#and i was looking for ancient egyptian or coptic names when i needed to find a name for her

[eliounora]

quick doodle of my oc, haru! I’ve changed her character quite a bit recently

[supernaturalnovelsandmore]

Supernatural Novel: The Unholy Cause

Welcome to my review of the fifth Supernatural novel, The Unholy Cause

Author: Joe Schreiber

Timeline: Set after Episode 5.08 Changing Channels but before Episode 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon

Location: Mission's Ridge, Georgia

Synopsis: As the pressure mounts for the upcoming apocalypse, Sam and Dean head to the historic town of Mission's Ridge, GA, where the Civil War is less about the past and more about the present. With interference from Castiel, demons, and Judas Iscariot himself, how can Sam and Dean prevent a major catastrophe from befalling this small town?

Review: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Warning: Spoilers abound!

After the last book, I was really hoping to see an improvement in this one, and boy did I! I've finally hit the Supernatural tie-in novel I was hoping to read from the beginning! It read like an actual episode, I could hear the actors speaking through the character's words, and I really couldn't find anything that contradicted canon.

In addition, the actual storyline was compelling and the side characters interesting. With the other novels I've reviewed, it's taken me most of the day to read them because I kept getting distracted. This one, I read straight through without stopping. I love reading a book like that!

Side note: This novel does dive in to Christian theology and the story of Judas Iscariot (who betrayed Jesus). If you are uncomfortable delving into that portion of Christianity, you may not want to read the book or this review (though my review notes about that will be minimal).

Now, since I don't have any canon vs. non-canon comparisons to make, today's review is simply going to be a list of my favorite scenes and how certain scenes relate to what's going on during this period in Season 5.

Cameo!

Sam and Dean are informed of the case by one Rufus Turner! He's only in it for a brief bit, but he's still funny as heck asking the police to pay his dry-cleaning bill.

We get a nice character introduction of enigmatic (clueless) Castiel who's trying to heal Civil War reenactors who are understandably frightened of him. He's still searching for God at this point, but we also get this nice character beat for him:

"I walked the battlefields of the South a hundred and sixty years ago," Castiel replied, a faraway look entering his eyes. "I moved among the men and brought their souls to glory. And now..." Something moved over his face for just an instant, so rare and brief that Dean almost didn't catch it; a flicker of hope. "And now," he repeated, "I'm healing again."

Of course, Dean has to explain that none of the reenactors actually need healing and he goes back to being determined to find a 'First-order witness' - someone who broke bread with Jesus Christ.

I found this part surprising within the book, but as I thought about it, it made more sense. The TV series has to tread a very careful line with Christianity so as not to offend a bunch of viewers, but the books have a much smaller audience and can take these liberties. Personally, I was fine with it. They didn't go too deep and stuck with the witness being Judas (who doesn't exactly have a great reputation to begin with).

There's a fantastic brotherly moment where Sam shares the sheriff's name (Jack Daniels) and they then go back and forth trying to guess what this Jack person is like i.e., fat vs. skinny, bald vs. hairy...

Dean: "Nam vet. Buford Pussar type. From Walking Tall." Sam: "Deliverance refugee. Civil citations all over his desk."

One of things I love about this book is the brother's relationship. This banter and other character beats really feel authentic as opposed to the prior novels. (I won't spoil what the sheriff is actually like - needless to say, they play a major role in the book.)

Just a few pages later from this great banter, we're back to the drama as Sam and Dean argue about a nightmare Sam had that he can't remember, but which could be relevant to the case.

"What's this about Dean?" Sam demanded, "Is it about you not trusting me? Because if it is, there's not a whole lot of places we can go from there." "Yeah, you're my brother," Dean said. "But you're also Lucifer's prom dress, and if he's seeding your dreams with hints about the master plan, then maybe it might be a good idea for you to look at 'em as close as possible. That's all I'm saying."

And of course, Dean gets concerned about Sam as they split up to cover more ground. It's music to my ears! There are a number of other conversations like this that really emphasize the strained relationship Sam and Dean display in Season 5.

Another surprising character beat is the influence of Lucifer on Sam because as he's doing research at the local historical society, Sam (and the historian) are surprised to find out he can read Coptic, an ancient Egyptian language. It startles Sam and once again emphasizes how different he is.

At a particularly gruesome crime scene (a mass grave), there's a brief moment with Dean that really shines as he looks down on the skeletons in the mass grave and finds a similarity to what he did in Hell:

Because that was what he did after spending years down there, doing what he'd done... Through sheer force of will, Dean shoved those notions aside...Now more than ever he didn't want that experience contaminating the way he looked at the world... not that he had a choice. Hell had been his Vietnam. It had stamped its mark on him for all eternity, and no amount of denial or self-imposed ignorance was going to change that.

There's an additional moment of traumatized Dean that I wish they could have shown in the tv series:

Sam: "Are those bloodhounds?" Dean didn't answer... When Sam finally caught a look at his brother's face, he saw that Dean's cheeks and forehead had gone absolutely white, as if every drop of blood had been sucked away... "They're not hellhounds, Dean, they're just dogs..." Dean didn't answer. He was still listening to the barking and howling noises coming closer, crashing through the undergrowth. He seemed paralyzed by the sounds.

There are more to these Dean passages, (too much to copy), but I really like that we see actual effects of past experiences.

There's also a nice scene with Sam and a young teenager that really highlights his ability to connect with kids around that age (of which we see later in the TV series):

"My brother and I grew up without a Mom, too," Sam said... "It wasn't always easy... Not everybody gets that." "I still dream about her sometimes, you know? Even though I was young when she... when it happened," Nate blinked at Sam. "Weird, huh?" "Are they good dreams?" "Yeah." "Then it's good. That's your way of remembering her."

The last third of the book is very action-oriented and has multiple instances of hurt Sam and hurt Dean, with the requisite caring from each brother.

Once again, I've gone on too long, but I'll end with a couple of favorites: Humor:

The sheriff glanced out the window, (referring to Baby) "And haul that piece of crap car to the impound lot. I don't want it cluttering up my street." "Woah!" Dean snapped, a sudden rush of anger rising in his face. "Watch your damn mouth. You can't just---"

Drama:

"This is blood money," Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the Shekel. "Bobby says the only way anybody gets their hand on this..." The rest of the sentence was getting stuck in his chest, and he made himself finish it, "is by betraying someone you love." Dean stared at him. "Dean..." "Look," Dean broke in. "Don't get too hung up on it, okay? It doesn't necessarily mean anything," he stood up and brushed off his jeans. "Whatever happens between us, we'll deal with it then..."

Thanks again for reading! I'll be back again next week with War of the Sons!

[221bshrlocked]

Follow Your Heart

Pairing: Ardeth Bay x Reader

Words: 12,609. Please do not hate me. I put markers to where you can stop and continue later

Warnings: Some pining. Little bit of angst. Definitely some fluff. And as you should know by now, smut. Unusual dirty talk in the sense that it is more romantic than dirty. Hopefully it gets you going though.

A/N: I have not written anything in so long and I apologize that this is not what you expected (aka Bucky or Steve) after the on/off hiatus. I am genuinely surprised considering this is the longest story I have written. I’m trying my hand at something completely different and since there are a few of us out there thirsting for Ardeth Bae Bay, I hope you like this. And shout out to @mss4msu for literally handing me the Middle Egyptian and Hieratic on a platter because Lord knows I still suck at this and she is a genius. Also, Happy Birthday friend, you know who you are. Lastly, refer to this for an in depth disclaimer for this fic.

~I~

It was a quiet day, one of the few since you’ve arrived with Evy on the site. You weren’t one to tag along with her or her husband, but you couldn’t pass a chance to visit a place like Luxor, not when it was your professor’s favorite city. Being one of Sir Gaston Maspero’s students, you’ve heard all about the temple, this side of the Nile even, and you’d always wanted to come to it, not just for research purposes but to enjoy the magic that was Egypt. 

You always envied Evy for living in this place for so long, even wished you were favored by the librarians and professors like her, but she was much more charming, beautiful even. You were the cousin no one paid mind to, apart from the Professor of course. He had always favored you amongst the others and you didn’t mind it, not when you were learning about the greatest civilization in the world. You had always wished to be more connected to this land but sadly, you weren’t. Your only connection was the knowledge of the languages and the culture, not a parent you could always speak of during parties and galas. 

Looking up from your notebook, you placed it aside and sipped from your afternoon tea, eyes searching the landscape in front of you, hoping the sands and waves would tell you something, anything about the place you were in. It has been years since you’ve spoken with your Professor, wishing he was here with you, telling you all the secrets whispered to him by the stones. He always had a sense of things around him, and he once told you that you had that same instinct but you brushed it off. If you did, it hasn’t made itself visible yet. You’ve been here for months now, without a new find or anything to write about back home. 

But like Evy, you weren’t one to give up so easily, constantly searching for the impossible. A breeze flew through your hair, your skin shivering for the first time in a long time. The summer was close to ending and while it was unbearably hot during the day, the night could be even deadlier. You drank the rest of your tea and were collecting your notebooks when a few papers flew away. Immediately, you ran after them before they fell in the water, managing to catch all but one. You were about to jump in the water when a hand flew and grasped your wrist, pulling you back before you stepped any further.

“Wha-”

“The waters are not safe in these parts of the country.” Your eyes shifted back and forth between the man’s own dark orbs and his hand. He finally let go, staring at you as he passed and went into the water to collect your page. You hoped it was soaked enough that he wouldn’t see what was in it, sighing in relief when he came back out with what used to be a sketch.

“You must be careful. We do not need anymore incidents around here.” He threw the wet paper in your hands before walking away from the hill, yelling something to the men working around the temple before getting on his horse and leaving. You sighed before throwing the page away, hating how you somehow always made a fool out of yourself in his presence. You had not expected to see him today. Rick and Evy weren’t around so he had no reason to be here, or so you thought. You walked back to your tent to wash up before dinner, telling the men it was time for them to go home. 

"في أي وقت تريدننا أن نأتي غدا يا انسة؟" 

Miss, is there any specific time you wish us to come tomorrow?

One of the men yelled out to you, wiping the sweat from his forehead and waiting for your response. Your Arabic was that of a child’s and although you loved practicing it with the men and the people in the village, you hated how it came out like that of a toddler’s, sometimes grammatically incorrect and other times completely wrong. But you struggled through a response anyway, smiling at them before replying to the leader of the workmen.

"يمكنكم الراحة غدا وسأخبركم لاحقًا."

You can rest tomorrow and I will let you know later when you can come in.

They put their tools near your tent and left, thanking you and bidding you a good night. You were aware of the position you were in and at times, truly disliked it. You thought of maybe giving them a week or two break but you weren’t sure how that would go with your superiors back in Oxford. Once everyone had left, you brought food and water to your guards and asked them to take the night off. Both of them turned to each other and thanked you for the opportunity but told you they would remain nearby. When you realized they would still do whatever they wanted, you thanked them and left back to your tent.

You left them chatting about some wedding coming up and went back to your tent, shutting all sides before stripping down and showering. You were thankful for the men’s expertise on setting up this tent. They left you a place near one of the palm trees, closed from all sides so you could wash up quickly if you needed to. It was your favorite part of the day, standing in the middle of the desert and surrounded by the ancient air. Finishing up quickly, you left your hair down to dry naturally, wrapping yourself in a night robe before walking out of the little room. As soon as you looked up, you almost squealed, hand clasping at your chest for air. 

“You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Your words were a mix of anger and fear, body refusing to budge from its place until the figure in front of you said something. When he continued to stare at you, you cleared your throat and moved to pour some wine for yourself. “I thought you had left.” You turned around and saw he was still staring at you, his eyes following the droplets of water falling on your shoulders. 

When he continued to remain silent, you sipped from your glass and sat opposite of him. “I’m assuming Rick and Evy are coming soon then?” 

“What makes you say that?” His response was laced with sarcasm and you hated how he sounded, how he always treated you. Perhaps it was the heat finally getting to your head or the long hours in the field, maybe even the wine, but you’ve had enough.

“Seeing as you are never around unless they are, I thought they would be coming. We both know you are not here out of interest…” Your words trailed off and you looked up, surprised to see his demeanor change, however, not for the better. Without any hesitation, his frowning expression followed you as he stood, walking towards your chair and leaning down enough for you to feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“Never ask your guards to leave.” His eyes darted to your lips but for a moment, watching the wine stain them a dark red before he pulled away and growled something in Arabic you didn’t quite catch, walking through the little opening in the tent and leaving you a mess. You downed the rest of your drink and crawled under your covers, finding it impossible to sleep now that you were so close to him. The man did things to you ever since you met him and you hated it. Somehow, you were always like a dog in heat whenever he was around. You weren’t sure what it was that was attractive about him; between his nearly black eyes and plump lips, and his dominant yet kind personality, you were sure there would never be another that would catch your attention. 

But it was just your luck that he absolutely despised you, constantly calling you out whenever Evy and Rick were around or, when they weren’t, ordering you around like you were a child who couldn’t care for herself. You wished you could know what it was that made him regularly angry with you but you opted to thinking it was because you were a complete outsider that, like her cousin, dug around in places where she didn’t belong. You chose to fall for a man that couldn’t stand you, a man that had every reason to not like you or your family, a man who could have any woman in his bed should he ask, a man whose sole purpose was to keep Egypt's secrets hidden from the curious eyes of the world. 

A man who went by the name of Ardeth Bay.

~II~

It had never occurred to you that the day would come when you could speak with a living being who belonged to an ancient tribe. While the modern Egyptians you interacted with were descendants of the ancients, whether of the Coptic or Muslim traditions, it amazed you that one of the least known tribesmen were among you to this day. In any text you read, administrative and personal, you could always find hints of the Medjay’s presence. In the royal letters, they were those who protected the deserts of Seth, the Pharaoh himself, and sometimes even the borders of the country. In the personal ones, although rarely mentioned, they were described as ones who never carried out much interaction with the population, always keeping to themselves or helping out wherever they were needed in a village before leaving. They patrolled the lands at times, making sure there were no Hittite or Akkadian spies seeking to destroy Pharaoh. 

