#sarcophagus lid

[yourantiquarian]

Bronze Age sarcophagus lid

ITEM Sarcophagus lid MATERIAL Pottery CULTURE Bronze Age, Canaanite PERIOD 1400 - 1200 B.C DIMENSIONS 270 mm x 157 mm x 35 mm CONDITION Good condition PROVENANCE Ex Museum Exhibiton of the Arbeitsgruppe für Biblische Archäologie, Germany (Deaccession) The Canaanite sarcophagus lid is an extraordinary artifact that sheds light on the burial practices and artistic traditions of the ancient Canaanite civilization, which flourished in the Levant region from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age. These lids, typically crafted from stone such as limestone, were designed to cover sarcophagi, or stone coffins, that housed the deceased. The lids often featured intricate carvings and reliefs, reflecting both the artistic abilities of the Canaanites and their beliefs about the afterlife. Many Canaanite sarcophagi, particularly from the Late Bronze Age, show a fusion of Egyptian and local Canaanite influences, indicating the strong cultural exchange between these civilizations. One notable characteristic of Canaanite sarcophagus lids is the stylized human face or mask often carved into the stone. This representation of the deceased, though somewhat abstract, was believed to honor and preserve the identity of the individual in the afterlife. The facial features, typically simple and symmetrical, were not highly personalized but followed conventional designs, which might have reflected the Canaanite belief in the continuity of the soul beyond physical death. Read the full article

[iron-hearts-ablaze]

He pushed aside yet another sarcophagus lid. Draped himself over it. A cocky expression on his lips. "So who are we thanking today for his show of strength?"

"You're right, I should thank him for giving me a break with the heavy lifting." With a knowing smirk, Karlach swiped at the empty bottle at Astarion's hip, cradling it in her calloused hands. Turning now to speak to the empty flask. "Thank you, Cloud Giant Strength potion that Astarion nicked from my pack. You did great work today." Karlach gives the glass a little kiss before tossing it to the side and leaning over into the sarcophagus to see what was inside.

[slytherverse]

many years ago me and best friend were traipsing around the local history museum . the museum had an oft overlooked mummy exhibit on the third floor

the sarcophagus on display was open, the elaborate lid hanging a foot above the casket to barely reveal the mummy inside, like;

and bestfriend said, Sometimes they wrote messages under the lid for the Dead to read ,

and she laid down on the dirty museum carpet next to the glass case , patting the ground next to her for me to follow suit . sure enough, the underside of the casket lid was covered in inked characters , a brochure of directions to the afterlife in case they woke up all organless and confused

someone else wandered in to the little mummy room and asked if we were ok. she said, Come check this out. so he laid down on the other side.

i crossed my arms over my chest , and so did they . four bodies in a row , seeing a message intended for one; we love you, we miss you, we hope you find your way

[riverpiracy]

Joseph Robinette Biden, the forty-sixth president of the United States of America, was seen today being sealed into a container thought to resemble a sarcophagus. Hewn from a stone unknown to the large language model our reporters asked about it, the thing's lid made a terrible grinding noise—described unanimously by the nations tweens, who have begun performing contortions to the sound on TikTok and similar short-form video platforms, as "the gnashing of all teeth upon all whetstones, ong bro, ong."—as it was slid into place, and our cameras' view of the president's slowly probing hand was reduced until only a slit remained of the eighty year old Pennsylvania native's fingers as they moved across their newfound ceiling in the manner of reading braille, and this was also removed from sight. In Spaces, an audio-only livestream hosted on X, the platform previously known as Twitter, vice president Kamala Harris spoke of the incident, saying "He loves it in there, oh my God he really does (laughing) he really just (unintelligible) and I wish him the best. I wish him the best."

[ancientrome]

Marble sarcophagus with the Triumph of Dionysos and the Seasons. Roman ca. 260–270 CE. x

This highly ornate and extremely well-preserved Roman marble sarcophagus came to the Metropolitan Museum from the collection of the Dukes of Beaufort and was formerly displayed in their country seat, Badminton House in Gloucestershire, England. An inscription on the unfinished back of the sarcophagus records that it was installed there in 1733. In contrast to the rough and unsightly back, the sides and front of the sarcophagus are decorated with forty human and animal figures carved in high relief. The central figure is that of the god Dionysos seated on a panther, but he is somewhat overshadowed by four larger standing figures who represent the four Seasons (from left to right, Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall). The figures are unusual in that the Seasons are usually portrayed as women, but here they are shown as sturdy youths. Around these five central figures are placed other Bacchic figures and cultic objects, all carved at a smaller scale. On the rounded ends of the sarcophagus are two other groups of large figures, similarly intermingled with lesser ones. On the left end, Mother Earth is portrayed reclining on the ground; she is accompanied by a satyr and a youth carrying fruit. On the right end, a bearded male figure, probably to be identified with the personification of a river-god, reclines in front of two winged youths, perhaps representing two additional Seasons.

The sarcophagus is an exquisite example of Roman funerary art, displaying all the virtuosity of the workshop where it was carved. The marble comes from a quarry in the eastern Mediterranean and was probably shipped to Rome, where it was worked. Only a very wealthy and powerful person would have been able to commission and purchase such a sarcophagus, and it was probably made for a member of one of the old aristocratic families in Rome itself. The subjects - the triumph of Dionysos and the Seasons - are unlikely, however, to have had any special significance for the deceased, particularly as it is clear that the design was copied from a sculptor's pattern book. Another sarcophagus, now in the Hessisches Landesmuseum in Kassel, Germany, has the same composition of Dionysos flanked by the four Seasons, although the treatment and carving of the figures is quite different. On the Badminton sarcophagus the figures are carved in high relief and so endow the crowded scene with multiple areas of light and shade, allowing the eye to wander effortlessly from one figure to another. One must also imagine that certain details were highlighted with color and even gilding, making the whole composition a visual tour de force.

Very few Roman sarcophagi of this quality have survived. Although the Badminton sarcophagus lacks its lid, the fact that it was found in the early eighteenth century and soon thereafter installed in Badminton Hall means that it has been preserved almost intact and only a few of the minor extremities are now missing.

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 15 "Herr God, Beware"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: Thank you so much for your comments on the last chapter in particular. It was my favorite out of the entire fic 🥺🥺 And now, just some smut before we enter the finale (3 more chapters) 🥹

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Feyd-Rautha's strong hand clutches the wrist of his giggling, ticking time bomb as he herds her down the hollow hallway, back to her own chambers. Blackened water still dribbles down the thick curve of his pale calves and his feet leave wet imprints on the tiles. A black bathrobe clings damply to his shoulders, fabric curling around the salacious shape of his muscles.

Lilia quickly vacates her Lady's quarters and closes the door, Glugo at her hand, when the half undressed na-Baron and his beloved rush past her into the bedroom in a hurry.

His darling had wanted to have him right there in his tub. He had to stop her, rising out of the diluted healing concoction dripping wet. For their first time as proper betrotheds, he doesn't want to be submerged in claustrophobic bath water. He has a special place in mind, one that has her eyes growing round when she realizes that Feyd-Rautha does not intend to fuck her on the bed.

"Feyd! It's meant for cryo sleep, not for—"

"Open the lid, my darling, please."

Desire claws at his belly and a near perverse delight floods him when his fiancée obeys. Her pupils give a telltale flicker to the side and the top of the Sarcophagus swings open by her invisible command.

"What are you doing?" She giggles, her voice still high-pitched from the afternoon's victory.

Feyd-Rautha lets the bath robe drop to the floor and her eyes fall from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and the muscles of his glutes that flex beneath his fair skin when he raises one long leg and climbs into the man-shaped mold that had sheltered his darling during her long journey between the stars.

"I want you to have me in here."

His semi-hard cock falls against his navel as he sinks down. The gel padding of the mold is surprisingly soft, cool to the touch but quickly warming up to his damp skin. The surrounding walls are lined with tubes like blood vessels and the chamber hugs him like he was transferred back into the womb.

"It's designed for one person," she scolds, but her hands are already at her waist, sliding under the hem of her trousers.

"And your trousers are designed for men, yet you are wearing them." Feyd-Rautha lets one corded arm dangle out of the sarcophagus, beckoning his betrothed closer with a curl of his hand. "Come here," he purrs. "Sit in my lap."

"You dare lecture me on my clothing when I've just discovered—?" Her trousers and boots are kicked to the floor with ferocity and when she climbs into the mold to him, Feyd's cock swells to full hardness without even a touch. His woman's eyes flash with the kind of indignance that he had hoped to spark.

His pelvis leaves just enough space on each side of the chamber for her to slot her folded legs, though it is a tight fit. Feyd-Rautha's hard flanks warm her knees and she frees her torso from the cover of her tunic with a swift curl of her arms that has her chest popping out and her breasts lifting as she stretches her arms high. The garment tumbles to the floor and Feyd-Rautha's hands are immediately at her hips and belly.

