer, cuffing Dorothy: You have the right to remain silent.

Dorothy: I choose to waive that right.

Dorothy: *screams like a fucking banshee*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nate, to Whisper: My expectations are low, but they can go lower.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buck, pointing at a wall: What color is this?

Dorothy: Gray.

Nate: Grey.

Buck turning to Hailey: Now tell them what color you think it is.

Hailey: Dark white.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little Charrmer: Listen up, you little shits!

Little Charrmer, looking at Nate: Not you Nate, you're an angel and we're thrilled you're here.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jawsome Kid, Dr. E. Raser and Nate: *screaming incoherently*

Little Charrmer, busting the door down: What's wrong, Nate?!

Dr. E. Raser: Wait, why are you asking Nate that when when Jawsome Kid and I are also here?

Agent Spect-Hare, peeking out from the broken door frame: Because Nate wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you get the chance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Computer: Please enter a password.

Jawsome Kid: *types in Nate*

Computer: Your password is too weak.

Jawsome Kid: How fucking DARE YOU-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ghoulfather: What're you writin'?

Nate: The Government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm not letting them know, it's private information!

Hoaxy Coaxy, looking over Nate's shoulder: This just says "fuck around and find out" in calligraphy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little Charrmer: I wasn't that drunk!

Nate: You colored my face with a highlighter because you said "I was important".

Little Charrmer, hugging Nate while crying: BECAUSE YOU ARE!

[echoes-of-kemet]

Do yu know what other animals were in ancient egypt? I want my oc to have a unique animal and you seem to know a fair amount

I am a well of ridiculous, hyperspecific, only interesting to some trivia lmao.

I would encourage you not to limit yourself to an entirely unique beast- many deities share sacred animals and are still strong individuals. My mind immediately goes to the huge number of feline deities- lions and lionesses in particular- for an example. Additionally, it's nigh impossible for me (with no academic anthropology/egyptology/historic zoology knowledge) to say for certain that particular animals were present in Kemet when they have no documented deities, mummies, or written mentions. I've had to guess for some, deduce by their present day habitats and more or less "timeline" of their species.

It's also important to keep in mind Kemet had contact with other civilizations in other habitats, meaning they were aware of animals not necessarily native to the area. A perfect example is the Hamadryas baboon- they were Nubian animals, but were sacred to both Thoth and Babi, depicted in art, and many mummies of the species have been recovered. A more surprising example is the Syrian brown bear, which was a rare exotic spectacle for the royal elite. There's also the trouble of many species now being extant from the area, meaning they were there but the local population is now extinct- the African sacred ibis is the example my mind comes to first, the waterfowl no longer present along the Nile.

Coincidentally, I've been compiling a list of animals for my own reference to supply a beast or two for the deities that don't have one in tradition. 

Birds

Abdim's Stork

African Darter

African Dwarf Kingfisher

African Grass Owl

African Open-billed Stork

African Pied Wagtail

African Sacred Ibis

Asian Green Bee-Eater

Barbary Falcon

Barbary Partridge

Barn Owl

Barn Swallow

Bearded Vulture

Bennu Heron (likely not an actual animal, the Bennu bird inspired by the Goliath Heron- but felt like including it anyhow)

Black Kite

Black Stork

Black-throated Loon

Black-winged Kite

Brown-necked Raven

Carrion Crow

Cattle Egret

Chukar Partridge

Common Buzzard

Common Cormorant

Common Crane

Common Greenshank

Common House Martin

Common Kestrel

Common Kingfisher

Common Pochard

Common Quail

Common Raven

Common Redshank

Common Redstart

Common Sandpiper

Common Spoonbill

Common Teal

Crab Plover

Crested Plover

Dalmatian Pelican

Demoiselle Crane

Eagle (I'm sure there were some, but I can't find any definitive evidence of species in the ancient Kemetic culture- I would take a guess that the Golden Eage was an infrequent visitor)

Egyptian Plover

Egyptian Vulture

European Roller (considered a pest)

