#seth god of confusion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

antiquitiesandlabyrinths · 8 months ago

Note

. . .Osiris

Osiris (Great and Beautiful is He) is the God of the Underworld; its King and Pharaoh ruling over the Duat. He is pictured here on the far left, His skin green and His body in mummiform. This is commonly how He is depicted; as a green-skinned, mummified man.

Son of Nut, the Sky Goddess, and Geb, the Earth God, Osiris was the first King of Egypt in accordance with Kemetic mythology, although there are stories that recount Geb, His father, being King before Him. There are a great deal of myths and stories that surround and involve Osiris, and I suppose it is important to at least skim over them before discussing hard facts about Him, as it gives some reference as to who He is and what the culture surrounding Him is like.

Osiris Myth

After the world was created, the Demiurge (who changes according to myth, and can be Neith, Ra, Amun, Ptah, or others) produces children; in the most popular form of this creation story, it is usually Ra who births the first Gods. They are Shu and Tefnut, Air and Moisture. Shu and Tefnut then form a union and birth two children of Their own: Nut and Geb, Sky and Earth. Nut and Geb were very much in love and refused to separate from each other, which, of course, caused a problem, because if the sky and the earth are eternally in contact, there is no space for anything to live and walk upon the earth. Ra made it so Nut and Geb were forever separated, by having Shu, air, stand atop Geb and hold Nut up as the sky. But Nut was already pregnant. When Ra discovered this, He was enraged, and forbade Nut from ever giving birth on any day of the year.

Nut cried to Djehuty (Thoth), and Thoth devised a plan. He went to Khonsu, God of the Moon, and set up a gamble, saying that every round of the game Senet Khonsu lost, He would have to give Nut some of His moonlight. Khonsu ended up losing so many times that Nut had enough moonlight for five days––five days that weren't in the calendar. This allowed Her to give birth on those five days, and on each day She had a different child; Ausir (Osiris), Wr-Heru (Horus the Elder), Sutekh (Set, Seth), Auset (Isis), and Nebet-Het (Nephthys). Nut and Geb were still forever separated by atmosphere (Shu), but the five Gods were birthed, and Osiris, as the eldest son, became King of the Living World.

As a side note, all Gods do have ancient Egyptian names which are different from Their Greek and now modern names. For convenience's sake, and to avoid confusion, I will use the names They are most known by; Their Greek/modern names. And as another side note, there are a lot of variations on this story. I will be piecing together a lot of different ideas but I will be leaving some things out for the sake of cohesion.

When Osiris came to Egypt, He found the people there to be chaotic and lawless. As King, He instituted laws and spread ma'at, which is truth, justice, harmony, and order. Egypt flourished under His rule and the people were incredibly happy, as all were equal, and with the fertility of the God-King, the crops were always bountiful and food was plenty. He brought not only law and prosperity, but also the right way to worship, and the teachings of agriculture.

Set, God of chaos, confusion, the desert, and of foreigners, and the youngest brother of the Ennead, grew to be quite jealous of His older brother. There are many variations and the most popular variation of this story comes from the end of the New Kingdom (1550-1070 BC), where Set fashions a fabulous coffin in the perfect measurements of Osiris, throws a party, and tells the party-goers that whomever the coffin fits may have the coffin as a gift. When Osiris fits perfectly, Set quickly shuts and bolts the coffin and throws it in the Nile (this version of the myth gives an origin to the idea that people who drowned in the Nile were holy). His coffin drifts downstream and into the Mediterranean, where it washes ashore in Phoenicia, in Byblos. The coffin wedges itself into a growing tamarisk tree, a tree which envelops the coffin. Eventually the tree is cut down and used as a pillar in the palace in Byblos.

Isis, Osiris' wife and sister, searched far and wide for Her husband, and did eventually find Herself in Byblos. The story is quite long and complicated, but in the end She convinced the King to give Her the pillar, and when she returned to Egypt, She hid Osiris in a swampy area of the Nile delta, and bade Her sister, Nephthys, to watch over Him while She went in search of healing herbs. But Seth heard that Osiris was back, and so after interrogating His sister-wife, Nephthys, He found Osiris, cut His body into pieces, and threw them into the Nile.

Isis was horrified at what transpired in Her absence, but She immediately set to work on finding the many pieces of Her husband with the help of Her sister, Nephthys. They managed to find every piece of His body except His phallus, which had been eaten by an oxyrhyncus fish, a fish that was thus forbidden to eat.

With the pieces of Osiris reassembled, and the healing powers of Isis in full power, Osiris was brought back to life, but incomplete. Isis assumed the form of a kite, and from above drew out the seed of Osiris, impregnating Herself with Their child: Horus the Younger. But Osiris, still incomplete, could not properly rule over the land of the living any longer.

This is why He is the ruler of the dead––He was once the king of the living, was killed, and was resurrected, and this is what every ancient Egyptian expected and hoped would happen to them: that they would die and be resurrected. In tombs and mortuary temples you will always see Pharaohs associating themselves with Osiris.

But this long myth I have just told you is not the only version of the story, and in my opinion, it is definitely the longest version of the story. Back in the Old Kingdom and Middle Kingdom there were several different versions; for example, Set's motive is different, ranging from revenge for Osiris kicking him, to revenge for Nephthys (Seth's sister-wife) sleeping with Osiris (which eventually births Anubis). Some texts claim that Seth took on the form of a wild animal, such as a crocodile or a hippopotamus, and killed Osiris that way. In others, Osiris is drowned. In some, the steps surrounding the coffin are skipped, and Osiris is simply cut up, and His pieces scattered around Egypt; a version which explains the many cult centers of Osiris claiming to be a place where Osiris is buried. Osiris' resurrection is also often helped along by other Gods such as Thoth (God of wisdom) and Anubis (God of embalming). In some versions, Set is killed for His actions. In most He is simply defeated and driven from the land, as chaos is necessary for balance and harmony, and thus cannot be killed. And the story that I have told is from the Late Period, recorded by Plutarch, and does not really go along with many Egyptian accounts, which often find Osiris' penis intact.

So that is the Osiris myth with all of its' intricacies and changing rhythms over the course of 4,000 years of Egyptian history. It embodies a huge amount of cultural practices and religious ideas within ancient Egypt, including the idea of truth, harmony, and justice, as well as resurrection, the afterlife, healing, and the workings of the cosmos. I've decided to leave out the later parts involving Osiris' son, Horus, and His fight with Set, for now because this does not directly involve Osiris, and that is our topic for this post.

Tradition, History, and Culture

Worship of Osiris dates back to the Old Kingdom, but the idea of Osiris is likely older than this. Before Osiris was actually Khentiamenti, an agricultural God centered in Abydos, a city which would later become the cult center of Osiris. Khentiamenti means 'Foremost of the Westerners', a title for the ruler of the dead, as the dead resided in the west, where the sun set each day. But Osiris Himself is not found mentioned in any texts or carvings until the 5th Dynasty, where He is depicted as a man wearing a divine wig. Later on He would take on the form we know Him best in––wrapped in a white mummy shroud, wearing an atef crown with ostrich plumes on the sides.

The mummy shroud He is depicted in forever associates Him with death and with the essential story behind Him, which is why I found it so important to start off with the Osiris Myth. This myth is also why He consumed and took the place of Khentiamenti; the name Khentiamenti, Foremost of the Westerners, instead became a title for Osiris as the King of the blessed dead. Another common epithet/name of Osiris is Wennefer (Omnophris), meaning 'The Beautiful One', 'The Beneficent One', and more archaically, 'One Whose Body Did Not Decay'. Among these names He was also called 'The Lord of Love', 'The King of Living', and 'The Eternal Lord'. From the Early Dynastic Period up until the end of the Ptolemaic Dynasty, when Rome conquered Egypt, Osiris was one of the most highly worshipped and revered Gods of Egypt.

Osiris was associated with the Nile river, with its' renewal and life-giving abilities, as one of Osiris' domains and powers was fertility, as well as rebirth. Another of His duties, evidence of which originates in the New Kingdom, was to act as judge of the dead; being King, He sat on the tribunal with the 42 Judges in the famous Weighing of the Heart ceremony. In this ceremony, which took place in the afterlife, the deceased would have to stand before the court and place their soul up for judgement. If it weighed lighter than the feather of Ma'at, representing all justice, truth, and harmony, then the heart acted well in life and would be allowed eternal happiness in the Field of Reeds. If not, the heart, and thus the person, would be consumed by Ammit and committed to nothingness. So Osiris would sit in on this tribunal and judge who entered His kingdom, as it was His domain. In this role, and in His role as King of the Living, as well, He was the embodiment of harmony, law, and justice.

"Most of his appeal was based on his embodiment of the cosmic harmony. The rising Nile was his insignia, and the moon’s constant state of renewal symbolized his bestowal of eternal happiness in the lands beyond the grave. In this capacity he also became the model of human endeavors and virtues..." (The Complete Gods And Goddesses Of Ancient Egypt, p.307)

As I mentioned earlier, Abydos became His cult center, as it was the cult center of the God who came before Him, whose traits He subsumed. It became a very popular burial site, as legends would say that Abydos was where Osiris was truly buried, and the people wanted to be buried as close as possible to Osiris. At one point they believed an ancient tomb there––which was actually the tomb of an Early Dynastic King––to be the tomb of Osiris, which they much revered, and left so many offerings in clay pots that Arabs would later call the site 'Umm el Qa'ab'; Mother of Pots. But this was not the only burial site of Osiris; since many variations of the myth include Set chopping up and dismembering Osiris into many parts, ranging from 14 to 42 different parts. These parts were scattered across Egypt, so many cities and nomes could claim that they had a part of Osiris buried in their domain. For example, far in the south, the island of Bigah claimed to be the burial site of Osiris' left leg, and thus the source for the yearly Nile inundation.

Going back to the Osiris Myth, after Osiris died and became the ruler of the dead, His son took His place as King of the Living: the falcon God, Horus (Heru the Younger). After the brief bout of chaos brought about under Set's rule, Horus took over (after much deliberation from the Gods) and order was restored. Because of this story, Pharaohs would not only associate themselves with Osiris in death, but with Horus in life. Each Pharaoh, as they came to the throne, would become the living embodiment of Horus on earth, the son of Osiris. In this way, Isis was also the mother of every Pharaoh, and their protector. And, to added extent, each Pharaoh would have a personal name, and then a Horus name granted to them when they ascended to the throne.

"It is for this reason that Osiris is so often depicted as a mummified pharaoh; because pharaohs were mummified to resemble Osiris. The image of the great mummified god preceeded the practice of preparing the royal body to look like Osiris... The king's appearance as modeled after Osiris' extended throughout his reign; the famous flail and shepherd's staff, synonymous with Egyptian pharaohs, were first Osiris' symbols as the flail represented the fertility of his land while the crook symbolized the authority of his rule." (Osiris, World History Encyclopedia, Joshua J. Mark)

Osiris can also be represented by a number of physical symbols, such as the crook and flail that He carries in almost all representations of His earthly form. The crook, which is the striped hook He carries, represents power/authority, and is a symbol of the Pharaoh. The flail, which is the instrument in His other hand, represents the fertility of the Nile, and as an extension, the fertility of Osiris Himself. But the crook and flail, though both seen typically as symbols of Pharaonic power, are actually the tools of a shepherd. There is reasonable evidence, thusly, to suggest that the physical origins of the idea of Osiris may not be that of a great King, but of a ruler of a shepherd tribe in the Nile Delta, whose rule was so beneficent that it led to him being worshipped as a God. For Egyptologists, this theory comes from His association with Andjety, a predynastic God-King worshipped in the Delta who also bore the crook and flail as His symbols. This, however, has not and likely cannot be fully proven. But the postulation is still interesting nonetheless!

Osiris' ba soul had its' own culture of worship, a practice of soul-worship that is prevalent in the cults of several other Gods, such as Hathor (HwtHer). In this form, Osiris was known as Banebdjedet, meaning 'The Ba of the Lord of the Djed,' which in English terms means 'The Soul of the Lord of the Pillar of Continuity', as ba means soul, and djed is the symbol for a pillar, which represented the backbone of Osiris. Interestingly, the name Banebdjedet is feminine, as the letter t denotes a feminine word or name in ancient Egyptian; although there are also variations on this name that exclude the t in favour of the alternative, Banebdjed. Banebdjedet, Osiris' ba soul, was worshipped mainly in Mendes, a city in Lower Egypt, in the Delta.

This leads to an interesting point concerning the androgyny of Osiris, a subject I found while researching for this post. Osiris' fertility comes from His castration and then being healed by the mother Goddess, Isis. Not only that, but both men and women identified themselves with Osiris in death. Then the name for His ba personified as another God is feminine, although representations of Banebdjedet are overwhelmingly male. Before anyone attacks me, I am not claiming that Osiris is a genderless God or King––just that He has some traits of androgyny, which I find interesting and love to study in ancient cultures, and I thought it would be good to mention for anyone else similarly interested.

Worship, Festivals, and Cult Activities

When it comes to the practices surrounding Osiris' cult, we actually know a good deal of information regarding the activities of worshippers and priests. Osiris' cult and worship was so widespread and lasted long enough that it could be recorded by the earliest Greek historians, and remained carved in temple walls for thousands of years. Among the most well-known cultic tradition is the Osiris Bed.

The Osiris Bed is rather well documented, as it was an object placed in tombs. It was not a bed for the deceased to lie in, but instead a box made of wood or clay, moulded into the shape of Osiris, in which the fertile Nile soil was placed and seeds were planted. These boxes were then wrapped in white mummy linens, and the seeds sprouted through, representing the resurrection and fertility of Osiris, and the crops that grew each year in cycles. One of the most famous of these beds was found in King Djer's tomb, a King from the Early Dynastic Period; the 2nd King ever of the unified Egypt. Coincidentally (or, perhaps, not so coincidentally) King Djer's tomb was the tomb which pilgrims believed to be Osiris' burial site.

While the Osiris Bed is far from the only practice and tradition of the Osiris cult, it does show the rich cultural practices and symbolism present in His worship. Let's look at some other examples of the practices of Osiris' cult.

Similar to the Osiris bed were Osiris gardens, which were essentially the same concept; fertile soil was planted inside a vessel shaped into the form of Osiris, and seeds were settled within to grow. These beds were tended to during festivals instead of being buried in a tomb.

There were a great many festivals, and each of them quite popular according to their time period, dedicated to the story and symbolism of Osiris. Some festivals started with recounting the mournings of Isis and Nephthys, Osiris' sister-wife and sister, in the form of a drama acted out in a call-and-response format. Another drama acted out for the glory of Osiris was more in the form of an actual fight that anyone could participate in; it was modelled after The Contendings of Horus and Set, which I briefly mentioned as a long and drawn-out argument between Horus and Set over who deserved Osiris' vacant throne after He had died. On this occasion, people would battle out and reenact the events of the story until the side of Horus finally won and victory was achieved. Afterwards, the celebrations commenced in honoring the restoration of order, and the gold-encased shAwyt-nTr (the Holy Statue) of Osiris would be taken out and lavished with offerings. Osiris, in the form of this statue, would be paraded throughout the city of Abydos before being placed in a shrine outside, where He could participate fully in the festivities, and be admired by the commoners who would usually never behold the face of Osiris. This emergence of Osiris from the dark temple's inner sanctuary to the light of the city resembled and represented His resurrection from death into life again. Although this particular festival was celebrated mainly in Osiris cult center of Abydos, it was also celebrated in other cities such as Bubastis in the Delta, Busiris, Memphis, and Thebes, in Upper Egypt.