When she meets his gaze and lets the apex of her thighs sink down on his pelvis, feeling the soft squishiness of his balls against her cunt, she realizes the true nature of Feyd's provocation. While her eyes are glaring with fire, his are glossy and wanton like the deep-blue oceans of her old home.

The hand with which she intends to aim the gun at the Baron slides over Feyd-Rautha's warm chest, where his heart beats, and he makes no move to overpower her or coax her into action, just holding her expectantly to his straining manhood. She lowers her voice, wild giggles replaced by a sultriness that comes from the overflowing well of her earlier victory. 

"Is that what you desire right now?" She coos, eyes gliding proudly over the hard, masculine body that lies so docile beneath her. He has been vulnerable with her before, when he needed her touch to keep himself from drowning, but never like this. Not with his pretty mouth open and his blue eyes rendered so dark with lust, like he's going to come apart willingly at a fleeting touch of her hand.

His submission is not an escape tonight, it is triumphant.

Feyd-Rautha nods and his tongue darts out briefly to wet his pink bottom lip. She eclipses the light of the golden glow globe and he readily cranes his head for her trailing hand, moaning when her fingers encircle his throat. The thick tendons that stretch from base to jaw strain against her palms, yielding under pressure, because despite how hard he looks, Feyd-Rautha is made of soft flesh, like anyone else.

As he gazes up admiringly, he briefly wonders how old his betrothed actually is. He's never asked her, but she glances down at him with a wisdom and confidence that melt his bones. Willingly, his knees fall apart against the walls of the man-sized cavern.

She's going to make it alright. She's going to cure his rot.

"Can you ask me again?" He demands pleadingly, his voice a low rasp that vibrates against the palm of her hand.

"Ask you what?" Her thumb brushes over the sharp tip of his Adam's Apple. It is cute, the way it jumps away from her touch, like a frightened animal.

"To be your husband."

"But you already said yes," she purrs and makes sure that he feels the weight of her against his pelvis. With the way she's seated on him, her clit comes to rub against his smooth pubic mound as she leans forward a little.

"But I want to say it again," Feyd-Rautha confesses. A part of him yearns for her to ask him again every new day, so he knows she hasn't changed her mind.

"How about you ask me now?" At that, her betrothed's strong fingers twitch around the soft flesh of her hips.

"Will you be my wife, my darling? Will you honor and serve me til death do us part?" His pupils fill out the blue pools of his irises with comical dilation and a heavy inhale raises his chest a bit closer to her breasts.

"Is that how Harkonnens ask for the hand of their Lady?"

"You need to say yes," Feyd-Rautha snarls with a pleading darkness gathering behind his eyes.

"I will, if you ask me right." Her cheeks are rounded in a coy grin, infuriatingly disregarding the distress that pounds against Feyd's ribs. His hold on her tightens and so does hers around his pale throat. At the possessive touch of him, her cunt provides moisture that flows across Feyd-Rautha's sac.

"Will you be my wife and let me honor and serve you til death do us part?"

She laughs brightly and the flexing of her muscles brings the cradle of her thighs against his pelvis in an involuntary jerk. When her betrothed moans, she repeats the same motion, this time deliberately, and leans down to his face, nestling it within her palms.

"I was thinking more of loving and caring for each other til death do us part, but I suppose honoring and serving works too, as long as we both do it."

"And does that mean yes?"

"Of course it does, silly boy. Yes, I will be your wife. And my wedding gift to you will be death."

He shudders obscenely at the power that lies at their fingertips. The power to not only put an end to his tormentor's regime, but to throw the universe into a new dark age — The universe that had always looked away from his suffering, endorsed it.

"Would you say this is a worthy gift, my love?" His woman purrs lovingly and slowly grinds her sweet, wet cunt against the base of his cock. 

Feyd-Rautha nods, moaning quietly. His hands just lightly aid the rolling of her pelvis that has his cock jump longingly against her abdomen, plump head almost nudging her navel. She feels the velvety hardness of him against her belly and arches her spine to meet the next twitch of his aching length.

"Then so be it."

One hand abandons his neck and embarks on a journey down the length of his smooth, tapered torso.

Feyd is the perfect harmony of strong and vulnerable. Thick muscles wrapped around his chest and shoulders, his thighs powerful and hard, his wiry forearms entwisted by prominent veins that stretch all the way down to his hands, knuckles still dusted in the purple remnants of bruises from the afternoon brawl. 

Yet, there is a graceful felinity to his long limbs and slender core and the way he carries himself, every muscle in a perfect equilibrium of poise. The skin she skims is made soft by lotions and oils, the perfectly delicate cover for the hard swells of his abdominal muscles that flex deliciously in the wake of her fleeting fingertips.

"Woman~" he moans low and sweetly and her gaze falls on the absurd dip of his cupid's bow and the plump curve that defines his bottom lip.

"Yes?" Her fingertips gently dance around his twitching length, indulging his abdomen in ticklish caress while avoiding the place where he aches all over.

"Please." Feyd's pelvis rolls up against her cunt, bare feet seeking purchase against the odd, cushioned floor of the sarcophagus.

To Feyd-Rautha, tonight is a night of self-indulgent weakness. He has grown long tired of living behind the guards of violent defense that he has erected around himself, sick of the impotent fear and rage his uncle has cultivated in his misshapen boy heart.

Perhaps Feyd would have been able to kill the Baron without her. But an animal may not be able to free itself from its cage, even when the key in the lock is turned. It may just need someone to push the handle and open the gate.

His darling may be diabolical for the knowledge she has unlocked with the aid of the machine that calmly hums beneath his back, but she is not diabolical to him. One sweet plea from his lips has her lifting her pelvis and his cock readily jumps against the folds of her cunt.

Another day, his hand would have been around the thick base of his cock to angle himself into her entrance, but tonight he waits for her smaller hand to guide him. The briefest of touch has his mouth open and his neck strained in anticipation, and then the wet heat of her meets his weeping slit.

"Oof~" A little sound escapes her lungs when the blunt tip of him spears her open wide, generously slick but otherwise unprepared. She holds herself there, fingers twisted into the skin of his tensing stomach. Feyd-Rautha waits with agonizing patience as the head of his cock is veritably crushed by her tight walls.

He is so absurdly sensitive, the impossibly slow descent of her pelvis has him hissing through his teeth.

"God, what did they, agh, feed you to make you grow to this size?"

Feyd-Rautha lets out a burst of boyish laughter, then curses to the Sun in Harkunnin  before he can tell her that, if not genetics, it could have only been the extraordinarily carnivorous diet he had enjoyed as a boy. She raises herself and the slow glide of her cunt massages the aching inches of his cock.

His voice grows guttural and deliciously pathetic as she establishes a slow, rolling pace, aided only gently by the push and pull of his hands. He feels truly cocooned in the way her walls wrap around his cock and her soft hands on his chest press him down into the cushioned gel pads.

The moisture from the bath has long dried on his skin and what dampens it now is a warm flush of arousal. Blue eyes are glued to the movement of her flesh, trailing over her tummy and breasts before meeting the calm, simmering confidence in her eyes. Her torso folds itself halfway over his chest, one hand propped against the gel cushion next to his head, the other cupping his flexing jaws.

"My baby just needs someone to take care of him, isn't that right?"

Feyd-Rautha's brows twitch briefly at the unfamiliar moniker, but its meaning is clear and his pelvis shudders against his will. A deep, sweet desire blossoms at the base of his spine, waiting to be spilled.

"My baby boy has been so lonely all his life, but I'm here now. I'm taking care of you."

He wants to be something for someone, something of value, something precious, something coveted and even vulnerable. For once in his life, someone is standing up for him and Feyd falls head first into the white-hot ignition of love that pulses at his core and reaches so quickly into his balls and the root of his cock.

"Yeeesss," he moans, brows scrunching together tightly. The steady rocking of his beloved's hips milks him dry of his cum and his lungs wheeze in breathless huffs. Tears prick at his eyes below closed lids.

"My darling," she sighs, her voice a shiver that flows across his face along with her hot breath, so close, so sweet.

"More," he demands even though his empty cock begins to burn from the deep rhythm that fills her out from entrance to navel. Feyd-Rautha's strong fingers cling needily to her hips and she grins upon his request, straightening herself. A bead of sweat dribbles down between her breasts.

"Then be good and help me, yes?"

His thumb is on her bundle of nerves before she can even finish her sentence, blue eyes wickedly gleaming with determination. It is the least he can do to reward her for being an angel sent to him across space and time. 