Now, the chieftain of the Medjay was another story. He was constantly mentioned in any type of literary texts. Most of the times, he was mentioned by name and on behalf of his people. He was the most important of the Medjay for obvious purposes. You continued scribbling absentmindedly in your notebook, not paying attention to what it was you were writing down. You fell out of your haze when you heard a commotion in front of your tent. Looking at your watch, you jumped out of your bed when you realized you’ve been idle for an hour, quickly putting on your robe before exiting the tent.

“Is everything alright?” You saw the two guards arguing with a few women from the village, immediately walking up to them to see what was wrong.

“There is nothing to concern yourself with Miss.”

“Please, tell me.” You saw the two men look at each other before nodding at the women. 

"يريدونك ان تحضر حفلة زفاف صديقتهن الليلة."

They want you to attend their friend’s wedding tonight.

The women stood there in silence until you decided and although you wished to go, you weren’t sure you would be welcomed, especially if the bride and the groom did not know. You struggled with what you wanted to say and hoped you would make sense to them. 

"انا اتشرف لكن هل تعرف العروس أنكم طلبتن مني؟" 

It would be my honor, but does the bride know you came and asked me?

They smiled at your broken Arabic and nodded in unison before telling you that she was the one who asked them to come and invite you. They told you she would have come herself but she was preparing for the wedding in a few hours. You told them you would be more than happy to come and laughed when one of the younger girls jumped and hugged you before kissing both of your cheeks. The men did not look pleased at your decision but said nothing, telling you that one of them would stay on site while the other accompanied you to the wedding. And when you tried to tell them there was no reason to do so, they told you it was non-negotiable. 

So you left back to your tent to dress more properly before making the regular morning rounds, grabbing your notebook and heading to the other side of the temple where you have yet to excavate. You had asked permission from the townspeople first, and although you thought they would not grant you access since the mosque built on the site was still in use, they surprisingly agreed as long as you didn’t damage any part of the prayer house. You found a bolder near the mosque and sat on it, sketching the grounds first before going anywhere near the mosque. 

You stayed there for hours, losing all sense of time when your thoughts strayed away from the place to something, or rather, someone else. Flipping through the pages, you stopped and looked at the page you were invested in during the morning hours, shaking your head at how pathetic you were. Near the portrait you sketched of him instead of the one which fell in the Nile were hieroglyphs. You never knew that day dreaming would include writing in a dead language and you laughed a little, not because of what was on the page but because of how clever your mind was even when it was idle. 

                                                      𓇯𓂠𓍑𓇌 𓏥

“ḥry mḏꜢw.” You whispered to the monuments, tracing the lines of his features and wishing you had a better understanding of the man that was Ardeth. He was a living marvel in every sense of the word. And although you were attracted to him because of his intelligence and past, you couldn’t deny how handsome he was, probably the most beautiful of men you’d ever had the pleasure of looking at. You’ve only ever seen his face and hands, and as much as you hated to admit it, they were the fuel of your evening activities far too many times. And whenever he haunted your dreams, you always woke up heaving and sweating, knowing very well what your dreams were about. 

So busy continuing your sketch of him, you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching you until it was too late. For the third time in less than twenty four hours, Ardeth crept up on you, standing a few feet away behind you and ignoring your obvious distress before approaching you.

“You have got to stop doing that.” You said humorously but stopped smiling when you realized he was in a foul mood once more.

“Why are you going to the wedding?” He ignored your previous comment, crossing his arms and waiting for you to reply.

“I thought it would be rude to decline the invitation. I have never gone to an Egyptian wedding before and I have a feeling I will not get a second chance again.” Your tone came out more aggressive than you intended but you didn’t care. 

“And the guards? Had I not told you last night to never ask them to leave.” Ardeth took a step forward and part of you felt a twist in your stomach at his proximity, not because he would hurt you. No, he would never do that. But because you were barely over what transpired the night prior. 

“Last time I checked, I was the boss around here, not you. Now, I understand your position and hold great respect for it, but if you think you can walk around ordering me simply because I am a woman then it is best you don’t come around unless Rick or Evy are here. I don’t need to listen to you and you know this very well. If you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare for a wedding.” You stood up and took one step forward, not seeing the giant rock in front of you. You prepared to hit the ground but no such thing happened. Instead, you felt a pair of arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding your body against a solid chest. Looking back, you felt Ardeth’s hands tighten around you as soon as you made eye contact with him. His eyes were dilated, the beautiful brown barely visible, jaws clenching when he saw your parted lips. He let go instantly, looking away and leaning down to pick up your notebook before you asked him not to.

As soon as he flipped the notebook to dust the sand off, he saw his portrait and the hieroglyphs written at the bottom, blinking confusingly a few times before handing you back the notebook and excusing himself. You wished the Nile could just flood and take you away from here. Not sure what to make of his reaction, you went back to your tent, aggressively opening the flap and throwing your things on the bed. You noticed something on the chair and picked it up, looking around to see who could have possibly come in here.

Walking outside, you saw the two guards drinking tea under a tree. Approaching them, you asked if they saw anyone go into your tent. When they told you that one of the women came back with clothes for you to wear, they accompanied her to your tent to make sure she placed it inside and took nothing. You thanked the two of them and walked back, studying the familiar gown you saw everyone wear in the village. You were glad they had given you one, not because you had nothing to wear but because you were afraid you dress might offend them. Quickly washing up, you put your hair up and put the long silky black gown on, twirling around in front of the mirror before putting your heels on and leaving. 

It was around five in the afternoon by the time you finished. You walked out and made your way to the guards to let them know you were ready. But when you got there, you saw them talking to Ardeth, bowing their heads to him when they saw you standing there and leaving. For a second, you thought he was going to argue with you and ask you to stay but as he approached you, you saw the almost reserved gaze he held. 

“Both men will stay here tonight and I will escort you to the wedding.” He said calmly and although you preferred this side of him, you couldn’t trust his sudden change of demeanor. 

“Are you serious?” Ardeth looked up at your question and you could pinpoint the moment he felt guilty but you chose to ignore it. “You do not wish to be in my company.” He said, more as a statement than a question and you hated how you denied him immediately.

“No no, that’s not what I said. Nevermind, we should probably leave. I don’t want to miss anything.” You turned around and refused to look back until you had reached the streets of the village. You realized you didn’t know where the wedding would be held but you saw some families walking towards the main church and thought to follow them. As soon as you arrived, you saw the girls from the morning standing outside. You smiled when one of them saw you and ran to welcome you in but as soon as she saw Ardeth, her eyes widened and she said something in Arabic that you did not recognize. 

And then something you’ve never seen before happened, absolutely taking your breath away and causing you to swallow the lump in your throat before approaching the other guests. Ardeth smiled at the young woman and asked her to not tell the elder of the village that he was here. You watched as he interacted with her and waved to her friends, telling her that he would rather enjoy the evening with everyone than have the attention on him. She smiled at him, telling him she will make sure no one will tell any of the administration that he was here before leaving to join her friends. 

You wished you could ask him why he said this but you thought it best to leave him alone. No need to start arguing from now. The night was young and you wanted to enjoy every moment of it. 

~III~

The ceremony was longer than you thought but you didn’t mind it. You enjoyed the hymns they sang, surprising Ardeth when you had picked up one of the books and followed along with the Coptic. You could tell he was staring at you but you ignored him, wanting to commit this to memory. When they finished and the priest announced them as man and wife, all the women began ululating and although it took you by surprise, you were glad to be a part of this. They were all so joyful, following the newly wed outside to the street as they walked to the giant tent and stage in the middle of the town. 

Not thirty minutes later, everyone was dancing and singing along with the couple. You watched as musicians played and danced around the woman and her husband, laughing when he picked her up and twirled her around. You forgot Ardeth was there and continued to watch everyone celebrate the two, but Ardeth was very much aware of your presence. 

Unbeknownst to you, he has spent months in Luxor, watching you and making sure nothing out of the ordinary took place but more importantly, making sure you were safe. He begrudgingly listened to Evy when she told him she knew his secret. He had tried to lie but Evy was clever, telling him that there was no shame in admitting the feelings he had for you. Ardeth told Evy that he could never be with you because you did not think of him the way he thought of you and up until a few hours ago, he thought Evy was lying to him when she told him that he was mistaken. 

When he saw the sketch you had of him, along with the hieroglyphs of his name and his title, he changed his mind. Maybe, just maybe, the feelings were mutual, but even then, he has been nothing but rude and condescending ever since he met you. Perhaps this was more out of curiosity than anything else, because in his mind, no woman as intelligent and beautiful as you would think of him that way. He was not from the ordinary population. This was even excluding where he came from; surely you would want to marry someone who held the same customs and traditions, perhaps even faith, as you. Why would you look at him, a man who was living proof of an ancient people, whose culture was completely different from yours, who might not give you everything you would wish for?

Ardeth was brought back to reality when he saw you standing up and leaving. He was about to follow you when he saw who it was you were approaching, sitting back down in the back along with a few others and watching as you went to the bride and the groom. 

When the young woman saw you, she tapped her husband on the shoulder to get his attention. The man thanked you for coming and told you that his wife aspired to be as kind as you one day. You were taken aback by the response, thanking the two of them and taking a small bag out of your purse. 

You told her you didn’t know what was proper to be given as a gift. She had declined it at first but when you opened it and showed it to her, both of them were surprised and asked you if you were sure. You didn’t know how to convey why you were giving it to her so you looked around to see if anyone who understood English could help you. As soon as you looked towards the back, you saw Ardeth staring right back at you. Swallowing your pride, you motioned for him to come, clasping your hands together to tell him you truly needed his help. He was next to you within moments, asking you what it was you needed.

“Could you please tell them that, as I understand, the blue scarab brings luck and keeps the evil eye away. And I wish for their marriage to always be happy and that they never struggle in anything.” You watched as he took the golden necklace, his eyes holding your gaze before he turned to the bride and told her what you said. She was surprised and said something back, her husband agreeing with her. 

“They are telling you that you are right but they could not possibly accept this.” Ardeth smiled at the couple and translated to you, watching as your expression frown in confusion. He thought it the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.  

“Why not?”

“It is made of gold and lapis lazuli Y/N, this would be the most expensive thing they own and they couldn’t take something as precious from you as this.” You almost gasped when he called you by your name, and you stopped yourself from asking him to say it again, knowing this was not the time or place for such a confrontation. 

“I know. But I want them to have it. Please, try to tell them again.” You placed your hand on his hand to turn it their way and Ardeth couldn’t help the blush that crept on his cheeks. He asked them again, telling them you knew very well what it was and that you really wanted them to have it. The couple looked at each other and back to you before taking the necklace and thanking you for it. The young woman hugged you tightly and kissed your cheeks, thanking you once more before asking her husband to put it on for her. 

You went back to your seat and sat down, waiting until a few moments passed before thanking Ardeth for helping you.

“It was nothing.” Ardeth replied, smiling again and watching as you timidly looked away, busying yourself with something other than the handsome man next to you. In that moment, everything clicked in his mind. The bickering, the shy demeanor, the quietness whenever he was around. You didn’t do these because you disliked him but because you thought of him the way he thought of you. Maybe not completely in the same way because he thought of you in such a manner that wasn’t allowed for him. Not unless you were his own to do such things with. 

You saw some of the workmen dancing around, one of them stopping when he saw you sitting next to Ardeth. He approached you and asked you if you would join him, to which you declined insistently, telling him you would only make a fool out of yourself. When he asked again and saw the way Ardeth clenched his jaws, he stopped, knowing it was unwise to anger a Medjay. You followed his gaze and saw the way Ardeth was staring at him, your heart fluttering for a moment at the thought of him being jealous. But no, that wasn’t possible. 

“Perhaps it is best if you take a week off?” You asked the man and he looked at you strangely, asking you if he understood you correctly. 

“Yes, a week. Don’t worry, you will be paid.” You smiled when he jumped and kissed your cheek before running to the other men and telling them they had a week off. You turned to look at Ardeth but he was nowhere to be found. Looking around, you didn’t find him anywhere, mind reeling back to see if you had said anything to offend him. You waited around for another hour and when he never returned, you excused yourself, bidding the couple a good night before walking back to your tent. But you were stopped by one of the girls, telling you that it was custom in their village for everyone to sit, even for a minute, with the palm reader on weddings. You never believed in these matters but thought why not, following the girl until she brought you to the older woman. 

“Sit down my dear.” The woman took your hand and pulled you down until you sat across from her. 

“You speak English?” You hadn’t meant to sound surprised but you have never met someone her age that could speak English.

“A little. I learn quickly.” She winked at you, opening the palm of your hands and drawing patterns across the lines. She remained quiet for a long time before putting your hands down and looking at you. “You have a long life ahead of you, a bright one too.” She said nothing else and you didn’t know what came over you but you asked her anyway.

“Is there love in this life?”

“There could be.”

“What do you mean?” Before you finished your question, the woman was bringing out a small piece of paper, handing it to you to see your reaction. When you opened it, you read the few lines written in Coptic and turned to look at her once more. You knew what it was. You had seen something similar at your time in Oxford when Professor Maspero brought you his findings and although you didn’t believe in such things, you were not one to tempt your luck. “Thank you, but I think it is best if I leave.” You handed the paper back to her, watching as she smiled and nodded your way.

“To be wise at such a young age. May Allah bless you and keep you safe my child. And to answer your question, there is. And you will not need such charms to make it so, for the one you seek has always had his eyes set on you and no one else.” You didn’t have time to say anything before the woman was standing up and walking away, leaving you more confused than before. Silently leaving the festivities, you made you way back to the excavation grounds, your legs leading you to the shores of the river rather than your tent. There was no way you could sleep after hearing the old woman’s words.