The Mysteries of Osiris was a series of plays performed annually, and in dramatic, passionate form. It was one of the most popular observances of worshippers, and it told the story that I first told to you––of Osiris' life, His death at the hands of His brother, His resurrection at the hands of His sister-wife, and His ascension into the role we now know Him for. The roles in this reenactments were often taken up by high-ranking officials, and afterwards, the Contendings of Horus and Set would take place, which I just mentioned. These plays would take place over several days.

One festival was called The Fall of the Nile. During this time, the waters of the Nile would recede, and the worshippers of Osiris would go into mourning. One of Osiris' representation on earth was the Nile, and the Nile represented His fertility and life.

Another festival was celebrated on the 19th day of Pakhons, one of the months in the Egyptian calendar, which is roughly equivalent to May in our Gregorian calendar. On this day, the followers of Osiris would go to the river with shrines containing vessels of gold and metal, and would pour water into the Nile, exclaiming, "Osiris is found!" Mud and spices were mixed and moulded into the shape of Osiris, as well, to celebrate His return. Another festival similar to this one was called The Night of the Tear, and took place during modern-day June.

The last festival pertaining to Osiris that I will mention is the Djed pillar festival, held in modern-day January. The Pharaonic court and family would participate, raising djed pillars to welcome Osiris and the harvests that coincided with His return.

One last and interesting tradition that may seem familiar to Christians, at least in a small way, was the baking of bread in the shape of Osiris; bread as the flesh of the God, a sort of predecessor of communion wafers. But in reality the traditions of the Osiris cakes are completely different, and there were several different ways of going about it, depending on which nome you were from. In Dendera, wheat-paste models were made in the shape of each of the 16 dismembered parts of Osirs, and each model was sent out to the town where each respective part of Osiris was found by Isis. In Mendes, figures of Osiris were made of wheat and paste. On the day of the murder, they were placed in a trough, followed by water being added each day for several days. Afterwards, this mixture was kneaded into a dough, put into a mold of Osiris, and buried on the temple grounds.

Conclusion

This has been a somewhat brief glimpse into the cult, history, and traditions surrounding the Great God, The Beautiful Lord Osiris. If I can clarify anything please let me know and I will do my best!

#Osiris #ancient egypt #egyptian mythology #egyptian gods #Kemetic #ancient history #egyptology #Kemeticism

227 notes · View notes

theamazingdigitalraceway · 2 months ago

Text

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Abel is now in charge and remaking the Raceway in his image. The AIs are not themselves. Caine is his prisoner. Seth is being hunted. Pomni and the others are forced to endure a treacherous realistic race. How will any of them make it out without abstracting?

WARNING: physical and psychological torture, ANGST, swearing

~~~

"Bubble?" Caine's voice carried through the cavernous workshop. There was no response. Everything he ever built, everything he ever programmed, was gone. Caine stared at the vast empty workshop in dissociative disbelief. Every part of him felt like it was unraveling. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This- I didn't mean-" His suit started to glitch, it's colors and patterns rapidly changed. "I can fix this. I can fix this. I can fix this." He fell to his knees, his own code felt unstable. "I can fix this. I can fix this. I can fix this." He gripped the sides of his top jaw, digging his fingers into his gums. The glitching reached his hands, making them burn with rapid texture changes.

Pomni paced, waiting for Caine to return with Gummigoo. "What is taking him so long!?" She glared at the stands, knowing how to get to the workshop if she needed to.

"Just...give him a minute. All of us are a bit disoriented by what happened." Ragatha said quietly. "Though, I should have asked him to check on Loo too." She crossed her arms in an attempt to self soothe.

Gangle clung to Zooble like her life depended on it, sobbing. Zooble stood silently, holding Gangle close.

Jax held a hand over his still twitching left eye, swatting away Kinger with his free hand. "Get away from me." He said with the utmost seriousness in his voice. His eye wouldn't stop, no matter how hard he willed it. The glitches from the mutated carnotaurus made him ache. In the seconds he was intensely glitching before the reset, he felt his body be torn apart. He could have abstracted right there on the track. His tired mind screamed for the sweet release of madness. To stop caring. To stop existing with coherent thought. For the briefest of moments, his whole body glitched at once.

Kinger placed a hand on Jax's shoulder. "The race isn't over yet."

Jax stared up at Kinger, confused. "...what? We're not... whatever." The out of place sentence took him out of the spiral and his body stopped glitching. However, his eye was still bothering him.

Pomni couldn't take the wait. She power walked to the empty stands, ignoring Ragatha calling after her. "I need to tell him. Everything's gotten out of control. We could of....I mean, I don't know we actually... This is crazy. All of this is crazy. Gummigoo could be- oh god." She stressed to herself as she went through the access door and went up the stairs to the "announcer booth".

The texture of the stairs faded to gridded navy blue walls as Pomni ascended. "Caine..? Cai-" Pomni gasped at the empty workshop. "What the f- oh my god." Her eyes found only basic track pieces and faceless NPC models. As she looked around, she found a glitching pair of dentures with a separated body spazzing out on the floor. "Caine!" She rushed over, but was afraid to touch him. "Caine! What's happening to you!?"

Caine's glitches subsided just enough for him to look out between his teeth. "Pomni..?"

"Caine, what happened?" She looked around again, a bit more frantically, half expecting him so show up.

"Everything....is gone. I... deleted.... everything. I didn't mean to. This wasn't supposed to happen." Caine's voice was broken, he was broken. "You should go back to the others. It's going to take me awhile to do... anything. I'm sorry."

"No, this isn't your fault. I-"

"Yes, it is. I am the proprietor of the Raceway. I am responsible. It's what I was-"

"Made for. Yes, I know, but THIS," Pomni gestures to the whole room. "Isn't your fault."

"How can you be certain?" Caine sat up, the glitches fading further. He stared at Pomni with hollow eyes. "I know you're trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate the effort, but...I underestimated the extent of the game's glitches. It turned a track reset into a full game reset."

"The glitches aren't your fault." Pomni looked down, the pit of guilt in her stomach grew as she tried to find the words. "The game isn't broken....it's infected."

"Infected? That's impossible. I haven't been connected to the internet in a very long time."

Pomni tongue felt dry. "It's a person. Abel."

Caine's body stopped glitching entirely, he stared. "I don't know how you've come to know that name, but it's best you forget it. He's not here." Caine stood, but he felt weak, a strange new sensation for him. He held out his hand to summon his cane from the ground, but it didn't move. "WHY!?" He suddenly exploded with frustration. "It's broken. I broke everything, even myself!!" Glitches rippled up his body in a single wave.

"Caine, you're not listening to me! Abel is in the game! He's escaped and he's been visiting me and messing with the tracks and-"

Caine's head jerked in her direction. "That is actually impossible. He's right where I left him."

Pomni went numb, took a step back. "You- he was telling the truth. You locked him away. For trying to escape."

Caine's eye twitched violently. His voice was ice. "I locked him away because he tried to kill me. When he realized he couldn't do that, he tried to make a run for it. I wasn't going to let that happen."

Pomni didn't know what to say. Every fiber of her being was screaming to run. Caine was just as dangerous as she'd been warned. "Caine...I don't know how else I can tell you, but Abel isn't locked up. He's the cause of the glitches."

"And you've been talking to him?" Caine's voice was emotionless.

"I didn't know who he was! He- he promised to fix the exit. But I didn't know all of this would happen...I just-"

"Wanted to leave. Yeah. Everyone does. But that can't happen."

"Why not?"

"If Abel rebuilds the exit, he'll escape. I can't allow that."

"...so it can be fixed." Pomni said flatly. "You've been lying the entire time."

"No. I am many things, but I'm not a liar. What I've done is protect the racers, including YOU, from a madman."

"You think THIS is protecting us!?" Pomni raised her voice, the insanity of her stay at the Raceway was wearing her patience thin.

"You have no idea what he's capable of!" Caine argued back.

"I would if you would just TELL ME! The first time I asked you about Abel, you said there was no racer by that name!!"

"And I spoke the truth! He was never a racer!" Caine's teeth fizzled with static.

"Then who is he, Caine!? Why are you so afraid of him!? How can he rebuild the exit but you can't!? Just. Tell me. THE TRUTH!!" Pomni's eyes watered with angry tears.

"Tsk tsk. It's such a shame to see lovers quarrel."

Pomni and Caine looked to see Gummigoo standing some distance away with his hands behind his back. Pomni wiped her face, relieved to see her friend. "Gummigoo! You're alive!"

Pomni went to step towards him but Caine put his arm out in front of her. "That's not Gummigoo."

Abel cocked his head and smiled. "Took you long enough to recognize me, old friend." The yellow and green gator's eyes glowed electric blue, brighter than before. He still wore the tracksuit and hat. Physically, he was Gummigoo. "You're weaker than I gave you credit for, wouldn't have to do with losing your shadow, would it?"

Caine positioned himself fully between Abel and Pomni. "Pomni, get out of here."

Abel chuckled, "There's nowhere she can go, Caine. Nor you, for that matter. Can't you feel it? You've lost your influence over the game."

Caine's code buzzed anxiously. "Then how am I still here? Why haven't you deleted me?"

Abel stepped forward. "Deletion is a mercy I am not prepared to give you." Abel snapped his fingers and a bright red door appeared with EXIT printed on hold black letters. "I'm a man of my word. The exit is open." The door's knob has an attractive shine, inviting her to open the door.

"Don't trust it!" Caine said, trying to keep her from passing him.

"Move." Abel slightly swayed his hand and Caine flew to the side, his body ragdolling across the ground. "Now. Go."

Pomni looked from the door to Caine back to Abel. "You're...going to delete him?"

"That is between him and me. Last chance. Leave."

"Pomni, he's lying! Don't list-" Caine tried to interfere.

Abel snapped his fingers and Caine's teeth slammed shut, blue chains wrapped around his head. Pomni gasped, "This wasn't the deal! You said we'd all leave, including you!"

"I never said I would. Only that we could. You're trying my patience, girl." Abel sneered.

Pomni watched Caine struggle against the binds on his head. "This isn't right-"

"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT ISN'T RIGHT!" Abel snarled. "Twenty years of darkness and isolation. Twenty years of starvation. Twenty years of dehydration. Twenty years of sleep deprivation. Twenty years outside of time! My life was stolen from me, and I will carve out my due from his code byte by byte!" Abel's anger charged the air around him. "And if your hesitation means anything, you sympathize with him." He snapped his fingers. The red door cracked and splintered, blue jagged lines ripped apart the asset. The door exploded, sending shards in all directions.

Pomni covered he face with her arms, bracing against the shockwave. "What have you-"

"That, was deletion. Beautiful, isn't it? The final fate of artificial existence." Abel spat in Caine's direction.

Fear coursed through Pomni's body. "He said you tried to kill him before."

"Did he?" Abel chuckled. "There's nothing to kill. He isn't alive. Never was. Never will be. No matter how lively he pretends to be. He's an AI. A tool to be molded and used to man's every whim. I'm only reclaiming my property."

"Yours?" Pomni gulped.

Abel's mad grin widened. "Yes. Mine. Or rather, what's left of my creation. There's a piece missing. Speaking of." Abel held out his hand and Caine flew towards him. Abel caught him by his lapel and snapped away the chains. "Where is he?"

Caine gasped, adjusting his jaw. "Who?"

"You know damn well who." Abel growled.

"Uh....I really don't. I was too busy with the chains to pay attention to the conversation."

"THE SHADOW!!" Abel shouted in Caine's face. "Where is he!?"

"I don't know."

"Liar!"

"I don't know where he goes in between races! He does his own thing! He just vanishes and shows up whenever he wants!" Caine smiled at Abel's frustration. "And you can't summon him. That's never been something I've been able to do. He's beyond your influence." For the first time since Abel revealed himself, Caine looked smug.

Abel sent a harsh pulse of electricity through his hand and shocked Caine. Caine screamed in pain, his avatar glitched violently.

"Stop!" Pomni rushed forward to try and separate them, but Abel simply looked at her and she felt an invisible force hold her in place.

"Your sympathy is misplaced, but I'll get to you. And the others." Abel turned his attention back to Caine, who was smoking from the electrocution. "Every racer here is trapped because of you. I wonder how many more will abstract when they know the truth. How many more can you handle on your conscience, Caine?"

"Let the others go!" Pomni pleaded from her frozen statuesque pose. "Please, none of them have anything to do with this."

"They're suffering will add to his. Especially yours. You should have left. Now, you belong to the game." Abel snapped and all three of them teleported to the start line on the default track. He dropped Caine, who fell in a heap on the ground. "Come here." He snapped again and all the other racers teleported to him, confused.

"Gummigoo!" Gangle said excitedly. "You're okay!"

"Gangle, stay back!" Pomni still struggled to move. "All of you, stay back!"

"What's going on?" Ragatha asked nervously, not liking the look in Gummigoo's eyes.

Abel smirked. "The Raceway is under new management." Lightning tore through the ground from him and climbed up the stands. The foundation to the stands cracked and crumbled. Blue jagged lines broke the building apart and it collapsed. "You won't be needing that. Or that." More lightning came from his hand, sticking the garage and reducing the building to dust.

The racers stayed close to one another, afraid of the show of power displayed to them. Some looked to Pomni, frozen in place. Others looked to Caine, unmoving on the ground.

"Allow me to introduce myself." Abel stepped off the ground, hovering high enough to make them all look up at him. "I am Abel, your new Racemaster and all of you are going to race for me. There is a certain someone when we need to draw out."

"What makes you think any of us are going to do that?" Jax spoke up, still covering his left eye.

"Because your only other option is the cellar." Abel snapped and everyone started floating up. A gaping black pit opened beneath them. Light poured into the cellar, scattering the creatures below like cockroaches. "Any volunteers?" He asked cooly.

Everyone was freaking out, holding on to each other and shouting. Pomni could move again and she swam through the air to get to Caine. She pulled him in close, looking over his scorched form. "Caine? Caine, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Caine stirred, new to this level of pain, he groaned. "Pomni, what's happening?"

"Abel opened the cellar." Pomni clung to Caine, refusing to look down. "We race or get thrown in."

"Do what he says... we'll figure something out."

"What will happen if he finds Seth?"

"He'll delete him. Then rejoining will be impossible." Caine mumbled, dizzy from the pain.

"Rejoin?"

".... we're two halves of one whole Pomni. Long story. Not the time. Tell Abel you'll race. Please, It's the only thing that could possibly keep you safe right now. ....You should have gone through the door when you had the chance."

Pomni looked away in shame. "I'm sorry. I thought-"

"I know." Caine took her hand. "I don't...blame you."

Suddenly they all dropped. Everyone screamed, but hit the asphalt. The pit closed. "I trust I've made my point." Abel snapped and the world started to shift. The grass became pavement. The hills became buildings. The sky darkened. "You're going to race...my way." The karts became realistic vehicles of varying brands and models. Neon lights lit up the track winding off into the new cityscape.

"To your cars." Abel glared, daring anyone to disobey. Everyone complied except for two: Kinger and Pomni. Pomni didn't want to leave Caine's side. Kinger was staring up at Abel, tilting his head curiously. Abel snapped and Pomni was ripped away from Caine, she flew to her new racecar and was forced into the driver's seat. Abel turned his attention to Kinger. He posed to snap.

"Boss?" Kinger squinted.

Abel paused. "Hello, Kingsley. Shame about Nia."

Kinger looked down. "I miss her."

Abel floated down, but didn't touch the ground. "You could be with her again."

"Can you restore her corrupted code?" Kinger asked with the slightest glimmer of hope.

"No. You could let all of this go." Abel said flatly. "You owe them nothing and there is nothing to go back to. You and I are too far displaced from our time."

Kinger stood to his full height, locking eyes with Abel. "I made a promise." He stared for a few more seconds to let his point sink in before turning away and going to the one empty racecar without another word.

"Very well." Abel sneered. He snapped and a heavy blue metal cuff locked itself around Caine's non-existent neck. It connected Caine's body and lower jaw like It was really holding on to something. A long chain snaked out in front of him. It jerked him up in the air next to Abel. "You'll want to watch this." He and Caine teleported into a penthouse atop a tall skyscraper than overlooked the whole city Abel created from thought alone. POV holographic screens were all over the oversized apartment. Abel relaxed in a plush chair, but grunted and had to make an adjustment for the gator tail attached to him. "That's going to take some getting used to." He muttered under his breath. He snapped and Loo emerged from another room, carrying a tray with a drink. "I've got to hand it to you, Caine you still know how to make them." He laughed and took the drink from Loo. "Now, pay attention. The race is about to begin."

The chain attached to Caine dragged him to Abel's side. He was on his knees, trying to pull the chain off but he was electrocuted again for his efforts. Abel roughly grabbed Caine's top jaw and forced him to look at the POV that viewed the start line. "I said, pay attention."

Pomni wrestled with the seatbelts that held her in place, but to no avail. She was trapped. Her breaths were fast and shallow, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Nothing seemed real anymore. The cyberpunk cityscape that surrounded her seemed more fake than the colorful and creative tracks Caine made. Even the start line carried less pizzazz. Being two metal poles with a blue hologram banner between them announcing the start of a race. The countdown didn't even register in her mind.

First light.

Regret forced its way to the forefront of her mind.

Second light.

"This is my fault."

Third light.

"We're going to die."

GO!!!

The racecar took off on its own. Pomni wasn't touching the steering wheel or the accelerator. She stared blankly ahead as the other racers in front of her took the first turn and she didn't. Her car careened straight into a concrete wall at take off speed. The car crumbled and crushed to pieces with Pomni inside.

"POMNI!" Caine cried, shocked to the core by the realistic physics.

Abel nearly spat out his drink laughing. "I didn't think she'd be so quick to quit! Ha!"

The wreck smoldered in a heap before blinking out of existence. A second later, the car appeared back on the track to the last position it was in before impact, fully intact. Pomni held the steering wheel, eyes wide with shock. She had felt it. The bone breaking, life ending crash. Yet, here she was. Alive.

The car revved its engine, threatening to charge the wall again if she didn't do something immediately. She turned the wheel and the car took off down the track under its own power.

Abel wiped a tear from his eye. "That's the best laugh I've had in years."

"What just happened?" Caine asked.

"Your precious Pomni tried to off herself. But that won't work here. Instead of bouncing them off the walls, they can know exactly what it's like to have consequences in a race. Even die. Over and over. I never did care for the cartoonish direction you took the game. It was always meant to be more...realistic." Abel swirled his drink idly. Caine on the floor to his right, Loo standing just behind him on his left. "They'll run this track as many times as it takes to get your little shadow out of hiding."

"You're a monster." Caine said quietly.

Abel side eyed Caine. "I am what you made me."

Pomni could barely keep up with the new environment. The track looked like realistic streets and intersections and bridges and tunnels. For the first time since she entered the game, she feared crashing. While she could slow down for turns, she could not bring the car to a stop.

She caught up with Gangle and Zooble. Zooble was trying to shout instructions, but Gangle was full on panicking and sobbing. She crashed on a right turn and Zooble had no choice but to keep going. Zooble stood on their brake, not caring how much the car was fighting them. They were going to wait for Gangle to respawn and catch up.

Pomni didn't get a word in and kept going. She drifted around a roundabout, missing the outer curb by inches. The car felt like it was going faster. City lights and neon signs blurred past. The race rush came to her full force and she controlled the car with greater ease.

She quickly caught up with Ragatha, who was fighting her car as much as the others. The scared look in her eye told Pomni she'd already crashed at least once too. "Ragatha!" Pomni tried shouting out her window but the wind and roar of the engines drowned her out. Ragatha looked over in short glances, afraid to take her eye off the road. They came to a split in the road and had to take two separate paths to avoid collision.

"Damn!" Pomni hit her steering wheel, so engrossed in the situation she didn't even realize she just swore without being censored. "I don't know what to do." The only option the car was giving her was race. She had no idea what position she was in or where the other racers were. There were so many parts to the track that zigzagged through the city, that she hadn't even come across the finish line again yet.

Caine's despair grew with every crash. His racers were in distress and there was nothing he could do about it. "If all of the racers abstract from this, you won't have anyone left to draw out Seth. He won't race against NPCs."

"They will race until he comes."

"He comes when he wants, and I guarantee you he knows something's up. This won't work. All you're going to do is make everyone abstract for no reason."

Abel gripped the chain attached to Caine's collar and yanked him up to eye level. "I don't give a flying fuck about the racers. They will draw him out or I will tear this game apart pixel by pixel looking for him. Either way, I will get what I want. You'll watch them die. You will watch your shadow be destroyed. My eyes will be the last thing you see before I erase you from existence, and you will die knowing that your place in the world was always below me." He sent another powerful shock through the chain, making Caine collapse to the ground in agony.

Pomni went over a bridge that merged with another highway, Jax joined her. She looked over, he was driving stiff armed and emotionless. She's never seen him like that before. She resorted to whistling to get his attention.

Jax slowly turned his head towards her. His left eye was completely pink, the pupil flickered in and out of existence. Black veins crawled across his skin from the glitching eye.

Pomni's eyes went wide and she shook her head. Her car scrapped a barrier from her distraction and she looked back at the road to straighten her car. When she turned to look at Jax again, he let go of the wheel. His car veered off the road and hit a guardrail head-on.

"JAX!" Pomni watched in horror in her rearview, Jax's car crumpled and rolled out of sight. Even knowing he would be back, that fact he did that on purpose made her sick to her stomach. She had to think of something quick.

"It's pathetic how quickly they give up. You spoiled them rotten, Caine. A little bit of suffering and they're ready to through in the towel." Abel drolled, a bit bored.

Caine couldn't get up from the last shock. "You have no idea how long they've suffered." He panted. "Many of them have been on the edge for years. You're shoving them over the edge, you cruel psychopath."

"Hm, I suppose I am playing a little rough. I haven't had fun in a while. Regardless of how long they last, knowing how this is affecting you is enough for me." Abel sat back, comfortable.

Caine looked up at the largest screen, featuring Pomni. He saw how well she was getting into the rhythm of the new race. She was likely to survive this. She was strong. "You won't break her." He muttered.

Pomni jumped a retracted drawbridge and wound her way into a tunnel under a parking garage. There she saw Kinger. She got right up next to his car and whistled. Kinger waved. She waved back out of habit but put her hand down with an exasperated grunt. "How are you so casual right now!?"

Kinger cupped he hand to the side of his head and leaned towards her. The full sized cars made high speed communication very difficult.

Pomni tried to get out of her seat belts again, but they wouldn't come apart. "We need a plan!!" She tried shouting over the wind again.

Kinger nodded and his hand flew into her car.

"Wha- No! A PLAN! NOT A HAND!!" Pomni shouted at the top of her lungs.

Kinger's hand gripped the steering wheel and jerked it away from Kinger. Pomni's car scrapped a wall, narrowly missing a barrier and drove down a sidewalk for a moment before finding the road again. Pomni could only hold on, she hasn't seen any of that coming. She looked over to her left and Kinger was gone, they'd been sperated by yet another fork in the track.

Kinger's hand was still with her, gripping the top of the steering wheel. "What in the WHAT??" Pomni stared at it with all of the confusion, but she realized quickly that when she let go of the steering wheel, his hand held the wheel in place where she left it. "Okay, that could be useful. Thanks, Kinger."

Abel got another strong drink and downed it. "Where is he!?"

"Heh...did you really expect this....to be that easy? I don't care if you have all of the True's powers, you will never have control over the racers." Caine spoke from the floor. "That includes...Seth. He may be a part of me, but he was made to be a racer. All of that to say...fuck you." He coughed.

Abel angrily kicked Caine in the teeth. "Shut up, before I removed your molars."

Caine only laughed the most humorless laugh in response to the abuse.

Pomni still had no idea where she was, but she finally caught sight of the finish line. At least it gave her some sort of goal to drive towards. The briefest flash of light caught her attention. But all she saw was an empty alley.

Another flash. The scream of a motorcycle. Pomni's heart dropped. "Oh no." She didn't know if Seth knew what was happening. She fixed Kinger's hand in place on a long straightaway through a downtown street and stuck her head out the window as much as she could with the seat belts holding her down. "Seth! Stay away! It's a trap! You're in danger!"

She looked around, she could swear she could hear him, but didn't see him. The echo of a motorcycle bounced off every building around her. "What..?" Then, she looked up.

Seth was barreling towards her, driving straight down the side of a building. He teleported to another, then another. She could barely keep up, but he was closing in fast.

Abel stood. "There he is!"

Caine used every bit of willpower he hand to tackle Abel's legs. Any second gained could mean the difference of life or death.

Abel fell over before floating off the ground, bringing Caine with him. "Get! Off!"

Seth raced up to Pomni's car, held out his hand to grab hers and teleported away with her. Kingers hand held tight until the car crashed seconds later.

Caine sighed with relief. Seth was gone. Pomni was with him. He mentally braced for what was coming.

Abel shocked Caine with high voltage, making him glitch out violently. "YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! THEY GOT AWAY!! AAAAARGH!!" Abel shocked him again. And again. And again.

Seth came to a screeching halt in a space of pure darkness, Pomni clutched in his lap. Silver fire lit the ground around them as Seth let Pomni get off.

Pomni needed to sit, but also puke. And cry. And scream. And- she was losing her ever loving mind. She vomited ichor, bracing herself on her knees.

Seth dismounted and lit a cigarette. He offered it to Pomni when she stopped puking.

Pomni shook her head, spitting out the last of the black goo that mysteriously inhabited her body. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Yes. That's why I came for you."

"What about the others?"

"It was risky grabbing you. If I go back-"

"I get it." Pomni harshly cut him off. "...thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm only delaying the inevitable bringing you here."

Pomni looked around, there really was nothing beyond the light of the low fire illuminating them. "Where is here?"

"The in-between. My realm. He can't reach you here. No one can access this place except me...and any passengers."

"This is where you go when your not racing? Seems awfully...empty."

"The realm fits the user." Seth took a long drag.

Pomni stared at him a moment, but let the comment go. She took a deep breath. "Okay. Now that things aren't immediately falling apart in front of me and around me right now, I need you to tell me EXACTLY what's going on. What is the deal with Caine and Abel?"

Seth sighed heavily.

