I know this doesn't really mesh with my blog, but would anyone be interested in chatting, etc as friends? Up for naughty stuff once in awhile, but more just looking for a good consistent chat.
Playing MapleStory because it decided to work in honor of me getting a week off school apparently...
I haven’t been on in a while so there was a crapload of new content when I logged in. I’m a sucker for quests and the Maple storylines, so I actually have been playing through a bunch of them (tbh I don’t like the Alishan boss, Shao; she’s a pain in the ass).
Now I’m wondering wtf is up with Claudine in the Black Heaven story? Like, okay girl, I know you’re my boss and we’ve been working together for like a year and I’m your top agent or w/e but... um, isn’t it a little out of character for you to demand my safe return be a priority higher than the success of a mission that could save the entire world? Are you flirting with me? It’d be kind of a sweet moment, actually, if she weren’t asking me to put my life above everyone in Henesys.
Don’t ask me to be a selfish hero. Not even in a fictional universe made of chibis and mushrooms.
Watch out guys, I’m breaking all kinds of norms for my blog here. If you’re not into it, please keep on scrolling and you can forget this ever happened. If you are interested, please sit back and enjoy.
I present to you, Cheated, a companion to @uglybuffet‘s puzzleshipping fic Colors. Both stories take place in the soulmate AU where the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate, at which point you gain the ability to see in color, but you lose the colors when your soulmate dies. In this case, you must touch your soulmate to see colors.
The Pharaoh of Khemet felt cheated.
Upper and Lower Khemet both were firmly under his rule, spreading out for hundreds of miles and sustaining thousands of people. He was the god of this glorious land, a living figure of divinity and power who stood above all others. And yet, as he gazed pensively across the sunset landscape of his desert, he felt cheated.
“Describe it to me,” he commanded the handmaiden who had deposited a bowl of fruits beside him.
“I beg pardon, my Pharaoh, but what is it I am meant to describe?” the girl asked cautiously.
“Look out there,” he said again, slowly, as though speaking to someone at a severe disadvantage, “and tell me what it is that you see.”
“I-I see the land my Pharaoh rules,” answered the servant. A note of satisfaction in her voice told the Pharaoh that she believed what he wanted was to have his ego stroked. Ordinarily, the girl would be right. But this evening…
“I see dusk clouds over the sand, and a gold sunset that still cannot compare to the magnificence that is my Pharaoh,” the girl continued. Her ruler waited. “I see in the courtyard, a blue spring fed by the sacred river, and in the distance, the homes of people who live on its water and my king’s light.” She turned to face him, but kept her eyes down. “I see nothing out there more brilliant than the king before me, even in this dim red sunli--”
“Enough.” The Pharaoh raised a hand and shooed the girl away. Frustration gleamed in his eyes and she was gone with a frightened squeak. The moment his quarters were clear, the Pharaoh leant into the banister, gold jewelry clinking hollowly as he moved, pressed his weight forward and bowed his head.
“What does she mean, red,” he muttered. “What does she mean, gold and blue?” And the Pharaoh again felt cheated, when he raised a hand towards the sunset and saw nothing but another washed out shade of grey.
The whole world was his to rule, and he could see none of its presumed beauty. For the Pharaoh Atemu, all was black, white, or something between. A god of all Khemet, and he knew not even the color of sand. The Pharaoh hung his head in anger and shame.
For all of the people Pharaoh Atemu had to meet, all the hands he had to shake and foreign greetings to be exchanged; for all the people he brought to his court, all the magicians and servants of the palace; even for all the criminals executed in Khemet, all the sullied fingers he forced himself to brush, the Pharaoh never once saw a single shade of color.
Even those bound to him through the dark magic of the Millennium Items could not save him from a life of black and white and emptiness.
It was not unheard of for a Pharaoh to live his whole life with no color. Marrying into one’s own family served as an adequate challenge to the system of soulmates. Simply put, the Pharaoh Atemu hated the idea that there was a part of his life missing and someone else had control over it. Someone else had power over him, a god. The Pharaoh wished he might find this person so he could slap their hand and lock them away forever, just to prove that cruel twist of the universe wrong. He needed no one. But he could not deny that without color, he felt incomplete.
When the Pharaoh sealed himself in the Millennium Puzzle, he still saw no colors. Not even the flashes of color one was meant to see before death, and it was then that he knew the magic would indeed do its work. But an eternity of waiting in darkness (there was no white anymore, only blackness and cold) seemed like a fate worse than death. For now, the Pharaoh Atemu thought, there would never be hope of finding his colors. Even if he found the one who could grant them, what would be the point? Khemet was likely to be a forgotten dream when he awoke.
