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riotwritesthings · 3 years

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I'll cave in (whenever you see fit)

A BIG BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!! to @warmachinesocks

thanks for being you that’s big sexie of you. Here’s a thing.

Winteriron, M, 5k - Vampire!Bucky, human!Tony, an abduction, a rescue, and some dry humping

Bucky knows better than to get involved with a mortal, and he pays the price when Hydra kidnaps his boyfriend. Tony is human, he's questionably in distress, and he is Handling It. (minor violence, surprisingly soft all things considered.)

~~~

Bucky should have known this would happen. Fuck, he should have known.

An immortal should never get involved with a human, that’s rule fucking one because it never ends well for anyone.

Especially not for the human.

But he’s selfish, so fucking selfish, and the first time Tony smiled up at him, open and happy, Bucky knew he was doomed.

He knows something is wrong the second pushes the door open to find the basement apartment completely dark. The only light is the weak streetlight pouring in through the one tiny window, near the ceiling in the kitchen.

Even in the dark, Bucky can easily tell that the place has been trashed, though it is only a subtle difference from the organized chaos Tony usually keeps his workspace in.

The apartment is too quiet, too still, and he knows instantly.

Bucky fucked up. Badly.

Because it had been entirely too easy to get used to the warmth of Tony’s smile, of his skin, the way he so easily made a space for Bucky in his life.

It had been so easy to let himself get comfortable in Tony’s weird basement apartment that’s half home and half machine shop, perfectly Tony. The way the apartment is brightly lit with industrial lights at all hours of the day and night so Tony can see whatever brilliant new invention he’s working on next.

Bucky never had a chance at not getting attached, because in all his years he’s never met anyone like Tony.

Tony is perfect, and brilliant, left with nothing after his father's company was stolen out from under him and Tony just built himself a new life, tries to help wherever he can. He keeps erratic hours and never minds that Bucky comes and goes at all hours of the night, that Bucky can't go out in the daylight.

Bucky hasn’t been in the sun in nearly a thousand years, but with Tony in his arms, so warm and bright and alive, he could almost remember what it felt like.

And now Tony has been taken.

Bucky knew who was responsible even before he found the symbol burned into the wall. It’s Hydra. Of course it is, and those bastards won’t care that he’s human, that he never should have been involved in any of this, all they’ll care about is hurting Bucky as much as they can.

And they picked exactly the right target.

Hydra has been after him for nearly as long as Bucky has been not-alive, determined to wipe out all vampires at any cost. Even once the war was over, even after all the other hunter’s guilds signed the peace treaty, Hydra refused to give up their mission and for some reason they’ve taken a personal vendetta against Bucky. Probably because he’s evaded them so many times.

And now they have Tony.

The thing is that Bucky hasn't really known Tony that long, not even by human standards, but he is completely, irretrievably in love. He’s ready to burn the whole world down to get Tony back, even if Tony never forgives him for it.

But he’s not going to be able to find where Tony is being held, not on his own. Not in time.

The downside to immortal friends though, is that Bucky hasn’t actually seen any of them in years, because what’s a couple decades between centuries old beings? Steve is back in Europe for a while, working on his painting, and Bucky hasn’t seen Natalia in nearly fifty years now, which means she probably won’t turn back up for another fifty.

There is one more option, Bucky is just less than thrilled about it.

It’s no secret that the other hunter’s guilds don’t approve of Hydra’s methods, the amount of collateral damage they leave in their wake. The lengths they’re willing to go to.

Like kidnapping innocent humans.

It’s definitely still a stretch to hope they’ll be willing to help someone like Bucky find Hydra, but he has to try.

And he does have one idea of where to start.

Bucky and Sam don’t like each other very much, and that’s been the standing opinion for the last decade. Which for a hunter and vampire, is basically a lifelong friendship.

It’s at least enough that Bucky can show up at Sam’s door without immediately getting himself staked.

The door flies open and Bucky blinks, because it never fails to surprise him how old Sam has gotten. Every time, Bucky is a little bit expecting Sam-as-he-met-him, still a kid, on his first hunt and clearly terrified but so determined to save the world, so idealistic. And now he’s so jaded, older and tired and it’s just one more reminder of just how badly Bucky has fucked up.

Tony is going to go cold and tired and it will be all Bucky’s fault.

“You’re here about Hydra,” Sam says flatly, no preamble, and at least that answers Bucky’s question about whether or not Sam even knows that Hydra is setting up camp in his territory.

"Tell me where they are," Bucky demands, resisting the urge to flash his fangs just yet because he's not here to threaten answers out of anyone. Not unless he has to.

Although he doesn't find it encouraging that Sam doesn't answer, just clenches his jaw and swings the door open a little wider, letting Bucky see that the extra heartbeat he hears belongs to Clint. Standing in the hallway with a crossbow in hand.

Bucky lets his lip curl up a little, because apparently this is going to be that kind of conversation.

“What do they have against you, anyways?" Clint asks conversationally, like he's not holding a loaded weapon with an expression that says he'd really like to use it. "Seems very personal at this point."

“What, you want the entire list?” Bucky snaps and finds that he is more than willing to give the whole sordid story if that's what it takes.

But he doesn't have the time for that, Tony doesn't have the time.

Instead he grits his teeth and demands “Tell me where they would take a human hostage."

It has the desired effect, both of the hunters tense and Clint’s eyes go wide, and maybe now they’ll realize that this isn’t about him.

The only thing that matters is Tony, and Bucky doesn’t even care that he’s not just admitting to that weakness, he’s basically screaming it from the rooftops by telling them. Doesn’t care that Sam’s eyes narrow in painful understanding.

“We can’t tell you that,” Sam says and he really does sound regretful, but Bucky snarls because that is not what he wants to hear. “Even if we don’t agree with what they’ve done, they’re still—“

“If you don’t tell me, I will kill you,” Bucky interrupts, his voice low and harsh and it’s gratifying to hear the spike in heart rates, it means he still has a chance of convincing them, whether by threat or force.

“Barnes—“ Sam tries to interrupt, but Bucky doesn’t have time for this.

“And then I’ll find out where he is anyways,” Bucky promises, “the only thing you’ll accomplish is slowing me down.”

“You wouldn’t,” Clint says, but he doesn’t sound sure and his grip on the crossbow is white-knuckled, “you’ll start a war you can never come back from.”

“Try me,” Bucky hisses, flashes his teeth and lets his eyes flare. He wants them to know how deadly serious he is.

Clint raises his crossbow, but Sam sighs.

“In the old warehouse district,” Sam says, shoulders tight with anger and fear, “on the far west edge of the city.”

“You’ll regret this,” Clint calls after him as he stalks away, but Bucky knows that he won’t.

Not if he can just get to Tony in time. Nothing matters beyond making sure his selfishness doesn’t get Tony killed. He doesn’t care what it costs, Bucky is more than willing to leave everything and go on the run again, all he cares about is making sure Tony is alive to hate him.

Sam’s information is good, so at least Bucky won’t have to go back when he’s done here.

He’s been dealing with Hydra for centuries now, and Bucky can easily identify the abandoned factory as a Hydra base. It’s the new bars over the windows, the reinforced doors, the impression of movement just below the surface of the dilapidated building.

He only has a couple hours before the sun comes up, and then he’ll be trapped in the building with who knows how many Hydra hunters. He has to find Tony and get out as quickly as possible.

He has to make sure that at least gets Tony out.

Hydra are still setting up their bases more or less the same way they always have, the same holes in security, and getting into the building is easy. Finding the makeshift holding cells is even easier, on the south-most side of the building, but the problem is that all of the cells are empty.

The entire wing of the factory seems to be empty and there’s fresh blood splattered across the walls and the floor, still wet and shining in the fluorescent lights.

The building is too filled with the smell of mold and decay for him to tell whose blood it is, for him to have a hope of picking out the familiar sweet tang that means Tony.

He can hear the sounds of commotion in the distance, what sounds like screams and gunshots further into the factory. It’s the same direction the trail of spilled blood is leading, and Bucky grits his teeth as he follows it.

The base is nearly deserted. Bucky only sees a couple hunters as he follows the sounds of the fight. Everyone he runs into is scrambling for weapons or the exits, and they don’t seem to be expecting him at all. They seem like they’re afraid of something else entirely, like they’re trying to escape.

Bucky doesn’t let them.

They took Tony, and he doesn’t even want to let himself imagine what they’ve done to him. On the slim chance he manages to get Tony out of here, Bucky can’t have any of them going after him again.

He has to make sure they never even think about going after Tony again.

The sounds of screams get louder as he moves into the heart of the warehouse, up the stairs to the offices. The blood is thicker here, splattered across the walls and the floors with evidence of a struggle. Smeared like someone has been dragged down the long hallway kicking and fighting.

With every empty room and bloody handprint he passes his rage grows, and by the time Bucky reaches the last door all he can see is red.

He slams in the door so hard that it splinters apart, chunks of cheap plywood flying everywhere. There’s a smell in the air like acrid smoke, like melting electronics and fire and blood, nearly overwhelming.

Bodies litter the room, dead and dying, but all he sees is Tony.

Bucky has spent the last four hours trying not to let himself imagine all sorts of horrible things. Tony hurt, Tony dead, bleeding, tortured, screaming. Rightfully cursing Bucky for getting him into this mess, rightfully wishing they'd never met.

He’s not prepared for what he actually finds.

Tony is alive, bloodied and bruised but so vibrantly alive, a knife in his hand and a vicious smile on his face as he plunges it into the chest of a Hydra hunter.

Bucky freezes uselessly in the doorway, watching in awe as Tony rips the knife free again, paying no mind to the spray of blood as he spins on his heel. Buries his blade in the gut of someone trying to creep up behind him.

And all at once it’s over.

The room goes still as the last hunter falls with Tony’s knife in his neck, Tony’s knees against his chest baring him down to the ground.

Bucky doesn’t even need to breathe, but still he finds himself choking on air as he watches Tony slowly right himself again, looking over all the destruction he’s caused.

Then Tony looks up, catches sight of him, and the expression on his face shifts from cold and vicious to warm and happy in an instant. Bucky’s cold dead heart lurches in his chest.

“Hey sweetheart, about time you got here,” Tony says, tossing him a jaunty wave with the knife still in hand.

Bucky crosses the room almost in a daze, headless of the blood that slicks the floor and the bodies he has to step over. All he can see is Tony and as soon as he’s close enough he traces his fingers reverently along the line of Tony’s jaw, ghosting over the dark bruise starting to form.

“Are you okay?” Tony asks, nonsensically, leaning into Bucky’s hands on him like Bucky isn’t the most dangerous thing in the room.

And hell maybe he’s not, Bucky certainly doesn’t feel dangerous. Not faced with Tony’s bright eyes and warm skin.

He feels weak, feels completely undone.

Bucky laughs, soft and strangled, and he hasn’t been cold in centuries but his hands are shaking as he cups Tony’s face in his palms.

“No,” he chokes out around another laugh, because he’s not okay, not anywhere close. “I thought- I didn’t know if you were- Tony--”

“Hey, hey,” Tony cuts him off, pulling him in closer and tucking Bucky’s face down into the curve of his neck. Where Bucky can hear the rapid thump of his heart, smell the adrenaline and the sweat that clings to his skin beneath all the blood.

And oh god there’s so much blood, covering Tony’s skin and his clothes and the room around them. Bucky can barely smell Tony through it and he tucks his face a little harder into the hollow of Tony’s throat.

“I’m okay,” Tony promises, fingers of one hand pressing into Bucky’s hair, his other hand resting on Bucky’s side and still wrapped tightly around the knife. Still prepared, and Bucky has never loved him more.

He drags his tongue up the line of Tony’s neck, through smears and splatters of blood. It’s almost a disappointment, definitely a thrill, that none of it is Tony’s.

“What did you- how did you even-“ Bucky keeps interrupting himself, can’t get a full thought out. He’s too concerned with lifting his head and pressing his lips to every inch of Tony’s perfect, unharmed face.

“I keep telling you, I’m a bad bitch,” Tony says, that beautiful smug grin on his face and Bucky just has to taste it.

Tony melts into it so easily when Bucky kisses him, his hands demanding but so gentle, like the room around them isn’t full of carnage. Like Tony isn’t the one who put it there, like he doesn’t have a care in the world except letting Bucky lick into his mouth, taste the adrenaline and determination and life straight from his lips.

Bucky has never tasted anything like it, has never met anyone like Tony, and he could have lost this.

He has to get closer, closer. He doesn’t even realize he’s backing Tony across the room until the back of Tony’s thighs hit a metal table, and Bucky just keeps pushing. Until the table clangs against the wall, until Tony is bent backwards over the surface.

Bucky follows him down, breathing him in, pressing between Tony’s thighs and still trying to get closer.

The table clatters, covered in knives and crossbows and stakes and Bucky doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. It doesn’t matter how much noise he makes now, Tony is the only living person in the warehouse, the only heartbeat on this rundown block. The only thing Bucky needs to worry about.

He certainly doesn’t give a fuck about the bodies that still litter the floor except that none of them are Tony, thatTony put them there.

Bucky doesn’t care about the bridges he’s burned, has never cared less about the impending sunrise. All that matters is Tony.

And Tony isn’t pushing him away, isn’t complaining. He just hooks one leg over Bucky’s hip and arches up against him, finally dropping his knife to drag both palms up Bucky’s back, pulling him in closer.

Tony is so warm beneath him, wrapped around him, always pulling Bucky in when he should be pushing him away.

“Fuck,” Tony sighs against his lips, one hand in Bucky’s hair again. Tony’s legs tighten around his waist, entire body rolling against Bucky’s, his voice shaking slightly as he says “I was so worried about you.”

Bucky wants to laugh again, because that’s soTony, worrying about Bucky while abducted and fighting for his life. Caring about Bucky in the first place when he should have run, should still be running, should leave Bucky far behind and never think about him again.

Nevermind that the idea has pain lancing through Bucky’s chest like he didn’t even think was possible anymore. He’d take the pain of losing Tony happily if he knew it meant Tony would be safe.

He will walk away, once they get out of here, that’s what Bucky tells himself. He just has to breathe Tony in this one last time and then he’ll walk away.

If Tony will let him. Which doesn’t seem likely, so far Tony has seemed determined to stay by Bucky’s side no matter what, and Bucky can never deny him anything.

The warehouse might be empty now but there’s no telling how long it’ll be before more hunters show up, and they should be getting out of here, Bucky knows that. But he can’t tear himself away from Tony’s warmth, from Tony’s hands moving over him.

Bucky can’t stop thinking that he could have lost this. That if he hadn’t found Tony alive and well Bucky would have made an even bigger mess. There would be no end to the carnage.

When he pulls away from the kiss Tony is panting raggedly and if Bucky had the spare brain power he’d feel bad about that but oh, he really doesn’t right now. Doesn’t care about anything but pressing his lips to Tony’s blood-splattered cheek swearing “I never would have stopped looking for you, never.”

“I know,” Tony promises, still trying to pull Bucky back into another kiss despite the way his words come out weak and breathy, his chest heaving against Bucky’s and his heart thundering.

So alive, alive, alive.

“I’d have done anything to get you back,” Bucky growls, dragging one hand down Tony’s side to his hip, digging his fingers in and shifting them until he can feel the hot brand of Tony’s cock against his hip.

“Fuck!” Tony gasps and the scent of his adrenaline spikes higher, turns sweet and warm as his fingers tighten in Bucky’s hair. “I know, I know, c’mon honey--”

And Bucky can’t say no to that, can never deny Tony anything.

Still, even as he lets Tony haul his face up again Bucky can’t stop the words from spilling out, his voice an awful snarl as he says “and if they’d hurt you--”

It’s probably for the best that Tony slams their lips together again and cuts him off, he doesn’t need to know all the monstrous things Bucky would do in his name. Much better to just let Tony kiss him, let Tony flick his warm tongue over Bucky’s blood smeared lips and the tips of his fangs, like he doesn’t have a fear in the world.

Tony’s heart rate kicks up harder, his next inhale weak and ragged against Bucky’s lips and Bucky forces himself to pull away. He lets Tony catch his breath and moves on to biting his way along Tony’s jaw, not enough to break the skin, just enough to get the taste of his skin on Bucky’s lips.

He tastes like sweat and arousal and need, so much love pouring off of him that Bucky can practically taste it. He’ll never get enough of it, doesn’t ever think he’ll stop being caught off guard by it.

“I told you,” Tony pants out when he finally gets his breath back and for a second Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s talking about, too distracted with the wet drag of Tony’s lips over his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Tony says, one of his hands landing on Bucky’s ass to pull him in closer, harder, arching up into the demanding roll of Bucky’s hips as he moans out “‘m not gonna let anything happen to you either.”

Bucky laughs raggedly, grits his teeth, presses his face into the curve of Tony’s throat and the craziest part is that Bucky believes him. As crazy as it is he has no problem believing that Tony is equally ready to burn the world down. That the bloodbath around them is only the start of what Tony would have done.

The heat building between them is so intense that even Bucky feels warm, feels like he’s burning. Like he’s absorbing all that wonderful warmth and still Tony has so much to give, never runs out of it, never pushes him away.

Bucky growls, lifts his head to make it easier to resist the urge to sink his teeth in and instead rolls his hips against Tony’s, swallows Tony’s shaking moan with another fierce kiss. “You’re so- fuck, gorgeous, the way you looked tearing thorugh them--” Bucky can’t even find the words to describe it but Tony’s scent spikes, proud and smug and fond.

So damn addictive.

He can feel the needy throb of Tony’s cock against his hip, against his own when Bucky shifts a little more, and he grinds himself down against Tony. Chasing the shocks of heat and pleasure that shoot through his system everytime Tony jerks beneath him, everytime Tony cires out and drags in a ragged breath and then clings to Bucky harder, pulling him in and rocking up against him, so alive. Tony’s heels digging into the back of his thighs, hands moving restlessly over Bucky’s skin, sliding up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and leaving burning trails in his wake.

Tony feels so amazing wrapped around him, so alive, warm and demanding as his fingers dig into Bucky’s skin, his breath escaping in gasps and moans. The impossible heat between them continues to grow, until Bucky is sure it’s going to burn him away entirely, he can’t possibly survive something like this.

He can’t possibly keep it, not something like him.

“Bucky,” Tony whines and he’s shaking now, blood roaring through his veins. So close to Bucky’s fangs as he drags his lips up Tony’s throat.

“C’mon baby,” Bucky growls, clenching his teeth against the urge to bite, “lemme feel you sweet thing, wanna hear you.”

“I’m-” Tony gasps and then cuts off with a keening moan as Bucky pins him down more firmly, grinds against him harder. Tony tries to wiggle a hand between their bodies but Bucky grabs his wrist, presses Tony’s hand to the table beside his head.

“Just like this,” Bucky pleads, his own cock throbbing as he slows the rock of his hips, dragging his cock firmly along Tony’s until he shakes. “Just like this baby, wanna watch you make an even bigger mess of yourself, wanna fuckin’ lick you clean when we get home.”

It’s a nice thought, even if Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll actually get a chance, has no idea what’s going to happen next. At least the idea of it has Tony moaning louder, arching up against Bucky’s grip on his hip and on his wrist, always trying to get closer.

“Bucky, Bucky-” Tony wails beneath him, nails digging into Bucky’s skin, thighs tightening around Bucky’s hips, and Bucky can feel the way Tony’s breath catches in his chest. The way his heart pounds as he drags in one more breath and then breaks.

And this, this is Bucky’s favorite sound, the way Tony’s voice cracks on a loud moan as he falls apart, the stuttering jump-skip of his heartbeat. Hundreds of years wandering the earth and he’s never heard anything like it, could happily listen to all the sounds Tony makes for the rest of his endless life.

“Bucky,” Tony sighs, dazed and slurred, fingers still tight in Bucky’s hair even as his entire body shakes. “Fuck, c’mon honey, I’m right here, let me have it, let me feel you.”

He can hear Tony’s thundering heartbeat like it’s his own, can practically taste it on his tongue, and a feral sound rumbles out of Bucky’s chest as he tips over the edge, snarling against the all too delicate skin of Tony’s throat and clutching at him tighter, tighter.

“I love you,” Bucky confesses in a voice that’s so broken it’s practically a whisper, like his greatest secret. The worst thing he’s ever done.

They need to leave, need to get the hell out of here. Bucky should probably leave the city entirely, go back on the move, leave Tony far behind where he won’t get hurt.

That’s the plan.

He knows all that, but Bucky can’t seem to bring himself to let go, can’t stop kissing Tony over and over and over, feeling the warmth of Tony’s skin beneath his hands. Like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it.

“Come on,” Tony breathes against his lips, “we gotta get out of here before the sun comes up.”

Bucky groans, but he knows Tony is right. He can feel the approaching dawn in his bones and the last thing he wants is to be trapped in a Hydra base full of corpses all day. Or to still be here when more hunters show up, to have to leave through the sewers.

So he reluctantly pushes himself upright, mourning the way Tony’s lingering warmth starts to fade as soon as they’re not pressed together anymore. Tony’s hand is so much steadier than his own as Bucky helps him to his feet, so warm and alive and unafraid.

Bucky wants to pull him into another kiss. Wants to drop to his knees and press his face to the wet patch slowly spreading across the front of Tony’s jeans, taste him, lick him clean just like Bucky had promised. Doesn’t want to face the real world just yet because that means facing the fact that he has to leave.

That he doesn’t get to keep this.

Tony’s hand is still steady in his, his smile small and fond and he leads Bucky out of the warehouse, through the room of bodies and the bloodsplattered halls. Bucky pulls them to a stop just outside the heavy door he’d ripped his way through, paying no mind to the lightening color of the sky.

Burning to dust would hurt less than this.

“I need to leave,” Bucky says, the words tearing their way out of his throat, “I may have... made some threats. In order to find you. And Hydra isn’t going to stop as long as I’m here.”

He hasn’t even told Tony why Hydra is so determined to ruin his afterlife, not entirely, and now he doesn’t have time. Tony has been dragged into Bucky’s mess and he’ll never know why, and the only upside is Hydra will blame the bloody mess inside on Bucky. They’ll hunt for him more furiously than ever, and the best thing Bucky can do is lead them far, far away.

This is why not getting involved with humans is rule fucking one but Bucky doesn’t regret it, knows he never will. And as much as it kills him he can’t ask Tony to come with him.

Tony nods, like he expected it, and then asks “where are we going, and how long do I have to pack whatever’s left of my apartment?”

Bucky gapes at him.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t need to ask, and Bucky knows he should be relieved but all he feels is guilt. He loves Tony, but at what cost? He would do anything for Tony, and Bucky is ruining his life.

“You- your home,” Bucky tries to protest, his entire body going cold, colder than anything he’s ever felt before. “Your workshop--”

“You saying I can’t rebuild?” Tony interrupts, “I’m insulted, honestly. How dare you doubt me.” His smile is wide, and cajoling, like he’s trying to cheer Bucky up. Like he’s trying to convince Bucky.

“You’ll have to leave everything,” Bucky insists and maybe he does need convincing. It feels a little like he’s lost his mind, like he’s dreaming. He had a plan. “Your entire life, to hide with me, I can’t- I can’t promise the next time you’ll even see the sun.”

Bucky doesn’t need to breathe but he’s wheezing for breath now, his empty chest aching it’s so full of confusion and guilt and hope. He can’t let Tony do this, he can’t ask for this, he can’t--

Tony grabs Bucky’s face in his warm hands, palms calloused and still tacky with blood, as steady as they are when he’s building the future. As steady as they were around the knife, as when he was leading Bucky out of the bloodbath.

“Bucky,” Tony says simply, dark eyes so impossibly bright even in the sickly fluorescent light that spills out of the warehouse. “Bucky,” he repeats, low and sweet and amused, his voice wavering slightly as says “You are my sunshine.”

Bucky laughs again, can’t believe how much he’s laughed on a night that started out with his absolute worst nightmare. Even if it is a little hysterical.

He had a plan, but he also knew better than to get involved with a human, knew better than to stay in one place this long in the first place. Tony has been wrecking all of his plans without even knowing it for months now anyways.

What’s one more.

“You’re stealin’ all my lines,” Bucky accuses but he doesn’t mind, oh he doesn’t mind at all. He gets to keep this, keep Tony, the brightest thing he’s ever seen.

“I love you,” Tony says, so matter-of-fact, and it almost knocks Bucky’s legs out from under him. Every single time.

“That’s my line,” Bucky says, and he smiles, and his hand is steady as he wraps it around Tony’s wrist. “I love you,” he says anyways and tangles their fingers together, doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. “Let’s go.”

#my fic #bucky/tony #winteriron #starkbucks #everybody loves vampire bucky AMIRIGHT #anywhooo HAPPYBIRFDAY 😘

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terubakudan · 3 years

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This may be an old article from 3 years ago, but these cultural aspects/observations still apply even today. And though this is strictly a Chinese perspective, a lot of these everyday life bits are observed in Overseas Chinese communities in countries such as The Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, etc. as well as countries heavily influenced by Chinese culture like Taiwan, Japan, and Korea.

I've always liked learning about other cultures and making comparisons between how things are done East vs West. Which probably stems from growing up with two cultures and Mom raising me on American movies xD

So the irony is if you asked me how many Chinese, Taiwanese, or Hong Kong actors I know, chances are I know as much as you do xD Like Jackie Chan, Andy Lau, and that's about it. But if you asked me about Western (specifically American and British) actors, then I have a useless brain dump of movie trivia and who was with who in what movie xD

Hmmm, both Taiwan and the Philippines are two distinct cultures but both look up to a certain country and are fascinated by that. In Taiwan's case, Japan and the US for the Philippines. In both cases, this is due to being under the rule of those countries in their history. Taiwan being under Japan for 50 years, and the Philippines being under Spain for 300+ years, followed by periods of American and Japanese rule. To put it simply though:

Taiwan is "mini-Japan with a very Chinese culture".

The Philippines is "former colony of Spain with lots of American influences".

But unlike the author, I've never set foot in any Western country, so my understandings are strictly what I've observed in media, which while it can be accurate, doesn't compare to actually experiencing the culture.

Some further elaboration on most points:

#1 We quite literally use chopsticks for everything. We use it to pick rice, viands, vegetables, fruit, smaller desserts, almost all the food you can think of.

But where do you put your chopsticks when you're not using them? Just put them on top of your bowl or flat on your plate. But do not ever stick them vertically. It's taboo, since it looks like incense sticks, which we use to pray for those who have passed, like our ancestors or during funerary services.

#3 The majority of Asia is obsessed with fair/white skin. In my time at the Philippines, I grew up watching all these Dove Whitening commercials and my classmates often commented on how fair my skin was, how they envied it etc. In Taiwan, girls often say they don't want to 變黑 (biàn hēi) 'become dark'. Japan and Korea too are not innocent of this either (if their beauty/skin products weren't a dead giveaway).

People here at Taiwan often mistake me for being from Hong Kong or Japan (as long as I don't speak Mandarin with my heavy accent xD). A Taiwanese classmate of mine joked that she often gets mistaken for being from Southeast Asia due to having a darker complexion. And while I laughed it off with her at that time, looking back, I now realize she was lowkey being racist. xD

And believe me Filipinas have mentioned literally being told 'your skin is so dark' here in Taiwan, or being given backhanded compliments like 'you're pretty despite having dark skin' and...*facepalms*

My point is, beauty is not exclusive to skin color. People who still think that are assholes.

#5 Not to say we don't have salt and pepper, but yes soy sauce and vinegar are the classic condiments you see on the table, be it at home or at a restaurant.

And if I may add, Taiwanese love their pepper. xD If you ever get to eat at a night market or a smaller "Mom n' Pop-style" restaurant here, some dishes/soups tend to add quite an excessive amount of pepper. Not like anthills, but quite liberally and way more than average. Enough that you see traces of pepper at the bottom of the food paper bag or swirling in your soup. xD

#6 I know this all too well from personal experience. In my years of studying at Taiwan, I always had roommates. 3 in my first school (I graduated high school in the Philippines pre K-12 so I had to make up 2 years of Senior High), followed by 2 in college, with the exception of 1 in freshman year.

My college did offer single person dorms but at around 9000 NTD ($324) per month compared to around 6000 NTD ($216) per semester. Because I wanted to save, the choice was obvious for me xD. But ah, this doesn't mean I don't value personal space, in fact I love having the room to myself, and since both my roomies would go home to their families every weekend, weekends were bliss for me xD

And you don't have to be friends with your roommates (that's an added bonus however), you just have to get along with them. I was quite lucky to have really great roommates all throughout my schooling years.

#9 In the Philippines, we do. Owing mostly to American influences and maybe being predominantly Catholic? xD

#10 *sigh* Chinese parents and parents from similar Asian cultures tend to put too much emphasis on grades, so much that kids could get sent to cram school as early as elementary. This is because what school you get into could literally affect your future job opportunities, and while that's not exclusive to any particular country/culture, I feel it's especially pronounced here in Asia. I'm really lucky my own parents weren't that strict about it. However, if your parents don't point the mistakes out to you, chances are you'll do it yourself, if you're an Asian kid like me anyway. xD It just becomes a habit.

#11 My family is an exception to this. xD We do say 'I love you' directly, but complete with the 'ah eat well ok?', 'don't scrimp on food', 'sleep well' and similar indirect words/actions of affection. We were doing 'Conceal, Don't Feel' before it became popular. xD

#13 I'm kind of confused about this but this has sort have changed over the years in which eye-contact is now more encouraged. But don't stare, especially at elders and authority figures. Sometimes it's just shyness though. xD And I've observed this with my own Taiwanese friend, especially when I'm complaining or ranting to her about something. xD I'm a person who likes to express my opinions strongly, which tends to scare/alienate some of the locals here, as doing so is kind of frowned upon. Thankfully, she does listen and offers her take on things.

#14 Ah this. xD In the Philippines, this is a common greeting known as beso-beso, and I freaked out too when an auntie did that to me. xD Needless to say, Mom lectured me later on what that was. ^^"

#16 Along with #3 another crazy beauty standard. In my view, people always look better with a little meat on them and when they're not horribly thin. Asia still has a loonng way to go with accepting different types of bodies if you ask me. This combined with modern beauty standards has made the pressure for women especially to 'look beautiful' higher than ever.

I know many people love them but please, starving yourself or glorifying eating disorders is never OK just to get this kind of 'ideal' body. I'm not part of the Kpop fandom, but even I think when idols get bullied just for gaining the least bit of weight among other insensitive comments, that's really going too far.

#17 'If you want to make friends, go eat.' <- I couldn't agree more. In the Philippines we have a greeting: 'Kumain ka na ba?' (Have you eaten?) . Similarly in Taiwan, we have 吃飯了沒? (chī fàn le méi), both of these can mean that in the literal sense but are often used as greetings instead. By then which invitation to having lunch/dinner together may or may not follow. Food really is a way for us to socialize and to catch up with what's going on in each other's lives. Not to say we don't have regular outings like going out to the mall, going shopping, etc. but eating together is a huge part of our culture, be it with family or friends.

And while I'm at it, some memes that are way too accurate good to pass up xD

Parents, uncles, aunties alike will fight over the bill xD

Alternatively:

You just space out until your name is called xD

My parents are guilty of the last one. Logic how? xD

#18 True. xD I like giving compliments out to people but I have a hard time accepting them myself, though I've learnt how to accept them much more now than before. We're kind of raised to constantly downplay ourselves so we often say things like 'ah no no' or 'I'm really not that good'. The downside of this of course is that it can come off as somewhat fake. xD

Again from personal experience, that same classmate who made the lowkey racist remark, she was good, she was on the debate team, was a honor student, knew how to mingle with people, but she downplayed herself way too much, while praising me but I honestly thought that she never really meant it from how she treated me. She wanted to keep me around her yet make backhanded compliments at me and she didn't want me socializing with my other classmate who is now my friend. *sigh* It was only after discussing this with one of my roomies did I realize how this 'excessive downplaying' might come off to people like me who more or less grew up with a more 'Westernized' mindset. I'm not saying brag about your achievements but don't be overly humble about them either, which can also be a turn off.

#20 We do tend to be a lot more realistic on how we view things, neither entirely optimistic nor pessimistic. We try to think of things practically and often analyze things on pure logic. A downside of this however, is that Chinese people can be overly practical. Taiwanese for instance don't like to 'find inconveniences' and generally keep to themselves, meaning, they won't help you in your hour of need even when they do have the capabilities. Sounds really harsh I know, but in my 6 years of living in Taiwan, while this doesn't apply to all the people, a lot of them really do only find/talk to you when they need something.

So for some people saying Taiwanese are 'friendly', that's BS xD If you ask me, Filipinos are infinitely more friendly, and again while not all, generally make more of an effort to help you when you need it. I really felt more of a real sense of community during my years growing up in the Philippines compared to Taiwan.

#21 Children do tend to stay with their parents well into college and adulthood, since Chinese families are indeed very family-oriented, in a lot of cases, grandparents often live under the same roof as us as well! And it really does save a lot of money. I see there's a real stigma in the US when it comes to "living with your parents", but that's starting to change especially because of Covid and having more and more people move back in with their parents.

Housing unfortunately is pretty much hella expensive no matter where you go, and Taiwan is no exception. Steep housing prices and the very high cost of raising a child (schooling + buxiban fees, etc.) contribute to a very low birth rate and thus an aging population like Japan. It's not uncommon to see both parents working in Taiwan.

#23 I'm an overthinker myself, but I totally agree with the author that the best is to strike a good balance between these two. Which I guess is why I love drawing or any other related creative attempts, it helps me be more spontaneous or well, creative! I like to remain intellectually or artistically inspired.

#24 Is French high school really like that? xD My friend did watch SKAM France and more or less got a culture shock from what was depicted on the show. I can confirm however that most high schools both in the Philippines and Taiwan require students to wear a uniform, only in college is everybody free to wear casual/civilian clothes.

#26 Ah this is part of our Asian gift-giving etiquette xD We always open gifts later after the event/meeting and in private. Never open them in front of the person who gave it to you or in front of others. This is to prevent any 'shame/embarrassment' that may result both to yourself and to the gift giver. I know this may come off as something weird since some people may want a more honest response or immediate feedback when it comes to gift-giving, but that's just how it is in our culture. You're always free to ask us though (in private) if we liked the gift or not ^^"

#28 I want to say the same goes to drinking, partying, and drugs however xD Those are things which are still frowned upon in our culture. And to be honest, whenever I see those in movies, it does kind of turn me off xD It doesn't mean that we're "uncool" or "boring", we just think that there are much better or healthier ways of "having fun".

#31 Is this true in France?! Man I would kind of prefer that instead of people being on their phones all the time xD This kind of goes with #20 in that Chinese are overly practical or logical, and don't read fiction as much as nonfiction. My Taiwanese friend is an exception though, she's a bibliophile who loves the feel of paper books compared to e-books, and it's a trait of her that I like a lot. Both the Philippines and Taiwan however have a huge fanbase when it comes to manga and anime though.

I'm all for reading outside of "designated reading" at schools especially. Reading fiction improves your vocabulary too, and can be quite fun! It helps you imagine and really invest in a world/story, and if you ask me something that I feel Westerners are better at, they're more in touch with their emotions and creativity, and are thus much more able to write compelling or original stories. Believe me, I've seen a fair amount of Chinese movies that rip off Western movie plotlines xD

#33 Nothing much to add on here..except that since I'm a "weird" person, Mom often jokes that she got the wrong baby from the hospital. xD

#35 True. While I agree with the care and concern that your fellow community can give you, the downside of this is we tend to only hang out with our own people, e.g Chinese with Chinese, Taiwanese with Taiwanese, etc. I've seen too that it's especially hard to make friends in Japan and Korea as a foreigner. Not only is there the language barrier, but the differences in culture too. In a way, Asians can be pretty close-minded on getting to know other cultures or actually making friends with people from other countries. I know this all too well being half-Taiwanese/half-Filipino, being neither "Filipino" enough nor "Taiwanese" enough. xD It's more of people here being too used to what they're comfortable with.

#36 Oh this is something I feel that Chinese students and other students from similar cultures should really improve on. xD How will people respect you if you don't speak your mind?

I felt bad especially for my Spanish teacher in college, granted it was an introductory course (Spanish I and II) but the amount of times that our teacher had to prompt a student to recite/speak even with clear hints already made her (and me too) extremely frustrated. The thing is, these are college students, I personally feel they don't have any reason to be so shy of speaking and technically by not doing so they're slowing the pace of the class too much and a lot of time is wasted.

Unfortunately you can't always be very vocal with your thoughts and opinions in most Asian cultures. I would say strive for that, but at the same time, play your cards well, especially if you're in a workplace setting.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading and here's a cookie! 🍪 I'm not perfect and there's bound to be something I missed so please let me know if you spotted anything wrong. Feedback/questions are very much welcome and please feel free to share about your country/culture's differences or similarities!

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atlabeth · 3 years

Text

transferred part eight - atla smau

TRANSFERRED - zuko x fem!reader

masterlist | part 7 | part 9

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know he’s falling for you as well.

wc: 4.5k

warning(s): alcohol, gross guys, cursing, ppl getting drunk, suggestive themes, some pining, y/n being dumb of ass

a/n: i’ve been in a weird place with my writing so that’s why this took longer, it was a combination of writers block and lacking confidence in my writing so sdkjfhs. also for the ending? im sorry. but also im not

taglist: @ourbestfriend-mishacollins @lil-lex1 @xxshad0wxb1rdxx @zuko-is-the-sun @akiris @irohs-teapot @thatarthistorynerd @charlenasaxen @minninugget @marvel-ousnesss @count-thotticus @what-ye-egg @furblrwurblr @thesstuff @mariachiii @ietss @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @xbarrjallenx @tommy-braccoli @dreamsluvrr @floofybread