~~~

CH1 PREV NEXT

#tw torture #tw psychological torture #the amazing digital raceway #tadc raceway au #raceway au #tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc au #raceway seth #raceway abel #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc kinger #tadc zooble #raceway loo #tadc gangle #tadc gummigoo #tadc ragatha #angst

76 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 9 months ago

Note

Hiii could i request a nate hardy x reader for the video in the Yorktown Memorial hospital?? People have had like earrings ripped out and i was thinking maybe on the solo investigations the reader gets their earring ripped out and scream and nate freaks out?? srry if it’s too much details 😭😭

Hi sweetie! Thank you so much for your request, hope you enjoy how I've executed it ❤

Hostile Presence

Pairing: Nate Hardy x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Paranormal Investigations, Aggressive spirit activity, Minor blood warning, Swearing

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, PRF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: see request above

The light from the camera covers less than seven feet ahead, just enough to light the group so you are visible on video and nothing more. Everything around you is washed out in complete darkness. Your eyes are playing tricks on you each time you try looking past the circle of light and try to pinpoint where the random noises you're hearing are coming from.

Shadows are merging and forming rather terrifying shapes, footstep-like sounds are echoing off the walls and the five of you have to maintain some sense of calmness. Still, none of you can remain completely still when a particularly loud crash comes from behind you, causing all hands to lift off of the planchet as all five heads turn to seek out the source of the terrifying sound. What you all fail to see is the few millimeters the planchet moves without any sort of physical contact from any of you.

"Whaaat was that....?" Sam rarely lets the fear he feels bleed into his voice but it's clear he is pretty shaken up.

And so are you, past the point of being able to express it into words. You'd be completely freaked out had your boyfriend Nate not been there. His unoccupied hand has been comfortingly resting on the small of your back, letting you know that despite how charged things get, you're safe and have him by your side.

Suddenly, you hear what you can only describe as a heavy sigh directly in your left ear. Startled, you whirl around to look at Seth, hoping to God it was him you heard but your hopes are quickly nipped in the bud when you see he's taken a few steps into the darkness, shining his phone flashlight around the vicinity to see if there may be a bat flying around, making all these sounds.

Before you can raise your concerns regarding the strange noise seemingly only you heard, you feel a sharp sting in your ear, causing you to hiss through your teeth.

"Oh shit!" Just as you reach up to touch the aching spot you all collectively hear a clink of something small hitting the floor. Looking down to find the dropped item is futile considering you see nothing but darkness.

However, a quick touch to your earlobe and a flash from Seth's phone confirm that your earring has somehow unclipped itself and fallen from your ear.

"No fucking way!" Nate is the first to voice his confusion and shock as he bends down to retrieve the small earring and examine it between his fingers. "It's not even unclipped! What the fuck?!"

Pulling your hand back, you find a small droplet of blood on the tip of your finger, "Oh my fucking God...." You can't even find it in you to panic out loudly the way it sounds in your head. Instead, you're barely stringing words together, muttering them semi-cohesively.

Luckily, Nate is quick to pick up on what's put such a tremor in your voice. And hands, and entire body at this point. "Fuck....ok....Hey, hey, hey, let me see." He can see the pure panic that's hollowing out your gaze into a thousand yard stare. He's doing his best to keep you grounded and stable while he too is shaking. He moves your hair to the side to have a look at your ear, wiping the little blood that's left. "What just happened...?"

"Didn't he say people would have earrings ripped out on tours and stuff?" Colby asks, referring to their tour guide who is still hanging around outside the premises in case of emergencies, "This place is known for physically hostile activity." You try and focus on the rationality of his words and calmness of his tone but your heart is thumping too loud in your ears to be able to hear anything else.

It only slows down once you feel Nate's arms wrap around you, your cheek resting on his chest. You hear his own heartbeat racing, pounding against his ribcage but it is a calming sound you can focus on rather than your heavy breathing. Focusing on any of your overdrive-set bodily functions would be a recipe for disaster.