European Turtle-dove

Eurasian Coot

Eurasian Crag Martin

Eurasian Teal

Eurasian Wigeon

Fan-tailed Raven

Ferruginous Duck

Gadwall

Garganey

Glossy Ibis

Golden Oriole

Goliath Heron

Great Bittern

Great Bustard

Great Cormorant

Great Egret

Great Spotted Cuckoo

Great White Pelican

Greater Flamingo (possibly not native)

Green Sandpiper

Grey Heron

Griffon Vulture

Helmeted Guineafowl (not native)

Hermit Ibis

Hobby Falcon

Honey Buzzard

Hooded Crow

Hoopoe

Houbara Bustard

House Crow

House Sparrow (pest, hieroglyph had negative connotation)

Kittliz's Plover

Lanner Falcon

Lappet-faced Vulture

Laughing Dove

Lesser Kestrel

Lesser Pied Kingfisher

Little Bittern

Little Bustard

Little Egret

Little Owl

Long-eared Owl

Long-legged Buzzard

Mallard

Marabou Stork

Marsh Sandpiper

Masked Shrike

Merlin

Mourning Wheatear

Northern Lapwing

Northern Pintail

Northern Shoveler

Ostrich

Pale Crag Martin

Peregrine Falcon

Pied Avocet

Pink-backed Pelican

Purple Gallinule

Purple Heron

Red Kite

Red-backed Shrike

Red-footed Falcon

Red-rumped Wheatear

Reed Cormorant

Ring-necked Dove

Rock Dove

Rook

Ruddy Shelduck

Saddle-bill Stork

Saker Falcon

Sandhill Crane

Sand Martin

Sand Partridge

Short-eared Owl

Spotted Redshank

Sooty Falcon

Squacco Heron

Striated Heron

Swan (not native)

Tawny Owl

Tufted Duck

Western Reef Heron

White-backed Night Heron

White-crowned Wheatear

White Stork

White Wagtail

Wood Sandpiper

Yellow-billed Stork

Mammals

Aardvark (possibly not native)

Aardwolf

Addax Antelope

African Clawless Otter

African Giant Shrew

African Green Monkey (not native)

African Grass Rat

African Leopard

African Striped Weasel

Arabian Oryx

Barbary Deer (not native)

Barbary Lion (now extinct)

Barbary Macaque (not native)

Black Rat

Common Patas Monkey (not native)

Black Rhinoceros

Blanford's Fox

Black Wildebeest

Bubal Hartebeest (now extinct)

Cairo Spiny Mouse

Cape Hare

Caracal

Cheetah

Common Beisa Oryx

Common Genet

Desert Hedgehog

Desert Long-eared Bat

Dorcas Gazelle

Desert Black Cobra

Egyptian Fruit Bat

Egyptian Jackal/African Wolf (originally misidentified, now the African Wolf)

Egyptian Mongoose

Egyptian Pipistrelle

Egyptian Red Fox

Egyptian Slit-faced Bat

Egyptian Tomb Bat

Egyptian Weasel

Egyptian Wild Ass 

Fennec Fox

Flower's Shrew

Four-toed Jerboa

Geoffroy's Horseshoe Bat

Gerenuk

Giraffe

Golden Spiny Mouse

Greater Egyptian Jerboa

Greater Mouse-tailed Bat

Greater Red Musk Shrew

Hamadryas Baboon (not native)

Hippopotamus

Honey Badger

House Mouse

Lesser Egyptian Jerboa

Lesser Mouse-tailed Bat

Long-eared Hedgehog

Long-nosed Shrew

North African/Bush Elephant (vilified and driven out by prehistoric Egyptians)

North African Crested Porcupine (not native)

Nubian Ibex (not native)

Olive Baboon (likely not native, sometimes called the Anubis Baboon)

Persian Fallow Deer (not native)

Rhim Gazelle

Rüppell's Fox

Sand Rat

Serval (likely not native, but Ra was depicted as one)

Scimitar Oryx

Soemmerring's Gazelle

Somali Dwarf Shrew

Spotted Hyena

Spotted-necked Otter

Striped Hyena

Syrian Brown Bear (not native)

Wild Boar

White Rhinoceros

Yellow Baboon (not native, species' epithet means 'dog-head' in Greek)

Vervet Monkey

Reptiles

African Chameleon

African Rock Python

Arabian Horned Viper

Desert Horned Viper

Desert Monitor Lizard

Egyptian Cobra

Egyptian Gecko

Egyptian Sand Boa

Egyptian Sand Racer

Egyptian Tortoise

Javelin Sand Boa

Insects/Arachnids/Etc.