~~~~~~

“SOKKA, WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! NOW OPEN THE DOOR OR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN MYSELF!” You banged your fist against the door for what felt like the hundredth time, and it seemed to finally work. The door swung open and your brother came out holding his hands up placatingly. You had to give it to him, his hair looked good, but with all the time he had spent styling it in there you would be disappointed if it wasn’t a masterpiece.

“Calm down, Y/N! You just don’t appreciate the art that goes into this,” he said with an exaggerated gesture to himself. You rolled your eyes and pushed past him, closing and locking the door behind him to make sure that no one would disturb you while you got ready. One downside to rooming with all boys was that no one knew how to knock, so you had to be extremely vigilant in making sure that no one walked in on you.

You had spent a majority of your time picking out the perfect outfit for tonight after you and Zuko had gotten home. It was harder than you thought it was going to be to find something that said, ‘I’m available but not too available, I’m approachable but not too approachable, and also this is hot’, but after a lot of rifling through your closet you decided on a black backless top and navy blue jeans, something that looked good but did not warrant all the time spent searching.

It didn’t take nearly as long to do your hair and makeup, maybe because you were rapidly running out of time, but you decided to just go with a simple look that brought out your eye color and what you usually did for parties for your hair.

You nearly stabbed yourself in the eye with your mascara wand when you heard banging on the door. “Y/N, WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN FIVE MINUTES! NOW OPEN THE DOOR OR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN MYSELF!”

“Sokka, if you’re gonna yell at me then BE ORIGINAL!” You called back as you finished your eyes up. You shoved all the products back into your makeup bag then checked your hair one last time before leaving the bathroom.

“How do I look, boys?” You walked into the kitchen and grabbed your purse off the island, testing the waters with the heels you had decided to wear last minute. They were only a couple inches but it had been a while since you wore them, and you would prefer if you didn’t fall over in front of every hot person at this party.

Sokka followed you into the kitchen after nearly getting hit by the door, his tone somehow exasperated already. “You look fine. Now can we please get going? It’s one thing to be fashionably late, but we can’t be LATE late.”

“I love the heels, Y/N,” Aang gave you a grin and two thumbs up which you returned.

When you looked to Zuko for his reaction, you were surprised to see a faint blush dusting his cheeks and his eyes wider than usual as they lingered on you. “You look- um- wow. You look great. Are you sure you won’t get cold?”

You felt your face heat up and you smiled, subconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I can just borrow your jacket if I need to,” you teased with a wink as you walked past him. “Come on Sokka, I’ll race you for shotgun!”

“Oh, that is so cheap—!” Before you knew it, the two of you were sprinting out the door, pushing each other

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Zuko,” Aang said jokingly once you were out of the apartment, the distant yells of you and your brother bouncing through the hallway. “Y’know, you could probably make a move tonight. I think she’s into you!”

“I- that’s not- I wasn’t- we’re just friends!” Zuko stammered as he picked up his keys from the table, finally snapping out of his stupor.

“Whatever you say, Sifu Hotman!”

“I don’t— it’s not like that!”

~~~~~~

It was a quick ride over to the apartment with Sokka’s instructions — who had somehow beat you to the car winning shotgun (you blamed your heels) — and soon you were in front of Apartment B29 knocking on the door. A man about your age opened the door, and you blinked in surprise as you were hit by the wave of noise coming from inside. Sokka pushed past you and did a very complicated handshake with the guy before clapping him on the back.

“Kento, how are ya doin’? I brought my roommates with me, is that cool?”

“Of course, man! The more the merrier!” Sokka grinned and high-fived him and the four of you moved inside, all of your senses assaulted by a barrage of.. everything.

It was a surprisingly active party in a surprisingly big place, but you supposed that had to be the case for someone to throw something this size. Your eyes immediately started drifting around, searching for your friends that had arrived before you, and you started tugging on Aang’s shirt and pointing. “There they are! Come on!”

You practically dragged the poor boy behind you as your brother and Zuko followed behind in a less forced way, and you barreled into Suki, each knocking the air out of each other with the strength of your hugs.

“You’re here!” Suki looked at your outfit and whistled. “And you look fantastic? This is the Y/N that I have been missing!”

You laughed and pulled away from her, giving one armed hugs to both Katara and Toph before settling in while everyone else greeted each other. “Gotta make a good first impression on BSSU guys, right?”

“Oh, I think you already have,” Katara smirked, her eyes flicking over to Zuko for a second before training back on you.

You furrowed your brows, about to question Katara further, when Suki gasped and grabbed your hand.

“Oh, speaking of guys! There are a couple guys in my psych class tht are here that I think you’d really be into. Come on!” Suki started pulling you away and you looked back at the rest of the group with an amused expression before giving in and running away with her.

Katara groaned, looking at Toph with desperation that she couldn’t see. “That girl is hopeless. How am I supposed to do my matchmaking if she’s trying to set her up with random guys?”

“Guess you’ll either have to try harder or let it go, sugar queen.”

“You know I’m not letting this go.” Katara could’ve kept going on about it, but thankfully for Toph, Aang slung his arm around Katara’s shoulder and kissed her on the cheek.

“Come on, Katara! Let’s start this party off right.” The two of them grinned at each other and went off to the midst of everyone, no doubt to dance together.

“Zuko? You there?” Toph questioned.

“Yeah?” Parties were very much not Zuko’s thing, so he didn’t exactly know what he was going to do now that everyone had split up.

Toph elbowed him and started walking through the crowd, Zuko following hurriedly after her as he rubbed his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“It’s how I show affection.” Toph grabbed onto his hand so that she wouldn’t run into everything in her way, and continued walking. “Now come on, let’s do something! Sokka’s talking with his boys, Y/N is probably off hitting on some guys while Suki encourages her, and Katara and Aang are doing some dumb couple stuff. Which means that we have to do something.”

Zuko chuckled and shrugged. “Sure.” Hopefully Suki wasn’t serious about setting you up. Of course, he didn’t like you like that, but you were too good for the kind of guy that you would find at this kind of party. He supposed that he was that kind of guy because he was here, but he was different, right? You wouldn’t see him in that light—

“Ow! Why’d you do that again?” Zuko was sure he was going to have a bruise if he hung out with Toph for the rest of the night.

“Because I can tell that you’re thinking of something stupid.”

“I am not—

“Zuko, I can’t even see you and I know you’re lying.”

He was suddenly too distracted to focus on Toph calling him out because he saw you, talking animatedly with a couple of guys and Suki by your side. They all started laughing at whatever you said, and your smile, even from that far away, made his heart flutter. But for some reason, seeing you with those boys made him feel.. annoyed.

He didn’t even realize he was clenching his fists until Toph hit him, albeit softer, on the shoulder. “Lighten up on the grip, sparky!”

“Sorry,” he said, blinking a couple of times. “Let’s keep going.”

This was going to be a long night for Zuko.

~~~~~~

You had separated from the group to get another drink, having already finished your cup in the time it took to tell a couple stories. You pursed your lips and picked a beer up from the cooler, then placed the cap on the edge of the table and slammed down on top of it with your other hand. The bottle cap fell off and you took a sip, pleased that it worked. It was a party trick you had picked up when you first moved to Kyoshi, and though using a bottle opener was loads easier, this was more fun.

“Nice move.” You turned around, surprised when you heard a voice behind you, nearly spilling your drink in the process. It belonged to a tall, brown haired boy with some interesting eyebrows and a toothpick in his mouth.

“Thanks.” You smiled lightly and moved to walk away, but he blocked your path.

“What, do I not get a name?” His words had an air of cockiness to them, and he leaned against the wall next to the table. “I’m Jet.”

“Ohhhh, you’re Jet.” You took a sip of your drink to mask your grimace and rolled your eyes, already looking around for Suki to get away to. Your sister had told you about her experiences with this guy, and though there was some irony in him hitting on you all these years later, you weren’t into it. “Yeah, no thanks.”

You started to walk away but he wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you back to him, causing you to let out a small yelp. You were already kinda tipsy, so you got much closer than you would’ve liked (being in the same room with him was too close to be fair) and he smirked at you. Now this, this was definitely how you wanted your night to go.

“Come on darling, just give me a chance. I’m not that bad.” He was attractive, you would admit that, but the way he was acting was a red flag that you weren’t going to miss again.

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip but he wasn’t budging. You glared up at him and set your jaw. “Do you really want to do this tonight? Because I’ve got time, buddy.”

“I’m just asking a pretty girl for her name, it’s not a crime. Of course, I’ll also go for your number.” He was smooth as ever, unfazed until another voice cut in.

“She said no. Now leave her alone, Jet.”

You felt his grip loosen on your wrist and you immediately pulled away, looking over to see who had saved you from the fight that you were sure was imminent. Your eyes lit up when you saw that it was Zuko, and you backed over so that you were on his side. You noticed he ever so slightly positioned himself in front of you.

“Ah.. You two a thing?” The confidence from before was replaced with what looked like anger with a hint of jealousy.

“No, he’s just a guy that knows what ‘no’ means,” you shot back. Now you wanted to fight, but Zuko took your hand and shook his head.

“He’s not worth it. Let’s go, Y/N.” He started walking away and you followed, but were unable to resist one more jab at that cocky jerk.

“I’m not into jerks that fuck over my sister!” You yelled over your shoulder as Zuko pulled you away. The two of you emerged out of the apartment onto the empty balcony, and you inhaled the fresh air.

“Thanks for that. I think I would’ve started a fight if I stayed there for another second.” You tipped back the rest of your beer and frowned, twirling the bottle between your fingers before setting it on the ground next to you. “God, this sucks. Why am I drinking it again?”

“Because you’re a broke college kid that wants to get drunk at a party thrown by other broke college kids?” Zuko offered helpfully.

You hummed in agreement and leaned your back against the railing, pointing your finger at him. “Right on the mark, mister.”

He smiled as he leaned against the wall, conveniently ignoring the chair right next to him. You figured it was for his ‘cool guy image’, but it was once again doing it for you. “He didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

You snorted and shook your head, running a hand through your hair as you looked into the night. The party was still going on strong back inside, but it was nice to get away for a moment, especially with Zuko. “Nah. If he tried anything, he would be the one getting hurt.”

Zuko chuckled, pushing himself up from the wall and walking over to you. Another thing you had noticed from living with him and being his classmate — this boy could not sit still. “I believe that wholeheartedly.”

“Does Jet have something against you?” You questioned, casting a glance at him. “Because as soon as you showed up, he looked really angry.”

“We have some.. messy history. Some stuff that happened in high school that he can’t let go.” Zuko stared down at the ground and you nodded, taking that as a sign to not push further.

“It’s like the only guys I attract are douchebags,” you groaned, letting your head fall back to stare at the sky. “But seriously, thank you. You never know how guys like that get when you reject them.”

“Anything for you.” Zuko’s eyes widened when he realized what he said and he tried to cover it up with a cough, stammering to fix it. “B-because you’re one of my roommates! And my friend! And it’s not like I would just leave one of my friends to fend by themselves especially when they’re drunk—”

“Shhhhhh.” You waved your hand in front of his face, trying to get him to stop. “You, my good sir, talk too much.” You let out a laugh at his expression and mimicked his stance, resting your forearms against the railing and shivering a bit as a gust of wind blew by. “Just.. stand here for a little with me. Appreciate the stars,” you crooned with a flourish of your arm.

You both stood there in comfortable silence, the sounds of the party raging behind you reduced to mere background noise as you became lost in your surroundings. It was just you, Zuko, and the sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you mused.

“It is,” he agreed. When you glanced at him, you saw that Zuko’s eyes had never left you. Your face immediately heated up and you averted your gaze with a small smile, self-consciously brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. This time when you shivered you felt something being draped around your shoulders and your eyes widened in surprise when you saw it was Zuko giving you his jacket. You prayed to any god that would listen that he couldn’t see how flushed your cheeks were.

“What are you doing?”

“You did say you would borrow mine if you got cold, right?”

You hummed thoughtfully and slipped your arms into the sleeves, already feeling warmer. Whether it was from not having your whole back exposed or wearing something of Zuko’s though, you didn’t know. “I guess I did.”

When you met his gaze again, it was like some invisible force was stopping you from looking away. All of the sounds of the party faded away, and it was like the world around you had stopped. It was just you and Zuko, and you unconsciously started leaning forward.

You jumped and nearly screamed when you felt a buzz against your back pocket, letting out a relieved breath when you realized it was only your phone. You pulled out your phone and tried your hardest to look absorbed in it, trying to pretend like you weren’t just about to try and kiss Zuko right then. That moment was completely and wholly ruined.

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes as you read the text on your phone and started to walk back inside. “Apparently Aang and Toph have gotten into a debate about… moral relativism? God, I have no idea why they’re talking about that at a party, or who they’re even arguing with, but apparently it’s getting heated. Wanna come with?”

Zuko chuckled and shook his head. “I think I’ll take a few more moments out here. Parties drain me sometimes.” In truth, he needed a while to process what just happened between the two of you, what he had done. He definitely hadn’t imagined that moment, and he knew he would be thinking of your eyes and how they sparkled in the moonlight for days to come.

“Ah, I totally get you, man. Take all the time you need, text me if you need anything!” You winked at him and ran back inside, which Zuko reciprocated with a light smile.

~~~~~~

You spent the rest of the night having a great time — drinking more shitty beer with Sokka, dancing with Katara and Toph, singing so badly to the music with Suki that you were amazed they hadn’t kicked you out, and telling stories to anyone who would listen with Aang’s assistance (you two made a great team). The only thing you needed was some time with Zuko - besides the time you spent together out on the balcony you had hardly seen him doing anything that wasn’t hanging on the outside of the party. The not-so-hushed conversations between three drunk girls and the designated driver about it went just as well as one might think.

“Look how sad he looks! Who comes to a party just to not party?” You caught Zuko’s eye again and waved, which he returned with a smile and a small wave of his own.

“Zuko does. He’s all ‘look at me! I’m going to show how cool and brooding I am by not doing anything. All the chicks dig it,’” Toph mocked, dropping her voice lower to imitate Zuko.

“Toph, that is so mean! You can’t even see him.” Suki placed her hands on each side of Toph’s face which Toph immediately slapped away. “You are so beautiful. You are a beautiful blind woman, and we need to dance.”

“Suki, why are your hands so cold- oh my GOD—” Suki grabbed Toph’s hand and pulled her into the fray, causing you to dissolve into giggles. You grabbed Katara’s shoulder and looked back over at Zuko.

“He looks so sad, Katara! I can’t stand it!” You stared your sister in the eyes and put your other hand on her shoulder. “I’m gonna ask him to dance. I’m going to pull that beautiful man out of the shadows of his angst and I’m going to make him dance to this trashy pop song with me and bring out his happiness.”

Katara snorted and placed her hand over yours on her shoulder, casting a glance at Zuko as well. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m pretty sure the only reason he’s here is because he has to drive you guys home.”

“My dear sister, I’m afraid to tell you that you are wrong. No one—” you gestured to yourself. “—can be sad around this.”

You clapped Katara on the shoulder then pushed your way through the crowd until you got to Zuko, not even giving him a chance to react before you grabbed his hand and started pulling him behind you back into the center of the party.

“What are you doing?” He yelled, having to raise his voice to be heard over the music and everyone around the two of you.

“I’m getting you to dance with me!” You grinned, letting go of his hand and facing him once you had gotten far enough in. He looked so out of his element that your eyes softened immediately and you put your hand on his shoulder.

“Zuko, if you’re uncomfortable then you can tell me and you can go back to what you were doing before. But please, just give this a chance for one minute. I think you’ll have fun.”

A beat of silence passed before he nodded, and your smile returned. “Y/N, you know I’ve danced before, right?”

“I don’t doubt it. But you haven’t danced the Y/N way.” The song conveniently changed to an upbeat, commercial pop song, and you gasped. “And this is the perfect song to start with! Come on, just follow my lead!”

You started to dance like no one was watching, jumping up and down, waving your arms around, and doing some truly ridiculous moves. Zuko stifled a laugh and you beckoned for him to come closer. “Get in on this, man! You promised me one minute, which means one minute of this.”

Zuko started to inch closer but you grabbed his hand once more and pulled him in, doing all of your moves from before but this time holding onto his hand. You looked so carefree, so happy, that Zuko couldn’t not do this with you. You were right that this wasn’t his scene, but he would do a lot of things if it meant seeing you like this.

Suki ran back to Katara, pulling a disheveled Toph behind her, and she gestured with her head at you and Zuko with a questioning look. “Is Zuko.. dancing? To a trashy pop song?”

Katara chuckled and nodded. “Yep.”

“Oh my god, is she wearing his jacket?”

“Yep.”

“Zuko doing things at a party and not just brooding in the corner? I think the world’s about to end,” Toph said.

“I think my sister just has that effect on him, somehow.” Katara sighed happily, looking back at her two friends with a twinkle in her eye. You grabbed onto Zuko’s hands and pulled him closer, swinging your hands back and forth between the two of you as the song changed to a more chill beat. “I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages.”

You ended up dancing together for a whole lot more than one minute.

