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ancientgoddessofegypt · 5 months ago

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The 12th Houses - The Divine Naturalist.

Knowledge is power, and what most 12th housers understand is that power is infinite, and the knowledge that we seek comes from within. The 12th house is filled with divine experiences, making the person with this placement see things from a higher perspective. Something that most can never find for themselves, its truly a mystery here.

Sun in the 12th house : Impractical knowledge, things that don't make sense on a psychical matter making sense more in the imagination. Artistic souls who's only purpose is to share what the divine has given them since birth. Angels of light who go into the darkness for some time to receive an answer. Could have issues with family and friends because they can be too floaty for them sometimes. Always floating with the wind, always going nowhere but somewhere. They may not know everything, but they know the importance of being in the moment.

Moon in the 12th house: Connecting to a higher purpose, these people could be the seers of our generation. Having mercy for every little thing, every person, every plant, animal... etc. They have the compassionate nature of a deity. Some may even believe they are quite delusional with the way that they put their all into others, even excusing the behavior of some becomes we all have been there. All in all, they have an expression to them that attracts any and anybody to them, their love is unmatched.

Mercury in the 12th house: Intricate minds, very solitary individuals. Like to live alone and be isolated at times. You may not understand them from time to time, but it does not matter to them. Their mind has more than a million channels, and they operate into all of them. I feel as though these placements need time alone due to their mind always being on constant overdrive. I guess it's safe to say they could be their own book that is more than 300 pages. They have the tendency to know more than what they let on, due to the source within them giving them an explicit amount of knowledge all of the time.

Venus in the 12th house : Beautiful souls with a tendency to love deeper than what most can define. No one can truly match the depths of these beautiful minds, who's love wishes to touch the stars to be closer to the divine. Their love life can be tempting with allure, but their bodies can feel the uproar of something being close to home. Their not for everyone, and the way their love life is set up.. it can have them questioning why the Universe put them in certain situations. Could it be that they must go against the grain? Love will make you do crazy things, and they learn a lot about this everyday

Mars in the 12th house : Their psychic senses are always tingling. The power they are looking for is deep into the subconscious. I feel as if they are always fighting for themselves to pick up their weight while society pushes them to the side often.. They know exactly what they want, and as it is capable they have to sure work for it. Because even if its not in the present, it is somewhere in the future. Because if you can see it in your mind, you can bring it into fruition. Mars in the 12th house makes a difference because as they transform the mind, they transform themselves. It's like seeing a totally new person, because they looked into the heart to find what they need to change to be the person they have always wanted to become. They always knew they could do it if they were to try.

Jupiter in the 12th house - They have a powerful connection to the ancestors, their spirit guides and the universe overall. They see things in a much more profound way than people let on. You might think their crazy, but baby let me tell you they are in 2050 while everyone is stuck in 2024! They have the tendency to know things by either looking it up or solving the clue on their own. Potentially they can lose their own minds because the world is farther behind, not being able to grasp the knowledge of everyday life even when its being practically handed to us. At some point, they tend to hide what they know and shares it with a familiar group, ones that knows the type of people they are and want to learn more of the fruits of nature that the Gods have given us. Ask your jupiter 12th house frined what is something out of this world that they know and watch your entire idea of life change in one sitting.

Saturn in the 12th house - Spiritual connections come in very interesting ways for this group. They naturally run with authority, they just don't see it yet. They have an understanding that things take time. And although they may not get it now, when they are much older they will see that everything was planned the way it was supose to be, and not the way they wanted it to be. They have the gift of seers from many moons ago, and they have the direction and path lined up for them by their ancestors and spirit team. They just need to know which lane to pick. Let go of control if you have this placement, you have no idea where things could lead.

Pluto in the 12th house - In a deep dark pool of webs, you will find the most intriguing persons here. They know so much about the darkness, it may shock you. Since they were a child, they have had a lot of psychic experiences. And as they grew, this could have surprised so many others to the point that the 12th houser has rejected their role in being all knowing. With this placement, they have to go against the grain. Looking within the psyche to accomplish what most never see coming, and it's to have full control cover their consciousness. They have integrity enough to keep going, even when things are bouncing out the wall. But they never give up on themselves, there is always room for self-transformation.

Neptune in the 12th house - Creators, Muses, Great thinkers. Very in control of their inner world, its just that others may give them a hard time. They are always on cloud nine. Very patient with themselves because the world tells them to speed up. Can be super creative when you lock them in a room by themselves. They will take you into a museum that connects to their soul, you'd want to know more about them the longer you stay with them. To have this placement is to know that there is something much bigger than ourselves out there. They live a life full of inspiration.

Uranus in the 12th house - Unique individuals who take the time to create inventions far past their peers level of thinking, and I mean that gracefully. They have the capacity to see beyond what the world sees at such a young age. The universe connects them to the akashic records of information so that they can be ahead of time. Can fulfill a leadership role if they find themselves in a predicament where others won't take the lead, they'll have you thinking about things in a totally different way. Can be seen as the crazy-heads of the world but they aren't so crazy once you get to know them. Have mercy on them, they have so many ideas, philosophies and knowledge tied into their tiny brains it will almost make anyone seem insane. Just enjoy the rollercoaster that their brains make us feel, its a ride of your life.

I hope you all enjoy !

#astrology thoughts #astrology theories #astrology #12th house #astrology observations #tropical astrology #astro observations #spirituality #vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #vedic astro observations #vedic chart

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the--firevenus · 9 months ago

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The ocean and her favourite

Or Jupiter and his deity, a tiny collection

#venus rambling #firevenus art #firevenus ocs #Jupiter Mercy #OCS LORE BABYYYY #Also the first drabble is the wip I made a year ago omg 😭😭😭#I love my son so muchh

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transingthoseformers · 3 months ago

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I like to imagine tfa Optimus using naivety and purity as a way to lure other bots in thinking that they get to frag and corrupt an innocent, almost prudish mech. But in reality, he has a libido the size of Jupiter with stamina to match and will drain whatever unlucky bot he trapped onto his berth. Elita and Sentinel used to keep bots away for their sake rather than Optimus'. (This may or may not be from experiencing it themselves)

Years later on Earth, some scenario leads to Optimus getting captured by the Decepticons and his team, while rescuing him, expect to bust into their base to see Optimus at Megatron's mercy. Only to see Blitzwing and Lugnut passed out while Optimus riding a dazed Megatron hard enough to cause the ground to quake and yelling things along the lines of 'Come on, Old Mech! Is this all you got? I'm not even breaking a sweat yet, and your best couldn't even handle me!'

Optimus notices his shocked team and doesn't even stop when he tells them to wait outside for a second, he's almost done.

Ohhhhh??

Interesting interesting

Oh Optimus

Wonder how Optimus talked them into that :)

Tfa Optimus is spicier than people expect

NOOO BECAUSE THIS SUGGESTS HIS TEAM DOESN'T KNOW

Bumblebee is shooketh

Op has some serious stamina

#valveplug #tfa optimus prime #tfa sentinel prime #tfa elita one #tfa lugnut #tfa blitzwing #tfa megatron #tfa bumblebee #Megop #blitzop #lugop #interesting interesting

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pinknightsinmymind · 2 years ago

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thinking of abby whispering sweet nothings to you while you’re deep throating her strap.. I need to be sedated.