~IV~

You returned to the same spot you always sat in to watch the sunset every day, looking up at the sky and marveling at the many stars and constellations so visible at night. But your mind quickly returned to the old woman’s fortune; did she mean what you thought she meant? It couldn’t have been possible that she knew your feelings, let alone Ardeth’s. But she was so sure of herself.

You dug into your purse and pulled out your notebook, returning to the familiar page once more and passing your fingers over his name.

“You know, I never thought of how my name could mean something else.” You turned around when you heard Ardeth call behind you, not bothering to tell him that he almost made you drop your notebook again. When you said nothing, he continued.

“May I join you?” He asked and you could tell he was fully expecting you to tell him off. But when you nodded and motioned for him to sit next to you, he did so quietly. 

“What do you mean?” You asked him, not bothering to hide the page from him anymore. He silently asked if he could see your notebook and pencil, and you handed them over. He traced his callous fingers over his name in hieroglyphs, reading them out loud and smiling at you.

𓄿𓂋𓌗 𓂞𓇌𓏏𓏛 𓃀𓇋𓄿𓎡𓅄𓅆

“Ꜣr dı͗t bı͗k…”

“The one who makes the driving away from the falcon.” You repeated after him, watching as his smile brightened even more so than before. Then you saw him scribbling something down right next to the last part of his name. 

𓃀𓇋𓄿𓈅𓏤𓈐

“bı͗Ꜣ? As in path?” You asked him, trying to see what his name would mean now.

“The one who makes the driving away from the path,” he whispered, then pointed to the tattoo on his forehead and his cheeks. He watched as the meaning of his name dawned on you.

“The one who makes the driving away from the path of the netherworld through maat.” You responded, smiling when he nodded at you and told you he preferred your interpretation better.

“Why?” “As I see it, it was our role to protect Pharaoh who was the manifestation of Horus on earth. It makes sense that my name parallels the old ‘job description’...to drive away Horus from his demise and being taken into the underworld.” He handed you back your notebook and looked towards the river, watching as the waters softly hit the shores.

“Do all the Medjay have those as well?” You asked, hoping he found no offense in your curiosity. 

“No, just the chieftain. But all of us hold names that correspond to an element of our past lives.” He continued, turning to look at you once again and hoping he could find it in himself to apologize for all the times he disrespected you. You met his gaze before looking away immediately. It was hard to maintain eye contact with him, his eyes making you feel as if he was staring into your soul. Then you felt his hand rest on your own in the sand, looking down and seeing his fingers clasping yours harshly. Your heart was beating against your chest and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. 

When you turned to face him again, he was already staring at your lips, and you couldn’t help it, licking them and mirroring his actions before leaning in towards him. Ardeth didn’t want to move, afraid he would break this trance between the two of you, but when he saw you moving towards him, something completely otherworldly took over. 

He let go of your hand and cupped your cheeks, pulling you towards him and taking your lips aggressively in a hungry kiss. You gasped into the sudden motions, hands fisting in his clothes to hold onto him so you didn’t fall over. Ardeth took this as a sign of submission, pushing you down on the sand and cornering you between his arms. When you moaned against him, he snuck his tongue past your lips, exploring your skin like it was a new oasis. His hands crept into your hair before rolling down your form, holding onto your waist and squeezing you against him to feel every inch of you. 

You didn’t know what to do, torn between pushing him away to ask him about the sudden change of heart and begging him to take you to your tent and have his way with you. When he felt your nails dig into his shoulders, he pulled away, his breath fanning over your cheeks and his eyes memorizing your blissed out facial expression. When you finally opened your eyes, you had already regulated your breathing, pulling your hands away and keeping them to yourself. You hoped he would understand and move away, and when he didn’t, you looked anywhere but him.

Ardeth finally understood what you were silently asking him, moving away and sitting up slowly. Before he could say anything else, you were standing up and running away to your place. He knew calling after you wouldn’t do him any good so he sat by himself for a while. When the night air turned colder, he stood up and was about to go to the other guards when he saw your notebook lying on the ground. 

Picking it up, he dusted the sand off and made his way to your tent. The Medjay saw him approaching and stood up, greeting him before returning to their posts. 

“wḏi.” The command passed his lips angrily, and the two subordinates knew not to question him. They stood up and walked back to the village, leaving Ardeth standing outside your tent. He had spent hours committing to memory the pass of your tongue against his, every smooth touch of your skin against his rough fingers. Without thinking much of it, he walked into your tent to place your notebook on the nightstand, telling himself to not look at you even for a moment. 

But his self control flew with the breeze, his eyes turning back and seeing your naked figure under the thin covers. He could tell you were naked, for your entire back was exposed to his gaze. Gently, he reached over and rolled the cover until you were shielded from his eyes. You looked so beautiful in your sleep, hair forming a halo on the pillow. He knew this was wrong but he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. Slowly, he traced the blush on your cheeks up to your hair, brushing the few strands aside to take a closer look at you.

“A-ardeth…” His name spilling from your lips pushed him back to reality, pulling away and exiting the tent immediately out of fear of himself. He bit his tongue to distract himself from the familiar ache creeping into his groin whenever you were around. It was much worse now however, because he knew what his name sounded like when you moaned it in your sleep. Sitting near the fire, Ardeth removed his knife and picked up a large tree branch, cutting away to distract himself from the sleeping figure not twenty feet away from him. 

Unbeknownst to him, you were very much awake when he entered your tent. For a moment, you were afraid it was not him but when leaned over to cover your body, you could smell his scent, one that you were more familiar with now more than before. You knew he would not try to force himself on you and when he brushed your hair, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your throat in the form of his name. He was gone a moment later, leaving you a mess beneath your covers. You wished you could bring him back to your bed, tell him you ran away because you were afraid of offending him by asking him to do something that may not be acceptable in his culture and not because you were refusing him. 

You slept knowing the old woman was truthful in everything she had told you, and Ardeth laid awake through the night thinking you ran away because you did not want him. 

~V~

You woke up earlier than usual, making yourself exceptionally presentable before exiting the tent. You walked out prepared to face Ardeth and try to make small talk so he doesn’t feel awkward but he was nowhere to be found. You hated when he did that and he seemed to do that a lot around you. You saw the two guards, who you now knew were Medjay, standing around and talking. When they saw you, they bowed their heads before returning to their conversation. 

You didn’t bother to look for him, going about your day as you normally would have and hoping you could be productive instead of thinking about him. You continued recording mounds of interest in your notebook, walking around the area near the mosque and straying away from the major area to the west of the temple. You never came to this part of the grounds, knowing Professor Maspero had already discovered the Chapel of the goddess Mut. There was no way he would’ve missed anything, he was a thorough man. But in your attempt to not topple over the rocks, you skipped a step and fell on your face on top of what used to be a column in the hypostyle hall of the temple. 

“For god’s sake,” you whispered to yourself, looking for your pencil and dusting off your pants. You cursed under your breath when you saw your pants have ripped at the knee. Resting on the column, your eyes passed through a relief that seemed oddly familiar. Ignoring the pain in your legs, you tried to wipe the sand as much as possible from the relief, eyes widening in surprise when you realized what the relief was.

Frantically standing up, you picked up your notebook to mark where you were on the site before discarding it again, kneeling down and dusting off as much as you could without damaging the column. 

There, engraved in large letters, was a Coptic inscription surrounding a cross that was most likely carved over a hieroglyphs. You almost screamed at the sheer luck, marking the area before running to your tent to grab your tools. The guards saw you running around frantically and were about to ask you when they saw you jumping out of your tent with your small kit. They knew not to disturb you when you were working. 

You returned to the column and brushed away from the column before grabbing a shovel and removing the rubble from around the column. You’ve never had to do this much work in your years of excavations but you didn’t care, this was far more rewarding than anything. You looked like a wild woman by the time you cleared the column, sitting down to sketch as many of the reliefs as you could. The Coptic would have to wait, you had no energy for this today. 

When you returned to your tent, the two guards saw the state of you and asked if anything happened to you. You explained what took place and told them that dinner was on you, giving one of them money to fetch food from the village. The men thanked you and told you they would tell you when the food was here. 

You went back in to bathe, knowing you looked like an absolute mess of a woman and that you should not be in their company in such a manner. You were about to unbutton your shirt when someone walked into the tent.

“That was quick. You must’ve been truly hungry to-” The words died in your throat when you turned around and saw Ardeth standing at the entrance. You said nothing, silently kicking yourself for not returning sooner and cleaning up. The last thing you needed was to look filthy in front of him. But none of this compared to the way he was looking at you, like a predator ready to devour his prey. 

His eyes softened, however, when he saw you the state of your knees and the dried blood on the beige pants. Without thinking much of it, he stepped towards you, kneeling down to inspect your skin.

“What happened?”

“I- there was a…” You couldn’t think of a coherent sentence, the feeling of his warm hands wrapped around your legs too distracting. “I was just walking around and quite literally fell upon a new discovery. Did you know there was an old church built in this temple?” Ardeth ignored your rambling, asking you to sit down on the chair while he fetched a clean cloth and some water. You didn’t dare argue with him, silently taking a seat and rolling up your pants for him. He came back with a small amphora filled with cold water and a cloth. His blood thrummed in his ears as soon as he saw your skin. And although he tried to hide himself, you couldn’t help but smile at the blush that crept across his cheeks. 

Gently, he sat down and held your calves, cursing himself for thinking he could do this without making a fool out of himself. 

“You should be more careful Y/N.” There it was again, your name whispered so softly and causing you shake. Ardeth felt goosebumps erupting on your skin, barely holding back the smile of pride at being the cause of such a reaction. You nodded, not trusting your voice just yet. He was tender in every touch, slowly dabbing the wet cloth around the inflamed area before treating the other knee in a similar fashion. Like the previous night, something took over him and he couldn’t hold himself back, leaning down and kissing your knees, telling you to watch the wounds when you washed.

When Ardeth looked up, he saw the frenzy swimming in your eyes, and he could only smile at you when your lips parted to attempt and thank him. 

“I will wash this for you.” He raised the blood stained cloth and you tried to stop him but he insisted, telling you it was nothing. When he left your tent, you were sure your heart was close to jumping out of your chest. It was such a minor touch but it boiled your blood, knowing what his lips felt like on your skin yet again. Shaking your head, you went to the corner of the tent to wash up quickly, your heart already leaping at the thought of seeing him again. 

But then something broke your trance. God you could not never have the heart to refuse this man if he asked you to have him, but you also couldn’t bear it if you were to tempt him to do something that went against his culture, even religion. Come to think of it, your knowledge of the Medjay’s religious beliefs was minimal. You had spent a long time with them when you were with Evy and Rick, seeing many of them walking into the mosque in their village during the day to pray. But you also saw your two guards walking out of Mass on Sunday morning numerous times, singing some of their hymns as they walked back to their post. 

Either way, you could not possibly be the cause that Ardeth strayed from his beliefs. You had respected him far too much to tempt him or place him in an unpleasant situation with whatever religious leader he knew. You were very much aware of your position, not just as a stranger to the culture and religions but also as a woman that did not care for the rules revolving around physical relationships. It was one of the things that had many men and women of your social circle angry and whisper about. You only had one or two affairs with men but you still valued yourself, just not in the same way that women of your society did. You did not care for the limiting rules set upon you by the Catholic church or English culture. Thankfully, neither did your parents, always telling you to follow your heart and not care for what anyone thought of you. You were only Catholic by name after all, not by belief.  

But you couldn’t apply this advice now. You cared what Ardeth thought of you and you did not want him to think you were “easy,” neither did you want him to see you as a prude. So you reeled back all thoughts of approaching him, wanting to give the two of you some time to test the waters. You took your time in the bath, slowly washing yourself to make sure the wound did not bleed again. It was an hour later when you emerged from the water, wrapping a towel around yourself before rubbing another around your hair. 

But when you emerged from behind the wooden screen, you saw Ardeth walking in to place the urn and cloth near your bed. When he turned around, his body went tense, hands shaking at the sight of you and eyes blinking slowly. Neither of you moved for a few moments. You waited to see what he would do, chest rising and falling when you saw the way his eyes took you in. You saw his adam’s apple bob up before resting back in its place and you thought, ‘20 seconds of courage.’

Throwing the hair towel away, you walked up to him, standing a few inches away from his rigid torso. 

“You are treading on dangerous grounds Y/N.” Ardeth whispered, his nose flaring when the scent of lavender hit his senses. He was losing every ounce of control coursing through his veins and he wished you would step away before he did something he might regret. Slowly, you reached your hands towards him to cup his cheeks, watching as he shut his eyes to control himself. You saw his jaws clenched tightly, fists cracking from how harshly he was holding himself back. Leaning forward, you brushed your lips against his own before pulling back.

“Tell them to leave.” That was all Ardeth needed for confirmation, setting the animal loose and wrapping his arms around you before devouring your lips. His hands fisted in your damp hair, pulling your neck back so he could lay kisses all over your skin. You moaned loudly against him, causing him to clamp his hand on your mouth in fear of the men hearing you. Reluctantly pulling away, Ardeth told you to remain in your spot until he got rid of the two guards. You barely held yourself up when he left you to walk out of the tent. 

You could hear him ordering the two men, and telling them to not return unless they saw Horus. Both men responded their agreement and left, and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed because they probably knew why their chieftain ordered them so aggressively to leave. 

Ardeth walked back in and tied the knots of the entrance, walking around all sides of the tent to make sure there were no visible windows or holes or even entrances for anyone to disturb the two of you. When he came back to you, he saw you looking at the ground, arms set at your sides shyly.

“You do not owe me anything Y/N, certainly not your body. I can leave now if you wish me to.” It broke his heart to tell you such things but he never wanted to force you to do anything you did not wish to do. When you looked up at him and blinked, he knew your answer. 

And before he could do anything, you were loosening the knot of the towel, letting it fall to the floor to leave you naked to his eyes. Ardeth was having a hard time, in more ways than one, maintaining his nerves. His heart skipped a beat at seeing you bare in front of him and he knew there was no holding back anymore when you looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

"يا اللة."