~~~~~~

“I just- I want you guys to know how much I love you. Sokka brought us to this cool ass party, Aang is a ball of literal sunshine, my girls always got my back, and Zuko gave me his jacket because I was cold. Not that I could be cold around you, because you. Are. Hot.” Your words were slightly slurred as you and your friends walked through the parking lot. and your eyes widened as you started taking it off. “Oh shit, do you want this back? I totally forgot that I was wearing it.”

“No- no, you can keep it! I don’t mind.” Tonight had definitely changed something between you and Zuko. Your time on the balcony together, him giving you his jacket, somehow roping him into dancing like an idiot, and all these compliments that you were just throwing around? His feelings were all over the place, but it was just the party getting to him, right? You two were friends. Nothing else. But the more you flashed that smile at him, the harder it got to convince himself that was all you two were. That it was all he wanted you two to be.

“Alright, so let me get this straight. Toph and Y/N are coming home with me to our dorm, Zuko is driving the boys back to their apartment, and Suki is abandoning us to get it on with my brother?” Katara questioned, clicking the button on her keys a few times to unlock her car.

“I’m not abandoning you if I told you about it before we came here!” Suki and Sokka were holding hands, constantly whispering and laughing to each other the entire way out of the apartment. “You know that every party there’s a very real possibility of us going home together.”

“Yeah, and I try not to think about it,” she said wryly as she helped Toph into the passenger seat. “Make sure they don’t do anything stupid, Zuko?”

“I can’t make any promises. You know how they are.”

“Hey! We are two adults in a loving relationship and we are allowed to do whatever we want—” Sokka protested, leaning against Suki for support.

“We don’t want to hear about that, Sokka! Just— don’t mess up my part of the room, okay? And if you do anything on my bed I will ruin you.” You pointed at him accusingly and Suki gave him a big kiss.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! It’s all gonna be fine,” Suki grinned at you and poked Sokka’s cheek, and you shook your head.

“I’m too drunk and too sleep deprived to deal with this,” you grumbled as you climbed into the back seat of Katara’s car, nearly falling over as soon as you sat down.

“Take care of her, okay?” Zuko muttered to Katara as he walked past her. She mock saluted and grinned.

“As if I’m capable of anything else.”