Nile Crocodile

Nile Soft-shelled Turtle

Red Spitting Cobra

Saharan Sand Viper

Amphibians

African Common Toad

European Green Toad

Marsh Frog

Mascarene Grass Frog

Nile Delta Toad

Nile Valley Toad

Camel Spider

Banded Garden Spider

Brown Widow Spider

Carpenter Ant

Centipede

Click Beetle

Common Housefly (NOT considered a pest, actually revered as a protector)

Danaid Eggfly

Desert Ant

Desert Locust

Devil's Coach Horse Beetle

Dorippus Tiger Butterfly

Dragonfly

Flea

Fire Ant

Jewel Beetle

Gaudy Commodore Butterfly

Half-edged Wall Jumping Spider

Large Salmon Arab Butterfly

Maggot/Carrion Fly

Migratory Locust

Messor Ant

Millipede

Red-breasted Goose

Mosquito (pest)

Moths in the Saturniidae family

Palestine Yellow Scorpion

Pantropical Jumping Spider

Pharaoh Ant

Plain Tiger Butterfly

Praying Mantis

Scarab Beetle

Sinai Baton Blue Butterfly

Southern White Admiral Butterfly

Scorpions in the Buthidae and Scorpionidae families

Water Scorpion

Fish, Mollusks, etc. (Keep in mind fish were taboo in Kemet)

Abju

African Catfish

African Tigerfish

Bayad Fish

Blacktip Shark

Blue-spotted Stingray

Bolti

Chromis

Cichlid

Cornish Jack

Eel

Flatfish

Gilt-head Bream

Great Barracuda

Leopard Shark

Lepidotus Fish

Loligo Squid

Lungfish

Moon Fish

Mullet

Nile Barb

Nile Bichir

Nile Carp

Nile Mormyrid

Nile Labeo

Nile Perch

Nile Puffer

Parrotfish

Reef Manta Ray

Reef Shark

Sandbar Shark

Sea Snake

Scorpionfish

Spiny Lobster

Sturgeon

Surgeonfish

Swordfish

Thornback Ray

Thresher Shark

Tiger Shark

Tilapia

Triggerfish

Unicorn Fish

Wrasse

Zebra Shark

Domestic Animals

Bean Goose

Brant Goose

Camel (not introduced until Middle/New Kingdom)

Cats (Mau breed)

Chickens (not introduced until New Kingdom era)

Cow/Bull

Dogs (Saluki, Greyhound, Basenji, and Pharaoh Hound breeds)

Donkey

Egyptian Goose

Greater White-fronted Goose

Greylag Goose

Honey Bees

Horse (not introduced until New Kingdom)

Pig

Ram

My sources, if you're interested, are the Wikipedia page for Egyptian wildlife, a few different diving sites about the Mediterranean and Red Sea, a couple books I own on Ancient Egypt that describe the geography of the periods, and this lovely reddit multi-post

Sheep

[mysmorgasbordoffantabulosa]

With all this drama around TK sightings and opposing ship wars and all, I think YM are getting a free ride. With the spotlight off them and the majority of the fandom choosing to ignore the signs that they have been giving out everywhere, they seem to be having the time of their life. Forget ship, as of today, Brian is closest to Yoongi. He constantly hypes him and vice versa. His fandom is behaving like ostriches choosing not to see the obvious. It seems more like a war of pride now rather than reason.

I definitely think you're right about heads in the sand.

As for YM, I'm still not sure what their relationship is, because I always see them more like a best mates who used to be something more. I am not sure it's moved away from that feeling.