【 look so pretty from up here - abby anderson | NSFW 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

content: porn without plot, farmer!abby, established relationship, wife!abby x wife!reader, slight dom/sub dynamics, size kink bc abby likes towering over you when you're on your knees, strap-sucking, strap-on usage(r!receiving), face-fucking kinda, clitoral stimulation(r!receiving), slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, breeding kink, calling the strap a dick/cock, use of pet names(baby, love, honey, etc.), maybe some SLIGHT masochism, okay some cervix-kissing for fun, aftercare

a/n: oh anon you're a genius. so um this took me a while to write lmao. ik you didn't ask for it but you're getting farmer!abby with this so pls enjoy. this au was inspired by @jupiter-va and their farmer audios and something me and @moodywyrm came up with one fateful, summer day. anyways, i hope you enjoy it!

Abby’s eyes never once left you as you began to kneel on the wooden flooring in front of her. She could feel her breath shortening as she watched your knees touch the floor, the way your eyes glistened when you looked up at her. She’s feeling drunk already, so enraptured with the way you looked obeying and submitting to her so easily. Maybe she had planned this out starting earlier today when she saw you cooking in the kitchen, saw how hard you were working, and the only thing on her mind was pleasing you all night. And maybe she already had her strap waiting underneath her sweatpants for you. She grabbed onto the waistband and pulled them down her legs, and your eyes widened when her strap was revealed to you.

Abby was looking down at you from where she stood now, and you loved the way she looked. You loved looking up at her, the position on your knees creating a delicious power dynamic. She towered over you immensely like this, and it made you feel so overpowered. You felt like you were at her mercy, and that’s what made the throbbing between your legs so intense. She wasn’t going to fuck you just yet, something you both knew, but what Abby also knew was just how much you got off on sucking her strap. You loved every second of it, loved the way she felt in your mouth.

It’s not like she’d feel it—unless she had one of those days where she had a case of phantom dick, then maybe she would—but, God, did you love to act like she could. The way you looked with your lips wrapped around her strap was obscene, and she could never get enough of it. The sight, the sounds you made, the way you loved being teased, it all overwhelmed her. It made her dizzy, her mind hazy with power and all the things she wanted to do to you. Sometimes when her days didn’t go right, or if she had a difficult time during planting season, she liked to take it out on your throat. It made for a good stress relief, especially when she got to fuck your cunt afterwards knowing her strap was covered in your spit.

Abby was prodding your lips with her strap now, watching how your eyes widened at the sight of her before you. She knew you were getting wet from just this alone, knew the filthy thoughts going through your head with each passing second.

“C’mon. Open up,” she ordered. You did as she said, and she nearly moaned from the sight of your lips wrapped around her strap alone. You slowly swirled your tongue around the tip, then kissed it a little afterwards. You licked up the side of her strap’s shaft, looking directly into Abby’s eyes as you did so. “Fuck,” she hissed. She couldn’t help it. You knew what you were doing, knew the perfect moments to look her in the eyes, knew just what it took to drive her crazy. After teasing her a bit, you returned your lips to the head of her strap and started taking it into your mouth. The tip isn’t hard to take—it never is—but it’s when you start taking in more of it that the challenge starts. Abby’s filling your mouth up, taking over your senses, as her cock sinks in and you’re brought closer and closer to her pelvis. Her hand rests gently at the top of your head as she helps guide the strap deeper into your mouth. “Jus’ like that,” she breathed. Seeing the way her strap has almost completely disappeared into your mouth was making her breaths get shallow. You were looking up at her the entire time with wide eyes as she sheathed herself deeper and deeper into your mouth. You were almost there, almost had all of it in your mouth, and Abby was growing increasingly impatient. She just wanted to jerk her hips already, to grab onto your hair and give you what you both wanted, but she needed to hold on. She needed you to get adjusted before she could do just that.

The seconds that passed were dripping heavily with anticipation until she was finally where she wanted to be. Her strap was all the way down your throat, the tip of your nose almost pressing against her mons pubis. She heard a small gag followed by a whimper leave your mouth. She found herself rubbing her thumb across your cheek following the sound.

“It’s alright, baby, you can take it. You can take it, right?” she teased. You pathetically tried to nod your head, but she knew just from the desperate look in your eyes that you could. “Yeah, I know you can. You’re gonna take me down that pretty throat of yours, right?” She stroked your cheek so softly as she watched you, and she didn’t miss at all how you squeezed your thighs together. “I want you to suck it yourself before I give you what you want, so you better start now.” The words had barely left Abby’s mouth before you were bobbing your head on her strap, taking her into your throat so deeply with each movement. The cries and gags leaving your mouth were so addictive to Abby, and she found herself groaning in unison with them. There was drool leaking down the sides of your lips, tears brimming your eyes already, and Abby was so in love with the sight.

“Look at that,” she gasped. “Takin’ me so good. Yeah, take it, baby. Look so good with your pretty lips around me.” You grabbed onto Abby’s thighs to ground yourself as you deep throated her strap, so content to have her so far into your mouth. You moaned a little at the feeling of her touching the back of your throat, another gag leaving your lips. Abby felt so overwhelmed, and she was so close to just grabbing your hair and fucking your face. She hissed when you looked up into her eyes after taking her into your mouth again. The friction was just enough to rub against her clit every once in a while, and it felt so good. Fuck it, she thought. She couldn’t help herself anymore, and she had been patient long enough.

She grabbed onto your hair and began to glide your mouth up and down her strap. She was groaning even more now, loving the way you surrendered almost immediately. The noises leaving your lips were so dirty, but she loved every single one like the notes of a melody. Your hands had released their grip on her thighs, which allowed her to move you even more freely like she wanted.

“Fuck, baby, jus’ like that. Love takin’ my cock down your throat, huh? Love when I fuck your face like this?” Abby heard a moan leave your lips, and at first she thought it was one of the typical ones you made while sucking her strap, until another one left your lips. And another. And then a whimper. Abby looked down, and noticed immediately the hand you slipped underneath the waistband of your panties. She felt her arousal shoot through her body, her pleasure intensifying in seconds. “You’re gettin’ off on this?” she asked. This wasn’t news to her, as you usually did get off when the two of you did this, but seeing and hearing you touch yourself as she was down your throat always drove her crazy. “Yeah, keep doin’ that, baby. Touch yourself all you want while you take me. You deserve it for bein’ so good, for lettin’ me use you like this.” The harness was still rubbing against her clit, and everything about this moment was just bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Your knees were hurting as the wooden flooring dug into them, but you didn’t care. You’d stay here for as long as it took, no matter how many tears fell down your face. The pain made it feel good—better, even—as you kept circling your clit. The pleasure Abby felt was unmatched, and seeing how teary your eyes were encouraged her to keep bucking her hips. She was moaning uncontrollably, so taken by every moment of this.