My god.

~VI~

As soon as he whispered those two words, you were on him like the water clinging to your skin, not caring about any consequences to your actions. Ardeth embraced you with as much passion, swallowing your cries when his hands got bolder with every pass over your skin. He was a much more aggressive lover than you thought and perhaps it was due to the sexual tension between the two of you in the past few weeks. 

He pulled away and you noticed that he held a direct gaze, not a playful expression in sight. You whined at the loss of his lips and if he were any other man, Ardeth would have smiled and felt a sense of pride for having this much of an effect on you. But he wasn’t another man. He was a starved man and you were exactly what he yearned for in decades. Ardeth couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this strongly to another woman. The last time he was in a relationship, be it physical or emotional, was so long ago that he couldn’t remember who it was. He was a young boy who thought being with a woman would make him a man but he knew soon after it was not this simple.

His lips sucked at the juncture of your neck and noticed you biting your lips to prevent any sound from escaping past them. His fingers squeezed your waist and brought you closer to him harshly, a part of him knowing he should slow down and cherish every inch of you in a perhaps gentler manner. But you were finally in his arms, and he couldn’t bring himself to hold back, not when you were so responsive to his mean and quick touches. He bit down a little harshly on your clavicle and a part of him wished it was to hear your noises and not to mark you as his, but he would dwell on that later. When you finally moaned against him, he eased the hold he had on your hips and pulled away to take you in. “Do not silence yourself Y/N, your sounds belong to me,” he gasped when you visibly shuddered against him, his hands shaking when he felt your nails dig into his arms. “Sweet music to my ears…”

You didn’t know what came over you but no sooner than his hoarse request were your moans loud enough to be heard from the river. He continued his assault on your flushed skin, nipping and licking every inch of you until you surrendered yourself to his hands. You tugged at his shoulder, fisting your fingers in his robes before reaching for his turban. Loosening the scarves away from his head, you watched as his hair fell down past his cheeks and framed his handsome features. Ardeth looked up and saw the way your eyes gazed at him and he felt relief wash over him because he was not the only one who felt this unbearable need.

You leaned forward and Ardeth thought you were going to kiss him but then you pulled his hair and exposed his neck for you, sucking on his adam’s apple and feeling his shaking hands wrap around your entire body. “My heart aches for you Y/N-” Ardeth couldn’t help the growl that flew past his vocal cords, his hands shaking violently when you continued to bite his throat time and again. He wasn’t sure if he was this sensitive because it has been decades since he was touched in such a manner or if it was because you were the one claiming his body. “It yearns for you when the sun rises each morning and- ahhh by the gods woman...and craves you when it sets past the Nile.”

If it were any other woman, Ardeth was sure she would be turned off by his words. They weren’t seductive in any way, but he knew you. He knew your preferences, your likes and dislikes, perhaps already understood what you desired after even though he has not been an hour in your bed. Somehow, however, he sensed your appreciation for the sensual and romantic words he uttered and he continued to test both his resolve and yours with every affection he emoted. And he was right to think so because within minutes, he had your body willing and ready for him. You should have expected him to have such a sinful tongue and you rubbed your thighs when Ardeth moaned shamelessly at your equally-aggressive hands. He was more vocal than any of your previous lovers and you found that you enjoyed it immensely.  

“Ardeth, please just...take these off. I need to feel your skin. I want to touch you, kiss you, look at every inch of you.” Ardeth smiled at your lack of patience, not warning you as he leaned down and carried you to the bed. He laid you down gently before standing over you, shaking his head when he saw the way you grabbed at your breasts to seduce him.

“You are a vixen, the most beautiful my eyes have seen.” Ardeth licked his lips as he looked you over, undoing his robes slowly to fill his mind’s eye with you. You arched your back and moaned when you saw his bare skin through the robes, not caring that you were being forward when you grabbed his robes and pulled him towards you. Ardeth stepped confusingly towards you, hissing when he felt your hands palm him through the black material.

“Y/N, I- I thought your hand would calm this heat I feel for you, but- oh gods, ahhh you- you have done little to quench this fire.” His words went straight to your core and you began to pull at the clothes until they pooled at his feet. Before he could step out of them, you were leaning forward and kissing his hard member, hands kneading and teasing the base until he was panting mess above you.

“Ahhh gods, my love you’re- you are truly talented.” Ardeth tries his hardest to focus on your blissed-out expression but he fails as soon as he feels the palm of your hand close around the tip of his erection. He manages to open his eyes and look down just in time to see you lick the protruding vein ending right below the head and he almost loses himself right then and there. As much as it pains him, he fists his hand in your hair and pulls you off of him before pushing you down on your bed and standing once more. He holds a dangerous and warning gaze and you understand why he silently asks you to not touch him again. You shamelessly look at him as he moves around, watching the way his muscles flex whenever he pulls an article of clothing off aggressively. 

You almost giggle at how quick he is but you hold back, afraid of making him think you are laughing at him. His mind freezes when he stands up and turns to you, unable to look away from where your fingers are. Ardeth raises a curious eyebrow, slowly kneeling down on the bed before approaching you like a lion waiting to devour his prey at the proper time. He is almost angry at the way your eyes challenge him but he chooses to think past the brave aura, gently parting your thighs wider so he could take a better look at the motion of your fingers. He growls, silently chuckling when he sees your legs shake at the sound. You stop your actions altogether and suddenly realize just how dry your mouth is.

“Do not stop on my account Y/N,” Ardeth’s voice is deeper than normal and you whine at his self-control. You had thought he would take you as soon as his guards left but he proved to be a more patient man than you thought. “Ardeth please, please-” You stop breathing when he leans down between your parted thighs, licking your navel and blowing air on the wet skin until you reach for him. Slowly descending down your body, Ardeth holds your gaze and squeezes your buttocks before whispering against your heat, “unless you want me to stop, you will be patient. Remove your hands.” You obey him instantly, letting go of his shoulders before pulling on the bed sheets violently to have some semblance of control.

He hums in approval and returns to the task at hand. A part of him wished he would be gentleman-like with you, but his mind was losing the last bit of control and he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. Shutting his eyes, he leaned down and licked your core once, twice to open you up for him. As soon as you threw your head back in pleasure, he did what his mind dreamed of doing to you for months, years even. Not caring for how filthy it must have looked, let alone sounded, Ardeth poked your wet lips with his nose and took a long whiff of your scent, groaning when the sweet smell swept straight to his groin. Your eyes shot open and glanced down at him immediately, gasping at the obscenity of his actions. Ardeth was afraid he scared you but when he turned his attention back to your heat, he saw proof of your arousal leaking down your thighs.

He smiled and glanced back at you, maintaining eye contact as he licked you dry. You were embarrassed but for a moment, moaning his name over and over again as he pleasured you until you could no longer feel anything but him. 

“Ardeth, ahhh pl-please Ardeth I-” he didn’t let you finish, sucking on your wet core vigorously before pushing down on your lower abdomen to keep you still for him. As soon as you felt his fingers part your sensitive core, your hands fisted in his long locks and pulled on it. You had expected him to cease his actions or ask you to be patient again but the opposite occurred. Ardeth coated his fingers with your pleasure before pushing them against you, exploring your body with his quick digits while he continued to nip and lick at the protruding bundle of nerves. He was slowly driving you mad with his ministrations and you managed to keep whatever control remained because the last thing you needed was for the whole village to know what is transpiring in your tent. 

But then he curled his fingers inside you and increased pressure once, twice, three times until he felt your back arch off the bed. You couldn’t hold back anymore, clenching around his fingers as he brought you to the utmost pleasure and when you begged him to stop, he refused, wanting to coax another petite mort out of you before he pulled away. Ardeth raised himself just in time to see you let go once more, his eyes taking in your features before slowly descending down your body. Your skin was glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath you took and Ardeth almost lost his mind when he saw how perky and flushed your breasts were. When he saw how spent you looked, he pushed his fingers inside you one last time before taking them out and rubbing your thighs to soothe you. You fell back onto the bed, hair disheveled and lips parted from how hard you were breathing. As soon as you managed to look at him, Ardeth took this chance and licked his fingers dry before slowly ascending your body.

He left a trail of kisses on your skin, occasionally nipping an area he found desirable and you smiled when he came face to face with your breasts. You couldn’t hold back the scandalous moan that emanated when he leaned down and took a pert nipple between his teeth, fondling the other until you felt pleasure from the pain of his touches. 

“I- I’m sensitive there Ardeth,” your attempt at warning him did little to nothing, only edging him further in his actions until you were a mess beneath him again. “All the more reason to devour you Y/N. You torment me with your moans. Your whispers of my name...in the name of the ogdoad, forgive me. Do not reproach me for losing myself in your beauty. If you choose to deny me this, then send me away this instance for I cannot...will not hold back any longer.” You were overcome with warmth at the intensity of his words, knowing it must be hard for him to say such words given the nature of his quiet personality, let alone the position he was in. “You fill me with desire from head to foot Y/N. My love shall never be veiled again.” He continued his assault on your breasts and you continued praying his name when you felt his shaft leaking on your belly. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you were absolutely certain of one thing: Ardeth was the last man you would allow in your bed because you knew in your heart that no one else was capable of loving you as much as he does, not just physically, but emotionally. 

“I have wanted you for so long, and I- ahhh god your tongue drips of sin, and I pleasured myself at night, imagining how you would touch me, h-how your skin would feel against mine, how rough you would be when you lose control, and-” you took a deep breath, holding back what you wanted to say for fear of making him think you were ill-mannered. But he has not once held back from you this night. As a matter of fact, Ardeth has done the opposite, voicing his desires proudly before stealing orgasm after another from you. You found courage through his actions and whispered to him what you have wanted for so long. “And I dreamed of feeling you so deep inside me, giving you pleasure with avidity until you stilled my torments.” You wrapped your legs around him, not giving him a chance to contemplate on your actions before gyrating your hips into his verge until you felt him rub against your damp core. 

Ardeth shuddered in your arms, his surprise turning into firm touches as he wrapped one arm around your back while the other hand smoothed down your hips. He leaned down and captured your lips in a hungry kiss, his hand pushing your lower back into him to control the motion of your hips. He could feel himself nestled between your thighs, moaning and sucking on your tongue when he sensed how dripping wet you were for him.

“You drive me mad woman,” Ardeth smiled against your mouth before reaching up and pulling on your hair to get more access to your neck. He bit down wherever he could as he felt your desire drench his thighs. You would tell him later that you preferred nothing more than feeling his chest slide against yours, not because of how toned and muscular it was but because of how rough it was to the touch. The friction his chest hair caused was painful yet it ignited a fire within you instantaneously. 

“Please, please just-”

“What do you need Y/N, I will give you anything.” Ardeth was breathing just as harshly as you, if not more. He gazed into your eyes, watching the brewing storm erupt as he rolled his hips against you. You dug your nails into his back, the other holding onto his hair when you couldn’t take it any longer.

“I need you, Ardeth, I need you now. Please, I- I burn for you… need to embrace you,” and for good measure, you stretched your hand between your bodies, grabbing his painfully hard member and rubbing it between your parted lips. “Let me embrace you, let me quench this radiating fire.” You pronounced each word with a rough pass over your core and Ardeth prayed your name until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed your wrist aggressively, slamming it above your head and pushing you down until he felt your submission and before you could whine again, he was spitting in his hand, proud of the response he received from you at the sudden and audacious action. He stroked himself a few times before lining himself up against you, slowly pushing past your slit into your heat until he felt completely engulfed by your silky walls. You ceased to breathe as you felt the intrusion reach deeper, refusing to tell him to stop because even though he was filling you to the hilt, you still craved him. 

Ardeth could barely hold himself above you, his arms threatening to give out beneath him from the immense pleasure. He wasn’t sure if you were purposely clenching violently around him or not, but all he knew was that he has never felt such satisfaction in his life. And he silently cursed you for feeling so tight and inviting because he knew very well no other woman would compare to you. Neither in your intellect and wittiness, nor your beauty and perfection. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought because he never thought he would have the neural capacity to applaud your brilliance when he was this deep inside you. 

You didn’t know why he was laughing and you hoped it wasn’t because you didn’t live up to his expectations. You loosened your hold on him and he noticed, gazing down at you and seeing the inquisitive expression you held. Brushing your hair aside, he refused to look anywhere but your doe-like orbs as he soothed the slight hint of panic away from your skin.

“You have, without a doubt, utterly ruined all women for me Y/N,” Ardeth claimed shamelessly before pulling himself out, and refusing to move until he made sure you were content. When he saw you release your breath and throw your head back, he thrust back in a little vigorously than intended. Before he could apologize for his lack of patience, he heard you faintly whispering for him.

“Ardeth, d-don’t hold back. Take your pleasure, please. I- I want you to ruin me...ahh god, want you to brand my soul.” You pulled him down to you, kissing the corner of his mouth and licking his jaw, enticing him until he lost all self-control and took from you what you dreamed of giving him ever since you laid eyes on him in the desert long ago. At your request, Ardeth lost himself, moving in and out between your thighs without remorse. He hummed against the juncture of your neck, the grip he held on your hair getting tighter with every passing minute. You turned your head to the side, sighing and moaning his name as he roughly drove himself into you. 

You bit his wrist, causing him to lose his balance for a moment before growling and thrusting into you. “If- ahhh gods, if one time will not suffice to quench your fire, I shall do it again to satisfy you. You have bewitched me body and soul Y/N, m nb pt I surrender myself to you.” You felt a sudden flare of lightning strike across your abdomen as soon as he spoke in his native tongue, unintentionally clenching harder around him and causing him to scream into the night air. Even though he spoke little in his language, you couldn’t help but imagine him continue to do so as he brought you to the utmost pleasure. Ardeth noticed your responsiveness to his words and he felt pride deep in his lungs at the thought of knowing he was the cause of such a reaction. 