Her pelvis rolls back and forth, meeting the perfectly placed pressure of the pad of his thumb. Even with him half flaccid, she still feels deliciously full, and the gravelly moans she pulls from his throat sinfully aid the approach of her climax, a tightening pressure against the base of her spine that seems to be pulling every muscle inwards to her core.

In their wake, they make a mess all over his lap and balls, inky seed marking them both in sticky trails.

Where another man might struggle, Feyd-Rautha has little trouble growing hard again from having his future wife around his overstimulated cock. The pleasure-pain of it makes him sink his teeth into his plush bottom lip and his fingers into her waist, taking back a smidge of control. His shaft twitches against her tender walls.

"Just like thi-is, ahh, Feyd—!" Her toes curl against the outsides of his thighs.

"Almost there, sweetling," he promises, positioning his soles safely against the cushioned ground and then pistons up into her cunt. The force and stamina behind his thrusts is effortless, splitting her poise. Her torso falls against his, breasts flattened against the hard planes of his chest, lips finding his.

Feyd-Rautha drinks up his to-be wife's needy whines like wine from a chalice, wraps one strong arm around her middle while his thumb remains on her swollen, little clit. His cock does the rest, rhythm powered by his thick thighs, he slams himself into her slick cunt.

Moments away from climax, her tongue squirms against his and her pelvis tries to escape from his hold, the first tendrils of white-hot pleasure so overwhelming that her first reaction is flight. But Feyd-Rautha's grip screws itself tight around her waist and the next, perfect circle of his thumb has her coming apart on his cock, drool slipping into his open mouth, in glistening rivulets down his black teeth.

Feyd gives himself to the sweet strangulation of her cunt, shuddering from each burst of seed that is wrenched from his balls. Each clench of their combined release sparks like a bang of fireworks, a rumble that shakes the fundament of the universe.

Their bodies grow still aside from their lungs' heaving and Feyd-Rautha's cheeks are dusted in a blush, lids drooping low as he lets his big hands wander over the curves of her body in blissful delirium. When his hand arrives in her nape, their lips meet again for a slow dance in the afterglow of their release — lazy, sloppy kisses and slow grinding of their hips while sweat cools on their flesh.

A silly thought tugs on the strings of his drowsy mind. If he fell asleep right here and she closed the lid of her sarcophagus over him, he could time travel to a world where the Baron is already dead and burned. He has not a doubt in his heart that she will make it happen.

With a sweet sigh, his darling straightens herself, fingertips lingering on his belly as she admires him from above. Golden glowglobe light spills from the crown of her head down her shoulders like a bridal veil, like a ruler's cape. Feyd-Rautha's hand moves up her sternum and cups her warm cheek. Her lashes flutter shut and she exhales slowly, and by the time she casts them open again, her gaze has sharpened itself to the tip of a spear.

She was an unshaped piece of wood, pulled out of the grave, then carved into a lumpy shape by the Bene Gesserit and set on the board, a wildcard pawn with promising genes, ready to play.

Now, she is about to shatter the chessboard with a fractal hammer, because now she has a reason. 

For him. For her new kin. And out of rage. And for freedom.

The Bene Gesserit didn't just open a relic from space. What they did is unleash an invasive species from a time capsule into a delicately stable ecosystem, and she intends to unravel it like a tumor from within.

Ash, ash — You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the [ice] I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

   - Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

A/N: Because I'm an asshole, I will say the following: Two characters will die in the next chapter, and one of them you're looking forward to. Give me your best guesses 😌✨ If anyone guesses correctly, I'll eat my own arm.

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[blueiscoool]

The Tomb of a Royal Scribe Discovered in Egypt

Czech experts have made another important discovery in the Egyptian archaeological site in Abusir. They found the hitherto unexplored tomb of the royal scribe Dzhehutiemhat, which is richly decorated in the form of many hieroglyphic texts and images. They mainly consist of ritual and religious texts, which were supposed to ensure the soul of the deceased an eternal life in the next world.

In April and May of this year, another part of field research by Czech Egyptologists regarding shaft tombs from the middle of the first millennium BC took place in Abusir, Egypt. It was here that the archaeological team of the Czech Institute of Egyptology of the Faculty of Arts of Charles University discovered the tomb of a hitherto unknown dignitary from the time of the Persian invasion of Egypt.

“It is a richly decorated shaft tomb of medium size, whose owner, a certain Džehutiemhat, held the office of royal scribe,” explains Ladislav Bareš, who has been coordinating the research of Abusir shaft tombs for a long time.

From the tomb, the above-ground part of which was destroyed already in ancient times, only the main shaft was preserved, at the bottom of which lay a burial chamber made of limestone blocks at a depth of 14 meters. Access to it was provided by a small, more northerly shaft and a narrow corridor approximately three meters long connecting the access shaft with the burial chamber.

For reasons still unknown, this access shaft was largely filled with several dozen decorated limestone blocks, originating from the dismantled above-ground part of the nearby majestic tomb of General Menechibnekon.

A tomb with rich decoration

The burial chamber is richly decorated with texts and other scenes. A long sequence of incantations against snakebite from the Pyramid Texts covers the north entrance wall. Interestingly, the snakes mentioned in these magical texts represented a potential danger, but could also serve as powerful protectors of the deceased and his mummy.

“While the entrance to the nearby Menechibnekon’s burial chamber was protected by the guardians of the gates of the 144th chapter of the Book of the Dead, in the case of Džehutiemhat, snakes from the Pyramid Texts play this role,” adds Renata Landgráfová, director of the Institute of Egyptology and an expert on the ancient Egyptian language and texts.

The south and west walls are covered with a sacrificial ritual and an extensive sacrificial list. On the ceiling of the burial chamber are depictions of the journey of the sun god Reo through the sky, first in the morning and then in the evening celestial bar. The depictions are accompanied by hymns to the rising and setting sun. Inside the burial chamber covered with relief decoration is a large stone sarcophagus, which also bears hieroglyphic inscriptions and depictions of gods, both outside and inside. The lid is decorated with texts taken from the Book of the Dead, but also excerpts from the much older Pyramid Texts, which partially repeat sayings that also appear on the walls of the burial chamber.

Ritual texts for eternal life

On the bottom of the inner wall of the sarcophagus bath, the goddess of the west, Imentet, is depicted, and its inner sides bear the so-called canopic sayings, spoken by this goddess and the earth god Geb. “The goddess of the west inside the sarcophagus represents the protector, guide and symbolic mother of the deceased,” explains Jiří Janák, who analyzes and interprets religious and magical texts as part of field research.

All the mentioned spiritual-ritual texts were supposed to ensure the deceased a smooth entry into a blissful and well-secured eternal life in the afterlife.

The tomb of the scribe Dzhehutiemhat was discovered almost empty, as it was robbed probably already in the 5th century AD, similar to other tombs in this burial ground.

The deceased suffered from sedentary work

From the anthropological analysis of the skeletal remains, which was carried out by leading Egyptian experts, it was found that Dzhehutiemhat died at a relatively early age of around 25 years, he bore the signs of a kind of occupational disease (wear and tear of the spine during sedentary work) and suffered from severe osteoporosis, i.e. thinning of the bones.

The latter fact could place him in the family of other inhabitants of the Abusir shaft tomb burial, in whom the disease was also confirmed, such as the famous Iufaa, the owner of a nearby much larger tomb, whose unlooted burial chamber was discovered in 1996.

It is therefore possible that most of the owners of the tombs buried in this part of the Abusir necropolis belonged to one extended family, firmly anchored in the military elite of late Saiyan Egypt. However, Dzhehutiemhat’s mother probably came from completely different circles and a different part of Egypt at that time. Her two names can be translated as “Nubian” and “Fox”, while the latter is written in an unusual, most likely Berber form.

They also found a collection of pottery in the tomb. “The discovery of a large fragment of a Chian amphora with a perfectly smoothed edge is also very interesting, because the ancient looters probably used it as a shovel,” says Květa Smoláriková, who is an expert on Egyptian ceramics and Greek imports in the Czech team.

“The recently discovered tomb of the dignitary Džehutiemhat on the Abusír archaeological concession is the latest piece of knowledge in the mosaic of the history of ancient Egypt at the end of its glory in the late period, in the 6th century BC,” says Miroslav Bárta, director of Czech archaeological research in Abusír, about the discovery.

“The shaft tombs represent a special type of tombs of this time. They were created as a specific attempt by the ancient Egyptian elites for a renaissance and are based on the form of the tomb of King Djoser, the founder of the famous Old Kingdom, the time of the pyramid builders in the 3rd millennium BC,” he adds.