“Want you to cum from sucking me off,” she moaned. “Can you do that? Huh? Will you do that for me, princess?” She didn’t need you to say anything else because she knew you would. You were always so good for her, and she could tell by the choked moans leaving your lips that you were getting closer. “Jus’ take me for a li’l while longer, baby,” she breathed. “I’m almost there.” She was thrusting her hips into your mouth so messily, unable to keep her cool in the face of her release. The pleasure shooting through her body was hot as it pooled in her stomach, clouding her brain the closer she was to the verge of cumming. With a few more thrusts, she found herself moaning loudly as soon as her climax hit her. It was intense, and her hips slowed down as it washed over her and her body. She felt so, so good, unable to speak as her mind went blank. You were still fucking yourself in the midst of all this, feeling yourself getting needy and desperate from watching your wife cum. You knew how close you were, quickening your pace to reach it faster. Abby’s hips finally stilled, and she pulled her strap out of your mouth. Seeing as Abby had just finished her climax, you knew she would soon turn her attention towards you, so you removed your hands from your panties. Abby, however, noticed this immediately, and didn’t seem to appreciate it.

“Uh-huh. What are you doin’?” She crouched down to be at your level. “Did I say you could stop? I want you to finish.” You looked into her eyes as you returned your hands to their previous place, the moans leaving your lips almost immediately. You’d be good. You’d be good just for her, finding yourself only encouraged further with the way her eyes were boring into you. You never thought you’d be so into Abby watching you like this, but it made all the bliss you felt that much more intense. “Tell me how good you feel, love,” she instructed, caressing your face so gently.

“I feel so good,” you whimpered. Your voice was raspy as you spoke, but you didn’t care. The fire in your stomach was so intense with the way Abby stared into your eyes, the way she looked your body up and down. “I like that you’re watching me.” You could barely get the words out as you moaned, your orgasm building and building.

“You like that I’m watchin’?” she repeated. “God, you’re dirty, but you’re so perfect. Perfect jus’ for me.” She kissed your cheeks that were wet with tears, her lips skirting over your skin with her warmth. Her kisses traveled from your cheeks to your neck, sucking on the skin and leaving behind purplish-red marks. You were close, and you were just about to cum, until Abby grabbed onto your wrist.

“Abs, I was gonna—”

“I know you were,” she said cockily, “that’s why I stopped you. How about I take over? Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you answered.

“Take my hand, then,” she said in a low voice, “and put me where you want me.” Her hand was warm as you took it into yours, leading it past the waistband of your panties and placing it on your clit. You spread your legs wider to accommodate her and so she could have better access to your cunt. “So wet,” she whispered, before finally circling her fingers around you. She chuckled when she heard the desperate whines leaving your lips. You could feel yourself getting closer again from just her touch. Your body was heating up, your orgasm building and building as you grinded against Abby’s fingers. It wouldn’t take much more for you to cum. “Don’t even worry about askin’ for my permission,” Abby spoke up. “You’ve been so good for me, so cum when you’re ready.” Her words just spurred you on, encouraging you to reach your orgasm faster.

“Fuck,” you swore. Abby’s touch was electric, and she was touching you just right. You could feel the fire was close to consuming you. Just a few more, and—You could feel yourself cumming then and there. Your moans were loud and desperate as your orgasm overcame you, unable to control them when you were cumming so hard.

“Yeah?” she asked teasingly. “Jus’ like that. Jus’ what I wanted from you, honey.” When you finally came down, Abby removed her hands from your panties and licked her fingers. “Did so good for me, love.” She gave your lips a soft peck. A devious smile spread across her lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” Her fingers grabbed onto the waistband of your panties, toying it between her fingers, pulling it away from your skin before letting it go again. “Tell me you want it. You want me inside you?”

“Abby, please. Don’t tease me. I just wanna feel you so bad.” Your hand gripped onto her forearm as you looked at her with pleading eyes. You couldn’t handle her teasing anymore.

“It’s alright, baby, I got you. Let me get you in bed.” Abby stood up and without any effort pulled you to your feet with her. You got onto the bed without hesitation and let your body rest against the soft covers and pillows, a nice reprise in comparison to the hard, wooden floors. The bed dipped underneath Abby’s weight as she joined you shortly after, her hands reaching out to grab onto your panties. You lifted your hips up to help her pull them down your body, and once she had them off you, she deftly climbed over your body. She was hovering over you as she pulled your t-shirt off next, kissing all the way up from your stomach to your lips. As she kissed you, you could feel her fingers running through your folds before inserting two of them inside you. You gasped into her mouth at the suddenness, but not before long you were moaning instead. She was rocking them inside you so good, filling you up and relishing in your wetness. “Fuck, took me so easily,” she whispered. “I think you’re ready for my cock. What d’you think?”

“I’m ready, Abs. Just put it inside me.”

“You sound so desperate, baby, but it’s okay. I always give you what you want, don’t I?” She pulled her fingers out of you, but not before grabbing onto her strap and lining it up with your entrance. You placed your hands on her shoulders, feeling Abby slowly thrust her way into you. Abby made eye contact with you as she did so, her hips getting closer to yours the farther she sunk into you. She could see your face twisting from the intrusion, and she was careful not to hurt you. All she wanted was for you to feel good. Finally, her hips were flush against yours, her strap all the way inside you. She let out a sigh at the feeling, feeling herself get turned on at the thought of thrusting inside you.

“Are you ready for me to move?” she asked, and you nodded. “I shouldn’t have to remind you. Words, love.”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Need to feel you.”

“I got ya, baby, don’t worry.” She started moving her hips against yours, and you found your arms wrapping around her neck in response. Her thrusts were slow and steady, but they had the right amount of force to knock the breath out of your lungs. She was dragging against your walls just right, the tip of her cock hitting just the right spot. Everything she did was just right. You couldn’t help the cries leaving your lips at how good you felt. “I know, I know,” she comforted you, emphasizing each of her words with another slow, languid thrust. She felt so good inside you, filling you up just like she’s needed all day. “Feels good, doesn’t it? I know it does. God, listen to the way you're moanin’ for me.” Abby couldn’t stop herself from talking to you like this, so overwhelmed from how amazing it was to pleasure you like this. She was obsessed with the way you took her so easily, the feeling of your wetness on her thighs, the sounds you were making. Every aspect of it made her feel high, and it encouraged her to keep fucking you just like you deserved. She buried her face into your neck, close to your ear as she started whispering. “You’re so good for me. So, so good. Every part of you is so delicious, so beautiful to love. I love makin’ ya feel good. I’m so obsessed with it.” Abby’s words were rushed and delirious. Her mind was once again going blank.

“Abs,” you moaned. Your grip around her back was tightening with every thrust, and you couldn’t stop your hips from rocking back into Abby’s. “I love you, Abs.”

“I love you, too, baby. That’s why I’m gonna make you cum on my cock. You got that?”

“Yes, fuck,” you whimpered. You could feel Abby bottoming all the way out inside you again, obsessed with how much she filled you up.

