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#it’s all a reflection of the things a lonely 14 year old wishes were better about her life

magickfromscratch · 11 months

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I recovered a past life memory as a direct result of the initiation we did, and it is really giving me pause because of how STAGGERINGLY MUNDANE it was, and yet, how impactful.

Details of my past life and gruesome death under the cut.

After I “got psychic” and before I began any formal training (as opposed to what I learned from my parents), a thing I would routinely see on the astral, regardless of context, or who I was talking to, was saw blades, circular ones, flying toward my head.

I got used to it. I’d just dodge and continue a sentence like nothing had happened. I was like a young teenager. This was not a psychic attack. If you are attacking 14 year olds, you have problems, but also this was the 1990s, so…

It went away when I started working with deities and I never gave it another thought.

When I underwent that recent death-related ritual, the saw blades came back.

I'm older and more experienced, now. So I leaned into it, and tried to figure out what I was trying to tell myself. Impressions were as follows:

The powerful scent of freshly cut wood.

The impression of sitting on the floor, listening to a radio drama, and catching a commercial break.

A spinning saw blade coming loose and hitting me straight in the head.

But most impactful was a memory of quiet reflection. I sat there, in that spartan apartment, during a commercial break on the radio, reflecting on my life.

"Is this all there is?" I asked myself. "Was I born just to cut wood?" And I thought to myself that I needed the afterlife to be real, because otherwise my only conscious experiences, ever, would be doing this boring job I hated, paying the rent, eating tinned beans, and being lonely. That thought was just too despair-inducing to tolerate.

I begged me to remember that life, so that a little piece of Stanley could survive and be conscious of having become something better and more joyful.

And so, Stanley, thirty years after my first cognition of your death, here I am. I see you. This is what you became. You're a weird, funky, non-binary wizard. You got to write stories about vampires, and meet gods, and fall in love, and eat in five star restaurants, and travel. You got to see Europe, just like you always wished you could. And you had kids, finally. You almost got to be in the movies, even (we'll keep trying on that one). I have your reverse bucket list, Stan. I won't forget. Your dreams still mean something.

#reincarnation #initiation #magic #magick #ritual #spirituality

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jenomark · 3 years

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PART 1: LUCAS, THE BOYFRIEND

➔Pairing: Lucas x Reader (Female) | Ten x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: vaginal penetration, passionless sex, exchanging money for sex, very light bdsm and mentions of pegging ➔Word count: 5,107

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

It hadn’t rained in months. It felt strange to hear it coming down hard enough to drown out Lucas’ snoring. You laid in bed and listened a little while, wishing that it would lull you back to sleep somehow. But your eyes were wide open and they kept searching for the clock Lucas kept on his bedside table. 2:45 a.m. 3:14 a.m. 4:20 a.m. Time kept moving as you stayed still, eyes occasionally glancing up at the water marks on his ceiling, and hoping the rain wouldn’t drip through.

“Lucas.” you whispered.

When he didn’t stir, you sat up in his bed and reached for your phone. He slept soundly on the nights when you had sex, which suited you just fine. You didn’t want him turning over in the night and asking you why you weren’t sleeping.

You unlocked your phone, your password far more complicated than it needed to be. You and Lucas once got into an argument when he asked you what you were hiding from him. You felt too exposed, for someone with something to hide. You felt like you no longer belonged to yourself, and he felt hurt that you didn’t want to share what secrets you kept.

Unread text messages: 56 Unread emails: 134

Your phone wallpaper was a photo of Lucas during Christmas of last year. He was smiling and holding up a gift you had bought him: an expensive watch nestled in black satin. You remembered the moment well. He opened the box and nearly dropped it to the floor when he realized it was the same model of the one he’d been lusting after for years. Every little boys dream was to own an expensive watch just like their father, and Lucas was no different.

“We can’t afford this.” Lucas had said.

You, not we. You had wanted to say it, but his family was around the Christmas tree and all eyes were on you. It was true that Lucas could not afford the watch with his low-end salary, but you could. Of course, you had to play the part of the lowly office worker with a salary fit for someone shoved into a shoebox apartment.

“Don’t worry about it,” you had said to soothe him. “You’re worth every penny.”

And Lucas was. You were with him because he was the first man in a while to make you feel alive. He used to be more daring before he got older, used to make you laugh so hard you’d nearly piss your pants. Like all things, the older things get, the harder it is to keep them in good condition. Your relationship with Lucas never failed on the surface, not really, but there were too many things brewing underneath. You were a lot like the watermarked ceiling: barely holding it together.

You checked to make sure Lucas was sleeping before opening your inbox full to the brim with emails from men. The descriptions were all the same: I’m tall, handsome, and worth your time. The names all basic and no doubt aliases, were lined in a row for as far as you could scroll down. Every once in a while, you would entertain one of them and look at their email, expanding it so you could see their plea. Pick me, I’m a winner.

Tonight's lucky winner was a twenty-three year old artist. The picture attached was of a man smiling, his whole face lighting up at whomever was behind the camera. He looked barely legal, and definitely too cute for what he wrote in his description

WinWin, 23. I want to fuck you raw and parade you around town to all of my friends.

Not today, kiddo.

You closed the email and set your phone back in your lap. You wondered how much longer you could keep it up.

You were dreaming of him, which you did often. He was sitting at his kitchen table, his tie undone and resting around his neck, and a newspaper spread out in front of him. You waltzed into the kitchen in a bouncy dress, announcing your presence with a slight clearing of your throat. The picture felt very old school, static-y lines and scalloped edges. Like a dream of the past, you were bordering in housewife territory, red lipstick turning grey in the black and white film. He looked up immediately to smile at you over his shoulder. The camera panned to reveal a table with food set on it, and two children sitting in chairs.

“Is it almost ready?” he asked

All you wanted to do was go kiss your dream husband and wrap your arms around him. You wanted those kids to pull faces, like they were really disgusted their parents were still in love after all the years. But you couldn’t move. You looked down and your little kitten heels were stuck in quicksand that was dragging you under too fast. He couldn’t save you. He didn’t even care, just went back to his newspaper. It was all white noise.

You woke with a jolt, shooting up so fast that Lucas came out of the bathroom. A toothbrush was hanging out of his mouth, and he wasn’t wearing clothes.

“Bad dream?” he asked, toothpaste spitting in all directions.

You looked at his body, just trying to collect your thoughts. Lucas assumed you were checking him out. He started flexing his muscles to make you laugh, showing you all the parts of him he’d been working out lately. You smiled for his benefit and held your hand to your chest.

“Nightmares,” you said. Lucas went into the bathroom to rinse his mouth. When he came back out, he was heading towards his wardrobe. “Are you leaving for work so soon?”

“Gym.”

“Again?” you asked. “You went last night. Isn’t it true that if you go to the gym too much you’ll leave a very disgruntled and lonely girlfriend behind?”

When Lucas wasn’t working out, he was at work. During the day, he was the terribly intimidating Veterinarian assistant, his pink scrubs and puppy pin making all the Great Dane’s growl in his direction. From another direction, all the women who worked there practically swooned when he walked his muscled body through the door.

You got out of bed and opened the blinds. “The rain stopped.”

The view was terrible, but he got what he paid for. You watched the little old lady from across the other apartment building hang her clothes on a line. When you turned back to talk to Lucas, he was silently masturbating.

“Oh shit,” he breathed.

You closed the blinds quickly before he practically tackled you, lifted you into the air and swung you around.

You screamed like you were being murdered. “Lucas! Put me down.”

He lifted up your pajama shorts and smacked your ass. His laugh was loud and boisterous, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. He dropped you on the bed. His big cock was swinging between his legs before he took it back in his hands and continued stroking himself. You weren’t in the mood for sex, but the sight of him standing over you made it hard to resist.

“I have to be at work.” you said, your eyes on his cock.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” he laughed.

He took your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed, sliding you across the sheets like hot butter in a pan. You were taking off your shorts and panties while still denying him access.

“I do!” you said. “And I need you to drop me off at my apartment so I can get my things.”

You didn’t need to tear your tank top off. Lucas pulled the spaghetti straps off on either side to reveal your breasts. His big paws were on you as he moved closer. Without wearing a condom, he pushed himself inside of you, both hands holding either breast while he thrusted.

There was no talking as you fucked. Lucas took your leg and placed it on his shoulder. He kissed your calf softly. There were always tender moments like that, where it felt like it was only him and you that existed in the world. His eyes were big and brown and full of love whenever he looked at you. You hoped that when he looked into your eyes, he didn’t just see his own reflection peering back at him.

You felt something swell inside of you with a big wave, before quelling. Lately, you couldn’t seem to orgasm with him. There was a mental disconnect somewhere between him and you, but that didn’t stop you from pretending. You moaned and told him you were coming, even though you and him could feel yourself drying up.

Lucas lifted your ass up and held your body as he moved, his pace too fast for you to enjoy. You just stopped moaning and stared at him, your mind completely blank. Whenever he came, the veins in his neck popped out. You were expecting him to come inside of you, but when he pulled out and came on your stomach, you let him. You held him as he collapsed on top of you, his big body making it harder for you to breathe.

Dressed in his gym clothes, Lucas sat in the driver's seat. The drive over to your apartment was silent, mostly because Lucas still hated that you hadn’t moved in with him yet. The other reason was the awkwardness that existed after you both had sex. You laid on the bed for far too long with his semen pooling in your belly button. Not bothering to hand you a towel to clean up, he very quietly got dressed.

Lucas had never came on you before. He had always been the romantic look-me-in-the-eyes-as-I-fill-you-up type of guy. It’s not that you didn’t like it, just that it was so out of character you were wondering if something was wrong.

“Do you want me to come inside?” he asked.

You snapped out of your thoughts, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I think I can handle it on my own.”

You got out of the car and walked up your steps without looking back at him. You went inside and closed the door behind you, leaning against the wood to regain your nerve.

You didn’t like Lucas being anywhere near your apartment. He was insecure that yours looked a little better than his. Whenever he was there, he had a million questions about the things you owned. Why they were so expensive. Why it seemed like you had never lived there. You assured him it was because you spent the majority of time at his apartment, but there was always a bitter taste left in both of your mouths any time it was brought up. The other reason was that you weren’t sure what he would find if he looked hard enough.

You ran up the stairs and unlocked your second door. You could never be too careful. Inside, you were met with a musty smell. You didn’t bother cleaning as you went, just tore through the place gathering what you needed. You stopped briefly to look at yourself in the mirror, at the way your pantsuit hugged your body. Business professional is what the saleswoman had said. It’s what all the men want.

What do you know about what men want? You wanted to ask her.

You moved on, click-clacking your way to your bedroom. Your bed was unmade, and there was trash strewn everywhere. You opened the door to your walk-in closet, grabbed a duffel bag and started shoving lingerie into it. You picked up a pair of handcuffs and threw them aside. Rifling through your things didn’t help you find what you were looking for. You cursed out loud and sat down in your closet, leaning your head against the wall.

“Must be in the other apartment.” you whispered, trying to recall where it was.

By the time you made it back to the car with Lucas, he had fallen asleep. You tapped the window and apologized for taking so long.

Lucas pulled up in front of your office building. He hadn’t asked why you brought a duffel bag, because after his nap, his attitude was so damn chipper that he couldn’t stop smiling. He leaned over the console to kiss you.

“You know what?” he said. “I’ll walk you inside.”

There was a panic in your chest. “No, baby, it’s okay.”

He didn’t hear you. He was halfway out of the car. Lucas opened your door and held out his hand for the duffel bag. Reluctantly, you placed it in his hand and got out of the car.

“So, what time do you work until?” you asked, your eyes on the bag he was holding.

“Late day,” he said, taking your hand with his other. “I won’t be home until after dinner. Save me some?”

“Of course.”

Normally, Lucas would lead you, but it was your place of work, so you did the leading. You opened the door and walked inside, your heels tapping against the marble. The woman at the front desk and the security guard both nodded at you at the same time before looking back to what they were doing. You guided Lucas to the elevator.

“Are you done the same time as always?” he asked. “I can send someone to pick you up.”

“No, that’s okay.”

You stepped into the elevator. You weren’t the only people in there. Luckily the office building was so big that you didn’t need to know everyone. He held your hand the entire ride, giving it a little squeeze. And every time he did, you were forced to look at him and smile.

“This is me.” you said, stepping out.

A glass wall separated the hallway from your offices, gold lettering etched on all of the doors. Lucas had never made it this far up, so his eyes were taking in everything like a greedy child.

“This looks expensive,” he said. “No wonder they pay you so well. Maybe I should quit and get a job here.”

You laughed. It was obligatory. You leaned on your tip-toes and kissed Lucas at the same time you ripped the duffel bag from his hands.

“Call you during break?” you asked.

Lucas smiled. “Yeah,I’d like that. I love you. Have a good day.”

You could tell he didn’t want to leave. He was too curious about what was behind the glass wall. He could see people milling about, stacks of papers in their hands. There were cubicles and privacy offices, a break room that was too high-tech for a plain office building.

“I love you, too,” you said. “If you just go down to the ground floor I’m sure someone can help you find your way out.”

You waited until the elevator doors closed to walk through the glass ones, crossing the threshold like you were walking into a new world. As soon as your heels stepped down into the grey carpet, you walked a little looser, your hips swinging. You did feel professional. And as eyes were on you in every corner of the room, you were the one person who knew exactly what men wanted.

The office. You didn’t belong. Everyone could smell it on you, that new car smell that always seemed to drive right onto their floor and disrupt everything. For many of them, you were something they couldn’t afford. Oh, how they’d love to test drive you, though. As soon as they got a tasty look at you, all cream interior and buttered seats, all eyes seemed to avoid meeting yours. You sashayed across the floor in peace, your eyes scanning cubicles and the people coming and going.

“Hey.” a familiar voice called.

You ducked down beside a cubicle. A woman sat in a chair, her long legs bare and freshly waxed. She crossed them and swiveled her chair to face you. You picked up a paper from the floor and shoved it in your pockets.

“You’re early.” she said.

“Needed time to change.” you shrugged.

You put your hand on her shoulder to lift yourself up and kept walking. No one stopped to talk to you, and there was something lonely in that feeling you couldn’t put your finger on. You stopped before a door, one of the only non-glass ones in the whole place. Your manicured fingers against the shiny door knob made you pause. You caught your reflection for the second time that day, the distorted figure grimacing back at you.

You would never open the paper so brazenly in front of other people, but it was the calm breath you needed before you opened the door. It was what would launch you, truly, from this office into the next part of your journey. You opened the paper and stared at each letter burning a hole in your retinas.

Sweetie, I miss you. Today’s advice is to never look behind you.

You tucked the paper in your bra. Every inch of you wanted to look behind you, but instead, you opened the door to the dark closet and changed your clothes.

You stepped out of the closet dressed in clothes one would find in the mens department. Sweatpants that could be worn playing basketball, a grey sports t-shirt with faded writing, and a black windbreaker. Your sneakers were white with little worn marks on the side, and your hair was thrown underneath a ball cap. If anyone thought you were crazy for entering as yourself and exiting as someone socially male passing, they didn’t bat an eye.

Passing by the cubicle, the woman whistled. “If I didn’t know you, I would have you bend me over this desk right here.”

You smirked. “Only if you pay me enough.”

You threw the duffle over your shoulder and kept walking, all of the confidence in the world in the way you moved. People still looked at you, but it was in a new, illuminated light. You walked through the glass and made it to the elevator.

“Excuse me.” you said, weaving your way past a man.

“No problem.” he said, eyeing you up as he stepped out. He stared at you until the doors closed.

In the lobby, you waved hello to the woman at the desk and the security guard. Both were unbothered by your new attire. You swung open the front door and stepped into the sunlight where a black, unmarked car was waiting for you.

“Am I too early?” you asked the driver.

“Right on time, miss.”

He opened the car door and you slid in, the leather feeling cool, even through your sweatpants. In a fancy car like that, you felt underdressed, but it was all in the job description. He shut the door and went around to the drivers side, any chatty banter he may have started falling short of his lips.

You took out your cell phone and unlocked it.

Unread text messages: 72 Unread emails: 212

You looked at the very last message from Lucas sent right after he left:

I love you more and more every day. See you when I get home.

Trees. That was all you saw. Streets with trees lining them, parks with the healthiest limbs and most luscious green leaves. They stood proud and strong, only wavering with a slight wind. Occasionally, when you were lost in thought, they played against the glass of the car window, a kiss of a leaf here and there, as if to say, “Welcome, open your eyes.”

“We’re almost there,” the driver said. “He asked that I don’t escort you inside. I expect you know your way around.”

You nodded, making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. He was judging you, you could tell. He wasn’t new, by any means, but the lifestyle took some getting used to. When you first met the driver, you were scared of what he thought of you, but now you didn’t spare a single thought for him at all.

The car came to a stop in front of a three-story brick building, its red face powerwashed to pristine condition. There were flower boxes on every windowsill and forest green shutters. A wreath on the door felt welcoming, but only if you were someone who liked open invitations. In the neighborhood, that might have been plausible, but only you really knew what lay beyond the oak front door, its stained glass windows more expensive than Lucas’ monthly rent.

“Thank you.” you told the driver.

You stepped out of the car, your sneakers crushing a twig. It was the only blemish on an otherwise clean street. You closed the door behind you and held your duffel bag in your hand. The driver waited a beat before driving off, his strict time schedule unable to be rearranged if you chickened out.

But you would never chicken out. Before you was a place you had been to many times. Anyone who looked out of their window would recognize you, even if the flavor of you didn’t sit well under their tongue. As you ascended the stairs, no one bothered to push aside their curtain for a glimpse of the girl dressed in baggy clothes, every trace of her from this morning vanished completely.

You walked right in.

You were met with a smell that hit you instantly: cinnamon. Candles burned on a foyer table, the wick barely black.

Just lit, you thought. You have to be around here somewhere.

The home inside was cozy, deep blue accents and unexplainable modern art tucked into corners of the room. It was the home of someone with an eye for the unusual, but whose very facade made one feel more comfortable with themselves. You walked further inside, your fingers touching along the walls. When you were away, you missed the smells terribly.

“Where are you hiding?” you asked. “Little kitten.”

You walked further inside, your shoes still perfectly on your feet. At his request, he wanted you to keep them on. You never asked why, but you expected that after you left, he got on his hands and knees and scrubbed his floor after your every footprint, in his bid to serve you.

“Don’t you miss me?” you asked.

There were so many doorways without doors. You weaved in and out of rooms, taking your sweet time to make sure he could hear you trampling through. You touched some things softly, and others, haphazardly. You didn’t wince as a part of a measuring cup family fell from its hook, clattering to the ground loud enough to make your teeth hurt.

“Tenny,” you said. “Come and play.”

You wandered up the stairs, your manicured fingers tapping against the wooden railing. You let the duffel fall to the ground when you made it to the top, and rubbed your shoulders.

If the downstairs was grandmother chic, the upstairs looked like the hallway of a sex club.The walls were deep sapphire and velvet, gold tassels dividing each door. You walked down the center, looking foolish and out of place. On your right, you went in through the first door to an empty bedroom. You looked around but could find nothing.

“This is taking too long,” you said. “What if I just leave?”

A sound tipped you off. Your head snapped in the direction you heard it coming from: the very last door on the left. You walked towards it, stopping before it. You rubbed the wood, massaging it in your palm.

“My little kitten.” you cooed.

You opened the door to find him in plain sight. His arms were above his head, his wrists strapped to a mechanism chained to the ceiling. He was naked and blindfolded, and there were headphones around his ears so he couldn’t hear anything. You stepped in but didn’t close the door behind you. You stood in front of him, watching as he mouthed the words to a song. When you pulled the headphones down his neck, he gave a little shake.

“You were right under my nose the whole time.” you said.

You walked around him. His joints looked like they were straining too much. He could hardly keep himself up right. And yet, he began to smile as you made your way back to him.

“How long have you been waiting?” you asked.

“An hour.” he said, his voice hoarse.

You took off his blindfold and was met with the most mischievous eyes. He looked you up and down, his cock twitching right as he got to the sneakers on his carpet. You had been in the room before, so all of the sex toys and contraptions lining the walls didn’t bother you. People liked to play, and in your line of work, you would do whatever they wanted for the right amount.

His name was Ten. He was your age, but there was something about him that felt older than your years. His eyes were that of an old soul, his body young and supple. You scraped your fingernails against his chest and watched him close his eyes and quiver.

“Should I leave you here for another?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I need you to hold me.”

Ten was one of your favorites. It wasn’t so much about the sex but the companionship. Sure, there were things he did and wanted you to do to him that were a bit different, but your attachment to him was hard to explain.

“Before I hold you,” you began. “I need to know I can’t disappoint you.”

He opened his eyes. “I don’t think you ever could.”

“You put too much faith in me.” you said.

You reached up to unhook him from the ceiling. He whimpered in pain as his arms fell. You massaged his shoulders and brought him against your bosom. Ten’s hair tickled your chin. You were scared to tell him that you forgot his blanket, that it was in your real apartment with the life you hid from Lucas.

You wrapped your arms around Ten and kissed the top of his head. You owed him honesty, so you opened your mouth and told him that you forgot the thing he wanted most from you. Tears welled in his eyes, and for a second, you thought about breaking the arrangement and asking if he wanted his money back, but Ten took your hand and started leading you out into the hallway.

“We can do the comfort blanket next week,” he said. “This week, we’ll do something else.”

Briefly, he showed you the man he was when you weren’t there. He was straightened up and assertive, his eyes more disobedient. It was rare that you were privy to how he was when you weren’t there, but it was always refreshing that somewhere underneath it all, there was something you liked to think of as a friend.

Ten brought you to a room with only a bed in the middle of it. An island of sadness is what you always thought of it. You remembered when you had found him there sprawled on his stomach, his puckered, wet asshole waiting for you to fuck it. You did as he asked, the money too good to turn him down.

Ten waited for you to get on the bed by yourself. Before you did, you made sure no hair was peaking out of your ball cap before you stretched your body across the sheets. Ten climbed in and tucked himself into the side of your body. He moved down so that his cheek was pressed against your stomach.

“Tell me you love me,” he said. “And that you’ll never leave me.”

You let your fingers smooth his hair. “I love you, Kitten, and I’m never going to leave you.”

You fell asleep on the car ride home, the sound of thunder waking you up just a stop away from Lucas’ apartment. You groaned because, for once, your sleep was dreamless. It was too good of a thing to wake up from.

“Drop me off at the corner,” you said. “I don’t want anyone to see me.”