[klewpq]

Goddess Nut, inside the lid of the sarcophagus of King Merneptah (19th dynasty, 1273-1202 BC)

[egypt-museum]

Sarcophagus lid of the Vizier Sasobek

Late Period, 26th Dynasty, ca. 664-610 BC. Now in the British Museum, EA17

The lid is finely carved, showing the deceased wearing wig, beard and collar and with two vertical registers of hieroglyphic offering texts, surmounted by a figure of Nut. “It may have been found in Sais, the city from which Psamtik’s family came.

The sarcophagus is one of the finest examples of its type, and very well preserved. While many anthropoid (human-shaped) sarcophagi have rather exaggerated features, Sasobek’s face is naturalistic (although not a portrait) and serene. Sasobek holds the djed pillar representing the god Osiris in one hand and the tyet knot of the goddess Isis in the other."

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[bluebellhairpin]

I'm going to revert to 17 year old me who was obsessed with night at the museum for a second. So bare with me an imagine this reincarnation au.

So reincarnation is so completely not what ancient Egyptians believe it. It basically ruins the concept of an afterlife (something they lived their whole lives around, literally) by saying that after you die you're born again as a human. So let's say, for this sake, that soulmate reincarnation existed, but back then they didn't have much of a grasp on it. If they got visions of a past life they mightve chalked it up as divinic visions, especially, say if you were at a god-like status of Pharaoh.

So when Ahkmenrah's tablet was formed, it essentially stopped him for being reincarnated, tying his whole being to his old body. You however, didn't have the privilege. You, his soulmate, was buried somewhere else by Kahmenrah as a final "fuck you" to spite his little brother in the afterlife. You, having being reborn over and over for thousands of years and never finding your soulmate ever again - because he isn't being reborn.

However you've always had a love of all things ancient Egyptian. Something about it comforted you. Your past lives spoke for that; a writer, acreologist, teacher, explorer, even glimpses of a life in old streets of Memphis. It made sence then that now you worked in the British Museum when you weren't working on your degree.

One night had you working later than usual. Everyone else had gone home. The sun disappeared over the tops of buildings and darkness rose to follow it. The nightguard, having know you for weeks now, decided to let you stay a little bit longer as your finished up writing about the stela before you. Her face was knowing, she left you with the words "be careful", which at the time seemed like a far too obvious thing to say.

But when the carvings on the stela began to move, turning to look up at your with tilted heads, you thought that meant it was time to go home to bed. When you turned, finding the giant stature of Ramses II staring down at you, you almost screamed. When the sarcophagus lids of Merenkahre, Shepseheret, and Ahkmenrah started moving and the mummy's - no, fully dressed people - sat up, you practically fainted.

Well actually you did faint.

When you woke up though, looking up at the face of a man you knew you knew as your lost lover, you smiled. And so did he.

[memories-of-ancients]

Mummy sarcophagus lid, Egypt, twenty first dynasty, 1075-945 BC

from The Penn Museum

[ivorydragoness44]

Ahkmenrah x Reader: Sarcophagus

Sarcophagus Part 2

Word Count: 1,276 Warnings/Notes: Jump scare via Ahkmenrah yelling and the Reader not expecting that at all. Summary: The Reader is cataloging in the museum past closing, they are surprised to see the sarcophagus of the pharaoh Ahmenrah shaking and someone yelling from within it. Will the Reader stay to figure things out, or will a night guard find them first before they can truly help Ahk?

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

  The echo of footsteps came and went. Some lingered with more interest than others. It was the usual sound of a museum. Quiet murmuring of the exhibits and the curiosities the guests held for anything unusual or a spark of amazement.   The Museum of Natural History held such wonder. Though the amount of visitors came in few as years went by, that statistic never curved your interest. Which was all the more reason why you found yourself there presently.   You had checked your watch again as it neared the time of closing. But with such interest and focus, it was easy to lose track of time. The object of your gaze for the past couple of hours resided in the Ancient Egyptian exhibit. Within it, the Pharaoh Ahkmenrah and a collection of his belongings, found in his tomb alongside him decades ago.   Sketching in the next hieroglyph into your notebook, you were determined to complete one more row before leaving for the night. It may not be the most exciting task to the others, especially to anyone who noticed, but you enjoyed it. Honestly, you would not be doing it if you dreaded it. Not everyone could say the same, you were thankful that you could.   As the hieroglyphs began to fill another line on the page, you muttered to yourself. It was a thought, that perhaps you should have left enough space on the page between the lines for your translations. At least it was merely a minor inconvenience.

  Unknowingly to you through your mutterings, the golden tablet displayed on the wall above began to glow.   The sun had set. The exhibits within the museum started to awaken for the night. Every night like the one before. You, however, were the only difference. Completely focused, and yet utterly oblivious.   Kneeling down, you inspected the last hieroglyph. Or, at least, the last one to draw for the day. “I can’t believe they took this out of a tomb,” you grumbled to yourself, “I guess it was easier for them to clear out and transport these magnificent archeological finds than create a replica. Display purposes and no doubt—”   “AHHHH!”   “AHH!” You spun onto the floor in fright. Looking for the ongoing source of your initial panic, you saw no one behind you. No one except the sarcophagus. The shaking sarcophagus.

  This was not a case of caffeine jitters or accidentally falling asleep during work. No, the confines of the sarcophagus were indeed yelling and the pins holding the lid on were rattling as fast as your heart.   Had you entered a scene in a horror movie, or was someone pulling an elaborate trick on you? If the latter, you were sure to exchange some professionally heated words with them. Tampering with a mummy that needed proper care to remain well preserved required the utmost respect.   Thinking more about a sneaky trick, you frowned. “Stop shouting.”   All sounds ceased.   Peering around, you expected at least one other person to come jogging into the Temple room to free their colleague. But silence remained.   Slowly, you stood to your feet and walked forward. “I’m crazy.” As you looked down upon the golden face, your breath caught. Could you have been imagining all of this? “Just…don’t scare me this time,” you requested in a small voice.   “My apologies,” a muffled voice spoke earnestly from within the sarcophagus.   “I am crazy,” you sighed. “I’m talking to an ancient mummy in a museum.”   “I am Ahkmenrah. Fourth King of the Fourth King, Ruler of the land of my fathers. Please, release me.”   “And you’re…alive? How?” You asked, absolutely dumbfounded.   “My tablet, it brings life to everything in this museum at night.”   Turning around, you tilted your head curiously. The tablet of Ahkmenrah. Made of solid gold, it was seen as the most prized possession within the entire collection. Even more than the pharaoh himself.   “Why are you trapped? Have you not told either of the night guards?”   Though muffled through his wrappings and his sarcophagus, you could clearly identify sorrow when you heard it.   “I do not truly know. I have called out each night for years, but to no prevail”   “Alright,” you took a steadying breath. Stepping over to your right, you aligned the palms of your hands with the side of the stone slab. It was the original lid to the rectangular coffin, but was placed in such a way to have the decorative face of the sarcophagus on display. “This goes against my better judgement…and my favorite 1999 film.”   Pushing against the heavy block, it hardly budged. With a shift of your feet, you got better footing. “Come on,” you strained, putting as much of your body weight into your effort as possible.   One more try, and your shoe slipped, squeaking beneath you as your chest hit the lid. “Ah,” you winced. Shaking your head slowly, winded. You stood back up/straighter. “I’m sorry—I…I’m not strong enough.”   Ahkmenrah was silent. Not a shake of his voice or embellished lid.   “Maybe I can get a friend of mine, a colleague, to help me tomorrow night,” you offered, making your way back over to his golden likeness. “Would that be all right?”   “Yes. That would be wonderful,” he replied. A lightness that was not in his voice before, shined.   “I don’t want you to feel alone otherwise.”   “Thank you.”

  Before you could add any more to the conversation, you stopped. Footsteps from the hall outside made its way into the room. And then a voice. Polite yet firm in acknowledging your presence.   “It’s past closing,” he announced, making your head snap up in his direction.   “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” you stood straighter, “I guess I just lost track of time.”   The light glinted off of his white hair as he stepped up to the small roped off barricade in front of the case. “Admiring history will do that to you,” he nodded.   “Yes.” Internally, you hesitated, but dared not show it. You were given permission to be there. It was a part of your profession.   His brows rose. “Getting acquainted with the pharaoh?”   “Yes, I just had to admire him for a little while longer—after cataloging the hieroglyphs, of course.”   “Yes, of course.”