Through the window you could see Aang and Zuko talking about something while you left the parking lot, but you couldn’t hear them. “Whaddya think they’re talking about?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Katara said with a smile.

~~~~~~

Soon, you, Katara, and Toph were all back at the dorm, sitting on the floor talking together. It had been a long time since you had gotten some girl time, and no other time was better than after partying your heart out.

You pulled out your phone and stared at it, tuning out Katara and Toph as they started going on about one of their classes. You had an internal conversation with yourself, then unlocked it and went to your messages. Drunk you was taking control, and drunk you was not the smartest.

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar smau #atla smau #atla #smau #social media au #zuko #zuko smau #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader #avatar the last airbender smau #fic #writing #sadie writes

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years

Text

Companions React to Sole Getting Pregnant/Getting Them Pregnant

Cait:

"What the hell did we do?"

To say she is at very least disgruntled would be a understatement. In reality, even if she wasn't clean before, she sure would get that way as quickly as she could manage. Terrible nightmares of her awful childhood would terrorize the woman to point of her breaking down a lot. However she knows that she will be the furthest thing from what her mum and da were and within time, she'll begin to warm up to the idea of having a baby. Subconsciously she sees it as a chance to right was has been wronged with her family. The only downside she begins to see is that she would be not at all fit to smash heads in.

Curie:

"Im so excited!"

She wasn't quite sure that such a thing was possible but she'd be a liar if she said she wasn't thrilled to see how it would progress. Admittedly the gravity of the situation wouldn't be felt until she began to swell, then she'd have to take a moment to process the magnitude. Luckily she is probably the most equipped to care for an infant, only second to codsworth.

Danse:

"Seriously? This...this is wow."

If it was pre blind betrayal he'd practically spin you around before rushing you straight to Captain Cade. It wasn't such a hefty duty like it was in other divisions of the BoS, but procreation was still highly encouraged. It was so much more than that to Danse though, he really loves you and the thought of having a little mini mix of you and him running around made him feel joy he thought was impossible to feel.

However if it's post blind betrayal the ex-paladin's amber eyes would be as big as saucers. He didn't think he would be able to impregnate you considering he didn't really think he was "human" enough. Of course it shocked the hell out of him, his anxiety would worsen to the point of his hands shaking. Not for any other reason other than he was terrified that the baby wouldn't turn out okay, being a mix like that? It was a lot to wrap his mind around. Regardless of his feelings, they eventually settle down and he can't help but pull you into perhaps a too tight hug. So long as the baby and you are okay in the end he's still happy.

Deacon:

"Hey that's not funny, you can't pull a me on me."

He honestly thought you were dead ass lying to him for the majority of the time, occasionally playing along when you gave him a particularly cold glare. Therefore whenever you actually started showing, his world came crashing down and pure horror flooded his veins. When you asked what was wrong and he revealed his beliefs he wasn't really surprised when you smacked him. Boy was he going to make it up to you though.

Gage:

"I beg your pardon?"

It was right about then that gage wished he had drank or maybe accidentally got second hand jet fumes, anything to excuse him hallucinating. No way. He's a bit more responsible than you'd give him credit for though, because once the shock settled he took you into his lap and looked you in the eyes before surprising even you as he devised some elaborate plan that would allow you to remain in power while keeping the baby a secret. Power armor was about to be your best friend. He'd personally murder everyone if they dare try to hurt his baby.

Hancock:

"You are just full of surprises aren't you?"

Much like a post blind betrayal Danse, he didn't think he'd be able to "supply" because of what he is. However unlike the synth he wouldn't have an absolute internal melt down. Instead he would actually be pretty damn content, suggesting making an "improved" goodneighbor for the little one. It probably wouldn't be much of a change but it surely would beat living in a settlement with limited power and settlers that may have a vendetta against his kind.

Macready:

"Again? I'm just kidding, I've got you. Luckily I'm a seasoned veteran."

He may be a little spooked but he won't show it. If anything he mainly fears breaking the news to a newly adjusted duncan. Aside that he is actually pretty damn excited. This was just the ribbon tying your little family together and he was living for it.

Maxson:

"...*cue the drink glass shattering*...Really? Well...um, woah."

The young elder would definitely be pleased with the news. Surprised, scared as hell, but definitely happy. After skirting the shattered glass he'd haul you up into his arms, embracing you and grinning like an idiot. Certainly a much better look on the usually gloomy looking man. He wasn't oblivious to the responsibility that now rests on both of your shoulders, and he may or may not become the slightest bit paranoid and make you take a leave from combat until further notice, but he was ready to step up to the challenge with you by his side. Plus he'd be super proud, honored to have you.

Old Longfellow:

"How the fuck..?"

Whenever you broke the news to him he was in disbelief. He was far too old, or so he thought at least. The undeniable evidence was enough to make him a believer though. Once it was proven to him, he practically fell to his knees. The very first time you've seen tears come to his eyes was that night. For once Longfellow believed that there was some kind of higher being that for once wasn't screwing him over, instead giving him back what was so wrongfully stolen. He'd be a changed man from there on, but in the best of ways.

Piper:

"Oh shit."

Her first instinct was of course to scream into a pillow. Afterwards when she regained her composure, she told you in quite possibly the most elaborate, stalling way she could manage. Once the news was out, she'd have a hard time deciding wether or not to skip town with her sister and you. After all she didn't quite think it was as safe in diamond city as others did, and having a baby was the final straw.

Preston:

"General, I mean, (y/n)..we're..we're going to be a family?"

He was so happy when you told him. His beautiful chocolate eyes widening before squinting from the absolute force of his ecstatic smile. He wasted no time from there to grab you in a hug, only to drop down to his knees and put his head against your soon to swell mid section. It was a dream come true to him, he knew it would be scary, but it would all be worth it.

X6-88:

"Interesting."

At first he would seem unfazed, his usual stone exterior showing. However within seconds he broke down, taking off his shades before grabbing you, putting his head in your shoulder and apologizing, rejoicing and flipping out all in one huge burst of emotion. Much like danse and Hancock, he didn't think it was possible.

#fallout #fo4 companions #fallout companions #fallout 4 #curie #hancock #macready #paladin danse #porter gage #elder maxson #maxson #elder maxon #maxon

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mithranqueersmusings · 3 years

Text

I Think I'll Love You Too III

Chapter: 3/?

Rating: U

Summary: George and Ringo have been going out officially for a couple of months. Ringo anticipated that dating a stripper would be complicated, but he didn't understand exactly how complicated it would be.

Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo hadn't been back to The Helter Skelter since he and George had started dating, much to the disappointment of John who had been begging constantly. However there cane a point where George began to grow suspicious, evidently he was worried that his relationship history was beginning to repeat itself. Not that he expressed any of these concerns to Ringo, instead he dropped passive aggressive hints and made vague comments which unfortunately reminded Ringo of the potential downsides to dating. Once the clues had been deciphered, Ringo vowed to return to the club the following night which seemed to please both John and George.

"You're not gonna get jealous are you?" George had asked while getting ready for his shift "Because if you are, just don't come."

Ringo certainly wasn't enjoying the harsher side of George but he understood the defensive tactic well "Of course not." He sat behind George who was doing his makeup in the mirror and wrapped his arms around his waist "What have I got to be jealous about?"

"I'm just saying..." George leaned in to the touch "You might think you won't get jealous, but when you see me rubbing my arse on some ugly bloke you might flip."

"George." Ringo said sternly "Stop worrying, please. I'll be just fine."

"Hmm, if you're sure." George sounded distracted as he coated his eyelashes in mascara.

Ringo had headed back home when George had left for work, he saw no use in hanging around the club so early in the evening. He caught up on some much needed sleep, his body was still rather exhausted. When night fell, John was excitedly knocking on Ringo's door. Awakening feeling groggy and disoriented Ringo shuffled over to open it. John burst in immediately, swinging the door so violently that Ringo had to jump backwards to avoid being hit.

"Jesus!" Ringo scolded "Could've taken my nose off."

"I'd be doing you a favour." John joked with a grin, collapsing onto Ringo's sofa "You got anything to drink?"

"Nice to see you too." Ringo scoffed, closing the door.

The two of them shared a few cold beers before heading out to the club, blasting the radio as they drove through the night. John was eager to see Paul, even though they'd spent the last few nights together, it was refreshing for Ringo to see his best friend so happy.

Ringo had forgotten how loud the music had been, the vibrations rattling in his ears as they made their way past the bouncer and into the warmth of the club. It was relatively packed, unsurprisingly for a Saturday night, but luckily their usual seats at the bar were free. John didn't even have to order a drink, as soon as he sat down he was being served without a word. Ringo supposed it would be an impressive sight if they weren't in a strip club, the thought passed his mind that John had paid the bartender prior just to make him look cool.

Ringo didn't recognise the dancer on stage, they had short platinum blonde hair and intricate tattoos dotted across their skin. Neither of them paid much attention, far more invested in their own conversation. Eventually they were shooed away from the bar to make room for other customers, so they sat at the back of the rows of chair and continued their nonsensical discussion as best they could.

"Ey up." John's tone changed as he nodded his head towards the stage "Someone's got their eye on you."

Ringo didn't register the words entirely at first, both his thoughts and visions gradually blurring as he drank more and more. John nudged Ringo to direct his attention, the dancer was making their way through the throng of customers who were eagerly waving money in the air. Gradually they maneuverered over to Ringo and John, swinging their hips with their eyes glued to Ringo.

"Shit." Ringo breathed with a hint of a laugh.

He looked around the room to see if George was around, but there was no sign of him. As the dancer got closer and closer, Ringo figured there was nothing he could do but humour them and to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. He could hardly complain, it was the guy's job after all. John seemed ready to burst into a fit of laughter upon witnessing Ringo's dilemma, his face scrunched up in an attempt to keep it in.

It was strange to compare the difference in emotion Ringo felt when being singled out by this new dancer versus how he'd previously felt with George; surprisingly the nerves were still present but were far more of a negative rather than actual excitement. Ringo leaned back in his chair a little in an attempt to gain some distance from the blonde dancer who had begun gyrating in front of him, but the gesture was mistaken for encouragement as he only intensified his lewd movements. John's laughter began pouring from his pursed lips, luckily the music masked the noise so that the dancer took no notice.

Ringo felt a hand on his shoulder, he assumed it was John trying to further his discomfort but then he heard shouting behind him and he knew something was up. Turning his head, Ringo saw an extremely pissed off looking George.

"You trying to be funny?" George was yelling, his hand possessively pressing down on Ringo's skin.

The other dancer seemed unfazed, passing George a momentary glance before reaching his hand forward to caress Ringo's cheek; at least that's where Ringo assumed he was aiming for it never reached it's destination. George gripped the dancer's wrist, the anger in his face melting away into a strange kind of satisfaction.

"Watch it." George spoke in a low voice, Ringo hardly even heard it.

By this point John was unable to restrain his emotions, his mouth agape in shock for a few moments before laughing again; George paid no attention to him, his dark eyes fixed solely on the blonde in front of him. He tried to shake George's hand off, it was causing quite the scene, but couldn't. After a few more moments of struggling, George released his grip and the dancer shuffled sheepishly away and attempted to finish their number with the little dignity they had left.

Ringo started laughing now, mostly because he was nervous, but was silenced when George ordered him to meet him outside. John gave Ringo a look which said 'good luck' with a mixture of both encouragement and worry.

In the cold air of the night Ringo felt himself sobering up a little, he hadn't fully registered the whole situation but it still felt pretty comical to him, though that may have just been the alcohol.

"You alright?" Ringo broke the silence, offering George a cigarette who snatched it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." George mumbled as he lit it.

"One too many 'yeah's there, I think." Ringo chuckled.

George just looked at him, saying nothing. Ringo knitted his brows together in worry.

"Er- You gonna say anything?" Ringo shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly.

George said nothing for a few more moments then finally said "I'm sorry."

Ringo laughed again "Sorry? For what?"

"I..." George broke off his speech with a huff "That was out of line. On my part, I mean."

Ringo rolled his eyes and moved closer to George, interlacing their fingers together "Don't be daft, George. I get it."

"But- I just..." George sighed, Ringo had never seen him so internally frustrated, he tried to speak again but Ringo silenced him with a kiss.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me." Ringo said firmly, his hands cupping George's cheeks.

"I- Alright..." George huffed, closing his eyes in an attempt to dispel the frustration "I really hate that new prick."

Ringo laughed, breaking whatever tension was laugh "I can tell. What's his deal anyway?"

"Oh, I dunno." George flicked his cigarette away "Think he's jealous of me or something. Can you blame him?"

"Not at all." Ringo hummed happily, planting a short kiss on George's now cold lips.

Ringo could feel the tension leaving George's body: his shoulders lowering, his breath slowing. He wondered whether he'd ever be able to have a drama-free night at this place.

"You wanna go back in?" Ringo offered, rubbing his thumb on George's cheek before pulling the hand away entirely.

"Sure, sure." George still seemed a little distracted, Ringo knew he wasn't being told everything "Let me get you a drink."

"If you're offering." Ringo smiled, leading the way back into the humid club.

"Will you stay until I finish?" George asked, sounding almost shy "Please." He added after a moment.

"Of course." Ringo held the door open for George to walk through.

Inside George led them over to the bar where he ordered another round for both Ringo and John. He placed a brief kiss on Ringo's cheek then vanished into the crowds. Ringo let out a huff of air, managing to find John who had moved to the front of the stage and was hollering even louder than the music. It was no mystery as to why, Paul was currently onstage spinning around the pole in a way Ringo only assumed was incredibly difficult. He was wearing no shirt yet a multicoloured tie was hanging around his neck, his trousers a sheer black material with relatively high platform boots on his feet.

When John realised Ringo had returned, he offered him a cheesy grin which revealed how drunk he really was. His face lit up when Ringo offered him yet another drink, accepting it gladly and downing it almost instantly.

"Everything alright?" John yelled into Ringo's ear, his eyes not moving from Paul.

"Yeah." Ringo shouted back, it was all that needed to be said.

As soon as Paul had finished his number, he sought John out in the crowd instantly and the two disappeared giggling excitedly into one of the private room. This left Ringo alone to think and, more importantly, drink. He spotted the blonde dancer serving drinks later on but avoided eye contact as best he could.

George had been appearing and disappearing throughout the night but Ringo didn't really mind, it wouldn't be too long until the club was closing for the night. Ringo tucked himself away in a distant corner, finishing an array of drinks and scrolling through his phone aimlessly.

Eventually John resurfaced, dark bruises dotting the skin of his neck, with a very satisfied grin. He didn't hang around for too long, helping Ringo finish some of his drinks, before excitedly saying goodbye to head to Paul's for the night. It was a relief to Ringo, he no longer had to worry about getting him home safely.

George appeared only several minutes later, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat from exertion. Ringo smiled at him drunkenly, stumbling up from his seat and banging into the table which knocked a few empty glasses over.

"Ready to go?" Ringo asked "You're sober enough to drive, right? Because I am not."

"Sure thing." George pulled Ringo close to his body "I'm bloody knackered, let's just get to bed."

Ringo made a noise of agreement "Lemme just have a piss, then we'll go."

"You don't wanna go in there, trust me." George scoffed, nodding his head towards the toilet "It gets blocked every night, it's dead grotty."

Ringo curled his lip up in disgust "Really? I don't care, I'll just-"

George stopped Ringo from turning away "No, no, really, it's dreadful. I'll just get us home quick, alright?"

There was a strange tone to George's voice, at least Ringo thought so but his senses were considerably dulled from the alcohol. Ringo gave him a quizzical look but allowed himself to be pulled out of the club all the same, his stomach feeling a little sensitive as the car pulled out onto the road.

George was silent, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he drove. Ringo wasn't quite sure what was awaiting him when they were fully alone back at George's place, but he knew it was something big.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfic #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #ringo starr/george harrison #starrison #george harrison/ringo starr #george harrisonxringo starr

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poptod · 4 years

Text

Miscreation

Description: You're a magician in Ancient Egypt, but you have to keep your magic secret, as it isn't quite 'normal' magic. The youngest prince takes a liking to you.

Notes: i can’t believe i never put this up on this account??? its been written for ages i jus forgot about it. this is the story where piye is from! Word Count: 20k

As the world came to be, magic was instilled within it. It was up to humans to decide where that magic was though - and it was a line you simply couldn’t establish. It’s in the skies, they said, and in our souls. Others would say that it simply did not exist. It’s in the structures we build and the art we make, they said. But it intertwines in your fingers, and the future shines through blind eyes, and though you may not look it, magic runs through your essence. So, in all of Kemet, you were most likely one of the very few people who really knew what magic was.

The high priests and priestesses read from old books that gave shoddy and false potions, with spells and mixtures that did naught but smell awful. You knew, even as a child, that you would never turn down that path. Not only because the reading would be simply awful and very few would believe you, but because of your standing; a half blind, abandoned child in the desert, a cloth over their eyes and wrapped in silk, would never climb very far in life. However, under the protection of the man by the name of Adom who had picked you up, the unwanted child, you stayed in his shop, working for him, and generally living a pleasant life. He never had very much, but he was somewhat of a father, and had his own gift in magic.

“You were born with a gift,” he would tell you as a child. “Not many at all will understand it.”

The year you turned nine, Adom was put under the employ of the palace, as a private consort. His main job was to tell the future, to heal and protect, and in respect to your privacy, not once did he ever mention your own talents.

“In your own time,” he told you when you asked.

You stood behind your father, practically cowering, as the pharaoh spoke of his new duties. He prattled on for quite a while, but your grip on Adom’s skirt did not lessen. As he bowed, and made to leave to new chambers, the pharaoh halted him.

“What is that behind you?” He asked in a soft, and mildly intrigued voice. He leaned forward in his throne, resting his chin on his intertwined hands. You gulped, shrinking further behind Adom.

“This is my child, Piye,” he said, taking your hand and pulling you into the pharaoh’s vision. Despite your fear, you stood tall, keeping your eyes forward.

“Is it going to be staying with you…?”

Adom nodded a yes.

He turned to his wife, sitting next to him, and spared a quick glance at his two sons to his right. The couple whispered to each other for only a minute, before the two of you were once more dismissed. Clutching Adom’s hand so tight your knuckles began to ache, you followed him out of the room.

From that day on, your already hectic life changed drastically into an even more frenetic life. In all sessions you stayed with your father, watching silently from beside him as he worked his own magic in special ways you desperately wished to learn. On the days he had little to do, he sent you off on chores, purchasing different ingredients for both food and spells. With access to all knowledge needed, purchasing books no longer became a problem. Your only main problem was your socialization issue.

He was so lonely, the kings’ youngest son. His brother, as you could tell from their limited interactions, did not get along well with him. Until you came along, it was just the two of them. Yet your anxiety was in such a state that for two whole years you didn’t even know their names. By the time you were eleven, the younger prince was twelve, and the eldest fourteen, and the siblings fighting was at an all time high.

From the corner of the mostly-empty room you watched them bicker, which mostly consisted of the elder throwing verbal abuse at the younger while the younger deflected it with pure intellect and cruelty. Something must’ve struck a nerve, as the eldest stormed off, and the younger sat on the floor and began to cry.

Feeling your heart pound, you made slow footsteps till you made it to the center of the room, and kneeled down beside the boy.

“Is everything okay?” You asked in a meek voice, your mind reminding yourself over and over again that one wrong move could get you killed. Were you supposed to even be speaking with him? Your palms began to sweat at the thought.

“Yes, I’m…” he sniffed, wiping his cheeks dry, “I’m alright. Kahmuh is - he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

You waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t you asked, “what did he say?” in just as quiet a voice as before.

“Jus’ something about my parents,” he mumbled.

You sat fully down, wrapping your arm over his shoulders. Somehow finding comfort in your touch, he leaned in, and soon his crying stopped.

For the next two years you remained friends with the boy, protecting him in instances with his brother, and defending him in the various arguments he’d get into. Overall, you found very little difference in the siblings. Both were entitled, and neither had a very well developed sense of sympathy or empathy. Rather, both boys were so entranced with their own selves that the only real reason you could find them talking to you is if they were fighting over you again.

You, over time, had become part of their feud, like a prize to be won, and from the moment you realized this it sickened you. By your third year in the palace, Adom took you aside.

“When I was your age, 14, I went on a sort of mission,” he said, kneeling to your height as he was monstrously tall. His hand stayed on your shoulder as he spoke to you, keeping your eye from straying in the torchlit hallway. “I looked for myself in the desert, and I sat atop a hill for many days till I… changed. It was just as mental as it was physical. But…” he paused, looking down with a shaky breath, “I’m giving you a choice. You don’t have to do this.”

For a moment you processed his words, contemplating the consequences of either action. To be perfectly frank you had no idea what 'finding yourself' meant, and what physical changes would happen to you. Was it different for every person? So you asked, and each answer felt satisfying.

“What kind of changes happened?”

“My hair grew long, and turned stark white. I also grew very, very tall. I was about your height before. And I could see the future much clearer than ever before. It seemed so simple, and it still is.”

“And… looking for yourself? What does that mean?”

“If you’ve ever felt like you don’t know yourself, or as though you are watching your own life pass as you can do naught but watch, this will get rid of it.”

“Are there any downsides to this whole thing?”

He sucked in a breath, and proceeded to explain what this journey would fully be. You would wander into the desert with only the clothes you wore daily, and you would walk along the Aur* for as long as it was deemed possible for two days. Then, looking out around the land, you would find climb to the highest peak, and sit, until the change happened.

“Will I not starve?” You asked quietly.

“There is food along the nile, and during your meditation, the gods will keep you alive.”

You had your doubts. But you trusted him more than you trusted yourself, and he was encouraging you. And, thinking back to the awful past years you’d been having, you thought a year alone might do some good.

Taking nothing, you left in the dead of night, and by morn the pharaoh was glad to see you gone. Though you weren’t sure if the pharaoh actually hated you, it was rather obvious he had a thing against people who couldn’t see very well. Even with his prejudice, he didn’t all together ban you from the palace - you knew Adom was far too important to simply cast out.

For two days you walked beside the Aur, coming across people that would thin once the city grew far off in the distance. By the first night, you made it to Lisht, passing by without stop. Walk for as long as you can, until you hit the two day mark.

In the morning, your speed has decreased horribly, and by evening, you made it halfway to El Lahun before collapsing in the heat below a shading tree. Panting, you looked around for any source of food. The water was behind you, you could hear the slow churning of water, but it was hardly very clean. Ahket** had already come to claim the land. As your head turned to the side, a spark of red caught your eye. Standing slowly, you walked over to it, finding red berries.

“Hopefully not poisonous,” you breathed out, shoving several in your mouth.

For the next week you spent your hours looking for the tallest peak, using your magic to seek it out and climbing said peak when it was finally discovered. There you sat, wind blowing through your hair, as you waited for answers to come. In that time, you grew, and your skin began to change. The color began to fade, being replaced with the darkest shade of night, as the hair atop your head grew into bright white.

The path returning home was easier. In the water, you could see your reflection, noticing you really looked just the same - only in seeming contrast. Your vision was much better than it ever had been, though not perfect. In a rather confused state, stumbling over rocks and knocking into tree branches, you realized being tall would take some getting used to.

The same as you left home, you arrived in the night. Being careful of lower ceilings and signs, you wandered through the backdoor of the palace, and crept back into your fathers’ room.

The two of you embraced after the long year apart, and the next morning, you were put to work. Walking through the halls you came across the royal siblings, once more bickering, but left in a confused, stammering mess as you passed by them on your way to Adom’s study. There, in the dim, no windowed library of a room, Adom taught you control of your abilities.

A few weeks after your arrival, the youngest pulled you aside to speak with you.

“Who are you?” He asked, and he would’ve looked mystified if he didn’t look so angry and confused.

“I am Piye. You knew me a year ago,” you told him, recognition sparking in his eyes.

“You’ve… changed,” he noticed, letting go of the wrist he’d held so tight. You nodded slowly, wary of any sudden movements he would make. “I have, too. I wondered where you went, but now that you’re back, I simply wanted to apologize for my behavior as a child. I was - well, I was rather rude.”

“A little,” you agreed hesitantly. “But I accept your apology.”

He smiled softly, and from there, invited you to join him for dinner that evening.

It wasn’t quite what you expected. Actually, it wasn’t what you expected at all. He had taken you down, into a little hideaway beneath trees that had grown tall beside the nile. The chill of night air cooled your skin, quelling any anxieties you might’ve had as the two of you sat on the ground.

“I would’ve taken you to my fathers feast,” he began to say, unpacking several items of food from the basket he carried, “but I wanted to talk to you more easily.”

“Really?” You asked, pouring wine from the bottle into two glasses. “Why is that?”

“You’ve been gone for a year! A whole year - what happened?” He leaned forward with wide eyes, his hands folded politely in his lap as he practically begged you for an account of the details. You chuckled in mild amusement of his antics. It all felt so… distant, now that you’d seen the world for what it is.

“I went on a soul searching mission, as Adom called it. It’s how he came to look, well, like he does.”

The topic interested him, clearly, as he proceeded to ask an avalanche of questions, one coming right after the other without a moments’ pause. In his flurry of speech he made several observations that almost had you blushing; how beautiful your skin was, how heavenly you seemed to glow, and how you resembled a god. Of course, at that point, you chided him, saying that it was rude to the gods. In honest reply, he said, “I don’t care.”

Most of the foods he brought were not finished, lying half eaten on the blanket he’d set out. Both of you spent too much time talking, and as the evening moulded into midnight, all thought of returning to the palace left you. Truly he had grown, and changed, in his manner, and the way he held himself. The tone he spoke in morphed as well - more bold, more meaningful, spoken in such a light and almost sweet way that you’d so easily forget who you addressed.

In this sudden trance of conversation, your thoughts began to slow, and as you stared ahead at him, trying to describe to you a conversation with his mother, you realized you could find a friend in him. That, and perhaps, a companion.

As the sun began to strike dawn above the river, you nearly jumped at your own shadow contrasting so suddenly with the darkness that had consumed you all night.

“Have we really stayed out that long?” Ahkmen gasped, already packing away the half-eaten container of dates.

“Oh dear,” you mumbled under your breath, helping him put everything away, and racing him to the palace. By the time you got there, the sun was just barely peaking over the mountains, the both of you laughing between pants. He bent down, hands on his knees as he took deep breaths, only to lose it again in a laughing fit when you giggled. There was something inherently joyful about his presence, that it could make such an occasion feel exhilarating when it was indeed dangerous.

“Come find me in the throne room in a few hours,” he said, his breathing slowing down as he grasped your upper arm.

“Why?”

“I want to show you something. Will you come?”

You nodded, letting out a breathy yes, smiling toothily as the two of you jogged down the corridors. His fingers trilled against the back of your hand as he dragged you, in full knowledge, to your rooms’ front door.

“Sleep for a little. I’ll see you soon,” he said quickly, his eyes darting around to see if anyone was watching, but always returning to you.

“I should say the same t-“

“Oh, go in!” He whisper shouted, pushing you into your room as a shadow drew near. You pressed your ear to the door, hearing nothing but footsteps. Assuming all went well, you snuck past sleeping Adom, who was passed out at his desk, and into your own bed.

For several hours you slept, dreaming of very little but the experience you just had. Thrilling in a childish way - you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to stay out so long, but Gods was it exciting, and somehow you longed for more. Not that you felt as though breaking rules was a good idea, quite the opposite. Still, there was something nagging at you to get to know the boy better.

Adom pulled the covers off your body three hours after you’d gotten them on, shoving you off the bed, all making you awaken in a crude state. On the floor, your hair a mess upon your head, and entirely disoriented.

“I’ve been called to court. Something important. Want to come?” He asked.

“Wasn’t there a nicer way to do that?” You grumbled, holding your aching head.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said with a shrug, turning to leave.

“Wait, I’ll come! Just a moment to get dressed,” you requested quickly, pushing him out of your bedroom and shutting the door to dress yourself in proper attire. As you finished, you smiled at your father, prompting him to nod quickly, and set off towards the throne room.

There you found a royal proceeding in order, one you’d seen before. The ordering of another temple, whether or not to do it, and if so, where, how many builders, and what the cost would be. A rather dull proceeding, and you began to regret waking so soon, till you caught the eye of Ahkmen. He smiled brightly, rolling his weight from his toes to his heel as he tried to keep a semblance of formality. You gave a small wave, but otherwise payed attention to the pharaoh.

“And which God is this again?” He asked, having clearly trailed off in thought.

“Uh,” Adom opened a scroll, “Amun, my king.”

For a moment, the pharaoh contemplated, leaning forward and scratching at the long beard on his chin. His eyes flickered upwards, to the architect in front of him, before nodding curtly.

“I want you to preside over cost, workers, and efficiency. See whatever budget you find fit.”

The architect nodded, thanking him profusely, before turning and walking spritely out the main entrance. Beside you, Ahkmen crept closer, before leaning down the few steps that separated you and whispering.

“Glad you came?”

“Is that what you wanted me to see?” You chuckled, knowing full well that it couldn’t be.

“Not at all. It’s in a few more appointments.” His father side eyed him, glaring and silently degrading his posture. “Be patient,” he said as he straightened to a position where you could no longer speak with him.

You watched several more meetings, feeling your senses dull as Adom stepped up to be beside the pharaoh. The longing to leave came many times, especially as you saw birds fly past the arches, and a sweet breeze blew into the room. By the fourth meeting, concerning some failed crop, you submitted yourself to your fate, knowing you couldn’t do much without appearing rude.

A man appeared, several boys you recognized to be carriers, who delivered letters and information behind him. Looking rather bedraggled, he bowed deep before the pharaoh, the boys doing the same, before he spoke.

“The plans for the Festival of Opet are all going well. Seems everything is alright, nothing too hectic this year. Your barge to Thebes will arrive within the week,” he said, keeping his head high and his gaze low. The pharaoh noticeably untensed, smiling at the news and nodded for the man to continue. “All that’s left is the feast, here in the city. You’ve ordered,” he cleared his throat, and a boy came forward, handing him a scroll. “for your son to look over the details. Now, you’ve, uh… is this your eldest or younger son?”

“My eldest,” the pharaoh clarified, glancing to his right, where the eldest stood. “And if there are issues with this arrangement, look to Adom.”

The man nodded, bowing and leaving the room. Only then did Ahkmen look at you again, pure anticipation written all over it with a bright smile to accompany. Politely, you smiled in return, unsure if that was what he wanted you to specifically see. As the Pharaoh stood to depart, his sons went their separate ways. Ahkmen to you, and Kahmuh to start with preparations.

“Was that it then?” You asked, following his lead down a different hallway than you came. Adom, too caught up in the Pharaoh’s needs for the impending trip, did not notice your departure.

“Yes! It’s one of the rare times my father leaves, and this time he’s finally putting Kahmuh in charge instead of me! He’s always making me do things, and it gets to be a bit much sometimes,” he admitted to his stress casually, his face still alight with eagerness.

“He puts his youngest in charge rather than his eldest? Doesn’t seem very wise, does it?”

“You haven’t fully met my brother,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“That bad, is he?” You asked, ducking your head as the open-arch hallway turned into a closed one.

“And worse. He’s done some really odd things, but hopefully this’ll mature him up a bit,” he said, turning into the kitchen. You followed, seeing a few servants about doing very little. At the prince’s presence they didn’t jump, so you safely assumed he was here often. Digging his hand into a bowl of figs and pulling out two, he handed one to you, and bit into his own. “But that might be wishful thinking.”

“He can’t screw up a feast that badly, can he? It’s just a dinner. It’s not like he’s controlling the Kings’ march from Thebes to Luxor, or steering his barge,” you tried, an odd attempt at comfort.

“Again, you’d be surprised. You could be right, but still! He’s done some… stuff,” he explained vaguely.

“Could you elaborate on that?” You examined the fig closely, looking up at him as you spoke.

“No,” he said through a mouthful of fig, the two of you breaking into giggles once he swallowed.

After earning odd stares from the servants, you patted him on the shoulder, gingerly leading him out the door.

“He and I don’t speak much anymore. I find it keeps the peace.”

“I saw you arguing with him not a few weeks ago,” you said, recalling the day after you returned.

“Yes, well, uh, that was important. He sabotaged a statue of our mother,” he said in a low voice, pulling you aside from your walk. You paused, noting that it was apparently a big deal.

“Really? What did he do?”

“… cut the nose off and destroyed it. It’ll take them a while to make another one and fit it on right,” he mumbled.