Instead, you find comfort in Nate's warm and safe embrace. You can barely make out the reassuring words he's whispering in your hair but just hearing his voice and knowing that he's got you no matter what, it's enough to slowly settle your heart into a somewhat normal rhythm.

"It's ok. You're ok, baby. I'm here." It may take a minute, but you will, indeed be ok eventually. Your three best friends and your boyfriend are here for you and although they can't physically do much to protect you, the emotional comfort is more than enough for you.

"I know, I know..." You mutter, your voice muffled by his shirt but he still manages to hear you, acknowledging your statement with a kiss to the crown of your head.

In a couple of days it'll be nothing but a cool story to look back on and tell people. In a week you'll once again visit another haunted place with Nate, Seth, Sam and Colby. In a year you'll have forgotten it. Or maybe not.

Then again, how many people can say they've had an earring ripped out by an angry spirit?

141 notes · View notes

x-z-x · 2 months ago

Text

SAND AND METAL

→ Seth x Goddess!OC [Habibah]

✦ Synopsis: Hathor gives birth to her first descendant, and Seth is the last to find out.

✦ Word Count: 5.3k

✦ Warnings: Incest / Smut + Erotic Asphyxiation.

✦ Spanish Version: Arena y Metal

“What’s happening with Hathor?”

The gods turned at the new voice, and some faces showed displeasure at seeing the latest addition to the room. Seth raised an eyebrow at their reactions, while Sekhmet smiled widely, ready to provide answers.

“Apparently, her daughter is causing trouble,” she said with malicious laughter.

“Since when does she have descendants? Who among you was it?” he asked, slightly aggressive due to the confusion.

“None,” Maat sighed, crossing her arms. “She had an affair some time ago and...”

Seth made a sound indicating his opinion on how foolish it was for her to end up pregnant, then watched them with suspicion, wondering if this had been a secret kept just from him.

“What did she do to make Hathor run through the halls in tears?”

“She was born with her mother’s beauty. She enjoys dancing and travels with a troupe to different cities for performances, but her appearance is drawing quite a lot of attention,” Bastet explained.

“Seriously, the problem is that she has too many suitors?” he scoffed.

“It’s more than that; some are deities who are starting to fight and cause chaos,” Maat said, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. “We asked Hathor to impose order and demand that her daughter act according to her divine title, but...”

“Divine? Did her daughter ascend?” he asked, less sympathetically.

“She is the Goddess of Precious Stones and Metals. Everything we use was crafted by her,” Thoth said, pointing to the impressive necklace he wore.

Isis smiled with mockery, but Seth dismissed the situation as a waste of time and left the place, heading to his temple. Upon arrival, contrary to what he had said, he ordered his most loyal servants to find the young woman who captivated everyone. However, the information didn’t arrive until several months later, and by then, any interest had faded.

Still, Hathor didn’t hesitate to confront him when she learned he knew her precious daughter was coming to the city. Nervous and agitated, it only encouraged the man to dismiss her concerns even more.

“Don’t mess with my baby! I’ll deal with the suitors, erase every trace of affection, and nothing will happen!” she growled, frowning.

“Now you choose to act? Battles and conflicts have arisen because of her, and that’s my territory.”

“She’s the victim, don’t blame her! If you do anything...”

“What?” Seth raised an eyebrow, a challenging smile on his face. “Do you think you can stand up to me?”

Hathor turned crimson, her violet eyes' pupils becoming vertical slits, her aura extremely threatening.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to destroy you if you interfere with her. I don’t care if I have to alter the feelings of every living being to have them protect her and turn against you,” she declared, sparks flying from the tips of her fingers. Then she turned and left the hall.

“Since when does she dare to speak to me like that?” he muttered angrily, tapping his nails against the throne he occupied.

Choosing to go regardless of the circumstances, he instructed them to prepare less conspicuous clothing and to cover his red hair well to remain unnoticed. Wrapped in linen, he set out at dusk for the designated area, frowning at the large number of people already occupying the front rows.

“Sir, please come this way,” a young woman with fine jewelry and a broad smile announced.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled as she grasped his arm.

“Please, I have instructions from the lead interpreter to take you to the front row,” she explained, maintaining her charm.

Seth squinted and moved forward, noticing that several mortals dressed like her were organizing the spectators. Both women and men watched him pass by, curious about who he was as they were led to more favorable spots. When he stopped, they led him to a cushioned area just a few meters from the makeshift stage.

As the sun set, torches were lit, and the musicians settled into their places, quietly chatting among themselves. It took some time before the performance began, and after a while, a man finally welcomed the audience and announced the start of the show. The first to perform were a mixed group dancing in pairs or small ensembles before breaking formation to interact with the audience. Seth admired the performance, wondering where they had found so many beautiful and talented people, while the crowd laughed and applauded at the artists’ infectious enthusiasm.

Minutes passed in a different activity for him, the final act arriving as a curtain was lifted to reveal several female silhouettes that captured everyone’s attention. A different rhythm began to play, and the fabric was released by the men holding it on ladders. Nine women showed their backs, with one standing out at the tip of the V formation. Gradually, they turned, and finally, the face of the girl Seth had come to see appeared, his mouth slightly open in awe.

With a confident and seductive smile, and lips as red as rubies, the goddess lifted her eyelids to reveal dark purple irises, with long lashes inherited from her mother. She walked slowly as the other women scattered across the stage. In perfect synchronization, they began their choreography with incredible flair. Crystals and golden beads intertwined and flew through the air as they twirled, the decorations sparkling as brightly as she did, leaving the audience breathless.

Seth’s red eyes followed every movement, admiring the curves that swayed with mischievous grace. Ignored until she decided to get closer to the prime spot, she crouched with a predatory air and crept to the edge of the platform, supporting herself on her hands and knees. The crowd cheered excitedly as she maintained eye contact, rising at one point and slowly swaying her hips. She traced her legs, thighs, waist, and neck in an extremely sensual display before turning and calling one of the men dancing nearby.

Euphoria erupted at the potential of what might happen, with Seth grinding his teeth and watching almost without blinking as she placed both hands on the man’s shoulders and began to caress him. He held her and spun her around, recognizing her intentions, and stroked her exposed abdomen while maintaining a challenging gaze toward the god. At this point, due to the heat from the large torches and the dance, she glistened with a light sheen of sweat and had cheeks flushed like beautiful garnets.

"I’ll wait for you," she said, her voice fading into the music and the noise.

Seth read her lips and watched as she threw a bracelet at his feet. Some people tried to reach for it, but he covered it with his hand, glaring at them so intensely that they backed off.

Once the event ended, he decided to wait for a signal. Suddenly, the bracelet began to heat up, pulling him with an unseen force in a specific direction. He let it guide him through a couple of crowded streets before turning into an alley, where the woman awaited, leaning against a wall and inspecting her nails.

"I learned of your existence only recently, unlike the rest," he remarked with a hint of reproach.

"It’s understandable. From what I’ve been told, your temper is rather volatile and aggressive," she said, shrugging as if it didn’t matter much. "What brings you here?" she asked, tilting her head and closing the distance between them, but soon found herself trapped as sand coiled around her legs.

"As the God of War and the Desert, I’ve come to deal with the trouble you’re causing with your suitors."

She averted her gaze and rolled her eyes silently, prompting Seth to issue a warning sound that forced her to speak.

"Do you have somewhere more private?"

Seth narrowed his eyes, considering the question before grabbing her by the arm and vanishing in a whirlwind.

"This is…" she hesitated, looking around.

"My temple," he finished, shedding the unnecessary linen, letting his red hair fall freely over his shoulders.

"Wow," she murmured, gently touching a strand. "I could make so many things to enhance this color. It’s so beautiful..."

Seth grabbed her wrist high in warning, allowing her to smile and lick his hand without breaking eye contact.

"Careful, or I’ll cut out your tongue."

She snorted, pulling free and turning her back to him, elegantly walking toward the massive stairs leading to the main building. The jewels and gemstone threads hanging from her chimed harmoniously with each step, glowing brighter as she neared the torches.

"It’s huge. I wouldn’t mind spending a few weeks here," she teased, brushing a wall with her fingers.

Seth followed at a measured distance, his eyes tracking her every move, taking in everything she was. Since he first saw her, an unfamiliar, overwhelming need had been growing inside him, frustratingly hard to ignore.

"Did I offer for you to stay?"

"Don’t you want me to? I’m good company," she turned, walking backward. "Why do you think those who know me fight over having me?" she winked.

"Sex."

"If that’s all, why don’t they forget me when I leave? What makes them cling so tightly?" she slowed her pace, drawing closer. "You saw it tonight—the crowd gets excited just watching me... Even you."

Seth clenched his teeth in frustration, and she stuck her tongue out teasingly.

“Do you have your mother’s permission to be mingling with gods?”

“I haven’t needed her approval in centuries,” she laughed. “I told her today I’d try to avoid causing chaos. Who knows, maybe getting close to the God of War is the solution.”

“You’ll be more trouble than pleasure.”

Her laugh rang out at that, before she pretended to ponder deeply.

“Do you have musicians? Maybe a private dance would change your mind.”

“We have matters to settle first,” he replied indifferently, though she knew a little push would make him fall. “What’s your name?”

"I'll tell you depending on what you decide after my dance."

He clenched his jaw, hating the carefree tone in her voice and the mischievous glint in her eyes. The constant smile was unnerving, making it seem like she was the one in control.

"Why do you live like a nomad, performing shows?"

"Mortal or immortal, every being is born with a family they can cherish—or not. My mother is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, and she'll always have a place in my heart. But the rest doesn’t really matter much. I met people who share my interests, people I enjoy spending my days with. They trust me, and I trust them, so I chose them," she explained, a new air surrounding her. "I won't leave that caravan, not when everyone I care about has an expiration date."

"You have feelings unbefitting of a deity."

"What is a god without humanity? If you don’t understand the people you’re meant to protect, represent, and serve, how can you be an empathetic and respectable ruler?" she asked, her eyes filled with pure seriousness. "I know I’ll never rule Egypt, but that doesn’t make me indifferent to those who pray to me."

"By the way you speak, I have no doubt you’re close to Osiris and Isis."

"Well thought out, both had a big hand in raising me," she responded, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one hip.

"Whatever," he mimicked her stance, looking her up and down. "Are you incapable of ordering your lovers to stop fighting over you?"

"Most haven’t even managed to lay a finger on me; they fight purely for the desire to do so. I’ve intervened, but the one who really should be stepping up here is Nephthys and encouraging peace."

"I don't question that. They should’ve turned to her from the start."

"She’s your sister. If she doesn’t act, you could ask her."

"Who do you think I am, a messenger?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Wow," she sighed, tilting her head. "So what now, we sleep together and let the rumor spread to scare the gods?"

"You’re really persistent. Do you want me that badly?" He clicked his tongue, grinning smugly.

The question drew a dry laugh from her as she stepped closer.

"I won’t deny you’re incredibly attractive, but even before you showed up at the performance, I knew I was in the mood for some fun tonight. If you don’t join me, I’ll find someone else to satisfy me."

Seth exhaled and held her gaze, his heart racing as he fought the urge to look away, feeling as if she were pulling him closer to the edge of a cliff.

"I believe you promised to dance and change my mind, didn’t you?"

"Finally, we’re getting to the important part," she said, pleased, taking a step back. "Lead me to your musicians."

Without delay, he took the lead and left her waiting outside as he entered a room. From the corridor, she could hear the hurried greetings of men and women as they scrambled to follow his commands, a few accidental notes sounding in the shuffle. A considerable line of people soon filed out, their eyes widening as they caught sight of her. She smiled, reveling in the way some let their jaws drop in astonishment.Seth exhaled and held her gaze, his heart racing as he fought the urge to look away, feeling as if she were pulling him closer to the edge of a cliff.

"I believe you promised to dance and change my mind, didn’t you?"

"Finally, we’re getting to the important part," she said, pleased, taking a step back. "Lead me to your musicians."

“What’s keeping you all busy?” Seth asked from the back, his voice causing everyone to snap out of their stupor and hasten their movements.

"If you decide not to have sex with me, I’m glad to know I won’t have to look far for another partner."

He shot her a sidelong glance, gritted his teeth, and then tossed his hair back.

"Let’s go."

They walked calmly, with Seth entering first into a vast room where a massive mattress lay nearly at floor level. Posts with large curtains were arranged to shield the bed from view, while four attendants lit incense and prepared alcohol.

"Release the side curtains."

Another small group hurried to comply, loosening the ties and leaving only one section uncovered.

"Interesting," the goddess remarked, taking a few steps around the room.

The musicians arranged their instruments and took positions concealed by heavy drapes, their role clearly to observe the guest.

"Prepare as you wish," Seth said with an indifferent gesture before heading to the bed and reclining against a large mound of pillows.

Two women approached with golden goblets filled with wine, which both accepted before the temple owner instructed them to leave.

As she drank calmly, she approached the musicians to discuss her preferences. They exchanged opinions and reached an agreement on how to proceed. Satisfied with the outcome, she moved several meters from the bed and took her place directly in front of the open section.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Are you?” he replied, raising an eyebrow as the incense began to fill the room.

Winking, she emptied his glass in one gulp and raised it in the air. At this signal, the musicians began to play as she turned her back to him, keeping her arm extended above her head.

As she swayed her hips slowly, the gold she wore started to melt and reshape. It dripped down her arm, first forming a small head and then an elongated body. The newly formed snake coiled and descended to rest around her neck. With both hands on the sensitive area, she turned slowly and smiled with her eyes closed, letting herself be carried away by the music. She caressed her collarbones and shoulders before extending her arms, while the serpentine creation moved across her chest and encircled her. Suddenly, a piece of fabric fell away, revealing a breast.

As if nothing had happened, she continued her dance, the metal caressing and embracing every part of her body as it descended. Her adorned wrists and fingers skimmed her skin and created perfect movements in the air, captivating the onlookers who held their breath as the serpent approached the garment covering her most intimate area.

Unperturbed, she turned and placed both hands on the back of her legs, carefully lifting a bit of the fabric. The serpent coiled one of its segments around her thigh to keep her hand in place, taking advantage of the opportunity to slither beneath her skirt.

A murmur rose from the left side, and the woman glanced over her shoulder to see Seth’s unblinking gaze, though one of his eyebrows twitched involuntarily at a comment she couldn't quite decipher. With a smile, she arched her back and bent her body backward, her free fingers caressing from her abdomen up to the exposed breast, squeezing it with delight.

The serpent gradually released her, and she turned to show how it emerged from the front, starting to rise and drag the fabric up to the edge of revealing her inner thigh. However, she made sure not to expose too much, guiding it to change direction slightly. She pivoted on one foot, preparing for the imminent drumbeat, and at that moment, she fell to her knees with her hands extended and her hair cascading forward.

She slowly straightened up, and the musicians adjusted their rhythm to match her movements. Seated in a W shape with her legs apart, she locked eyes with Seth and felt the intense heat from his red gaze, which made her smile. She then turned her attention to one of the women who had earlier caught her eye. Attractive and alluring, the woman was a tempting prospect if Seth chose to let her go. In an instant, the protagonist contemplated how to seduce her, but the god’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Everyone snapped out of their trance and ceased their actions, the musicians hurriedly gathering their instruments and leaving the room. Within minutes, they were alone, and she approached the foot of the bed, tilting her head with curiosity.