  Remembering, you turned around to retrieve your notebook and pen. Hastily, you stashed them away into your bag. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know you gentlemen have a very important job to do.” Standing back up, you avoided taking a glance at Ahkmenrah’s tablet. You were not sure of the night guards’ reasons for keeping the pharaoh locked away, but you did not want to venture into such a conversation at the moment.   “Here, I’ll walk you out,” he offered when you turned back around/toward him.   “Thank you.”   “My pleasure.”   Holding your bag closer to yourself, you quietly walked between the two lines of the pillars. You kept to yourself all the more when eerie crackling sounds from the tall Anubis statues reached your ears. Chills ran over your skin.   Leaving the Temple of Ahkmenrah exhibit, you played the ignorance card hard. With your notebook back in your hand, you kept your eyes down. Trained to the paper in front of your face, you ignored every sound and movement. And as you reached the revolving doors at the front of the museum, you were certain that you could not ‘accidentally’ stay late again. Something was going on in that museum, but no one else knew. You could only hope to find a suitable reason to be near Ahkmenrah after hours again. Your curiosity and perhaps his sanity depended on it.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Thank you for reading! Be sure to check out my Masterlist for more fanfictions :)

[new-revenant]

During patrol Nightwing found a handmade doll that resembled his hero persona, this wouldn't be so weird if it weren't for the fact that he finds dolls resembling the other members of the batfam's hero personas scattered in odd spots throughout Gotham and Bludhaven. The weirdest thing happens when one night he finds a doll of someone he doesn't recognize. It's a pale teen with white hair and bright green button eyes wearing what looks like a black and white hazmat suit. Nightwing picks it up and the doll immediately bursts into Lazarus green flames. Nightwing finally decided to tell the fam about the dolls not knowing that Phantom, who was sealed in a sarcophagus by treacherous observents several years prior, was now awake. The problem is that the sarcophagus is in the batcave as a trophy, needless to say everyone was surprised when the lid suddenly blew off and out stepped a teenager. Danny is a mix of anger and confusion because this definitely isn't Amity Park

You know. This is almost the exact plot of another, non-dp-related-AU I’ve seen. It’s @/ovegakart doll AU, it’s an AU of Linked Universe, which is itself a LoZ AU where a bunch of Links have come together across time because reasons I won’t get into. In the second ever LoZ game, Adventure of Link, there are these dolls that are scattered across the map. They give you an extra life. So, in ovegakart’s AU, the Link from the first game and AoL(it the same link)finds dolls of himself and the other Links while in his own time. Then, in a well, he finds a doll of a Link none of them have ever seen before. He picks it up and it bursts into flames. I checked, that’s what happened, here is a link to the page. Oh, and Nightwing not telling his family about the dolls until he gets Danny’s? The same thing happened in this AU, where AoL Link doesn’t tell the other Links about the dolls until he comes across the mysterious Link doll. That mystery Link is the First Hero btw, he’s from the Skyward Sword manga.

I would’ve liked it if you, I dunno, credited the idea? Or at least make it not so obvious by changing the doll into something else? Or make it so that Nightwing only finds a Danny doll? Maybe have it melt into ectoplasm even? I have a couple posts already about how I’m a LU fan on here, and if you’ve seen that before, then did you think I didn’t follow ovegakart, one of the biggest LU/LoZ creators? Listen, I’m not mad at you, I’m just confused at your thought process here. This AU idea wasn’t made for dpxdc, it doesn’t even make much sense for it. Yeah yeah, people can do whatever they want, whatever, but at least credit it my god. Or change it up to suit dpxdc more, or both.

How many other people have just taken AU ideas from others and pawned it off as their own, thinking that no one would find out since they’re from another fandom? It makes me feel gross. Please, just credit the idea. If I just posted this with some writing adding onto this, not knowing about this idea coming from another fandom and another person. I think I might need to close my asks for a bit, I don’t feel great, sorry.

[nancydrewwouldnever]

Etruscan (from Vulci, Lazio, Italy), Sarcophagus Lid with a Husband and Wife, ca. 350-300 BCE, travertine (Museum of Fine Arts, Boston)

[penny00dreadful]

CW for this chapter on AO3

Part 1/ Part 4/ Part 6/ AO3

Eddie landed in a heap on the floor. His shoulder and hip fucking hurt from the impact but he was at least thankful he hadn’t landed on his head. 

He rolled onto his back, trying to breathe through it, staring up at the stone ceiling above him.

Jesus Christ, had it only been a few days since he’d laid on the floor of the library?

Hoping that that was going to be the most exciting thing to ever happen to him?

Well, he’d kind of tempted fate on that one. 

He dug his hand into his pocket, running his thumb over the grooves of the pocket watch again, trying to get his senses back under control.

He wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural or the spiritual, despite everything that had happened to him recently, all of that could be explained. In theory.

He would just need to… examine it more.

There was a shuffling sound behind him, like someone dragging their feet through the sand.

Eddie shot to his feet, not wanting to be set upon by whatever else this fucking ruined city had in store for him, but felt his shoulders drop when he recognised the back of the guy standing in front of him.

“Benson, is that you?” He asked, taking a hesitant step forward.

Fred Benson kept his back to him, swaying back and forth on his feet, letting out a little whimper.

Eddie stopped for a second, not entirely sure what to do but he was just one of the Cowboys, right? They’d be able to find their way back to their parties together, surely. 

They could team up and be nerds of a feather, out of their depth.

Even though Eddie still had possession of Fred’s archeological tools but… he’d blame Steve for that. 

Speaking of Steve, Eddie could hear the caveman himself and Robin somewhere up above, banging against the wall he had fallen through, trying to get in.

At least he knew he wasn’t going to be down here for long.

Eddie took in a deep breath, trying to keep his head on straight and took another step forward, reaching out for Fred’s shoulder.

Before Eddie could touch him though, Fred turned and Eddie screamed, the sound bouncing around the dark stone chamber.

He snatched his hand back, clutching it tight to his chest.

Eddie nearly tripped over his own feet trying to put as much distance between himself and the horrifying sight in front of him.

Fred’s fucking eyes were missing. 

And not only that, when he opened his mouth to make another heartbreakingly pathetic, pained and scared noise, Eddie could see straight to the back of his throat.

His tongue was gone as well, what… what the fuck?!

The hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stood straight on end, that strange nebulous survivor's instinct telling him there was something behind him.

He whipped around, hoping, praying to see Robin or Steve or anyone else who would be able to confirm just what the fuck he was looking at but when his eyes landed on the figure skulking in the shadows, he screamed again, louder this time, far more terrified.

His mothers pocket watch wouldn’t be able to help him with this one.

It was their mummy. Their mummy that they had discovered below. The still fucking juicy guy who had been eaten alive.

But instead of the dead, mysteriously half-rotting mummy he had been, lying in a sarcophagus with scratched out sacred spells and fingernail marks inside the lid, he was standing now, slowly approaching. A mess of tattered linen around his body and still barely attached glistening, putrefied skin clinging onto his bones, to go with the fresh fucking eyes and tongue now sitting in his head.

Eddie wheeled himself backwards, only coming to a stop when he hit a wall, his eyes wide and unblinking, not willing to tear his gaze away from the approaching undead thing.

Was he hallucinating? 

Did he hit his head when he fell?

Was this all some kind of fucked up dream, or trip or…

Did he eat something bad and he was having an Ebenezer Scrooge moment?

There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!

Eddie opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what he was trying to say. The banging and shouting from Robin and Steve above cut off abruptly as the chittering and scurrying sound of the beetles began to sound overhead again.

Fuck, they better not be dead. Eddie was going to kill them, if they were dead.

“Hey man,” Eddie almost laughed to himself at the sheer absurdity of what was going on. He held his hands out in front of him. “Looks like you’re freaking out right now and I’m kind of freaking out right now too, but how about you stop slowly approaching me like some kind of Nosferatu inspired nightmare and just relax, yeah?”

The mummy didn’t stop. In fact, he held his hand out, as if trying to reach for him and a horrible growling, cracking but almost questioning sound came out of him.

“Anck-Su-Namun?”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what the fuck he was going to say in response because like… that was a name.

Not his name, but a name regardless.

Eddie was pressed flat back against the wall, the mummy getting ever closer with an outstretched hand, speaking again, a little gentler this time.

“Come with me, my love.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he stopped breathing because… what? What?!

“The fuck happened, Eddie?” Steve burst into the room, eyes only on Eddie as he took the scant few steps over to his side, closing his fingers around his wrist. “The door’s right over there, are you playing hide and seek or someth- woah!”

Steve had finally turned his head enough to catch sight of the mummy standing in front of them, but though he seemed surprised to see a figure where he hadn’t expected it, he didn’t seem surprised to see a walking fucking mummy!

Steve’s hand left his wrist almost immediately, settling back on his rifle which he raised and pointed directly at the mummy who was glaring in anger. 

Or at least, that’s what Eddie assumed was happening. It was difficult to identify expressions with unattached rotting flesh hanging off of a skull.

The rotten and peeling lips started to pull back in a snarl but all of their attention was swiftly diverted by the arrival of Robin along with the other Cowboys through the door.

While the Cowboys all stopped and stared in shock at the walking corpse in front of them, Robin didn’t hesitate, continuing her pace until she was next to Steve, her own gun raised.