“Hm. No respect for elders or family. What a kind man,” you said sarcastically, continuing on your way down the hall. He agreed easily, following beside you, his steps faster to keep up with your long strides.

“I was taking us to the kitchen,” he said after you made your way out the front of the palace. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, are you still there?” You teased, looking down at him with a sly smile. He punched you lightly, frowning.

“I’m not so small that you’d forget me,” he fluffed. “Now answer my question.”

“Well, you like food, right?” You asked, turning down the street on a path you memorized long ago.

“Yes. But don’t phrase it like that.”

“Of course, your highness,” you said, a toying lilt in your voice. “There’s a place down here that does wonderful things with beer and bread.”

“Really?” He asked, expecting no answer as he followed you through the market, through half abandoned alleyways to this place you spoke of.

“Now it’s not very high class,” you told him, stopping in front of a rather rundown building, one that had no door and very few people inside.

“Should - should I take my things off?” He asked quietly, pointing to his golden necklace and bracelets. You looked around a moment, before pulling him into the alley beside the restaurant, handing him the shawl off your back.

“They’ll get stolen if you put them somewhere, and you’ll get noticed if you keep wearing them in plain sight,” you explained as he stammered, almost refusing but unwilling to present any other solution.

“Alright, uh, let’s get going then,” he faltered, pushing you ahead before going himself, raising your shawl to below his eyes.

Sitting in the corner, you were soon served, and as always, the food was excellent. Ahkmen noted that it was well worth the trip, and requested you take him there in the future as well.

“Do you think I could get the recipe for our kitchens?” He asked at the end of the meal, leaning forwards to get a better view into the kitchen.

“It’s a family secret. I’ve asked,” you chuckled, waving at the man who looked back at Ahkmen, startling him out of his trance.

“What a shame,” he murmured, only looking away from the kitchens when you interrupted his gaze, pulling him out of his seat and out the door.

Upon leaving he handed your shawl back to you, which you took graciously, pulling it over your shoulders as the two of you weaved through the growing crowd. The market was always crowded, and the streets preceding it grew steadily in the people present. You towered over most in your form, so if ever Ahkmen got lost in the chaos, he would look up to find you. Almost always you were right beside him.

“Do you ever worry for your city?” You asked quietly, walking up the steps of the palace. Furrowing his brow he turned to you, stopping you with a soft touch to your arm.

“What do you mean?” He stepped up a few steps to be equal with you.

“I mean, the line of succession. You hardly trust your brother with a feast, how will you think the city will fare with him as a king? Not only the city, but your world?”

“Somehow, you have the hardest questions to answer all the time. Can’t you loosen up? How old are you?”

“I’m 15,” you answered.

“You’re younger than I am, and so worried about the state of things. It’ll work itself out, and not yet. I doubt my father is ready to give up the throne,” he assured you, a small smile gracing his lips as he tapped your shoulder, signalling the walk up the steps had been resumed.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, the thought still bothered you. Perhaps your own father would have a say over it, but you doubted it still. There was really no option, and certainly no advice from you would be heeded, so for the time you tried to let it go.

“The sun is always hottest midday, so I make it a rule of mine never to be out midday,” he told you as shade enveloped you both, cooling hot skin from the beating sun.

“Sounds a fair rule,” you replied.

The two of you ventured through the halls and rooms, making your way past the throne room on tip toe.

“I don’t want any part in the planning,” he whispered, explaining his odd behavior, sticking to the walls and staying silent as possible. You nodded, glancing back to Kahmuh every now and then, hoping your rather monstrous form wouldn’t be noticed.

Right as his foot stepped through the archway to the next room, a boisterous voice called through the room, calling his attention.

“Brother! Come help with this!”

His shoulders slumped, and quickly resuming a prouder posture, he turned with a smile. Good at faking, you noted to yourself, for any future occurrence where it might prove crucial. You followed him, staying by his side as Kahmuh asked redundant questions only meant to irk his brother. He was doing it well, too - Ahkmen was clearly very annoyed. His eyes kept an intense glare, but a friendly smile stayed as he answered.

“And of the musicians? Whom should we hire?” Kahmuh asked, tapping his chin in deep thought.

“Uh,” he stammered, taken unawares by a more important question. “Shouldn’t we hire our usual?”

“Yes… that harpist is rather good.”

You tried to recall the band, but came up with little other than background imagery from the various parties your father had attended with you. With a nod to his inferiors, the eldest prince sent away the servants, leaving just you, your newfound friend, and his rather conniving brother.

“I see you two have rekindled your friendship,” he said, surprisingly calm about it. His face showed no change in demeanor, a small smile on his lips and unusually beady eyes.

“Something of the sort,” Ahkmen replied, smiling curtly. “I was just escorting Piye back to their room.”

“Ah. Well, don’t let me disturb you,” he said, side eyeing you as he turned to face the front of the room. There was something sly about him, and not entirely truthful, but your basis was empty. Thus, you dismissed your speculation as simple fear, following Ahkmen’s lead into and through the halls to your room.

Standing at the open door of your room, he took your hands, looking into your eyes. Behind you, you could feel Adom’s gaze burning into the base of your head. Ahkmen must not have noticed, though, as he spoke rather plainly.

“Tomorrow, I want to meet you at the hill overlooking the nile. Do you, uh, have any prior commitments?”

“None at all. What time?”

“After noon, I think. I have an idea I want to try out,” he said with a playful smile. In turn you narrowed your eyes, wondering what scheme he was cooking up, and whether or not it was something you wanted to be involved in. Either way, if you got caught, he’d take the blame.

“Alright, I’ll join you.”

“Good. Now get some sleep,” he said, patting your shoulder rather awkwardly, a hesitant tap and then a full pat.

With a quick turn, he vanished down the hallway, leaving you with your father. Slowly, you turned around, watching carefully for his reaction. Casually, he looked up from his stew, book in hand, his eyes dull with exhaustion.

“Fraternizing with the prince?”

“He invited me first,” you explained, appearing as fast as you said the words at his side.

“And… get some sleep? Would that have to do with your little outing last night?”

You froze, eyes widening. You weren’t at all aware that he knew - you thought yourself rather silent, actually.

“Um - I just…”

You trailed off, watching as a small smile grew into a grin, till Adom belted out a laugh, moving to his feet. Though his eyes still drew heavy with sleep, he patted you on the back, and the smile remained.

“I’m only joking. I’m glad you’ve got a friend. Even if he’s, well, royal.”

Nodding, you dismissed yourself, just barely reaching your room before your composure completely broke.

What a relief, you thought to yourself.

After a good while of studying law, per Adom’s request, you laid yourself to rest in the evening. The next day continued as usual - breakfast with Adom, reviewing subject material, before court with the King (or, in this case, the kings’ terrible son), till afternoon swung around and your free time began. At least, as long as your father didn’t have any errands he needed you to run in his place.

As the seemingly endless meetings finally came to an end, Ahkmen pulled at your sleeve, breaking you secretly away from your place at Adom’s side. It wasn’t until you reached a darkened hallway, lit by distant sunlight that you finally broke free, and he turned around suddenly.

“What in the world were you thinking?” You hissed, your head whipping back the way you came to see if anyone had followed you, before promptly refocusing your glare on Ahkmen.

“The meetings were especially long today, don’t you think?” He asked as an avoidance of your question, his hands settling on his hips.

“… Yes. There are several things about today that have certainly occurred. Like taking me prematurely from Adom before finding out if he needed me after court!”

“You seriously call it court?”

“That’s what it’s ‘seriously’ called. It’s the official name.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Well, it’s a bit colder today. Fluctuating weather or something - I wanted to get out before the wind got bad,” he said, grabbing your wrist and once more dragging you down the hall, aiming for that distant hill overlooking the Aur.

Against your better judgement you let him take you, through whatever path he saw fit, your feet dragging behind you as he ran. You could almost roll your eyes at his antics. So childish, you thought, especially for a prince. Even a younger one. Perhaps his immaturity was a result of the exact reason he shouldn’t have been. You could hardly let your mind dwell on it, racing down the short but numerous steps leading down to the ground.

From your position the river wasn’t in sight, but the cliff Ahkmen ran towards was. You pulled at his hand, grasping and intertwining his fingers in yours, finally bringing him to a steady but anxious halt. Panting, he knelt in the sand, looking up at you with a gleaming grin.

“Good exercise, yeah?”

“I suppose so,” you replied, largely unaffected by the exertion of energy. After letting him breathe for a moment, you held your hand out. He took it, and you lifted him to his feet.

“So here’s my idea. You know how the sand here isn’t exactly steady? It’s, sort of precarious?”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking. What if we sort of.. stood at the edge, and stomped our feet, and we could ride the falling sand into the water?”

For a whole of two minutes you stared at him, trying to decipher if he was kidding or not. In that time, he did not flinch, continuing to stare expectantly at you, his hands once more on his hips. Blinking, you decided he was not joking.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course!” He replied immediately.

“You’re an idiot.”

“We all know that,” he laughed. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Sighing, and tilting your head to the sky, you shut your eyes tight.

“You’re going to do this no matter if I join or not?”

“That’s about right, my friend.”

“Fine,” you practically spat, after another moment of contemplation. “I’ll do the - I’ll join you, but only because I’m worried you’re going to hurt yourself. I will garner no joy from this.”

“I told you this yesterday, and I will tell you again,” he said, moving to hold your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing softly against the back of your hands. “Loosen up.”

“This could kill you.”

“And?”

That’s worrying, you thought to yourself, unable to express that thought before he stood at the very edge, stomping with his sandals at the loose sand. Rushing to his side, you held his upper arm, ready to catch him if any harm should befall.

“Come on, then! Join me! What with your size, should happen much faster,” he said, and gingerly you began stepping at the ground. Not full stomping, just the weight and strength you’d use while walking. None of that mattered though, as the ground beneath you began to move, and the two of you surged forward.

You would’ve shut your eyes were you not so worried of losing track of the prince. The grip you held on him tightened, making sure that you wouldn’t separate in the landslide running down to the nile. Wind surged past your face, the mild air stinging at your open eyes. Swallowing thick, you tried to breathe, and waited for the fall to end.

By the end, half the sand of the hill had flooded into the Aur, dirtying the water and blocking it from flowing as well. You glared over at Ahkmen, buried in sand up to his shoulders.

“It’s going to take forever to get you out of there,” you sighed.

“At least it only goes up to your chest,” he pointed out helpfully. Rolling your eyes, you cleared the sand with your hands, digging yourself out before helping him.

“This was a terrible idea,” you told him, helping him to his feet.

“Not my worst though,” he said, mumbling a thank you and dusting himself out. His skin tinted a red from the irritation of sand against it for so long.

“Really? What did you do, break your skull open?” You asked, leading the two of you back up to the palace.

“Actually,” he said, grunting and wincing as his skin rubbed against itself, “I tried to befriend an alligator.”

“One of the ones down at the temple? I thought they were rather nice.”

“Those ones are. Not wild ones though.”

You stopped, staring at him.

“Wild ones? Did your mother not love you or something?! How many times a year do you do these idiotic things?”

“About three or four times a week, according to my brother. I don’t think they’re stupid though! And let me explain myself -“ he chuckled, “- I’m just having fun. A lot of it, too, and I haven’t died yet.”

“Half your heart*** obviously has.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, no offense intended, your majesty,” you laughed, bowing dramatically low as the two of you walked back into the shadowed hall of stone.

“You’re pardoned. For now,” he said, side eying you cheekily, a smile playing at his lips.

Giggling, you elbowed him, partially unbalancing him.

“Ah,” he said quietly, rubbing the place where you hit him. “A bit sensitive.”

“I’ll take you to the baths,” you sighed, rolling your eyes and directing him towards the bathroom. He halted, tugging at your sleeve to stop you. “What?”

“I don’t use the servants baths,” he said, chuckling, almost astounded. Frowning, you turned to him.

“If it gives you such offense, I will see you in a while then. I’d like to take my own bath considering how unclean your exploits make one.”

“No, you can join me if you’d like,” he returned quickly, pulling at your sleeve again as you began to head to your own quarters. For a moment, there was naught but silence as the two of you watched each other.

“Okay,” you agreed. “As long as next time, you come see what I have to deal with daily.”

“Agreed,” he said with a smile, and the both of you shook hands.

The path to your new destination took you up several flights of stairs, winding through hallways you’d never before seen, all decorated intricately. Torches lined the hall in even stands, all unlit as night had not yet come. Sun still shined through the open arches.

“Just down this way,” he assured you, the pathway growing more and more confusing till you were sure you would never find your way back alone, till at last a door opened to a chamber, the arches open and warm water steaming the air from nearby stoves. The tubs were built into the raised floor, the two of you walking up the short steps to the base floor.

Servants came from seemingly nowhere, waiting on you, undressing you as you tried to brush them away.

“Uh - is this customary?” You asked anxiously, trying to signify to the servants that you didn’t want to be served.

“Hm?” He turned around, laughing when he saw your awkwardness. “Do you not usually have people helping you?”

“No,” you answered firmly. “It’s not usual.”

“It’s not unusual for us, no. Just let them do their job,” he tried to convince you, his voice quiet and smooth.

“I don’t think I will. Please, I can do this alone,” you said, turning to the servants. Glancing at each other, they nodded, leaving you be. You let out a breath, undressing yourself in peace and climbing into the too small bath, your knees coming up to your chest but enjoying the warm water nonetheless.

Behind you, you heard sniggering, causing you to turn. Ahkmen, situated in the tub behind you, was laughing at your condition. Swiveling yourself around in the water, you turned to him, wide eyed and glaring.

“Something humorous?”

“Sort of,” he snorted.

“I’d be ever so indebted if you shared it with me.”

“I was just… thinking of you. Sharing a bath with someone else. I don’t think it’d end well.”

“Sounds too intimate for me,” you replied, ignoring the degrading insinuation.

“What’s that mean? Scared of intimacy?”

“Not at all. But I don’t exactly look the part,” you chuckled heartlessly, looking down at yourself. Sure, dark skin was absolutely beautiful, but… not black skin. Dark as night skin was… well, it made you insecure to say the least. In the very least, you hadn’t met anyone like you except Adom, and your height wasn’t exactly helping your insecurities. When you discovered what you looked like, the dawning realization that you were no longer attractive, not in this culture, came very slowly, but it came nonetheless.

“What in the world do you mean by that? Are you saying you aren’t attractive?”

“Yes? I don’t exactly meet societal standards -“

“That’s a load of shit, and a horrible way of thinking. I think you’re very attractive as you are. You’ve got a nice face, and your freckles are white, which I think is very cool.”

“I have freckles?” You asked softly, your hand coming up to stroke your cheek. How had he noticed something about you that you had not seen before?

“Um,” he said, choking up when he realized he’d definitely just confessed to staring at your face, “yeah. I mean, they’re nice n’ all, uh…” he trailed off, sinking into his bathwater.

“… thank you,” you mumbled, still absently stroking your cheek.

The rest of the bath was enjoyed, or tolerated, in both warmth, comfort, and extreme emotional discomfort.

As night approached, the sun disappeared over the mountains, leaving the land in a shadowy state. Torches were lit by servants, and both you and Ahkmen, fully dressed in cleaner and nicer clothing, wandered down the long hallways once more towards your own room for you, and the dining hall for him.

“Despite todays failings,” you said, looking pointedly at the red stomach shown by his lack of clothing there, “I had a good time.”

Quietly he chuckled, growing slowly louder till he finally spoke.

“You said you wouldn’t enjoy yourself! Ha! I win!”

“Win what?!”

“I told myself that I could make you have fun in a stupid way, and I just won!”

“It doesn’t count if I don’t know about it!”

“Ah, or perhaps not, my friend! You see, if you knew about it,” the two of you had now stopped walking in the hallway, facing each other, “you might not have told me that, even if you did enjoy your day.”

“I don’t lie,” you sniffed, feeling mildly insulted.

“Sure you don’t, but I don’t know that about you yet. In the future,” he straightened out his skirt, leading the way as you began walking again, “I will tell you about such competitions.”

“Right. Well I thank you then, my prince.” Once more you bowed, but his smile faltered for a second, before regaining its’ regular brightness.

“Have a good dinner,” he said as you stood outside your door.

“You as well. Don’t fight your brother.”

“You can’t make me do anything.”

“But I can advise you so I can tell you ‘I told you’ later.”

Glancing at you, a smirk upon him, he nodded.

“Fair game.”

For the next several days, you counted your lucky Gods that he hadn’t tried to make you do anything else dangerous. He was nursing a bad burn from the sand, so you thought that’d keep him sated in the very least. You were deeply, unequivocally wrong.

He sat in bed, the burn having gotten worse from the night before. All along his body, medication in the form of cream and lotion sat upon his skin, rendering him immobile. This fact, while annoying him, did not deter him from annoying you and pushing your emotional energy past its’ limit.

“Do you think it’s edible?” He asked as you sat beside him, reading from one of the various scrolls Adom had given you.

“What?” You asked blandly, not looking up.

“You know, the stuff they put on me. It smells good.”

“I’d assume not. If the smell is making you hungry, I can go fetch something.”

“I’m going to eat it.”

“No you aren’t.”

Though you kept your eyes trained on your reading, you could see him, from the corner of your eye, dipping his finger into the lotion and bringing it to his mouth, before gagging at its taste.

“Oh Gods.”

“I told you.”

“Oh my Gods that’s… that’s awful.”

“I definitely told you.”

“Yes you did,” he said, sucking in a breath.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am not!”

“You just ate skin medicine.”

He turned away from you, pouting without another word said. Clearing your throat, you went back to reading, ignoring his little session of anger. Slowly, the humor got to you, till you began to audibly chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, turning to you.

“Nothing. You’re rather… odd,” you settled on, hoping the description wouldn’t offend him terribly. Instead, the opposite effect took place, where he broke down into his own giggles, spurring on your own laughter till the two of you were giggling meaninglessly.

The next occasion in which he pushed himself in a direction he shouldn’t have, he picked a fight with his brother. It had been a few days, and his burn was much better, to the point where he could move like a mostly normal person. He walked alongside his brother, who was trailed by several servants and nobles, all worried about the upcoming celebration. Whenever they would try to speak to him, Kahmuh would wave them off, and continue talking to his brother. It wasn’t a kind voice he spoke in, rather a ridiculing one, and a tone with words so carefully chosen that Ahkmen couldn’t logically argue.

You walked in quiet step behind your friend, trying to keep your distance from the others following Kahmuh. Instead of bothering with their mean-spirited conversation, you looked at the greenery, blooming even in the colder season. Innovation was certainly thriving in Memphis, especially so in its’ gardens. From where you were, you could hear bits of their conversation, not fully absorbing yourself in their words till Kahmuh must’ve said something conniving, for which Ahkmen retaliated by grabbing the back of his brothers’ neck, and forcing his face into his raised knee.

Jumping forward, you grabbed Ahkmen’s arms, restricting him, and pulling him out of the way of what was sure to be a painful retaliation. As you left, Kahmuh cursed the both of you, before speaking in hushed voice with his fathers’ advisors.

“What in the world was that?!” You hissed, still restraining his hands and forcing him through the doors and back into the palace.

“He just insulted my parents!” He bit back, his eyes wild and angered.

“You can’t go into a fit every time he says something about your parents,” you tried to convince him in a hushed whisper, thinking past to several years ago, when the two brothers had been simply awful to each other.

“Piye, I don’t think you understand what he just said. I’ll say it in simpler words so you can understand; he can’t wait for them to die.”

“Don’t insult me,” you spoke bitterly, releasing him and pushing him forward. “I don’t have your education, or your status. I don’t have your experience, but do not believe me to be lower than you. No man is lower than you, nor is any higher.”

He rubbed the area of his arm that you had been holding tight, eyes downcast as he thought over his words. His stance remained tight, and his brow furrowed.

“I have an idea,” he finally said, looking up at you. You nodded, gesturing for him to continue. He cleared his throat and did so. “You should be my adviser.”

“That’s the first good idea you’ve had in months,” you commented with your arms crossed, mildly impressed.

“Well you can’t bully me if you’re going to agree to it,” he said with a comically exaggerated frown. You chuckled, breaking your stern exterior with a pleasant smile.

“None can deny you’re in desperate need of advice. Maybe some growing up to do, as well.”

“You’re insulting me again, you know,” he said as the both of you began walking down the long hallway in a slow meander.

“Is that not my job?”

As the days progressed into weeks he explained further what your job was to truly be. Into the details of how he didn’t really need an advisor, to which you quickly cut in, saying that he’d probably die if you weren’t his advisor. He agreed easily.

“That’s not the point, though,” he told you, sitting across from you at a wonderfully crafted table in his private room. “Only the Pharaoh needs advisors and all that. I’m not to become Pharaoh.”

“Now we’re getting into realistic fears.”

“I - I’m sorry?”

“A while back, I asked if you were concerned with your brother becoming King, considering his decisions aren’t exactly, um, sound, so to say.”

“Oh, right, right. Yes. Maybe we could run away,” he suggested, clearly joking, but for some reason, a feeling deep in your stomach told you that if you asked, he would comply.

“… Right,” you said slowly. “For now I’ll just label my job as ‘trying to keep an idiot alive.’”

“Again with the insults?”

“You literally, purposefully started a landslide. That’s on you.”

“You came along. And you had fun,” he pointed out with a goofy smile.

“I swear I’ll never tell you the truth again.”

“Then I will know you’re lying, and I’ll assume the opposite.”

“You’re infuriating, you know that, right?”

“A little. My parents love me.”

“That’s because you’re nicer and cuter than your brother.”

“You think I’m cute?” He leaned forward, a shit eating grin on his face as his eyes crinkled in teasing delight.

“Hardly,” you took a sip of your beer, “but I’m sure your parents think you are.”

“Aw,” he pouted, his bottom lip pushed out. You chuckled, shaking your head.

From there, conversation continued in small, quiet phrases as the two of you read your separate homework documents. Him, with his hieroglyphs and politics, and you with your magic and potions. Not that he fully knew what that was about - you had told him, during that first dinner, that you were training to become a healer. You told him nothing about the fact that you didn’t really need ingredients to produce fire, or water at the edge of your fingers. It wasn’t something Adom told you to easily share.

“When’s the festival again?”

You set your scroll flat on the table.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I wasn’t really paying attention. It was nice to not have to, you know?”

You sighed, understanding his logic. “It’s in two days.”

A cracking sound resounded in his chambers as he slammed his book down, eyes wide and alarmingly white.

“Two days? I haven’t even gotten measured for the - oh Gods, I need to talk to my brother!” He jumped out of his seat, rushing out the door and slamming it behind him. For a moment, you sat in the silence left in his absence, wondering what had just happened. Then, the door flew open once more, Ahkmen poking his head back into the room. “Come on! I haven’t got all day!”

“That’s not technically correct you’ve got two days,” you grunted out quickly as you stepped out of your own seat, running after him.

He had little reason to be stressed. Watching him from the corner of the room, relaxing on a comfortable pile of cushions, you felt more sorry for the people who had to put together an entire outfit for him in such a short amount of time. Still he fidgeted where he stood as they held gold and green fabric up to him.

“No green, please,” he requested, to which they quickly obliged.

“Why not? You only ever wear gold,” you commented, lazing your hours away.

“I’m not going to look like my brother and he loves green. It's his favourite.”

“If you began to look like your brother I think my eyes would start burning,” you said blandly, picking at your nails. He snorted, his posture slacking till one of the men measuring him pushed his back back into place.

“You can’t insult a prince in front of other people.”

“And you shouldn’t leave things like this until the last moment,” you retorted with a laugh.

He shut up after that. By the next day, his hurried costume was finished, decorated ornately with various streaks of gold and jewels. You tried to compliment the seamster on their work, but by the time you turned around, they were gone. Turning back to Ahkmen, you admired the way it fit him.

“It’s good, I think,” you said.

“You don’t think I made a mistake with the green?”

“Let’s just say you don’t look like your brother,” you joked, handing him the heavy golden crown. With a grateful smile and slight bow he took it, settling it gently upon his head. Looking into the floor length mirror in front of him, you tilted the crown slightly so it wouldn’t fall to one side. He murmured a thank you, fiddling with the thin cape he wore.

“You sure it looks okay?” He asked again.

“You look regal.”

“Don’t I always?” He teased, biting at his lower lip thoughtfully.

“Not covered in white grease and choking on it because you thought it might taste good.”

“That was one time,” he groaned. You still laughed at his discontentment, sitting back in one of his luxurious chairs he kept in his room.

Adom woke you early in the morning, hurriedly telling you of his duties, and warning that he would be gone for a while. As he rushed out of your room, you threw your covers off of yourself, running out after him.

“Adom! What do you mean, what’s happening?” You asked groggily, wondering what in the hell could have him so worried.

“What? Nothing, I need to prepare the image of Amun-Re for the celebration. You know, marching through the streets? You watched me a few years back,” he said, stuffing several herbs into his bag. In sudden recognition you nodded, a small ‘ah,’ escaping you as he flew out the door with a quick good bye. Blearily, you dressed yourself, and went to visit the prince.

Most mornings the halls were moderately filled - enough room to move about freely, with groups of people passing by every now and then. Though you expected this, from the years passed, the sheer number of people filling room left by stone walls was shocking. You towered above their heads, repeatedly excusing yourself and apologizing as you practically trampled over the horde. It didn’t help that everyone was going in different directions, either, rather hindering most everyones sense of direction except yours, the only one capable of seeing above the raucous crowd. When at last you met the wood doors sealing Ahkmen away from the noise, you slipped inside with a nod to the diligent guards placed outside his room, on either side of his door.

In a tangle of blankets, lying on his stomach, legs sticking out in two different directions and his arm over the back of his head, was the royal Prince, a supposed half god on earth, and a direct line to the deities. He snored softly, partially muffled by the soft pillows beneath him. Groaning quietly, with a small roll of your eyes, you stepped forward, pulling the blankets off of him with a harsh tug. With a bit of effort he at last unraveled, letting out his own ungraceful moan at harsh sunlight hitting his eyes and cooler wind upon his half naked skin.

“Today’s the day of the feast, and you’re sleeping in?” You asked, more astounded than you were annoyed, though fully annoyed nonetheless.

“I am a vessel of Ra’s power, and he says I can sleep,” he mumbled, pulling a pillow over his face.

“I thought you liked Khonsu more,” you said, taking the pillow from his grasp and setting it a safe distance away from him.

“Does it matter?” He looked up at you, his eyes dry but wide.

“Yes, now get up.”

He moaned incoherent complaints the entire time, rolling off the bed and landing straight on his back. From then on, he spent the rest of the morning complaining about his back hurting, far into eating breakfast, past preparations for the ceremony, and through getting dressed for the upcoming feast.

“I think,” you said, grunting slightly as you adjusted the gold and lapis jeweled collar upon his shoulders, “you should be glad.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, continuing to observe the both of you in his mirror.

“Back before history began, the Opet festival stretched -“

“For twenty-seven days, I know. I read too,” he interrupted with a playful glare. “How does that make me lucky?”

“I don’t think you have the energy for something like that,” you said with a smile. He turned to you, his brow furrowed but a smirk still prominent on his face.

“On the contrary. I think you aren’t suited for something like that.”

“I sat on a mountaintop for a whole year without food or water. I think I’m perfectly suited.”

“That’s just sitting. Can you hold the stamina for dancing?”

“I suppose we’ll find out by tonight,” you chuckled, correcting the crown on his head, as it had once more tilted to the right.

The two of you entered the brightly lit hall, torches lining the sides in bright orange and blue. Marveling, you took your seat, a few seats away from Ahkmen but still at the same table. Adom would not be there, you realized, as Kahmuh, head of the table, stood with glass in hand.

“To the many prosperous years ahead of us, and thanks to the Gods,” he said, and from his glass he drank red wine. In unison, the room at large raised their own cups, and drank. Servants that stood nearby bowed their heads in respect, their trays level from years of experience, eyes cast down out of a learned fear. You took a sip from your own cup, the warm liquid burning down your throat in a pleasant sensation. A quick smile to your friend, one that was easily returned, and the feast began.

Stretching out before you must’ve been enough to elegantly feed the entire city for at least a week - plates of fish, salted and spiced, fruit stacked head high in ornate designs, plates of various vegetables fried with legs of beef, and massive pitchers of wine and beer separating the neat piles of food from each other. Relatively, you sat near the head, the long wooden table stretching for forever down the immense room, the ceiling towering high above you, so far that the light did not reach the ceiling before it spanned into darkness.

To the sides of the room, and at the entrance musicians played, their instruments in perfect sync with the singing voices, harmonizing with the peaceful chatter of the many people there. Women danced in skirts and dresses, gold sewn into the sheer fabric that shimmered in the dying light of the sunset, hips moving with the music.

You filled your own plate gratuitously, but thankfully not enough to turn any heads. That fell mostly to one man, sitting across from you and slightly to the right. With as much gusto as he ate, he ended up missing half the food he’d gotten, as it flew from his mouth and landed on the dissatisfied and rather disgusted people sitting beside him. As Ahkmen glanced your way, you gestured with your head towards the man, and the two of you giggled under your breath.

Once the sun had finally set, it felt as though the energy had gone through the roof. People stood on the benches and seats, drinking and singing boastfully, their arms wrapped around each other. Kahmuh looked on in his usual, quiet demeanor, his brother whispering to him every now and again. You stayed seated where you were, amused by the antics of drunk nobles.

It must’ve been only you, noticing the clanging outside. Every so often you’d turn to the door, expecting someone to come bursting through, but for the first five times nothing happened. Anxiously you rubbed your hand together, wondering what could be causing such a racket to be heard over the laughter of over a dozen people. Swallowing thick, you tried not to linger on it. Tonight was about celebration, not worry.

He flashed you a smile, bright and excited, one that might’ve calmed you if it had not fallen so quickly to a frown. Drifting, his gaze landed to the right of your head, and you turned, finding a bloodied soldier, spear in hand, panting on his knees. Ahkmen let out a sort of yell, one that caught the attention of Kahmuh, who quickly stopped his conversation with a woman beside him as the soldier caught his eye.

“There’s - “ he couldn’t stop panting, “there’s, a… there’s an army, you need,” he took another deep breath, “you need to evacuate!”

For a split second the hall was mute, with not the sound of fire of torches crackling out of a sudden and deserved fear. Then, a sound like the screams of hell, as each and every dining person stood with shaking hands, their voices seeming to come unwillingly from themselves. The soldier fell to the ground, landing face first. From your seat you leapt, surging through the crowd and falling by his side.

Placing your hand on his chest, you felt no movement. You pressed your hand against his neck quickly, finding no pulse. With a groan you stood, knowing this was no time to worry for a body. A hand wrapped around yours, pulling you away, and the light of the dining hall disappeared as the crowd of nobles was lead far away from the palace.

Turning to run, Ahkmen stood beside you, holding your hand. You intertwined your fingers together, holding him as tight as he held you. Behind you and in front, guards protected you from every angle, ready for any sudden attack.

“Who the hell could be attacking on Opet?!” Ahkmen exclaimed, not even turning to face you. Through the noise of running footsteps and nervous shouts, you barely heard him - just enough to make it out.

“Now isn’t the time for questions,” you said, your voice an anxious murmur. At first, you were afraid he couldn’t hear you, but he nodded, running faster and pulling you along.

The crowd led you through twisting halls, through the quickest route to the back door. You’d taken it several times before - when your friend had started a landslide, or when the same friend had taken you on that midnight picnic.

“Pray they aren’t waiting for us,” a rather fat man beside you said, mostly to himself, but overhead by others. It did very little to calm the fear pounding into the group.

To the instant relief of the people, no one was there. But it was a small door - two at a time ran through it, rushing down the small steps and running for the Aur that was only a short walk away from the stairs.

“Not that way!” A guard yelled, making it down the steps and directing you into the desert. There was no way this man would be trusted without at least one of the princes allowing it, but somehow enough terror had occurred that evening that most people had lost most of their logical thinking, immediately heading where the guard led. You found yourself among that population, your hand still tight around Ahkmen’s, Kahmuh trailing angrily after everyone else. In the distance, you could hear yelling, blood curdling screams that seeped right into the bone, implanting itself into your mind to repeat over and over again. A particularly loud scream, followed by the sound of choking and gurgling sent a terrible image of some poor person getting stabbed ruthlessly in the street. You closed your eyes, shaking your head to clear the image.

It’ll be okay, you told yourself, with no Adom to confirm it, and no source of comfort but the pressure around your palm, pressing its’ medicine into your heart.

The hours following the evacuation were, if there were any true word to describe them, chaotic. Most of the nobles had never known danger, or the feeling of fear, so it ran potent through all. Even you, who had gone through quite a lot in your short lifetime, could feel it pouring off of them in great spouts. The twenty-or-so of you sat around a large rock, sheltering you from sight of the city, with Kahmuh sitting atop it and thinking of what to do next. You did not envy his position.

After much thinking, and as the sun began to peak over the horizon (many of the people had already gone to sleep; the others stayed up, too wary to drift off), he stood, his shadow towering over the huddled mass.

“We must travel to Thebes. Half our military force is there, and combined with Thebes military force, it’ll be easy to overtake those who have invaded us,” he decided, with much conviction in his voice. Beside you, finding no ease in sleep, Ahkmen furrowed his brow and stood with his glare.