“Jus’ wanna fill you up. God, I want you to have my kids.” Abby’s thrusts stuttered a little bit as she uttered those words, unable to contain herself at the thought of what she had just said. Her words made you feel on fire, and the idea of her doing what she said was making you even wetter. Within time, Abby regained the steady rhythm she had set, but not before delivering a particularly hard thrust, and you felt it hit your cervix. You whimpered in response, unable to contain yourself. She was starting to pick up her pace, the sound of her skin slapping against yours while she fucked you getting louder.

“Abby, oh, fuck, harder, harder,” you pleaded. You didn’t have to ask Abby twice as she was already doing as you asked, ramming her hips against yours just like you needed. With the newfound roughness of her thrusts, you could feel yourself getting closer. The gathering heat in your stomach was so delicious, and every time Abby’s strap entered you completely, you could feel it growing. She was satisfying you so well, bringing you close to an orgasm once again. Abby had begun kissing your neck, leaving behind wet kisses and licks in her wake. She knew how good she was making you feel, and with the state of your pathetic moans, she knew just how close you were. She wanted you to cum all over her, to make a mess all over the bed. She wanted to see just how good she made you feel.

“Close?” she teased.

“Hmm, yes, Abs, I’m so close.” You felt Abby hit your cervix again, and the strangled cry that left your lips had her smiling into your neck. She loved hearing you.

“Jus’ like that, pretty girl. Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me why you deserve to be filled with my cum.” Abby kept thrusting into you, hitting the spot you needed, and with one last thrust you felt yourself cumming. Your moans were loud—the kind that wouldn’t be allowed if you were still living in the city—but the best part of living on a farm is that there’s no one around to hear. That’s what Abby liked about it, too, because she could make love to you and make you scream from an earth-shattering orgasm whenever she wanted. “That’s it, that’s it,” Abby whispered. “Fuck, baby, you did so good for me.” Abby stayed inside you even after you came, letting you catch your breath and calm down before she moved. You eventually unwrapped your arms from around her neck, and that’s how she knew you were ready. She picked herself up from your body and slowly pulled the strap out of you. It was covered in your juices, and a small sigh left her lips as she stared at it.

“How good?” you joked. She laughed as she looked at you.

“So good you wouldn’t believe,” she replied. “I know you must be tired, so I’m gonna make you some tea, okay? Jus’ get in bed and wait for me.” She gave you a quick peck on the lips before getting up from the bed.

“Thanks, Abs,” you said. She smiled.

“Anytime. Now let me go make that tea.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader smut #tlou x reader

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anyarose011 · 9 months ago

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You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Four days into being stuck in an all boy's school for Christmas break, and you're on the brink of insanity. If it's not because of Angus Tully still trying to one up you in history lessons, then it's Teddy Kountze getting a hand on something personal of yours (prick).

Part 2 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, mentions of pornography, blackmail, minor physical assault, and as always, Teddy Kountze.

You guys don't get to escape being an awkward af teenager just because it's fanfiction, so enjoy! Also, thank you all so much for the love already shown just from the first part alone!

Word Count: 5.0k

youtube

You always knew to put a pillow over your head when you heard your father get up from his bed.

“All right you fetid layabouts, it’s daylight in the swamp!” He smacked two metal basins against each other, waking the boys up if they weren’t already, groaning. “Arise!”

It was funny the first day, but by the fourth, it was unbearable. Still, a part of you was grateful for your father; you never had to get up early and run with the boys in the cold, Massachusetts air. Call it nepotism, call it sexism, you were just glad he didn’t want you to interact with them (physically, that is).

The second day you were there, he called you in during afternoon study hall (leaving you on a minor cliff hanger in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre; forget that it was your third time reading it, it pissed you off). Just like he had done months ago, Paul Hunham hosted a trivia game (whether that was to show you off, or get them to study, you had no idea).

What idea you did have, was beating every single one of them.

For Alex and Ye-Joon, they were babies in your eyes, so you would give them more time to think on their answers whenever they were up. Alex got close on one, but overall, they didn’t do so well.

Oh, the boys your age? Yeah, you didn’t show mercy, even towards Jason.

“When was the last king overthrown?” Your father questioned.

You smacked the desk before Jason could even process the question. “509 B.C.”

“What planets are named after Roman gods?”

“Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.” You recited it perfectly.

Teddy scrunched his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

Your father pursed his lips. “That was the easiest one I have, Mr. Kountze.”

Angus Tully…Angus. Fucking. Tully.

“What emperor temporarily restored peace to Rome and the cost of-?”

Angus hit the desk before your father could finish the question. “-Diocletian.”

“At its peak,” your father eyed you. “how large was the Roman Empi-?”

“2.3 million square miles.” You answered, keeping your eyes trained on Tully.

“Nero had five spouses in total, what was the name of the slave boy he-?”

“-Castrated and married,” you finished for him. “Sporus.”

Back and forth you both went like that, rapid fire at first, and your own levels of exhaustion were catching up to you. After perhaps five minutes of this (maybe ten, twenty, who gives a shit, you were tired), it was one damning question that would haunt you.

“True or false, the Pantheon was built before the Coliseum.”

“True.” You said, slapping the desk with the confidence of a mediocre man.

There was silence in the room, and your father sighed. “False.”

It wasn’t a big deal, it shouldn’t have been a big deal; to literally everyone else but you, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was.

Oh, it was.

It was the second time you lost to Angus Tully overall, the first time from an easy question. Still, while Kountze’s grin made you want to rip out his teeth, it was Tully’s outstretched hand that caused you to snap out of it.

“Good job.”

Two of the most hurtful words in academia, whether it meant for it to be or not. Still, swallowing your pride, you shook his hand, and left the room gracefully.

Then started crying as you walked down the darkened hallway.

It wasn’t like you were weeping, you were just frustrated. Thankfully, by the time your friend Elise came to pick you up, you were fine and had a fun day simply walking around town with her.

You bought cigarettes and chocolate at the drug store, then spent the rest of the day at her house, laying on the floor and listening to records in her room while answering her prodding questions.

“Who’s the cutest one?”

“None, they’re men.”

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes, smiling. “I know that, but if you had to choose.”

“Like, ‘if we were the last man and woman on earth’ I had to choose?”

“Sure.”

“A very tall bridge.”

She laughed, shoving you playfully. “I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

“Really.”

Sighing heavily, you thought for a moment, before smiling. “He’s a football player.”

“What?!” She sat herself up. “You and a football player?!”

“Shut up!” You laughed with her, sitting up.

Elise shook her head. “What about the one you went head-to-head with in trivia today?”

“Ew,” was your immediate reaction. “he’s maybe your type, but not mine.”

“So, you don’t want a smart one?” She questioned. “And that’s mean of you.”

“I’m mean to everyone.” You laid back down on the floor. “And yes, of course I want someone who’s smart, but not smarter than me.”

She mirrored you, laying down and leaning her head against yours. “So, he’s out for the count?”

“One hundred percent.”

“If you say so.” Elise reached up onto her nightstand and handed you a letter. “Also, my aunt left something back at the faculty housing and said she found this in you and your dad’s mailbox.”

You looked at your name in the center of it, and then at the stamp: a toy train.

It took everything within you not to sit up in shock. All you did was smile, say thank you, and slip it into your coat pocket.

