Someone tell me why I forgot just how thoroughly unhinged Khaba and Ammet are. I knew they were fruity (and unbalanced) at best but somehow 10 years wiped from my memory how in your face it is that they really, really *enjoy* each other's company (we all agree that they're fucking, right? It's not like Stroud shoved in the lines 'I like you hungry' and 'I like a little pain' and expected us not to jump to conclusions. Not to mention all the 'dear's thrown about.)
I was probably too focused on Bartimaeus, Asmira and Faquarl sharing 0.5 brain cells.
An ilustration book covers tribute to one great book series done by great writer Jonathan Stroud. I made book order by story setings: The Ring of Solomon, The Amulet of Samarkand, The Golem's Eye and The Ptolemy's Gate.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter Two of my current ongoing longfic, a prequel to the actual BartSeq prequel, set in Ancient Egypt and basically a way too elaborate backstory for Khaba and Ammet.
So far the first two chapters are about introducing the Priesthood of Ra and the Royal Theban Family, which are both going to play vital parts in the story.
A/N: Here you go, I present to you a tiny little Bartimaeus drabble because this series is was what formed me into the (sad) monsterfucker that I am today. The ending also gave me severe depression but we do not talk about it. I always found the dynamic between Khaba and Ammet extremely interesting even tho they are both little garbage gremlins that deserve everything they got for treating my boy Bart the way they did. Unfortunately, I deeply resonate with Khabas desire to get rawed by a demon that could instantly kill me if he wanted to, so I can’t completely hate him. I wrote this blurb a long long time ago and I don’t like it that much tbh but content is almost nonexistent in the bartimaeus fandom so I decided to take one for the team and just post it. I hope my take on the relationship between the both of them and the knowledge that Khaba will inevitably die someday is enough to feed this starved fandom just a little bit.
Pairing: flaming trashcan x sewer rat Khaba x Ammet
Warnings: None, light angst if you squint real hard or are as big of a baby as I am
Description: Ammet is plagued by the knowledge that his beloved master will someday have to pass away and Khaba wakes up to comfort him
Story under the cut!
Humans were destined to die. Every human knew it, and some of them tried to fill their useless little life with as many adventures and experiences as possible, and others just decided to wallow in despair, shaking in fear of the steadily approaching end.
Ammet knew, too. He knew it better than most of the humans themselves, for he had watched the sun go up way too many times for him to count, had watched way too many empires bloom and then turn to dust. He knew, oh he knew that humans were fragile little creatures which could be crushed to death by as much as a puddle of his essence, and he know how easily they withered away because they had fallen ill, or because their bodies crumbled under the impact of time.
For the longest time, it hadn’t even concerned him, really. Rather, he had found pleasure in watching the light fade out of their eyes as they took their last breath, he had found comfort and glee at the knowledge that even his worst masters were sure to find their end. And when they found their end, he would still be there, watching.
He knew. He knew way too many things. Knowledge was power, yes, and power was something he had in masses. However, after some time, knowledge didn’t satisfy him anymore. Rather, it made him careless. Who was he to even spare a thought when it came to these tiny little creatures, which thought way too highly of themselves? He would live on. He didn’t have to care.
Yet, even with as much knowledge as he had collected over thousands of years, he couldn’t explain how he had ended up like this.
He still remembered clear as daylight that one, faithful day when he was summoned. He remembered how he appeared in the pentagram, the smell of sand and dust. He remembered the voice calling his name, those onyx eyes staring straight at him, seeing him.
He remembered how he stopped for a moment as he studied the form of his master, a young, Egyptian boy. And the boy looked right back at him. Not a single sign of fear was visible, but much more curiosity.
He remembered his first order, how they left Egypt, how they grew closer than human and demon should have. He remembered how –
The warm body next to him shifted, and Ammet snapped out of his thoughts. His eyes flickered around for a second until they fixated on the eyes of his lover.
Khaba was laying sprawled out on his bed, dressed in nothing more but a light cloth which was wrapped around his hips. His eyes were still dull and unfocused from sleep, but just like in Egypt many years ago, they seemed to see him. Not just his disguise, but rather his essence. The unwavering stare of Khaba caused Ammet’s essence to whirl around, to shift and trash like the ocean on a particular stormy day.
Entranced, Ammet stared at him, until the deep voice of his master once again brought him back to reality.
“Are you alright?”
The marid shifted and reached out to brush a hand over Khaba’s cheek. He had chosen the form of a young man, with chestnut coloured skin, a lithe and agile body and dark eyes. When his cold fingertips met the smooth skin of his beloved’s face, another set of shivers assaulted his essence.
Khaba’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact and he leaned into the hand. A soft hum escaped his lips as he took in the familiar scent of his lover, a mix of the smell of the ocean and the sickly sweet scent of a body that was about to decay.
The magician opened his eyes again to see the marid still staring at him, and he decided to repeat his question.
“Ammet, my beloved.”
Cold finger tightened their hold around Khaba’s face and he raised his own hand to cup the shaking fingers. He gave them an assuring short squeeze as he slowly began to sit up, the mattress under him creaking softly in the process.
“I don’t know.”
Ammet’s voice was nothing more than a soft whisper, but Khaba heard him.
They locked eyes once again and deep inside, they both new. They understood each other without words, their bond too deep. They knew, they understood each other, and the unspoken words hung heavy in the air.
Khaba reached out to pull Ammet closer to him, and without a second thought, the marid gave in. They fell together as Ammet’s essence moved to cover him in the form of dark mist. Khaba gave a short grunt as he moved under him, and he lifted his hand to let it glide through the dark mist, and he felt the mass over him shudder in appreciation.
Sometimes, Khaba was bothered by the fact that Ammet didn’t have a true physical form, but this was the closest it he could come to feel Ammet as a whole, as a being. But there was one thing that he could experience, even if it was for only a short time.
“Let me hear your voice”, Khaba pleaded as he threaded his hand through the small tendrils of smoke. “I want to hear your voice, Ammet.”
The marid over him cried out, in pain, in adoration, in anguish. It was a noise which oh so clearly showed that its owner had no idea what to feel and how to express it. Then, a booming, deep sound echoed in the small chamber.
Even after hearing Ammet’s true voice a number of times, Khaba had no idea how to explain it. Ammet seemed to speak in every language of this world and yet Khaba clearly understood him. There were so many voices but at the same time just one, and its message was directed at Khaba and Khaba alone.
“I love you”, it, they, he spoke, “I would be nothing without you”. And Khaba knew, he understood.
good night to the girls with suspicious amounts of silver on their person; d*sney villains; Radicalized Bitches and people who have called king solomon, and i quote, 'a certified freak 7 days a week' in public... the rest of you.. gn i guess 🙄