The Millennium Puzzle was solved one day, by a boy who looked remarkably similar to the old spirit inside of it. Granted, the spirit remembered nothing of who he was, but the notion of colors, something besides the greying stone in his soul room, seemed important. The spirit never could let go of it.
It turns out he didn’t need to; the first time the spirit possessed the Puzzle’s holder, his whole world changed. When he looked out the window, the spirit understood blue for the first time. When he looked down, the Puzzle shone gold around his neck. And when he looked into the mirror, he knew the color of his eyes to be red.
A wave of envy passed through him. His host, this Yuugi, must have found his soulmate. It was through him only that the spirit could see colors, and subsequently felt guilty, like he was intruding.
But the more time he spent with Yuugi, the less the spirit seemed to care. Yuugi had become his partner in many senses of the word, and they shared everything from Dueling to a single body. What more could it be to share colors? After all, there was already a bond between them. The spirit could feel it in the back of his mind, something powerful that grew stronger in a few brief seconds every time they switched bodies. But that feeling was always gone in an instant, never lingering enough to be identified, and the spirit would be left with no answers and a world full of Yuugi’s colors. He supposed it could be much worse.
Yuugi once asked him about colors. “I wonder what they’re like,” his partner mused.
Eyes known to be crimson, though currently grey, widened in surprise. “You can’t see colors?” The spirit was utterly confused as he searched Yuugi’s face for some hint of a misunderstanding, something he was missing. The spark at the back of his thoughts grew strong and steady for a brief moment as Yuugi stared at him in return.
“No,” the younger answered slowly, a tone of lifelessness drawing into his voice, “I haven’t met my soulmate yet.” Yuugi cocked his head. “Why do you seem so surprised, other me?”
The spirit turned a shoulder towards Yuugi and cast his eyes down. For the moment, that strange sensation in his head calmed again. “I can,” he said guiltily. It hadn’t been Yuugi’s colors he could see. They were his own. Through Yuugi he must have met someone, touched someone who gave him colors. But it had been months, and there could hardly be any hope of finding that person now.
As if to add insult to injury, the look in Yuugi’s eyes (what color were they, anyway, the spirit wondered) was one of betrayal and loss. The spirit thought he understood. How could it be fair that only one of them could see color in the world around them. “I thought you could,” the spirit breathed, “because I only see color when I'm you. I thought … I assumed you had found your soul mate already.”
That odd feeling was back again as Yuugi looked at him in the utmost seriousness marred with distress. “I would have said,” Yuugi choked out. The spirit could see his throat working its way around a lump, and the older phantom had no intention of continuing the painful conversation, so he withdrew.
Apparently, Yuugi had a guess as to who the spirit’s soulmate might have been, because he found himself on a date with Anzu not too much later. However, when Yuugi’s presence retreated almost entirely into his own mind, the spirit felt strangely empty. Those feelings tickling the back of his consciousness were nearly gone, and the difference that followed was like walking from a room of screaming crowds into complete silence.
What’s more, Yuugi was wrong. Anzu still did not have her colors by the end of their date, and the spirit noticed that his colors seemed to grow weaker, more washed out the longer he spent with her.
The worst part in all of it, though, was that smile Yuugi often gave the spirit now. It was too wide and just a little too plastic-looking, and the spirit thought it was the opposite of alright. He wished Yuugi would smile for real again. He wished Yuugi could see the world in color, too.
The spirit of the Puzzle discovered the tragedy of unrequited soulmates was more common than he would have thought. Yuugi mentioned to him once that apparently, Jounouchi had found his colors through Seto Kaiba. But their rival and resident asshole millionaire fervently denied seeing colors of his own.
The spirit wondered if Kaiba really saw nothing or if he was pretending. Either way, it seemed insane. How could it be fair if Jounouchi had colors and Kaiba didn’t? How could it be right if Kaiba refused to give Jounouchi a chance even despite the colors?
Why would someone deny their soulmate? What reason could they possibly have? The spirit of the Puzzle could not fathom it.
When Yuugi was taken by Dartz, the spirit understood. He felt disoriented without color, yes, but when he couldn’t reach Yuugi, he felt broken. Color was a novelty, the spirit decided, an enhancement to the world. But Yuugi wasn’t just a human. Yuugi was the other half of his soul, the light to the spirit’s overwhelming dark magic, a voice of reason the Nameless Pharaoh had stupidly ignored and a partner he’d arrogantly taken for granted.
It was when that half of his soul had been ripped away that the Pharaoh decided it no longer mattered who his soulmate was, because he couldn’t live without Yuugi. And yet, no matter how deep his resolve, the Pharaoh knew he could never act on these feelings. Yuugi, after all, had said so many times that no matter who his soulmate was, the younger boy would stay with them. More than anything in the universe, the Pharaoh knew his partner wanted a soulmate, someone who could bring the glorious colors the Pharaoh knew into his life.