You had ditched the clothes at Ten’s place and changed back into your pantsuit, but you had hat head and felt like your body had been run over by a truck. You cuddled with Ten for six hours in the same position, your body aching more than his was when he was chained up. You cracked your neck and got ready to jump out of the car as soon as it stopped, just in case someone in the neighborhood was nosy enough to tell Lucas.

“Thank you.” you said for the second time that day.

“See you next week.”

“Yeah.” you sighed.

You got out and walked the last block to his apartment. The duffel was in your hands, but it was empty. If Lucas asked, it was once full of office supplies the company let you borrow that you needed to return. He would buy into the lie.

You let yourself into the darkness, removed your shoes like you were a zombie, and thought about collapsing right on the floor. It wasn’t even that late, but there was something about being deceiving that sucked the life out of you. Deciding against it, you walked your way to the bedroom and flipped on the light.

After you usually left Ten’s, you felt too soft to the touch. Some nights, you cried the whole car ride, missing something you didn’t know what you were missing. Often, you would climb into Lucas’ arms and make the most passionate love to him. You just needed to be near him, to make sure it was him who would never leave you.

Everything looked the same as you had left it, only Lucas’ gym clothes were on the floor and one of his drawers was half hanging open. You went over to it and stuffed his shirts down so it would close properly. Your fingers lingered on the soft fabric. You brought his shirt up to your nose and buried your face in it, inhaling deeply. When you went to put it back, your hand knocked into a small jewelry box.

Uh-oh.

You took the box out and opened it. A diamond ring sat nestled in black velvet, the name of the jewelry shop printed in silver script on the lid. Feeling dizzy, you snapped the lid shut and shoved it back where it was.

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val-aquenta · 3 years

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Here folks. Take an impromptu Mace centric fic as a token of my affections xD

Here on ao3

1. It takes 14 seconds to fall from the Chancellor’s office to the ground. Mace counts them slowly. Almost a meditation. Each second stretches for eternity, each centimetre passing with an agonizingly slow speed. Mace blinks and even that feels like it takes forever. Mace feels, well he really can’t feel his hand. His wrist, however, is another matter entirely. It throbs and throbs and does not stop. He supposes that soon he won’t have to worry about it.

2. Mace has time to feel betrayed. Feel the sting of anger and hurt for a moment before he is occupied by other things. He has known of a shatterpoint poised around Anakin, precariously on the point of breaking at any point. He had hoped that when it broke, the balance would be restored, but now… well the rise of the Sith is hardly balance. There is a moment of this anger, that Anakin could not have chosen better, did not deem balance important, but within moments it leaves him. He can do precious little now, weakened as he is, to stop his fall. He can only think about what he is about to leave.

3. He wonders how Depa is. Alone in the darkness of the world, struggling with her padawan, the newest member of their lineage. He wonders how young Caleb is. Whether the clones have befriended him, whether he has seen some interesting animal or tradition that he would have shared over tea next they met. He wishes, oh how he wishes, that he could see them one last time, could whisper his farewell to them, could press against their essence in the Force and feel them, feel his family, his daughter and her son.

4. Mace feels something twang, some kind of resignation from up above, from the office he has just been thrown out of. The dark, cold, oppressive feeling suffocated the surroundings. Young Skywalker, he realises, is truly stepping for the dark. He feels pain because that is where the path will end. With Anakin and all of Anakin’s friends in pain. The shatterpoint that has hovered over Anakin for all the man’s life breaks and shatters with an intensity he has only felt a few times before. Of course, it would be Anakin that aggravates the pain of his death in such a manner, he sardonically notes. However, the loneliness, the fear, the pain, and the resignation is painful to feel. Part of Mace feels bad for Anakin considering the path that he will walk on guarantees pain. He hopes that Anakin will turn from this path, but already he feels the strings of fate being drawn together as though this inevitability has been years in the making and is finally culminating in the man's fall.

5. The Force is dark. It has been darkening throughout the war, and even darkening before that. Slowly, but surely, using the Force to sense things had become akin to wading in a swamp through fog with nothing to provide light. True darkness had hidden within the despair, anger, and hate of the general populace, tired of the galactic war that sucked up resources. The war machine, fueled by uncaring individuals who had sought profit had pushed and pushed and pushed until it had taken up every thought. Until classrooms became war meeting rooms, and until the mosaics and gentle art of the Temple were chipped and left in disrepair as it simply became too expensive to keep clean and intact.

6. There is regret he feels for not having noticed what Palpatine was, what the man was capable of. He has never truly liked Palpatine. The man was a slimy politician like many others who somehow managed to put off a kind font for all his friends. The man has never done something like that for Mace, and Mace has always found the act somewhat manipulative. He spares an idle thought, wishing that the Zillo beast had somehow succeeded in eating the Sith. As a Jedi, he probably shouldn’t entertain such thoughts, but Palpatine is a sith lord who has orchestrated a galactic war. He hopes the Force will cut him some slack.

7. Obi-Wan. His friend. What devastation the man will feel. He has lost his Grandmaster to the clutches of the dark, lost his own Master to a Sith monster from his nightmares, lost his Grandpadawan to the greedy clutches of the Senate and the war, and now he will lose his own Padawan to the darkness. He wishes he could comfort his friend the way he had done after Qui-Gon’s death. Mace hopes his death will not hurt so much, but he knows Obi-Wan takes it very personally when someone he loves dies. He… he wishes he could also meet with Obi-Wan, wishes he could bring some joy, some calm, something positive to the man who will no doubt feel the most devastating feeling of loss when he realises his family has torn itself apart, has hurt each other in such a horrid way.

8. The Jedi in the Temple. There are so few, most of the older ones scattered throughout the galaxy, but he fears for the younger ones. With Anakin, himself, Kit, Saesee, and Agen gone, most of the defences in the Temple are gone. Now only the youngest of padawans, the younglings and the oldest members of their order remain. He knows, feels it in his bones, that the Temple will be attacked. It is impossible for Palpatine not to have planned something ensuring the death of his family. He hopes that the younglings might escape, that the few Knights might keep those younger safe, that the recovering Jedi in the healing rooms escape. However, Mace has always been logical. The best he can probably hope for is a quick painless death for the members of his family, one with as little pain as possible. Knowing Palpatine, the man who gladly played two sides of a galactic war, he knows that it won’t be so. His family will suffer more than just a quick death, they will suffer and he… he finds he hates the idea of it. What he would give to save them. He would die for them. Would take all their pain to save them. His family, the warmth he has always known will disappear, this he knows.

9. His lightsaber is falling too. Ahead of him. The crystal which has been by his side always is mourning with him, feeling the and echoing his betrayal, winking brightly just like he is before Mace dies. One hand stretches out and calls the blade to him. If he was to feel one last thing in his life, his lightsaber and the warmth from it would be high there. His intact hand grasps the blade and clutches it close, looking for that warmth, that light that he has had by his side since his childhood. The crystal hums on his level, reflecting joy at being united with him, sadness at the coming doom. His faithful friend has been by his side through many dangers but now is the end. He recalls the first time he picked it up, surrounded by darkness and cold and ice the crystal had sat, glowing and colourless. The blade had been purple, much to the surprise and delight of both himself and his family. Sure, he had tweaked the hilt as he had grown, but the crystal had remained the same. He reached out for it and let its calm force envelop him one last time, letting the light peace wash over him moments before his death.

10. Time seems to blur. He sees the past melding with the present. The future seems to push back and reaches him in strange visions, flickers across his vision. There are ghost feelings of something entirely alien drifting across his mind. The future, he realises with a quiet gasp, reaching back and showing him small flickers of it. Mace accepts it quietly. He accepts the flickers of death, destruction, and terrible darkness as they fall across his vision. He sees the lone figures of light as they leap across an indifferent galaxy, attempting to fight the suffocating darkness. There is a shadow of a togruta, old and unfamiliar with blades of pure light against one red and black shadow flickering across his vision, followed by a robes figure facing off a dark machine, a strange imprint of betrayal and sadness. Another shadow of green and red blades against each other followed by a sky of flickering light, illuminated by lightning. More and more visions flicker across his vision and finally a balance. He feels relief keenly as the light stretches past the few points it was reduced to. In the end, balance will prevail, he knows, and he rests easy with that knowledge.

11. His clones, he wonders, will be sad when they find out he is dead. He has somehow gained their respect and admiration. With that, as he and his colleagues had quickly found, came a need front he clones to keep them safe. Through many battles, Ponds watched his back, offered advice, and shared his pain. In turn, he has done the same, but it always feels like it is not enough. For all that he loves his troops, he can not save them from the Republic’s scorn and the Senate’s indifference. He has tried to save them, tried to keep the other military leaders from recklessly using the clones as a battering ram against the Separatists, disregarding the lives they will lose, but still he ends up with dead men. Ponds. He wishes… something. He wishes he could have said goodbye. Told him he wished he could have done more, could have saved more men. But, the time for that has passed and he cannot save them or comfort them. He only hopes that they will be safe and healthy and happy in the wake of his death. That someone will step up to take care of them.

12. His family… the Jedi… He can feel them dying. Something is… something is killing them. Someone is killing them. He has failed. Failed to protect them. Failed to save them. Their pain rips through the Force as they are killed, betrayal, pain, and anguish suffocating the Force. No! He feels his bonds, some of which have been in place since childhood, be ripped mercilessly from him. Depa’s still glows bright, alive, but there is something painful growing around her. It feels as though the end is coming soon, both for him but also for her. Lights flicker and are put out mercilessly. From the old elder Jedi who had been a mentor in the past to the young Rodian child he had comforted two weeks ago. They burn brightly, like stars, and then disappear, cementing darkness in the universe.

13. Mace Windu, moments before his death, sees something. He’s always seen things. Breaking points in people, situations, and things. He’s grown up with them. Now, in the seconds before he hits the ground at breakneck speed, he sees something different. An impossible possibility. The culmination of a billion small things resulting in the perfect world. So out of reach, so… impossible. It flashes for just a moment, blinking for an eternity. He observes it, observes the choices, observes the outcomes, the unfolding of events. It is almost as though he experiences it, almost like he lives through it, but not quite. This ‘what if,’ this best-case scenario, is an imagination. Nothing he can do will bring it to truth, and yet still Mace wishes.

14. Fourteen seconds. Mace Windu fell from a window fourteen seconds ago. For fourteen seconds he has fallen down the side of the building. Now, he hits the ground as darkness swallows the universe. It seems almost fitting that he would die the moment the Jedi are about to die and the universe is about to be swallowed by darkness. Mace closes his eyes a fraction of a second before he hits the ground at breakneck speed, the rapid speed of descent slowing abruptly in a split second. With the end of his fall, Mace Windu's life ends too.

15. Mace wakes in the light which he has chosen. The light which he has always chosen and which he will always choose. The dark of the world is behind him. Ahead, only light, warmth, and happiness remains. Each step into the warmth, leaving the dark world he’s lived in, is like coming home. He takes each step until he isn’t Mace anymore, not really. He is the light, he is the Force. Mace sighs and finally, he releases himself into the Force, into home. A thousand troubles, hundreds of sleepless, millions of deaths, countless memories of pain fade away until Mace is unburdened. Mace breathes in slowly, meditatively, and he steps into the light. As darkness falls, Mace steps into the light. And so ends Mace Windu.

#star wars fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #mace windu #mace windu appreciation #obi wan kenobi #depa billaba #pro jedi #jedi appreciation #pro jedi fic #duna writes

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omiscurls · 3 years

Text

and behind us, a white sail

So! the link to this song is — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9un0ZU8HZO8

Let me explain first, though. It's a very old polish song that inspired me to write this fic (and thank my polish heritage, that as well)

Another note: I know Ushi played in Schweiden Adlers before he transfered to Orzeł Warszawa, but I changed that around for the polish team to come in first and Adlers second, so the timeline of this fic wouldn't get too long. Sorry!

the songs used later on in this are — "Stacja Warszawa" and "A wszystko to, bo ciebie kocham" I don't recommend the second one, but the first is really beautiful!

the ship for today is ushiten (ushijima wakatoshi x tendou satori) and it's going to be a little angsty this time.

word count: 14 519

summary quote: "hearing you say dumb shit like that really makes me hope you'll be looking at the same moon as me every evening"

and let's go!

Ever since he was little, Ushijima Wakatoshi had a bright future just waiting for him to explore it and become great. Since that moment his dad tossed a volleyball at him for the first time, his path was already going up a hill, up to greatness.

But, like they say, with every blessing there comes a curse. Due to his parents' early divorce, and his father, and only friend, moving overseas, he became very closed off and silent, keeping all his emotions to himself, often explaining that "Mother doesn't like him crying", or "Mother would be angry if he were to jump around in excitement". He often came across as intimidating and scary to his peers, causing him to never have an actual friend to talk to, besides his volleyball, and a father who seemed to be forgetting about him more and more every passing month.

He moved to the US, found another wife, had another son. Had a life without Wakatoshi, who felt left behind and alone, but what could he do, other than become the best he could and remind him that he still existed, or more importantly, still lived.

So he took his father's advice to heart, and searched the best teams he could, to measure up to the best players around, and beat them all, crush them, end them, until there was only him on the podium, weighing the golden medal down in his hand.

His early life was succesful, and all, but most of all, it was lonely. The stage of life where the child should be playing around with his friends and laugh, cry, scream, and be overall dumb, he spent with an emotionless expression.

Looking back, maybe that was what caused all of this...

Of course it wasn't easy for a little kid like him to hold it all in, even though he was naturally a reserved and composed person. Countless times had he came to his mother, tears rolling down his face, but she'd just say "Get over it, Ushijima Wakatoshi", and he'd leave, go to his room, throw himself at the materace and scream into the pillow, until he ran out of breath. Or go to the garden and spike the ball so hard his hand was all bruised the next morning. The more red it was, the less his heart weighed inside his chest.

And so, he'd stop crying to his mother. He got over it. He never understood most of the emotions he was experiencing, but whenever he was feeling funny, that means, other than normally, doesn't matter if it was in a good or bad way, he'd just go and spike, until it was time to go to bed, until his hand was all red and swollen again.

That was of course, until he got a letter, offering him a scholarship for Shiratorizawa Academy Junior High School, a place where he was planning on going anyway, but still, the letter brought up a newfound confidence within him.

He thought he was just going there to become a better player, nothing more, but all of that disappeared on the first day on the new school year. All the first years were standing in a row, listening to the teacher, when suddenly, he felt someone poking him with his elbow. He turned away, suprised, only to see a redheaded boy, with big, huge, he'd even say, eyes, looking at him with a wide grin across his lips.

"I saw you talking to Washijou-sensei before, are you on a volleyball scholarship as well?" he asked.

"Yes." Ushijima replied quietly, looking nervously at the teacher, scared of being caught while talking.

"Cool! You seem really cool, everyone else around seemed boring" the boy laughed loudly, causing Ushijima to look at him, frightened, his eyes wide open. "Oh my, relax, Mr Mature, he's not paying attention to what he's saying, either. Look. Teach! Can I go home?" he added so loudly, even raising his hand, that Ushijma felt the need to catch that hand and put his other one over his lips, so he'd stop talking. But to his suprise, the teacher truly didn't care. "See, Mr Mature?"

"My name is not Mr Mature" he complained, crossing his eyes at his chest.

"What is it then? My name's Tendou Satori, I'm your new friend! I'm assuming you don't have so many of them, do you now, Mr Mature?"

"I'm Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tendou Satori. No, I do not need any friends, I spend most of my time practicing, anyway."

"You do? Oh my, your life must be so sad! It's settled then, you need a friend, 'Toshi. And never call me Tendou Satori again, that's how my father does it, and I hate it."

"Noted, Tendou" Ushijima nodded, feeling something drilling through his stomach, as if he ate something bad. He wanted to smile, but didn't know why, and that scared him. Maybe it was the nickname? Wasn't it weird for that boy to shorten his first name like that two minutes after meeting him? Maybe it was. Okay, the unusual feeling must've been shame then. He immediately looked away, focusing back at what the teacher was saying.

Truth be told, Tendou was scared to say all of that. It was in fact him who had no friends and needed one, and he didn't even know why, but one look into the other thirteen-year-old's eyes was more than enough for him to feel safe, and secure, at the same time causing him to feel kind of nervous, as if...

...someone was drilling through his stomach.

And since them, him, and the first year setter, Semi Eita, would be the only people Ushijima would ever talk to. He felt some weird sort of pride whenever he'd notice Tendou looking at his spike with dreamy eyes, or telling him straight up he admired him. He never knew how to react, so he'd just ignore him, but deep down, it made him feel like on that first day again.

Something drilled through his stomach.

He'd even share a room with Tendou in the dormitory. At first it was weird, at least that's what Tendou said, because they'd never talk, due to Ushijima's tight sleeping schedule, but that stage was over after their very first practice match.

The opponent was Kiitagawa Daichi Junior High School, and their setter was a first year as well.

Ushijima was lying on his bottom bunk, eyes staring blankly into Tendou's materace above him.

"Toshi, are you obsessed with the guy, or something?" the redhead sighed, turning off the light.

"With who, Oikawa-san?"

"Yeah, unless I missed someone else who you were talking about all evening?"

"I'm not obsessed. I just don't understand how someone so talented joined such a weak school." Ushijima explained. Tendou knew it was geniuine. One of the few things he learned about his friend was that he truly didn't understand some mechanisms of poeple's psyche, not even mentioning the whole concept of friendship. And it was damn, bland obvious that Oikawa-san went there for his friend, the wing spiker.

"Seijoh isn't a weak school, Toshi"

"But Shiratorizawa is better. He should've come to Shiratorizawa."

Now, Tendou didn't know why, but that sort of hurted him. He had Semi at Shiratorizawa, Semi wasn't nearly as good as Oikawa, but he was theirs. He had HIM here, his never failing blocker, why would he want anything else?

He suddenly wished he was a setter, so he could be the one thing Wakatoshi needed.

"Maybe, maybe not. It's his life, not yours, Toshi"

And that was the first one of the countless times Ushijima Wakatoshi had broken Tendou Satori's fragile heart.

Nevertheless, he dangled his arm from the top bunk, so Wakatoshi would notice it.

"What're you doing?"

"Inviting you over"

"We live in the same room"

"Inviting you to my bunk" he explained, realizing he forgot how clueless Ushijima can get. The other boy eventually climbed the ladder and sat beside him.

"It's already time to sleep, Tendou" he said, but was cut off by skinny, light hands embracing him. He was shaken, not knowing how to react. "W-what are you doing?"

"You seemed upset. If your friend is upset, you hug them" Tendou whispered, his cheek pressed against Wakatoshi's.

After that, the bigger boy was silent for a long while, not moving at all, so Tendou asked if he was okay.

"I've just— Nobody has hugged me in a very, very long time" he explained, noticing the weird feeling in his gut increased, making him almost nauseated.

Tendou pulled back suddenly.

"Really? That's really sad, Wakatoshi. Was it weird, though?" his big eyes were glossy, and the moon shining outside the window was reflecting in them. Ushijima noticed that his eyes were really pretty like that, the hazel colour contrasting with the grey moon he'd see in the glossy coat on them.

"Yes." he responded, and Tendou felt that gut feeling turn into something more painful, until the boy added "Could you do it again?"

"Of course" he smiled, sitting closer to Wakatoshi and wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. He pressed his face into the little dump between the boy's shoulder and neck, inhaling the slight scent of the washing liquid used to wash his pijamas.

"Should I?" he started to ask awkwardly, so Satori cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah you should" he mumbled into his skin, and soon after felt the strong arms wrap themseves around his thin waist.

Wakatoshi's heart started to race at once, him not knowing the reason. He felt complete, holding someone like that. Or did he feel complete holding TENDOU like that? That riddle was impossible for his brain to solve, so he let it slight, enjoying the funny warm feeling in his chest. Was this how having friends felt? Maybe it wasn't so bad.

They'd sit there like that, both not knowing whether it was weird, or comforting, or both, or neither, but they didn't pull back.

"We should really sleep" Tendou finally said, but got no response, so he slowly broke off the embrace, noticing how Ushijima's head started to fall without the support of his shoulders. "Oh, unless you're already sleeping" he laughed quietly "I guess you'd be all grumpy if I woke you up now. Nighty night then, Toshi" he whispered, putting the boy's body in his sheets, and climbing down to lay in his friend's bunk instead.

The weird drilling stopped, he thought. He only felt warmth flooding his heart right then.

It never happened again, though.

three years later

Even someone as dense as Wakatoshi Ushijima would get used to a person after living with them for three whole years. It was now the last days of Junior High, and him and Tendou already signed the papers to attend Shiratorizawa Academy's High School after summer break, leaving their signatures on the "continue living with your roommate" as well.

Wakatoshi was coming back to their said room after evening practice, tired as ever, his legs barely working.

"Ushijima-kun, are you and Tendou playing cards with us today?" he heard Semi at the other end of the hall.

"I'll ask him, but if he was too sick to go to practice, then I'm not sure if he'll be willing to do that, Semi" he explained, and went inside his room after noticing the other boy nod. "Tendou, Semi is asking—" he stopped when he heard sobs coming from the top bunk. "Tendou?"

Then the sobs stopped. Ushijima's drilling feeling came back stronger as ever, when he noticed Tendou's delicate face looking at him from above, his eyes red and puffy, and cheeks wet, but damn, he thought, why does he suddenly look so different?

He didn't know what it was, but it was as if he was reading an interesting novel and he didn't want to look away from it even for a second, not to miss any detail of the story. It was the same exact feeling.

"Wakatoshi" he stated, rolling back closer to the wall, so he wouldn't have to face his friend.

"Did something happen to you, Tendou?" Wakatoshi asked. He knew that Tendou wasn't really the person to cry very often, he always lifted up other people's spirits with his never ending happiness and weird sense of humour.

"No" the boy mumbled, but turned around when he felt movement on the ladder leading to his bed. "What're you doing?" he asked, freaked out.

"I'm coming over to see you" he stated "Because you're upset, and friends need a hug when they're upset"

"How do you know I'm upset?"

"Please, Satori, I might be clueless, as you often describe it, but I'm not dumb"

That made him laugh, and although Ushijima didn't know why, it somehow made him happy.

He then proceeded to hug his best friend, feeling his entire body shake, as he held his waist, and his shirt becoming more wet every passing second.

"Why are you crying?" he asked so straightforwardly and honestly, it almost pissed Tendou off.

"Well, Ushijima, seems like the only thing k-keeping me in this country is f-fading away" he mumbled, holding onto the material of Wakatoshi's sweatshirt.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you say something uncomfortable, but I don't seem to understand" he was feeling very uneasy admitting that, but the drilling feeling in his stomach wasn't going away, and he felt it in his gut that he had to do SOMETHING about Tendou's mood, because it was making him feel bad as well. He didn't know how, but these were the facts.