His pace began to falter, knowing very well he could not last any longer because of how perfect and velvety you felt around him. He set a punishing pace nonetheless, wanting to feel you fall over the edge with him. Taking hold of your chin, he turned you to face him before claiming your mouth again, not caring that he might draw some blood from his aggressive actions. The only sounds heard in the tent were your moans, and his skin slapping against your own. It drove him mad hearing your arousal seep down your thighs with every pass of his verge past your slit. 

“sttyt nṯr ꜥꜣ, come with me, please Y/N, come for me. Now!” For god knows what time that night, Ardeth bit down on your skin, somehow managing to thrust into you harder than before until you couldn’t control your own body. He felt your orgasm before you had the chance to tell him, shuddering against you as he released himself deep inside you. You arched your back against him as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, the intensity of your gratification terrifying your heart. You never realized you were capable of feeling such things and yet here you were, in the arms of the man you never thought you could get close to until a few hours ago.

As you opened your eyes, you saw dilated pupils staring right back at you. It seemed comical that you felt naked under his potent gaze and actually attempted to cover yourself. His grip on you hardened, silently telling you to never attempt such a thing again.

“What have you done to me woman? Not even I had any control over myself.” He whispered before smiling and leaning down to kiss you passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you, feeling the muscles of his back shift under your touch as he moved to pull himself out of you. Ardeth fell to the side, reaching for the covers before bringing you to him. You laid beneath his neck, pushing your thighs around his legs and chuckling when he warned you with a huff. Ardeth tried his hardest to think of anything but your hard nipples teasing his chest and he realized he could never be able to not think of you as long as you were in his embrace.

~VII~

“This is not the time, and perhaps I should have inquired before...this...but I wanted to apologize if I caused you to do or say anything against your ways.” There was no other manner you could state what you wanted to tell him and you hoped he wouldn’t be offended by your boldness. You sighed when you heard him chuckle for a second, turning your gaze to him to study his facial expression.

“The chieftain of the Medjay is seldom a follower of any religion besides the old one. As far as I know, he can only belong to the old traditions and it is not our custom to hold such things as taboo before marriage. If anything, it is I who should apologize for being incapable of stopping this before it escalated.” He played with your hair, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the seriousness of his voice. 

“Why?”

“You often wear a cross around your neck and I could only assume you are Christian.”

“I was raised one but never believed in any of it. There are too many similarities between the Ancient Religion and Christianity, and do not tell my family any of this, but I genuinely believe Christianity stole its stories and beliefs from your religion. If I were to ever follow a tradition, it would be the Ancient Egyptian one. Horus knows I swear by his name all the time.” You never expected to hear Ardeth laugh this loudly but he did so and you couldn’t look away from the beautiful expression he held. The sound was so pure you almost begged him to do it again. Both of you remained quiet for a few minutes, and he occasionally smiled when you continued to draw patterns on his chest. 

After a while, Ardeth broke the silence and surprised you yet again. “I have spent many nights imagining what it would feel like to have you naked and willing in my arms, and now that I am here, I cannot fathom how divine you are.” You blushed under his gaze and Ardeth knew he would do everything in his power to see that blush creep down your breasts once more.

“bı͗ꜣyt.ı͗, my heart belongs to you.” You continued to stare at him, and he sighed in relief when you graced him with a shy smile. Slowly, you sat up and cupped his cheek, tracing the hieroglyphs on his handsome features before touching each one with your lips. You could feel him smiling against your neck and sighed when his grip tightened around your waist. 

“And mine is yours, wbnnı͗.ı͗.” Ardeth couldn’t help himself, grabbing your neck and pushing you down to kiss you before wrapping his arms around you to keep you as close to him as possible. You laid your head back on his chest and shut your eyes, the feeling of tranquility slowly washing over you as you focused on the beat of his heart. Finally, since decades, Ardeth felt content, knowing he would never allow himself to embrace another woman and would fight an entire army before he lets another man touch you. You remained in each other’s arms for the duration of the night, letting the sounds of the Nile lull you into a deep sleep, knowing that everything was, at long last, as it should be. 

Tagging some people who expressed excitement at the idea of this fic:

@feelmyroarrrr @thorodinsvn @oplunket16 @vvigilantes @the-rookie-97  @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @buckylokihoes @redqueen1221 @kuronekotsiigan @sai-kida134 @wonderwolfstrash @commissioner23 @valeks-princess @libbymouse @taliaalghuldeservesbetter @ruby-white-rabbit​ @jamdropx35​ @dramadreamer14​ @tnupsweetpie​ @jessicahoppes @la--petit--croissant @kandomeresbitch​ @pleasantdreamqueen​

[dailyaudiobible]

03/17/2021 DAB Transcript

Numbers 26:1-51, Luke 2:36-52, Psalms 60:1-12, Proverbs 11:15

Today is the 17th day of March welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it's great to be here with you today as we move through the center of our week right here at the center of our month. It’s been quite a week. We’re in the gospel of Luke. And, so, this week we read of the coming of John the Baptist. we read of the birth of Jesus. And in the book of Numbers, we have read the story of Balaam and Balak and have applied that to our lives. So, let's take the next step forward. We’re reading from the God's Word translation this week. Numbers chapter 26 versus 1 through 51.

Commentary:

Okay. I think it was the day before yesterday in the gospel of Luke that we read of John the Baptist or John the one that would grow to be John the Baptist of the story surrounding his birth. And we did that in the context of saying like John didn't just show up magically at the Jordan River and everybody just went down to see the crazy man walking in out of the desert, that there was a story surrounding his life that people would have known and watched as he grew up. And then even as he went into the wilderness, when he came back out of the wilderness to the Jordan River calling people to repentance there was a story around him. Everybody was looking to see what would become of him and then they realized he was a prophet of God. We have similar things with Jesus. Obviously, the angelic visitations letting the shepherds know and then the following of the star. Like all of those things would announce the arrival of the Savior, certainly. So, like with the shepherds, you can only imagine how many people they told of what they had seen. Whether they were believed or not, the story began to spread. You can only imagine the wise men making their journey and then returning back after having seen the child and spreading the word. Like, the story is beginning to get out. And then Mary and Joseph take Jesus to the temple to dedicate Him to God and offer the appropriate sacrifices and there's prophetic utterances over Him. This is happening in the temple complex. People would see this, wonder about it, talk about it. Maybe it wouldn't spread all over the nation to every far-reach, but it will be something that was talked about. And, so, Jesus with his family, they would make an annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem. So, Jesus was familiar enough with the temple. And, so, it wouldn't be like a terrible stretch into the realm of fantasy, and believe me, plenty in the realm of fantasy around Jesus Christ. But it wouldn't be here in the realm of fantasy to say, okay annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Passover was a part of the story of Jesus upbringing. We get that from the Gospels. So, if you were visiting the temple complex on an annual basis it's not a stretch that some of the people who were around Him as an infant, would begin to see Him become a toddler, would begin to see Him growing up and know who He was. But then we have this episode where Jesus is 12 years old, and we read this today where they've done exactly that. They've gone to Jerusalem for the Passover and then they've left. And that's 90 miles roughly on foot from Jerusalem back to the Galilee near…near Nazareth. So, they would travel in caravans for safety, but also, it's a long way. So, they would travel in caravans. And, so, they assume Jesus was among them when He wasn't. That right there, like that part of the story if we enter into it as a parent, that’s a terrifying to thing, that’s a terrifying thing to think that you’ve lost your kid in a major metropolitan world center. And, you know, you discover this when you're a day’s journey just to get back, just to start looking. So, they are several days removed from Jesus, at least five days removed from Jesus when they end up finding Him because they traveled a day away from Jerusalem and they travel a day back to Jerusalem and it took them three more days to find Jesus in the temple. So, you know, they’ve gotta be freaking out. Nevertheless, they find Jesus in the temple complex and He's learning and He's being taught and He's asking questions and He's answering questions and He is amazing. Like He is absolutely getting the attention of the rabbis who are there in Jerusalem. This would be the elite leaders and teachers who work in the temple of God and He's answering them adequately to the point that they’re stunned by Him. Of course, as the story goes when Jesus’ parents find Him, they ask Him why He did this to them. And He says I must be about my father's business, but the next thing you know, He submits to them, they go back to Nazareth. This is not the kind of thing that would be forgotten. Like, if a…a kid is speaking among the scholars and speaking coherently and asking important questions and…and giving answers and perspectives in a way that is amazing or stunning to the elite leaders, to the scholars of the Torah, then this is not something that is gonna just be forgotten. This is something that they would’ve been talking about for days after the fact and wondering similar things as they were wondering about John. What's gonna become of this kid? Something special is happening. My point here isn’t like a theological point or something that we gotta hold up and apply to our lives. It's the context here. It's just having some sense of a back story. When Jesus began His ministry and began to speak with authority the Scriptures tell the people found that to be amazing, that He was amazing, that He was stunning, that what He said was not like what anybody else was saying. He spoke with authority. He spoke as if He knew what He was talking about. So, when the word spread that there was this rabbi up in Galilee, this person doing this kind of teaching, eventually word would've been like, what…what's His name? Well, His name was Jesus. Dots would've been connecting. That's that kid. That’s that kid that was up here in the temple when His parents left Him in Jerusalem. That’s that kid. And we get clues about this from the…the other gospel narratives, that Jesus began His ministry and was beginning to make waves. Rabbis, people traveled all the way from Jerusalem. Again, they walked 90 miles to hear Him. And we can see through the Gospels that the people who were making that kind of trek, like the scholars, like the elite, they were not antagonistic toward Jesus at first. It…it wasn’t a situation where right from the get-go they wanted Him dead. They were coming to check Him out. It took a while for that enmity to grow, and it mostly came out of Jesus calling the truth, exposing the darkness, especially among the religious. That definitely got Jesus on the wrong side…well…on the wrong side of the law, you might say. Because in the end He was condemned as a blasphemer, a lawbreaker. So, let’s just understand that. Jesus wasn't born, and then He disappeared and then He just reappeared like some kind of magical apparition with magical powers and then people flocked to Him and nobody knew what was going on. This was an ongoing thing. And to look into this and just have a little bit of a context, this is kind of the only way that we get a bit of context about Jesus early life. There's very…just very, very little in the Gospels between His birth and the beginning of His ministry. So, for example, this account of…well…everything that we've read here about Jesus in the temple when He’s an infant and then…then they go back to Nazareth. That is in the gospel of Luke, whereas in the Gospel of Matthew that also has an emphasis, an infancy narrative. They…they end up fleeing to Egypt for a season. And, so, when you think about some of the stuff, you’re like, “well man that would be so cool to…like what was that story? Like, what happened there?” And we don't have all of that. There are ancient writings about it that date way back.  These are the infancy Gospels. These are apocryphal writings that were not canonized. They are not part of Scripture. They’re just part of the early early stories in the church. And, so, obviously the story of Jesus going to Egypt is important to the…like those who are in the Coptic church, which is largely Egyptian. So there…there are definitely writings with stories in them about Jesus early life and His journey to Egypt and really, really interesting fanciful things but not contained in the canon of Scripture. I say all that just to simply say that, yeah, we get Jesus birth then we kind of skip to Jesus adulthood and that's where the focus is and we wonder, “what was it like for Him to grow up?” And, so, we look into the Gospels and like, well here's kinda what we can say, here’s what we can see from the gospel narratives that would allow us to…to understand that Jesus’ development wouldn't have been completely unknown any more than John's development would've been completely unknown. But also, that there's a lot that we don't know. But there's a lot that we do. And isn’t that our desire, isn’t that our hearts’ desire, to know more. Not just to know more about, but to no more with.

Prayer:

Jesus, we invite You into that. It is deeply interesting and fascinating to learn of You because we’re learning what it looks like to be truly human. When we look at You, we’re looking at what it looks like for the most-high God to be willing to become one of His creation to identify with us so that we could understand. And the truth is we've missed so much of it but we’re so deeply grateful that we have this life to get to know You, deeply, from the Scriptures and deeply because we’re in relationship. And. so, Jesus, help us to learn of You, what we need to learn of You. We pray in Your precious name. Amen.

Announcements:

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And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement you can just hit the Hotline button in the app, the little red button at the top that remarkably looks like a hotline button. You can't miss it. And you can share from there no matter where you are in the world or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning DAB family I hope you’re all having a blessed blessed Sunday. I just thank God for all your lives and also thank you to the Hardin family for this amazing ministry. May God continue to add many many more years to this amazing ministry. In the UK today is Mother's Day and I just wanted to say happy Mother's Day to all you wonderful mothers and carers to young children. I lost my mother on the 23rd of October 2016. She was a woman of faith. She really loved God. She was my rock, the most loving, softest mother I could have ever asked for. So, a day like this normally makes me feel quite sad, quite low, quite lonely. And also, sometimes it feels as if people around me forget my pain and how a day like this makes me really feel. But my reassurance is that I know that my mother is in heaven where is, you know, that is a place that's filled with laughter and praise to the Almighty. You'll probably hear this later, but I just want to ask for prayers for God's comfort for me during this time. I also want to say a prayer for all those who have lost mothers, for the Lord to give you strength. May He comfort you especially a day filled with mixed emotions. May His love provide you with confirmation that God will never leave you nor forsake you. Amen. And this is Sarah from London. God bless you all. Stay blessed.

Hello this is Charlene from Akron OH first time caller. I had started listening to DAB a couple years ago and just each year I would get distracted, and I would just fall away, and I just wouldn't see it through, but this year so far has been going so much better and I just really want to stick with it. I was calling to reach out to D from Pennsylvania whose son is moving to California just let her know that I had a son that went to school and hasn't been home since he's 18 he's down 26 and he lives in Texas. And while it's getting easier there's always that longing to have him home, but it does get better, and they do learn to live and be on their own and…but I just want to let you know you'll be in my prayers. And I also wanted to ask for prayer for my oldest one period his wife. She is facing a hysterectomy on April 9th and I just want to pray that this is really the right thing. They do not have any children and obviously this would make it permanent not to be able to have any children of their own. I know adoption is an option. This is also my first born and he was saved when he was five years old and had stayed with his faith all the way through college, taught Bible studies, and all kinds of stuff. And then just a little bit before he moved out of the house, he was just sharing how he was just doubting things how he’s letting it ride out. And he's never fully committed to coming back and he's very respectful, loves family. And I just want prayer for them. And I don't know if this is something that maybe God is using to bring him and his wife to Him and make their relationship with Him the strongest it could be. Well, I'm out of time. Thank you so much.