You gave Tully his chocolates and cigarettes and didn’t have a problem. It was the fourth day when your father had given them just another ounce of freedom outside of the school, allowing them to walk around the wooded area of campus. You still had your books, but you were also feeling lonesome (the only time you really interacted with any of them was during mealtimes, except for Teddy…fuck Teddy), and you had talked about almost every single thing you wanted to talk about with Mary (God bless that women for letting you read to her too).

So, on December 20th, you laced up your boots (not too tightly), pulled on your mittens, and zipped up your jacket to go on a miniature adventure with the five boys.

“I’m gonna teach you how to play football.” Jason teased you as the six of you walked two by two (you and him at the front).

Shaking your head, you smiled more so at the thought of what you’d look like than his obvious flirting (was he even flirting or just being nice? Decades pass, and you still aren’t sure). “Please no.”

“Come on, it’s easy.”

“Roman history is easy.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not; you’re just smart.”

“It’s easy to me. Football is easy to you, see what I’m getting at?”

Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself, Teddy?”

“Say no more.” He responded, brushing past you and running up ahead as Jason threw the football to him and he caught it.

That left you by yourself for just a moment before seeing Angus walk beside you. You turned your head over your shoulder to see Ye-Joon and Alex lagging behind as they talked.

“Boys,” you called them. “try and keep up!”

They responded with a chorus of ‘Yeah’s and ‘Sorry’s.

“So what, you’re like their mother now?” The second most irritating voice belonging to a boy asked.

You looked over at Angus, hands in his pockets as he gazed down at you. “You’re not exactly the nurturing type.”

“You don’t know that.”

Humming, you stepped over a log in the middle of the path. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Jason’s here because of his hair, Alex and Ye-Joon’s family are in other continents, I don’t care nor want to know about Teddy, why are you here?”

He didn’t respond right away, before then saying. “I was supposed to go to St. Kitt’s with my mom and stepfather, but then they decided to say it was their honeymoon and ditch me.”

Your gaze turned to him and saw him pick up a stick, dragging it behind him to make a line in the snow. Even just from his profile, you could see the anger withing his eyes; bubbling more violently than a volcano about to erupt.

“That’s despicable.” You stated plainly.

“That’s one way to put it.” He scoffed.

You didn’t know exactly how to follow up such a personal conversation, but you wanted to make him feel better (at this point during the break, only because it was the decent thing to do), so you just said.

“You beat me fair and square both times.”

Angus looked at you. “Did I? At your dad’s bullshit trivia?”

“You did. Well actually, it was just me versus five of you, and I do believe the more I talk to Kountze, the more braincells I lose, so-.”

“-Don’t sell yourself short.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “I know, I was just telling you why I lost to you both times.”

He shrugged. “The first time you had to go against fifteen of us.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, genuinely not believing it. “are you suddenly saying that you think I’m smart?”

“I never said you weren’t.” He gave you a look.

“Last time, you looked me in the eye and said you knew more than me.”

That’s what silenced him, and when he nor you said anything after that, you simply walked ahead of him. Hell yeah, you had the last word and made him feel like an asshole (you honestly didn’t know that was possible).

The six of you all caught up with one another, and you spoke with the freshmen boys more about meaningless things (but perhaps that’s what made it so meaningful). Angus, still carrying the stick like he was a child, and it was his favorite toy, said to Jason after talking about if there was anything else to do in Barton.

“What about your car? We could take it, go somewhere, Boston maybe?”

“Nah, we’d get in so much trouble.” He shook his head, nudging you. “Little miss perfect here would snitch on us.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I would not. Besides, it’d be easier to say you all kidnapped me, and everyone would believe me.”

“Face it,” Jason passed the football back to Teddy. “we’re stuck.”

“If we just had some way to get out of here.” Angus kicked a patch of snow. “Just split.”

Jason pointed towards the quad. “Well, you could put a chopper down right in the quad.”

“A what?” Angus furrowed his brow.

“Helicopter, dumbass.” Teddy mocked. “His old man’s the CEO of Pratt and Whitney.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, he’s go his own bird. He takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our back yard. Pilot’s name is Wild Bill.”

“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon asked, amused.

“Yeah, flew to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me.”

“Flying with presents,” Alex spoke up. “like Santa Claus.”

That was perhaps the first time you smiled out of geniuses that day.

“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”

Jason whistled, and Teddy immediately dashed ahead of him and caught the ball once Jason threw it. The two drifted off playing catch, leaving you and Angus with the freshmen. Alex spoke just as whimsically as he did about Santa.

“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar.”

Ye-Joon smiled. “That sounds really nice.”

You nodded. “During finals week, I helped Mary and the other cooks bake cookies for you guys. I still think that’s one of my favorite smells of all time.”

“You helped out with that?” Angus asked.

Dropping your smile, you said. “Yeah, and if I knew which one you’d have taken I would’ve spat in it.”

Before he could even come up with a response, Teddy ran up to Alex and yanked the glove off his right hand. “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for ratting me out, you little Mormon!” He laughed before throwing it into the river.

You marched up to him immediately. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Like, what the actual fuck?”

Teddy only stuck his tongue out like a child before running back to catch up with Jason. A part of you (somehow) foolishly believed he would’ve berated Teddy for the obviously asshole act; but he didn’t.

Rolling your eyes, you went down to the river with Alex, hopefully trying to find the glove and be able to fish it out. Though, to no avail, you couldn’t find it.

“It’s gone!” He yelled back up to Angus and Ye-Joon. “My glove’s gone!”

“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose!” Angus responded. “Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more.”

Alex looked down at his hands before tugging off the other glove and throwing it into the river as well. You glared at Teddy as he had a fun time, still laughing and throwing the ball with Jason. Sighing, you looked back down at Alex and pulled off your mittens, handing them to him.

“Here.”

He glanced up at you before staring back out at the water, rubbing his nose. “I don’t need them.”

“Your fingers are frailer than mine.” You continued even when he gave you a look. “That’s not an insult, that’s a fact. It’s alright, I have pockets.”

Alex, after a moment of debating, took them from you and slipped them on, smiling. “Thanks.”

The six of you were on your way back to school when you felt someone slip their hand into your coat pocket.

“Now what do we have here?”

You turned on your heel, seeing Teddy’s face light up as he waved the letter in his hand. Your face dropped, along with your voice.

“No!”

Immediately, you began to chase him around the small, snowy clearing as if you were a dog and he was a car.

“Theodore fucking Kountze, give that back!” You commanded.

He ripped open the envelope. “Or what, Hunham? You’re gonna tell your dad on me?”

“Just give her the letter, idiot.” Angus rolled his eyes.

Of course, Kountze ignored him, taking the letter out, and money falling from the paper. That’s when he stopped in his tracks and so did you. For the first time since…a while, you were frozen, and you had no idea why.

The rest of the boys caught up to you two, and Teddy picked up the money that fell from the letter; a twenty, a ten, and a five-dollar bill. After the initial shock wore off, he read the letter aloud to everyone.

“‘My dearest girl, how are you? It’s been a while, and I just want to know what you’ve been up to. Merry Christmas, here’s my gift to you. From, Daniel. P.S. Please send another picture of you if you could.’”