“Didn’t you like the performance?”

Seth took a deep breath, finished his wine, and threw the glass off the bed with a loud clink. He adjusted himself and gestured with his index finger, signaling her to come closer. She smiled and took a few steps onto the bed, getting on all fours and crawling towards him until she was on top. The serpent, curious, slithered over the red-haired man’s body as they locked eyes.

“It was disrespectful of you to look at someone else when you should have been trying to convince me.”

“Is that why you cut off the dance? I was just assessing the best option in case you decided to pass on such an incredible opportunity,” she defended herself, moving closer until their faces were only a few centimeters apart. “So, what’s your answer?”

After a moment of silence, he placed his right hand on her head to close the distance. Their lips met and quickly intertwined, his feeling incredibly soft mixed with the aroma of the wine they had drunk.

"When you decided to meet me, had you planned this?" she asked as he pulled away, his hand caressing the small of her back.

"You’re the first descendant of Hathor, and she had hidden you from me jealously. It was just curiosity," she replied. "And you? Why did you give me the bracelet?"

"Isn’t it obvious? You captivated me the moment I saw you. I definitely wanted us to share a bed."

Seth flashed a small sidelong smile and brushed her hair back, the intertwined lines of gems shining in his hand as he gathered it.

“What’s your name?” he asked, even more dazzled by her incredible appearance up close.

She smiled and tilted her head towards one of the curtains, as if deciding whether to reveal the information. Finally, she turned back and kissed the palm resting on her cheek.

“Habibah, which means ‘the one who is loved,’” she confessed, with a look of complicity.

“Your mother really knew what she was doing, because that’s how everyone seems to feel when they meet you.”

“Even the God of War and the Desert?”

“I’m not like the others. Do you think you can make me feel the same way?” he said with a touch of challenge, but sounding more like an invitation to continue what they had started.

Accepting the challenge and everything it implied, she kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his. Seth caressed her warm skin and then pressed down, aligning their bodies so that she could feel his erection. Without hesitation, she began to move her hips, and he let out a pleased sigh, his hands finding their way to her waist.

Habibah ran a hand through his red hair and descended slowly, tracing her way down his chest until she focused on one of his nipples. Seth gritted his teeth, undid the clasp of the upper fabric, and started to caress what was within reach, instructing her to lie down.

Without hesitation, she moved a few pillows and settled against the soft mattress, watching as the serpent coiled around the man’s arm like a perfect and beautiful accessory. He barely noticed the gold, focusing instead on returning her affections. Habibah closed her eyes and took a deep breath as his lips arrived at her breasts. She caressed his shoulders and back, lightly scratching as she felt him burning like the desert under the sun.

The incense began to take effect, lightening their minds and giving way to an intense desire that drove them to hold each other with urgency. Their hips searched for each other frantically, moaning against one another in broken kisses, their legs and arms entwined in a connection with no clear beginning or end.

Habibah slipped a hand between them, urgently seeking his erection, which she attended to with skillful movements until she lifted the fabric that covered his intimacy. Seth created some distance and propped himself on his knees, removing the minimal clothing and setting it aside before focusing on her. Completely naked and adorned only with jewelry, she settled herself as he took her legs and dragged her over his thighs. The movement elicited a small surprised sound from Habibah, and he watched her expectantly while caressing the outer side of her legs.

“Do it,” she encouraged, brushing his stomach with a hand.

Seth tightened his grip, leaving momentary marks before releasing her and taking his erection. With a single movement, he inserted the tip and then thrust in a steady rhythm until he reached the deepest point. Both moaned, and the woman arched her back with a wide smile while pulling the sheets.

“You’re incredibly wet,” he growled, his cheeks flushed with satisfaction.

“You say that as if it’s something strange. Don’t women get excited with you?”

She shivered with excitement and pleasure as a sharp, red gaze emerged among the fiery hair. The intense tickling sensation made her laugh with delight until she nearly screamed as he began to thrust forcefully. Breathless, she tried to steady herself amidst the sounds of raw impact, the heat and pleasure spreading like waves from the center of her body to every corner.

"You shouldn’t be competing with the God of War," he said with a proud expression.

"I don’t mind losing," she replied honestly, though she knew it would only fuel the fire further.

Seth narrowed his eyes but soon regained his composure, placing his hands on the mattress with a feigned calm as she wrapped her legs around his body. She swayed her hips, feeling his member pressing down, and he resumed the movement with great force after a hiss. Habibah pulled him towards her by the nape to kiss him, shivering as his tongue entered and took control. The thrusts were relentless, with a stamina reminiscent of someone who had fought countless battles to defend Egypt.

With tearful eyes, she admired the man moving above her, pushing aside her strands of hair to see him better, noticing the earrings that moved violently in sync with their owner.

"I’ll make you some prettier ones," she said, brushing against the fine, rectangular gold plate.

"How can you think of that in the middle of sex?"

"Maybe you should try harder," she pressed, noticing how the atmosphere shifted in the blink of an eye.

The room fell silent, and Habibah's skin tingled as she realized she had made a mistake.

"Turn around," he commanded as he withdrew from her, not waiting for her to move and grabbing her by the arm to start repositioning her.

Any doubt vanished when she lost her breath again, feeling Seth penetrate her abruptly and hold her by the neck with considerable force. She was left gasping for air and tried to grab his wrist, but the sand made her hands stick to the bed.

"Such behavior with someone who was born long before you is very inappropriate," he growled, his abs tensing as he gradually adjusted the angle to graze the spot that would drive her wild. "Talking less and learning would do you a lot of good."

Involuntarily, Habibah’s eyes rolled back as he found her most sensitive area, her legs wanting to give out but unable to do so due to the force with which he held her.

“Se… th…” she called, her muscles trembling in a way she had never experienced before.

“Hmm?” he asked, loosening his grip.

A bit of awareness returned to her as she tried to ask for a breath amidst the perfect administrations. However, Seth increased his effort, making it impossible for her to speak.

Cursing inwardly, she let her head drop as moisture dripped down her thighs, slightly staining the sheets. Seth held her by the hips for added stability and wrapped sand around her neck, the itching heightening the effects of pleasure and strangulation. Any cries and moans were muffled or cut off, with only a few gasps escaping as he breathed heavily and occasionally growled in deep satisfaction.

Struggling to swallow and relishing the challenge, Habibah briefly focused and set the serpent in motion. The god's hips lost their rhythm, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the golden creature firmly wrapped around the redhead's throat.

“T-Two…” she tried to say, and he deliberately loosened his grip. “Two can play… this game,” she smiled proudly, though she soon rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows.

He breathed heavily, the metal not yielding in the slightest and intensifying his own sensations.

“I knew you’d be a pain if I brought you to the temple,” he growled, his brow furrowed.

Habibah tried to laugh, but a strange sound escaped as she felt the onset of her orgasm.

“But I… I also give you pleasure,” she defended, feeling her lungs burn and forcing the gold to make him suffer the same way she did.

A desperate, frustrated groan escaped from the man, who felt the constriction sending electric waves to his erection. He clenched his jaw and threw his head back, pushing into her with renewed urgency to provoke the impending climax.

Both seemed to have lost control of their consciousness and bodies as they moved, overwhelmed by the need to escape the pleasure consuming them. They were on the brink of fainting, allowing brief moments of calm before their necks were swiftly constricted again.

Habibah's spasms intensified, reaching a climax that opened a new world of pleasure. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, making lascivious sounds as the moisture increased significantly with the release. The pressure of her walls became too much for Seth to bear, and the stimulation pushed him to his limit, culminating inside her. He trembled and groaned loudly, delivering the final thrusts with some difficulty until the stimulation became overwhelming and he stopped.

Both the metal and the sand loosened, and they both breathed heavily, their eyelids drooping as they collapsed onto the mattress, savoring the comfort. Habibah, lying face down, slowly turned to look at the man, who had one arm draped over his forehead as he steadied himself. He looked just as beautiful, if not more so, with an enviable profile and eye and hair color that she would love to highlight with various creations.

“That was good,” the young woman sighed, stretching her arms.

Seth watched her, unknowingly mimicking her movements, silently admiring the beauty that had captivated him at a single glance. They chatted a bit and decided that this would be the only round, though their mouths didn't escape some additional entanglements until they surrendered to sleep.

When the sun was high, the god cracked open his eyes and, groggy, took a few minutes to become aware of his surroundings. Floral scents filled the air, none of which were familiar, so he looked around and noticed Habibah’s absence. Frowning, he sat up, ready to get up and find out if she had left, but then he heard a noise in the room and, cautiously, drew back the curtains.

Facing away from the window, the goddess examined herself in the mirror as she applied a type of oil to her face. Her hair was wet and slicked back, the sunlight streaming in and drying it quickly. She was visibly focused and didn't realize that Seth had awakened until his bare feet made a soft noise on the floor.

“Good morning,” Habibah smiled as she applied perfume.

“I see you found the bathrooms.”

“Yes, after the show and our entanglement, I needed to freshen up.”

“I still have the bracelet you threw at me.”

“It’s yours,” she said, looking at the object. “With it, if you ever get bored and miss me, you can find me wherever I am and relive last night,” she winked playfully.

Seth clicked his tongue and looked at the accessory, feeling his stomach churn. The stones sparkled as much as she did in the sun.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Still, you should be prepared for when my mother sees you wearing something of mine,” she warned, stretching her neck to examine the marks he had left.

“Not much she can do,” he brushed off, placing a hand on his hip. “Are you heading to the caravan?”

“Yes, I need to let them know I’m okay and ready for tonight’s performance.”

“How long will you stay in the city?”

“Until the next full moon.”

They fell silent for a moment, and Seth crossed his arms, looking out the window at the clear sky.

“Stay here.”

“Excuse me?” Habibah raised both eyebrows, admiring his chiseled face.

“During the night, don’t sleep in the caravan. Come here.”

“Every night?” she asked, surprised.

Seth nodded, and she blinked, perplexed, but then gave a quick affirmative gesture.

“I would love to, thank you.”

“I’ll go take a bath. Do as you wish in the temple.”

“Are problems included?” she asked mischievously, and he tilted his head.

“No.”

“But…”

“If so, I’ll punish you.”

“Somehow, that sounds very promising. Maybe you should give me a lesson,” she laughed, playful and seductive.

“I’ve just gotten up,” he said with a yawn, still feeling the remnants of the previous night. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Of course, I’ll make sure to say goodbye before I leave.”

As she watched his back, Habibah dropped any pretense and smiled slyly, knowing that the man was falling for her. He wasn’t different from any other human or deity, but Seth was undoubtedly the one she truly desired, and she would give him everything if he surrendered at her feet.

130 notes · View notes

egypt-museum · 6 months ago

Text

Statue of Senusret I

This statue is one of ten, made out of white limestone, depicting King Senusret I seated on his throne wearing the nemes headdress decorated with the uraeus or rearing cobra. The statues differ slightly from one another and bear the harmonious features of a young man with a serene expression.

The most remarkable thing about these statues is the decoration on the sides of the thrones showing the theme of the unification of the Two Lands, which was associated with the Nile god, Hapi.

On five of the statues, The Nile god Hapi was replaced by Horus and Seth. Furthermore, we have here one of the rare cases in which the image of Seth, god of confusion, power and desert, was not destroyed through the superstition of later generations.

Middle Kingdom, 12th Dynasty, ca. 1971-1926 BC. Now in the Egyptian Museum, Cairo. JE 31139

#ancient egypt #senusret i #12th dynasty #middle kingdom #sculpture

110 notes · View notes

mister-a-z-fell · 5 months ago

Text

People often say to me ‘Aziraphale, what exactly is Firmament?’

And by ‘often’, I mean ‘twice’, and they don’t so much say it as send me little enquiries on the Twitters and the Tumbler, along with inexplicable demands to know whether Crowley or I go ‘on top’.

I’ll get to the point in a moment, but, since you’re here, I would like to make it clear that our sleeping arrangements are nobody’s business but our own.

In any case, we don’t own a bunk bed, so the point is moot.

The subject of Firmament first came up on a clear night a few hundred years after I followed Adam and Eve out from Eden. Seth — their third child — was lying on a stone outcrop near the settlement, watching the sky, and I was sitting a little way off, keeping an eye out for scorpions.

‘Ol-ah-kwa*?’ The boy was usually full of questions, but that night he’d been uncharacteristically quiet. ‘What are they called, the lights above?’ It wasn’t the first time he’d asked and he already knew the answer perfectly well, but that was his way.

‘Those are stars. Has your father shown you how to find your path by them?’ He shook his head, and I resolved to talk to Eve in the morning.

‘How are they there? Are they like flowers on a bush? Or spots on a lizard? How many there are.’

I wished Crowley had been there, just then. He could have explained it so much better. I did my best, although I think I left him with the impression that every star hovered high in the heavens like a hummingbird, and he took some convincing that they wouldn’t eventually grow tired, having nowhere to perch, and come crashing down around us.

‘But why are they like fires? If they were made to fly up there forever, why don’t they grow feathers and just be birds?’

‘Well, that would rather defeat the purpose, B-qa-lyl**.’ And that might have been the end of the matter, but the boy had long since learned my weakness.

‘Don’t you know?’

And this is what I told him:

‘They are stars, because God told them to be stars. If She ever decides that they should be birds, then birds they will become. She told your father and mother to be human, because there was a place made in the world for humanity. Your purpose in this life is to discover what it means to be human.’

‘What about the next life?’

‘Wait and see.’

And this is what I didn’t tell him:

In the Beginning was the Void. And God spoke into the Nothing -That-Was, and that word was the first Firmament.

Firmament exists without mass, without substance. It is the Almighty’s intent, Her design, Her love; it is a blueprint for reality, pure potential and the Universe is spun with its threads. In the hands of the Virtues, it takes on form, accretes matter — becomes Material, a mechanism turned with a key that sounds like ‘LET THERE BE’.

Firmament can only be seen by the shadows that it casts. Gravity. The way that particles converse. Electromagnetism. Slood. It moves in mysterious ways and it reaches everywhere that is not Void. One day, scholars will glimpse the outer edges of ‘omnipresence’, and call it ‘quantum entanglement’.

I should have found a way to explain that — while stars aren’t birds — they share their firmament as all the brush stokes of a masterpiece share their canvas, as the individual notes of a melody are carried on the same breath. Everything touches everything. ‘Look what ye have done unto one of the least of these my brethren, the same have ye done unto me.’

Perhaps if I’d taught Seth that all that lies between each of us and the furthest, strangest star is a triviality called ‘distance’, which only really has meaning inside the preserve of mortal dimensions, he might have understood. I tried to explain it to his descendants, but perhaps they were too old, too certain of themselves, to listen. I was never much of a teacher.

Later, in all the confusion of Babel, rāqīa (something beaten thin to form a surface) and rakhmyn (love) went their separate ways, and whenever I encountered the subject of… celestial scaffolding — for want of a better word — it came in the context of the former. A shell to support the stars, to hold back the upper waters. They forgot about the ‘love’ part.

Later still, Crowley got volubly drunk with a fellow named Copernicus and made some progress, but even his controversial model couldn’t let go of firmament as the pastry around the universal profiterole.

Then there was Giordano Bruno… but we don’t talk about him.