He laughed again.

"See, Toshi, you've met my little sister. She's tiny, she's cute, and she adores chocolate. Those are the three ways to describe her the best. She's the apple of my eye, and well, she has me wrapped around her finger, I'd do anything to make her happy."

A string of jealousy was tying itself around Ushijima's heart. He never had that, and he suddenly wished someone would talk about him like that, too. He'd never admit it, but he couldn't help that feeling.

"But the fourth way to describe her, well, she's also... terribly ill, Wakatoshi. For a year now she can't eat any candy, her beloved chocolate included, due to her condition, and I hate how depressed that makes her, but today, today my mom has informed me it got worse. I— no, I don't want to keep talking, I'm sorry" he said, pulling away from his friend, but he catched his arm before he could do that.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Satori. Altough, I don't think I know what to say."

I wish I were you, he thought, then I would know exactly how to cheer you up. And I hate seeing you like this.

"Is there anything we could do to help?"

Satori lifted his eyes, suddenly lighting up. Did he just use the word we?

"I wish" he responded, shaking his head "But they moved her to an intensive care hospital in Tokyo, without letting me talk to her first. Besides, she's sleeping constantly."

"That's actually rude of your parents"

"No, no it's not, she needed to be taken there right away, or else her life would be on the line. I might be a selfish person, Wakatoshi, but I'm not letting it affect my precious cinnamon roll in any way"

"Cinnamon roll?" he asked, visibly confused, making Tendou giggle again.

"It's how you call a person you love, who is too precious for this fucked up world that we're living in" he explained.

"Oh, okay" he nodded, then sitting silently for a while. "Tendou? How would you like it if we went out to grab chocolate ice-cream? You love them, as well, right?"

Satori's eyes lit up even more.

"How on earth did you remember that? Also, it's past bedtime, we can't do that" he complained.

"I pay attention to details. And wasn't that you who told me that rules have to be broken sometimes?" Wakatoshi grinned, almost making Tendou loose it.

"I might actually scream right now"

"No don't, it will give us away, are you stupid, Tendou?" Ushijima responded, completely serious.

Tendou bursted out laughing.

"I love how dumb you are, Toshi" he said, not even paying attention to his words.

I love watching you laugh, the other boy thought, but didn't say it.

His mother always told him to go away when he told her he loved her. He didn't want Tendou to go away as well.

They sneaked out that night, it was obviously only to go to the nearest convinience store, which was just outside the campus, but still, it made Ushijima super nervous, and Tendou, on the other hand, was amused.

They sat beside the store, their backs against the wall, eating chocolate ice cream, despite it being winter, and the temperature below zero, they were freezing in only their hoodies, but the magic of the moment somehow prevented them from going back to their room.

"What did you mean when you said she is the only thing that keeps you in this country?" Ushijima asked, out of the blue.

Tendou was too suprised to respond, at first.

"Well, I plan on leaving Japan some day, I'd like to study abroad, maybe in France, and do something romantic for a living, you know? Maybe I'll meet an actress and have a fling, maybe not, that doesn't concern me at all, but I'll have a little flat just in the right distance from the city centre in Paris, I'll be living upstairs from some kind of an alcoholic, or another addict, and I'll sit by my window every evening, watching the moon rise, shouting at the kids in love on the street to piss off and go home already" he laughed.

This made Ushijima really sad, and he didn't know why. Of course Tendou had plans, what was he assuming before he heard that? That he was some kind of a sidekick designed just for him, that was going to stay by his side forever?

Don't tell him you're sad, don't do it, he's going to be angry, just like mom, he's going to flip out, and curse at you, and leave you, and you'll be alone again.

Never once in the past three years had Ushijima wanted to spike a ball so bad, not even once. Talking to Tendou was becoming his new copying mechanism, but there he was, all alone with his emotions, impossible to understand. He decided to clench his fist as hard as he could, so he wouldn't burst out complaining about how he doesn't want Tendou to leave.

Little did he know, it was percisely what Satori needed to hear right then.

"How do you know you're going to be living upstairs from an alcoholic?" he only asked, making Tendou shake his head in disbelief.

"Oh, Ushi, hearing you say dumb shit like that really makes me hope you'll be looking at the same moon as me every evening" he whispered, just loudly enough for the boy to hear it. His heart rate went up, and somehow his sadness started to fade away.

Only then did he realize how hard he was pinching his nails into his skin, so he eventually let go, sighing with relief.

"I will" he added, just as silently, and stared into the starry sky.

Altough I wish we'd be looking at it together, they both thought.

Tendou was jumping in excitement, beside Ushijima, when the third years stood around them, ready to declare who the next captain was going to be.

"I'm going to break off the tradition by doing this" said the ruling captain, thus resigning from his position "But your next captain will be starting his second year, not third."

A gasp of suprise went through the crowd, but everybody anticipated it.

"Ushijima Wakatoshi. I hereby resign from my position, leaving the team in your hands. Lead them to Shiratorizawa's next big victory, please" he said, bowing slightly. Ushijima bowed as well.

"Thank you, captain. I'll do my best" he said bluntly, making the older boy sigh, kinda like he was regretting his decision already. A couple of moments have passed, and the graduates left, truly leaving Ushijima in charge.

"Alright, Ushijima-kun, here are the first years promoted to your first squad." Washijou-sensei pointed to group of nervous looking kids. He took a list from his pocket and started reading the surnames out loud.

"Oh my, Toshi, do you remember when he did that with us?" Satori whispered energically right beside his ear.

"Why wouldn't I?"

He noticed a boy staring at him from the Junior High practice. He had black haired, cut into an interesting hairstyle, and a jelous look in his eyes. He intrigued him, and Tendou noticed that, puting, because my oh my, how dared his Wakatoshi not pay attention to his side commentary.

"Shirabu Kenjiro" the coach said, and a shy looking boy stepped out of the crowd, bowing slightly at Ushijima.

"What position do you play in, Shirabu?" Wakatoshi asked, and Tendou knew he ment it to be gentle, but it came out so harsh, the kid looked even more scared.

"Setter" the boy responded. Both Tendou and Ushijima glanced over at Semi, who was obviously pouting.

"Poor Semi-Semi" the redhead laughed, but shutted up after he got poked with an elbow.

"Welcome to Shiratorizawa Academy Team then, Shirabu" the newly elected captain responded, and the blond boy nodded frantically, walking over to them.

"Kawanishi Taichi" Washijou continued.

"Middle blocker, captain" the boy managed to say before Wakatoshi. He was obviously suprised by that, and Tendou had the time of his life laughing at him. That was until the taller boy glanced over at him and said:

"Well, I guess Tendou-san will be happy to guide you through it, Kawanishi"

"How formal, Captain Ushijima" the redhead pouted, looking away from him, and then looking back upon hearing Ushi chuckle.

Was he... satisfied, about making him loose his words?

That little bastard really grew up since they'd first met.

"I look forward to working with you for the next two years. I know you're great at volleyball, if Sensei says so, then I guess the only thing I can say to you is, give it your best. That's what this school is all about"

"That's the least inspiring speach I've ever heard in my entire life" Tendou laughed, but Ushijima didn't seem to care.

Later that evening he informed him that his friend at Seijoh texted him that Oikawa was also elected captain.

"Great, I'd elect him, too" Ushijima only responded.

Tendou didn't need to know anything else to understand what was happening in his brain by then. You wish he'd be your setter instead of their captain, I know. You wish you had the people skills he has, and my comment about your speech will now keep you awake for half the night. Because, no matter what I do, you feel like you lack that in your life. And I'll never be able to get it for you. Nor the skill, nor Oikawa Tooru, nor could I be the setter you wish you'd have. All I can do is be your friend, I guess, but is that enough for me? What if I want to be more, Wakatoshi?

"Never change, you adorable little dumbass" he only whispered, still scrolling through his phone.

"Why would I?" Ushijima responded, much to Tendou's suprise. Was the whisper louder than anticipated?

He failed to answer that question, because when he glanced over at Ushijima, he was getting ready to go shower, and was right in the middle of taking of his shirt. His back muscles were all worked up, and Tendou came to a sudden realization, which caused him to cover his mouth with one hand and stare at the ceiling.

"So?"

I'm so attracted to you.

"Nothing, it just slipped"

"Oh my god, Shirabu, you're finding context where there's literally no context. They're just best friends! Ushijima is the embodiment of straight! He's as straight as a ruler!" Semi whispered to the younger setter, who was staring at him as if he wanted to kill him.

"Are you blind, Semi? No, truly, do you need glasses? I'm geniuenly asking, cause there might be something seriously wrong with your eyes if you can't even see something as OBVIOUS as this! Look at Tendou, just look! He looks at Ushijima-san like he's his entire world!" Shirabu pointed to the redhead older blocker, but Eita just shook his head, violently grasping the younger boy's hand and pulling it back down.

"You're obvious Shirabu, stop or Tendou will hear you. And speak respectfully about him, his your senpai" he added, scolding the setter. He enjoyed doing that, it made him feel a little bit more important, after having his authority undermined by Washijou-sensei promoting Shirabu to the first squad.

"Is any of you going to start tossing to the spikers, or did you come to practice to chat?" they heard a deep voice behind them, their eyes going wide as they turned around slowly to face their captain.

"Um—" Semi tried to explain himself, but Shirabu beat him to it, bowing to Wakatoshi.

"We're sorry captain, we're on it"

Ushijima looked at him with slight suprise, although, if Semi didn't know him for five years, he wouldn't have guessed it was suprise.

"I was just asking" he said, his voice as steady and still as normally, and Eita almost found it funny, how Shirabu couldn't seem to get the hang of understanding Ushijima's emotions.

The kid just ran towards the net, and Semi followed him, not wanting to loose to the little first year again. They started tossing to various spikers, and something ached inside of Semi's chest when he noticed Wakatoshi jumping to hit Shirabu's toss, then nodding to him, letting him know it was a good one. It had been some time then since the last practice Ushijima spiked one of his tosses.

"Alright, this is getting boring" The captain said, going over to his water bottle. "Let's have a match, three on three" he suggested, noticing the team already forming a row in front of him. "Shirabu, Semi, choose your teams"

The boys started to choose, with one condition, that Ushijima and Tendou cannot be on one team, since the other one wouldn't get a single point that way. Satori ended up being with Shirabu and Leon, and Ushijima with Semi and Yunohama. It was all going really well, the match was pretty intense, considering there were to awesome spikers playing in each of the teams.

"One step ahead of you, Toshi!" Tendou laughed, falling to his knees after succesfully blocking Ushijima.

"Are you okay, though?" the boy asked, noticing how Satori was holding his delicate wrists, biting his lower lip.

"Every day when I get to block you is a day when I'm a thousand times more than okay" he only said, getting back up. Wakatoshi noticed that his friend was in a really great mood that day, smiling constantly, making fun of everyone around him, jumping in excitement every now and then. It was kind of cute.

"Damn, Tendou, besides seeming like one, you really are a monster at blocking, as well" Leon said, not really minding his words, walking over to drink some water. Tendou's eyes widened, looking at the boy with disgust, shock not letting him utter a word. He glanced over at Wakatoshi, who didn't seem to mind the comment. Everyone around was kind of concerned, but not really, reserved from the situation.

Tendou stopped counting which broken heart that was, but well, the number was increasing.

"Well then, Leon" he said bitterly "I guess you're lucky you're not the hero, because then you'd be facing me, instead of hiding behind my back all the time" his hands quivered, and a shiver ran down his spine, as he began walking out of the gym.

"Tendou?" Ushijima shouted after him, visibly confused, but Tendou didn't care enough to stop. What was he thinking, that he'd defend him? That clueless little brain child didn't even understand how much was wrong with that comment, using the nickname his opponents would give Tendou for years, as a form of, he didn't even know, praise? Surely Leon didn't mean it, but still, he didn't care. It hurted him, more than it should, and he already felt the shocked looks on his back.

He acted like a drama queen, but so what.

"I'm gonna grab some bandages from the infirmary, Ushijima. My fingers hurt" he said coldly, and using his surname, which he didn't do very often.

Wakatoshi was staring at the door Tendou shutted behind him, the team standing silently around him.

"Should I go with him, captain?" Shirabu asked, but he shook his head "no" in response.

"He'll be fine on his own. Keep practicing"

Ushijima really wanted to believe that, but he noticed the emotionless expression on his best friend's face, and was concerned himself. He couldn't seem to focus for the rest of practice, which was unusual for him.

"Is Tendou-san coming back?" they kept asking him, and it pissed him off more every time, but he'd only spike harder, the rest of the team shocked as the ball bouncing back from the floor and going towards the stands with insane speed. Nobody even tried to recieve them, because they all cherished their fingers and arms to much to injure them like that.

It wasn't Tendou that Wakatoshi was angry at, it wasn't Leon, even, it was himself. The first one of many times his reserved nature seemed to be his enemy, not friend. He failed to help Tendou, and he understood his fault, which made it a thousand times worse.

After the practice had ended, Satori wasn't in their room.

"Tendou? Are you there?" Wakatoshi asked, but even after checking the top bunk, there was no place in the tiny room left for his friend to hide in. He checked the bathroom, but still, no sign of the redhead. He checked the infirmary, he checked every opened classroom, the gym, every locker room, bathroom, but he was nowhere to be found.

He knocked on Semi's door.

"Ushi? What's up?" the boy asked, suprised, if Ushijima wanted something he could've asked literally fifteen minutes earlier, after practice.

"Is Tendou with you?" he heard, his team captain's voice shaking just a little bit, his hands clenched in fists.

"No, I'm afraid not. Isn't he in your room?"

Well, if I'm asking, then he surely fucking isn't, you idiot.

"No."

"Well, call him then" Semi stated, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed at chest.

He nodded and did just that, three times, in fact, but there was no response.

"Wait up" Eita said, disappearing into his room, and coming back, wearing his Shiratorizawa hoodie "Let's search up together, we'll find him sooner"

Wakatoshi agreed, secretly appreciating the help. He didn't go back for his hoodie, there was no time for that, so he just left in his T-shirt.

"Alright, where could he go?" Semi asked, when they left Shiratorizawa's gates. Ushijima had no idea at first, Miyagi wasn't such a small city, and Tendou, with his personality, could even be out of town by now. He could go to Tokyo to see his sister, Wakatoshi thought, but he remembered they had a test the next morning, and Tendou was a foreign languages ace among their year, so he definitely wouldn't miss it.

No, don't think what you'd do. Satori has different priorities than you.

"Honestly, anywhere." he responded. Eita was shocked Wakatoshi used such an unofficial figure of speech, but he didn't complain, his teammmate was stressed, after all.

"Aight, let's split up then. You'll go to all his favorite places, and I'll check everywhere near the school. But keep your phone ring at high volume, so we wouldn't miss each other's calls.

Ushijima nodded and left. Where could he want to go, alone, in the dark? Only after a couple of minutes of walking had he felt his hands hurt, and noticed the bloody marks on the inside of his hands. He was really stressed. Then, a sudden memory hit him, of Tendou leading him to the cliffs, just next to the forest in Miyagi, to take a walk when he was stressing about their first national championship. He started running there, landscape around him blending into one mix, as he was speeding past the bridge, the houses, bus stops, stores, and eventually the trees. He only stopped once he felt railings forbidding people to jump into the wavy sea below. He looked around him.

"Tendou?" he shouted, but there was no response. He started walking around, looking behind every tree, and at every bench.

"Satori, come on, if you're there, then come out already. Let's go home" he sighed, his worriness building up. Then he remembered, his friend didn't like to sit where everyone else used to, he like to jump over the fence and sit on one of the rocks, often teasing him he was going to fall.

The drilling feeling in his stomach seemed not to let him straighten up, and he had to force his insides to stay still, while ha quickly glanced at the sea and rocks below him, but, to his relief, there was no sight of Tendou there, as well.

He decided to check somewhere else, and raced out of the forest. He was so caught up in searching, his mind was already going to the darkest scenarios, and he didn't even noticed when he bumped into someone.

"Ushiwaka-chan?" he heard a soft, yet prideful voice in front of him, and shook his head before seeing Tooru Oikawa, in the flash.

"Oikawa." he responded "What're you doing here? I don't have time for whatever salty comment you have up your sleeve right now." Upon hearing that, the brown haired boy's eyebrows rose in suprise.

"Well, Ushiwaka, I live here. Can't I enter my house in peace? Plus, I don't have any. Are you looking for Mr Redhead?" he asked, a concerned look in his eyes. Ushijima was honestly shocked. Why would he care? He hated them both.

Oh, right, they were near Seijoh. It was possible for Oikawa to live here. Wakatoshi noticed AobaJohsai's captain didn't look so good himself, but he was not the one to listen to his problems. He had his own problem he needed to solve right away.

"Yes, and I'm afraid I don't have a second to waste."

"Well, he was on my bus stop. I only asked because it seemed unusual for any of you to be here. He was heading for the city centre."

City centre? Now, thanks to his worst enemy, Wakatoshi had an idea of where Tendou was, and he was stupid not to think of that earlier.

"Thanks, Oikawa" he said, staring blankly at the bus stop, around three hundred metres down the street.

"No problem, I guess. Say hi to him from me, he's the only one of you idiots that I don't hate" he said, closing the fence gate behind him, and walking towards his house's door, not even looking at him anymore.

"Alright" Ushijima responded, only half listening to what Tooru was saying.

As he was waiting for the same bus Tendou was, only a couple of minutes earlier, he still tried to get in touch with him.

Wakatoshi Ushijima, 20:44

Please, Tendou, respond

Wakatoshi Ushijima 20:46

I'm sorry for what Leon had said. Come back so we can talk.

There was no sign from the other boy, the text weren't even on delievered, only on sent.

He was so up in his thoughts, he barely noticed it was already his stop to get off on. He raced to the shop he had in mind, and noticed the lady behind the counter already cleaning the place up. He still had half an hour before they'd close.

He entered, and the small bell above the door rang. The lady looked up, and smiled gently at a possible new customer.

Wakatoshi looked around him, but to his suprise, Tendou wasn't there. He walked up to the counter.

"Hello, sir, what can I get you today?" the lady said, smiling politely.

"Hello, was a boy, around my height, with red hair here before me?" he asked directly, and she blinked at the sincerity of his request.

"I'm afraid not, I haven't seen anyone like that." she answered apologetically.

At that point, Ushijima honestly felt like crying. How, how on earth wasn't he anywhere? Where did he go? Did he really know him that little?

He noticed Tendou's favorite cookies still on the counter. They were, of course, the chocolate ones, with spots of white chocolate.

"Can I have ten of these?" he sighed, pointing to the sweets. The lady nodded, handed the bag over to the boy, and received the money.

"Goodnight, miss" he said upon leaving, and she smiled again, waving at him.

How could she be smiling? How could anyone possibly be smiling, when Tendou was missing? And on top of that, it was partly Ushijima's fault?

He felt dizzy from all the emotions hiding behind his bland face. There was no one around, and he decided to walk back to Shiratorizawa, instead of taking a bus. He called Tendou again, and even left a voicemail.

"Tendou Satori. Wherever you are, please, come back, you're making us all worried. You can't just—" and at that, he ended the call, noticing his voice break, for the first time in forever. "You can't just leave like that and not say anything, you idiot" he whispered to himself, feeling a gulp in his throat.

He leaned against the shop's wall, hitting it with his fist. It hurted slightly, but didn't help.

"Tendou!" he screamed "Are you there?" he waited a good minute, wanting a response desperately, but nobody showed up.

His phone rang, it was Semi.

"Found him yet?"

"No"

"He's not here, either. We need to head back though, Ushi, or we'll get detention" Semi stated, and Ushijima was honestly pissed at how laid back he sounded. But he knew the setter was right. "Do you want to report his missing to the principal's office?" he then asked.

Right. Right, this was a serious issue. On one hand, if they reported it, the principal could start an official search, and Tendou would be home in no time, but on the other, they'd probably expell him, and that couldn't happen. Ushijima wouldn't let it.

"No." he only said, and hang up.

It was a long walk back to Shiratorizawa, and Wakatoshi hated every second of it. He was coming back to an empty room, with no Tendou in it, without any clue about where he could be now, wether he was safe or not, anything.

He didn't even try to sneak through so the cameras wouldn't catch him. He didn't care if he'd get detention or not. That wasn't important at all.

He slided his card through the lock of his door, and was welcomed by the cold room, which would be just right since he didn't have the time to turn on the radiator.

"Tendou...?" he whispered, somehow hoping he'd be there, even though he had eyes on his entry card, still laying on the table, since Wakatoshi was the one to lock the door before practice.

He noticed all of Satori's stuff still there. His phone, with no battery, his wallet, his ID, everything. Like he vanished.

Too tired to even take his clothes of, he climbed to the top bunk, and buried his face in Tendou's pillow, inhaling what was left of the boy's scent. He couldn't fall asleep at all, even though he was too tired to lift his eyelids. How could he sleep in a situation like this?

He realized, he wouldn't be so worried if it was Semi, or Leon, or Shirabu, or anyone else. Of course he'd be concerned, of course he'd search for them, he was their captain and cared for them all, but it wouldn't cause such a pain in his gut. It wouldn't make him want to rip his heart out so he'd stop feeling so painfully lonely and worried.

But they were all his friends, as well. Why was it different with Tendou? Was it because he was his roommate? Maybe, but something was telling him that wasn't the case. The drilling feeling became more and more impossible to ignore as he kept thinking about what he was feeling towards Tendou.

A warm feeling flooded his senses when he thought about his smile, and he instantly got worried when he remembered he was missing. What did that mean?

A new riddle for him to remain unsolved for years to come.

He somehow got through the night without sleeping even for a blink, until it was almost six, hence, the hour he'd get up, when he heard a knock on the door. It was still a night hour at Shiratorizawa's campus and no students were allowed to leave their rooms, so he was very suprised, but mumbled a tired "Coming" and struggled to get out of bed.

He walked up to the door, and opened it, only to see Tendou, his hoodie a bit dirty, and hair in a mess, but a grin on his face.

"Morning, Toshi" he chuckled, upon seeing the truly shocked expression on his best friend's face.

He wanted to get inside, but Ushijima didn't allow it, suddenly pulling him into a tight hug. Satori could barely breathe, but managed to keep laughing.

"What's up, big guy? Why're you suddenly so emotional?" he asked, much to they boy's suprise. He stayed silent. That was weird for Tendou. No matter how angry he could be, he'd never ignore a direct question, because he didn't get the concept of a rhetorical one. That was a lesson Satori learned the hard way a couple of years earlier. "Wakatoshi? You there?"