Shame crept in like a shaking animal from the cold, and you couldn’t even look at any of them. Still, that didn’t stop Teddy from taunting you; hell, it probably spurred him on.

“The hell kind of business are you running if you got a someone paying you thirty-five bucks?” He laughed, looking back at the guys. “You think she’s in a skin mag or something?”

“Hey, man, shut up.” Jason rebuked.

“No, I’m serious. They take pictures without showing the face sometimes.” He looked at you now. “Which one is it? Penthouse? Modern Man?”

“Leave it, Kountze.” You hissed, not looking at him.

Teddy laughed. “Don’t tell me it’s Playboy; you?”

“Are you fucking deaf?” Angus asked. “She told you to cut it out.”

“Piss off Tully, you probably saw her tits this morning in study hall.”

You whipped your head around and couldn’t control the face you made; to this day, you still have no idea if it was pure rage, a form of betrayal, or both at once. Still, you watched as how Angus avoided your gaze like he’d done something wrong; he did, but still. Teddy opened his disgusting mouth to speak again.

“Shit, if I were to line up every girl in Barton, you would’ve been the very last one I-.”

“-I’ll let you take the picture.”

All eyes were back on you, and you looked right at Teddy’s; once confident and sly, now widened with surprise. Who knew it would take just six words for him to shut up?

“What?” Was all he responded.

You swallowed thickly, clutching your hands into fists to keep yourself calm (and to not cry). “I’ll let you take the picture of me, but we have to be alone, and you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone else; especially my father.”

This was not what you had envisioned or wanted to happen on your first outing with them away from the adults in your life. You prayed to whatever god above, Christian, Roman, Greek, Buddhist, it didn’t matter, you prayed that Teddy would grow a brain and take the deal.

“Alright.” Was all he said, shrugging with an excited smile on his face that made your skin crawl.

You nodded. “I’ll take my letter and money now.”

He tilted his head, walking closer to you. “Please.”

Taking a deep breath, you said. “Please.”

Teddy’s grin only deepened, then handed you your things. “You know, Hunham, maybe you’re not a total prude after-.”

Your fist met his eye, and the both of you stumbled backwards; him clutching his face, you your hand. Needless to say, you were both cursing. Still, you managed to gather your bearings and push him over.

“Fucking bastard.” You spat before trying to make a run for it.

Teddy grabbed your left foot, causing you to fall into the snow, your teeth sinking into your lip once you hit your chin on impact of the ground. You struggled, then managed to quickly wiggle out of your boot before getting back up and running like a girl (anyone would run like a girl if they were being chased by a man like Teddy Kountze).

You honestly have no idea how he didn’t catch up to you at the time, but you were on the steps of the main building when you turned back. There they were, just five, not-so-little specks that stood out across the valley of pure white snow. It was only when you slowed down did you notice how cold your left foot was. Your sock was dripping wet from the snow, and you then pulled off your other boot, leaving it on the stairs before entering the school.

Taking a deep breath once you closed the door, you wiped your mouth; specks of blood colored your hand, but thankfully, not that much. Sighing, you walked through the halls of the school, trying to make your way back to the infirmary and hoping that your father wasn’t there.

You ran into Mary instead (a fate worse than death).

“Where are your shoes?” Was the first thing she asked once she saw you in the main hall (you got lost; hey, you’d only been there a few times in the past, don’t be too hard on yourself).

You shrugged, smiling. “We were playing a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“Hide and seek tag.” you leaned against the wall, hands in your coat pockets. “First one to get to the school wins, I hid my shoes under a bush, so they thought I was there, and I made a run for it.”

“You take a fall then? Your mouth’s bleeding.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never slipped on ice?” You managed to joke.

She arched her brow, placing her hands on her hips. “Do you know how long I’ve known you?”

It actually took you a few moments to think back on it; it felt like you’ve known her longer, but no. “Since I was nine?”

“And do you think, in the last eight years, I haven’t been able to tell if you’re a bad liar or not?”

“…Well, am I?”

“Did one of those boys put their hands on you?” She asked the question you both knew was coming. “Was it that shitass Kountze?”

Even with it being a serious question, you laughed (both from surprise and discomfort). “Well like, you should see the hands I put on him. Mary, we were just playing, it’s fine.”

The main door opened before she could say anything else, and you saw the same five boys walk in; Ye-Joon holding your boots. You smiled, approaching them as if nothing was wrong, and you took your shoes. “Thank you.”

He nodded, quickly looking away.

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” Mary spoke up behind you, and your heart dropped for a moment as well as all of their faces. “I get that you were playing a game, but you don’t need to be so competitive.”

They turned to one another, obviously confused about the whole thing (you were as well). Still, she continued. “Yeah, little miss Hunahm told me everything. Hide and seek, tag, I don’t care what it was, you all need to be just careful with each other. Poor girl over here took a fall, and I see you did too, mister Kountze.”

At his name, Teddy turned away. Angus spoke up. “We’ll be careful next time, miss Lamb.”

“Please, we’re on vacation; just Mary.” She looked at you. “You’re gonna help me with dinner later, right?”

“I will.”

“Good, stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.”

With that, Mary left through one of the doors leading to the teacher’s lounge. The moment she did, Teddy hissed at you.

“What the hell was that?!”

Rolling your eyes you said. “Didn’t you hear? We were playing a stupid game.”

“You mean you punched me in the face.”

“You blackmailed me into doing something I wouldn’t have wanted to do; we can keep going.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a-.”

“-A what?”

He stopped to your surprise, then changed his tone. “I just don’t think your father would be proud of the choices you’ve made.”

On one hand, damn, those words cut deep enough to almost make you bleed; but on the other hand…

“Are you gonna tell him?” You asked, trying not to sound like you gave a shit.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I mean, unless you’re gonna say sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You laughed. “Beating the shit out of you? You started it. Besides, who’s he going to believe?”

Silence was what you were met with. Even at the sight of his face, you only continued to grin. “Teddy, come on, you start ‘not fights’, we all know. It’s not a hard question, I thought you were smarter than this?”

He sighed. “You.”

“Exactly; you’re my bitch, Kountze.” You walked backwards, a little skip in your step. “Don’t you forget that.”

Turning away, you retreated to the infirmary, grabbing your books and escaping to the library in hopes of not having to see any of them for the rest of the day.

Men…so exhausting.

You managed to disappear into the world of The Yellow Wallpaper (not necessarily lighthearted reading, but it was still interesting) and a chapter of The Two Towers before Mary called you down to help with dinner.

After another strange but not so subtle comment from her (“You know you can be honest with me, right? I am with you.”), it was quiet between the both of you. That’s what you always loved with cooking and baking; the quietness, even if you were with one other person. You both just worked in tandem and it was almost frightening how you would both know to move out of the way of each other without saying a word.

Dinner was uneventful; somehow, your father hadn’t noticed the slight bruising on your lip, or Teddy’s eye (the color would probably start to show as days went on, but that was a future problem for you). Not one of the boys your age talked to you; even then, the freshmen kept to themselves a lot too.

So, it was quite a surprise to you, as there was “supervised leisure time” in the library, when Jason Smith sat across from you at the table.