“It’ll take fifteen days, and that’s with physically fit people. None of us have walked more than that in all our lives, we couldn’t possible do it in time! Even if we could, we have no clue as to what their numbers are. Further, we don’t know who they are, either. The only person who saw them died as he told us,” Ahkmen contradicted, and the people seemed split on who to agree with. On one hand, Thebes sounded nice, and Kahmuh was technically in charge. On the other, Ahkmen had a severe point - Thebes was far away, and even with their militia, there was no guarantee.

“How exactly do you know how long the walk takes?” He bit back with much venom in his eyes.

“The carrier from Thebes to Memphis, she travels by land, not sea, and on foot it takes her around ten or so days, and that’s with resting. She’s more than physically fit, above average I’d say, and taking into account all the gathered information, I believe it’d take around fifteen days.”

“And are you a mathematician, dear brother?”

He coughed, clearing his throat, and shifted his weight to his other foot rather awkwardly.

“No,” he admitted. “But it takes a fool to not see what’s blatantly in front of him.”

An audible gasp emitted from the crowd, and you kept your head down, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Do you propose a better plan?”

“Send our strongest man with a message. It’ll take him, or her, less time than a whole group. This person could cut sleep without complaint from others, and deliver the message much faster, and bring the army back in time.”

“Our best bet is to stick together. What if it takes just enough time that all of these people die at the hands of those barbarians?! Besides, I’m acting Pharaoh.”

“Not really,” you cut in, playing with your fingers. “Your father took a chance that this would be something easy to do. Otherwise, it all would’ve fallen to your younger brother.”

“Oh, shut up, you miscreation,” Kahmuh drawled, rolling his eyes. Crossing your arms, you sat back against the rock he stood on, and shut your mouth. You might’ve missed the absolutely filthy glare Ahkmen shot his brother if you hadn’t looked to him for some source of comfort.

“They aren’t wrong. There’s an issue of power here, and I think the way to solve it is to give our people a voice.”

A beat of silence passed, filled with a tension you prayed would dissipate no matter the decision, but you sort of knew that it would continue to irritate you.

“Alright,” Kahmuh turned to the huddled crowd, “we’ll have a vote on the matter.”

“All in favor of sending a messenger to Thebes say aye,” Ahkmen said, and somehow he had changed his tone in a second - he commanded respect. Before you could wonder in awe how a person could switch so quickly, you chimed in with your own ‘aye.’

“All in favor of traveling to Thebes ourselves and sticking together,” said Kahmuh, who clearly enunciated the last two words while staring straight at his brother. From there, you noticed half the people agreed with Kahmuh, and the other with Ahkmen. Clearly the brothers voted for themselves, so with that, there was an impasse.

“Ahk,” you whispered, and he knelt before you, clearly open to whatever you had to say. “Combine the ideas.” He lit up, a bright smile taking the place of his serious grimace. With a pat to your shoulder he stood, ready to propose his, or your, idea.

“I have a solution to our issue,” Ahkmen said, all eyes turning to him. “We send our fastest person out to Thebes to arrive first, but we go ourselves. By the time we reach there, the news will have already come, and if our take back of the city is successful, we can travel back by barge.”

Slowly nodding, sly eyes turned to you, and a suddenly sick smirk fell upon Kahmuh’s face.

“I agree,” he said slowly. “Piye is clearly the most healthy. That’s who should go.”

Ahkmen paled, his posture dropping before quickly recomposing himself. He looked nearly as terrified as he had just a few hours ago, running from the feast. You could feel your own mouth go dry, but it was only logical - even if Kahmuh didn’t have it out for Ahkmen, and therefore you, you would most likely qualify as most fit. Certainly as one who could run the longest distances, and had the most experience with it, and you might’ve even volunteered yourself if you didn’t know Ahkmen would’ve choked you himself.

Holding that close in your mind, you stood, and with a solemn nod agreed with the prince.

“I will go,” you agreed, watching the lurid smile grow on Kahmuh’s face, “but I require one of your guards’ sword. Can’t send me out with no weapons, right?” You cocked your eyebrow, and slowly, and so clearly reluctantly, he agreed. With a motion of his hand the guard nearest you regretfully handed you his sword.

“Take care of it. If I lose it, it comes out of my pay.”

“I will reimburse any loss or damage,” you chuckled. As was the case with most of the swords you’d seen, the origin was clearly from somewhere around Persia, cast in bronze and given the loving name ‘khopesh.’ For a moment you inspected it, before sheathing it in the belt the guard gave you.

Once you stepped foot out of the makeshift encampment, Ahkmen grabbed your arm, stopping you. Behind him, his brother addressed the crowd at hand, but did not capture the attention of either of you. Instead, the intensity of Ahkmen’s heed was focused entirely on you.

“Do not take chances. Be safe, my dear,” he told you, his voice deep and grave. Something you rarely ever heard from him, but one that was becoming scarily regular.

“I should be telling that to you,” you chided with a small smile, but the sentiment was not returned. With a harsh tug, he pulled you into a hug tighter than any you’d felt, pressing his worry and good wishes deep into the settlement of your heart. It was not for a long time that he let go of you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and breathing deeply, only then releasing you.

“You’re going to see me again,” you tried to laugh, the sound weak as your heart.

He did not reply.

You knew, that if hell did not await you out in the vastness of the desert, it would certainly await the brothers in Thebes. Any of their explanations, especially Kahmuh’s, would not be listened to. Their father wasn’t one to listen to excuses, and he said so on many occasions, though these excuses were all perfectly logical. Half the military force of Memphis was in Thebes, and almost everyone was drunk, only the threat of torture and death sobering them. Still - the fall of the capitol city. Not something to be taken lightly. As much as you knew you shouldn’t have thought it, you were grateful the blame would fall on Kahmuh.

In no way were you properly dressed for this journey, sinking into the weak sand with sandals that kept slipping off your feet. At one point you fell to the ground, ready to chuck them off, before feeling sharp rocks stab at the palm of your hands, and thinking differently. As for the nights, they were cold. You kept along the nile, but all the areas that would’ve healed your aching heels were flooded from the inundation. To your luck, however, date trees were still in reach.

By the third day your pace noticeably slowed. Dragging yourself along the path that no one would’ve wished to willingly take, you kept your head up, using your shawl to cover yourself from the heat of the burning sun. The lack of sleep didn’t take long to get to you, either. Eve would draw closer and so would your eyelids together, desperately wishing for a bed to rest in. Instead, you made do pulling the leaves off trees, if only to keep yourself off the ground.

Besides the usual aches and pains, the trip was… rather normal. The only time you unsheathed your sword was to cut open hard fruits, or cut branches. Come the eighth night, it began to rub your mind raw, wondering if perhaps you just weren’t being observant enough. You got little sleep that night, but made it through the next day with the comfort that you would be sleeping in a real bed by in two nights’ time.

To your surprise, you must’ve sped up, ending up in the city by that evening. All were peacefully unaware of the turmoil of their capital, something you tried not to pay attention to. Instead, you focused on the largest building, smack in the center, standing tall as a reminder of the power of the rich.

Act normal, you told yourself, and with this reminder, most of the guards payed you no mind. It wasn’t until you reached the steps of this supposed city hall that you were stopped by a rather muscular woman, who was nearly as tall as you.

“You can’t enter without a pass,” she told you, her voice stern and rather deep.

“I have grave news from Memphis, I need to see the Pharaoh,” you said, trying to convey the urgency in your voice. “My father works for him, tell him Adom’s child comes to seek a hearing.”

“Sure. I’ll do that,” she said sarcastically, clearly irritated, before tacking on the end, “like I can just go up to Amun on earth.”

Think, think, think, you commanded yourself, turning away from the woman. An idea sparked - terribly wicked, and questionably ethical, but it would have to do. You turned back to her.

“Could I have your name, please?” You requested. She looked skeptical, but gave it anyway.

“Selma, daughter of Ahaouty.”

“Now, please step aside,” you said quietly, and though she appeared horrified, she stepped aside. With a wave of your hand, your hold on her could have been broken, but you couldn’t let that happen - not until you spoke with the King. Racing up the steps, you only stopped to give a cursory glance back to Selma, who was trying to get her mouth to open. Giggling, you tried reminding yourself that you shouldn’t have done magic in the first place, and that it was very rude to giggle.

The run to the courtroom gave you enough time to sober up, climbing up various staircases and through halls full of guards, some of whom you even recognized. Not giving them enough time to even question who you were, you burst through the doors of the courtroom, finding the mayor and the King engrossed in a game of Senet. The two looked up at you, the mayor clearly horrified, and the King mostly looking pissed off.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, loud and demanding as he stood. Clearing your throat, and attempting to make yourself look smaller, you tried answering.

“Memphis was sacked in your absence. Your sons escaped with a handful of people, they should be here within a few days. They sent me ahead to warn you.”

Barely giving you the time to finish, he raced out the door, leaving you with the mayor.

“What’s your name?” He asked, stepping in front of you with his arms crossed.

“Piye,” you answered hesitantly, unsure of what he wanted.

“… Really? That’s my name,” he said, nodding his head as though your answer was satisfactory.

“It’s… a good.. name.”

“… Yeah.”

He sent you away, directing one of his servants to show you to a guest room. It was certainly a nice room, you noticed as the servant left you with a bow. Nice, arching windows with a smooth floor and well decorated walls. You might’ve appreciated it more, had the uncertainty of Ahkmen and Adom’s fate not been squeezing your thoughts dry.

Not three minutes later, and a servant, a different one this time, came knocking on your door. Keeping her head high, she informed you that your presence was requested at a meeting. You kept your surprise to yourself as she led you there, wondering when the Pharaoh’s opinion on you changed from ‘get that thing away from me,’ to ‘best invite them to an important meeting.’

This room was much smaller than the courtroom you’d initially seen him in. No windows, lit only by dim rushlight****. A long table took up a good chunk of the space in the room, chairs surrounding it, filled by superiors, and at the head - Merenkahre himself.

“Sit,” he commanded, and you obliged, sitting across from the mayor. “Tell us all you know.”

“I’m, uh, afraid, my King, I know very little. I was ordered by Kahmuh not to return to the city. He thought it may endanger the remaining citizens.”

You watched as a subtle expression of either anger or horror grow on his face, and in your own fear you continued.

“Around twenty of us escaped, including your sons and myself, and a few guards.”

He nodded, intense eyes set low as he thought over his situation.

“We need time,” one of his advisors spoke, and he turned to her, listening intently. “Our best shot is to find out who the enemy is - it’ll help us decide how to proceed. If it’s just ruffians, we’d rush the city, for example. Different armies have different strategies.”

“You’re right, but it’ll take too long. A siege is our best bet. I’ll take the soldiers I took from Memphis, and half of Thebes, travel by nile.”

“With all due respect, I think we need our army, especially after what has now occurred. What if their next target is Thebes?” A man beside you said.

Once again, the Pharaoh grew quiet, contemplating for any easy answer. For a moment all that passed was silence, till he stood, grabbing your elbow and pulling you outside to speak in private. Your first reaction was that you’d done something wrong, that he blamed you for the absence of his children, but instead he only looked worried.

“I know Adom’s secret,” he whispered to you, and the realization crashed into you. He knew of his magic?

“The…” you didn’t want to say it aloud, so you made an odd gesture with his hands. There was no possible way he could’ve understood what it meant, but he nodded anyway.

“I am praying you have that gift as well. Without Thebes’ army, I can’t even begin to think about taking back Memphis. But,” he poked you in the chest, “if I can promise them a savior… they may believe me. And we may win back our home.”

It was a clever choice of words, but you supposed he needed to have that talent. We win back our home, raising you up from being called an ‘it’ to being a supposed savior. However, the twist of words didn’t mean anything when things were in such a dire state. So you agreed - and in an instant, he relaxed, smiling at you for the first time. Quickly assigning you a task, he reentered the meeting, dismissing you to your assigned room.

Several hours later you received the message that you were to look after the brothers once they reached the city, and that Merenkahre had left his wife and a few advisors, including you, behind to travel to Memphis. It was a lot of information to absorb, that you were now more or less at the mercy of Piye (the mayor - not you) and whatever he may wish of you, and Shepseheret, though the only interactions you’d had with her were quite nice.

As expected, by the next morn news of his departure had reached the city in general, and as the next few days passed, you kept busy staying by Shepseheret’s side. She had no need for you, and told you this many times, but you didn’t have a place - something you weren’t used to. For the most part, however, she let you tag along to her dinners and spa treatments. It wasn’t till your sixth, or was it seventh? day there that the survivors entered the city, the bright gold tresses and sullen makeup catching the eye of many guards, most of whom ran into the palace, alerting everyone in sight that there were lost nobles entering.

Hearing these shouts you raced from listening to Shepseheret’s personal servant going on about salaries, wind blasting past your ears as you skipped down the steps four at a time, racing to the front gate of the city. Spotting you through the crowd, Ahkmen forced himself through the growing crowd, practically smacking into you with the tightest, most forceful hug you’d ever embraced so happily. Your chest ached with the impact, or maybe it was only with your longing - either way, it wasn’t till a long time had passed that you let each other ago.

“I missed you,” you finally murmured, your throat tight as you clutched the cloth on his back.

“As did I. I was worried… well, you know. That you wouldn’t make it,” he spoke just as softly, releasing you slightly, still holding you against him. He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath.

“You know to think higher of me,” you chuckled.

“You’re pretty weak, I dunno,” he shrugged, forcing giggles out of the both of you. Trailing with slow steps, you followed the crowd of nobles, a crowd you noticed had not decreased in size in the least. In easy conversation you caught him up with your trip to the city, what had occurred once the news reached the Pharaoh’s ear, and what you’d done in the lonely six days more it had taken them. He ended up getting the room next to yours - something both of you were excited about, but never to each other. Instead, you mostly bullied each other, till night caused the two of you to part, sleeping beside each other, with only a foot thick wall in the way. Not fantastic, but better than a desert.

“Will I see you in the morning,” he asked, standing far too close to you as you stood outside your room that evening, “or will you be magically gone?”

“I’ll be returning the guards’ sword in the morning, but you will see me. I’m afraid I can’t magically disappear,” you replied cheekily, feeling as though the sudden closeness was naught but natural. Usually the two of you kept a respectful distance, which was expected of good friends - but you didn’t mind the touch. Somehow, it wasn’t odd in any way. He scoffed, shaking his head, but still smiling. With a pat to your shoulder, he said good night, and you parted for the evening.

When the sun rose you did as you told you would do; returned the sword of a very pleased guard, who bowed in thanks. Afterwards, glancing down mostly empty halls, you tried to find your suddenly absent friend. He wasn’t in his quarters, nor was he in the dining area, or even in the kitchen. You couldn’t find him on any balconies either (which was something you had learned earlier that he loved - something about wind), or outside in the gardens. No, instead, you found him embroiled in an argument between his mother and his brother, all three of them somehow disagreeing with each other person. It felt like an awful thing to interrupt, who knew what Kahmuh would do to you, so you turned, and you left.

That’s none of my business, you thought to yourself, grimacing.

Instead, you stayed in the gardens, watching birds flit by in the bright sunlight. Through the irrigated river fish would swim by your feet, the bench you sat on right at the waters edge. Turning your attention to the clouds, drifting by with the gentle breeze, you tried to ignore the footsteps getting closer to you. Maybe they weren’t headed for you -

“Piye, there you are,” said an awfully familiar voice; one that you did not like hearing too often. Maybe he was talking to the mayor you hadn’t noticed standing right beside you, but, then again, he wasn’t standing next to you. So at last you turned your tired expression towards Kahmuh who looked positively fuming. At least you could enjoy the image of his childish anger.

He sat beside you, his leg jiggling in his anxious state.

“You know my brother rather well, right?” He asked, and you nodded with a hum. “Could you hazard a guess as to why I get blamed for everything?”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t know that. That has to do with your parents and I don’t think they like me,” you said, nodding to yourself but not meeting his eye.

“Not hard to figure out why,” he muttered to himself before continuing with the pertinent conversation. “There must be something that makes him more likable than me!”

“For one he’s nicer, and he treats others as his equal.”

“See, I’ve never understood that,” he said, his lisp beginning to come out in his unchecked anger. “We aren’t equals to others, we’re the blood of Gods and Goddesses, what we say is rule. I shouldn’t have to treat others as I treat myself.”

“You could at least treat your parents with the same respect you show yourself. They are, technically, not even your equals. They’re higher than you.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands, letting them drag over his skin and pull at it.

“I could tell you the truth if you’d like, but I worry for my life,” you chuckled, a teasing tone, but he took you far too seriously. From there he requested you tell the truth, the whole truth, and disregard his royalty.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you told him nervously.

“Just do it, okay?!”

“Alright, alright,” you hissed, taking a deep breath. Where to start?

“You’re insecure,” you decided to begin with. “You aren’t sure of yourself and somehow you’ve blamed that diffidence on those around you, even though the only root is the lack of love you get from your parents, which is really your doing. Maybe you’re simply insecure because your brother is more handsome than you, or something, but clearly you’ve hated him since he was born, which has led to even more fragility in yourself and your masculinity. You’re unsure of yourself and of the world, so you try to take control of it but it doesn’t work because you aren’t respected by your people or your parents. That’s because you’re insolent.”

After that sentence you couldn’t continue, not with the hand tightening around your neck, and the obsidian knife pressed into your stomach, almost breaking the skin there. You kept yourself calm - there was nothing he could do to hurt you. Then again, just because you wouldn’t die, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

“I’d advise you don’t murder someone, especially not in the gardens. Can’t clean up blood from dirt, and it clashes terribly with the sand,” drawled Piye, the mayor, who had shortly occupied your thoughts not moments earlier. With as much ferocity as he’d pulled it on you, he sheathed his dagger, releasing you with a slight push and stomping away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him, brushing yourself off and rubbing the area he’d poked you.

“It’s alright,” he said with a knowing smile. “Us ‘Piye’s’ have to look out for each other.”

He left after a short conversation with you, mostly discussing what you’d done to anger the prince in the first place. You didn’t linger in the garden long, the energy suddenly putting you off. Perhaps the kitchens would fare better times - yes, you thought to yourself - the kitchens would do nicely. If Kahmuh attempted to approach you again, you could simply put bread in your mouth, and excuse yourself by gesturing that you couldn’t speak.

Upon entering the doors of the kitchen, you suddenly remembered what had brought you to the gardens in the first place, leading to your encounter, and your subsequent trip to the kitchens. Finding Ahkmen, who was currently crouched in the corner, probably crying, and holding a jug full of wine in his drooping left hand. With cautious steps you came over, grabbing the drink from him and setting it on the floor before he could drop and spill it. Servants and cooks looked warily over at the pair of you, and in return you smiled, which put them off a little bit.

“Hey,” you said softly, setting your hand on his shoulder and trying to get him to face you. He wouldn’t, instead burying his head deeper into his arms crossed over his knees, brought up to his chest.

“He’s really, really… such an asshole,” he mumbled, muffled by his arms. You leaned in closer.

“I’m sorry?”

“Kah-m! You don’t… like him, do you? God, he’s so.. conniving-mmnnm.. I wouldn’t put it ‘bast’ him t’ turn you against me,” he slurred, his limbs suddenly flopping open and onto the floor.

“You’re drunk,” you noted blandly, furrowing your brow slightly. He giggled, still not looking up at you.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You look awful.”

“Don’t I always?” He questioned, finally looking up with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Let’s get you out of here,” you said with a grunt, raising him to his feet and nodding towards the kitchen staff for their patience. This time, they answered with tiny smiles.

“Avoiding the quesssstion, I see,” he grumbled, leaning into you far too much. With him practically nuzzling into you, you headed down the path you knew took you to your room. Not that you were actually taking him there - his room was right across from yours, and he needed to take a nap. Day drinking was a terrible habit to get into.

Kicking open the door, you set him on the bed, and making sure he couldn’t see past your back, you flicked a few ingredients into existence. Main problem was rehydration, you thought, filling the tall glass with water, adding into it chamomile and ginger. Not the best tasting, but it was a cure you’d learned from Adom after seeing him use it on the Pharaoh periodically after feasts. Swirling it around, you waited till the ingredients fully seeped into the warm water, turning to Ahkmen as you did so.

He hung upside down off the bed, wig on the floor and his necklace dangling in front of his face. Sighing, you helped him up as he protested.

“Drink this,” you told him, helping him sit straight and not sway. Rolling his eyes, he took the drink from you, gagging when he swallowed it down in one gulp.

“Disgusting.”

“You’re not supposed to drink it that fast,” you chuckled, sitting beside him and stilling his sway as he leaned into you once more. You looked him up and down, just a quick glance to check if he was alright, you told yourself. In a soft voice, you asked, “what were you and your mother and brother arguing about?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, that. Mother tried to, um, tell him that, uh, tell him something about my father being, um.. really upset, about something… something about royal, um… duty. ’N Kahm’ said it was all my fault, but mam was buying NONE of that shit. Thank the Gods, right? Anyway, uh… Kahm’ got pretty mad, guess I don’ blame him.”

Through that prolonged sentence you picked out what the argument was about - punishment for Kahmuh for the loss of Memphis. Not something to be taken lightly, but in all technicalities it really wasn’t his fault. Not the way you looked at it, at least, though the boy did need to be put in his place.

“I see,” you said, even if you didn’t really see what had upset him so greatly.

“Yeah, whole situation was… just ridiculous,” he grumbled, falling back onto the bed. You watched, unwilling to join, till he tugged harsh on your arm, making you fall next to him. Shifting uncomfortably, you stayed where you were.

“Why’d you get drunk?” You asked, glancing at him sparingly.

“Oh, yeah. He said.. somethin’ about you. Wasn’t very nice,” he said, growing quieter as he fidgeted with the material of his skirt.

“… what was it?”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking..?”

“No, wait,” he sat up suddenly, patting your bare stomach as he did so, “I meant I purposefully didn’t tell you. It’s a bad idea.” He leaned in as he said his last words, the stench of alcohol coming quite ripe off of him, making you shrivel up your nose.

“Why’s that?”

“Secrets, my dear,” he murmured, lying back on the bed with a great sigh. As his breathing slowed you stood, maneuvering him so his head rested on the pillow. An hour from now he’d be sober, you told yourself, which would be in time for dinner. No one needed to see a drunk prince.

“Is it bothering you?” He asked, keeping his voice quiet in the dead of night. Maybe letting him sleep in your room for the night was a mistake - he’d asked, so naturally your first instinct was to comply. Now he lay on the floor at your bedside, a few blankets and a pillow on the ground for his comfort. Moonlight kept the room alight just enough for you to see the outlines of your bed, and the ceiling, and if you bothered to look down, you would probably be able to see him.

“Is what bothering me?” You asked in return, keeping a dull tone as you stared at the ceiling.

“You know,” he came up, resting his head on the edge of the bed and looking at you with doe eyes. You looked over at him. “Your father.”

Oh. You weren’t expecting him to really think about you, at least not in the terms of where he’d be worried about your well-being, especially concerning the people you were close with. In fact, the question had taken you by surprise enough that you didn’t answer.

“Piye?”

“Uh, yeah. Guess so. I’ll get over it,” you mumbled, fidgeting with your hands. In the darkness, you could barely see them above the sheets.

“He’s a strong guy. I’m sure he’s vanquishing my fathers enemies as we speak,” he joked, his tone lilting playfully as his head tilted to the side. Tips of his short hair tickled at your shoulder.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he said, shifting into a more comfortable position, his shoulders now visible above the edge of the bed.

“Why’d you ask to sleep in my room?”

In dim light you saw him tense up, the color in his face getting darker but indistinguishable in the cloak of night. Knitting his fingers together, he tried to answer, once, then twice, opening his mouth with nothing coming out. The third time he tried, he found an answer.

“Just wanted some company,” he replied softly, his hand untangling and reaching up to you. With a touch you could barely feel, he tucked a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

It wasn’t often you saw him without his wig, but he always saw your natural hair. White as death, Kahmuh had once called it, but Adom never wore a wig, and implored you to accept yourself as you were. And, well, you trusted Adom far more than you trusted Kahmuh. For the most part, Ahkmen didn’t comment on it, but you knew he noticed. Now more so than most times.

“Good enough reason,” you mumbled. “You comfortable on the floor?”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied as you turned to face him. His hand remained close to your face, just shy of touching.

“Sure about that?”

“There’s not much of an alternative,” he snorted.

You remained quiet. In that silence, mild insinuations occurred, mostly consisting of eye twitches and nods of heads. Slowly he rose from his position on the floor, slipping in beside you underneath covers. You shuffled to make room for him. It was a little odd, being so close to him, especially since this was your first time. One could complicate the situation with all the intense emotions felt beforehand and after, and during, and all the dread that had occurred leading up to the moment, but in all honesty, it was just two children. Two very frightened children, who had no idea where their fathers were. With closed eyes you faced each other, drifting into sleep as his hand reached for yours, falling short by mere centimeters.

For a month now you’d heard nothing, not that you’d expected to. It took an army to walk from Thebes to Memphis quite a while, and though a barge was much faster, there weren’t enough to supply such a massive amount of people. Fifteen days passed and you safely assumed they’d arrived in the city, and thus you began to wonder how long the fighting would last before message would be sent, or if any message would be sent at all. Ahkmen seemed rather confident in both the army and his father, while Kahmuh thought their father was incompetent. Shepseheret expressed no opinion; at least, not to you. As the days seemed to grow longer you found yourself less interested in the affairs of others and more preoccupied in your own anxiety. Much of your time was spent alone, which was to Ahkmen’s quiet chagrin.

His behavior had turned a different direction from yours. Maybe it was the difference in the way the both of you were raised, or maybe it was because the two of you were simply very different people. Either way, he began to socialize more, talking to any servant that passed by and attempting half desperately to get you to talk to him. You supposed it would probably be healthy for you to indulge once in a while, to avoid the isolation, but you couldn’t find the energy within yourself to do so.

“You’ve changed,” said Ahkmen one day, catching you napping midday in your room. You had been asleep for most of the day, actually, until he’d so rudely awakened you by pulling the blankets off of you and opening the curtains to expose bright sunlight. You groaned as he did this.

“No shit,” you grumbled, burying your face in the soft pillows.

“Come on, it’s not healthy to.. do whatever it is you’re doing. I want to go for a walk,” he said, jumping onto your bed and straddling you as you still lay on your stomach.

“I’m not stopping you.”

“I want to go with you,” he practically whined, tugging at your hair. Mumbling incoherently, you pushed him off of you, sitting up with tired eyes. Sighing, he stood once more.

“Well I don’t want to walk. I want to go back to sleep. I did my fair share of walking,” you mumbled, falling back onto the pillows after pointing a vindictive finger at him.

His attempts at getting you to move didn’t stop there - if you didn’t know better, you would think he was trying to annoy you to death. But no, that’s just who he was. Indescribably annoying while at the same time far too caring. Sometimes, often when he was dragging you places, you wished you’d never met him.

Days grew long and uneventful as he came to the conclusion that you weren’t open for talking about anything, or doing anything. Every now and then he would sit in your room and study while you either carved or slept; the two activities that took up the majority of your time.

“I think Memphis is much more entertaining than here,” he said one day, looking up from his scriptures.

“Better gardens,” you added in a mumble, half asleep.

“Good view of the Aur, too. Closer to the sea.”

“Mmm.”

Somewhere around the two month marker a messenger came, dirty but unharmed, note in hand. Piye 2, as Ahkmen affectionally titled him (the mayor hated it), read the note aloud to the courtroom at large, which consisted of several servants, a few nobles, the princes, their mother, and you.

“I am writing to inform you that I and the militia I have been supplied with have arrived safely to Memphis. Outside the city, opposite the nile is a mass grave. I write this upsetting news in hopes that I will, at some point, be able to identify those who have died in this attack. We have not yet found any lone groups that may have escaped - I suspect they may have fled to another city, or that they have been either imprisoned or killed.

“From the vantage point upon a nearby hill I have found what I believe to be Nubians inhabiting the city. As much as I loathe to say this, we may have provoked this attack, though with the violence given I plan to return with just as much vigor and might.

“I hope all is well in your city. Share this letter as you see fit; tell my wife that I miss her and that I am sure of the safe return of our home. Relay the same message to my sons.”

A mass grave wasn’t exactly a comforting image, thought, or idea, and as much as you began to despise those who had dug that grave, you reminded yourself that the kings of the past had done the same to them. Nearly too deep into your own thoughts, you only came back to reality as Kahmuh rushed past you and out of the room. Most everyone stared at him as he did so, wondering what in the letter, or in his thoughts, could have provoked such a temper in him.

“Well,” Piye cleared his throat, “dinner is in a few hours.” With that, those remaining left. You left to your room, as usual, this time with Ahkmen trailing behind you.

“There’s still hope, you know,” he spoke soft but firm, holding your upper arm to keep you from locking yourself in your room. He stopped you right in front of your door, looking up at you with an expression far too confident for your liking.

“I know he’s alive. You don’t need to assure me,” you bit back, pulling yourself harshly out of his grip and slamming the door behind you as you entered. His words only made that sick feeling in your gut worse, tugging your heart to be just as sickly as your thoughts. He followed you into the room before you thought to barricade the door. In the moment you hadn’t realized, but you fell to the ground, your hands gripping tight at your hair. Swallowing thickly, you watched him come closer till he knelt before you.

“I’m sorry, for my words,” he apologized slow and quiet. “I’m not used to such… disaster. Not an excuse, I know. But it is an explanation as to why I suck at this.” He chuckled, heartlessly, a laugh that you did not join in.

Sighing, he sat beside you, leaning into you and gently untangling your hands from your hair, till the only pressure you felt was his head on your shoulder. Though your entire mind felt like the color black, as though it would collapse upon itself, you let yourself breathe.

Several more weeks passed before the next message came, telling the nobles, as well as the royal family and you, that passage returning to the city would be safe. The exact details of what had happened were murky, as the Pharaoh said he would explain the full situation later, when everyone was safely in their home.

As arrangements were being made for a barge to sail the 22 survivors back to Memphis, you were allowed to sit in on meetings.

“It’s rather even, actually,” one of Piye’s advisors told him, holding a tablet in front of him. “Three boats, around three days supply of food. Little extra, just as a precautionary tidbit - it can be ready within the hour, sir.”

“And a crew to man each boat?”

“Um - well, that… it’d be easier if the guests rowed themselves. It’d cut down the number of boats, the time it takes, as well as the food supply necessary.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Piye cleared his throat curtly, laying his folded hands on the table. “Make arrangements for a crew as well.”

With a curt nod, the advisor stepped to the side, conversing with several people before returning. For the rest of the meeting, you only retained the pertinent information - five boats, now, with four days supply of food for much more than 22 people. By next morn you sat behind Ahkmen and Kahmuh, the shade allowing for comfort as several people logged the boat into the nile, beginning to row the people and the food back home.

“Let’s hope for an uneventful and fast trip back to Memphis,” Kahmuh muttered, mostly to himself, though he was overheard by both you and his brother. Staying silent, Ahkmen simply nodded his agreement. You showed no acknowledgement that you’d heard him.

For the first day things went rather smoothly, clouds shadowing and allowing for those rowing to do so in a slightly more comfortable environment. By the second day several people were complaining about the speed, as well as the fact that they had to ‘save food’, to which Kahmuh tried to politely explain that they weren’t saving food. They were extending it so it would last them till the end of their journey, something most of them simply couldn’t understand. By the third day, you were desperate to get this venture over with. Sure, returning to the city, seeing Adom again would be fantastic, but dear God you wished you’d gone alone. Ten days of walking alone was better than another minute with the overly pompous and far too glorified rich people that now surrounded you.

Come the end of the third day the land around you became recognizable, as you docked off on a nearby stretch of dry, shadowed land. Growing tall and undisturbed, date palms swayed in gentle wind as blankets were strung about for both sleeping and protection from weather. On the first day, you remembered fondly yet annoyed that most people thought that Ahkmen and Kahmuh should sleep together. In fact, they thought this to be so true in their minds that the brothers were forced to sleep together for the night. No sleeping was actually done, by anyone, and from then on they slept separately. You tried to find humor in the whole situation, but what with the discomfort of the day, and the slow movement of the landscape passing you by, it was more infuriating than funny.

As you got closer to seeing your father again, your mood lightened drastically. And, as you sat in your own thoughts, you felt worse and worse for your treatment of what was once a very good friend. You and Ahkmen hadn’t spoken much, not since you’d lashed out and he tried to comfort you. Sure, his attempt wasn’t worthless, but it couldn’t be worth more than a few silver rings. He was right; he wasn’t very good at comfort. Either way, he had avoided speaking in length to you, and you’d done relatively the same, not actively avoiding but certainly nor pursuing.

I should apologize for my behavior, you thought to yourself as a few of the servants and guards set up tents and blankets on the ground. He sat underneath a date tree, leaning against the hard wood and admiring one of the flowers that had grown in the sand at his feet. Though a small smile tugged at his lips, he remained mostly stoic, unreadable chaos behind his eyes.