The spirit envied that someone. Because someday, that person would be able to claim what the Nameless Pharaoh could not, and it would be horrible to rip Yuugi between his real soulmate and a desperately lonely shadow like himself. No matter how dark the Pharaoh’s being was, or how many bad decisions decorated his past, he couldn’t stand to cause his other half any more pain.
His name, the Pharaoh found, was Atemu. And along with it, all the memories of ruling a land in greyscale came flooding back.
Atemu had to wonder though, if he ever knew what he was talking about when he used to say he felt cheated. The grey world was certainly a bit tedious. But, knowing what he did now, Atemu couldn’t stop himself from asking if maybe the colors were never what was missing.
And if images of Yuugi’s world, Yuugi’s friends, and Yuugi’s face were all the answer his mind could supply, Atemu felt disinclined to argue.
Atemu knew it was supposed to be a test. This Ceremonial Duel was meant to test Yuugi, or rather, to prove to the gods that Atemu was no longer needed. The Pharaoh knew that he wasn’t, that Yuugi had grown strong enough to live without him. And yet, it seemed like such an insult to give his other half anything less than his absolute best.
Yuugi deserved the best. He deserved a life full of love and happiness and Dueling, but most of all, a life painted with every color imaginable.
And so, even while trying to give Yuugi the Duel of his life, Atemu prayed that Yuugi would win. It was, in part, a selfish wish. Atemu simply didn’t want to stay in a world where Yuugi would inevitably gravitate to another, and in this world it was bound to happen, just as Atemu himself would one day discover exactly who granted him colors.
It was agonizing, seeing the tears in Yuugi’s eyes as he called his final attack. The shockwaves coursed through Atemu’s body, and when the illusions had lifted, Yuugi was there, on his knees, crying openly. Because, Atemu knew suddenly as a weight like a planet crashed over him, it was over. Yuugi had won and now it was all going to end. Atemu knelt beside his other half and placed a hand on his shoulder.
The ever-present humming in the back of his head ceased with sudden clarity, as though one touch was all it took for Atemu’s mind to slide into peace. The Pharaoh absently remembered how scared he once was of another having power over him, but despite the fact that his fate had been entirely in Yuugi’s hands just moments ago, and it was Yuugi’s power that would set him free, Atemu wasn’t afraid of him. He never could be.
And as the Pharaoh and his other half exchanged parting words, as Yuugi wished him luck and thanked him for everything, Atemu felt his chest being squeezed under a vice grip. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave Yuugi, but he had to. Destiny had set things this way, and besides, Yuugi didn’t need him anymore. With a last glance over Yuugi’s features (he swore for a moment that he could even imagine the blue of Yuugi’s uniform coming into full view, the gold of the Puzzle shining through the dim light of the Door to the Afterlife, a red accent on his partner’s Duel Disk), Atemu began to walk away.
The weight of a cloak settled atop his shoulders, tugging gently as it billowed. There were voices behind him, but Atemu did not turn back. Instead, he looked forward to where several figures stood waiting for him. The familiar blue of his cousin’s eyes, the impeccable white robes of Isis, Mana’s stunningly untamable mahogany hair—
Atemu froze. There were colors, plain as day right before his eyes, adorning each of his friends with vibrancy and a life Atemu had hardly seen before. His mind flashed back through a whirlwind as he remembered the warmth of Yuugi’s skin under his own flesh and blood hand, the cessation of that nagging incompleteness when they touched, and the colors red and blue of Yuugi’s uniform and Duel Disk trickling into his vision, the gold from the Millennium Puzzle that had looked like a trick of the light.
He was running before anyone could stop him, surging back towards the closing doors, one hand outstretched. Yuugi’s voice was there, calling something that Atemu couldn’t make out over the blood rushing in his ears. The Pharaoh found himself pleading with destiny to allow one change, break the rules just one time.
The doors were closed as Atemu’s fist landed on its surface of finely carved gold. The cloak on his back pooled around him in ripples meant to be tearful blue. And the blood that dripped from his fist should have been a brilliant crimson red. Instead it was grey, a color that now described everything exactly and nothing perfectly in Atemu’s world, a lifeless place without Yuugi in it.
“I should have known,” he whispered. “Please let me go back. Let me see him again!”
Destiny had no answer this time. The ancient Pharaoh of Khemet let himself fall against the door and to his knees, and Atemu knew what it meant to be well and truly cheated as he drowned in a world without colors.
I tried my best, Nana, but I don’t think it’s nearly as good as your original one. I did take your idea we talked about for the end... and I kept the switch from “other self” to “other half” because I did notice it way back when I thought I was clever. I hope you like it.
For the record, I still prefer to spell the Pharaoh’s name Atem. But Nana used Atemu, so I tried to keep continuity and spell it with the u.