“Hey.” He said softly.

You looked up from Jane Eyre. “Hello.”

“So…” He almost looked nervous (initially about what, you will never know). “you really gave Teddy shit today.”

Tilting your head to the side, you went. “Yeah? Well…he kind of threatened me.”

“No of course. Just…wow.” He chuckled. “You really held him off.”

Nodding, you honestly had no idea what to think. Was he complementing you? In shock? All you were doing was staying silent at this awkward exchange when he asked. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

“Just that, I can’t really read you right now. Did I say something weird?”

“No.” You shook your head, then said. “Well, yes. Sorry, I just…” You tried again. “Thank you, I think? But um…do you want me to be honest?”

“Sure.”

“I’m kind of…no, I am mad none of you stepped in. Maybe not mad but…I don’t know.”

“Well,” he began. “we told him to stop.”

“So did I, but he didn’t.” You wanted to say, but you only knew saying something true would make it worse (this is why you couldn’t be outnumbered by men; it’d make you scared). Instead, you settled on.

“I know, and thanks, but it still would’ve been nice for some help.”

He shrugged. “You seemed to have it handled.”

Six words you thought (and prayed) you’d never hear again; and he said them with a nonchalant shrug. As if, by now, he was already bored and annoyed with a conversation he had started. Perhaps you were reading too much into that last part, perhaps he didn’t mean to come off as callous; but he was still oblivious at the end of the day.

“Look,” he interrupted your overflowing mind when he saw how much it was affecting you. “if it helps, he tried to run after you when you punched him, but Tully and I held him back.”

You took a deep breath as his words sunk in. Then, you chuckled bitterly. “How nice of you to not let him beat me to a pulp.”

He shook his head. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Angry? Pissed off?”

“Irritational.”

Your jaw actually dropped. “What?”

He said your name, shaking his head and lowering his voice as if you both hadn’t been quiet already. “Look, Kountze is a dick, we know that. But come on, he said some horrible stuff, and you punched him. That doesn’t really add up.”

“…He threatened me.”

“You basically invited him to take a picture of you alone. I mean, yeah it was to bate him, but still.”

No further questions, you picked up your book and your jacket. Without another word and ignoring how he tried to call you back with a soft tone of voice as he said your name, you walked out of the library without another thought.

Your father asked you about it of course, but all you said was that Jason spoiled a book you were looking forward to reading. He believed you and wished you goodnight, leaving you to lie in your bed and be stuck in your thoughts until snoring reached your ears.

You waited a few more minutes before you stood up, gathering your blanket to wrap around you. As you walked down the hall, the nagging thought of ‘Do I even feel safe in there?’ invaded your mind when you only realized that you were going to be in a room with both Jason and Teddy. You were outside of the hall for longer than you would imagine, when you heard quiet voices on the other side of the wall.

“…I had an accident.”

“Yeah, you did. Shh, stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”

You had to cover your mouth from the unexpected line. How…strange it was to hear Angus Tully be this comforting. You heard the smaller voice again and heard that it was Ye-Joon.

“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends.” His voice broke at the end, and so did a piece of your heart.

Then, Angus with his words of wisdom, said. “Yeah, well, friends are overrated. I’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right? In the meantime, find a dry spot, and try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you.”

You gave it a few moments, still reeling over the gentleness of it all, before entering into the light of the infirmary room. You knocked lightly on the door frame not to frighten anyone.

Angus turned over his shoulder, and somehow didn’t jump when he saw you.

“Hi.” You greeted.

“Hey.” He responded, trying to act like his common, moody self.

You wanted to acknowledge what you heard; tease him (but not in an unkind way) about him being nice, ask him why, in the dead of night, was he like this and not in the daytime? Still, all you could manage was the basic.

“Is everything alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, just nightmares, you know.”

“No,” you shook your head, deciding to lighten and grace the room with your sarcasm. “I’ve never had one in my life.”

Angus seemed to catch on, and it surprised you greatly to see him actually smile. “Nobody likes a bragger.”

“So that’s why you don’t have any friends.”

…Too much; too much sarcasm.

Both of your smiles fell, and you wanted nothing more than to shrivel up like a leaf and die in front of him, then have someone sweep out the crumbs of your body and then them on fire in the snow before burying the ashes.

You still can’t believe you came up with that metaphor quicker before you could say. “I’m just gonna…”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

You scurried into the other room and under the covers of the bed. The fear of Teddy and Jason no longer was the thing keeping you up at night in that room; it was the worst possible thing you could’ve said to Angus Tully of all people.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers #mary lamb #teddy kountze #paul hunham #Youtube

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hopeastrz · 2 years ago

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𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:🦢🐚

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭!, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 😭

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐂 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 might give you a petite bone structure.

I think 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 indicates where and when you get your glow-up, for example 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 in your late teenage years, 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 in college.

Also your 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬/𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 tells you who you crush on the most, for example i have venus in Capricorn as i mentioned previously, my sun is in scorpio 10th house, and i indeed tend to gravitate toward scorpios and Capricorns the most.. it’s not even funny most of my anime lovers are Capricorns (Levi Ackerman, megumi fushiguro & toji😭 i need help)

With 𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬 you might trust your mothers choice in men the most, if she doesn’t agree with one you’ll literally dump him for her sake.

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧, no matter how much you deny it, you feel safe when you know that your boyfriend for example is financially stable, it’s important to you.

𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫, a beauty privilege placement especially if Jupiter is in libra or Taurus, your beauty is your luck in your career.

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 from my opinion is what you fear the most in your relationships, and in 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 you might fear marriage failure, romantic relationships failures in general, not being good enough.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬 do you have an attractive neck?

𝟏𝟐 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬, you have such a dreamy eyes, it’s on of the most prominent thing about you, especially if accompanied with scorpio or pisces placements.

𝐀𝐂 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧 gives you an image of confidence and bravery, even if it’s absent in real life. On the other hand people with 𝐀𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 might give you ‘damsel in distress’ kind of vibes.

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬?, untouchables. Their boundaries in love are so firm, it’s kind of hot tbh, they know their value, and they give this air of ‘don’t try to play me or you’ll become the ball in my hand’ kind of thing.. no mercy.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 might be late bloomers, since saturn represents delays.

#astrology observations #astrology aspects #astrology planets #astrology notes #astrology degrees #astrology houses #astro placements #astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astrotips #astro chart #persona chart #venus persona chart #persona chart observation

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angelpuns · 1 month ago

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50au Part 24

TW FOR VIOLENCE/FIGHTING/BRIEF CHOKING

Leo was having a hard time keeping up with….everything. Struggling to parse what was real and what wasn’t.

If he weren't in so much pain he'd wonder if those birds really had done him in and he wasn't lying in the med bay imagining all this. Alone and practically comatose.

But his leg and his head and everything ached too badly for it to be a dream or some kind of weird hallucination.

He wasn't sure his brain could make half this stuff up anyway.

Donnie and Mikey had explained everything to the rat, who had then promised to help. After he took a nap, of course.