Gulping, you stepped forward, readying yourself for any outcome of the coming conversation. He could easily forgive you - he was that sort of person, kind and fair, and understanding. Yet he was also a prince, and spoiled, so there was also the chance that he would never partake in the enjoyment of your company again.

“Ahk, hey,” you began with, keeping your voice low as you sat beside him.

“Oh, hi,” he said, smiling as you did so.

“I, um,” you hesitated, trying to find the right words as your eyes stayed fixed on the flower petals Ahkmen was currently tracing with his fingers, “I want to apologize, for my behavior the past few days. I never meant to hurt you, and I don’t have an excuse, nor an explanation other than I was anxious and worried.”

He chuckled, turning to look at you with just as dopey a smile as he did many moons ago.

“Piye, you don’t need to apologize. I understand. I just thought you might want some space, so I gave you some,” he explained softly, patting your shoulder with his hand.

“Oh.”

“Nothing to worry about,” he murmured, cuddling up to you and holding your arm as though he was hugging it. You could do little but hum an acknowledgement, wondering how to fully express your appreciation for his forgiveness. Maybe you could —

He began to snore, softly, as you knew he only did in comfortable sleep.

“Must be tired,” you mumbled to yourself, looking down at his crown-less head. As comfortable or warm as he might’ve been, it wouldn’t do well for your spine tomorrow if you were to stay like that the rest of the night. So for a while you let him sleep, staring up at the heavens and wondering if you had any pull or say in your own life. After you’d fully gotten over that, gently you shook him awake, causing him to mumble incoherently and grip you tighter.

“You need to lie down,” you said, and he mumbled a bit more, but didn’t protest when you helped him to his feet. Directing him, his eyes half lidded through the camp, you set him down beneath a tented blanket.

“Sleep with me,” he slurred, grasping your hand in his. You contemplated it, but came to no conclusion before he pulled you down, collapsing you to your knees.

“Fine,” you half grumbled, settling yourself in. “Again, I’m sorry.”

“Mm. No need,” he murmured, quickly falling back asleep once more.

When the sun arose in the morn, the guilt that had been bothering you had vanished in a rather neat fashion. He woke first, helping with the various things he could help with. Granted, he wasn’t very strong, so he couldn’t help with major heavy lifting, but he did help with taking down the tents. You watched, too tired to move. Once the sun was fully visible in the sky, Ahkmen pulled you to your lazy feet, and you boarded the boat in hopes of a short trip home.

As short as the trip really was (you kept track of the time by looking for the sun behind the clouds that had amassed) it felt longer than ever, your excitement regarding your return elongating the time that passed seemingly slower than ever. You tried to pass the time by having small games with Ahkmen, but the both of you were rather distracted.

“I miss my vases,” he commented to you around noon, his voice quiet to avoid the attention his brother.

“Seriously? That’s what you miss?”

“Well they’re very beautifully done!”

“… Uhuh.”

The two of you chuckled, quiet but certainly there. In front of you Kahmuh rolled his eyes and let out a soft grunt, which only spiraled you into an even worse fit of laughter. Still, you tried to retain an ounce of dignity and self respect, though that was quickly going down the drain.

When at last the dredges of civilization, the very edge of what you knew to be a grand city came into view, the citizens hidden away within the small structures of the boats came out in their awe and excitement for quiet celebration. The energy on the boats was beginning to grow, and suddenly the nobles didn’t care for the food that had been dwindling away. Much better food awaited them in the city, and as it came into the sight, the ruins and burning houses of the poor did little to stifle their happiness. As long as their homes, way up in the center of the city were unharmed, you noticed that they couldn’t possibly care less about the lower citizens.

“Sad sight,” you commented to Ahkmen, who was furrowing his brows together as he stared at the charred homes.

“I can hardly believe it really happened, but, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed.”

Eventually, you docked more near the center of the city, the large palace towering in the distance. Excitement trilled through your fingers, making you antsy as you stepped off the barges after the princes.

“Well, besides all the blood, still looks like home,” Kahmuh noted on the blood splattered walls of downtown, taking higher streets before coming before the main attraction - the palace. Skipping the pleasantries, you squeezed Ahkmen’s hand, motioning forward. He nodded, and you left towards your room. Adom had to be waiting there; receiving people, guests or family, was not a formality he was ever included in. As you got closer you began to run, the excitement bubbling through your stomach and getting to your head. What new stories would he have to tell? He always had such an entrancing way of telling them, and an invasion would surely be one of his best yet.

Before you could actually make it to your room, you were stopped by a servant boy, who held parchment in his hand.

“Uh - excuse me, please stop,” he said as you tried to make your way past him, the door right in your sight.

“What, what is it?” You asked hurriedly, finally looking down at him, your breathing slightly heavy from the running.

“A message, from the Pharaoh,” the boy told, handing you the parchment.

What in the hell does he want now? You asked yourself, unravelling it as the boy left.

To whom it may concern;

I have the unfortunate task of notifying all surviving family members and friends that Adom has passed, giving his life to protect our great city. His burial will be presided over in the highest fashion, the smallest honor I may give him.

And there it ended. Not signed, the most impersonal message possible, without even a mention of your name. It couldn’t be right - maybe they’d found someone else’s body, or maybe this was the wrong name, or perhaps…

You could already feel your face draining of blood, a horrid, putrid sickness feeding off your doubt and crawling beneath your skin.

With slower footsteps you made your way to the throne room, where you knew the Pharaoh held court often. As you thought more and more about how wrong the Pharaoh had to be, the faster you began to walk, till you sprinted down the hallways, the dull pounding of your heart barely affecting you through the rush of the wind.

Entering, the Pharaoh sat upon his throne, looking regal as ever, his sons at his side and the nobles at his feet. He was obviously imparting to them some information, most likely about the invasion, and what they should do in the event of a loss of property. That didn’t matter to you right now, though, anger boiling through your veins till all you wanted in the whole wide world was to punch your Pharaoh.

He noticed you almost immediately, your energy clearly different and stifling compared to the emotion of the rest of the room.

“What is this?” You asked, holding the parchment that you hadn’t realized you crumpled in your hand out to him.

“Ah. That. I thought it’d be best to inform you of your fathers’ death before you found out by some other means.”

“You mean you weren’t even planning on telling me originally?! What was I supposed to do, assume he was wandering around the city?!”

“Um, Piye -“ Ahkmen tried to stop you, stepping forward, before he was held back by his brother, who tutted his disapproval.

“I will not be spoken to in this manner. I did as I saw fit. I am paying for him to have the proper funerary services. Do not direct your grief at me,” the Pharaoh spoke, suddenly sounding a lot more commanding than you’d ever heard before. This new tone did not deter you.

“You couldn’t have sent a letter, when you found his body? I know you must’ve seen it, it’s not like he’s hard to find since he’s a fucking mutant like me! Why couldn’t you have told me earlier?!”

“You shouldn’t speak to your king like that,” Kahmuh said, stepping in front of Ahkmen and looking at you in a rather condescending way.

“No rightful King would treat a human like this!’

You were starting to lose control of yourself, you could tell. The last time you felt this lost in your own emotion was before you went on your mission, and now it seemed as though it was all for naught. Not only were you losing grip of yourself, but your accusations were becoming outlandish, and you knew it, but somehow you continued, trapped within your own mind as you yelled profanities. Your heart hammered in your chest, anger swelling in your aura.

“Guards! Take this thing out into the desert. Do not let it return into the city,” Kahmuh hissed once he realized you were not going to back down.

“What? No, you can’t - surely there’s a better way to do this,” Ahkmen cried, trying to grasp your hand as you were tangled in the arms and spears of soldiers. With his elder brother in the way, he couldn’t reach. You tried to fight back, tried to assure your friend that you’d be alright, but you couldn’t manage it.

The Pharaoh did nothing. As much trust as he had put into you to guard Thebes and his sons, he watched as you were dragged away, banished from the only place you’d ever called home.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

Text

Welcome back, everyone!

A quick note before we begin: after the previous recap a couple of lovely friends and anons explained to me some discrepancies in my work, mainly about how Fox's semblance functions and how much info we’ve gotten on that previously. They're worth a read if (like me) you haven't read After the Fall and would like a more accurate picture of this whole project. However, I have to admit that sadly past!me didn’t think through the usefulness of those posts and tag them appropriately... so they’re just somewhere in the mess that is the “rwby” and “mymetas” tags. Still, I wanted to acknowledge their existence, both for your potential use and as another disclaimer along the lines of, “I’m reading what amounts to a sequel and recapping as I go. Prepare for a bumpy ride.”

We're on chapter five now (of twenty-two! Holy god I’m slow!!) and truth be told I actually enjoyed this opening. We're in Yatsuhashi's head this time around and he's likewise enjoying Vacuo's Meeting Spot, an "artificial oasis" that reminds him of his mother's healing gardens. I wonder what "healing" means in this particular context. A generalized benefit to your body, mind, and spirit in the form of meditation? Or a more literal, magic-based healing with its roots in aura use? In a world with RWBY's possibilities, a healing garden that someone like Ozpin might run—let's take time to settle ourselves and reflect—vs. one that someone like Jaune would create—let me use my semblance to literally heal your wounds—are rather different things. I'd be interested to know which category (or another) Yatsuhashi's mother falls under.

Regardless, it's a satisfyingly quiet scene. Yatsuhashi comments on both the beauty of the oasis as well as how that beauty, in turn, raises the desert in his eyes. Nothing like not having to deal with a hard landscape to make that landscape seem more bearable, alluring even, and this moment managed to capture that feeling rather well. The only downside is that, in a recurring theme, I once again got whiplash upon realizing that Yatsuhashi is not standing alone in the peace of the early morning, like the description had led me to believe. Apparently Velvet is there. As well as the whole freaking student body! Myers* has this strange habit of writing one kind of scene only to suddenly reveal that the scene is actually radically different from what his writing had encouraged you to imagine. Yatsuhashi is going on about healing, natural beauty, and the peace of an early morning. What's peaceful about dozens of students speculating beside him? Have you ever met a school of sleep deprived young adults dealing with a surprise announcement before breakfast? That’s as far from peaceful as humanly possible.

Mood, kid.

(*Also yes, we're working to write Myers' name correctly this chapter. If I'm going to drag his work so much the least I can do is not add an additional 'e' to his name lol.)

Along with the entirety of Shade Academy to break the peace, Yatsuhashi tells us about dromedons and mole crabs. The former, according to the wiki, is a "camel-like Grimm that can spit acidic venom" and also sports an armored hump. Fun! The latter, according to Yatsuhashi, is a "horrifying" creature that "slept just below the sand and could cut a person in two with their massive claws." And they're the normal, non-grimm animals! Screw Salem. Humanity needs huntsmen just to keep people safe from the everyday wildlife. Crabs cut people in two, Zwei is capable of being set on fire and launched at a mech... it's a miracle that anyone ever steps outside their home.

I do write this with full knowledge that Australia exists, but still.

As Yatsuhashi moves away from thoughts of killer crabs, we begin what is easily the strangest bit of repetition this chapter. Yatsuhashi's shoulder is sore from having tried to break down the hideout door and I'm going, "Wait no, you used your sword” and frantically flipping back through my PDF. To Myers' credit, there is a detail that suggests Yatsuhashi uh... rammed the door? I think? Last chapter he "Stepped forward and Fox heard him grunt with exertion." That's the only thing I can think of that would explain his shoulder unexpectedly being sore hours later: if he'd charged it instead of doing something insane like, oh, I don't know, trying the doorknob first. Odd choice of continuity, but okay. What's super weird though is that Myers repeats the detail again:

Yatsuhashi crossed his arms, then grimaced as a fresh pain shot through his shoulder. Come on, Aura, he thought. Do your thing.

I'm sorry, how badly did you hurt your shoulder? Why does a supposedly intelligent student immediately resort to what is apparently somewhat serious self-harm when faced with a closed door? Why is Myers choosing this of all things to tell us about? Is this incredibly random shoulder injury going to hinder Yatsuhashi during the test? Spoilers: I don't think it does considering that I searched for "shoulder" in my PDF and there's just a lot of hands on shoulders coming up, but nothing that, at first glance, seems to make this kind of set up necessary. So I say again: weird.

Meanwhile, weirdness doesn’t even acknowledge the continued inconsistencies with aura. Jaune heals a cut on his cheek instantaneously, but hours later Yatsuhashi needs to gripe at his aura to hop-to already? So either Jaune’s aura is far more powerful than the average person’s (never established outside of Pyrrha’s “You have a lot of it” comment), or Yatsuhashi really hurt his shoulder that badly. Hard enough that with the rest of the night and early morning to heal him, his aura is still working overtime.

Alrighty then.

So the whole student body is just kind of hanging out, striking up casual conversations. Velvet asks how Yatsuhashi is doing and he says he's fine, "Thanks to you." Wait... what did Velvet do? I mean yeah, she was there last night and she's here now, but so is the rest of the team. I don't really recall her helping Yatsuhashi in any specific way. As is the norm now, I remain mildly, endlessly confused by this novel.

But we don’t have time to delve into the gratitude attached to events I’m not actually sure happened. There’s more chit chat going on as everyone tries to figure out why they've been summoned so early in the morning. "It's not always about us," Velvet says and I nod along in agreement even though I know, as a reader, that it's absolutely about them. "As I'm often reminding Coco."

Coco fires back with how it "could be about us," noting that it would be pretty coincidental if something else was going on right now, plus Rumpole may have realized they were out last night. (Remember, Yatsuhashi wasn't subtle about trying to break down that door). This is one of those moments where I agree wholeheartedly with Coco's logic, but kind of hate to encourage the 'It's all about us' attitude. Velvet might be smiling, but as previously established this is an ongoing theme within RWBY's characterization that it could really stand to do without.

Yatsuhashi then offers some "unsolicited advice" about how Rumpole could afford to slow down some and "let things come at their own pace," to which I respond, "Huh?" Where in the world did this come from? Previously the whole group—including Yatsuhashi, considering he didn't speak out against it—was concerned that Rumpole wasn't doing enough to track down the Crown. That is, do more, move faster, get it done already. You haven’t gotten it done? Okay, we’ll do it instead. Now he's providing this subtle criticism in response to a meeting, as if that's an inherently odd or bad thing for a headmistress to do. You want the woman to do extra work faster but slow down when it comes to her actual job?

It reads to me like Myers is trying to put a lot of wise-sounding dialogue into Yatsuhashi's mouth—you know, the Asian character who keeps bringing up things like meditation and mindfulness—but hasn't bothered to think about whether that dialogue makes any sense. Of course, we then immediately backtrack to reveal that his comment was really about Coco not pushing the team too hard, but... that's not what he said? And Coco clearly didn't get the message. And the hidden meaning of the words didn't come across too well if your reader is squinting at what was said until the author has to straight up go, 'This is what Yatsuhashi actually meant.' Maybe just... have him say that? Give us some significant looks towards Coco, at the very least. Something to clue us in here that Yatsuhashi is (weirdly) blaming Rumpole for Coco's flaw.

Then he just ruins the whole scene further by mentally commenting that if all this extra work was hard on them, "what would it do to SSSN?" Ugh, look. I don't even like SSSN very much. I didn't shed a tear when they left the main series and would shrug if they ever came back, so you know the story is ragging on them too much when I'm standing up for the group at the bottom of my Character Adoration list. The duality of 'SSSN is so incompetent I don't even know how they're alive' and 'That, in comparison, makes us the best team ever' got old forty pages ago, yet I have the distinct feeling it won't be letting up any time soon.

Headmaster Theodore finally arrives to break up this thrilling conversation and the students erupt into thunderous applause. "It was what [he] expected. It was what he inspired whenever he appeared." That... is absolutely hilarious. This guy is so much of a showman, so insanely over the top, that he expects people to treat his everyday appearance as a spectacle worthy of praise and they agree. You know who he reminds me of?

The king himself, Alex Louis Armstrong. I'm digging this already. It's absurd and I will forever question RWBY's ability to balance comedy with its darker tones... but I'm counting this one as a win so far. There's got to be something to praise about this book.

Just as important, we get a description of Theodore's positively insane outfit. I immediately googled to see if someone had drawn him and the fandom did not disappoint. I'm not going to include the image here in case the artist, Edisu, doesn't want their work reposted like that, but I highly recommend you check out the link and get a visual.

The only thing left to say about this fashion monstrosity is that he has a "flowing gray-blue cape, the color of a stormy sky." I'll let our favorite textile engineer make my point for me:

Honestly, between Ruby's cape and Weiss' hair someone is going to end up in trouble one of these days.

In this world free of horrific cape tragedies, we've segued into a flashback which is, frankly, kind of boring compared to the others we’ve gotten. It's just the group meeting Theodore, information and characterization that could have easily been distributed to the audience in the present. It's starting to feel like the structure of including a flashback each chapter is hindering Myers somewhat, just because every chapter doesn’t necessarily need one, but that’s far from the biggest issue to tackle.

We learn that Theodore (really Rumpole) did a bunch of research on all the students involved in the Vytal Festival and they're very pleased that Team CFVY has joined them now, despite the horrific circumstances. We again hear about how judgmental Coco can be, that her judgements are rarely wrong... but if they are wrong she's the last to admit it. So really that's less of a 'This character has good instincts about other people' and more 'This character is just, as said, judgmental and then stubborn about it when she’s wrong.' Theodore, however, seems like a cool dude:

“Ah, she speaks!” Theodore strode toward Velvet. His voice softened. “You didn’t fail, my dear. You fought. You stayed, far longer than anyone would have asked or expected of a student. And now you’re here. Do you want to be here? Will you fight for Shade the way you did for Beacon, Velvet Scarlatina?”

This is great. This is the kind of reassurance I would expect from a headmaster who, thus far, has received a fair amount of praise. Unlike his students, Theodore understands the risks Beacon students took and when it was time for them to make a life-saving retreat. He's inspiring while also being empathetic and honestly? That's the most I've had that 'You're a good person' sense from RWBY in a very long time.

Now watch Theodore turn out to be evil lol.

He cuts the tension of the serious conversation by proclaiming that if any of them doubt whether they should be here, they should take it up with him via a fight. Theodore announces this while striking a pose. I say again:

We then get some more reflection on how Theodore compares to Ozpin:

Ozpin had believed in you before you did, almost like he knew your true potential, despite what your transcripts or fighting abilities looked like. Theodore believed you had potential, but you had to earn it and prove yourself to him first.

I agree with that and I'm pleased to see that this time the comparison didn't involve criticizing Ozpin in an effort to build Theodore up. It’s likewise a useful description and I think it provides us with at least one interpretation of why the RWBYJNR group has discarded Ozpin so thoroughly. The addition "despite what your transcripts or fighting abilities looked like" implies that Ozpin sees potential in everyone. It doesn't matter how presumably flawed you might be—in physical strength, like Jaune; in morals, like Lionheart— Ozpin will see the good in you and give that good a fighting chance. That's why he's the one tasked with doing something as crazy as uniting the whole world because he's the one person capable of seeing that potential in literally everyone. That much is true. But the flipside of this is that, unlike when in interacting with someone like Theodore, no one expects to have to work for Ozpin's faith, his praise... his trust. With Theodore you have to "earn" the respect he gives you right from the start. With Ozpin it's free! So surely that means such faith extends to every possible situation, right?

Which is when you run into trouble. When the situation is no longer "I'll give you a chance in my school" but something much more serious like "I'm risking the whole world on your character." Ozpin is an optimist, but he's also cautious as hell (with good reason), so though he sees the potential in everyone he knows he can't let his own hope for humanity blind him to reality. That person might betray you. They might turn on you. They might give up and hurt you in the process... even if you want to believe that people are simply better than that. Wanting doesn’t make it so.

If someone who had as little interaction with Ozpin as Team CFVY did nevertheless developed such a strong sense of, "Yeah, he believes in everyone!" then it seems likely that Team RWBY, already sporting a special connection with him, thought they were shoe-ins for every possible secret and task they might ask of him. Their time at Beacon was defined largely by both intentional favoritism and coincidences that could arguably be read as such. Ruby gets to go to Beacon two years early. She gets to be team leader. The sisters stay together despite teams supposedly being random. Team RWBY goes on missions not meant for first years. Team RWBY is given a nudge-nudge-wink-wink about The White Fang so that they can do what they’re able to help. Team RWBY was friends with Pyrrha, next in line for the Maiden powers. They got used to Ozpin simultaneously solving all the real problems that showed up and letting them play at being important, all while the rest of the school had to follow normal rules. They’re special. But then Beacon falls, the game is over, and they're blindsided by having to earn trust and privileges in the real world. Playing at huntresses in the safety of your headmaster’s school is over and Ruby in particular never got that there was a massive difference between that and a real war where the fate of the world hangs on your trustworthiness and ability to keep it together. It’s why she announces to the Argus guards that she is a huntress while attacking the people she’s meant to protect.

Which would be a fantastic arc to give them if the show ever had someone sit the group down and tell them how childish and selfish they're being. Instead, they're still being handed that trust and privilege—you can go into Atlas despite stealing from the military, you get your licenses years early, you get to carry an incalculably valuable relic around—while likewise still getting mad that the adults around them don't give them more. This comparison here, though realistically just a throwaway passage in a novel rather iffily connected to its original series, starts to highlight the excellent situation RT set up... and then didn't do anything with.

But I've gone on about this long enough. There are just two other things I'd like to point out about this flashback. The first is that it may help us get a handle on Ozpin's age (if we're willing to accept these books as canon, despite their other inconsistencies). Earlier we're told that "Headmaster Theodore’s whole style should have been ridiculous for a man likely in his forties, maybe older" and here, in describing their different approaches, we get "Headmaster Ozpin, who had been younger but seemed much older." So that could potentially put Ozpin his his late 30s if he's noticeably younger than Theodore in his 40s. Or, in his 40s if the "maybe older" part is right and Theodore is in his 50s. I can’t imagine that Theodore is in his 60s. Not much to go on, admittedly, but I'll take whatever I can get. The interesting thing is that if Ozpin really is that young and Qrow is now (presumably) in his early 40s, wouldn't that have made them basically the same age during his Beacon days? Perhaps even giving us an Ozpin who was younger than his oldest students? I don't know. It's really less of a definitive piece of information and more messy speculation to add to the pile—which is par the course for RWBY nowadays.

The second detail I wanted to point out was that despite all their supposed differences, Headmaster Theodore and Professor Rumpole have a very Ozpin-Glynda relationship going on. For all the cosmetic changes it boils down to the same dynamic. Both headmasters are powerful, quirky men who at first glance appear to be rather useless at their jobs, requiring the confident headmistress to swoop in and manage the daily running of a school. Those two do the heavy lifting while their bosses work wonders from behind the scenes (a la The Wizard). When I read Rumpole chastising Theodore for claiming he investigated the students, or when she reminds him that there isn't time to have an impromptu duel with his students, I couldn't help but think about Glynda reluctantly letting Ozpin invite Ruby to Beacon early, or cleaning up the cafeteria while he shrugs off the mess. To be clear, I don't necessarily mean this as a criticism, just an observation. In truth I'm not sure how I feel about it, but it adds to the overall sense that Shade is just Beacon with a slightly different coat of paint. As I've mentioned previously, for all the text's insistence that Shade isn't like the other schools, the story hasn't done a good job of demonstrating that cultural difference in any meaningful way and similarities like this only add to the feeling that this isn't really a unique Kingdom—or at least not one with a firm enough identity to be persuasively unique. Same rule breaking team sneaking out on their own mission. Same secondary team who’s talented, but not as special as the protagonists. Same strange man with his responsible woman running the school. The details differ, obviously, but the structure feels largely the same.

As mentioned above, once the flashback ends Theodore tries to spar with one of the students but is quickly shut down by Rumpole because, you know, they have a meeting to hold. Apparently there have been complaints lately from the local security about Shade students interfering with official huntsmen business.

“I told you it was about us,” Coco muttered.

Coco, when you hear that people are pissed that you, an unlicensed student, are disrupting the careers of professionals every night the takeaway should not be, 'Aha! I knew it was all about me.'

Yatsuhashi at least provides a more nuanced perspective. "This wasn’t right, though. If they hadn’t interfered, those Huntsmen would have kidnapped an innocent person." He's right. They did help someone, but what they've failed to learn is that an individual good deed does not excuse the unlawful steps they took in getting there. If Team CFVY had just been out on the town and happened to spot some shady characters pulling shit, then put a stop to their kidnapping, that's fine. That's heroic. What is not heroic is them going out with the express purpose of fixing a situation that trained professionals told them they should not be trying to fix—key word being “trying,” given that they all understand Rumpole’s worry that they’ll make things worse. It was enough to send them back home last night... after Yatsuhashi failed to break into the hideout. The problem is not the "I helped someone who needed it" part but rather the "I'm arrogant enough to think that my presence is necessary" bit.

If having students conducting investigations was wanted or necessary, it would be a part of the curriculum: acknowledged or otherwise. AKA yes, Ruby. It would be very helpful if you'd head on off to Mountain Glenn, under the observation of a seasoned huntsmen, and report back if there's any dubious activity going on over there. Ozpin said, 'Yes please' to the extra (highly controlled) help while these professionals are saying, 'No thanks.' The fact that Team CFVY acts is if they're justified in continuing this investigation—and worse, that the story keeps validating those feelings—undermines their otherwise heroic actions. RWBY really is a series that struggles with giving its protagonists compelling reasons for getting involved in the fight. ‘Because I want to help’ might be a noble motivation, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you should. The Mountain Glenn mission was like a chef allowing a talented, aspiring teen to help them with a dish, all of it done under their tutelage. Team CFVY’s investigation is like the teen sneaking into the kitchen after dark to doctor all the prep for the next day’s cooking under the assumption that they’ll make it even better. Hell, maybe they will! But that’s not the point. Your help was not invited — explicitly denied, actually —and there’s a very good chance you’ll mess something up.

So because this group of eight continually insists that they know best, the whole school is required to stay on campus after nightfall. Huzzah!

It’s just too bad these consequences hurt others just as much as Team CFVY. The other students are pissed about this. I would be too! Team CFVY remains adamant though that they did the right thing, no guilt here, relying on the reader inaccurately comparing ‘saving lives’ with ‘losing free time off campus’ in order to come out on Team CFVY's side. They still fail to understand that helping people is not the reason they’re being punished.

Theodore and Rumpole reiterate that they are working on a solution and that no one else should be getting involved. Team CVFY is no more persuaded by this speech than they were the previous ones. The announcement then segues into discussion of the former Haven students which produces... boos from the audience?? My god, what is wrong with this school? I mean I get it, school is brutal—both in real life and fiction—especially when the social dynamics of your school are written much more like a high school than a college, but usually if characters are going to drag new students it's in the semi-privacy of a bathroom or an empty hall. Groaning over the existence of war survivors in front of your headmaster is a level of confident cruelty I didn't expect.

Then again, RWBY is the show that gave us Cardin pulling on Velvet's ears in the middle of the cafeteria, so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised.

Theodore quickly bypasses the whole 'A decent number of my students hate these other students' issue and instead acknowledges that it is "difficult to adjust to a new school, an entirely new group of classmates, and most of all to life in Vacuo. Yet some of you have been separated from your original training teams.” Which is a nice way of saying that a good number of these teammates are dead. So what's the solution here?

Reinitiation Ceremony!

I'm sarcastic, but in all honesty I don't hate this idea. Far from it. Partly because I have a strong love of competitions in shonen-esque stories. Tests, trials, the obligatory tournament arc... they've always been some of my favorite parts of a series, largely because they allow the author to develop whacky and creative challenges that show off important characterization. See: Killua using a skateboard during the tunnel run before deciding that if Gon can manage running it, he can too; or Izuku using the mines and a piece of scrap to blast himself ahead of Bakugo and Todoroki. The structure of such tests forces characters to demonstrate creativity and critical thinking skills alongside strength, and that in turn reminds us of why they're our heroes. RWBY managed this a little bit with the Vytal Festival, but overall I don’t think the teams did anything particularly impressive to win. Team RWBY worked together, Nora hit people really hard with her hammer, Weiss' injury pissed off Yang enough to tap into more power... it was all stuff we had seen before and very little of it required planning or creativity. The Vytal Festival functioned more to set up the plot developments of Volume 3, which is fine, though for a while I had hoped that we would get a huntsmen license exam to do this sort of work... which obviously didn’t happen. Disappointing, but we’re at least getting something like that here.

So I love the concept. I even love the general reasoning behind holding the ceremony at all. Anyone who had spent five minutes on this blog knows that I think the groups need to learn to play well with others. Yet I also can't deny that the team dynamics provide stability for these characters, even if they've come to rely on that stability to an unhealthy degree. We've got students whose teams were presented to them not just as a professional tool, but their primary support system. You live with these people, attend all the same classes, spend your free time together, and survive life-threatening situations on a fairly regular basis. It's work, family, and friendship all rolled into one, so if the headmaster suddenly says that you get a new team, that's a whole lot more devastating than just learning that you've got a new project group to deal with. It shouldn't have come to that—a school looking to teach a profession that requires working with a wide variety of individuals should never have told four students to rely one each other and each other alone—but now that we're here you can't just break them apart with no notice. Especially with a traumatic war going on. It's hard to come to a new school, meet new people, learn a new culture... so let me rip away the one piece of familiarity you have left.

Of course, I don't really think that the teams will be broken up irrevocably, if at all. Rather, I simply want to acknowledge that despite my appreciation for these kinds of stories and despite my desire that the teams get some distance... it shouldn't be done like this. Even more-so when it’s abundantly clear—to us if not the instructors—that this little stunt is causing their students to re-live a whole bucket load of trauma. Yatsuhashi thinks about how this feels like an “out of body experience” and “It reminded [him] uncomfortably of the evacuation of Beacon Academy… He felt his breath catch in his throat.” Coco’s order to stick together “[brought] him back to the moment,” re-emphasizing that he was lost in the past for a while there. He’s clearly struggling.

Now, to be fair, this could all fall under the category of flawed characters. Meaning, anytime something awful happens in fiction we can interpret that as a skill on the part of the author: they wanted to write a scenario where the teachers are screwing up and unintentionally hurting their students. Or they know they’re hurting their students and consider that to be an acceptable sacrifice under the justification of ‘They have to get over Beacon at some point!’ There are lots of ways to paint this as Myers/RT writing complex, human characters who make ambiguous choices—a testament to their ability to write “realistically.” But to be frank I don’t really buy it. Simply because I’ve had a lot of experience now with how RWBY handles subjects like trauma and it’s only rarely been written respectfully and engagingly. I could be proven wrong as the novel continues, but it seems more likely that Myers wrote the instructors coming up with this test, wrote Yatsuhashi panicking over it, and intends to continually imply that these two things are separate plot points. Bringing both together in a narratively useful way would require acknowledging the instructors’ motivations—Why this test? Why now? Do they realize the harm they’re causing? If so, do they think it’s worth it?—and then coming to some sort of resolution, either via some recovery on CFVY’s part due to the instructors’ choices (this test did help us move past Beacon), or the instructors learning something about empathy and trauma via CFVY’s reaction (we never should have done this). I highly doubt we’ll get either.

Thus, everyone is (justifiably) horrified. The teams are gone and either the shock of that made Team CFVY prioritize feelings of safety over strategy, or they're just not going to demonstrate any of the intelligence I look for in this kind of arc, because they immediately start obsessing over staying together.

He needed to keep his team close to him. Especially Velvet. If they weren’t separated, they couldn’t be assigned to different teams.

Yatsuhashi, that is not at all what Rumpole told you:

“It’s already begun,” Rumpole said. “Everything you do from this moment forward will factor into your evaluations for new teams.”

Where in the world did you get the idea that you wouldn't be assigned a new team so long as you stuck with your old one? If I were one of the instructors here that choice would make me more likely to separate them. "Everything you do from this moment," Rumpole says, meaning that how they respond to this information is a part of the test. The team that panics and refuses to separate is the team that either can't function without one another, or at the very least believes that they can't. They're not willing to work with others and thus they're precisely the type that needs to learn this skillset. You're the ones they'll want to give new teammates to.

Of course, fate has different ideas about how things should go down. And by "fate" I mean "A completely ridiculous plot device." Team CFVY is separated because... the crowd is large I guess? It’s ridiculous. Four fighters already standing beside one another and who are now hyper-focused on staying together are not going to get swept away by a Shade size crowd who probably also want to stick with their own teammates. There are far better, far more convincing ways to keep them apart. Ozpin shot students one-by-one into the forest! Literally anything other than what we got, really.