Hello everyone, this is Rachel from Oregon. I'm actually going to change my name to Redeemed Rachel. I just wanna ask for a couple prayers. First of all, the pastor and…and his wife of our church are being called to be missionaries in Norway and it's just such an amazing thing that God has called them to do and they are being obedient in it, but they are also super amazing people who have really stewarded our church so well and taught so many people how to walk in line with the word of God and just what God's love really looks like. And I've never grown more than being at this church with them as pastors. So, I know a lot of people are having a hard time with it in my church and I just ask that you pray, that God will bring along the next right person and bring our body over here peace through this time of transition and adjusting to whoever does come along. And also, I ask prayer for my family because we are making a cross country move, totally uprooting. I have to say a lot of goodbyes over here which is going to be really hard and I'm going to a place I've never been to and don't know much about but I am…I'm really excited about it but it is very nerve wracking. I have a couple months to get rid of all this stuff in our apartment and pack up we're taking and clean up our apartment and just get everything in…in order and I'm also nervous about finding a good church over there because until the one I'm at right now I've only been in bad churches. So, just please pray for my family and bring us peace and let us stay in God's will. Thank you.

Hi everyone, this is Jeanette from Denmark. I'm calling for prayer against a tumor which has developed in the left stump of my arm under the elbow. I've had cancer before about 16 years ago and it came back under the stress of covid. And I am so blessed right now to be able to speak the language here where I live and to participate in the local church. And I thank God so much for what He's taught me through this walk of a totally different life of where I come from in the states. I bless his name because he has blessed me with a dependent…a sense of dependency upon Him. And I know that He has much more in store. I want to share about healing and about the love of Father God here and help the church to grow here. And I thank him for blessing my family with peace of mind in this time and inspiring us with what to do and holding us tight in these days. And I pray He does the same for so many of you. Thank you for the DAB and the time we spend together every day. And [singing starts] may the Lord bless you and keep you and make His face to shine upon you because He loves you, He is your Father He is a wonderful Father [singing stops]. Amen. Thank you.

Hello DABbers, it's your girl Val here in Vegas. Oh my gosh y'all. This makes one year. Whoo…i got to get through this call! It's been one year since I called in and asked for help. I was sitting alone in the hospital in a zero-gravity room believing the lies of the enemy that God was mad at me with double pneumonia. You guys prayed me…well…you prayed me out of that situation, but man you did so much more than that. I'm literally about to celebrate on April 6th a year at my dream job. My health is literally better than it's been in quite some time. I can't even name in the two minutes that I have all the blessings in this last year. I've grown closer to my family. I've been more prayerful. I understand now that God wasn't mad at me then and he's not mad at me now. And I say all this to say to anybody that is just at that edge where you feel like you want to give up, don't! Please don't. Stand strong. Call in. Know that this family is praying for you. We believe in you. We are people that love the Lord. We want to pray for you, and we want you to call in and we want to hear your words of encouragement. Those praise reports warm my heart. I love you guys. Please hold on.

[phantombmoll]

                                               NEW CHAPTER And The Wind Began To Howl - Rupert Giles x OC Fanfic

(Actually I uploaded like 3 or 4 new chapters but I’ve had the gifset for this chapter ready FOREVER... so here) 

Extract: 

“My name is bloody Ripper!” Giles suddenly shouted slamming his hand on the table. 

“Ripper?” Maria laughed at him. 

“Shut it Bingley.” Giles shot back. 

“What kind of name is Ripper?” Maria asked. “Who do you think you are Sid Vicious?” 

“Why don’t you keep pushing and find out.” He said shoving the table and stalking off to the other end of the store. Maria flinched but kept watching him as he walked near the books. 

“Will you two stop!” Buffy snapped again. “Oh my god, there are demons running wild, we need you to snap out of it!” 

“Buffy this isn’t like when all the adults ate that candy, this is, they really think they’re seventeen and eighteen. No dream, no fuzz. No remembering he’s your watcher, or what they’re supposed to be doing. What are we going to do?” Xander asked. 

“Willow do you think you can find something to break the spell?” Buffy asked.

“Sure, if I can go back to Giles’ and get at the books.” Willow said.

“When you say demons?” Maria asked.

“She means pointy fanged horned things.” Giles replied and Maria’s eyes went wide, not with fear but with excitement.

“Maybe I can help?” Maria offered.

“You?” Giles snorted looking at her, he had another cigarette hanging out of his mouth and Maria looked ready to blow a gasket.

“I think maybe it’s best if you-” Buffy started.

“Look, I know I’m not a fighter, I’m not strong. I can’t battle a demon. I’m not asking to do that I’m sure that’s your job as slayer anyway and no I don’t know magic. But there’s one thing that I am and maybe that can help.” Maria said confidently. “I’m a bibliophile, and, I can read in twelve dead languages, including ancient Egyptian and Greek. Old Norse and Middle English as well Coptic and Sanskrit. Bibliophiles can be very useful.”

“Damn straight.” Willow said grinning at Maria like she was a new puppy she’d been gifted.

FULL FIC IS AVAILABLE ON AO3 AND FANFIC.NET (Tumblr won’t show it in the tags if I add links) Just search for Phantombmoll or And The Wind Began To Howl on either site. 

Or copy and paste one of the following; 

AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008529

Fanfic.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13463854/1/And-The-Wind-Began-To-Howl

[zyzzyva1936-blog-blog]

“Lemma the Librarian - The Last Dance”

Published: 14 April 2018*

http://www.mcstories.com/LemmaTheLibrarian/index.html

“The Last Dance” brings an end to the episodic nature of the series. Everything from here on out is welded quite tightly into the main plot - or, rather, the main plot constitutes what happens in the last three stories. Spoilers for “The Last Dance” from here on out. What seems like a straightforward get-the-book smash-and-grab (which involves Lemma and Iola going undercover in a harem, because @midorikonton knows which side her bread is buttered on) turns into the return of fairy murdergoblin “Red” for his third and final confrontation with Lemma. Red loses, although mostly thanks to Iason and Rhoda and Rhoda’s Machamp rage-demon Sonneillon. (Rhoda being, of course, the person Lemma used the ghost last time to call for.)

Lemma’s desire to be enslaved is something she’s been dealing with, more or less successfully, up until this point, but it’s something Iason and Iola don’t actually know about yet. That reticence is now coming back to bite her in the ass. The most important conflict in this story isn’t the fight against Red, or Lugal’s** magic clothes; it’s between Lemma and Iola over what the right course of action while trapped in the palace is. Lemma wants to give in, of course, but Iola’s experience with mind-control has been a lot more traumatic than Lemma’s, and she has a very strong personal/cultural “go down fighting” ethos, and she doesn’t seem to have this particular kink on any level anyways. We were reminded just last story of all of Iola’s trauma around the whole magical mind-controlled sex thing. But unlike that time, Lemma, for strategic reasons, doesn’t feel like she has to room to let Iola do her own thing. So she doesn’t just go along with the enchantments, she actively throws her magical weight behind glamouring Iola too. Iola doesn’t know the actual reasons Lemma did this, but I’m not sure it’d make a difference anyways: she would understand it, correctly, as just as awful a betrayal either way.

The party - now up to four with the addition of Rhoda - is off to Hattush to find the last, most apocalyptic book, and it’s all very dramatic. But what sticks with me the most about the end is Iola’s refusal to tell Lemma everything’s ok.

*Look, it was supposed to be out this week, but the EMCSA (my canonical reference for links and dates) is on a one week break, I’m travelling next week, and its been posted to Tumblr now. Also it’s been burning a hole in my drafts folder for nearly a month now. ;P

**His death at the hands of Red is a little abrupt, but he’s enough of a controlling jerk I can’t brink myself to feel too sorry for him. Plus, you know, dying abruptly is a peril of kingship. (If Red had murdered, say, poor Simta, I’d be a lot angrier; but Jenny seems to have learned her lesson since the Vamp!Brea business***.)

***Yes, I’m still mad. ;P

When The Fuck Are We? 🤷

For the first time, we’re further back in time than the Bronze Age Collapse! “Possession with Intent” is set in Khemeth, which is clearly K•m•t, Egypt*. Ancient Egypt is one of those things everyone at least knows a little about** so I’ll focus on two slightly more obscure points.

The first is Iason’s reference to Khemeth being “the breadbasket of the Inner Sea”, which is both true and false in an interesting way. Egypt, being spectacularly fertile, essentially one-dimensonal, and laid out on a lazy, easily navigable river, is indeed just about the optimum imaginable setting for extracting massive food surpluses with ancient technology and governance. But it wasn’t a big export from Egypt (Egypt’s main ancient export was papyrus, thanks to its ecologically-enforced monopoly). Rather, it was mostly used to pump up Egypt’s own population, and in particular the showpiece capital cities such as Memphis, Thebes, or Alexandria. In the ancient world, having an unnecessarily - nay, infeasibly - large capital was a point of pride, which is where Egypt’s actual role as a breadbasket comes in: after it lost its independence in 30BCE, the Romans told Alexandria to get stuffed and began exporting Egypt’s wonderful easy grain surpluses to Rome, instead***. But of course, there’s not much here to imaginably suggest that we’re in the Roman Empire, timeline-wise.

Which brings us to the other point: the party being around for the invention of pyramids is obviously just for the joke, but even discounting that Egypt is old. The usual comparison is to note that when Augustus began redirecting the Egyptian grain surplus to Rome, the pyramids at Giza were already older than Augustus is now. The Egyptian state that survived the Bronze Age Collapse was the already declining New Kingdom, third of the traditional old/middle/new kingdoms division of ancient Egyptian history; it’s the heir to a polity stretching back into the 31st C BCE. Egypt is old. 

“The Last Dance” takes us to the one city-dwelling society even older than Egypt. Lagasch/Lagash is a Sumerian town, and Sumer (the south end of Mesopotamia, so modern-day south-central Iraq) has recognizable cities all the way back into the fifth freakin’ millennium BCE, and a historical record stretching patchily into the late fourth. Lagash ceased to exist as in independent city-state in the late third millennium*****, so about as long before our stop in Etruria as that was before Mercia, or Mercia is before the present day (and this story doesn’t seem to be taking place at the end of Lagash’s time as an independent polity, either). Based on some truly shoddy historical research******, we might slap this with a date of 2500 BCE - old enough to actually start getting close to the invention of the pyramids.

Sumerian, like Etruscan, is a language that seems to be unrelated to every other known language. (Before you come up with a brilliant theory that will revolutionize ancient history - no, they don’t seem to be related to each other, either.) Unlike Etruscan, we have such a huge corpus of text that we can translate it fairly reliably. (It helps that Sumerian remained in use as a record-keeping language for centuries after it had stopped being spoken - rather like Latin in Medieval/Early Modern Europe.) I’ve already mentioned the problems with king lists and such, but one of the great things about Mesopotamia is that unlike the logistical records of Mycenae, or the glorifying propaganda of Egypt, we have all of that and also preserved letters, and that lets us look so much further afield into the culture, you don’t even know. We even have recognizable preserved jokes: a regional administrator writes the central palace complaining that his requests for supplies to repair a dangerously deteriorating wall have been ignored, and it’s going to fall over and hurt someone. He demands supplies again, “and if you can’t send those at least send a doctor”.

Also, despite what Neal Stephenson will tell you, Sumerian is not glossolalic and you can’t use it to mind-control people.

*Look, you try transliterating Coptic into Latin characters! Like its distant relatives the Semitic languages, Coptic is based around consonantal root-words, into which vowels are slotted to make verbs, adjectives, and so forth. It makes for somewhat awkward transliterations.

**He says, and then panics trying to figure out how much people who aren’t actually historians have read about ancient Egypt. Tutankhamen’s weird Sun cultist dad is common knowledge, right?

***Rome’s peak in the Augustan period at a couple of hundred thousand, maybe a million****, was almost entirely on the back of the annona, a massive subsidized bread ration distributed to the Roman civic populace, and supplied in large part by Egypt. (It’s not terribly comparable to modern food stamps or other social welfare; in an ancient context, it’s more like spiking the football.) The population cratered between then and the burned-out husk the Goths and Byzantines squabbled over in the 6th C CE, but not because of the “fall of Rome”. Rather, the 4th C CE founding of Constantinople and the redirection of the Egyptian grain surplus there (so the new capital would bulk up to an appropriately prestigious population) was what really did it for Rome; and all of that happened when the Roman Empire was still riding high. The state of Rome was closer before and after the Visigoth sack than either was to Augustus’ city of marble. 

****The brilliant if wildly opinionated historian Colin McEvedy had a great turn of phrase arguing for 250,000. (He has a great turn of phrase for everything, you should read him.) After laying out the more archaeological arguments about land use and suchlike, he notes that the one solid literary record for the annona we have, around the time of Augustus, gives a little less than a quarter of a million rations, and “who ever heard of a dictator who put a smaller figure on his largesse than he needed to. If [Augustus] had fed a million Romans he would have said so.” 

*****We can peg it to exact years relative to related dates - the Mesopotamians were pretty through chroniclers, so we know how long kings ruled, in what regnal year they went on what campaign, and so forth, but they’re floating around in a little bit of a void. There are a couple of different possible chronologies depending on which recorded astronomical events you make line up with which calculated astronomical events.

******To wit, googling “Lagash king list dates” and looking for names that resemble “Lugal”. My historiography prof just shuddered and doesn’t know why.