Still no answer?

That's weird.

"You idiot" he heard a slight whisper, almost inaudiable. "You fucking idiot"

That was officially the first time ever for Tendou to hear Ushijima use a swear word.

He suddenly felt something dropping on his neck. Was he... nah, Ushijima Wakatoshi would never cry.

But as his entire body began to tremble, it was painfully obvious that he was, in fact, crying.

"Hey, hey" Tendou said in a calming way, moving one step into the room, to close the door behind him. "Are you crying?"

Oh shit, Ushijima realized, he was. Was Tendou going to be mad now? Was he going to think less of him? Was he going to consider him weak and leave? Again?

"No" he added loudly, turning away, and walking deeper into the room, wiping his cheeks.

"Sure" Satori said, a wide smile on his lips. Did he really make Ushijima loose his composure? Well, that was a first.

"Where were you?" he asked, none of his previous emotions present anymore.

"Places"

"Satori Tendou!" he shouted slightly, and Tendou flinched at the sound of his full name.

"Alright, shush, it's still the middle of the night for some people. I was on the train station. I wanted to go to Tokyo to see my sister, but I forgot my wallet, and then I didn't want to come back, because you would be mad at me, everyone would consider me a drama queen, and I'd probably get detention for coming in late." he epxlained carefully, minding his every word, as he made Ushijima seat beside him on his bed.

He knew he hadn't calm down, he was still shaken, but for some silly reason he decided to keep it all in, even though him and Tendou knew each other for five whole years, and shouldn't have to be so careful around each other. It was crazy how he was closer to Wakatoshi than anyone on this world, and still, he still couldn't be the one person that would get him to completely open up.

He knew it was a rare and possibly the only occassion he had cried in front of someone, even if it was for thirty seconds, and even if he denied it all a moment later, still, it was great. It was an improvement Tendou hoped for all those years, although there was so much more he had to learn about his friend to understand him completely. It was never a hard thing for him to do, understand people's motives, but with this man, with him everything was suddenly so difficult and different.

He was angry with himself for disappearing like that, he didn't think about how much it would affect Ushijima, even though he claimed to know him the best.

"Why would you go there?" Wakatoshi asked silently.

"Well, I needed a reminder that I'm not really as scary and dangerous as people perceive me. And she's such a little angel, if she loves me, then I must be a nice person, right? If I got someone so innocent and good to love me, then how could I be bad? It's selfish, I know, but it seemed like a good idea at the time" he stared at the sheets between them, concentrating solely on their white colour, nothing else.

"I could've told you the same" he mumbled "If only you'd wait, I would tell you the same. I know I'm nothing like your little sister, but I still consider you the best person I've met. The best part of my life." he said, standing up, like it was nothing, and grabbing a change of clothes. He went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him, turning on the shower, so Tendou wouldn't hear him sigh out loud. He looked once more at the bloody trail on his hands, and noticed his shoulders were tense all this time, and now he could let it go, all at once.

He felt more tired than he ever did before.

Tendou sat on his bed for a good five minutes, tears silently flowing down his face, his mind unable to comprehend what just happened. It was more than he ever hoped for. It was hard to get an "I like you" from Ushijima, and saying that? It shocked him up to his very core.

It was almost time to get to class, and Wakatoshi still hadn't came out of the bathroom, so Tendou decided he'd check on him. He wouldn't respond to him calling his name, so, with his eyes obviously shut, he entered the room. Still, no response. He opened them one by one, relieved to find out the boy was fully dressed in his school uniform, but... asleep.

"Oh my, Toshi, how am I supposed to get you to bed now?" he laughed. Wow, he really did affect Ushijima.

It made him happy, somehow.

"Oh hell no" Wakatoshi heard Tendou whisper behind his back, and looked in the same direction as the redhead. There was a huge ski lift in front of them, but Ushijima didn't understand the suprise. It was a skiing trip, they had skis in their hands, were dressed in skiing uniforms from head to toes, what was there to be suprised about?

"Scared yet, Tendou?" Semi ran in between them, a glorious smile on his lips. He was a great skier, they all knew it, and he was so, so ready to prove it.

"What? Of course not" the boy laughed it off, his hands secretly trembling inside his gloves.

He looked over at Wakatoshi, who, on the other hand, seemed perfectly prepared as well. Looking damn well in that all black uniform, with his long ass skis over his shoulder, and a confident look on his face.

"I thought it was supposed to be you know, like that flying couches, or T-bars? Not this capsules, looking like space ships" he said. He knew what that ment. If the lift had capsules that could close, it was supposed to go higher than the other ones whe mentioned.

"Are you kidding? These are the best!" Shirabu shouted, an excited smile colouring his cheeks.

"Aww, look at the kid, so eager and excited!" Semi laughed, messing up Shirabu's hair. He glared at him deadly, his good mood all going away.

"I'm going to strangle you one of these days"

"I'm looking forward to you reaching my neck"

Shirabu looked like an angry chihuahua when angry, so it was difficult to be on his side without laughing. But Tendou's smile was all washed away as he was forced to put his skis inside the pocket on the side of the capsule and get inside. He was now sitting there with his three friends, two metres above the ground already, when some dumbass got his skis in the wrong way, and the lift stopped, making the capsule tilt from side to side, making him even more nervous.

"Tendou, you're pale" Ushijima noted, and Satori looked at him with hatred.

"No shit, Sherlock" he responded, still not wanting to admit his obvious fear of heights.

"Are you okay, Tendou-senpai?" Shirabu mocked in a high, teenage girl voice, calling him that on purpose, to annoy him even more.

"I'm fine" he only said, grasping onto the material of his jacket and closing his eyes shut, so he wouldn't see how high above the ground he actually was.

But about half the way up, he was already feeling as if he was to throw up any second.

"Tendou, I'm concerned, you're whiter than the snow" Ushijima stated, making the others laugh even louder, as Tendou glanced at them with despise.

"Screw you, Toshi" he said, managing to keep the leftovers of his confidence, because he was still inside something, that kept him from falling down.

It all changed when they got out, and he noticed the big, white slope in front of him, and how steep it was, going almost straight down, at least in his eyes.

"Wakatoshi, do I really have to get down? Can't I wait for you all here?" he finally asked, adjusting his skis unwillingly.

"What?" he said, looking at him curiously.

"I don't feel like sliding down, that's all" he explained faintly, and after a while of silence, he noticed Ushijima... laughing.

He full on laughed, his eyes almost disappearing with how high his cheeks lifted up, he held onto his own stomach, bent over in half, and laughing his ass off.

"What on earth are you doing?" Tendou was confused, seeing a view like this for the first time in his life. But Toshi wouldn't stop there, he almost fell over while laughing, seeming not to be able to catch his breath.

"Ushijima Wakatoshi, stop this right now! Stop making fun of me!" Satori tried to demand, but his own lip corners started to lift up subconsciously.

"I— I'm sorry, S-Satori, but your voice is so h-high-pitched right now, it-s i-impossible to take you s-seriously" the boy finally responded, "You sound like a l-little g-girl!"

Tendou chuckled as well, but it was mostly from suprise and shock Wakatoshi's excitement caused on him.

He looked very pretty while laughing, that's all he could focus on.

"Come on" Ushijima finally said, when he gathered himself up, still giggling like a four-year-old, and suddenly took Satori's hand, and began sliding down the hill.

"What the heck are you doing? Stop! I don't want to die, I'm going to fall!" he yelled, but the boy just kept laughing, ordering around to change his course every now and then, so they wouldn't fall on each other. Almost half the way he let go of his hand and began skiing even faster.

"Catch me if you can, Tendou!" he yelled, to the redhead's suprise. Why was he suddenly acting like a kid? He didn't know, but he also didn't mind. "If you can get to the bottom first, I'm buying you hot chocolate!"

"Oh, big man, you don't know what you just got upon yourself!" he yelled back, speeding as much as he could. None of his fears mattered, now that hot chocolate was on the table.

This sort of competition would last all day, and Tendou ended up loosing every single time, but the last time before going back to the hotel, he managed to outrun Ushijima. He was pretty sure the spiker let him do that, but he didn't care. He got down, unhooked his skis and jumped around in excitement, when Ushijima came down as well.

"My hot chocolate, Toshi! You owe me hot chocolate!" he shouted, all eager to go buy it right now.

To his suprise, Wakatoshi laughed again. It wasn't a crazy laugh like the one in the morning, but a slight giggle, as if he just saw something adorable.

"You skied down, Tendou! And didn't complain about the height of the mountain even once" he explained, smiling widely. And suddenly, Satori realized.

He did all those bets just for him to enjoy himself more and forget about his fears. He felt heat coming to his eyes, so he started blinking rapidly.

"I got a snowflake in my eye" he explained, and after a moment added "Well, I sure did, didn't I?"

"Yeah! And you were great, so I guess that means I do owe you your hot chocolate" he said, messing with Tendou's hair.

What on earth was going on? Was he on drugs?

"Everyone! Come on, let's go get chocolate before Sensei comes down!" the captain ordered, and the team followed him enthusiastically.

"Alright, this settles things for the next year's team. If anyone has any questions fee—"

Ushijima interrupted assistent coach with his hand gesture.

"Sir, if I may" he asked, his voice already steady and prepared for the speech he was about to give.

"Sure."

"Kawanishi. After Tendou leaves this world—"

"Oh my, Wakatoshi, don't make it sound like I'm about to die, or something!" Satori shouted, the other third years laughing in unison, looking at their captain's clueless expression.

"— You'll become the cornerstone for blocking. Have more confidence in yourself. Also, strenghten your serves." he said, in a demanding tone, but not very different from how he was communicating normally.

"Y-yes, sir!" the second year middle blocker yelled, stressed as he could be. Tendou laughed, noticing how tense he was. Oh god, how was this team going to manage without them?

"Shirabu!"

"Yes?"

"The structure of this team will from now on depend on you. We don't have any weak spikers, make sure you draw out everyone's potential."

"Yes."

"Umeda"

"Is he really going to say something questionably inspiring to every single one of them?" Semi whispered, and Tendou nodded.

"I'm afraid so, Semi-Semi"

"Stop calling me that already! Also, Tendou, I have a thing I need to ask you while Ushijima isn't listening"

Ushijima was in fact, listening.

"Shoot it" Tendou stated, lifting one eyebrow in curiousity.

"When're you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?" he laughed "That his speeches are making them scared? No, that would break his heart, Semi-Semi, have a little compassion within you"

"You know what!" he hissed, staring angrily right into the redhead's eyes.

Of course Tendou knew what. He chuckled, smiling condesendingly at his friend and setter.

"Wasn't that you, Semi-Semi, who said he's straighter than a ruler? The answer is never in a million years, not until pigs fly, and the world's end is upon us. If these conditions are all met, I'll consider it" after saying that he focused his eyes on the ceiling, not wanting to look back at Eita.

"Oh, come on! I watch you two acting like an old married couple for six whole years and I get nothing of it? You need to tell him!"

"Yeah, I kinda have to agree with Semi on this one" Leon said, raising his hand as if he was asking the teacher a question.

"What? You too?! Geez, do you have a shipping club or something? Don't you have your own lives to take care of?" he laughed nervously, hands already unfocused and tangling together his fingers behind his back to calm down.

"Do it or I will!" Semi threathened, and Tendou glanced him up and down with a deadly flame in his eyes.

"No you won't" he only hissed, his teeth clenched, and eyebrows frowning, looking down at the setter he was suddenly so intimidating, he really dropped the subject.

Tell me what? Ushijima thought, but had to focus on his speech.

"...Goshiki" he finally said, the first year looking at him as if he was about to pass out.

"Y-yes captain?" he mumbled faintly, and Wakatoshi grinned ever so slightly, that no one actually noticed, no one besides Goshiki.

"I'm counting on you."

Tears appeared in the young boy's eyes, as he yelled "Yes, Sir!" and then "Thank you very much!"

Tendou decided to go over to the emotional kid, and patted him slightly on the back.

"There, there, don't cry, how are you going to lead the team like that?"

The kid looked back up at him, with a thankful smile on his lips. Semi and the others couldn't shake the feeling that these two really do match each other perfectly. Wakatoshi builds everyone up with his officially sounding speeches, and Satori cheers them up if they need it. One is reserved, the other overly excited and emotional. One doesn't speak, the other won't shut up for a second.

One is oblivious, the other had been in love for the past six years and knows damn well that drilling feeling inside his stomach is never, ever going away. And he wishes it would, he wishes so hard.

Ushijima smiled gently as he watched Tendou laugh over the bent over boy.

"Alright" he decided to break the tention "I guess we still have that hundred serves to do"

He could really use some serious spiking right then and there, the feelings inside him wanting to erupt like a volcano of emotions.

"You're really going to do that?" Tendou looked at him with exhaustion and shock in his eyes.

Ushijima laughed.

"I was joking"

"You were WHAT?" the team yelled, and then broke down into laughter.

And so their story went on, through the last months of high school, graduation, and then college. Well, for Tendou it was college, for Ushijima it was playing in Japan's National Youth Team, for players under the age of nineteen.

The fact they couldn't possibly get through the challenges of life without each other was clearly visible when they rented an apartament in Tokyo together and had the best time continuing being roommates, like they did for the last six years. They'd visit their old highschool once or twice, but mostly it was being out of the house for most of the day, coming home in the evening, and watching some crappy show, eventually falling asleep.

Ushijima always brought Tendou with him on his morning runs, much to the latter's disamusement. Tendou, on the other hand, would often explain the concepts he'd learn, but Ushijima, although he was an intelligent person, would mostly just nod and pretend to understand.

They were happy like that. No problems in sight, no worries, no sorrows. None of them mentioned the thing Wakatoshi overheard that day after loosing their match to Karasuno, and Tendou was very content not telling him anything.

Of course a string of jealousy would tie around his heart every time he opened the mail to find like a thousand fan letters all for his roomie, but he knew it wasn't like Ushijima was falling in love. He wasn't even sure if he was familiar with the concept.

Later on everyone assumed that it was the young player who left his best friend first, because of his ongoing career and invitations to other teams, but that actually wasn't true.

"Hey, Toshi, you there?" he heard Tendou's quiet voice on the other side of his door.

"Yeah" he mumbled, face buried deep in his pillow.

The door opened, and the redhead appeared in them, but when Ushijima finally looked at him, something seemed off. He appeared smaller, and thinner than usual, but the volleyball player explained that to himself with his exhaustion.

"I have an important issue I have to discuss with you." he said, and Wakatoshi lifted himself up to a sitting position, eyes hardly managing to stay open and focus on the boy's figure.

"What is it?" he asked, noticing the big envelope in his best friend's hands.

The boy sighed, looking through the big window, like he was searching for something in Tokyo's late night landscape.

"Remember when we were still kids, and you took me out to chocolate ice-cream after Ichika-chan's condition got worse for the first time?" he asked, his eyes upsent, mind already somewhere else.

"I do, why?"

"Well, we talked about our future then, remember? When I said that I'd most likely move to Paris, and live above an alcoholic, and shout at teenagers outside my unit?"

"I remember, but you already chose college here in Tokyo, didn't you?"

"Yeah I did, but... they offered me a scholarship in Paris. I'd study arts where arts have their origins, Toshi"

That fell upon Ushijima Wakatoshi like a rock, hitting him on the head, making him dizzy. The drilling feeling in his stomach increased, making him grip the material on his shirt that was there.

Was Tendou leaving him?

He did it all right, he closed off from the entire world, just so his emotions wouldn't bother anybody, he took care of him, he tried so hard not to tell him about that weird feeling he felt towards him ever since they met, he did it all. And still, he couldn't seem to be able to stop yet another person he... loved, from leaving him.

How could he? After he made him dependent on him through all these years, how could he just...?

But after all, what did Wakatoshi expect? He couldn't keep him in a cage forever, Tendou was someone with a free spirit, and it would do him more harm than good to keep him by Ushijima's side.

"But, Toshi, I'll tell them to go to hell, I really will" he noticed Tendou crying silently by the window, looking directly into his eyes "Once you tell me that one thing I need to hear to stay"

Ushijima's eyes lit up.

What did Tendou want to hear?

"And that is?" he whispered, not even blinking so he wouldn't miss any single move of Tendou's face, when he snorted sarcastically, and shook his head, looking at the ceiling.

"Of course you don't even know. Doesn't matter, Wakatoshi, I got my answer" he said, leaving the room, but the taller boy ran up to him and grabbed him by the wrist.

"Wait, let me think, please. I'm not good with emotions, you know that" he begged, and Tendou looked at him with his teary eyes, his look tearing Ushijima's heart apart, cold as ice. He finally nodded, and leaned against the doorframe.

What could he possibly want to hear? Was it about that weird gut feeling he had?

No, that couldn't be it. Nobody would like to hear about his feelings. No one never.

But truly, what else could it be?

"Are you asking if I want you to stay?"

"No, you heard me the first time."

Wakatoshi started to move backwards, until he stumbled upon his bed and sat on it, eyes fixed on the floor, head down, visibly concerned. It was heartbreaking for Tendou to see him like this, but his whole life was on the line. He'd give it all away for one second with his best friend, but he knew that would fuck him up for good if the feeling wasn't mutual. If Wakatoshi could ever leave HIM just like Tendou couldn't bring himself to.

The boy's breathing started to get short, as he struggled to get the right words. Tendou pitied him. For some reason, for some mistreating he experienced years ago, he wouldn't seem to ever let himself go, and he was bottling up everything he should be able to let go easily. He never though he'd seen it go this far, but here he was, watching Wakatoshi rip the hair out of his head, struggling and trying to say what he so needed to hear.

"I'll help you out, Wakatoshi. Since it's life or death for me, stay or leave, I guess I don't have to hide it anymore" he took a deep breath "Ever since that moment when you said let's break the rules and go get ice-cream, I was astonished by you. Here you were, the first person ever to bend their limits for my sake, and it moved me to the point I though I somehow developed a crush on you, my roommate, my teammate, my best friend. My very straight best friend." after that part, he wanted to see some kind of reaction, but got none, so he sighed and continued "But I knew it would eventually go away, because I was just shocked by the fact someone actually cared for me, in his really weird and odd kind of way. But it didn't. In fact, it only grew, every day, hour and minute, it stopped being a crush and started to be love. I was madly, and I mean it when I say it, madly in love with you, through half of middle school and all high school. I knew I couldn't tell you, I knew it was pointless, and impossible to work out, but still, I couldn't help it. It became a part of who I was. And so it went on, and on, and on, until it was time to leave school, and Semi tried to get me to confess it. It didn't work out, I was too much of a coward, comfortable with having you just as his best friend. But after a year of living with you, out of my own wish, not the decision of the principal's office, I can clearly see that I can't live like that. I can't live without you, but for that I also need myself. I need back control over my life. So tell me, Wakatoshi, tell me that one magical thing I need, or I'll vanish right this second"

"Satori, you're making this too hard of a choice!"

"It shouldn't be a choice at all, Ushi! I'm already half convinced I should leave by what you're saying"

Come on, Ushijima, he wants the one thing you already know. It's not that hard. Just say it.

"I—" oh god, it was hard "I, uhm, I..."

His heart pounded like crazy, his head hurted, and he was dizzy from stress. Damn it, let it go, or you'll loose the one thing you care about!

"I... I'm really trying, Satori"

"That's not it" he only said, trying to leave once again.

"No wait! Wait, forgive me, please, don't go yet." he shouted.

"Okay, okay shush, the whole block will hear you with that tone" Tendou said calmly, putting both his hands over his friend's shoulders.

He was close to being histeric. All it took was three words. And yet he was too weak to say them. He could work his best, he could put all effort in making himself the best, the strongest, the undefeatable Ushijima Wakatoshi, and yet still, he wasn't strong enough. He wasn't enough.

Tears started rolling down his face, without him even realizing that.

"I— Fuck! Fucking hell, Fuck!" he screamed, and screamed, and screamed, but these three special words still couldn't seem to get out of his throat.

He noticed Tendou crying, as well.

"After seven years of staying by your side at all times, all I want is to be able to make you love me back. But I am really powerless, nothing has changed, has it? I couldn't be better than Oikawa, I couldn't give you what you wanted, I couldn't be a girl, for you to want me, and now, no matter how hard I try, I won't ever be able to just... make you love me back"

"That's not it!" Ushijima yelled "That's not it, I wouldn't like you to be anything else rather than yourself!"

"Then say it. Please, Toshi, I'm tired, it shouldn't be this hard. But I know you're an earnest person, if you say it, I'll blindly believe you." he sighed. He really did look tired, how come Ushijima hadn't noticed earlier? How his undereyes were all dark, how the vains in his eyes were visible, how thin and pale he was...

I love you.

I love you!

I love you so damn much it hurts me to know it!

"I— really hate myself right now" he said in a tired voice "I— uhm, I... "

His lips trembled, his whole body ached, everything was suddenly so blurry.

"Satori, you're my best—"

"Oh, my fucking god!" Tendou screamed "And to believe I actually hoped and believed you'll finally, finally fucking love me! Of course I am your best friend, you idiot, you never had any more than me! I know I matter! I know you care! But that's not enough, Ushijima, that's just not enough!" Tears flooded Tendou's eyes as he finally stormed off out of the room, and grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet on his way out.

"Wait! Wait, that's not what I was trying to say and you know it!" Wakatoshi shouted at him, but he didn't listen anymore.

The redheaded boy smiled, bittersweetly, while chocking on his own tears at his best and only true friend, for what he considered to be the last time ever.

"It was a pleasure being your friend and teammate, Ushijima" he said and closed the door behind him.

That was the last time ever that Wakatoshi Ushijima broke his heart. But damn, it was going to last a whole lifetime.

Every day, for eighteen months the volleyball player would message his friend. At first it was a whole paragraph about how much of a mistake he made, but then it was just his name. It became a habit, everyday before work he'd just text him "Satori" and hope for the best, but the best never came.

He finished his career in Japan Youth National Team, and signed a contract with the polish one, Orzeł Warszawa. He left with nothing to even say goodbye to, even glad he was moving to the other side of the world, because everything in Tokyo was just a walking emobiement of the regret and hate he felt towards himself.

His new teammates were nice, they were very talkative and friendly, and their fans were so, so open and supportive, it was truly suprising. He even started learning the language, but it was a hard thing to do, considering it was one of the hardest on the planet.

"Wakatoshi!" he heard someone yell at his back, with that annoying little accent over "toshi" the polish used to say every time.

"What?" he asked, turning around to see Daniel, his setter.