Eddie glanced to the side, taking in the two of them. 

They had twin looks of grim determination, hard and somehow confident in their posture, like this wasn’t the weirdest fucking thing they’d ever seen in their lives before.

The mummy in front of them reared back before leaning forward again, a horrific screeching scream coming from his mouth.

Eddie screamed back, practically hanging onto Steve’s arm, his own manic irritation at the sheer unreality of everything happening around him being released through his throat.

Before the mummy could do much more, both Steve and Robin had pulled their triggers, sending the creature careening backwards and to the floor with rounds to the hip and the chest.

Steve wrenched his arm from Eddie’s grip, only to shove him to the side, pushing him towards another exit and starting the two of them into a sprint. Robin leapt over the prone corpse on the floor that was starting to shift again, putting another bullet into it before taking off after them.

“Robbie!” Steve called over his shoulder, his hand at Eddie’s back, keeping him moving forward. “Please tell me you know how to break this curse!”

“Not off the top of my head, no!” She shouted back, directly behind them.

“Why the fuck not?!”

Steve’s hand had migrated from Eddie’s back to his hand now, holding on tight as Eddie’s piddly little scholar's legs started to slow them down.

“Oh, excuse me!” Robin snapped, keeping up with them, easily able to have a fucking argument with Steve while Eddie was barely able to breathe. “We’ve never dealt with ancient curses before! It’s all been swamp monsters and mad scientists and vampires, get off my ass Harrington!”

Eddie didn’t have time to process. Didn’t have time to parse through Robin’s words or Steve’s hand in his because as soon as the chamber around them began to open up to the sky above, growing lighter with the dawn, they were stopped dead in their tracks by a line of guns and the same group of men who had attacked their camp a few nights ago, standing in their way, the Egyptologist on his knees, at their feet.

The Cowboys had followed, stopping short just behind them, hands up as soon as they caught sight of the rifles pointed their way.

The man at the centre stepped forward, pulling his face covering down to glare at Steve specifically. 

 “We warned you to leave.” The stranger growled. “And now you have unleashed something we have been keeping guard over for 3,000 years.”

Steve gave a little shrug. Eddie would have called it cocky a few days ago, but now he could see embarrassment and a bit of bashfulness hidden underneath.

“It was an accident?” Steve said, unconsciously squeezing his fingers around Eddie’s hand.

“An accident?” The stranger hissed, opening his mouth again, no doubt ready to tear into Steve with his words, but Robin took a step forward, holding her hands out.

“Listen,” she tried to smile at them. They didn’t return it. “We’re in the same line of work. We made a mistake, yes. But this isn’t our first rodeo.” She paused. “Well, it’s the first of this kind but we can help each other out.”

“We’ve had enough of your help.” The man snapped, waving someone forward. 

Two of his men gently helped Fred Benson towards them. Fred Benson who was still shaking with fear and whimpering, blind to everything around him and unable to speak.

“What did you do to him?!” Jason shouted, taking one of Fred’s arms while Billy took the other.

The stranger in front of them glared almost offended at Jason. “This was not our doing. Take care of him. Get him home.” He looked from Fred back to Steve and Robin. “We need to clean up your mess. Leave before you make things worse.”

Eddie swallowed, his nerves pulling him close to Steve’s side, their hands still clasped together as the group in front of them dispersed.

He turned his eyes on Steve, big and round but still creased with worry.

“What did I do?”

“Don’t worry.” Steve squeezed his hand again. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Eddie was so happy to be home. Back in Cairo, back in his apartments. Back amongst his books and his bed and his own wardrobe again.

Almost as soon as he’d set foot inside, he’d raided his small at home library for anything he could find on what or even who this walking mummy could be.

“He was known as Vecna.” He said, reclined back in his bed with Asmodeus curled up on his stomach.

“Vecna?” Steve asked, heaving Eddie’s empty suitcase up onto his table. “What kind of a name is Vecna?”

“Sounds made up.” Robin said, lying down next to him, thumbing through one of his many volumes.

“It is made up. Some kind of amalgamation of a name he gave himself. He was one of the Sea Peoples that invaded during The New Kingdom of Egypt. There’s very little written about him, but now I’m wondering if they just erased what they had written- what are you doing?”

Steve looked up from the fistfull of Eddie’s clothes he had in his hands.

“Packing, what does it look like?”

Eddie dropped his book to the side and picked Asmodeus up, placing her gently down on Robin’s lap.

He stomped over to Steve, ripping the clothes from his grip.

“We are not going anywhere!” He snapped, turning and throwing them back into his drawers.

“Correct.” Steve gathered Eddie’s books up in his arms and dumped them into the open suitcase. “We,” he gestured between himself and Robin, “are staying. You,” he pointed at Eddie, “are going.”

“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

Eddie snatched the books back out of his case.

“Someone who is far more experienced at this kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?” Eddie shouted, slamming his books down on his desk. “Chasing down spooky monsters?”

“Yes!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbing his shirts back from Steve who was trying to stuff them into the suitcase again. “What, like this is your job?” He scoffed at himself, almost finding the ridiculousness of it funny. “You do this for a living?”

He saw Robin shrug out of the corner of his eye while she ran her fingers through white purring fur. “We do, actually.”

Eddie whipped around to look at her. “You— what?”

“We chase down spooky monsters for a living.”

“That–” He looked between the two of them, expecting something to tell him that he was the butt of the joke here, but he only found sincerity. “–That’s not a real job.”

Steve snorted, snatching the pocket watch up from the desk. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Hey!” Eddie reached out, pulling it from his grip. “Be careful with that!”

He wasn’t willing to let Yasmine Munson née Elsayed’s last worldly item get damaged by whatever temper tantrum Steve was having right now. 

He clutched it between his fingers, letting out a furrowed eyebrow huff. “Okay, whatever. I’ll ask my questions later. But for now—” 

He snapped his suitcase closed, just barely missing Steve’s fingers.

“—I’m not going anywhere. Think of all the questions I could ask him. Think about how much I could learn!”

Steve took a deep breath in, glaring at him and placing both hands down on the closed suitcase, leaning in. “Eddie.” He hissed. “The mummy is trying to kill you.”

“We don’t know that!” He waved his hands around. “Yeah, he got a little pissy when you two shot him, but who wouldn’t?”

“You want to go on a cute little study date with the mummy who’s trying to kill you and destroy the world? If he’s raised then he’s bringing the Plagues. You said that. And who’s to say he’s going to stop there?”

“I don’t want a date with him—”

“You’re not dating the mummy.” Steve snapped, wrenching the suitcase back open. “You’re leaving. I told you I’d keep you safe and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“You expect me to run while the future of the world is in danger?”

“No, I expect you to take care of yourself and have just a little,” Steve held his thumb and forefinger up close together, “bit of self preservation for my own sanity.”

“What about your self preservation?”

 “Mine is not in question here.” Steve dodged out of Eddie’s way, now just grabbing anything he could get his hands on and shoving them into the case. “I have experience.”

“And I don’t? I’ve read the ancient texts and I know what the outcome of this curse is. Once this creature has been reborn, his curse is going to spread until the whole of the Earth is destroyed. How is sending me away supposed to keep me safe if the whole world is destroyed? You gonna send me to space or something?”

“God, do you have to be so fucking insufferable?”

“Yes!” Eddie had lost his patience and instead of trying to grab his shit again, he just upended the entire suitcase, sending it crashing to the ground, scattering his things and scaring the shit out of Asmodeus who tore off of Robin’s lap and darted under the bed. “I’m staying.”

Steve glared at him, chest heaving, looking like he was ready to rip his own hair out. 

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Steve turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.

Eddie huffed to himself, unable to believe the fucking audacity of some people.

He crouched down to his knees, tipping his head low to look under the bed.

“Asy.” He called out to her, trying to be gentle in his approach. “Asy, I’m sorry, it’s okay.” He reached his hand under blindly and when he felt soft fur and not the swipe of claws, he gave her a little scritch and decided it would be best to let her come out in her own time.

“I’ll go talk to him.” Robin scooched herself off the bed, following Steve out of the door.

Eddie sighed and relaxed back against the wall, glancing back down at the reflected yellow eyes staring accusingly at him from the darkness under the bed. 

“You don’t think I’m being ridiculous, right?”

Eddie wasn’t sure how many hours had passed before he had to admit he just didn’t have all the information available to him in his books at home. He’d have to go back to the museum and dig through the volumes at the library there.

He had only just stepped out into the courtyard, one of his books in his hand, when he heard running footsteps behind him.

Eddie dropped his arms, not even bothering to conceal an eye roll when he saw who was approaching.

“Oh, it’s you.” He said to Steve, barely sparing him a glance until Steve caught his arm before he turned away.