~

Next time: the thrilling climax! Oh, man, does Lemma do some climaxing.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Saint Christopher - Feast Day: July 25th - Latin Calendar

Saint Christopher (Greek: Ἅγιος Χριστόφορος, Ágios Christóforos) is venerated by several Christian denominations as a martyr killed in the reign of the 3rd-century Roman Emperor Decius (reigned 249–251) or alternatively under the Roman Emperor Maximinus II Dacian (reigned 308–313). There appears to be confusion due to the similarity in names "Decius" and "Dacian". However his veneration only appears late in Christian tradition, and did not become widespread in the Western Church until the Late Middle Ages, although churches and monasteries were named after him by the 7th century.

It is disputed whether Christopher existed, and if so whether the name applied to a specific person or was a general title meaning "Christ-bearer" which was applied to several different real or legendary people. He may be the same figure as Saint Menas. His most famous legend, which is mainly known from the West and may draw from Ancient Greek mythology, tells that he carried a child, who was unknown to him, across a river before the child revealed himself as Christ. Therefore, he is the patron saint of travelers, and small images of him are often worn around the neck, on a bracelet, carried in a pocket, or placed in vehicles by Christians.

There are several legends associated with the life and death of Saint Christopher which first appeared in Greece and had spread to France by the 9th century.[citation needed]  The 11th-century bishop and poet, Walter of Speyer, gave one version, but the most popular variations originated from the 13th-century Golden Legend.

According to the legendary account of his life Christopher was initially called Reprobus. He was a Canaanite, 5 cubits (7.5 feet (2.3 m)) tall and with a fearsome face. While serving the king of Canaan, he took it into his head to go and serve "the greatest king there was". He went to the king who was reputed to be the greatest, but one day he saw the king cross himself at the mention of the devil. On thus learning that the king feared the devil, he departed to look for the devil. He came across a band of marauders, one of whom declared himself to be the devil, so Christopher decided to serve him. But when he saw his new master avoid a wayside cross and found out that the devil feared Christ, he left him and enquired from people where to find Christ. He met a hermit who instructed him in the Christian faith. Christopher asked him how he could serve Christ. When the hermit suggested fasting and prayer, Christopher replied that he was unable to perform that service. The hermit then suggested that because of his size and strength Christopher could serve Christ by assisting people to cross a dangerous river, where they were perishing in the attempt. The hermit promised that this service would be pleasing to Christ.

After Christopher had performed this service for some time, a little child asked him to take him across the river. During the crossing, the river became swollen and the child seemed as heavy as lead, so much that Christopher could scarcely carry him and found himself in great difficulty. When he finally reached the other side, he said to the child: "You have put me in the greatest danger. I do not think the whole world could have been as heavy on my shoulders as you were." The child replied: "You had on your shoulders not only the whole world but Him who made it. I am Christ your king, whom you are serving by this work." The child then vanished.

Christopher later visited Lycia and there comforted the Christians who were being martyred. Brought before the local king, he refused to sacrifice to the pagan gods. The king tried to win him by riches and by sending two beautiful women to tempt him. Christopher converted the women to Christianity, as he had already converted thousands in the city. The king ordered him to be killed. Various attempts failed, but finally Christopher was beheaded.

Historical examination of the legends suggests Reprobus (Christopher) lived during the Christian persecutions of the Roman emperor Decius (249 to 251), and that he was captured and martyred by the governor of Antioch. Historian David Woods has proposed that St. Christopher's remains were possibly taken to Alexandria by Peter of Attalia where he may have become identified with the Egyptian martyr Saint Menas.

The legend of Saint Christopher records two important historical facts that identify him with the historical Saint Menas. The first is that the Greek and Latin legends of Saint Christopher identify him as belonging to the Third Valerian Cohort of the Marmantae (Latin: Cohors tertia Valeria Marmantarum), a military unit of Northern Africa of Marmarica (between modern day Libya and Egypt), recruited by none other than the Emperor Diocletian. The second is that Saint Christopher was martyred in Antioch.

The martyrdom of Saint Menas corresponds to the details of the legend of Saint Christopher. The theory that identifies the two saints as one and the same concludes that the name "Christopher" meaning "Christ-bearer" was a title given to the name of the valiant Menas who died in Antioch. Since he was not a native of that land, his name was not known and so he was simply revered by his generic title: "Christophoros" or "Christ-Bearer." Saint Menas happens to be the patron of travelers in the Coptic tradition, which further supports an association with Saint Christopher who is the patron of travelers in the Greek and Latin traditions.

Part of Saint Christopher's story closely parallels that of the Argonaut Jason, who carried across a raging river an old woman that was likewise described as being far heavier than she should have been and was actually the goddess Hera in disguise.

The Roman Martyrology remembers him on 25 July. The Tridentine Calendar commemorated him on the same day only in private Masses. By 1954 his commemoration had been extended to all Masses, but it was dropped in 1970 as part of the general reorganization of the calendar of the Roman rite as mandated by the motu proprio, Mysterii Paschalis. His commemoration was described to be not of Roman tradition, in view of the relatively late date (about 1550) and limited manner in which it was accepted into the Roman calendar, but his feast continues to be observed locally.

[ntrending]

By destroying this female pharaoh's legacy, her successor preserved it forever

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/by-destroying-this-female-pharaohs-legacy-her-successor-preserved-it-forever/

By destroying this female pharaoh's legacy, her successor preserved it forever

Popular Science’s series, The Builders, takes you behind the construction tape to reveal the individuals behind and legacies of history’s greatest architectural works.

On a midwinter trek to Manhattan’s Upper East Side, I went in search of room 115 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a North American home of the Egyptian pharaoh Hatshepsut. I walked past the outcropping two or three times, before I finally found her—dozens of her, really—in a well-lit antechamber. From one statue, Hatshepsut’s limestone eyes smiled, catlike, through 3,400 years of history. From another, a jet black statue of the seated pharaoh, carved from the raven rock diorite, commanded attention even without a face.

But perhaps the most intriguing artifacts were those that envisaged the pharaoh that tried to usurp her, her nephew Thutmose III. On inspection, his form is different from his aunt’s: His face is flatter, broader, more masculine. But the distinctions are so minimal they’re almost nonexistent to an untrained eye. Looking into his mask, I ruefully remembered something Kara Cooney, a UCLA Egyptologist who has studied the intersection of gender and rule, had told me: “Her style was so pervasive, it just permeated everything.” Hatshepsut built Thutmose’s public appearance when he was just a boy. He may have grown up, consolidated power and systematically erased her, but he couldn’t wash away his own face, and by that time, it was already an avatar of Hatshepsut’s own.

Taken together, Hatshepsut’s many statues, temples, and burial grounds reveal a story of a rise to unprecedented power, and the physical propaganda she used to achieve such great heights. These strategies for visually cueing her stature are still in use today.

Like the Nile river on which the royal family’s rule depended, the course of Hatshepsut’s life was charted long before her birth around 1500 BCE. As the eldest daughter of King Thutmose I, she would train for the coveted position of “God’s Wife of Amen,” the personal priestess of Egypt’s primary god. When her brother Thutmose II assumed the throne, she would marry him and fulfill her greatest duty: producing the next pharaoh.

But something disturbed this plan. In broad hieroglyphics, Hatshepsut’s husband died young, throwing Thebes into chaos. He left behind an heir born to a palace concubine. Just a baby, Thutmose III needed a regent to rule in his stead. Hatshepsut stepped into this opportune crevasse, the expiration date on her power marked by the boy’s eventual maturation into a king. But after years of co-rule with her nephew, she achieved something no woman had before. Hatshepsut became pharaoh while another king already had the job.

Through the haze of history, we can just make out the factors that contributed to her rise. She had an unimpeachable pedigree and an essential position in the religious pantheon. But perhaps the most important ingredient in Hatshepsut’s successful grab for power were the things she built.

Hatshepsut learned how to wield the ideological weapon of design from her father. Thutmose I was a successful king, buoyed by the wealth his soldiers stole from Nubia, modern-day Sudan. “The money he brought back from those wars allowed him to build temples, as hundreds of kings had done before him,” Cooney writes in her book The Woman Who Would Be King: Hatshepsut’s Rise to Power in Ancient Egypt, “but Thutmose I crafted his architecture in stone, not just mud brick.” As a young girl, Hatshepsut would have “understood how building programs functioned simultaneously as jobs programs, propaganda machines, and gifts to the gods.”

Starting as regent and continuing into her 20-year-long solo reign, she raised funds to restore temples across the empire, confirming her proximity to the gods and forging alliances with powerful priests. She erected the first obelisks in centuries, reviving a form that remains popular—consider, for example, the Washington Monument in Washington D.C. In Hatshepsut’s era, some spires sat in the centers of her own cities, while workers erected others in the heart of Nubia, a conquered land from which Egypt pulled slaves and precious minerals such as gold. Each was a 90-foot-tall statement: Remember who rules you.

Hatshepsut also covered the country with her face. At first, she shared paintings and carvings with her nephew. Her decision to depict the two of them, side by side as co-rulers, was already radical. But eventually she cut out the boy king altogether. Her stone-cold likenesses, of which there were thousands, became “ciphers for quick identification,” Cooney says. Like more contemporary propaganda posters “these are things that the ruled understand immediately.”

The sculptures served as more than simple monuments. The fact that she could afford to commission statuary, especially on such a monumental scale, reflected her immense wealth. It also showed her access to the gods; Egyptians saw statues as links between mortals and deities. Hatshepsut’s decision to wear the traditional masculine pharaoh’s garb placed her in an unbroken chain of inherited, God-given power, while the cat-like eyes distinguished her from her ancestors. And hieroglyphics declaring her role as wife of Amen—which Westerners were able to decode after the transliteration of the Rosetta Stone in 1822—further reified her status.

As Hatshepsut consolidated her power, she began to display herself alone more frequently—a king in her own right (the ancient Coptic language had no word for queen). The most famous figure, carved of limestone, shows her crowned in a nemes, a head cloth that encloses the leader’s face like rippling parentheses. A shendyt, a kilt typically worn topless, covers her lap. In other depictions, she wore the pharaoh’s long, false beard.

Despite these symbols, Hatshepsut’s artists frequently highlighted their king’s gender. Her waist is narrow. Some sculptures carry faded yellow pigment, the female hue in Egyptian art. Curators at the Metropolitan Museum of Art draw attention to subtle details in placards alongside her relics; they note her “long dancer’s legs,” and the “decidedly feline quality” of her face.

Hatshepsut’s most ambitious architectural project was her own mortuary temple. (At the time of her rule, the Great Pyramids of Giza, burial sites for the rulers of Eygpt’s third dynasty, were already 1,000 years old, and the tomb of the boy King Tut lay 150 years in the future.) For the location, she chose Deir el-Bahri. In the mountains across from the modern-day city of Luxor, this was also the site of King Mentuhotep II’s funerary temple, built over 500 years before. Here her temple became the centerpiece of the ancient, expansive complex in the Valley of the Kings. “Her constructions, still to this day, are what catch your eye first,” Cooney says.

Stark in its symmetry, the stone temple has three floors of colonnaded terraces, carved directly into the ruddy earth walls of the valley. But Hatshepsut didn’t choose just any crook: Her eternal resting place is at the seat of a sacred hill dedicated to the goddess Hathor. The entire structure is oriented to harness the sunrise of the winter solstice. On appointed days, the rays shine through a light box, illuminating the structure’s deepest chambers—and images of the gods hidden inside.

By building into Hathor’s hill, Hatshepsut permanently linked her worldly reign to the higher realm of the gods. She also assured against her own erasure, as no one could destroy the temple without also defiling the goddess. “What we have preserved is perfectionism,” Cooney says. But that veneer was cracking fast.

Hatshepsut seems to have passed this knowledge about the link between authority and architecture on to her nephew Thutmose III. After he came to power, the young man wasn’t interested in building new structures. He wanted to sack the old ones.

Roughly 25 years after Hatshepsut’s death at around age 49, Thutmose III systematically destroyed his aunt’s legacy, burying all evidence of her in the Egyptian sand. He stripped her name and associated phrases like “Wife of Amen” from obelisks, statues, and even the interiors of Deir el-Bahri. Workers plastered over every reference to Hatshepsut they could find, sloppily rededicating monuments to the men of the 18th dynasty. They broke feminine representations of Hatshepsut apart and threw them, by the hundreds, in what experts now call “the Hatshepsut Hole,” a trash heap outside her temple.

But in trying to bury Hatshepsut’s legacy, Thutmose III ended up preserving it forever. “It’s the successful kings who build,” Cooney says, and it’s the successful kings who destroy. Thutmose didn’t have the might to erase the influence—or images—of his predecessor. “[E]ven with the cracks and missing pieces,” Catharine Roehrig, an Egyptologist at The Met, wrote in an email, “the statues as reconstructed are in better condition than others that stood out in the yearly sand storms and were attacked later in Egyptian history.”

It is in the The Met that Hatshepsut’s success is on full display. While historians don’t think she knew Thutmose III would try to scrub her story from the earth—such retributive behavior is unusual in the little we know about Egyptian history—she successfully guarded against obliteration nonetheless. The art she commissioned and buildings she raised told a story 3,400 years ago. Through her uncanny acts of self-preservation, they continue telling it to this day.

Written By Eleanor Cummins

[ihearducksaregoingquackers]

Sorry for long post, but anything you can say will help. Deeply personal.

Tumblr is a super weird experience for me, with just who and what I am. To kind of put a million labels on me at once (the labels that I know of), I am a seemingly-but-not-always white-passing light-skinned Egyptian Muslim capable of growing an afro who is heteroromantic, bi-curious, demisexual-ish (I can be sexually attracted to anyone, but I’d almost never take clothes off unless it was with someone I was in love with), cisgendered male, was essentially raised on Western (mostly American, some British) media influence with English as a first language and hardly able to speak Arabic despite it being my native language, legally an American citizen, with diagnoses of depression, anxiety and ADHD, with an education background of partially physics, animation and partially game design at a university level (the partialies are due to dropping out because of depression). Also, I was ‘a gifted child’, aka I was naturally adept at science and math, and dropped the humanities like a hot rock as soon as I could.