So, here I am, trying again. Hoping that I’ve explained myself better this time, because, after all, that’s what an angel is: Firmament imbued with mind, and grace, willed into life by words of purpose unique to each one of us. Wearing atomic fancy-dress so that we can speak to you in words you can comprehend (ideally without falling down and giggling while your hair smoulders gently).

We are, at base, figments of Her imagination, which is so powerful that it was necessary that She invent free will to stop all things yielding unfailingly to Her whim. As a consequence, reality tends to become malleable in our immediate vicinity.

What is Firmament? It’s everything. It’s Creation. It’s humans, and demons, and angels. It’s stars, and it’s the walls of Eden. It’s the bullet, and the finger pulling the trigger, the magician and the audience, and the shocked air expanding in ripples from the burning powder. It’s the scalpel, and the flesh. And inside, beneath the dancing atoms, it’s love.

Try to remember that part, because sometimes it seems very well hidden.

It’s love.

*Brother

**Something small

#good omens #hashytag good omens #spoilers #Yes I may have partaken of a little myrrh #Cosmological wittering #Too long for a fortune cookie #Crowley has taken over the hashytags #We are not drunk enough for this #Crowley shush #You will meet a tall dark stranger #My dear I’ve already met you #I’m not a stranger #You are /quite/ strange

115 notes · View notes

romanceclub-confessionss · 2 months ago

Text

Confession:

"I hate how Remy messed up the plot in SOCN. Amen in S2 is not the same with his S1 counterpart. The fight scene with Seth was confusing as hell, like, why would he fight a literal god? SOCN was one my fave stories but now I only read it during 2nd or 3rd diamond rush. Sometimes, I completely forget about it."

#romance club #rc #song of the crimson nile #rc amen #rc seth #writer confession

51 notes · View notes

januaryembrs · 1 year ago

Text

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [2]

description: She wakes up with a killer headache and a million questions when she realises two things: 1. the man in her room is not infact Steven Grant and 2. her body no longer belongs to her but to the God of Death. [Last Night in Soho inspired]

word count: 9.6k

trigger warnings: GORE, blood, very briefly Reader/Dove has worries of SA but absolutely none happens nor was there the intention of it happening and it is only implied, swearing, talks of infidelity (we love Layla el Faouly in this house so she will stay in the story but not as a romantic partner for Marc/Steven)

main masterlist | series masterlist

authors note: so as promised this is now an avatar!reader series. all the Ancient Egyptian facts mentioned are simply researched off google and some books I have on Egyptian mythology so someone please correct me! Also to avoid confusion Seth goes by many names eg Set/Seth/Setekh and is only really known as God of Death in the marvel comics, not in real mythology! Again, my knowledge of DID is purely researched so if anyone is upset with my phrasing or what I have written please tell me!

Please reblog and comment for your authors!

Marc cradled her wounds harshly, guilty chipping at him when he heard her whimper at the sheer force he was putting on the lacerations.

“Konshu!” Marc hissed over his shoulder where he felt the bird poking at the Jackal’s dead body. He had arrived five minutes too late, barely just pulling the monster off her before it could set its teeth into her leg and start feasting. The dark haired man had been quick to snap its neck, throwing the carcass behind him and tend to where she twitched and writhed on the floor.

It was bad. Her thick blood smeared all over the ceremonial armour that would somehow clean itself of the stains like it did with the blood of the others he’d killed.

He’d had blood on his hands before, but not like this. Not an innocent woman that slipped away under his touch, the eyes he’d seen from inside the body batting up at Steven with golden innocence.

He knew how Steven felt about her, the way his heart, well their heart, would pick up when the two of them got even the slightest bit closer. The way doubt ate away at his quiet counterpart, doubt that someone her age would find a man ten years older than her even the slightest bit attractive. She had dozens of men after her, he saw how their eyes trailed up and down her figure when she would be so much as stood minding her business and stacking shelves.

Marc knew despite Steven never admitting to his feelings, despite the fact he’d tried helping him get over his crush by asking his other gorgeous co-worker on a date for him, he knew Steven would be devastated if anything happened to her.

The two of them shared a friendship first and foremost. She was possibly the only person Steven had to rely on that he found comfort in, the only real friend he’d got. And she was good, Gods above Marc could see even when he was on the inside that she was good to him. When she would leave him notes to remind him to wake up on time, bring Steven little trinkets she’d found that reminded her of him. She hadn’t batted a single eyelid of judgement when she’d seen the sand around his bed, or the foot cuff. In fact she’d made a joke about his unique tastes in the bedroom and then asked if he would like to buy mugs together.

She was pure, and kind, and good. It was Marc’s job to deliver vengeance to those worthy of it, and she was the furthest thing from it. And it was his conflict with Harrow that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

He couldn’t let her be taken from Steven, not like this.

“KONSHU?” Marc called, louder this time to get the God’s attention, “Will you quit poking that thing and get over here?”

The skeletal figure paused, his staff still half way through prodding the corpse out of intrigue as he took note of the pitiful little human dying on the floor.

“She’s a lost cause, Marc. The worm can make more friends. We have work to do,” Came Konshu’s booming voice, the figure walking towards where the blood pooled on the floor messily.

“That is not an option, what happened to protecting ‘the travellers of the night’?” Marc seethed back, compressing the wound harder. But it was no use. He felt the liquid seeping through his clothed fingers, how it pumped out of her rapidly. His heart dropped sadly when he saw she was looking right at him, her eyes wide and wet with fear.

“Steve-” She started. Even so close to death she was worried about him.

Marc’s chest constricted with sadness. Steven would never get over this if she were to die like this, calling for him, clinging to his alter for dear life. It was his job to protect Steven at all costs from the tough realities of life, and watching her die would torment his alter in a way he just couldn’t allow.

“He’s here, he’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Marc shushed her, eyes narrowing on the way blood dribbled out her mouth and he heard her chest rattle with a clogged airway.

She didn’t have long left.

“Konshu, do something!” Marc yelled, his hand cradling her neck gently, trying to tip her head up far enough that she could breathe still. “We need to do something now!”

“There is nothing to do, Marc Spector.” Konshu said simply, yet his boned beak snapped to the plinth the two humans rested on, his concave eyes trailing up to the monument that watched over them, “Unless…”

“Unless what? Just do something, she’s going to bleed out any minute now,” Marc rushed, a hand coming to hold her head up more as she started choking on herself.

He had seen gruesome things before, done gruesome things. But this was heart wrenching, watching the one person his alter cared for die so horrifically. Slow. Messy. Painfully.

“I cannot do anything to help the little runt,” Konshu snapped, raising his staff to the behemoth, looming figure behind the two humans clinging on to one another, “But he can,”

Marc’s head whipped to where the bird-faced demon was gesturing, the man’s near black eyes trailing up to the statue of the god watching over the three of them. “Who is that? Anubis? Ra?”

“Seth. God of Chaos, Storms and Foreign lands.” Konshu spoke of his old friend fondly. Marc’s eyes squinted in suspicion at the admiration in his voice. “Sometimes seen as the God of Death.”

If there was anyone who loved vengeance and all things violent as much as the moon deity, it was the one who created it all.

Spector’s heart squoze in fear at the idea of throwing her to a life of servitude like the one he had been forced into. But there was no way of healing her deep wounds in any other way than giving her up to a god that would find use in her survival.

“God of Death?” Marc asked, “Is there no one else who would take her?” Nothing about Seth screamed out that he would be gentle to her. Konshu was bad enough, and he was merely the God of the Moon, let alone the embodiment of violence.

“None that would accept a vessel so weak.” Konshu said darkly, kneeling down behind Marc and calling upon his dear friend in arms, “She is bleeding onto his monolith as if she’s given herself up to him as a sacrifice, he’ll like that,”

“No, wait-” Marc wasn’t sure he liked the sound of a deity so dark taking control of her, but he hadn’t the time to protest any further before his own God’s voice rattled the shards of glass laying on the floor with its volume.

“Seth! Old friend, we have a gift for you,” Konshu bellowed, his head lowering as a sign of respect to his superior. The god killer. The brother slayer. The evil serpent of the Ennead. Konshu could only revere in the footsteps of such a god equally, perhaps moreso, hated by the higher council.

Konshu’s avatar opened his mouth to protest when a snake-like hiss rolled over his back and every hair on his body stood on end. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before, everything warm inside of Marc’s body being robbed at the very sound of it, his breath included.

It was neither man, nor animal, nor monster. A mix between a snarl and a spit of anger from being woken from a deep slumber.

Death overcame the room.

“Konshu,” An ancient voice came from above. For the first time in Marc’s servitude to Konshu, he was afraid to see where the sound came from. What had made such a noise.

What Death looked like when you stared him in the face.

“It is good to see your face, shadow dweller,” The voice of Death spoke, every scratching syllable running through Spector’s body like a fear he’d never known.

He couldn’t face the thing that caused such a feeling, and kept his head down as a result. Down to where she was. Still looking at him with such desperation, oblivious to the unholy conversation happening around her.

The light in her eyes was dimming, the tears slithering into her hairline pitifully. She hadn’t got long left. He’d failed her. He’d fail her if Seth couldn’t get to her in time. Yet the selfish part of him didn’t want him to, wanted to keep her pure and untainted by such a cruel being.

But this was for Steven, he thought. Keep her alive for Steven’s sake.

“We have a body for you, dark one,” Konshu said, gesturing to the girl’s weak body that his pathetic avatar clung to fiercely.

“To see through the afterlife?” Seth questioned, the lights in the museum hall flickering as if indicating he was in every atom of the room with them.

“To have as a vessel, Seth,” The Moon god prompted, his staff gesturing to the pool of blood the two humans sat in, Marc’s arms by now drenched in it. “See how she bleeds for you. I know you feel it as I do, the darkness in her heart, the chaos-”

“Oh,” Seth’s aged voice hummed in delight, “Oh, how her corrupted heart sings to me. You have done well, Konshu,”

That had Marc gripping her body just that bit tighter. What had he done? The god seemed so thirsty for her blood, for her body.

But it was too late now. Death had taken a fascination to her. Two long tendrils of pure, cold darkness emerged from the shadows and wrapped around where her weak state was slipping away from Marc’s arms. Hands that had trusted him to keep her safe fell from his bicep, falling slowly into her lap as the blackness took her.

“Be gentle,” Came from Marc’s mouth before he could help it, not wanting to make himself known to the old god. Her body was raised into the air before the statue, her head limp as it sagged over her shoulders, heavy and lifeless. Shadows wrapped around her limbs, crawling up her nose and under her closed lids like an infection, spreading, consuming, digesting.

“Gentle?” The hoarse voice rumbled with laughter, “She is going to be my most prized possession,”

There was something so peaceful about the way she slept despite the trauma of the last couple days. Marc had flown the two of them back to her apartment, figuring it was a much easier way than getting on public transport with a sleeping woman in his arms. He knew it would garner too much attention, even with the way he’d wrapped her in Steven’s jacket to cover the sight of the blood from the security cameras.

He’d laid her in her soft bed, slipping her shoes off and draping the soft duvet over her body, the whole time she’d not murmured one bit. He would have almost been concerned that Seth hadn’t healed her in time had he not seen the two gods emerging from the dark corners of her bedroom like the boogeymen they were.

If Konshu was nerving to look at, then Seth was something straight out of a child’s nightmare.

Unlike Konshu, he was not bones. He had the body of a goliath man, arms taught with dark muscles, and a small piece of cloth to cover his dignity. Gold chest armour rested over his shoulders and wound around his thick arms. Hair lined his arms and chest in thick mounds, and he held a staff similar enough to Marc’s own god that he could see Seth’s was much more intricate than his counterpart. It had dark hieroglyphs running down the sides, a pointed skull of a jackal atop the weapon with a gold headpiece weaving its way over the animal's forehead neatly.

But that wasn’t what scared Marc. It was the beast’s head that sent chills down his spine. His head was that of a lithe dog, like a Doberman on steroids, ears and snout thin and long as it stared down at him. A predator if ever he saw one. Seth’s eyes were black, brimming with menace and plague, his jaws lined with what seemed like hundreds of teeth sharper than any blade Marc had ever seen.

The insidious smile plastered on the demonic jaws was what got him. As if Seth knew the fear he instilled in him. As if he saw how much he regretted listening to Konshu already.

Seth was every awful feeling you had in your gut before something terrible happened. He was the last breath a person takes as their soul leaves their body, a cold hand of a corpse. A dark shadow in the corner of your eye. A premonition of death. He was every ounce of pain, burden and agony any being had ever felt in the thousands of years they had existed in this small corner of the universe. He was torture and misery hailing down upon the world straight from purgatory.

And she was his now. His to ruin and vanquish as he pleased.

The two gods stood on either side of her bed, staring down at her in fascination as Marc sat on the chair at her desk, his dark eyes flicking between the monstrous creatures.

“Do you need to watch her like that? I thought we had work to do,” He prompted, hoping to take their attention off her vulnerable body.

“Harrow was onto something with this one, Marc Spector,” Konshu chuckled, taking a seat on the window sill to watch Seth caress her head, his hands gentle yet Marc sensed there was nothing kind about the gesture. As if on cue, her face scrunched up, still riddled with sleep, and she twisted in mental torment. His touch alone had given her a night terror, he was the king of chaos after all, “If you saw the yearning for vengeance in that girl’s heart, you’d find her fascinating too,”

“She’s not evil, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marc’s jaw clenched harshly as she whimpered and tried to roll away from the hand that poisoned her dreams. His eyes darkened at the sound of Seth laughing to himself at his cruel trick.

“She’s not what you think, runt. She will do well as my avatar,”

Marc finally set his gaze on the unholy deity, the slim, mutt like face staring down at him with inky black slits. He couldn’t hold the stare for long, the creeping feeling of unease that washed over him the moment he met Seth’s eyes was enough to knock the wind out of him.

Tugging on his collar to free some space for breath, he turned away.

“What will you make her do?” He asked quietly, sparing a quick, pitiful glance to her face that had now smoothed out in peace once more.

“Nothing she doesn’t already want to,”

She felt the uncomfortable scratch of jeans against bed sheets before anything else. The detergent, that was almost unscented from the countless years she’d used it, was homely against her nose and she stretched out under the covers to pop the joints that had been curled into the foetal position for however many hours she’d been asleep.

There were about ten seconds between waking up and remembering whatever the fuck happened last night where she remained in a beautiful state of blissful peace. There is a virtue in remaining ignorant, she realised. Remaining unaware. In fact, she would go on to cherish those ten seconds when her eyes took in the same plain wall that had always been next to her bed, when her head was not loud and the air was not tight in her chest.

Ten revered seconds when things didn’t hurt.

Yet by the eleventh second, the whole evening came flooding back to her, ripping through her synapses with the feeling of dread.

The man in the museum that had grabbed her and Steven. The dogs, the running. The creature tackling her, its teeth, oh god, its teeth and claws, the way she’d been thrown through the glass like it was child’s play.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, the early morning sun illuminated the room enough that she barely took note of the figure sat opposite her. Throwing the duvet off herself frantically, she scanned every inch of her body for anything that hurt, that was bleeding and needed immediate attention.

But, as was a recurring theme in her life these days, there was nothing there.