"Come, we have a thing to discuss with you"

Ushijima was tired, and didn't want to talk to anyone, but there he was, following the guy into their locker room, which he left like five minutes earlier.

"What's up?" he asked, noticing everyone, even the two girls managing them, standing around and looking at him and Daniel.

"Wakatoshi, before our coach got you to join us, he did a whole lot of research. You were simply the best there was, and percisely what we needed. But we're professionals, just like you, and we know that what you're showing us right now is nothing even remotely related to your best. So, the question remains: what's up? Are you homesick? Do you not like us?" Daniel asked, and Ushijima felt his heart go up to his throat. Oh god, he didn't know it affected them all like that.

"It's not that, no, I'm so sorry for letting you all down..." he started, but got cut off.

"Hey, man, stop apologizing! We just want to find a solution." said the one he got along with the best, Artur.

"It's just... my mind is kind of not cooperating with me these days. My motivation sort of... left me."

"Oh god, guys, I figured it out!" the girl, Kasia, as they all referred to her after Ushijima stated that her full name "Katarzyna" was too difficult for him to pronounce. "Heartbreak!" she yelled as if she'd just now discovered America for the second time.

But much to Ushijima's suprise, they all agreed on that, and soon he had a million arms leaning over him.

"Alright, let me introduce you to a copying mechanism we have against hearbreaks. We don't do this very often, because it's bad for the muscles, but this is an emergency situation. We call it wódka i karaoke. You'll love it."

Soon after he found himself in a karaoke bar, doubting every single life choice he ever made.

"Wakatoshi! We've seen you drink before, but this, this you haven't tried yet." Artur said, putting a huge bottle on the table.

"And what's that?" he asked.

"That, my friend, that's Żubrówka, it's an alcohol, and it'll get it all out of you" he explained, and put the glasses on the table, pouring everyone one, and then bringing glasses with coke. "Drink it all at once, and then drink the other thing, so it doesn't burn so much in your throat.

Ushijima did as they told him, but didn't feel the need to drink the coke.

"It's not burning at all" he said, almost disappointed, which resulted in them all laughing.

"Alright then, let's have another round!"

Turns out their heads were much stronger than his, because they seemed completely fine after four rounds like that, and Ushijima's head was already going in circles.

"So, Wakatoshi, who's the unfamous girl we're talking about?" Julia, the other manager, asked, nudging him with her elbow.

"It's a boy" he said, then covering his lips with his hand, not realizing he'd actually say what he meant. "How many percents that thing has?"

"Oh, fourty, I guess?" Artur said, giggling. The number itself made him dizzy.

"A boy, huh?" she asked "Cool, any name?"

"You want it how we say it or how you say it?"

"Normally?"

"So how you say it, alright" he sighed and said "His name is Satori Tendou. He's a wonderful person and I treated him the wrong way, and now he's never coming back"

Well, that came out darker than he anticipated. The fact that it CAME OUT was already a huge suprise.

"Oh, don't say that, Wakatoshi, I'm sure you can win his heart back" she patted his shoulder "In fact! I have a great idea! You'll sing a song, it's a karaoke bar after all!"

"Are you crazy, or are you dumb, the last time I sang it was at my teammate's birthday party in highschool" he declined, shaking his head no.

But it only took him two more rounds to eventually say yes. He complained about not knowing the lyrics, and they sure as hell were complicated to sing, but Julia told him not to worry, that he'll listen first, and then she'll translate him the whole song and teach him the chorus, so he can only sing that.

They were listening to his teammates go all goofy, while singing very old polish songs.

"Okay, what does that mean, and why does it sound so funny?" he asked sincerely.

"Well, it's a song called 'A wszystko to, bo ciebie kocham', and it means 'And all of this, because I love you'. The lyrics are actually pretty cute, he sings that he'll do it all out of love for the girl, and he doesn't know how to live without her, he could even kill himself for her, but the problem is, the song is very cheesy and well, kind of embarassing to sing. I'll record them, so I can send it to the groupchat in the morning" she laughed, and he joined along, noticing how weird they did really sound.

"Alright, and what do we sing?" he asked, looking through the sheet of available songs "And does it HAVE to be in polish?"

"Yes, yes it does, because it's going to be funny, and you're going to forget your sorrows for a bit, before we solve them!" she smiled widely at him, and he couldn't help but return the grin, moved by how far they were willing to go to get his personal life in order. "Alright, but first, tell me about what you did wrong, so I can choose. They're all old, I can't believe Artur picked this bar, but who cares, old songs can be romantic as well. So?"

"Oh, I'd rather not..." he said "I'm not good with things like that" But noticing Kasia's puppy eyes, he sighed and decided to go for it, the alcohol making it all seem easy. "Well, he was my best friend, and only friend, to be exact, for seven whole years before he told me he was moving to Paris, for a scholarship, like he wanted to for a long time. But he said he'd throw it all away, if only I told him what he needed to hear."

"That you loved him?" she asked, and she glanced at her, shocked.

"How did you know?!"

"It was kind of obvious, to be honest. And I'm guessing you didn't do that?"

"Yeah"

"Why?" she put her elbow on the table, and stared right into Ushijima's eyes, making him uncomfortable, but also convincing him to keep talking.

"I wanted to, but I just couldn't. I know it sounds dumb..."

"Oh, believe me, I know how that feels like. Both sides of the story, actually. Well, I'm sure he does have a reason to not want to see you again, but too bad, cause he's gonna. Alright, your song will be.... 'Stacja Warszawa'!" she shouted, excited that she found a perfect song.

"Does it mean Station: Warsaw?" he asked, and she nodded, giving him a thumbs up about his polish getting better.

"Good, you're a really quick learner there, Toshi!"

He froze upon hearing the nickname, but she didn't notice.

"Alright, so you're going to be singing this part" she explained, marking it on the lyrics. "Overall, the song is about how lonely Warsaw seems for the guy without his love, and how everything that is wrong with this city would suddenly be better if only she were there. And you're parts meaaaan... the first one is 'Everything would be so different, if you were here, I know, not so difficult and strange, if only you were here, I know.' The second one is 'If love means anything, it must give us a sign, maybe sometime you'll see it, and tell me that...' and the rest isn't your part cause I feel like you'd have a hard time propouncing it.

"That's actually... pretty accurate" he whispered, amazed by the text.

Then she proceeded to teach him the lyrics.

He was feeling insecure and embarassed, about to sing, which he totally didn't like, and sing in a language he barely even knew, but the alcohol did it's job, and he didn't care as much. It was honestly a nice feeling, to be able to let it all go at once, but he was trying not to do that, because that would've flooded him all, and he'd become a big, pathethic mess.

And that's when he realized. He couldn't say these easy, three words, because he was afraid, that if he'd let his guard down this much, it would all come out, all these emotions he'd been holding, and he was worried how that would feel. It was so sudden and logical, he was left there in shock, and payed only half of his attention to what Julia was explaining.

He went on the stage, somehow, reassured by the fact that almost all of the guests that night was the team, and he wouldn't embarass himself in front of any strangers.

The song was nice to listen to, but the performance of polish volleyball players, well, not so much. He wasn't one to talk with his vocal abilities, but well.

It was soon his part, and he took the microphone shyly, wrapping both his hands around it, and sang quietly:

"Wszystko byłoby inne gdybyś tu był, ja wiem, nie tak trudne i dziwne, gdybyś tu był, ja wiem" the fact that he didn't fully understand made it less awkward to say, that was shocking.

Then the music's volume went up, and he sang more confidently:

"Jeśli miłość coś znaczy to musi dać znak, kiedyś też to zobaczysz, powiesz mi tak"

Even to himself, he sounded like a half dead pig, and his polish was terrible, considering it had a lot of consonants in one place, and not one consonant and one vocal syllables, like in Japanese.

It truly did feel amazing to finally say something like that, and he didn't know which factor made it so easy: the percents in the alcohol he just drank, or his poor understanding of the lyrics, but he started smiling.

"That was so, so good!" Kasia shouted once Artur, Daniel, and Ushijima, of course, left the stage. "I got that on your camera, Toshi!" she shook the device to prove it. "And I'm posting it right now! Tell me, does this almost-boyfriend of yours have an instagram account?"

"He does, why?" he asked, not fully aware of his sorroundings by then, not realizing she was in fact, not joking, but really posting his singing on instagram, on his official, verified account, and tagged Tendou in it.

After that, it was three or four songs before they left. The guys have all went home, and he was left with Julia and the other girl, Kasia, on the cold streets of Warsaw in the middle of the night.

"So, he took off to Paris, huh?" the first girl started the conversation.

"Mhm"

"You know, while we're talking about songs, there's another one I like. It's highly sexist and not quite adequate for modern times, but once you understand it was written in the eighties, it's actually kind of logical, and beautiful."

"How do the lyrics go, then?" he asked, too drunk to be reserved.

"Well, the quote I'm talking about in polish is 'Bo męska rzecz - być daleko', and it means it's men's thing to be far away. She then says the only thing you can do is wait, and hope, the tears in your eyes will turn into happy tears at once. The title means that you can still see the white sail in the distance, and it's about the sail of the ship they boy is on, leaving her, and she's not sure when he'll come back. But what's most important is to hope that he eventually will." she said in a dreamy voice.

"You're right, that is sexist"

"Look at our dear Toshi, standing up for women" they both laughed. "But it does make sense, doesn't it?"

"I can see why it you consider it reassuring. I do hope to see him walking out of a plane to see me at some point, even though he hadn't said a word to me in a year and a half"

"He will. If all you said was true, it's true love. And love finds a way."

"Julia?"

"Yeah, Toshi?"

"How do you say I love you in polish?" he asked, his eyes glossy, she almost saw the reflection of the moon in them.

"Kocham cię" she said quietly. "Kocham meaning I love, and cię meaning you"

"It sounds nice. Kocham cię" he said, and all three of them laughed at how dumb that sounded in his mouth, all blurred together and not at all sounding like the nice and earnest expression Julia said before. But nevertheless, he was smiling widely. "I said it" he whispered, a hot feeling flooding his chest.

"Congratulations, Mr Closed Off, you really did"

Wakatoshi looked at the moon. Was Tendou looking at it right now as well? Was he still wishing for them to be looking at it together?

The next morning, Ushijima woke up in his rented apartament, noticing it was still so early, considering he didn't have practice that day, and wondered what on earth woke him up.

His head hurted like hell, and he felt like throwing up. Then, he heard the thing that woke him up again. It was the doorbell.

"Idę!" he yelled, meaning 'I'm coming' in polish. It was actually one of the first phrases he learned, because his neighbours and mailman were all confused when he used to say it in english, or worse, japanese.

He needed to support himself by holding onto the wall, because the dizzyness became unbearable. He promised himself never to drink with his team again. He turned the key in his lock, and opened the door.

He thought for a second he was still asleep, when he saw who was ringing his doorbell at this ungodly hour. He looked differently, his hair was styled differently, and his style changed, but for sure it was him.

No, he must've mistaken someone for him. Maybe it was some kind of a new neighbour with dyed hair, and he was still drunk? Or maybe too dizzy to notice the details? Or his imagination was playing tricks on him?

Only then had he realized he was staring bluntly at the person for almost a minute now.

"Toshi?" he heard a familiar voice say.

So it was him. How did he get here? When did he get here? Why did he get here?

All the dizzyness, and more importantly, the weird drilling feeling inside his stomach disappeared at once, and he truly saw, Tendou Satori in the flash, standing in front of him.

"Tendou, Kocham cię" he said suddenly, not wanting to wait with it any longer, since it was him. He then proceeded to hug him as tightly as he never did before, inhaling the scent, the aura, it all.

"What?" Tendou laughed, as vibrantly as freely as Ushijima remembered it. The one thing he'd never forget was Tendou's laugh, even if it were fifty years, not one and a half.

"That means I love you in polish" he explained.

"Oh. But you're my best—"

"Shut it!" he shouted, way too loud for the early hour.

"I'm kidding, relax" Satori smiled widely. "In that cause, Kocham cię, too"

the end

#ushijima #ushi #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima imagine #ushijima x tendou #tendou #tendou satori #tendou hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu #hq #angst #hq angst #ff #fanfiction #hq fanfic

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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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sheliesshattered · 4 years

Text

This Isn’t A Ghost Story - Chapter 1

Whouffaldi non-canon AU. 8 chapters, will be about 32,000 words when complete. Rated Mature for heavier themes in later chapters, please contact me privately if you’re worried about triggering topics. Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor. Mystery, pining and angst with a happy ending. Available on AO3 under the same username and title. Updates every Friday.

This Isn’t A Ghost Story

Chapter 1: The House

14 November 2014, London

There was a certain amount of irony, Clara reflected, that her first reaction was I’m going to kill him.

Her ‘special friend’ had just cost her the sale of her late grandmother’s house. Again. This had to be roughly the twelfth adorable family or nice couple that had stepped into her ancestral family home only to turn tail and run before they’d even had a chance to hear about the antique hardwood floors or the fully restored kitchen. At this point, he wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore.

The longer the house sat on the market, the fewer calls she was getting to schedule walk-throughs of the property. She was beginning to worry that word of the house’s strangeness was getting around the local real estate community. If things kept up at this rate, she was going to end up permanently saddled with an inheritance whose tax burden she could barely afford, in the form of a one hundred and thirty year old, gorgeous, sprawling, haunted house.

Clara used her key to let herself in through the ornate front door, grumbling under her breath. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the cabinets in the kitchen began to rattle ominously.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, dropping her purse and keys on the small table in the foyer. “It’s just me.”

The door to one of the bedrooms upstairs slammed shut.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands and counted to ten before looking up again. “Listen, I get that you’re cross with me for bringing people by, but I am beyond livid with you, so let’s skip the part where I yell and you throw things and just agree to be angry with each other in silence, okay?”

The house went quiet in a manner entirely too creepy for her liking. If not for the undercurrent of petulant passive-aggressiveness, she might have actually been scared.

Not that Clara had ever really been scared of the ghost that lived in her Gran’s house. He had never once made her feel unsafe, not since she’d first spoken to him as a small child. But the sudden silence was still unnerving.

“Well, good,” she said into the preternatural stillness, more to prove to herself that she wasn’t scared than anything else. “It’s nice to actually be able to hear myself think, for a change.”

The top step of the staircase creaked once, as if to make a point.

“Still shut up,” she grumbled.

She went about the short list of tasks she’d come to see to, putting away the food she’d set out for the potential home buyers, watering the plants, closing the curtains, and flicking on a few lamps to make the house look lived-in. Of course, she didn’t envy anyone who tried to break into the house while it sat apparently empty. At some level, a poltergeist was better home protection than a dog could ever be.

Her chores complete, Clara returned to the foyer to find her purse where she’d left it, but her keys conspicuously missing. She sighed, hands on her hips, and turned towards the cold spot she could feel forming near the foot of the stairs. He was nothing but a faint wispy outline in the direct light of the setting sun filtering through the stained glass window over the front door, but even that outline was familiar enough that Clara was able to find his eyes and fix him with a displeased glare.

“Where are my keys?” she demanded. She still hadn’t forgiven him for his behaviour earlier, and she was in no mood to play find-the-lost-trinket tonight.

“I didn’t want you to leave before I could apologise,” the ghost said, not quite meeting her gaze. His voice raised gooseflesh along her arms, as usual, but she much preferred the low rumble of his Scottish brogue to the slamming of doors and rattling of cupboards. Not that she would ever openly admit that to him.

“So apologise and tell me where you’ve hidden my keys!”

“Clara,” he said, and she clenched her teeth against the shivery reaction she always had to the way he said her name, like it had been invented just so he could say it. There were days when she lived for that rush — and many, many lonely nights, in her love-struck teenaged years — but today was absolutely not one of them.

“...Was there more to that sentence?” she asked when he didn’t go on. “Saying my name does not constitute an apology.”

He glanced up at her, looking increasingly solid as the sunlight waned. “I’m sorry I upset you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“No, your intention was to make certain I can’t sell this house, and don’t bother to deny it.”

He chewed his incorporeal lip for a moment, then shrugged. “I won’t deny it. I don’t want you to sell the house. But I’m still sorry I upset you.”

Clara sighed. “I have to sell it. You know this. And someday, someone too brave or too stupid to fall for all your clattering will decide to buy this place, and that’ll be that.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, his eyes glinting blue in the gathering dusk.

“It’s the reality of the situation, so you’d best start making peace with it,” she said evenly. Another irony not lost on her: arguing the state of reality with a man dead nearly a century. “Now, where are my keys?”

Her ghost hesitated. “You don’t have to leave,” he said. “You could stay?”

“I never stay the night in this house. That was your advice to me, more than twenty years ago. No sense in breaking with tradition.”

“I think maybe I was being overly paranoid at the time.”

“And I think maybe you’re acting like a lonely old man now,” Clara snarked back.

“Alone in a house that you of all people are dead-set on evicting me from? I can’t imagine why I’d be lonely!”

“It’s not like you’re stuck here! You’re not tied to the house, you can go anywhere you want!”

“But it’s my house!”

“Keys, now!” she snapped. “Traffic is already going to be horrendous—”

“All the more reason to stay,” he said petulantly.

“But,” she went on forcefully, speaking over him, “tomorrow’s Saturday, so I have the day off work. If you tell me where my keys are, I’ll come back first thing in the morning. I still need to finish going through all those old boxes in the attic. We can spend the day working on that together, okay?”

“You’re going to drive all the way home only to turn around and come back in the morning? Why not just—”

“Or I could spend the day doing something fun with people my own age, very far away from here,” she bluffed. “Your choice.”

“Oh, fine,” he said, shoulders sagging. “Your keys are hidden in the parlour, I’ll show you where.”

“Thank you,” she said mildly, and followed him into the next room.

As promised, Clara arrived back at her grandmother’s house early the next morning, take-away coffee cup in hand. There had been a moment, whilst she stood in the queue to order, when she’d found herself thinking she ought to get two coffees, bring her ghost a peace offering to smooth over their row from the night before. Thankfully she’d realised how ridiculous that sounded before it was her turn to order, but she still felt strangely off balance as she unlocked the front door and let herself in, like she had forgotten something important.

“Hey,” she called to the empty house, as soon as she closed the door behind her. “It’s just me, no need to go rattling the hinges on my account.”

Her ghost appeared in a shadowy corner of the foyer, smiling at her shyly. “Good morning, my Clara,” he said. “You look lovely today. Have you had a wash?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to ignore the somersaulting of her heart at the way he said her name. My Clara. “Why are you being nice?”

“Because it works on you,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “And because I really am sorry about yesterday,” he added.

“Well, apology accepted,” Clara said. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you. The process of selling this place has been entirely too stressful, and I’m really starting to worry it won’t happen before the property taxes are due,” she sighed.

He ran a semi-transparent hand through the short curls at the back of his head, the ring he wore on his left hand briefly catching the light. “Yeah, about that...”

She winced. “What did you do?”

“The post came early today,” he said, voice even more apologetic than before. “I didn’t open it, but one of the envelopes has a rather official looking return address. I put it on the dining room table for you.”

She left her keys and purse on the table by the door and trudged off to the dining room, unable to contain her groan when she saw the envelope in question. Opening it, she found that he was right: property taxes were due in six weeks, the total even higher than she had anticipated. It was more than she made in a month at her teaching job. Even with the small amount she had stashed away in savings, she would hardly be able to pay it and the rent on her flat, and still expect to feed herself.

“What about the rest of your inheritance?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried.

“I put it all into fixing up this place to sell,” she said.

“Which I’ve made impossible,” he murmured.

Clara covered her face with her hands, trying not to cry and hoping he wouldn’t notice. Yes, he was the reason she hadn’t been able to sell the house to any of the dozen or so buyers who had shown initial interest. But he was also the only one in her life who even knew or cared what she was going through.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she told him honestly, still hiding behind her hands. “If I don’t pay it, they’ll just add late fees on top of that already ridiculously large sum. If I can’t sell the house soon...”

She felt a cold touch drift across the back of her hands, felt her hair stir in a nonexistent breeze, and wished, not for the first time in her life, that her ‘special friend’ was the sort of friend who could offer a hug when she so desperately needed one.

“I don’t suppose there’s a secret stash of diamonds in the attic?” she asked him, only half joking. “Or a map to buried treasure?”

“You are descended from a line of exceptionally adventuresome women,” he replied, voice sounding distant and thoughtful. “I haven’t been up to the attic in years. I don’t know what all is in there, but anything is possible.”

Clara dropped her hands from her face and squared her shoulders, not looking at her ghost until she was certain she wouldn’t spontaneously burst into tears. “Well, let’s hope there’s something up there that will help.”

The attic had never been Clara’s favourite place in her Gran’s house, cramped and dusty and full of ancient boxes that gave off a far creepier vibe than the literal ghost had ever managed to do. But on the plus side, it was also windowless, dim enough that he was able to appear to her in a fairly solid state and even move lightweight objects as though he were a real person existing in the real world.

She had removed the larger pieces from the attic weeks ago, furniture and blanket chests and trunks of old clothing, all sorted through and donated to charity or brought back to her flat, or else restored to the best of Clara’s ability and set out to decorate the house in a manner befitting its age. All that remained were boxes of keepsakes, photographs and journals and old letters, small family things that required far more of her attention to sort through.

Despite the lingering threat of the taxes due, it was a pleasant morning, sitting together amidst the papers and dust, slowly uncovering the history of her family, layer on layer, like an archaeologist digging through levels of sediment. Her Gran had spent her entire life in this house, from the time she was a baby, used it as a homebase during her adventurous youth, married and raised her own daughter in it, and continued to live in it after her husband died. The boxes that littered the attic bore witness to all those many decades.

“Oh my god, these photos of Mum,” Clara said, turning the yellowed album towards her ghost so he could see them, in all their early 1970s glory. “She must have been, what, about fifteen in these?”

“Ellie’s first formal school dance,” he confirmed, leaning in to examine the photos. “With that older boy, I forget his name. Your grandfather did not approve.”

Clara snorted. “Can’t say I blame him. Look at those sideburns. I’m not sure I would have let her go out with him at all.”

“They had a huge row about it, if I remember correctly. In the end, your grandmother took your mother’s side, and she was allowed to go.”

“Why didn’t you ever appear to any of them?” she asked, flipping through the pages and pausing to linger on what looked to be polaroids of a rugby game. “You were here all that time, but you never talked to anyone until I came along?”

He shrugged. “You were the only one that was you.”

“Thanks. That clears it right up.”

“It’s the only answer I’ve got,” he objected.

“I scared the daylights out of Mum and Gran when I told them about you, I was probably all of six years old at the time.”