And that’s what I can think of off the top of my head.

(The rest is put under ‘keep reading’ because the post is super long. If you have the time or energy to read this and just say anything to help, I’d super appreciate it. If not, I appreciate you reading this far. If you didn’t read this far, I still appreciate you following me anyway, because it helps make it feel like tumblr is worth doing, even though audience isn’t the reason why I use tumblr in the first place.)

This, of course, not only leads to huge amounts of internal anxiety with regards to “who or what the fuck am I”, being Egyptian and Muslim but having been raised and immersed in Western and Christian or Athiest media. But following the diverse blogs of Tumblr makes it even more confusing. Specifically black tumblr, not because there’s anything wrong with black tumblr, but black tumblr has made me ask myself questions that I never would have thought to ask myself. But all sorts of tumblr (especially social justice tumblr or educational discourse tumblr talking about geography or history) have had this effect on me too.

Like, what does it mean to be African? Am I African? I actually had to go up to my mom and ask that question, because it bugged me so much and I just didn’t have the answer, and there’s an apparent distinction between Africa and North Africa, where Egypt is in North Africa. But also, I can grow an afro. When I was still in the states and working as a cashier at a dry cleaning place, I actually asked a couple of black co-workers if they thought I could grow an afro. When they responded with “yeah, I could see a Jew-fro”, I had to show them this video of me getting the largest afro I’d grown shaved. They were surprised, to say the least (and it was totally worth the look on their faces). But like, black tumblr has a habit of calling curly hair ‘black hair’ and I somehow feel like I can’t own my hair? But I’m technically African, but does that allow me the same courtesy?

And, like, obviously I don’t want to be That Asshole™, cultural appropriation is such a huge thing and I don’t want to promote it in any way, shape or form. But I have curly hair, I can naturally grow an afro, been able to do it my whole life, how do I embrace that without accidentally promoting cultural appropriation? If the answer seems obvious, there’s the ‘sometimes-but-not-always white-passing’ thing which I go into detail later on. I also know that black tumblr isn’t intentionally looking at my obscure, one off tumblr that has 57 followers and saying “let’s make this ONE individual paranoid about what he can or can’t do or say about his hair”. I’m not egotistical or narcissistic enough to think my opinion matters that much to an entire tumblr culture for them to try and send me a message, but I feel that there’s enough of a message for me to at least be concerned about what my actions might unintentionally say.

It also doesn’t help that my family hasn’t really learned about taking care of afros since I was kind of a pariah in wanting an afro and my family insists I look better without one and that what little I’ve learned about taking care of afros I’ve learned from black tumblr. Also, depression makes it hard to get out of bed or even take a shower, so taking care of my afro is kind of out of the question at the moment.

There’s also another awkward one of “How Arab am I?” That question is multi-layered, partially due to my westernization through the media I consumed, my faulty ability with the Arabic language, the fact that I’ve had too many Egyptians in Egypt ask me where I’m from (I’ve answered with ‘Egyptian but raised in America’ which gets people to not ask more questions).

And then there’s also the part of what does it mean to be Egyptian as well. Like, specifically Egyptian. Should I be proud of my ancestors? Is that even *my* legacy? Or has my legacy been so muddied by the multiple empires that have conquered Egypt that I can’t lay any claim to it? My family trees can also be traced back to Tunisia (Carthage specifically), Morocco and Lebanon (I’m quarter Lebanese so that’s sorta the easiest to trace), but that’s only looking at two straight lines and an obvious link and almost none of the other branches of my family tree are really explored. Like, my family almost entirely hails from Alexandria, I have great grandparents that fought in World War 2 for Egypt and that’s quite a few generations of living in Egypt, so potentially one of my ancestors was Ancient Egyptian, right?

But THEN there’s also the legacy of Egyptians, the muddied part I mentioned because, at one point, Coptic Christians were the dominant population before Islam became a thing, and then Egypt became part of the Islamic Empire, which resulted in 80% of the current Egyptian population being Muslim now. But also, Ancient Egypt was a thing. And Ancient Egypt traded with Ancient Greece and that’s it’s own bag which I don’t even have all the information on that. Let’s also not forget the Jewish Egyptians that exist in the world. Or the fact that Jews had to run away from Egypt (God, that one Hannukah I attended with my ex-girlfriend was awkward).

There’s also the whole fetishization of Ancient Egypt by essentially everyone, but also holy shit Ancient Egypt was so advanced for its time too, which no wonder why people are obsessed with it, but then it kinda gets weird and it’s super complicated to get into right now. There’s also debate about the skin colour of Ancient Egyptians too, and like, if it’s discovered that they were dark-skinned, do I have no right and no claim to my ancestry?

And THEN there’s what it means to be Muslim, and how some of what I’ve been told clashes heavily with liberal western political ideals (imagine my ass being conservative, HA!). That also clashes with my status as bi-curious, which used to be bisexual (still heteroromantic) but now, isn’t? I don't know, I’m still very much in this “I have no idea what my sexuality is” stage. Being bullied from an early age and learning to take ‘gay’ as an insult has superbly affected my ability to even consider being called gay. I get REELED at the idea of being called gay or kissing another man, but there’s that bi-curious thing due to some events that will not be described (no abuse, I promise). There’s just so much shit that clashes from these different things. And I don’t even know how to fit the pieces together even remotely.

The ‘seemingly obvious answer’ of ‘you can be all of that’ doesn’t apply when you hear shit like the Egyptian government tracking down gay people through gay dating apps and are actively living in Egypt. I’m not even LOOKING for that kind of thing with another man, and it’s not even a potential future thing in my mind either, since, you know, demisexual-ish. But there’s still that occasional attraction? It’s weird. Just, being me with regards to these things is weird and I can’t fit the pieces together, not on my own. And, also, I always have to ask the question: with being so marginally LGBT, do I even have the right to consider myself as part of the LGBT+ community? With all the stuff that the LGBT+ community go through, how could I, as a heteroromantic bi-curious demisexual, even CONSIDER being a part of the LGBT+ community? It’s such this deep question, and I only have the label of bi-curious because I don’t even know anything that more accurately describes what’s happening in my head, you know?

Don’t even get me started on Arab mentality of mental health issues, which further complicates things with my liberal western ideals. Just don’t.

There’s also that fun time my sister accused me of being ‘too westernized’.

God, and then, just, I look at Egypt and I can’t find much to be proud of my people? There’s stuff that is improving, no doubt, but it’s so slow and gradual that it might take a few lifetimes in order for things to even measure up to something I’d consider good standards. But again, are these the ideals of an Egyptian who wants the best for his country, or a foreigner who can only see through the lens of his own privilege? The number of times people have said that “[I am] not Egyptian” because I don’t like a certain Egyptian dish or don’t say a certain thing or whatever other standards I have is absolutely infuriating.

I wish I was one of those people who didn’t need labels to identify themselves. I wish I could just say “I am who I am, that’s okay with me”. But I can’t, I’m just not that kind of person. I’ve had the label of ADHD from when I was first diagnosed as a child, and also Egyptian too. Also, being ‘so smart’ as a kid, ‘so obedient’, ‘quiet’ etc. as a child. But I was bullied too, I had two or three friends for my youngest years that I remember (I remember nothing from before age 8 aside from literally three memories), and what I can now put a name to, dangerously severe depression. I survived, which is really all that matters, but I only have vague memories of being a child and a teen.

Anyway, let’s ignore that tangent and get back on track with the labels. Sometimes-but-not-always white-passing. Having lived in the states and being able to experience the looks that some people give me, whether I’m white-passing or not depends entirely on the person who sees me. My name isn’t ‘obviously Arab’, so people kind of have to guess where I come from. I’ve been mistaken for white for sure, but I’ve also had an older black woman tell me “shalom” as she was getting off the bus “because of the nose” with a hand motion, thinking I was Jewish. Then there was the elderly white psychiatrist, lemme just set the stage.

I walk into an INTAKE with this elderly white psychiatrist, not even a session, this is purely an assessment part. He asks questions, gets my name, gets my original nationality, age, guesses correctly that I’m Muslim. He asks if I drink, I told him no, because I haven’t. His IMMEDIATE response: “Oh, that’s good, because if you did, they’d have to take you out back and shoot you in the back of the head.”

I got so scared, I forced myself to see him for three sessions because I had to make sure that he wouldn’t think the reason why I didn’t go to my first appointment was because of his racist ass. Then every time I went to that clinic, I was scared out of my mind that he’d accuse me of not seeing him because of that (my Philipino therapist, who I’d been seeing for weeks before that, was in that clinic so I couldn’t just up and leave, also she was really good and I needed that stability). You could also bet your ass I didn’t report it to management because, again, I was so scared I was gonna be shot by some white dude with a gun if any of that came to light. After that, the anxiety was too much for me to bear and I went to see another psychiatrist. This was in Maryland, 45 minutes away from DC, and since I don't know anything about gun laws in those states, I have no guess about what might happen.

I didn’t exactly hide the fact that I was Egyptian from the people I became friends with, but still, I feel like I should have assessed what to say first. The question always came up “where are you from” and I’d be forced to answer “Egypt” since any other answer is kind of dishonest.

There’s just a lot on my mind. What does it mean to be me? What does it mean to have all these different backgrounds? Who and what am I? Having lots of time on my hands because my depression has essentially made me bedridden does not help in the slightest because I have no way of finding out those answers. And being bedridden doesn’t mean ‘I have time to think’, because I’m too busy actually dealing with my depression (and, some days, surviving my depression) to be philosophical in any way, shape, or form.

This is kinda selfish of me to do, but I'm queueing this because I desperately want people to see this and just, help, in some way. I might even reblog it and schedule it at another time because holy cow I need some advice.

[thebibliomancer]

100 Days of Comics! 079/100: Arcanum #5 (1997)

And we return to the nineties for today’s selection from the box of mystery. It happens. The 90s were a very long decade and what with the glut of comics, a lot is going to survive from then to eventually foist off on an unsuspecting me via a mystery box.

Because you don’t know what a mystery box can contain. It might contain a fish. You don’t know!

Actually its not even that Arcanum is bad in the way that 90s comics are commonly thought of as bad. It’s definitely weird but its also definitely trying to tell an interesting story as opposed to a KEWL eXTREME story.

Also, its from Top Cow and their logo is a cow spotted Earth with udders. That’s not relevant to anything but I had to mention it somewhere.

We start with an excerpt from the journal of Matthew Royale, our bad guy. The excerpt is from the Crusades, which was not a good time to fictionally depict, at least for Defenders.

Matthew Royale was a Roman Catholic priest but he came to the revelation while a part of the Crusades that god was a mercilessly blind bastard. Royale is now convinced that the world is too small for him and seeks a larger truth.

And he finds a breadcrumb thereof when he discovers a Coptic cross on one of the ‘infidels.’

The journal excerpts are actually interspersed with scenes of Avatars, people in the modern world trying to discover and thwart the still-living Royale’s apocalyptic schemes. One of them, Ramat, is translating Royale’s journal but that’s 800 years of scheming written in ancient dead languages and stuff that Ramat has no context for.

Another peek into the past and Royale and some paid-off knights are torturing a member of a secret sect for knowledge of what they’re all about. The inscriptions on the coptic cross led Royale to a Egyptian Coptic church.

And now back to the present. Quentin is treating Marie for the wounds she got from a golem. She didn’t need much treatment. Her Avatar power has given her immortality and rejuvenation plus changed her into an idealized version of her previous self. Which in this case means she’s got a lifetime pass to the gun show. All in exchange for being thrown into an endless war.

But becoming tall and buff means her old clothes don’t fit so well so a shopping trip, why not?

Because it could be dangerous, says Georgi. Marie questions when Georgi’s Avatar power is going to grow him a pair. He in turn tells her he can’t take her ‘simple, romance-novel addled brain’ that can only see the situation they’re in as a glory and holy fight. War is pain and blood and death and suffering and not happy endings and romance. Also he calls her princess which is what sets her off in that long spiel.

So Marie and Georgi change into their silly battle outfits and prepare to fight but Ramat interrupts them. Fighting amongst themselves, killing each other will just help Royale’s destroyers. Also you’re not children and he’s not your dad.

And then he storms off back to his study. He can’t keep them together unless they get on the offensive and they can’t get on the offensive until he deciphers hat Royale’s master plan even is. So back to the books.

And back to the flashbacks as Royale interrogates another Coptic priest who actually is more forthcoming, albeit in a passive-aggressive way.

And we get a flashback in a flashback as the Coptic priest spins a story about Horus and Set. How, prodded by Isis, Horus went to reclaim his godly birthright from Set, the murderer of his father.

Then they fight.

Although its a lot different than the myth. Did not involve any salad at all.

It does involve Horus getting his ass beat as a distraction so Isis sneaks into Heliopolis and steals the Rod of Rulership. Which she passes to Horus who then kicks Set’s ass, exiles him from Heliopolis.

A defeated Set promises to return and use his special Set sword to slay Horus.

Only problem is that he seems to have misplaced his special Set sword. Or rather a priest stole it while he wasn’t looking and ran away. And with Set’s sword and other artifacts, formed the secret order that Royale has been interrogating/murdering.

The story included the location of the buried temple which Royale marked down in his journal for safekeeping. He asks the priest why his order never dug out the temple. The priest responds that wise men known not to involve themselves with forces beyond their understanding also plus the gods sealed it and only the gods may unseal it.

But that’s all Royale needed to know. So he decapitates the priest. RIP priest who I don’t think was named.

Back in the present, Ramat reads that part of the journal and comes to an epiphany. Possibly because the journal entry title drops “Arcanum.” He tells Quentin to pack everything up, they’re headed for Egypt!

And then presumably they head for Egypt in the next issue.

Huh. An ad for Final Fantasy 7. So that’s the time frame we’re working with here.