“We’ve got a problem.” He said, low and close to Eddie’s ear, his eyes serious.

“What now?”

The crash of thunder above answered him and Steve’s grip on his arm tightened, pulling him close.

Eddie turned his head, intending to ask again when he came to the swift and sudden realisation that that wasn’t thunder that he had heard.

An honest to god fireball descended from the sky, caving in the roof of the building across the courtyard, spitting out flame and burning rock in all directions, like something out of mediaeval legend. 

Or ancient text.

Eddie was yanked back, dragged inside the building he had just left as people around them began to panic, running and screaming. 

As more fireballs fell, some unfortunate souls were caught in the crossfire, crying out in agony and Eddie was horrified. 

Steve dragged him towards the stairs and there they huddled together, another agonised, almost otherworldly scream coming from upstairs, but no sooner had they turned their heads to look up than they were nearly bowled over by Tommy of all people, sprinting away from whatever or whoever had screamed.

Steve pulled one of his guns free and not for the first time Eddie pouted after him, thinking it was high time he got a gun of his own. Seeing as insane situations like this were rapidly becoming commonplace.

He followed close at Steve’s back as they both took the stairs one at a time, bursting through the door to the room the scream had come from. 

Eddie was stupefied.

There was a mummy sitting on a chair in the room, propped up like some kind of macabre display.

How on earth had a mummy been smuggled into the building. 

And why?

It was only as they crept closer and Eddie kept looking that he finally took note of the clothes this mummy was wearing. 

What room they were in.

They were Fred’s clothes and this was Fred’s room.

What the fuck?

Did… was… did someone dress an ancient mummy up in Freds clothes for some reason?

But that didn’t make any sense either.

The eyes of the mummy were missing. 

That wasn’t unusual, in fact it was expected. 

But they hadn’t been replaced with false eyes.

There were no linens, no incisions on the body, the organs must all still be inside. 

The tongue was missing.

There was still hair on his head. 

Glasses on his face.

That… that couldn’t be… 

There was no way.

It was like the very essence of him had been sucked out.

How… how did something like this happen?

More to the point, Eddie thought to himself as a figure of sand and bone and rotting flesh writhed in front of the fireplace, slowly bolstering and refilling himself with what must be Fred’s stolen life, how did he get here?!

“God, we are so fucked.” Steve said, cocking his revolvers and taking several shots at the walking corpse that they now knew was Vecna as he approached, still half decayed but with a more solid layer of skin now on his bones, Fred’s eyes and Fred’s tongue visible in his head.

The bullets landing in his ancient body did nothing to halt his steps and with one outstretched hand, Steve was lifted from the floor and thrown backwards, crashing into Robin and the Cowboys who had just burst through the door.

Eddie stumbled back in shock as Vecna turned his stolen eyes on him and kept stepping, backing away until he couldn’t go any further.

“You saved me from everlasting death. I thank you.”

Eddie scrunched his face up, trying not to vomit at the smell and let out a nervous giggle. “Honest mistake.” He said, pressing himself flat against the wall as Vecna lifted his hand.

Vecna’s face was all he could see now, he was pressing in so close and Eddie had the wild and sickening thought that he was about to be kissed by a corpse when the discordant keys of the piano in the corner of the room reached their ears.

Vecna turned and screeched, horrified. Asmodeus hissed at the mummy from the piano, angry and protective. Eddie didn’t know how she’d found her way from Eddie’s apartments into Fred’s but he didn’t really care about the how right now.

Asmodeus yowled at him, ear piercingly loud and with her back up, her tail puffing to twice its size, her fangs bared and ears back.

Vecna screeched once again before, with a turn of his body, he dissolved into sand, flying out of the open window in a thick cloud.

“We are so very fucked.” Steve declared after a moment of silence to the room at large, pushing himself to his feet. “Think your mummy might have a crush on you.”

“Oh god, don’t start with that again.”

Steve shrugged. “Hey, maybe now you can go on your date.”

“Fuck off.” Eddie huffed. “I am not dating the mummy. What’s gotten you so twisted up about it?”

Steve broke his eyes away, turning to inspect the open window with a shrug. “Nothing.”

Part 1/ Part 4/ Part 6/ AO3

Happy birthday @hbyrde36

My biggest thanks and much love to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Eleven

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eleven: At the Sarcophagus

Summary: (Y/N) and Steven find the Sarcophagus of Ammit's Avatar, but Harrow finds it, too.

Mouse Note: Listen...I can't say I'm sorry, but, uh, yeah.

            (Y/N) and Steven continued on their way through the new tunnel. It was a bit caved in with bits of rock fallen in their way, but nothing impeded them severely. Finally, they rounded a corner, and another chamber opened up.

            “Oh my stars,” said Steven.

            “My god,” said (Y/N).

            They stared at the room, lit by a ray of sunshine reflected off pools and trickles of water. Stepping over rocks, they approached the burial chamber of the pharaoh. Statues and murals lined the walls, and the sarcophagus itself stood on a dais in the center of the room.

            Steven stared at the artifacts. “Thutmose III. Nefertiti. It’s gotta be one of the big ones.”

            “You nearly kissed her,” said Marc, and Steven stumbled.

            “Steven?” asked (Y/N).

            “Just Marc talking,” said Steven, trying to ignore him as they continued.

            (Y/N) frowned and looked at his reflection in the water. They wished they could still hear Marc. It was lonelier without him. They wished they could be with Layla, Steven, and Marc all together again.

            “I should try to drown you or punch you again,” said Marc. “But you also told her the truth about why I’ve been pushing her away. And that was unexpected. And you protected (Y/N).” So he wouldn’t try to hit Steven.

            “Are these Macedonian?” said (Y/N), unknowingly interrupting the conversation. They knelt by the relics and murals. “I can’t remember these symbols or translate them, but these are Macedonian, aren’t they?”

            Steven knelt next to them. “No way. That’s impossible. Only one pharaoh…But he called himself Egyptian.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. “No way. No way. Is this really…?”

            “I think we’re looking at the long-lost tomb of Alexander the Great,” breathed Steven, giddy and reverent all at once.

            (Y/N) stared at it. “…Oh god. We have to open the sarcophagus.” It felt wrong to disturb the tomb, but this was Ammit’s tomb. Alexander the Great had been her Avatar. She needed to be stopped. Harrow needed to be stopped.

            “That just feels wrong,” groaned Steven. “Everything inside of me is screaming not to open this thing.”

            “You want Harrow to get to Ammit first?” said Marc.

            “Of course I don’t want him to get to Ammit,” said Steven.

            “Marc again?” said (Y/N).

            “Yeah,” said Steven. He looked at (Y/N). “Ready?”

            “As I’ll ever be,” said (Y/N).

            Steven nodded. Together, they put their hands on the lid of the sarcophagus and pushed. It was tough going, but they managed to shit the top end of the lid off enough so that they could see the mummy within. This was the Alexander the Great. In the flesh (literally, since he was a mummy).

            “Where’s the ushabti?” said Marc.

            “He’s not holding the ushabti,” said (Y/N) at the same moment, frowning.

            Steven nearly smiled at the coincidence and answered both at once. “If you’re gonna hide it for all eternity, you’d probably put it in a place where the average looter wouldn’t think to look.”

            (Y/N) coughed and pulled up their sleeves. “Um, I think I know where.”

            “Where?” said Steven and Marc at the same time, though (Y/N) could only hear one.

            “It’s the voice symbolism again,” said (Y/N), grimacing and gesturing to the wrapped head and throat of Alexander the Great.

            “Oh. Oh, gross,” said Steven.

            (Y/N) steeled themself, reached out, and pulled away the wrappings around Alexander the Great’s face. “I am so sorry,” they muttered to the mummy and the memory of their parents. They shouldn’t be disturbing a resting place like this. But it needed to be done.

            “Oh…” Steven grimaced as (Y/N) slipped their hand into Alexander the Great’s mouth and reached into his throat.

            Forcing themself not to retch, (Y/N) felt a wave of relief as they felt a stone sculpture. Grabbing it, they pulled it out. The sunlight illuminated the return of Ammit’s ushabti to the world.

            “We found it,” breathed Steven.

            “Good job, kid,” said Marc, unable to hold back the pride. He deflated as he remembered (Y/N) couldn’t hear him now.

            (Y/N) nodded and smiled at Steven in relief.

            Footsteps approached, and they tensed, whirling toward the passage. They relaxed as they saw it was Layla. She had made it.

            “Layla, look!” said Steven proudly, gesturing to the ushabti in (Y/N)’s hands. “We won!” He laughed.

            (Y/N) frowned. Layla’s eyes were narrowed, and her body was tense as she came closer. Something was off.

            “(Y/N) had to reach down Alexander the Great’s throat, but we found it,” said Steven. He frowned as he finally saw Layla’s furious gaze. “You alright, love?”