“Five, I think,” he said quietly.

“God, five. I might have a heart attack if my five year old started talking very confidently about her special friend the ghost that lives at Gran’s house.”

“I seem to remember advising you against telling them.”

“And in all the time you’ve known me, when have I ever taken your advice?” she asked archly.

“Hmm. There was that one time you actually listened to me, about that chap you were dating, what’s-his-name.”

Clara winced, remembering it all too well. “I thought we agreed never to speak of him again.”

“Gladly,” her ghost replied emphatically.

She shook her head, more than happy to dismiss the subject. “As a child it didn’t make sense to me not to tell Mum and Gran about you. You live in Gran’s house, the house where Mum grew up, I just assumed they already knew about you. I mean, why wouldn’t they?”

“I’m not sure I could have talked to them, even if I’d wanted to. And I never did want to.”

Clara turned her gaze to him, studying his face in the dimness. Without direct sunlight, he looked almost human, almost alive, the blue of his eyes and the salt and pepper of his hair appearing so very real, so very close at hand. He still seemed as ageless to her now as he had when she was a child. Ageless and ancient, wise and funny, solemn and sardonic. She thought perhaps she knew his face better than any other, living or dead.

“But why didn’t you ever want to talk to them?” she pressed.

“Why do you need a key to enter the house?” he asked in response.

She felt her eyebrows come together in consternation. “Because the door is locked.”

“But why that key?”

“Because... that’s the key that fits. That’s the key that goes with that lock.”

He shrugged, most of his attention on the page of the journal he’d been perusing. “You are the key that fits. I can’t give you a better answer than that.”

Chapter 2: The Box

#Whouffaldi #Twelve/Clara #Clara/Twelfth Doctor #Twelfth Doctor #Clara Oswald #Clara and the Doctor #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story chapters #my writing #available on AO3 under the same title and username #please comment and reblog!

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020may · 3 years

Text

a message to my teens...

I’m starting this letter to myself on May 15, 5 days before I turn 20. As my teen years come to an end, I want to take the time to reflect a bit on who I am, as I venture into my twenties.

13 was the age that you graduated elementary school, and started high school.

I remember being scared of the change into high school, and all the scary upperclassmen. I was worried how it would feel to not be in the same class all day with all the same classmates. But in a way, I suppose, I was excited to meet new friends. I was always told that in high school you make friends that you keep for a long time. And, I’m still friends with them today.

You wrote a letter to your future self when you were 13. In it you talked about how you were upset about the lack of a proper graduation ceremony and not being able to go to Playland or Cultus. I suppose I still wish we got to go, I know it would’ve been so fun. But I had other chances to go, and I had other opportunities to spend time and make memories with my friends and classmates. Something that you mentioned in your letter was that you were upset that you couldn’t walk criss-cross into the seats, and how it's the little things like this that make the ceremony something worth remembering. I don’t want to invalidate your feelings in any way, I know it was really upsetting, but I want you to know, in the future you completely forgot that walking in criss-cross was a thing. You’ll feel better about this with time.

To be honest, I don't feel like I can explicitly recall anything memorable from 14. I think this was when you started making some new friends, some of your closest friends to this day. I hope it brings you comfort to know that whatever troubles you were facing, future you doesn’t remember. Those social studies tests you worried and stressed so much about don’t mean anything now. Whatever grade you got on a project, really doesn’t affect you in the future.

I remember, when you turned 15, you had this epiphany of “oh my gosh I’m old”. 15 seemed like that age you always saw in movies and books and tv shows, and now all of a sudden you were that age. There was that time when you went to Vancouver Island, and at the ferry station, you were asked your age, and you weren’t used to being 15 so you said 14. It was a weird moment, and marked the moment where I started to become so self conscious of my age. At this age I started feeling old. (looking back you really were so young).

I think it was at this age, school started getting a bit more busy and started mattering more to you. Your course load was definitely harder than in grade 8 and 9, and grade 10 marks started showing up on your transcript. I think you were learning for the first time on how to deal with all of these tests and assignments and projects. It 15 was the first time you started feeling overwhelmed at times, and sometimes you had dark thoughts. I want you to know that you got through it all. That despite those worries you had, things were okay. You were strong.

You made a portfolio for Mr. Roberts’s English 10H class. It’s really nice to look back on sometimes. I hope that you’ll make one in the future again, or rewrite some of the stuff in there. 16 was another special age of growth. I think when you were 16, that’s when you started to really care about how you looked. And that meant you felt insecure a lot. And that meant you hated the way you looked a lot, you hated it so much.

You were in grade 11, and you started to feel pressure about university and what you would study in the future. Looking back in my diary, I can tell that you were stressed and you were lost and you were tired. I hope you know things will be okay. It’s okay to be lost sometimes. I hope you can learn to lean on the people around you. And don’t stress too much about university, you made it to one in the end.

At 17, you entered your last year of high school. 17 was another where I think I had an epiphany about my sudden oldness. I think the beginning may have been tough, you were worried about SATs and universities and essays and you doubted yourself a lot. At this age you started to care a bit less about others. Maybe it was because you were now part of the oldest students at school, and maybe it was because you knew all your classmates a bit better. You started to care a bit less about others, and you felt a bit more comfortable with class presentations, felt a bit more comfortable just being loud with your friends, but I know deep down you still cared a lot about what others thought. But I'm proud of how far you’ve come. I know at this age you definitely started reflecting a lot on your younger self, and you started thinking a lot about how you wished you did things differently when you were younger. I hope that you learn that this means you can start to change things going forward.

I think 17 was also an age where you started having more adventures with your friends, or just going out with them more. It was likely because you had more time after uni apps. But I really liked it. Artona pics, going out to eat, everything. They’re all precious memories. I think 17 was a really happy year for you.

18 was a very special age to you, and it’s a very special age to me now. It was a year of transition. Officially, you became an adult. You were old enough to vote. You graduated high school, and you moved to university. It was a new start into your adulthood, although it didn’t feel so much like adulthood and felt more like “what-the-hell-am-I-doing-hood”. A lot happened at 18.

At 18, you finished your last month of high school. Honestly, it was the best month of high school. You went to prom, you spent lots of time with your friends, had many new experiences. You graduated high school, and on the last day when you were getting your yearbook signed, you saw a lot of classmates for the last time. A lot of people you realized you would no longer have any reason to see anymore. After graduating high school, you and your friends went on a grad trip. You went to Korea and Taiwan with them, and later to Shanghai by yourself. It was the best summer. It’s one that I think I will always look back on. A trip representing youth. I miss it a lot.

You then moved to Toronto to go to University. In high school, you were always excited by the thought of University. You looked forward to the independence, being able to go out with friends late at night, and being in downtown Toronto, where it was easy to go anywhere. But you remember right? You were so scared when you first moved. You cried on the first night. Some time throughout the year you cried many times. You missed home. You missed the comfort of being in a city you knew. It was hard. You were also shy, and had a hard time making new friends. I want to tell you that it’s okay. It’s okay to cry and miss home, it’s okay to feel lonely. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.

And then covid-19 hit and you got sent home. And things started getting weird.

And this is where I am now. It’s May 19, 10:30pm and I’m trying to finish this letter before midnight hits.

This year was definitely special, not just for me but for the whole world. I spent the entirety of being 19 stuck in this pandemic. (I truly hope things can go back to normal soon.)

19 was definitely a tough year, and I really struggled a lot. With school being online, I found it hard to stay focused and motivated, and I fell behind a lot. I felt isolated. My mental health really plummeted, and I think it was lower than it has ever been in my life. I cried a lot, I was sad a lot, I thought about death a lot. It was a dark time, especially in the first half. I felt lonely a lot too.

I think I started to get a bit better with a bit of time, and I was able to carry on with a schedule. I’ve been happier, but I’ve also been sadder. This year just seemed to pass by, with days bleeding into each other. School scares me, and the future scares me. It’s hard to think that in less than 2 years I will be graduating and moving even further into adulthood. I’m so scared. I don’t think I can handle the responsibilities, and I don’t think I can manage everything, and I feel overwhelmed just thinking about it. I’m scared of growing up. I’m really scared.

Going into my twenties, I’m scared of so many things that lie ahead. My teen years have always felt like they were supposed to represent my youth. Leaving that behind and walking into what seems like a completely new world is scary. But I hope I can learn to trust myself just a little bit more.

Good luck...

From,

19 year old Jessica

#jess writes

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servalias · 4 years

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Magia Record ED Analysis

bAs someone heavily invested in Yachiyo and who has watched the ED many times since its release, I figured I’d go ahead and do a full analysis of it and how it relates to Yachiyo as a character as well as her arc. This analysis is made assuming the anime remains largely the same as the game wrt Yachiyo, and it’s by no means definitive, simply my own personal interpretation. Heavy spoilers ahead of course, especially for Chapter 6 and Mifuyu’s side story. Anyone that cares about spoilers and hasn’t at least played through Chapter 6 of the game would do well not to read this until they’ve either done that or watched through the corresponding section of the anime after it’s aired, but otherwise, read on.

Right off the bat we have a shot of the moon being reflected in Yachiyo’s eyes. Yachiyo is a character very heavily associated with the moon, and this shot serves to reinforce that association.

Yachiyo then blinks and when she opens her eyes the moon’s no longer being reflected in them and we get a more zoomed out shot of her laying down in a puddle and it appears to be lightly raining. Water/rain is yet another thing Yachiyo gets frequently associated with, likely due to its association with sadness, since in Magia Record Yachiyo is initially a very sad, lonely person, something that is very heavily conveyed throughout the course of the ED.

The shot finishes with having Yachiyo smile, notably the only time we see her smile in the entire ED.

This is followed by some shots of real world Tokyo and then shots of Yachiyo walking through a rainy real world Tokyo. These show that Yachiyo’s a woman all alone in a big city, and the rain reinforces Yachiyo’s rain/water association.

We then get a shot of a flashing elevator button as we transition to the next segment of the ED, as segment I like to call the “elevator sequence”.

This segment alternates between shots of Yachiyo in a white dress in an elevator and scenes of a shadowed Yachiyo strutting and striking poses, all in front of a stylistic city background whose colors slowly shift. These bits between the elevator shots are meant to represent Yachiyo modeling, as Yachiyo works as a fashion model and her modeling career was the reason she even became a magical girl in the first place.

Now, for the main meat of the “elevator sequence”, the elevator shots themselves. The elevator is a metaphor for Yachiyo’s life as a magical girl, each elevator shot representing a different important stage of her life as one, with the red rapidly increasing floor number representing the number of days she’s been a magical girl and the seven lights at the top represent her seven years as a magical girl. Since only one light is lit in this shot, it represents Yachiyo when she was just starting out as a magical girl, she’s sitting in a school chair and she’s looking a little anxious, probably because she’s still new to this whole thing.

The next elevator shot here represents Yachiyo at 14 years old, in her third year as a magical girl. We see Yachiyo looking up as if thinking about something, before shaking her head and looking down. What happened that year that’s significant? Well, Yachiyo and Mifuyu would write each other letters once a year from the time they became magical girls, to act as a sort of will in case either of them died. In Mifuyu’s side story, one of said letters we get to see is from when Yachiyo was 14. (Note that Yachiyo’s age is only mentioned in the Japanese version, for the English localization they changed it to a vague “since my birthday” for some reason) In this letter, Yachiyo mentions she’s realized she likes someone, but doesn’t know what to do. Due to her nature as a magical girl she isn’t sure if she could be with someone at all, even if her crush likes her back. But even still, she wrote a letter to her crush because she doesn’t want to pretend she never had these feelings. She’s unsure whether or not she should have Mifuyu deliver this letter in the case of her death, since getting a letter from a dead girl could be seen as unkind. She ends the letter by asking Mifuyu what she would do. This shot in the ED is meant to convey the uncertainty Yachiyo was feeling during that time.

After a couple more poses, she then curls up into this position, showcasing her anguish and despair. Not even modeling brings her happiness anymore. I feel like now is a relevant time to bring up the description from her “As a Fashion Model” Memoria, which states: "Whenever I wonder why I keep on modeling, I remember that my life as a Magical Girl started from here. If I were to quit, why, that would render everything: all the trials and tribulations, all the miseries and joys, rather pointless."

We then get another elevator shot. From the 5 lights lit up, we can tell this is representing her 5th year as a magical girl, when she was 16 years old. This was the year Kanae died, hence why she looks kind of sad in this shot. We can also see the screen start to fill with water here, the water representing Yachiyo’s sadness and loneliness.

Our next shot has the shadowed Yachiyo running across the screen as the water continues to rise.

We then get another elevator shot as the water fills up past halfway. All seven lights are lit, so this represents her 7th year as a magical girl, when she was 18 years old, the year Mel died and she decided to breakup the team because she thought her wish was causing her friends to sacrifice themselves for her, hence why she appears to be crying in this shot. Also of note is that the school chair from the previous elevator shots has been replaced by one of the chairs from Mikazuki Villa.

After a flickering of lights and a shot of the elevator button again, we get a shot of the elevator again but the chair is now empty and the water in the background has now completely filled the screen.

We then get Yachiyo sinking in the water, metaphorically drowning in her own sorrows.

We get a closer shot of Yachiyo sinking with a film reel overlay as the screen gradually becomes monochromatic, and Yachiyo cries into her hands before we get quick flashes of a few images, which I’ll go over, individually, but overall it shows how Yachiyo is a “prisoner of the past”, as she puts it herself in episode 5.

First we have some photos next to Yachiyo’s mug, symbolizing Yachiyo’s sentimental nature, which she primarily expresses through mugs, buying mugs for each new friend she makes and even keeping the mugs of friends no longer in her life as something to remember them by.

Then we have this letter, which is the letter Yachiyo wrote to Mifuyu about her crush, showing that Yachiyo has Mifuyu on the brain.

Next we get an empty white hospital bed, symbolizing death, something that has been a major source of trauma for Yachiyo, losing not only her grandmother who raised her, but most significantly her friends Mel and Kanae, and her guilt over their deaths weighs heavily on her.

Next are some flowers, which I’m not entirely certain the meaning of because I’m not familiar with flower language, but someone who is will probably be able to tell me in the comments.

Next we have what appear to be some ledgers, perhaps a list of boarding house residents or something like that?

And here we have a cake that says “Happy Birthday Yachan”, meaning it must be from Mifuyu, and the 18 candles mean this was from Yachiyo’s 18th birthday. I love how the Y is just below the A because she ran out of room, it’s so very Mifuyu. Anyway this cake again reinforces that Yachiyo has Mifuyu on the brain. Mifuyu is a very important character for Yachiyo as her main goal throughout Magia Record is to find Mifuyu and bring her home, and as mentioned in the last letter to Mifuyu in Mifuyu’s side story, Yachiyo considered Mifuyu a real partner and even after cutting off everyone else because she thought her wish was killing them, she still wanted to stick with Mifuyu to the end.

We then get Yachiyo surfacing and reaching for the moon, reinforcing her moon association and showing that despite everything Yachiyo still yearns for a better life, and an escape from her sorrow and loneliness.

The shot transitions into a shot of Yachiyo under a black umbrella, and then the op ends with Yachiyo walking while carrying a white umbrella on her arm. This bit is notable because it can be seen as a prequel to the bit in the OP where Yachiyo helps up Iroha (she’s even carrying a white umbrella in that part too), so the umbrella is presumably for her. As the protagonist to Yachiyo’s deuteragonist, Iroha is very important to Yachiyo arc, particularly in Chapter 6 where she defeats the Memory Museum Uwasa by herself even though Yachiyo’s certain Iroha’s just going to end up another friend that sacrificed themselves for her, giving Yachiyo a chance to believe that maybe her wish isn’t killing everyone she loves, which is what ultimately allows Yachiyo to be able to move on and be happy again.

#magia record spoilers #magia record #madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #magireco #yachiyo nanami #nanami yachiyo #analysis

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copperhawks · 4 years

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Asexual Constant and why he means the World to me: Part 1

Constant didn’t see why that made a difference. How were Sav and Don’s heart troubles any different from Constant’s heart troubles when Daine was missing, or when he saw Sav sad for their dead parents, or when he felt lonely and lost? All those things hurt his heart. They were big too, they mattered too.

There are a few signs early on that Constant is asexual/aromantic/aspec, but in chapters 18 and 19, this becomes pretty explicit.

First, is this piece of internal musing from Constant in chapter 18.

Daine tells him that Sav often gets really mean when he’s “heartsore” and Constant can’t understand why. He says that HE doesn’t get mean while he’s “heartsore” so why would Sav. All Daine offers is that it’s “different.”

And to be honest, even without the asexuality, Constant’s RIGHT. There are obviously differences in how platonic love, familial love, and romantic love express themselves and how they effect people and their relationships. But the INTENSITY of each love can be entirely equal. The love you feel for your mother, your best friend, and your romantic partner can all be the exact same level of intensity.

Sav’s meanness when he’s heartsore over Don isn’t explicitly due to it being of a romantic nature. It’s far more complex than that, relating to how his relationship to Don even came about, what their relationship was outside to it becoming romantic, and what it’s become since both of those relationships ended. It has a lot more to do with what Sav thinks of himself and how his relationships to Don have shaped that. His relationship to Don is COMPLICATED, to say the least, even before the green hair and unsuccessful exile. His meanness over it stems from that complexity, not just because it’s romantic.

Constant’s confusion over is just so intensely relatable to someone who grew up not really getting the whole Thing over romance, at least in real life. I had no problems watching rom coms and reading books with romance in them and got really excited when two characters who were clearly feeling feelings for each other finally were allowed to kiss. But in real life? Was I supposed to be DOING something to acquire those feelings or were they just supposed to come to me? Were the feelings I had when I was around my friends potentially romantic or not? Had I ever felt it and I just didn’t know what it was, so it had passed me by?

Figuring out you’re ace, for me, meant living in a world of constant (ha) confusion for a while and just... having to play act for a while until a few things came across my attention on social media and helped me understand what asexuality even meant and the variations that came within it etc etc.

Asexuality isn’t a thing that’s really ever DISCUSSED and it certainly never made its way into media I had available growing up as a child. I read Tamora Pierce books where everyone had a love interest they got together with at the end and possibly multiple love interests within one series. The one person who didn’t end up with someone still had crushes she could identify as crushes and slept with one of them before she was 18, all experiences I couldn’t really say that I had. So even though Kel has now been WOG’d as aroace, when I first read her series, she still fell into the same molds as the other Pierce characters had. And I mean, I didn’t have the WORDS to even be able to headcanon her as asexual/aromantic back then, so it just seemed progressive for her not to end up with anyone by the end of the novel, but that we were supposed to assume that, within a few years, she probably would, once she found the right person.

At no point does she have thoughts like the ones Constant expresses above, at least, not that I can remember. She doesn’t really question sex or romance, though she arguably has somewhat less of it than Alanna or Daine did during their books.

And it’s CONSTANT that gets me.

Hard.

Because wow do those words hit home for me. He’s not naive, or ignorant, he just... doesn’t get it. Because he doesn’t feel the same way, he can’t feel the DIFFERENCE between the different loves he’s felt for various people in his life. One is not arguably stronger than another unless he just... knows them a little better or has spent more time with them. But he’d probably say that he loves Daine and Sav equally even though, from what we know of Sav and Daine’s early lives, he’s probably spent far more time with Daine than he has with Sav.

And I just... when this chapter was published and I read those words, I think I melted. I felt like crying a little. I feel like crying now as I write this and this is gonna become a whole ass rambling essay about why I love asexual Constant so much.

I’ve seen a few pieces of media as I’ve gotten older that include asexual characters explicitly (the Shadowhunters TV show and the book Belle Revolte are two that immediately come to mind) but it’s by no means a long list and aside from Shadowhunters, none of them are mainstream. I hope that some kid somewhere was watching the episode where Raphael Santiago confesses that he’s asexual and the woman he’s in a relationship with (who is NOT asexual) listens politely and accepts him for who he is and gives him a hug at the end. They break up eventually, but it’s not because of his asexuality. I hope that kid heard Raphael Santiago talk about how he felt and went “oh wow, that’s exactly how I feel, it’s A REAL THING.” I wish I’d been able to BE that kid.

Asexuality is becoming more widely known among the LGBTQ+ community and within online fandoms and it’s not hard to find headcanons that see characters from popular media as ace/aro/aroace/aspec. And it is showing up in some queer YA media (see earlier example of Belle Revolte as well as Samantha Shannon’s Bone Season series). And that’s GREAT, it’s so awesome to see knowledge of this sexuality becoming more commonplace because it means more and more exposure to people who might not otherwise have a way to figure out what their feelings even MEAN.

Constant is not alone, by any means. But I think it almost means MORE to me that he’s an original character than if one of the canon characters had been made into an aspec character (which is a completely valid choice!), partially because... I didn’t expect it. At all. I didn’t expect to click the link for Chapter 18 and see my own mid to late teen years reflected back at me in one short paragraph. I didn’t expect to see it in a 14 year old boy whose main passion in life is hawks.

Constant and I don’t necessarily share a LOT in common: I do not have a passion for hawks (though I think they are wonderful and beautiful animals), both of my parents are very much alive and I know that they love me, I am not a younger child, I was not born to a specific responsibility of leadership I know I’ll one day have to take over.

But in this, we are reflections of each other. In a way I don’t know that I had ever felt reflected by a character before. He makes me cry. A lot.

Dee, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for Constant. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to truly adequately explain what he means to me. But thank you. He means the world to me.

#tamora pierce #tortall #the immortals #the immortals quartet #daine au lb #constant de hartholm #asexuality #long post

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dear-wormwoods · 5 years

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–> Playlist: Richie Tozier Tells the Truth <–

I said I would maybe post this today and here I am! Posting something when I said I would! Cutting it close though.

So this playlist is like... Richie’s life if everything in the story stayed the same except that Reddie actually happened (so it’s heavily Reddie themed, but this playlist narrative does still include Eddie dying... just fyi). There’s an accompanying Eddie playlist that mirrors this one, but I’m not sure I’m 100% satisfied with the order of things so I won’t post it tonight.

Detailed explanations underneath. Spoiler alert: shit gets depressing.

1. The Barrens: I like starting my playlists with instrumental tracks or something that has limited vocals, and so this was a perfect fit. Moses the Band has an EP that is all about IT, but I’ll have a lot more to say about one I put on the Eddie list. But uh, this does tie in with the final song, Birch Tree, for Reasons.

2. I’m Good: Richie is super insecure but simultaneously really confident in his interests and abilities, so this is equal parts him actually feeling good about where he’s at and him just trying to convince himself he is. There’s also a good bit in there about being there for his friends.