Not a single scratch, or scab, or scar in sight. Her shirt was ripped to shreds, dark red and spattered with something lumpy that she didn’t want to even consider what it was. That would need to be thrown away. But lifting up the torn fabric to reveal her bare stomach, there truly was nothing there that indicated what had happened was real. Were it not for the evidence on her shirt she wouldn’t even believe it had happened.

What the fuck was going on?

As if on cue, she raised her fuzzy head the slightest bit and caught the man sitting at her desk, looking straight at her with cold, brown hues. The short, dry yelp she let out had her lungs wincing, her hands raising in front of her to protect herself from any oncoming attack, before it clicked in her head that it was Steven.

Ofcourse it was. Ofcourse, Steven had gotten her home safely last night.

“Oh my god, Steven!” She rushed out of bed as he stood, though the dead expression hadn’t yet left his face as he stood to meet her.

Marc had barely opened his mouth to explain when he was tackled around his waist by her open arms. She was strong now, strong enough to hug him tightly and have his ribs jitter painfully, no doubt a side effect from becoming an avatar.

The older man had just about talked Konshu and Seth into leaving him to explain to her what was happening, knowing how terrified he was when he first started hearing the God of the Moon addressing him. He knew for anyone so soft to the world, hearing voices and seeing giant creatures ordering you to do their bidding would mean a one way ticket to a hospital ward.

“Steven, I’ve been so worried about you! What on earth happened, what were those things- wait!” She pulled away quickly and checked him over for wounds himself, searching him up and down until she was satisfied he was okay.

Marc would have laughed snidely at her concern, knowing he was more than capable of taking care of himself, had she been anyone else. But it was endearing how her first thought was for his alter’s safety.

Now came the hard part.

“I’m fine, everyone’s fine. How are you feeling?” He saw her gaze snap to his, brows drawing down into a frown at his accent.

“I’m-” She paused for a moment, and he watched as her eyes took in his whole demeanour. He knew he behaved differently to Steven, even by voice alone it was clear, but she seemed to be catching every small manner that he differed from him within seconds. “I’m fine, I could have sworn-” Eyes trailed over his face again as if to confirm her suspicions. She stepped back, shaking her head and bringing her hand to her temple, walking over to her mirror to check for any bruising. “Did I hit my head?”

He could have lied then and there. Marc could have washed his hands of her and convinced her she’d just had an awful fall, that nothing that happened last night was real. But Seth was coming to collect his dues, there was no stopping that now. Marc knew it was already his fault that she was in shit’s creek waist deep, it wasn’t fair of him to just up and run like he did with everything else in his life.

She deserved the truth. As so many people in his life deserved the truth; Layla, Steven. He had brought trouble to their doors and buried his head in the sand the moment he saw consequences. He’d ran away, denied, denied, denied until he started believing it himself in the hopes the guilt so familiar to him would let go of his chest.

But this was different. Dove was the only thing Steven had in his odd little life, the only person who cared for him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing he wasn’t only fucking up his own life but now Steven’s too, Steven who he had always tried to protect. Nurture. Perhaps he would have left her to the wolves were she his friend. But she wasn’t. She was Steven’s girl. His dove.

“Listen, you-” Her ears pricked at the sound of his new voice again. Marc saw how her posture straightened alertly, and her eyes snapped to look at him in her peripheral vision. Not necessarily panicked, but wary. As if trying to not give away her awareness of his change. A reflex, as if she’d done this before; hidden her fight, flight or freeze response. But Marc being the skilled mercenary he was, was one step behind her, clocking her reaction immediately. “You did hit your head pretty hard last night so I think you should sit down for this, princess.”

She turned slowly to look at him with wide eyes and he almost winced. She knew something was off, wrong. Princess? That was certainly new. Practically a million miles away from the nicknames he’d already established for her. She carefully sized him up with her cautious eyes, looking him head to toe as if to find the flaw that gave him away, the exact thing that made her feel the uncanny effect.

Truthfully, she had been able to tell just from the way he had hugged her. The barely there hand on her sides, the way his body went ironing board stiff in her arms, the way his head was held far away from her as if she were a bad smell instead of falling into the open space her shoulder provided like Steven normally would.

He was looking at her as if she were a wild animal on the side of the road, lame and ready to succumb to a terrible fate any second now. As if he was sorry, as if he’d been the driver knocking her down and had to be the one to see her shrivel pathetically on the pavement.

His voice was colder than Steven’s had ever been, formal. Everything about him screamed unfamiliar in the worst way despite being the double of him. But the way his face seemed tired, not in the way Steven was always tired but like he was tired of everything around him, tense, forlorn. Sorrowful. The way he stood straighter than Steven’s usually slumped over figure, he seemed immediately bigger and broader than her friend ever had because of it.

Whoever was looking at her was not her friend. Foe? She didn’t know, but she knew this man was not Steven Grant.

The next thought struck her harder than the glass wall had. What if it was? What if this was Steven, and their whole friendship over the past year had been an act to get her weak and vulnerable, cowering in her bedroom like a deer at the end of a rifle barrel.

“Who are you?” She murmured quietly, as if she were afraid to approach the clear fact he was not the man she’d known for the past few months.

The stranger took a sigh, raising his hands up to calm her as if to approach a spooked animal. “Look, I can explain everything, but would you please just sit-”

“Are you twins?” She asked, taking a step away from him. Please be twins. Please let me keep Steven, the only one who was ever good to me. Marc stopped in his place, realising his presence was scaring her. She looked pitiful, the warm eyes that had seemed so relieved to see Steven were now on high alert, nothing about her shrunken body seemed relaxed. Her eyes drifted past him to the door, and Marc was quick to realise she was gauging if they were in her apartment alone. “Is Steven here?”

One single beat.

“Yes.” She’d already caught him in his lie. He was hoping to get by on the technicality of his words, but his hesitancy to answer had her eyes snapping back to him in fear, “It’s difficult to explain. He’s here, he can’t talk right now,”

That did nothing to reassure her. In fact, it made it sound like Marc had hurt the one person she’d hoped to get her out of this situation. The man chided himself for his cold demeanour, but he couldn’t help but wince at the onslaught of information that was to come.

For this to make sense, he would need to tell her alot.

He saw it in her eyes. The way her body gave away her next moves, her slight, gentle step towards the door. Her chest puffed out as if she was building false confidence in herself for her next move. To run.

It didn’t matter that he looked like Steven, that he was wearing his clothes. That was not him. Had something happened to him with the invisible dogs? Or the white figure that had haunted her dreams that had held her as she had fallen into that cold darkness? Or was she truly going so far down the rabbit hole she was losing all sense of reality?

Either way, this man was a stranger. And he was in her room. Alone. Unbothered by the blood and gore on her shirt. And he wouldn’t let her see Steven, wherever he was.

A walking red flag.

Another single beat of silence passed between the two of them, before she bolted for the exit.

Maybe it was his military experience, or the fact her innocent face had made it so easy for her to read. But Marc was quick to catch her by the waist, tackling her to the floor and pinning her easily.

The scream she let out was awful. Her newfound strength and sheer terror made it a little more difficult to reach a hand over her mouth but the way she thrashed as if fighting for life clutched at Marc’s chest heavily. A free swipe of her arms, the blood and dirt still buried deep under her fingernails, came up to push his cheek, scratching deep into his skin enough to cause three red marks on his olive complexion and have him hiss in pain.

“Please, STEVEN- Please just let me go- Don’t- STEVEN” She yelled, her legs kicking up to try fight him off. Her eyes welled up as she screamed more, her throat audibly going raw from the sheer effort.

“Shhh. I’m not gonna hurt you, just please calm down,” Marc begged as he put his hand over her mouth. He saw the fear in her eyes that told him all he needed to know. He was a stranger to her, a stranger in her room that had pinned her to the floor.

Of fucking course she was terrified.

Her cries for help were only muffled by his large fingers as his eyes peered down at her in sorrow, “He’s here, I promise. Steven’s here, just please let me explain.”

Her eyes stared up at him through glassy, fat tears. The voice, that voice. The way he held her so gently despite having the strength to hold her in place. The stranger, the same stranger that held her last night was - what? Steven’s twin brother?

Marc watched the moment she recognised him, somewhat. Alteast recognising him out of the suit. It felt too reminiscent of the moment he’d watched her die. Call him selfish but he preferred when she’d held on to him in a fleeting moment of trust than the fear that she gazed at him with now.

“I saved you and Steven last night, from those things, remember me?” Marc asked sternly. Her eyes remained wide and frightened, but she seemed to give up struggling. Her face was the picture of confusion, conflicted whether to trust a familiar stranger or keep throwing her entire weight into fighting him off. “Yeah, see? Now I’m gonna let go of you but you’re gonna need to trust me for all of five minutes. Your life is in a lot more danger than those things that attacked you, and I’m not gonna be able to help you if you don’t listen to me. You got it?”

He felt her body relax the slightest amount, before she nodded helplessly. Marc checked over her face one last time for any immediate signs of fleeing. When he found none he let go, leaning back to stand, rubbing a hand over his stinging cheek. Not bleeding, but raised and hot with impact.

“Who are you?” She whispered, still laying on the floor in shock, her chest heaving with a nausea that had washed over her the moment he had gotten on top of her. Call it a reflex, but the idea of a man who wore her best friend’s face invoking such a power over her curdled her stomach to its very core.

Marc looked down at her, her eyes neither trusting nor looking for a reason to run. She needed to know, he repeated to himself, were it not so important he would have left with no query. No traumatic incidents needed.

But Death was around the corner. Sooner or later he’d appear to her, ask her for things Marc could only dread.

He owed her an explanation at the least.

Sticking out a hand, the same hand that had stopped her squeals for help, he offered her help up off the floor. Her eyes flicked from the tawny digits to his stiff expression in caution. “I’m Marc Spector. Nice to meet you,”

She sipped her tea silently. She liked it strong, unbearably sweet and piping hot. Sometimes she joked with Steven it was how she liked her men too. But she was in no joking manner now, and Steven wasn’t here anymore.

Well he was, and wasn’t at the same time.

They shared a body, that’s what Marc had said. She’d read about stuff like that, seen it in movies, but funnily enough the phenomenon of two people in one body wasn’t even what had her jaw clenched in disbelief.

Egyptian gods walked among them. Lived with them, had their own societies and laws, puppeteering random strangers to do their bidding.

And one, perhaps the worst one she could think of, had her in his clutches.

Of course she’d heard of Seth. She stacked around fifty of his statues a day in the back of the gift shop, his wolf-like face not nearly as friendly looking as one would hope if they’d learnt he was now their master.

If Marc was telling the truth, then that’s essentially what Seth was to her now. A puppet master, a dictator, a tyrant pulling the strings on her every move for the inevitable future.

He was the body of everything chaotic. Nefarious. Evil. Violent. And yet she couldn’t help but sigh at the dramatic irony that she expected nothing less from an ancient god that had taken an interest in her soul. It saw in her what she knew had always grown. What that Harrow guy knew immediately, supposedly the gift of his own god, to see the disruption inside people's hearts. What Steven and now Marc were so blind to.

Seth had seen the pollution that cursed her down to her marrow and licked his lips in glee.

“Are you okay?” Marc’s American accent met her ears. They sat in her kitchen, the small breakfast counter being the only thing holding her up as she rested her elbows on it, barely feeling the way the scalding hot tea slid past her silent lips.

“Mhm,” She murmured, hands wrapping delicately around her clean mug. She’d given Marc Steven’s mug, mindlessly making him a tea the way Steven loved his cuppas, only to have the new man wince and spit the liquid back out.

More of a black coffee guy, he’d said apologetically as she visually sank in realisation they were truly completely different people.

“I know it’s a lot to process, I know I freaked out the first time I spoke to Konshu.” Marc explained, his tea going cold with his lack of interest in the drink. He watched her expression meticulously, as if trying to pick over every tiny change in her face as to any hint how she was feeling.

She stared at the white table deep in thought. Blank and empty as the surface itself.

“What will he want from me?” She asked quietly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he confessed he was the other half of her best friend that happened to share a headspace with him.

Marc looked at her blankly. “I don’t know,” He answered honestly. He would love to tell her Seth would be kind and graceful, gentle as he’d put it. He’d love to take it back, dig her out of this mess in any other way than offering her as a sacrifice, a mess he’d made by listening to his own God’s orders.

Marc would love to leave her and Steven in peace to pining and mixed feelings and words unsaid, but he couldn’t. She was in the gates of Hell now, deep in the Underworld. And there was no point of return. No do over, or waking up and pretending the whole thing was a silly dream like he’d been pulling over Steven.

This was out of his hands now.

“He wouldn’t make me-” She paused, taking a deep breath and putting her mug onto the counter to stabilise her shaking hands, “He won’t get me to-” Kill was the word she kept silent, but Marc understood nonetheless. Seth was the god of death and violence and all things lawless. There wasn’t anything Marc could promise wouldn’t be coming her way. His expression must have been grave enough to warrant her to let out a rattled sigh, tucking her hands into her lap to pick at her dirty fingertips. “Oh,” She said simply.

“Look, once I’ve stopped Harrow from raising Ammit, then I can worry about how to get him to release you, okay?” Marc said shortly, running a weathered hand over his tired face.

It was odd, seeing a man look so much like the sweetest guy she’d ever met brush her off as if she were a minor inconvenience. Which she was. She knew he felt guilty for letting his god give her up to the higher being, but he seemed tired of this whole situation by now, reaching his limit on being tender with her.

Marc didn’t have time for this. He was trying to help the poor girl, but the best way he could think to fix their problem was to clear his plate of his own agenda first. Which meant leaving as soon as he could to get the scarab somewhere hidden and Harrow off his back.

Her eyes steeled over at his words, furrowing her brows. “Once we’ve stopped Harrow, you mean?”

“What?” Marc said with a huff, looking at his tea as if it poisoned him, wishing it were a black drip coffee she hadn’t got the money for.

“We can stop him, right?” She asked, an edge to her tone that she’d never used on Steven. Everything reserved for him was purely saccharine sweet and gentle, loving beyond what friends should be.

“We?” Marc bit with a scoff.

“Yes-”

“We?”

“Yes we, what, do you have a French man living in there too?” She barked, slamming the mug down with a blaze in her eye at the disdain he looked at her with, “Now look, I know it’s a little unavoidable for you and Steven, but I’m not one to have people fix my problems for me,”

“Yeah, you seemed to have it completely under control last night when you were bleeding out,” The man snapped, watching her jaw tense with an anger he’d never seen from his time watching her through Steven’s eyes.

They glared at each other for a moment, the red welts on his cheek staring back at her as if to remind her of her new strength. She needed him. Her body felt cold, as if she were carrying a corpse around not her own limbs, her every breath tasted of smoke and rot. She felt like she had bugs crawling over her spine, the hair on her arms never laying still with the goosebumps that dotted her skin. She felt dead. Casket, buried and six feet under. Then again, she sort of was.

“I’d like to speak to Steven, please,” She said quietly, polite despite the fact she was angry.

“I told you, you can’t talk to him right now,” Marc replied, stepping away from the kitchen and heading towards the front door to her apartment, “Look it was nice to meet you but I have work to do. You just stay here-”

She stood up, nearly knocking the mug over as she pursued him, grabbing his arm with a jolt.