            “Can he hear me?” she snapped.

            “Alexander? No, I don’t think so. God, I hope not,” chuckled Steven, trying to keep the good energy going.

            Layla kept going. “What happened to my father?”

            (Y/N) frowned and flinched. They didn’t like the feeling that was appearing in the room. Everything had been going fine. And now, now, something was wrong. (Y/N) stepped back.

            Layla walked up to Steven. “I’m talking to you.”

            “What?” asked Steven.

            “I’m talking to you, Marc,” snapped Layla, trying to get him to come out and speak to her.

            Steven frowned, his eyes rolled up, and when Layla had him looking at her again, it was Marc staring out. He had gotten control of the body.

            “Come on, come on, let’s go,” said Marc, trying to take control of the situation and avoid the conversation. He took (Y/N)’s arm and Layla’s hand, but Layla pulled back.

            “No,” she said forcefully.

            “We need to go right now,” said Marc.

            “What’s going on?” said (Y/N), pulling the end of their sleeves.

            “Marc, no. No,” repeated Layla, refusing to go with him. “What happened to my father?!”

            “Listen to me. We need to leave right now,” said Marc. “I will explain everything, I swear. But we have to go.”

            “He’s telling the truth,” said (Y/N), trying to help but unsure of themself.

            “No, I want to know now,” said Layla. She glared at Marc. “Did you kill Abdullah El Faouly?!”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and their gaze snapped to Marc. Their chest constricted as the terrible question was left in the air.

            “Of course not. Of course I didn’t!” said Marc.

            “He’s…He’s telling the truth,” said (Y/N). “He didn’t kill him, Layla.”

            “But he was there,” said Layla, seeing that Marc was evading the whole truth. “Weren’t you?”

            “Marc?” asked (Y/N), looking at him.

             “I—” Marc couldn’t answer. Lying was impossible, but the truth was painful. It would destroy everything he’d built with Layla and whatever had started to grow between (Y/N) and Marc.

            “Yeah, you were there,” said Layla. She could read him clearly.

            Marc swallowed. Softly, he admitted the terrible truth. “I was there. Yeah. I was there.”

            “Yeah. And how did he die?” snapped Layla.

            (Y/N) covered their mouth and stepped back. “The mercenaries and the archaeologists.” What Fitzgerald and Kennedy had said in the car.

            “Kid—” Marc reached out to them, but he let his hand drop. “I—My partner got greedy.” He spoke quietly, tiredly, as everything he’d never wanted to admit forced itself to the surface and destroyed what he’d built. “He executed everyone at the dig site. I tried to save your father, Layla, but I couldn’t. And I—”

            Layla glared at him. “No. But you brought a killer right to him. Right?” She shoved him back, and Marc just took it.

            He nodded helplessly, willing to take any abuse to make up for the terrible things he’d done. “Yeah. He shot me, too. I was supposed to die that night. But I didn’t die that night. And I should have.” Marc gazed at Layla with so much emotion as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’ve tried to tell you since the moment we met. But I just didn’t know how.”

            Layla sobbed. Then, she froze. “Oh my god.”

            “I’m sorry,” said Marc.

            Layla turned on him. “That’s the reason we met.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they clutched the ushabti tightly.

            “You just had a guilty conscience?” said Layla incredulously, and the way Marc stared back at her was answer enough.

            “Layla—”

            The sound of a rolling stone broke through the moment, and they all turned towards the passageway. The rustle of footsteps grew louder.

            “They’re here,” said Marc in alarm.

            “There must be another way out,” said Layla, wanting to stay alive to keep being angry.

            “Okay, go, find it. Take (Y/N). I’ll hold them off,” said Marc, grabbing an ornamental axe from the sarcophagus.

            At the same time, (Y/N) took their moment to go with Layla to stuff the ushabti into the backpack to hide it from sight. The moment that Layla darted to grab (Y/N), though, Harrow and his numerous armed men stepped into the room. Layla had to hide behind a column, and as (Y/N) tried to scramble back, a guard that had snuck around the side grabbed them. (Y/N) yelped. Marc’s eyes widened, and he took a step towards (Y/N) but froze as the guard held (Y/N) tightly and raised his gun. They kicked at him, but the man was stronger, and (Y/N) was stuck staring fearfully at Marc.

            “Be gentle with them. They’re just misguided,” said Harrow to the guard.

            (Y/N) and Marc’s eyes went to Harrow as he stood in the tomb with them. The scarab that had guided him there fell into his hand, the magic having done its job.

            “Just you two, isn’t it?” said Harrow. “The rest is silence.” He strolled closer. “I remember the first morning I woke up knowing that Khonshu was gone. The quiet was liberating. You’re both free. And, of course, with that freedom comes choice. And right now, you both have a very important decision to make.”

            Harrow walked towards (Y/N), and Marc tensed. He smiled at them, and (Y/N) flinched. “I know it’s been hard.” (Y/N) fought to avoid his gaze. “Being used by the gods. Pushed so far. Being so alone. But you can be alright, now.” They shook their head furiously. “You have nothing to worry about. You can let go of all the pain you feel. All the blame you feel.” He smiled kindly. “I know you think your parents’ death is your fault.” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they let out a sound akin to a whimper, a desperate plea for him to stop. “You asked for them to show you Egypt. You begged them to take you to the place they’d met, fallen in love, worked and learned. And then they died.” Harrow reached out and put a hand on (Y/N)’s head, and they winced back. “That’s alright.” He removed his hand and took theirs into his.

            Marc and Layla’s eyes widened as the cane began to swing back and forth. (Y/N)’s soul was being judged.

            “Stop it,” shouted Marc, taking a step forward, but the guns raised and pointed at him.

            (Y/N) was tempted to shut their eyes as the scales tattoo weighed back and forth. Unable to avert their eyes, though, (Y/N) watched as it settled. Their eyes widened. The scales were green. Their soul had been deemed worthy.

            Harrow smiled. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.” He took back his cane and gazed at (Y/N). They reluctantly looked up at him. “Now the choice lies before you. You have been deemed worthy. Ammit wants you on her side. You can help relieve the pain of so many. You can have a purpose.”

            (Y/N) stared at him, that word pulling at them, twisted around their heart and lungs. Their eyes flicked to Marc, staring at them with such worry that they felt their heart stir despite the pressure on it. (Y/N) looked back at Harrow evenly.

            “I will never join you or Ammit,” said (Y/N), the words as honest as could be.

            Harrow sighed. “I’m disappointed. Nonetheless, I’m afraid I can’t let you and live freely just yet.” He smiled. “We need the ritual to release Ammit.”

            (Y/N) froze, and their eyes widened. Long ago, Ma’at had taught them different rituals, bits of ancient magic that might one day be needed. One was to release the gods from ushabtis. (Y/N) hadn’t understood the significance then, nor had they questioned why Ma’at wanted them to learn it, but now that Ma’at was imprisoned, (Y/N) understood. Ma’at had known her actions in the mortal world could get her imprisoned. She had made sure the Avatar she had basically raised would be able to come and free her.

            Unfortunately, now, that meant (Y/N) could also free Ammit.

            “Leave them alone,” said Marc forcefully.

            Harrow turned to him with a smile. “After I bring Ammit to this world and allow her to create a better one, (Y/N) can live a life free of danger and worry. I just need them for a little while longer.” Harrow gestured to them. “And you could be a part of that world, too. You just need to do the right thing.”

            Marc looked at (Y/N) and then at all the armed men. He knew how to answer. He grabbed the gun of one man and dragged him closer. The man stumbled, and Marc slammed the axe onto his arm before he could shoot. He slashed at the next closest man, and then he threw the axe at Harrow.

            One of his guards stepped it front and took the blow, loyal until death. The man fell, and Harrow pulled something from the man’s belt as the guard fell. Harrow looked evenly at Marc, raised the pistol, and shot.

            Bang!

            (Y/N) screamed as Marc stumbled back, blood pooling on his white shirt.

            “Marc!” they cried, trying to pull away from the guard. “No! Marc, Steven!” They screamed for both desperately, tears burning at their eyes.

            Harrow stepped up and raised the pistol again.

            “Please, please, please, no!” shouted (Y/N).

            Bang!

            Behind the column, Layla covered her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks. (Y/N) let out another agonized scream. The second wound bled instantly, and Marc fell back. He collapsed off the dais of the sarcophagus and landed in the pool of water.

            “I can’t save anyone who won’t save themselves,” said Harrow, daring enough to be saddened.

            (Y/N) let out a sob as Marc’s body lay in the water, unmoving. He was gone. Steven was gone. The tiny bit of good and warmth and connection (Y/N) had gathered in their life had been ripped away once again.

            (Y/N) was alone.

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