3. Talk Too Much: Self explanatory. Richie talks too much. But this song is also supposed to kind of fit his Eddie flirtation in their youth - that it’s all meant to come off as teasing, but there’s a secret undertone of seriousness there.

4. Best Friend: For once he stops fucking around and actually admits to himself that he has real feelings for Eddie and it’s not a joke. He wants to say something but doesn’t want to ruin their friendship, the classic trope.

5. The Less I Know the Better: This song is less literal, but in this context it’s about Richie knowing that Eddie has an idolization crush on Bill and not wanting to know if something is really happening there. He wants to get over his own feelings, but still wishes that Eddie (my love) would look at him that way instead.

6. Rules Don’t Stop: The recklessness anthem. This is after something does happen between him and Eddie, but he’s trying to play it off like it’s less serious than he wants it to be because he’s scared, and knows that Eddie has internal conflict about what they’re doing.

7. American Money: This one is very much like that idealized vision of teenage love, where everything is new and exciting and feels eternal. This is that brief moment of perfect teen Reddie with love confessions and plans to run away together and all of that good stuff... before life separates them and their families move out of Derry.

8. Float On: This is when Richie is about to move and is reassuring Eddie that they’ll be fine. Life will go on but they won’t stay apart, everything will be okay. He’s optimistic about continuing their lives together after a year or two of separation, but...

9. Time to Pretend: Now this is the point where Richie’s memories start to really fade. After he moves out to California and starts to get involved in TV/comedy/whatever he ends up doing, he gets pretty easily caught up in that fake, desperate, pseudo-celebrity lifestyle where he’s living way beyond his means and making bad decisions, taking nothing seriously, etc.

10. Silvertongue: As he’s growing more successful, he’s realizing just how much of asset his ability to talk his way into/out of shit really is. He’s gaining notoriety, making money, fucking around and breaking hearts, and still making bad decisions.

11. While I’m Alive: At this point, Richie is starting to feel lonely. He’s not making emotional connections with anyone, and something is missing. So at this point he’s living life in the moment, embracing his vices, and neither thinking ahead nor dwelling on the past.

12. Rest My Chemistry: I think that during his adult life, Richie would dabble too much in the party scene. The book says he’s done cocaine “a few times”, but I think it’d be much more of a Thing if he actually had Eddie at one point and then lost him, but doesn’t remember the relationship - just the emptiness it left behind. The “you’re so young” parts of this song reflect, in this context, Richie sort of remembering Eddie when he’s high - in his mind, he sees Eddie’s face as it was when he last saw him, but he doesn’t remember who this person is at all.

13. I Have Made Mistakes: This is the “post phone call” song. At this point, Mike has called the Losers back, and Richie is starting to remember the past. He’s recognizing that he has to go face his fears and reconnect with his past, but he’s not sure how he and Eddie’s reunion will go.

14. Strangers to Ourselves: After coming back to Derry and initially reuniting with the other Losers, it becomes clear that the amnesia has affected them all and they’re really strangers now, having lived entire lives without knowing each other. It’s a bittersweet reunion.

15. Press Rewind: This is like, the Richie Walking Tour song. It’s pretty self explanatory, since Richie is probably the Loser who is most aware that he has experienced a freaky regression since returning to Derry, feeling like a kid again and assuming his same role in the group.

16. Simple Song: Richie and Eddie finally get some alone time that night and reconnect, things get emotional, Richie is finally able to voice how serious his feelings were when they were younger. They reminisce about the days when they were together, look back on all the years they lost being separated, and start making promises that they’ll stay together when all this is over.

17. No One’s Gonna Love You: This is the point at which shit starts to go south. They’re headed into the sewers, and the reality of this high risk situation is setting in. Thinking that he might really die down there, Richie expresses his feelings again and his remorse that they weren’t able to spend their lives together. (Sidenote: the torn limb bit at the beginning of this song was a TOTAL accident I’m so sorry lmao, it’s too meta)

18: Carry You: So this is when Eddie dies. While he’s dying, Richie is trying to provide comfort and make him smile, all while making futile promises that they’ll get out of this and everything will be okay. Extra added layer of irony because Richie isn’t actually able to like... y’know... carry him out of the darkness.

19. Afterlife: This song is symbolic of what I was talking about in one of my other posts, about how Richie is eager to return to his life and forget about Derry and everyone. This is him sort of partly in denial (can we work it out?), partly enraged (scream and shout), and partly asking the universe if it’s actually possible to be okay now. He bounces back and forth trying to process his sudden grief over someone he’d forgotten about for 20+ years, knowing, and hoping, that he’ll be able to bury these memories too. When love is gone, where does it go? Where do we go? In the end, he accepts that going forward will mean that living will be its own brand of afterlife. Nothing lasts forever. (Too meta: this song contains the words dead lights)

20. Birch Tree: So this song is like... meant to be this sort of uplifting epilogue, because Richie does move on with his life, and the memories do fade. He doesn’t fear death anymore, but he’s not sure why. Time will go by, life will fade, and that’s okay now. There is this lovely imagery of the old hometown, Derry, and the river, the Kenduskeag flowing through the Barrens. He’ll go back there, to where he was happiest, when mortality does catch up to him. Eddie will meet him there, and they’ll finally have all the time in the world.

#stephen king's IT #richie tozier #reddie #it meta #my meta #my playlists #music #meta #tozier tea #richiecore #it hcs #my shit #top tier #reddiecore

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agirlinjapan · 5 years

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Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars (Week 33)

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

Miss the last piece? Read it here!

Check out the RDG Translation twitter!

Help me pay for my next translation project on Ko-fi.

Wow! We’re so close to the end here! Just two more installations after this one and we’ll be done!

Translation notes

Near the beginning of this week’s installation, Izumiko drives past Kumano Hongu Taisha. This is a famous Shinto shrine.

While driving through Japan’s countryside, it’s not unusual to find rest stops that specialize in local goods and produce. They’re always worth stopping at! You can find great stuff at really reasonable prices.

-10 degrees Celsius is equal to 14 degrees Fahrenheit.

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 4: Mizuho Part 3 (1 of 3)

Izumiko returned to Mt. Tamakura with Yukariko.

It was difficult to say how Yukariko had worked this out with her job. Maybe she was acting as Izumiko’s guard. However, she showed no signs of this as they headed towards Haneda Airport. Instead, she simply acted like a normal parent. Izumiko hadn’t walked together with her mother like this since she had been about four years old.

Miyuki hadn’t changed his plans, choosing to stay in Tokyo with Yukimasa as he had said he would. Still, Izumiko couldn’t have wished for anything better than having the chance to travel with Yukariko. She was grateful for the opportunity to tell her mother everything Mizuho had said. If she hadn’t been able to share what had happened so quickly, the story would have welled up inside of her like pus until it consumed her. As Yukariko was both someone involved in the event and the listener, she was happy to take in every tiny detail. As a result, it was the first time in a long while where a conversation they shared could not be called awkward.

When Izumiko told Yukariko how Mizuho had said she could stop Izumiko’s abilities, Yukariko was clearly shocked.

“She chose to say that in an attempt to trick you. She wanted to persuade you of what she might be capable of because she thought you wouldn’t be able to fight back against her that way. Mizuho wouldn’t have been able to control you long term though. She probably just said it to keep you quiet.”

Izumiko let her head droop, feeling relieved. “I think I’m too easily persuaded into believing what people tell me. I guess I’m just gullible.”

“There are times when people are easily persuaded into things, but that’s not always a bad thing.”

“But I got tricked into thinking that Dad knew about going to Hong Kong. There are bad parts about being easily persuaded too, aren’t there?”

“In the case of Mizuho, Daisei wasn’t connected to what was going on at all. That was guaranteed to trick you. I keep a close eye on everything Daisei does.” As they sat next to each other on the chairs in the gate waiting area, Yukariko smiled. “After all this, being gullible is a problem you will have only had in the past. Going forward, I doubt you’ll be tricked into anything again.”

Izumiko unconsciously wrapped her fingers around her braids. “So, can I change my hairstyle now?”

“Hair is said to be a source of spiritual power,” Yukariko said, somehow sounding like Yukimasa. She took one of her daughter’s braids and examined it. “My biggest wish hasn’t come true just yet. Keep these the way they are for just a little longer. I can’t say your abilities are stable quite yet and—”

Yukariko paused.

Izumiko looked curiously at her mother. “And what?”

“And Miyuki thinks your braids are cute.”

Izumiko pulled back in surprise.

“You’re lying.”

Chuckling, Yukariko said, “Yes, I’m lying. I’m the one who thinks they’re cute.”

There was nothing Izumiko could do about her red face and so she made herself as small as possible instead. Still, it felt unusual to have this sort of discussion with Yukariko. It didn’t feel like they hadn’t talked in a long time. Now that they were getting close again, Izumiko could tell that Yukariko was a playful person, but she had already known that somehow.

Oh right. The goddess…

She agreed with what Miyuki had said. Yukariko was certainly a lot like the goddess.

When Izumiko and Yukariko left Nanki Shirahama Airport in the Kii Peninsula, Shingo Nonomura was there to pick them up in his car. It took more than three hours to drive across the prefecture to Mt. Tamakura, but Izumiko was much happier that he had come all this way for them instead of having them take a helicopter. She was overcome with relief to be back home.

Yukariko seemed happy as well.

“Thank you, Mr. Nonomura. As long as you’re driving, we can stop somewhere on the way so that I can get you something good.”

Seeming pleased, Mr. Nonomura looked over at Yukariko and smiled.

“Sawa’s already making a huge feast.”

“I know that. I was thinking more along the lines of some good local sake for you to take home.”

While she said that, Yukariko ended up buying more than just sake when they stopped. This was a new experience for Izumiko who had never stopped at a roadside local specialty store before. It was also unusual to be entering a store with her mother.

While driving, they passed Kumano Hongu Taisha, a major Shinto shrine, and followed a road north that ran next to the Kumano River for some time. The temperature was always mild in the Kii Peninsula, but it was still negative ten degrees Celsius. While the roads didn’t tend to freeze entirely in December, once January came around, there would be plenty of times when it became impossible to drive all the way up to the top of the mountains.

In the winter, Tamakura Shrine was isolated from the people who lived at the base of the mountain and became a lonely place. Being away after so long, Izumiko savored the cold, clear, crisp smell of the top of the mountain. However, with their arrival, the connection that had formed between mother and daughter quietly lessened a bit. All the people who worked at the shrine had come up for the occasion and now they were surrounded by people.

Takeomi and Sawa came out to greet them, their expressions relaxed. Izumiko had heard plenty of stories about how Yukariko and her father, Takeomi, hadn’t gotten along well, but after Yukariko had entrusted Izumiko to the shrine and had left for Tokyo, Izumiko had barely seen them fight when her mother had come home for her brief visits. This was because during her rare returns, she always went out drinking with him and they were both impressive drinkers.

The evening meal on the night of their return was indeed impressive enough to be called a feast. There was drinking and singing and Izumiko, too, ate to her heart’s content and spent as long as she could with the people who had come to see her and Yukariko. Still, there was a limit to how long she could sit with people who were drinking so much.

Why is Mom so popular with everyone?

No matter how she looked at it, it was plain to see that all the people who worked at the shrine had come so as not to miss an opportunity to be with Yukariko. However, Yukariko, with sake in her cup, was not like any other woman Izumiko knew, and she acted as if she didn’t care at all. To Izumiko, her mother was cruder than she was charming, but it was obvious that people liked her anyway.

I wonder if I’ll ever wish I’m more like Mom…

Thinking that she had a long way to go before she was ever like her mother, Izumiko went up to her room. There was a lot to think about when it came to the connection between the goddess, Yukariko, and her, but she was too tired for that now. The noise from downstairs didn’t bother her as she slipped off into sleep.

~*~

Yukariko’s return home was short. The next morning, she received a work call and a helicopter came to bring her back that afternoon.

“Mom, you really don’t get a lot of time off.”

“Well, there isn’t much time between one incident that requires my attention and the next.”

Izumiko felt disappointed as she sat at the table with her mother as Yukariko ate breakfast. It might have been the late morning, but Yukariko was still wearing the yukata she had slept in. She had already finished Sawa’s miso soup and was now leaning back in her chair as it digested.

“I really wanted to see you off to school myself this time. I know that Mizuho was able to take you because I wasn’t there for you. How could I not know it?” she said, her voice gentle. “So, I need a break. That arrest did not feel good…”

Yukariko usually wore a lot of makeup, but seeing as it hadn’t been long since she had woken up and she hadn’t put any on yet, her skin looked a little plain in the morning light. Izumiko liked this side of her mother more than the one she had seen the night before. Her eyes were downcast and she was calm as she quietly chose her words.

Still, it was clear that she was suffering from a hangover.

“Mom… Are you okay?”

“My head is pounding.”

Yukariko groaned and then made her way carefully to take a bath. Izumiko let out an unconscious sigh. Just like that, she had barely gotten any time to talk with her mother. It was always like this.

However, the Yukariko who came out of the bath had recovered from her hangover surprisingly quickly. Her hair was already dry, and she was dressed and made up perfectly. She invited Izumiko on a walk.

The fog had cleared up early that day, but it was still a winter day and the weather reflected that. Izumiko and her mother walked through the cold under the tall pine trees and the other trees who had all since dropped their fall colored leaves to the ground. In this season where the usual green thickets had disappeared, there were now unusual boulders to be seen around Tamakura Shrine. The two of them walked past many of them as if greeting old friends.

“A sacred stone…” Yukariko said, running a hand across a bare stone face. “The Japanese people of old used to think the gods dropped special stones from the sky. The gods were said to have picked up these stones from incredibly hot places deep down in the earth. You could tell which stones were from the gods by touching them. That’s all because Japan is in a volcanic zone, and volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and hot springs gushing from the earth are all regular occurrences here. That’s what I think at least.”

“In other words, you think the gods are the magma inside the earth?” Izumiko asked her mother in surprise. She’d never heard anyone say that before.

Yukariko gave her daughter a tiny smile.

“In other words, stones are made of minerals. They’re the furthest things from life forms and while we think of them as hard and unmoving, they also make up the core of the earth. Long before there was life on the planet, stones were moving beneath it. Most likely, that’s the earth’s true destiny and organic lifeforms are just a small part of what’s happening here. You know those first organisms that crawled up onto the surface of the earth are distant relatives of everything walking under the sun today. That fact makes me happy. Gods are the true essence of happiness. Most likely, so is the goddess.

Izumiko gazed at the boulder in front of them.

“Happiness. That’s a good thing...”

“Life invites good and evil. But for that very reason, it’s right to appreciate fear. No matter what a living thing does, the gods will bring about a bad outcome. Even so, it’s right to pray for the strength to respect the fear that comes with the outcome.”

The perfectly clear air at the top of the mountain was cold even in the bright sunlight. In the silence of the open space where they stood, Yukariko’s voice sounded flat with nothing to reverberate off of. It sounded smaller than Izumiko had ever heard it before.

“The ancient ascetic monks walked on the mountains they had devoted themselves to, training in their ascetic ways, and knew the stones around them better than anyone else. They would burn sacred sticks to ask for the gods’ blessings.—They worked with fire as well. They also learned how to refine metal. They knew where deposits of metal were and could take gold, silver, and mercury from the ground. At that time in society, people were suspicious of this knowledge and treated the people who had learned these skills like frauds.

“Traces of this lifestyle still live on in today’s ascetic monks. The goddess is capable of the same connection to the past. She can see those ascetic monks in the distant past and learn from their experiences. When the goddess’s true nature is misjudged, the gods’ purity falls victim to human suspicion. Such are the lives of humans. It’s sad, but it happens so easily.”

Not looking at her mother, Izumiko asked quietly, “What should I do? How much should I hate being born into a life like this? How much do you hate it? I’ve been wanting to ask you those things for a long time now.”

Yukariko was quiet for a minute, but then she let out a loud laugh.

“You’re still not looking beyond yourself. For the time being, go out and live a little more. Expand your point of view. When you look further, inside and out, you won’t just find good things. You’ll probably find things you don’t like. Ugly things. But if you don’t let them frighten you, you’ll find things about yourself that you can’t even imagine now. Not discovering those things would be a waste of living your life.”

“Have you discovered those things, Mom? Are you happy with the way you are and with working in public safety?”

“I don’t regret having you. That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? I’m strong because you make me so.”

Izumiko looked at Yukariko in frustration. Her words felt empty as if she was saying them just to placate her.

“Are you strong enough not to be afraid of the goddess’s future? I’m definitely not strong enough for that.”

Yukariko’s manner changed at the emotion in Izumiko’s voice. When she looked at Izumiko this time, her expression was honest. Her eyes narrowed and she said softly, “If you’re talking about becoming a World Heritage Candidate, you’re right to be apprehensive. During my time with the goddess, I’ve tried to direct all such outcomes in a positive direction. Of course, no one can determine the future and in the end, it all comes down to what you decide. When it comes down to it though, there are the things I was able to do and the things the goddess was able to accomplish for the sake of the future. You know, your going to Houjou Academy is a new development in the goddess’s existence. It’s a place the goddess of the past has never seen before. You’ll be able to find new possibilities going forward.”

“…So, all the people I’ve met at Houjou Academy are new to the goddess too?”

Yukariko crossed her arms and then reached out to take one of her daughter’s braids in her hand. She ran the tip of her finger down it. Until now, the only other person who had made that searching gesture had been the goddess while she had been possessing her. It was so much like what she had done.

“That’s right. Even with those student’s you’ve met at school, your destiny is already slipping away from the futures I’ve experienced. The you in your braids now is a new person. A new me. A new you. We’re unique from anyone else on this planet. But isn’t that to be expected?”

“If I’m a new person, can I change the destruction in the future?” She took a breath and asked, “How can I change it?”

Yukariko smiled but then shook her head slowly.

“Don’t ask me that. You have to look for the new answers yourself. The path to those answers is spread out in front of you. Most likely, my own power will run out before you find them. But I take pride in the part I’ve played. And that feeling is nothing special. Everyone takes hold of their destiny and walks a path towards making what they want a reality.”

The way her mother spoke, Izumiko wondered if she was talking about the goddess. Still, she got the sense that it was okay if she couldn’t distinguish between the two. Her mother, the goddess… all the people in their lineage stretching all the way back had a wish—a wish to give people a better future—and that was what they strove for. For thousands of years, this was all the goddess had wanted for humankind.

Keep reading!

#rdg #red data girl #rdg 6 #rdg 6 week 33 #translation #rdg my wish on the night of the shooting stars

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lifehackstips · 4 years

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Nineteen Different Ways To Be Kind To Yourself Today

Hello, look, I get it. Occasionally, I need it to. The world can be an extreme and unforgiving spot. It can push the most grounded individual to the brink of collapse and make them wish they never got up again. It's quick-paced and doesn't stop when somebody falls behind. Rather, it just leaves them there. It's difficult to remain persuaded and harder to get spurred.

You and I both realize that life can get overpowering at the distracted pace it works at. You even feel like you don't have a clue taking be thoughtful to yourself any longer. Try not to stress. We've all been there.

Simply a week ago, I ended up in that definite spot. Rather than pounding myself, I made a rundown of things that I've done in the past to get myself. In case you're available, I need to impart that rundown to you.

Here are 19 different ways to be benevolent to yourself today.

1. Schedule-in explicit time for personal time.

Open the schedule on your telephone and push aside all exercises on a day of your decision. Take whatever day you have picked and done the things that you need to do and not need to do. There is a distinction. Life is too small to even think about filling the schedule with gatherings, deals calls, and occasions. Have a go at filling it with things you appreciate as well.

2. Call in wiped out

On the off chance, you've done the abovementioned and looked through your schedule yet can't discover a day, phone in debilitated. Be certain not to tell anybody yet you're a manager that you're doing it, however. Deciding to tell different nullifies the point since they will need your consideration. If it's not too much hard take this day for yourself and do precisely what it is that you need to do.

3. Treat yourself

Keep it inside your methods yet treat yourself to something that brings you enormous euphoria. You buckle down for your cash, and as much as every one of the specialists exhort against it, proceed to invest some of it. Purchase whatever makes you feel better. On the off chance that it's a comic book, proceed to get one. On the off chance that it's a pedicure, take those shoes off and plunk down. It doesn't make a difference what it is, simply proceed to get it.

4. Believe in yourself

At the point when things are as trying as they may be, some of the time, the best game-plan is just to have faith in yourself. Recall what you have done to get where you are and realize that a similar conviction will get you to where you need to go. When you begin to accept once more, advance outside and shout it as uproarious as you so the entire world can hear your conviction.

5. Positive certifications

Give yourself that truly necessary motivational speech. You know the one. The one that starts with "I am extraordinary, and I can do anything I desire" and finishes with "And I know in my heart the entirety of this to be valid." Not just will it change your direction; however, it will likewise radically improve a terrible mindset.

6. Surround yourself

Search out the individuals who hope to engage you and will talk emphatically about you. Jim Rohn is regularly cited as saying "You're The Average Of The Five People You Spend The Most Time With." When life is overpowering, encircle yourself with the individuals who you turn upward to and let them get you. What's more, get you they will. All I ask is that you been there on the day that somebody needs you to get them.

7. Go for a walk

On the off chance that it appears to be straightforward, this is on the grounds that it is. Take a walk. Get out into nature and see the pretty nature. While you're out there, smell the scents, tune in to the sounds, and feel the breeze as it cruises by. Probably the most charming things in life are regularly free and promptly accessible. This is one of them. Gracious, and in case you're truly hoping to treat yourself, do this in the downpour. You'll be staggered by the amount it will transform you.

8. Spend at some point tuning in to music

Music is the all-inclusive language and the mirror into our spirits. Innovation enables you to play the accurate tune you're searching for at the precise minute you're searching for it. Utilize this to further your potential benefit. Keep in mind, and just you recognize what that tune is so felt free to stack it up. From that point, plan to be removed to a spot that lone you know.

9. Read something

In the event that music isn't your thing, no issue. Unplug from the world and twist up with your preferred book. You know the one. The one that you've perused in excess of multiple times and each time that you get it, it's difficult to put down. That one. Get it again and prepare to submerge yourself in a spot dissimilar to your own.

10. Donate to a philanthropy

Nothing discharges a vibe decent synthetic invention very like accomplishing something for another person. Giving will quickly supply you with a portion of serotonin that won't just change your temperament, yet in addition, give you that warm fluffy inclination for quite a long time.

11. Take a snooze

Is there any marvel that the best workers take rests during the day? What's more, I'm not talking CEO. I'm discussing kids and infants. These little individuals are adapting such a great amount on an everyday level that their body directions that they sleep.