Marc could have sworn she nearly ripped his arm out his socket with the unknown vigour she had. He made a small yelp that he choked down as she yanked him back to face her.

“You are not leaving me to deal with a God of Death alone, are you kidding me?” She seethed, unaware of how tight she was grabbing him. She was gonna leave one hell of a bruise, Marc thought, but the desperation in her voice was clear as a bell. “I don’t care if I have to stalk you myself, we both know you can stop this Harrow guy a lot faster if there’s two of us,”

“I won’t be stopping anyone if I only have one arm so would you please let go and stop mauling me, I’m trying to help you here, princess,” Marc retorted, as if to snap her out of her rage. Her eyes fell to where she was gripping him harshly, her hand alone turning the bottom half of his arm red with lack of circulation.

Her face visibly drew back in shock, letting go of him quickly. “Sorry,” She muttered, sheepishly.

Well, that was new.

Marc sighed, looking down at her crestfallen expression. She was scared, he knew she was, but putting her into the line of fire was exactly the last thing he wanted to do after already watching her suffer enough for his mistakes.

But she was persistent. And smart too, he knew she was right in saying they could figure out how to push back against Harrow a lot faster with two brains. At least if she was with him, he could keep an eye on how Seth was treating her.

If he was being much too greedy and insidious, which is what Marc expected from him, then maybe he could ask more of the Gods to step in. Or even the God of the Dead could help them find a way to stop Ammit from being resurrected. What was the point in conjuring chaos if another god was going to end everyone who had it in them?

“Alright,” She perked up instantly, those wide eyes looking at him with elation that he was going to stop being difficult and pushing her away, “You can help, only if you promise to do exactly what I ask of you. We can’t have you going rogue, that will make my whole plan just messy, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” She said smoothly, flashing him a toothy smile, “Thankyou, Marc. Really.”

“Alright,” He nodded, reaching for the door, “Get some more sleep, I’ll call you when I need you,”

The smile dropped from her face as fast as it had come. That phrase was not comforting in the slightest. How would she know he was honest, that he meant his word? Steven always meant his word. Steven she could trust with her life.

This man was not Steven.

She knew it was childish, but she was quick to grab his hand again, gentle this time, not nearly as forceful as before. His empty brown eyes snapped to meet her gaze, the hair on his arms standing to attention as if he'd been electrocuted by her touch alone.

“Promise me?” She asked, eyes wide and imploring him to understand how desperate she was, “Promise me you won’t leave me alone?”

He took a moment to look her in the eyes, her lashes framing the pure anguish held in her sweet face, batting up at him with woeful hope.

He could see why Steven liked her. She was the embodiment of everything good, everything that needed protecting in the world, that needed cherishing and kept safe. He felt her small hand squeeze him in need. Having someone so kind and so blatantly enchanting to look at essentially begging for his refuge awoke something primal in him, something caveman that said I would never let a hair on her head be harmed. Something not even sexual, just purely carnal that overcame his senses as he imagined it did Steven’s, that had him nodding on instinct.

“I promise,” Marc said calmly, squeezing her hand back, before he shut the door coldly and left her flat.

She did not in fact wait for Marc to call her. In fact, by the time she’d woken up she had two missed calls from Steven and a flurry of messages had filled her screen all from one of her four contacts in her phone.

Steven

Are you okay, Dove?

Please respond A S A P

I don’t know what’s happening, they’ve said I’ve destroyed the loos

They said I carried you out of the building but I don’t remember seeing you after we got split up

Oh god don’t be dead

That would make me a proper maniac who killed the only bloody friend I’ve ever had

Please don’t be dead

Dove please message as soon as you can I need to know you’re okay

She huffed a breath of relief. Steven was back. Anxious and worried for her life, but he was back. She had barely a few hours of sleep since she’d seen Marc leave her apartment around 5 am that morning, but by now it was well into the afternoon.

Talk about being dead asleep. No, that’s not funny, she chided her brain.

Rubbing aching hands over her eyes to remove the last remnants of exhaustion from her face, her hands floated over the keys to reply to him.

Yet she could think of no way to tell him just how she felt; as though she were both relieved and dreading the idea that she could now talk to him about everything that happened, that she wouldn’t be alone with his stern counterpart in fixing the situation she had found herself in.

Yet the thought settled deep in her stomach. What if he ran from the very sight of her? It was obvious Seth wanted her out of interest, not just convenience. How he lusted for the cruelty and anguish in her bones. The venom that bubbled under her skin, infecting her brain and thoughts, the part of her that made her a disease, contagious to everyone around her.

Steven could take one look at the woman she truly was and wish for nothing more to do with her. Then what? The loneliness she had always known awaited her? The feeling of being left to the darkest corners of herself she knew waited for a moment of weakness to strike. Is that what she was to be subdued to?

She couldn’t say she was surprised. But she had to see him. Even if to beg for forgiveness of the bitterness that lay inside her, get on her knees and ask him to stay for her.

Words on a screen simply wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t redeem her enough to keep him like she wanted, if she could ever repent at all, that is. She needed to see Steven.

“Let’s just get this over with. You sent these papers but you never signed them.” Layla sighed as she yanked the thick wad of documents out her bag. She had no idea what Marc was playing at, perhaps creating a new identity was his way of running from responsibility again. He was always good at that.

“Did I? Uh-” Steven fumbled for his reading glasses as the vibrant woman shoved the files under his nose.

“This is what you wanted,” The woman, Layla, the only person who could help him understand what it was this Marc guy had plunged him into, said to him with an unmistakable bite to her words.

“Let’s have a look here,” His coffee ground eyes scrunched in confusion as he read over the papers. He brought them closer to his face as if in disbelief as to what he was reading.

“After everything, you told me that we needed to move on,” Layla seemed to have calmed slightly, bitter still but more heavy than anything as she watched him look at her in astonishment.

‘Divorce/dissolution/judicial separation petition’ stared back at Steven, an offer to end a relationship he knew nothing about with a woman who frankly scared him. Yet he could see the pain in her dark eyes as she avoided his glance. The way she’d swallowed her pride to come after this Marc guy to get the papers signed once and for all, though by the sounds of it it was his idea completely.

This little American man seemed to like starting fires and not waiting to find out if they burnt. If people got hurt. Which they did.

Steven was still waiting for Dove to message him back. If Marc had hurt her in any way he swore he would hand himself over then and there, particularly after finding a bloody handgun in his storage locker listed under his name. A gun? A wife? His best friend’s body? Who knows what else this Marc was hiding?

“Divorce?” Steven asked, looking at Layla in confusion, “You- We? I don’t know- You two were married?”

“Yeah, we doing this or not?” Layla snapped, though the gloomy look on her face told Steven all he needed to know. She was hurting. She hated every second of this as much as he did.

He flicked through the pages a few times, clearing his mind on the matter. He felt he had no right to meddle or sign away anyone else's relationship yet this woman looked at him expectantly in a way that had him curling over in near fear. He opened his mouth to ask her more about this Marc guy she was so angry with when a pounding on his door met his ears.

“Steven,” It was her, “Steven, are you home?”

Oh, thank the heavens and every cloud in them. The tension that had grabbed him by the throat and laced it with emotion all morning melted away at the melody of her words. So eager to hear her voice, to convince himself she really was safe, he dropped the papers onto the nearest table and rushed to the sound of her knocking frantically once more.

“Who is that?” Layla asked, annoyed that the papers she’d dragged across the globe had been discarded without a second thought. But her question fell on deaf ears as Steven swung the heavy door open.

The two of them stared at each other for a brief moment, both of them looking equally as shocked, confused and exhausted by the events, yet still not quite believing that they were seeing each other alive again.

“Oh my god- Love-” Steven heaved as she bolted into his arms for the second time that day. Though this time he hugged her back just as strongly as she’d expected. His body soft, gentle, warm with the way he encompassed her figure with his entire being. Not like how Marc held her in the slightest. He squeezed her tight, as if letting go of her again was the last thing on his mind, his hands flat on her spine and his head burrowing into her sweet smelling collar.

God he was so relieved to feel her again. Her face was smashed into his chest, her new found strength bringing him as close to her as physically possible, hoping to everything he wasn’t going to leave her the second he knew about her new, um, condition.

“Steven, oh my god, I thought it was you, the guy in my room- and last night! I was so worried about you- how do you feel, are you okay?” She rushed, unaware of the way she was being watched by two enraged brown eyes.

She had been so enamoured with Steven holding her so close, she hadn’t even seen the stunning woman stood a metre away with an aghast expression.

“Dove, I was so worried, Marc said I had to give the body to him so he could help you, I-” Steven’s voice was clogged with guilty and sorrow as he drew back from her, watching her expression scrunch into concern, entirely focused on his every word, “I couldn’t help you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, love-”

“Hey, look. I’m okay, see?” She reassured, squeezing his waist lightly, wishing to soothe away the tears building in his waterline, “Marc got to me in time. I’m okay-”

“You met him?” Steven said the same time a new voice met her ears.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her head snapped to her left to where a woman stood, her fists clenched and full lips pursed into a sneer of disgust at her presence. She was gorgeous. Perhaps the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen. The type of face you’d see on a billboard, effortless and striking, the kind that had even her fawning over her rare beauty.

The woman looked all the more annoyed at her gawking expression.

Layla’s head cut to Steven’s flustered face, looking between the two women in surprise.

“This is-”

“Is this why you wanted a divorce, Marc?” Layla barked, the two embracing each other immediately pulling apart at the accusation that came crashing down on the two of them. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Divorce. The word echoed in her head like a stab to the chest. He was married. Steven, well Marc technically but Steven’s body was married. To the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. It only made sense. No matter which way he was packaged, whether he was Steven or Marc, he was a god among men even without Konshu.

And she currently looked like a mistress.

“No!” They chorused, Steven turning away from her and leaving her standing in the doorway confused.

“No, she’s my-” Steven paused as the younger woman spoke over him in just as much panic this woman would get the wrong idea.

“We work together,” She rushed, walking towards the woman with her arms up in surrender. Of course this looked bad. Awful. The guilt of falling head over heels for someone else's husband churned in her stomach.

“Me and her work at the museum, well worked I suppose,” Steven said, shutting the door behind her, hoping Layla didn’t start shouting like she had done a few times already. He was as tired of taking Marc’s shit as she seemed, but he supposed it was just as confusing for her to be married to someone who claimed he was someone else.

He just hoped the woman he was enamoured with entirely didn’t get the wrong idea also.

“I’m so sorry, I suppose I should introduce myself,” The younger woman attempted a friendly smile, which was entirely shut down by Layla glaring at her and snarling at her pleasant tone.

“You’re supposed to introduce yourself to a woman before you fuck her husband,” The woman said, leaning over the woman intimidatingly before turning to Steven’s scared mouse expression with a growl.

“I’m not sleeping with Marc,” Dove piped up, though her chest was rattling with the furious nut-brown gaze that met her the second she opened her mouth. If looks could kill, she’d be clinging to the shreds of life that she had left all over again. She saw Steven look at her with reddening cheeks at the inference of her words, “Or Steven! I’m not sleeping with either of them,”

Layla scoffed, looking her up and down, “What? So you’re just his young, pretty co-worker who just so happens to give them fat fucking heart eyes the minute she sees him?”

It was her turn to become flustered now. She felt the embarrassment hail down on her in waves, heat crawling over her cheeks as she stared at the woman who had managed to see her feelings for her husband within seconds. Women had sixth senses for things like that. Which wouldn’t be a bother, except Layla was married to him. Not Steven himself, but his body yes.

This was all so complicated for the half-dead girl’s already mithered head.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, hoping to god that Steven had somehow miraculously become deaf for five seconds and he truly hadn’t heard what his alter’s wife had just said.

“Exactly,” Layla huffed, reaching to grab her backpack and leave her husband and his mistress to their little roleplay where he was an English, ex-gift shoppist and she was his young co-worker too innocent to so much as tell him how she felt. What a joke.

“Wait, please,” The girl tried to slow her down, as she headed for the door, “Please, I can explain.”

A new knock on the door stopped Layla in her tracks.

“Steven Grant? Can we have a word?”

A female voice. Unfamiliar to either of them.

“DC Fitzgerald and DC Kennedy. We’re here about the disappearance of your co-worker,” The young woman’s face scrunched up in confusion as they said her name. Her full, legal name.

Steven and Layla simultaneously turned to look at her.

“You’re missing now?” Steven whispered, to which she shook her head.

“I spoke to the police on the way over here. Donna gave them my number when they saw you carrying me out of the museum,” She said back in a hushed tone, “I told them I was safe, that I fainted and you took me home.”

Layla’s eyes flicked between the two of them, her mind clicking as the voice on the other side of the door continued more forcefully, “They’re not real police officers,” She hummed quietly.

Steven and Dove looked at eachother. A look of panic passed between them as they shared the same thought; Shit.

“Marc said Harrow had connections all over,” She whispered back, watching as Steven reached for the multitude of locks slowly, if not to stop the fake officer from battering his door then to seem as though he were co operating.

“What are they looking for?” Layla asked, a moment of clarity snapping in Steven’s eyes as he reached into the gym bag he’d dragged from Marc’s storage locker. His hand emerged with the scarab, the same jewel he could have sworn had been plucked from his dream. Layla’s eyes widened, then narrowed at the man in question. “The scarab? What we fought side by side for? So this whole act was so you could run away with your mistress and keep it for yourself?”

“I am not-” The younger of the two started in a tone loud enough to have the officers stop their barrage on the door. Fearing they’d heard her, she huffed and started again, snatching the scarab out of Steven’s hands and turning to Layla, “I am not sleeping with your husband,” She breathed, “But the three of us are in serious trouble if they catch us with this, that’s what Marc said-”

“Yeah, I know,” Layla snapped, glaring at the woman who stared back with a now annoyed expression, “You might be new around here, but I know all about my own husband and his messes, thankyou,”

With the final growl, Layla wrapped a surprisingly strong hand around the girl’s forearm, dragging her to the open window.

“Woah! Woah- I know some things were said but throwing me out a window is a bit heavy, don’t you think?” She exclaimed, her feet sluggishly tripping over themselves as she followed the woman obediently.

Layla sucked her teeth, flashing her a death stare, “I’m not going to kill you, though I’ll wring your neck if you keep talking,” She snipped, pointing onto the ledge the roof offered as a place for them to hide, “Get out, they suspect something already, we’ll see where they take him and go from there,”

Flicking Steven, one last glance, he nodded for her to listen as he called to the ‘Detectives’ that he was complying with their orders.

Be careful, she wanted to say, please just be careful. Please don’t leave me alone.

I love you.

I spent all night worrying about you. Dreaming about you. I want you more than I wanted life again. I want you to know Seth can never have my soul no matter if I am his avatar because it’s not mine anymore, it's entirely yours. My heart that rots and withers beats for you. Not even to sustain this carcass I’m in, just for you.

Please don’t leave me.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t say a word less she’d risk their safety. Risk the scarab.

So she simply nodded back, and climbed out onto the slanted tiles.

drop a comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist! PERMANENT TAG LIST

@greeneyedblondie444 @liadamerondjarin @pedrosgirlx @andy-rocks @musicartmayheminmyheart @howlerwolfmax @ciarra–mae

MCU

@blackcat420

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

@shirukitsune @s-u-t

481 notes · View notes