Still, that’s what we wound up with. Yatsuhashi and Coco both try to keep the team together only for the immense power of other people existing putting a stop to their plan. Alrighty then. Before they’re dramatically swept away on different ships, however, we do get two other noteworthy bits of information that I'd like to end on. The first is Rumpole’s announcement that “When you reach your destination, your goal will be to locate a gold figurine and bring it back to the school” to which Fox replies, “Great. Glad this is fair for everyone. Who can see.” And you know what? He's right. Maybe Fox and I will both be proven wrong (I feel like I'm writing that a lot this chapter...) but unless there's some miscommunication here or a surprise in store, a goal of "locat[ing] a gold figurine" is indeed a sight based challenge and, when placed in a test that is deliberately separating Fox from his team, puts him at a severe disadvantage.

The second is simply that the year levels of the students will not be a factor in the creation of new teams. “What year we are? Yatsu thought. This can’t be right. How could a first-year keep up with fourth-years?” to which I respond, "Um... that's the entire show?" The webseries RWBY is about how Team RWBY, starting out as first years, has surpassed everyone around them, to the point where they're now beating the best team in Atlas. Time-wise they're still second years—far as I can figure out, anyway—so if second years can beat elite military operations, a first year can stand toe-to-toe with second, third, and fourth years. More crucial to Yatsuhashi's thought process—because as an in-world character he doesn't necessarily know what Team RWBY has been up to post-Volume 3—he's still seen how well first years did at Beacon. Ruby was let in two years early. Pyrrha is such a phenomenally talented fighter her face is on their cereal boxes. A first year, Yang, went on to compete in the Vytal Tournament final (even if it was rigged. Yatsuhashi doesn't know that), and Team CFVY fought beside a number of first years at the Battle of Beacon. Now, you all know that I think education and experience are damn important. I'm not saying Yatsuhashi is flat-out wrong to question whether there would be any issues attached to slamming, say, a first year, two second years, and a fourth year into one team (especially when you consider practical questions like going to classes), but the general takeaway of "How could they keep up?" seems a tad strange. You know first years can keep up. You watched it happen, both in your former school's curriculum—first years get to go on an upper-level mission—and in real life battle. This knee-jerk response reads as even worse after five chapters of looking down on Team SSSN. Team CFVY really thinks highly of themselves, huh.

Honestly, it feels like our authors didn't pay a whole lot of attention to the implications of the dialogue/thoughts they’re giving to the characters which is, again, par for the course at this point. Like the questions attached to the test, this feels less like giving Yatsuhashi a flaw (he, as an in-world character, hasn't bothered to think through whether his knee-jerk assumption about first years is supported by his experiences) and more like a flaw of the creators. That sounds like a legitimate concern—in the same way that Yatsuhashi's advice to Rumpole sounds generically wise—but poke at it a bit and you start finding a number of cracks. An author who is well aware of the world they've built and strives to adhere to it might have had Yatsuhashi acknowledge some of the amazing things he's seen first years do and still conclude that there are problems with this decision. That's legit. As it stands, Yatsuhashi just sounds ignorant and (again) overly confident, which I don't trust to be a moment of character insight as opposed to an authorial blip.

Which is about where we end. The team is split on different airships, no one is happy about it, and we're left with this somewhat unsettling image:

Headmaster Theodore was waving and whooping, like it was all some terrific game, while Professor Rumpole watched silently, her hair whipping around in the wind and an unsettling grin on her face.

This gives me some hope that the story will treat the problems attached to this test respectfully. The description of Theodore acting "like it was all some terrific game" is a mark against his character and Rumpole straight up has an "unsettling grin on her face." Is she one of the baddies? Potentially. Will I ever again get adult characters who aren't depicted as inept, traitorous, or just so flawed that they unwittingly cause great damage to their students? Probably not. These two desires remain constantly at war with one another. RWBY introduces issues that the story should tackle, but the only issues it acknowledges are those attached to the adults. So we have everyone doing a range of iffy things, but only the elders are likely to be punished or (better yet) learn something over the course of the tale. The double standard remains so strong across the franchise that at this point I just want to raise a THE ADULTS DID NOTHING WRONG banner and call it a day. Not because they're actually free of mistakes or even, at times, downright cruelty, but because if our protagonists constantly get that free pass I'm not sure why everyone else can't too.

Anyone for a spot of denial?

But I've now written nearly twice as much as the actual chapter in question. It's time to stop! At this rate I’ll have written the equivalent of five Before the Dawns in my attempt to recap just one. #yikes

Until Chapter Six 💜

#rwby #BTD Recaps #Before the Dawn #mymetas

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transjoyblog · 3 years

Text

The 5 Most Powerful Lessons I Have Learned from Chasing Financial Independence

Photo by KANIKA PANT on Unsplash

I have always been interested in money. I have always understood the value of saving for something you want and the value in owning your own means of making more money. My mother always told me that working for someone else would never be stable and the only way to independence is owning your own business. This is not exactly true, but this advice did spur my interest in the concept of financial independence. I ran across this idea for the first time when I was maybe 17 years old. I read an article by the great Mr. Money Mustache and ended up doing a deep dive on his website. I was inspired. I thought that I had finally found the solution to the risk associated with owning a business. I was going to be financially independent.

Then I got a little older and had to start providing for myself and my girlfriend. We had a goal of moving out of our parents house, and the tiny little desert town where we grew up, to move to a much larger (read: more expensive) job market. That’s when I learned my first lesson:

Financial independence is simpler than it seems, but that doesn’t mean it’s easier.

If you spend any amount of time on a blog dedicated to the FIRE movement you are bound to come across an article (or 10) about the few simple habits that lead to financial independence. These articles are really informative, and a helpful place to start when building frugal habits, but this simplicity belies frugality’s true nature. Put simply, being frugal is hard. Really hard. My girlfriend and me have made some big sacrifices. When I wasn’t making any money, (think $500/month) we didn’t have many friends. We hung out at my girlfriend’s sister’s house a lot, and we ate really simply. Oatmeal for breakfast, rice and beans for lunch, and we went over to her parents house for dinner more often than we wanted to simply because we would otherwise go without dinner. Other factors contributed to this particularly extreme situation. My girlfriend was very sick, so she couldn’t eat well even if we could have afforded it, and she was so weak that maintaining friendships was basically impossible. We also weren’t perfect about it, even when I was making that little. I failed, messed up, got angry, frustrated, and worn out more often than I was successful, but that all served the larger goal of teaching me that simple habits do matter, but I couldn’t expect them to be easy to execute.

2. Know thyself

This particular period of our lives was also filled with navigating the consequences of our parents financial mistakes. My mother decided to take out huge student loans just to get my sister out of the house, and send her to a rather expensive university in the middle of the country. This proved to be a terrible decision. My sister ended up transferring to her local community college, for which she needed to take out more loans. All told, my sister came out with an AA and something in neighborhood of $60,000 of student debt between herself and the loans my mother took out on her behalf. I’m not sure how much of this my mother helped her with, but suffice it to say my mother was in a terrible financial position for awhile, one from which she has yet to fully emerge. This set of dubious decisions was motivated by more complex thinking than I have laid out here, but the end result is the same nonetheless. My mother stretched herself too thin.

If you are truly pursuing financial independence, you have to have a really clear picture of your finances, but you also have to understand how you react to financial pressure, how much risk you are able to take with your investments, and you have understand what your target is. If you are the kind of person who just throws money at a problem until it goes away, you will find it difficult to save for any kind of future. You have know that you have this tendency and consciously make decisions against this knee jerk reaction. If you don’t like having your back against the wall when creditors come calling, pay off your credit card balance in full every month, and never take out a loan that you expect someone else to help pay for (because there will inevitably come a time when they can’t pay). If you are just aiming to get your kid through college, then look for the most affordable option. Don’t send them to the 4 year right away if you really can’t afford the loans for all four years. An important tip for all you parents out there, know yourself and know your children. Be brutally honest in assessing your child’s ability to perform at university because it is simply impossible for them to be. People simply do not have a clear enough picture of their own abilities at any age, let alone an untested 18 year old. If my mother had done nothing else but this, she could have avoided everything. If she and my sister had just been honest about what my sister could handle, they would have realized that sending her to an expensive, extremely difficult program 1,000 miles from home was maybe not the best idea. She could have even gone to the community college in a better location. That alone would have saved them tens of thousands of dollars. My theory is that my mother was a little blinded by her own history, and she didn’t want to deny her child the same opportunity that her parents gave her. My mother left home at 17 years old for a very expensive (at the time), extremely difficult program at a private university 1,000 miles from her childhood home. This is where their stories diverge. My mother’s university was not nearly as expensive as my sister’s. My mother is also a very different person than my sister. She was the kind of kid who kept track of her own grades from 4th or 5th grade on, and encouraged her children to do the same. She did this because she, in her words, “wanted every single point [she] deserved”. Unsurprisingly, neither my sister nor myself actually did this. Ever. Not even in college. We are just different people. And if my mother had been able to admit this fact, she could have saved everyone a lot of headache.

3. FI is a huge goal, and it may seem impossible when viewed from the start

Most people understand that being the first person of your family to graduate from college is a huge moment for a lot of people, and rightfully so. College can be incredibly difficult especially if you are the first person in your family to attend to completion. The one thing that people like myself, whose family has had 3 generations of college grads, don’t even think to consider is that families that do not have this privilege may not have the full picture of what it takes to finish college. The first person to graduate will not only be doing it alone, but they will have to balance the pull of a family that may not understand or respect how much time, money, and effort you actually have to invest to achieve graduation. The same basic issue arises when you are pursuing financial independence. Your family may not even understand what you mean, or why it matters so much to you. You will have to be prepared for this possibility, no matter what goal you are striving toward. However, just like being the first person to graduate college in your family, being the first person to achieve financial independence is a huge accomplishment.

This something that I thought I knew. I was aware of how large an undertaking this would be before beginning my pursuit, but I call it a lesson because I didn’t truly know how this reality felt until I was in the middle of it. As I get older, and my personal finances are no longer purely theoretical, I have come to understand just how difficult FI is. The pandemic brought this into sharp relief. I lost my job at a bakery, went on unemployment, and moved back in with my girlfriend’s parents while still paying rent in San Diego. I got a job a few months later, and it was a good one. I thought I was set for awhile. I thought we had our FI strategy in view; I was wrong. The company couldn’t afford me anymore and let me go after just under 3 months. All of sudden, we were living off of our small savings. We burned through them because unemployment took about 2 months to get my payment to me. I ended up taking a minimum wage job at a factory. I hated it. We were back to being broke and making minimum wage, this time with less savings, more overhead costs, and no way to know if I would be able to find a better job any time soon. Financial independence never looked further away. This experience did however, serve as a great way to really drive home the fourth lesson:

4. Odds are, it will take a lot longer than you originally hoped, and when you are just starting out you will face major setbacks especially if you are in a lower income bracket

Dealing with setbacks in an effective and resilient manner is something you should anticipate and prepare for, regardless of when you start your journey towards independence. Basically anyone with any level of financial savvy will give you this sage piece of advice. It was losing my job twice in one year, however, that taught me that frugal habits are great tools, and they will help you get out of and avoid a lot of pain and suffering. But that doesn’t mean that these habits are a magic shield that will save you from any downside. Setbacks are hard on you. They can mess with your mind, and cause you to doubt everything you thought about your progress up to that point. When I get into this state of mind, I have found that it helps to remind yourself that progress is not a linear equation. Progress is a lot more like the Japanese proverb “Fall seven, rise eight.” You have to be prepared to have that kind of grit.

5. It is a lot harder to save money, when you don’t make money

There has been a lot of ink spilled, both physical and digital, on exploring the different aspects of the phrase “Money doesn’t buy happiness.” One of my favorite studies to cite on this issue is a study out of Purdue University that explored the concept of “income satiation” around the world. Meaning, how emotionally and physically “satisfied” people report being in relation to their annual income. This is a quote pulled directly from the abstract of the study. “Globally, we find that satiation occurs at $95,000 for life evaluation and $60,000 to $75,000 for emotional well-being.” This statistic has been quoted, analyzed, and touted by many a finance journalist as proof that money doesn’t buy happiness. However, I would be very happy making $60,000 to $75,000. With our current expenses my girlfriend and me could save for financial independence within a decade or so of making that much money. This would include reaching all of our goals of buying a house, and land, and finishing college. But a lot of people simply will never have a salary this high. They may have a total household income in this range, but living in a 2 income household is, in itself, a privilege. Once I realized that I could feasibly never make that much in a salaried position without a college degree, I had to expand my FI strategy beyond just “get a decent job, save as much as possible, invest a ton of money, and wait.” I have to invest in my education. I have to invest as early as possible in the stock market. I have to build something outside of a regular job that could possibly act as a hedge against job market instability. I have to make “earn more money” a huge priority. I never thought that was a worthwhile pursuit but it really is. Making money opens up so many opportunities, if you know what to do with it. Which is why it would be good for higher income earners, and people that have already achieved FI to remember that making money is difficult. Investing time, energy, money, and effort into growing something that may not even pay off is simply not possible for a lot of people, and it would serve anyone well to remember this throughout their journey to financial independence.

Citations:

Jebb, A.T., Tay, L., Diener, E. et al. Happiness, income satiation and turning points around the world. Nat Hum Behav 2, 33–38 (2018). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41562-017-0277-0

#finance #financial independence #entrepreneur

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smilemingyu · 4 years

Text

a free meal with an ex

member: kim mingyu (seventeen)

word count: 4,070

genre: getting back together!au, humor, fluff, kind of angst??

summary: all you wanted was a free meal at your favorite restaurant, of course your ex boyfriend mingyu had the same idea in mind.

notes: this was mostly inspired by a hooters valentine’s day deal, so, happy valentine’s day! also, i’m not too proud of this one so sorry if it kind of sucks, haha. all my friends have bfs and i felt like coping with it by writing something about my ultimate bias, so here it is.

This Valentine’s Day was different than the last for you.

A couple things have changed for you:

You didn’t have a boyfriend this year, having broken up two months ago with your boyfriend, Kim Mingyu. You tried to ignore that fact, also along with the fact that all of your closest friends had a boyfriend or girlfriend themselves. You definitely felt significantly lonelier.

You didn’t have friends to hang out with this year. Read the above statement that your friends had their significant other to be with this year.

With the couple of things that changed, you start searching out for things that you could do on the day of Valentine’s Day which was coming up in three days. Walking into your favorite restaurant, a chicken restaurant you had loved every since you moved to the city. It was cheap, comfortable and you had made friends with your usual waiter, Seungcheol, who remembered yours (and by default Mingyu’s) order in the past year.

Sitting at your usual place, Seungcheol comes up and greets you, “Hey, (Y/N), your usual?”

You think for a second as if you would actually change your order but end up nodding in the end.

“You coming here for Valentine’s Day?” He asks, writing down your order. You look up, confused as to why he would ask that. He knew you weren’t with Mingyu anymore, so coming to your shared restaurant on the romantic holiday seemed a little weird to you. Before you could answer, Seungcheol slides a pamphlet to you. You look down at it. It’s a deal for Valentine’s Day which definitely peaked your interest. “You get a free meal if you print out a photo of your ex and bring it here. I’m sure you have a ton of pictures with Mingyu. Only catch is you have to bring it to tear up to get the meal.”

You laugh at his words.

Of course you had pictures with Mingyu, Mingyu adored taking photos of everything you were surprised he never thought to just become a photography major. Mingyu definitely loved taking selfies with you and against your friends better judgement you still had all of them in an album on your phone.

Seungcheol notices you thinking, and then knocks on the table to get your attention. “Think about it, you get a free meal for a small price.” And then he heads off to the kitchen to place your order in.

You bit your lip in contemplation.

Despite having broken up with Mingyu two months ago, you weren’t sure if you were yet at the point of “over him” to actually tear up a photo of him. If you’re being honest, you still loved Mingyu. More often than not, you feel like reaching out to him but you also have too much pride to actually do so. He let you go in the first place, basically agreeing it was best to break up when you suggested the idea at the time and he easily got his stuff from your apartment and returned you yours. You were a bit annoyed that he didn’t actually try to work things out, which made you feel like he didn’t actually want to stay in the relationship with you anyways. You sigh. Maybe tearing up his photo would be a good thing to do, maybe it would help you get over him and move on in a way.

You’re too distracted by your thoughts that you don’t notice Seungcheol coming to you with your drink until he sets it down.

“Your food will be out soon,” He tells you. “You think it over?”

“I did,” You say, picking the pamphlet up again. “I think I might do it. Not like I have anything better to do. Plus, a free meal from the best place in this city? Count me in.”

Seungcheol laughs at you, “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

He heads to another one of his tables and you quickly pull out your laptop to get some work done before you get your food. Not much happens afterwards, you make some conversation with Seungcheol who sometimes gets called out on slacking by his coworker and then you head home, texting your friends about your newfound plans for Valentine’s Day which they encourage. It’s not like they didn’t like Mingyu, though, they just didn’t like you not moving on from him which you understood. One of your friends sends a thumbs up over your texts and then adds on, “while you're at it, you should delete your album of him on your phone” which you ignore in favor of grabbing ice cream from your freezer and watching a variety show that was playing on your TV.

Valentine’s Day comes around and you’re prepared with your picture of you and Mingyu, sitting side by side at an Ice Cream place. It’s your favorite photo of you together, with Mingyu looking at you with bright eyes which kind of makes your chest hurt thinking about how happy you two looked together. You think if you can actually tear this photo up, you’re definitely on the road to getting over him.

You put the photo in your bag, grabbing it and switching off the lights of your apartment before heading to the restaurant.

When you get there, you’re not too surprised by how busy it seems. The restaurant is a place that was sat in the middle of a college town, so of course it would have it’s fair share of young adults ready to get free chicken at the cost of bitterly tearing a photo of someone they no longer love. You couldn’t blame them. Free chicken is the best chicken, anyways.

You have to wait in a line for a little bit, before Seungcheol finally seats you to a table by yourself, one a little further in the back that was different from your usual place. Being sat, you feel the loneliness sort of wash over you when you notice a group of people at your usual place.

Seungcheol seems to notice, “Happy Valentine’s Day, (Y/N), ready for some free chicken?”

You snort at that. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cheol. How is working this busy?”

He shrugs, “Not that bad, actually. Other than the occasional panic attack, I’ve gotten tons of tips tonight so I’m feeling good.” You nod at his words, before noticing his coworker, Joshua, leading a tall figure to the table beside you. Seungcheol follows your eyes when they widen at the sight of who Joshua was leading. He sits your ex-boyfriend down at the table beside you, and you immediately don’t know how to feel as he asks Mingyu what drink he wants.

Seungcheol laughs out loud, and you glare at him. Mingyu perks up at Seungcheol’s laugh and he and Joshua look in your direction. It takes everything in you to not shrink into the booth. His eyes widen the way yours had just done when he sees you and you look away.

Looking away isn’t enough, though, as Mingyu calls out your name and Joshua heads over to Seungcheol before pulling him to the kitchen with him. You glare in Seungcheol’s direction. You just know he totally set you up.

“(Y/N), hey, what are you doing here?” Mingyu asks as if he doesn’t know. You finally look at him and meet eyes with him. “I mean, here on Valentine’s Day. Your friends didn’t have plans with you?”

Salt on a wound. You frown, “No, they’re doing stuff with their boyfriends. I decided to come here because it’s my favorite restaurant.”

“And they’re having a deal,” Mingyu adds on for you, glancing down at your bag that was sat beside you in the booth. You shift uncomfortably. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you, I’m here to do the same. Just with a different ex.” He waves a photo around and you catch sight of a photo of him with a person before you. It makes you frown even more. Did he have that person on his mind in the time you were dating? Was he bringing their photo here to tear up so he could finally get over them like you were doing?

Seungcheol comes back with your drink, cutting off any response you would give to Mingyu and Joshua brings Mingyu’s to him. When Mingyu gets distracted with Joshua asking what he wants, you tug on Seungcheol’s sleeve, pulling him down to your height.

“You set this up!” You quietly accuse him, not wanting Mingyu to hear. “You had to! I’m going to kill you Choi Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol just laughs in return, put doesn’t pull himself from your grip. “Come on, Valentine’s Day would be boring without my favorite couple, now wouldn’t it be? Jeonghan was the one who suggested it, by the way, I just went along with it. So if you’re going to kill anyone, kill him,” He now pulls himself out of your grip as it loosens when you realize Mingyu’s friend was the one who set this up. “Besides, neither of you are over each other and you broke up for a dumb reason. I’m not saying get back together, necessarily, but at least be friends again, it’s annoying always having to text him when he can come in.”

You always wondered why you never saw Mingyu here. While it was both of your favorite restaurants, he was the one who introduced you to it, so you were surprised that after your break up you never saw him here. You always thought that maybe he stopped coming, not wanting to see you. You never knew he actually actively seeked out times you weren’t there, but it made sense.

Seungcheol gives you a thumbs up, before walking away and going to another table and you’re left to sip on your drink contemplating if you should have ordered something alcoholic instead. Glancing over at Mingyu, you’re not surprised he ordered a beer. He was always a chicken and beer kind of person.

You pull out your phone, thinking maybe he wouldn’t talk to you anymore now that he was distracted with his drink, but you’re poorly mistaken when you hear a cup being put down on your table and look up to see Mingyu sliding into the booth in front of you.

“Hear me out before you glare at me,” He says, putting the picture of his ex downside on the table as your eyes follow it. “The place is busy so opening a table for someone else is the right thing to do and, like, it feels pretty lonely sitting alone, doesn’t it? One meal together won’t hurt.”

You want to tell him to speak for himself. The one meal might not hurt him, but you were here wanting to tear his photo to get over him, more so now than before now that he was here with someone else’s photo.

“Fine, you’re right, I guess. It is pretty lonely surrounded by so many groups,” You say. Mingyu smiles at your agreement. Even though you had broken up with him, the two of you never actually argued. You agreed on most things, which always made you feel like he was too good to be true. You fit together really well. The reason you had broken up with him was dumb, like Seungcheol said, you started to get insecure that maybe Mingyu was staying with you because he had nothing better to do. “What did you order?”

“My usual,” Mingyu says, before taking a gulp of his beer. You nod, knowing exactly what his usual was. He would always order hot wings with fried pickles, you would always order a chicken sandwich along with fried pickles, too. “You?”

“Me, too,” You answer, also taking a drink from your cup. It was a bit awkward, but you tried to ignore it. It was a while since you had talked to him, the last time being a month ago when you had “accidentally” called him while drunk, which you liked to not talk about. He had found it amusing, sending a text to you the next day asking how hungover you were feeling but you didn’t reply.

You watch him bite his lip, “What picture did you choose?” You stay silent for a second before pulling the picture you stuffed in your bag out and showing it to him. He smiles when he looks at it, “That’s my favorite photo of us.”

Of course it was his favorite too.

You were about to tell him just that when Seungcheol came to the table, setting down some bread, “Oh, Mingyu, you’re here.”

You glare at him, as if he didn’t know Mingyu would end up there.

“You knew I would come here, you’re the one who texted me earlier that I should,” Mingyu answers, looking confused. Mingyu wasn’t dumb, so you were a bit confused as to how he didn’t put two and two together and realize that you both were being set up by his friends.

“I mean, at this table. With (Y/N),” Seungcheol mentions, “I’ll let Joshua know you’re at my table now.”

He leaves, and Mingyu looks back to you.

“So,” He says, taking a drink again. “How have you been?” You almost laugh at how formal he sounded. It felt weird being like this with him when just two months ago you guys were as close as you could be, it never felt formal or uncomfortable with him, you wished it didn’t have to be like that.

“I’ve been fine, doing the usual, not much has changed,” You answer and entertain yourself by picking up a piece of the bread and starting to butter it. “This is awkward.”

He laughs at your words and you almost smile at the sound of it. You always loved his laugh, trying your best to crack jokes to make him laugh, which wasn’t actually that hard to do.

“The same for me, then,” He says and takes a piece of bread you had naturally buttered for him. “Do you have anyone you’re talking to?” He seemed to hesitate within his sentence but said it anyway. For a second you consider lying and saying that you were talking to someone. But you were a bad liar and knew Mingyu knew that.

“Nope,” You answer. “Why else would I be alone on Valentine’s Day if I was?”

Mingyu shrugged.

“Are you? Talking with someone?” You kind of didn’t want to ask it, but felt like you had to at the same time. You didn’t think he was, considering he was also here alone on Valentine’s Day, but who knows? You take a drink while waiting for his answer.

“No, I have to get over you before I can do that,” He answered, then his eyes widened as you choke on your drink. He leans over the table to pat you on the back until your choking calms down. You forgot how blunt Mingyu could be. “Are you okay?”

You let out one more cough before nodding, “I’m fine, God. Why did you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” Another shrug from him. He looks over at you, “I want to be honest with you, so.”

“You still like me?” He gives you a look, like you shouldn’t be surprised at that fact. “Why?”

“I mean, one, I never really got any closure with you, I still don’t understand why you broke up with me, but it’s fine, whatever. You don’t owe anything, you know? But, I love you, you knew that. It’s not gonna go away so easily. Did you know that apparently it takes like 15 months to get over a crush? Imagine how many months it would take to get over the person you consider the love of your life… Without any closure.” Leave it to Kim Mingyu to look into the statistics of how long getting over someone takes. You couldn’t judge him too much, though, because you did the same. Not that you would admit that.

“You consider me the love of your life?” He looks at you with the look he had given you before, like it was super obvious. “Why didn’t you… like, I don’t know, fight for us, then?” His eyebrows furrow, and as he is about to reply, Seungcheol comes up with your food. You thank him as Mingyu does too, and he seems to get the hint that you guys were in a conversation as he doesn’t even try to make conversation and goes back to work immediately. That, or the restaurant is so busy that he does have time to conversate now.

“You wanted me to fight for us?” Mingyu jumps right back into your conversation, not even paying attention to the food in front of him which was honestly a first.

“I mean, yeah,” You say but almost cringe at how crazy you must seem. “I ended up thinking you just were with me because it was a way to pass the time and when you didn’t put up a fight and just accepted the break up, it felt that way even more.” You almost giggle when Mingyu openly facepalms. You’re also glad he hasn’t touched his food yet because he definitely would have started crying if he facepalmed with fingers dirtied with hot sauce.

“I wasn’t gonna try and force you to stay with me,” Mingyu answers, putting his hand on the table and starts drumming them on it, which you always recognized as his nervous habit. You wanted to hold his hand and almost did. “I just accepted it because I thought you were over me. I didn’t want you to think you were obligated to stay with me just because I’m super in love with you.” You look down, feeling stupid for even breaking up with him in the first place.

“Are you not still into your ex, then?”

He looks super confused at your words, “What? Did you think I was into my ex? Is that a reason you broke up with me?”

“Not until tonight. If I’m being honest, I broke up with you because I felt insecure. It was stupid,” You answer. “But I brought your photo to try and help me get over you. If I can tear this photo up maybe I can move on, you know? Are you doing the same with them?”

Mingyu lets out a loud laugh and attracts a look from the table behind him. You give them an apologetic smile before giving your attention back to Mingyu again.

“I just brought their photo because it would be easy to tear,” He says, still laughing a little. “I wouldn’t be able to tear a photo of you, and I really don’t want to.” You blush. You kind of hated yourself for misunderstanding so many things.

“Sorry,” You say and his eyes soften from amusement to understanding. “I… still love you, too. I should have just talked to you about how I was feeling.” You almost hit your head on the table when dropping it to, but Mingyu quickly puts his palm up to cushion the fall. You look up to him.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself over it,” A smile is on his face, wide and comforting. “We can come back from it, you know? Especially since we both equally love each other, right?”

You lift your head up, “You’d still want to be with me even though I acted stupid?”

“You should replace acted with act,” He teases and pokes your lip as you pout. “Of course I do. Only if you still want to be with me?”

You nod, “I would love that. I miss you a lot.”

“I’d kiss you to celebrate, but first I would like to eat before my food gets cold,” You giggle at his words. That’s way more like the Mingyu you know. But thinking about it, you realize how hungry you were and feel your stomach grumble. You start to dig in as he is and if your unoccupied hands find way to each other, neither of you mention it. You make conversation at the times you’re not stuffing your face would food, and it feels really natural how easy it is to fall into conversation with him despite not having seen each other in forever. Now that you had your misunderstanding out of the way, you were thankful to just talk with him.

When you’re done with your meal, after playing rock, paper, scissors over who gets the last fried pickle, you flag Seungcheol down for the check.

He immediately eyes your intertwined hands and looks excited over it, “Are you guys back together?”

You and Mingyu make eye contact and you feel like messing with Seungcheol.

“Just for the night,” Mingyu says, and you pretend to cough to cover up your laugh as Seungcheol’s face falls. “Can’t be lonely on Valentine’s Day, right?”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says. “Well, are you doing the deal or paying?”

Mingyu picks up the picture of his ex, showing it to Seungcheol and then quickly tearing it up.

You bite your lip as you reach for the picture of you and Mingyu, before turning back to Seungcheol, “I think I’ll just p-” Your words are cut of by Mingyu plucking the picture of you two together, and tearing it up. You gasp as Seungcheol does, but Mingyu waves your looks towards him off.

“Don’t stress it,” He says, places the torn pieces down. “We can take an even better picture together later. Free chicken is the best chicken.”

You laugh, and laugh louder when Seungcheol looks excited for the second time since he’s arrived at the table, “So you two are back together!”

“No thanks to you,” You say. “Tell Jeonghan I said thank you.”

Seungcheol glares at you, “He might have come up with the idea but I’m the one who played it out!”

“Nah, I think we have Jeonghan to thank,” Mingyu agrees with you, and squeezes your hand as he looks at you fondly.

“Great,” You hear Seungcheol groan as you look back just as fondly. “I should have known it would be bad to get you guys back together. You’re great together but too chaotic.”

You just giggle at him as Mingyu pulls you up from the seat, and glance in his direction.

“See you later, Seungcheol,” You say and Mingyu sends an acknowledgement in Seungcheol’s direction as you both walk outside.

“I say we get some ice cream,” Mingyu prompts when you both make it outside. You shiver at the cold air that hits you and Mingyu lets go off your hand to slip his jacket off and put it over your shoulders. “Some ice cream and a walk through the park.”

“That’s

,” You say, slipping your arms through the sleeves of his jacket and feeling comfortable at the familiar smell that hits your nose.

“As if you don’t adore cliché’s,” He says, attaching his hand back to yours again. He got you there. “Plus, I’m pretty sure this whole night has been one big muddled cliché. Why stop there?” He wasn’t wrong, so you just nod to the idea of ice cream. “I like ice cream.”

He chuckles and looks over at you, “I like you.” You blush and try to stomp on his foot, but almost trip because he stops on the sidewalk, when he was sure you wouldn’t be getting in the way of anyone.

He catches you before you could fall. “By the way,” He says, pushing a strand of hair out of the way of your face. You smile up at him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He leans down, placing a kiss on your lips which doesn’t take too long for you to return. You smile into the kiss, before stomping on his foot, prompting him to pull back. You point your finger at him childishly, before running off in the direction of the ice cream shop. You hear his laugh follow you, and you feel happy and significantly less lonelier than you had felt at the beginning of the day.

You couldn’t wait to take some new photos with him, which you definitely that night after you guys full on ice cream and found silly places to take photos at at the park.

It was a great Valentine’s Day, and you were happy to be back with him.

#kim mingyu #seventeen scenario #seventeen fic #mingyu scenario #mingyu au #mingyu fic #seventeen au #sorry if this sucks kshdks #seventeen #seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #mingyu scenarios

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