On the off chance that you don't exactly accept how a lot of the snooze enables, simply take a gander at how unique they to see the world just previously and directly after a rest. An expression of alert accompanies the snooze, in any case. Be certain that when you alert, you don't feel regretful. It's merited.

12. Look in the mirror and praise who you see

You know similarly just as I do that a commendation goes far. Rather than constantly sending them out into the world, send one into the mirror and watch the reflection light up with merriment.

13. Help out an outsider

Envision how extraordinary the world would be on the off chance that we as a whole treated those that we don't know just like those we do know. Go out and be the model that the world needs. Be benevolent to an outsider. Amazingly, you'll be astonished to find that the individual that you were benevolent to will frequently show proactive kindness to another.

14. Read a diary section from 2 years prior

When was the last time you perused your diary? Is it similarly as frequently as you take a gander at the photos on your telephone? Like the photos that enable access to old recollections, the diary is an incredible instrument of reflection. So feel free to investigate an old diary. Not exclusively will it be enjoyable to find out about yourself from an earlier time; however, it will likewise fill in as a point of reference for how far you've come. Try not to have a diary? Start one today!

15. Have a cheat day where nothing you do matters

In the wellness world, you are eating inadequately once seven days is known as a cheat day. There is nothing amiss with fusing this day into your week after week plan. Quit doing the things that issue (work, cooking, cleaning, and so on) and centre around the things that don't make a difference (seeing the most recent film, perusing a magazine, going through a day in your pyjama's, and so on).

16. Go skydiving

Clearly not for the bluff of heart; however, for those adrenaline junkies, skydiving might be only the treat yourself cure you need. The tension of the take-off combined with the ecstasy of taking off through the skies can't be reproduced anyplace. Anyway long it brings you to glide down to the Earth is along these lines the ideal measure of time to consider life.

17. Book that excursion you've been putting off

Nothing says "treat yourself" very like, at last, reserving that genuinely necessary get-away. It truly doesn't make a difference where you're going similarly as long as you choose to head off to someplace and really book it. Realizing that a get-away is practically around the bend will keep you contemplating the various ways that you can treat yourself once you arrive.

18. Phone somebody and disclose to them the amount they intend to you.

Treating yourself doesn't constantly mean accomplishing something that straightforwardly benefits you. It can mean calling up a companion and letting them know precisely what they intend to you. Envision how it would affect you if, out of nowhere, somebody who you hadn't conversed with as of late rang you to reveal to you how incredible you are. Presently envision what it would accomplish for them. Go do it.

19. Count 10 different ways that your life is astounding

That is it. Straightforward. Only ten different ways. No more. No less. I can't guarantee that these will work for you. What I can guarantee, in any case, is that some of them will. Thus, set aside some effort to do every one of them and make sense of which ones will work for you. After you have that data, each time you see another route as kind to yourself, add it to your rundown. In the end, you'll have a rundown a mile long.

#home & lifestyle #life #life struggles #lifes #lifestlye

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mountphoenixrp · 5 years

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We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Kim Jongin, who is known by no other name; a 25 year old son of Thanatos. He is a bouncer at Minx.

FC NAME/GROUP: kim jongin / exo CHARACTER NAME: n / a AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 14th of january 1994, 25 years old PLACE OF BIRTH: london, united kingdom OCCUPATION: bouncer at minx HEIGHT: 180cm / 6 foot DEFINING FEATURES: one perpendicular to his collarbone (got into a fight that ended up in one of the people slashing his pec open), and a long vertical one on his tibia following a bad fall in sharp bushes.

PERSONALITY: jongin hides himself underneath a layer of ice. though he remains polite and eloquent, he may come across as distant at first, not being one to start a conversation. this layer was made a couple of years ago to protect himself from getting attached. knowing himself well, he prefers to shut away the side of him that wishes to show the world the amount of love he holds within his core - he wishes not to repeat the same mistake twice. however, the ones who manage to break a part of this layer are welcomed by a dorky, attached jongin, a jongin that willingly cracks jokes and radiates positive energy. despite the icy demeanour, the lad hides an attentive and empathetic side of him, reserved to the eyes of those who truly deserve it.

HISTORY: tw: mentions of death, addiction, drugs and alcohol

14 / 01 / 94 : a new arrival.

kim jongin, the first son. the son who received all the attention and adoration of his single mother. the son who’s cries brought tears to swell in love-filled orbs. his mother knew her child would not be like the rest, especially knowing the father who helped create the wide-eyed baby. and yet, she was ready to give him her everything.

years go by rather quickly, and though she’s swarmed by questions of where his father went, his mother remains patient, answering his inquiries with no more than a gentle smile. she was remarried now, womb growing as months went by. a little sister was on the way; another ray of light entering the new recomposed family. and when she was born, jongin was absolutely flabbergasted by her petite demeanour. small hands, tiny feet, closed eyes and a bud-like nose. it was love at first sight.

but why did his mother ask him not to touch the younger? all he wanted was to give her his love, his cuddles and his care. why would he be unable to even hold her hand?

14 / 01 / 00 : the departure.

the new year was spent in tears, despair spreading like wild fire. the arrival of the new millennial sounded exciting, almost exotic, and yet jongin spent the first few weeks in his room, eyes reflecting the emptiness inside of him. he finally understood all those warnings.

at his birth, he was cursed with the power to kill plants and small animals with a single touch, making bigger creatures feel ill and weak. alas, he was never made aware of the condition. one day, whilst his mother and step-father were out and about in the roaring city of london, he decided to play with his sister. at the first touch, he saw her lids getting heavier, noticing the slow movement in her body as she crawled around the carpet. taking her in his arms, he did what he always wished to do; he held her, checked her forehead for fever and panicked as her body was overheating far too quickly. by the time his parents came home, it was too late. her new and fragile immune system was too weak to withstand the power of jongin’s touch.

he was a monster, and nobody could tell him differently.

with his mother entering a dark cycle of grief, the household flew back to seoul, south korea, where she would receive the comfort of her family and the love of her husband. his step-father never understood the occurrence but alas, it was just the beginning of jongin’s worries.

14 / 01 / 06 : the beginning of the end.

jongin had always been a bright little boy, trying to smile through the pain of having murdered his own sibling. however, something changed in him after that day. he feared contact, but something scarier than that was waiting for him to get home every day after school. his mother frequently away, jongin was welcomed by the pungent smell of gin and smoke, his step-father lying on the couch intoxicated.

at first it wasn’t too bad, the male could get away with a small ‘hello’ and lock himself in his room. as days went by, he could feel the resentment residing in the older’s chest, the regrets and the misconceptions piling up with every swig of that bottle he took. it started off with insults, curses and wishes that jongin had never been born. but words turned into hands, insults into smacks, and curses into shoves. by the time his mother came back from a long trip back to her hometown, she discovered her little boy covered in dark bruises, the spark of hope in his orbs dimming. 'it’s fine, mum, it’s just the kids at school!’ he would say every time, fainting a smile.

and thus began his path towards a good friend of his: numbness.

14 / 01 / 12 : the road gets darker.

by the time he reaches his adulthood, the raven haired lad is a mess. barely seen at home, he’s a delinquent. desperate to light up a spark in him, to feel anything, he experimented in life. countless of alcoholic drinks brought him euphoria he had become a stranger to, a dull night becoming a wild ride. those long brown and white sticks his step-father was so upset with gave him a temporary high, until he was introduced to darker substances.

lonely nights became lonelier. every night out ended with a different gal in his bed, until gals became boring. jongin tried inviting guys over, trying out new things in the bedroom, things he enjoyed until he came to a conclusion that all of this brought him nothing but temporary joy. the male hated sleeping around when he had no affinity with the people he brought home.

he had become hopeless. those things that one day made him feel suddenly made his emptiness grow.

14 / 01 / 16 : a helping hand.

when he was first made aware of his mother’s illness, he was finally reconciled with a sentiment, sadness. nobody had been there for him the way his mother was. despite his monstrous self, she loved him like none other had. if anything happened to her, jongin was sure that it would mark the end of him attempting to pursue his life. thankfully, thanatos had almost granted him another chance. though she suffered lots during what seemed like a thousand years, his mother was slowly getting better and for her to heal, she needed her son to heal.

and finally, jongin was given a reason to grow, a reason to get better, his mother.

14 / 01 / ??

today, he lives in mount phoenix, a refuge (almost) for people like him. though the road to recovery has never been a simple one, he keeps his head high, wanting to become the best of himself.

PANTHEON: greek CHILD OF: thanatos POWERS: jongin was made aware of his powers in a dark, gruesome way. he is cursed with the power of killing small living creatures with a simple touch, the larger creatures suffering of symptoms such as lightheadedness, fatigue, dizziness and in worst cases, nausea and faintness. weaker immune systems suffer greater of his touch. the longer he remains touching someone, the larger the effect. thankfully, or unfortunately, he has since been made aware of gloves, most likely wearing them whenever he wishes to touch someone (such as hold their hand) as thick layers of fabric weaken his power.

STRENGTHS: loyal, dedicated, loving, empathetic, convincing, good listener and open minded. WEAKNESSES: sensitive, private, can come across as cold, perfectionist, bottles up, blunt and impatient.

#kpop rp #krp #exo #kim jongin #exo kai #mp; welcome

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doseofdeath-blog · 5 years

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It’s time to be honest and raise awareness.

This is a really hard topic to discuss. I literally took a deep breath before making a huge decision to talk about this. The following story time will be covering some triggering, taboo issues but very crucial to be highlighted in respect of Suicide Prevention Month.

Hello, I’m Alia. It doesn’t matter who has known me longer or for the past 5 seconds ago, I have been very secretive about my struggles. I’ve been so afraid to open up about my battles with my mental health. After a couple of years, I sat down and reflected how it can be unfair for me to not be honest to myself when I’m out here trying to help others. I was not helping myself and I did not want to be get better as if like I didn’t care anymore.

Back in my pre-teen years, body image/self image became a huge concern for me. I was constantly worried about how I looked and my body size especially when one comment was made on the way I looked. Measuring the size of my arm wondering when it can become smaller was one of them. It haunted me for the rest of my life. It still stayed in the back of my mind and I guess it was the start to where I am now.

At 14 years old, I started to fall in love even more with Islam. I wanted to become closer to Allah. Little did I know, I started losing control of myself when I was praying and taking ablution. It became a ritual to make everything become perfect and if I didn’t get it right, I would repeat everything up until an hour plus. I had negative intrusive thoughts of religion and other messed up things that I will never ever feel comfortable to say. I started to become this girl who panicked everytime my mom tried to leave the house even just for a few hours.

This continued until I reached 16 years old. My closest friends started transferring to boarding schools. I have never felt so alone. I started getting really depressed and nobody knew that I went home crying everyday after school. I started to self-harm because that’s the only way to inflict my emotional pain. I hated school and I dreaded the whole year going to school. Every sort of relationship I had just failed. I pushed people away and hid about all the things built up in me. As I was struggling with everything mentioned above, everything was just too much. You know, everything has an end. I finally opened up to my mother about what I’ve been struggling with and convinced her to get help for myself. I needed help because I wasn’t getting any better. I remember how I was completely done with myself. I attempted to kill myself wanting the pain to end. But I didn’t. I just ended up crying and crying until I didn’t feel anything.

I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder by my doctor at 17 years old. My first session was hell. It was hard to tell strangers about what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself. I was prescribed with antidepressants (lexapro) for 2 years straight to treat my anxiety disorder. I stopped taking them towards the end of 2015 because I was just relying too much on antidepressants to feel like I’m on the top of the world. I hated all the doctor’s appointments because I had to be honest and I couldn’t be honest because I was embarrassed of myself. Yes, I was a defaulted patient. I shouldn’t have done that because the side effects really took a toll of my life the following year.

I found love with a boy I was very much in love with the whole time we were in school. Around this time was the time I had my medication withdrawals (lexapro withdrawals). Our relationship didn’t work out because my anxiety went through the roof. I became very toxic. I lost my best friend. It was so hard to cope with it. At that point of time, I had to prepare myself for my final year of law degree in Newcastle. Everything moved so quickly.

I lived on my own that one whole final year. I felt very lonely like how I used to. felt like I was 16 again. It was winter time and my anxiety was severe. I started having random anxiety attacks in campus. at the restaurant. I cried out of nowhere and I am still thankful to this day that my friend, Megan was there through it all. I tried to make myself busy but I just couldn’t. I cried every night. I isolated myself every chance I got. I didn’t wanna see anybody. I had 2 suicide attempts around this time leading up to January 2018. I survived.

I’m still here. Whatever that was going through my brain at that moment was all blank. You don’t think about people who truly love and care about you anymore at that point. All you want is for the pain to end. You wish that it’s easy to just rip it off of your chest. But, I survived and ended up harming myself, just cried and prayed to Allah numerously to make me feel okay again. Talking about it with my best friend definitely helped me not to harm myself further. Never keep it to yourself.

Now, as i’m writing this post... I want the readers to know that I’m not ‘cured’ or ‘I’ve solved the problem’. I still struggle till this day although I can say that I am better than I used to be. Suicidal thoughts come and go especially when I feel very lonely. It’s never been easy but I try to fight it as much as I can. It will be okay. Even though you don’t see the light in the darkness you’re surrounded with right now, it will eventually come. I used to be so so negative and toxic, I wanted to be happy. I hated seeing others happy because I told myself I’ll never be like them. I’m trying to and I can see a little light coming. I tried to surround myself with positive people, messages and try to fix myself on a daily basis.

Cry if you want to. Let it all out. Get professional help. Talk to someone. Don’t keep it to yourself. Someone out there will understand. I got the help that I needed from the people I could trust. I got better. There were some rough patches but those patches made me who I am today. It made me a stronger person. A more understanding, self-reflective person. It made me realize that I need to work on myself too. to give myself a chance to try and not give up on myself.

I’m right here. I understand. Anyone who is going through something... I am willing to listen. I will never judge you because your mental health does not define who you are.

****** for another form of outlet, befrienderskl has a hotline that is open for 24 hours. They’re available to give you emotional support through a phone call or email. https://www.befrienders.org.my/

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thesimplyluxuriouslife · 5 years

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254: 26 Ways to Ensure Happy Singledom at Any Stage of Our Life's Journey

"Across the world, despite all prejudices and beliefs against it, singlehood is the growing trend." —Elyakim Kislev , author of Happy Singlehood: The Rising Acceptance and Celebration of Solo Living

It is highly beneficial to understand the construction of our beliefs regarding singledom, so that after discarding the myths and acknowledging the realities, we can "freely choose whatever lifestyle fits [us] best".

With the life expectancy in most developed countries rising to just under 80 years, it is a statistical probability that all of us will be living single or solo at some point in our lives whether by choice or circumstances, and consequently, knowing how to enjoy being single is a skill that would be most beneficial to acquire.

Depending upon our innate temperaments, which is different than our personalities, each of us is more predisposed to be comfortable or prefer more or less social engagement. And depending upon what we most enjoy doing in our careers and in our free time, we will be more or less inclined to seek out companionship for long or short durations.

Elyakim Kislev's new book, which was released in February, includes extensive research and an abundance of studies that demonstrate the reality of our modern world that no matter what you prefer, will enable each of us to live more consciously and thus more fully, as well as support others in our lives who choose to live in a manner we may not prefer or choose.

The first powerful finding that spoke to me was the acknowledgement of an unspoken truth regarding marriage (these studies involves a large majority of the industrialized world, not just the United States) - why do people step more easily into marriage even with modernizations of the world we live in today.

Studies have actually proven that the 51% of individuals entering into marriage acknowledge that it is "a fear of aging alone or dying without anyone at our bedside that drives us into marriage".

"Marriage may not be such a good way to escape loneliness in old age. Not only do married people feel lonely in surprisingly high numbers, but also long-term singles are often better equipped to deal with loneliness later in life".

Yes, that does then mean 49% of people did not report this as a reason, but that alone should give us pause, especially when we know that the divorce rate is nearly as proportionate and the percentage of a second divorce is higher still. While each couple's situation is uniquely alone, to not address this fear is to place an undeserved burden on individual we are marrying. In fact, studies have proven, when we do address this fear, as those who have never married do, earlier in our lives, the individual is more likely to make the best decision for themselves and thus improve their overall happiness no matter what the decision may be.

Many TSLL readers/listeners know I am single and have been for the majority of my life. Don't worry, this is not a post/episode advocating for being single if you are either already in a happy marriage, happy relationship or wish to be coupled. Rather today's posting will hopefully broaden our understanding of the realities of societal norms, motivations, pressures, expectations, unconscious biases and realities so that whatever your life's journey is and will be, it is one made with a clear mind that has discarded the myths and is then able to make the best decisions for you and the life you wish to lead. True contentment, in other words, is the goal of today's posting.

26 Ways to Ensure Happy Singledom

~Each of these points are discussed in detail in the audio version of this podcast episode. I encourage you to tune in for further clarification of each point or pick up the book Happy Singlehood from which each of these points were inspired.

1.Assess honestly your self-perception of how you define loneliness and where that definition was constucted.

2. Build and continually nurture a strong social well-being

Having a strong social well-being helps eradicate or reduce social loneliness and emotional loneliness as you will have people in your life in which you feel close to and may turn to (emotional), as well as have both intimate and peripheral acquaintances that give you a sense of belonging (social).

~Listen to Episode #92 - Elements of a Strong Social Well-Being - for further discussion on the construction.

3. Conduct a life review: Self-reflect and find peace with your journey thus far

"Happy older singles [have] the ability to look back and gain control over the circumstances that led to being single".

4. Celebrate and exercise the ability to make your own decisions

5. Revel in your solitude - produce your own "show" so to speak

6. Take responsibility for your own contentment

~View a long list of archived posts and episodes on cultivating true contentment or pick up my 2nd book - Living The Simply Luxurious Life

7. Distinguish between the myths regarding marriage and singlehood and reality

Myth versus reality:

"Young people fear being physically vulnerable in old age more than elders [actually] do".

"Fifty-seven percent of the eighteen-to-sixty-four-year old population anticipate memory loss in old age, while only 25 percent of those aged sixty-five and above actually experience it. Furthermore, while 42 percent expect serious illness in old age, only 21 percent of those aged sixty-five and above experience the same."

"While an expectation of loneliness arises among 29 percent of young people, only 17 percent experience loneliness in old age."

8. Foresee and prepare for potential emergencies

In other words, financial planning - engage with it early, often and regularly, craft a living will, construct your own "family" - .

9. Engage with your community for resources, connection and engagement

10. Learn how to socially engage as a singleton in a manner that makes you feel safe and fulfilled

11. Refrain from seeing marriage as a form of "self-validation".

In other words, seek validation from within, as society's values are limiting, dynamic and generalized.

~A post you might enjoy on this topic: First, Seek Self-Approval

12. Use your time being single as a time for self-growth and development - find the road to your truest self

~A post you might enjoy on this topic: Why Not . . . Live Alone for a While?

13. Maintain and strengthen your overall health - physical and mental

~An episode you might enjoy on this topic: The Six Pillars of Good Health, episode #212

14. If you are a pet person, welcome a pet into your life.

15. Confront the fears that are causing you to assume marriage is the answer to assuage them before you get married for the wrong reasons.

16. Simply be aware of the social stigmas, discrimination and pressures placed on singles.

Doing so will enable you to confront and effectively deal with situations when they arise in a productive way to potentially bring more awareness to the realities and discrimination that exists.

17. Have a positive self-image and self-perception of your life as someone who is single

Present yourself to the world, whether at work or in your personal life as the confident and happy person that you are - some who happens to be single - knowing that is not all that defines you. Gradually, images change when we put a face to the reality.

18. Build your self-confidence

Find work and hobbies in which you feel valued and accomplished - this could be in your career, in your hobbies or in your social network. Be willing to try new things, and as you see that you can learn, change, improve and grow, you begin to realize you hold more power to cultivate the life you love than you may have realized - thus your confidence grows.

~An episode you might enjoy on the topic: Confidence: How to Gain It & Why It's Invaluable, episode #5

19. Consciously avoid the social pressure and discrimination

In other words, your attention gives validation. And if you choose not speak up, what is said or done is deemed as acceptable. Whether it is the conversations you listen to or engage in, the people you spend time with, the films you pay to see, the music you listen to, etc., your time, money and attention are powerful - give it consciously.

20. Speak up and confront discrimination when it occurs

Often people aren't even aware of their bias regarding marriage being the "best" option. Construct a parallel question to those who ask "Why are you still single?" or "I'm still keeping an eye out for you." There are some great ones in the book. Make sure to keep the comment or question equal to what was received so that the speaker can see the error of their words and assumptions.

21. Seek a career or a calling that gives you purpose, in which you feel you are contributing something of value to the world.

22. Find a balance with work and leisure

23. Let your curiosities guide you to seek out educational opportunities for growth

24. Strengthen your three pillars of good health - physical, mental and financial

25. Acknowledge and cultivate manageable household responsibilites

26. Recognize that choosing and embracing being single is not out of weakness or selfishness, but of strength and awareness to connect often more consciously.

"As singles, we know more than anybody else that true independence is actually interdependence."

We liberate ourselves when we recognize there are many different ways to live well in our modern world. And even for those who do not fully or will never accept that there is more than one traditional way to live contentedly and contribute to society positively, as well as giving ourselves the opportunity to be self-actualized, when we model the reality rather than the myth, we encourage others to explore and reach their full potential as well. A more content world is a peaceful world.

If anyone is so fortunate to find a partner to enjoy life with should they wish to and be able to reach their fullest potential without feeling they are limited, confined or lonely in something they "should" be doing, what a magnificent awesome union. Losing such a person, no matter what our age would be heartbreaking, but we can only control and strengthen ourselves, and when we strengthen the muscle of self-reflection, acknowlegement of fears rather than a suppression, we set ourselves free to live well throughout the entirity of our life's journey.

The responsibility each of us has is to not place upon someone else's shoulders that which we are capable of doing ourselves. When we take on this responsibility of cultivating our own happiness and contentment, we will see more clearly what path we truly wish to travel, we will strengthen all of our relationships as we recognize we are interconnected in large and small ways, and we will give ourselves a deep breath of relief and excitement for the next step in our journey forward.

~SIMILAR POSTS/EPISODES YOU MIGHT ENJOY:

~Why Not . . . Be A Confident Single Woman?

~Single or Married: 20 Things To Do

~The Truths & Myths of the Independent, Single Woman, episode #94

Petit Plaisir:

~Daily Rituals: Women at Work by Mason Curry