Everyone seemed a little pissed off at that, but Leo was relieved. He already hated having to rely on a bunch of strangers that insisted they were family, he didn't want to add another into the mix. Even if he was Lou Jitsu ( which Leo really didn't believe that part of all this)

Hell, maybe Jupiter Jim was uncle and was really a snake or something.

The rest of the day was spent planning, for the most part.

Donnie figured out exactly when he seemed to reset and said it was a breakthrough, though Leo didn't know how exactly it would help. He was going to forget either way, and it wasn't as if they could prevent it happening. Until Donnie said he was going to have Leo stay up past that point and see if it made a difference.

Annoying, but Leo was at these guys’ mercy and all.

He did learn a lot throughout the day.

Mikey was a good cook. He was also the youngest. And even though he had this emotional maturity thing going, Leo could tell he was one wrong move from crying about this entire thing.

The big guy, Raph, was the oldest. And he was super over protective and kept treating Leo like he'd break. He also wasn't as touchy-feeling as Mikey, but Leo figured if was more because of the circumstances and that Raph would hug him til he popped if he had the chance.

Donnie was the really interesting one. They were twins, which Leo was guessing on based on a lot of context. Stuff from the montage, the way Donnie acted and the way he seemed to mumble ‘my Dumdum twin’ under his breath whenever he got the chance. He was really smart, too, Leo could barely keep up with half the stuff he talked about.

At first he thought Donnie might be the leader, but Raph seemed to be more in charge than he was letting on. But the dynamic was still weird. Mikey definitely wasn't the leader. Leo figured he couldn't have been, because what Leader would get himself shot with a curse and then run around avoiding his problems all the time? He definitely wasn't leader material.

Not that it mattered, because Raph had already told him they weren't going anywhere today.

There was also the issue of Baron Draxum, the villain that had thrown Leo off of a roof and overall was just an untrustworthy bastard. They all thought it was weird that he remembered Draxum, but Leo didn't trust the guy as far as he could throw him. He definitely wasn't family.

But he was helping them for some reason, and Leo was forced to let the yokai into his home to do so. Even if the thought made him want to be sick and made the panic and anxiety he'd been holding back all day simmer dangerously beneath the surface.

Baron Draxum was working on the cleansing salve and promised he was almost done, that they could do the ritual tomorrow. Leo didn't like the sound of Draxum doing anything with his head, much less going into his memories.

He brought it up with Donnie that night, while Donnie fixed the camera in the corner of his room.

“ Are we sure it has to be him? Don't you all have any other yokai family members that weren't literally evil….?” Leo muttered, huddled in the corner of his bed.

It was dark in the lair now. Everyone else had gone to sleep, while Donnie had Leo stay up so he could observe the resetting.

His thought was that, maybe if Leo didn't sleep, the reset wouldn't be able to happen. Even if it was time based.

“ Sadly, no. I would personally not love Draxum rooting around in your head either, even though I respect him as a fellow scientist and all,” Donnie answered, sitting on the edge of Leo's bed and prying apart the camera, “ but he's the only person we really know that can do all that mystic bullshit,”

“ This all would have been so much easier if it were some kind of clinical mishap. At least then you'd be showing progress at this point, and we could probably fix it with surgery or something,” he huffed, holding up the light, “ there. You're going to forget it's up there, but at least you won't get freaked out again by the light,”

Donnie started to put the camera back together with a sigh, still rambling.

Leo got the feeling it helped him calm down. Even though he didn’t really understand why, he was feeling slightly calmed by whatever Donnie was going on about. Even if he was having a hard time keeping up and his head throbbed.

“At least tomorrow we can do the ritual and put this all behind us. I've already got plans in case you somehow have lasting side effects, and of course a medical plan for your leg,” He clicked the last piece in place and headed to remount it to the wall, “ which you're obviously going to have to follow, Nardo. You were a terrible patient after the- when you got hurt, and we will not be having a repeat of that. I'm sure Dr. Feelings has his own plans about the emotional effects of all this and-”

Leo didn't have a chance to ask who Dr. Feelings was.

The world went silent, Leo slumping forward like-

Leo blinked awake, hunched over in the corner of his bed, his knees up to his chest. Someone was talking, but he must have just left his TV on, because who could possibly be talking?

He fumbled for the remote on his nightstand, blinking away the sleep and fiddling with the power button. But when he pressed it, the noises didn't stop. In fact, the TV turned on when he did that, the fuzzy static making him frown. He turned it back off.

Someone was talking. Someone was in his room.

In the corner of his room, in the dark, loomed a figure. They were tall and thin and shadowed, and Leo's first thought was that it was some kind of sleep paralysis demon. But he could move plenty, and his leg was starting to ache so badly that his knew he wasn't asleep.

Leo rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to clear them, focusing in on the figure with a grimace. Still tall and still shadowed, but less threatening when he saw a purple hoodie and the fact that the person was standing on a small step stool. At first he couldn't see what they were doing. But as they stepped down to admire their work, he understood. They were installing a camera.

In his room. Where he was sleeping.

To watch him and-and do know god knows what with the information.

Leo sat as still as he could, the figure suddenly turning to face him. They were a mutant like him, maybe even a turtle if he had to guess. Three fingers, green skin, a tail. No shell, as far as Leo could tell. Unless it was hidden well beneath the hoodie. But that didn't matter much, because all he could think was how someone could be in his room.

The figure stared at him for a moment, no longer rambling to themselves.

“ ‘Nardo, you okay?” They murmured, voice dropping to something closer to a whisper.

Leo swallowed down the rising panic, glancing around the room for his swords. They weren't here. He always kept them by his bed, so why weren't they…?

Leo turned back to the mutant. This guy must have hidden them. He must have planned this so that Leo couldn't fight back…couldn't run.

“ wh-who are you?” He asked, pieces of a plan starting to fall together. He had to fight. The mutant wasn't much bigger than him. He could fight, even if he was never good at hand to hand combat. He just had to lower this guy's guard first. If he could get him monologuing, then surely it'd be an easy fight.

“ what are you doing in my room?”

“ shit, did you reset?” they suddenly seemed panicked, quickly checking some sort of strange tech on their arm, “ I must have miscalculated, you weren't supposed to reset for another hour, at least-”

Now.

Leo launched himself off the bed and at the stranger, hands outstretched to grapple him. The mutant shrieked in surprise, and Leo took him to the ground easily.

It hurt his leg, bad, but he had to fight! He wasn't gonna let this guy get away with whatever evil surveillance shit he had planned!

“ ‘Nardo, stop- you've got to listen to me-” the mutant growled, teeth snapping dangerously at Leo's hands. He quickly grabbed their wrists and held them to the ground, far too relieved that the mutant didn't have a weapon on them, “ Leo-”

They kicked and twisted under him, but Leo was stronger. He quickly moved to straddle their legs, wincing when they kicked Hus injured one a little too hard.

“Fuck- WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOME!?” Leo growled, leg wound throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He held his position though, the mutant struggling against him.

“ L-Leo, it's me! I know you're confused, but I'm your brother” the mutant whined, hands clenching with the effort it was taking to fight him. They were a lot stronger than they looked, Leo straining to keep them from moving. “ Leo, please! Let-let me explain!”

They sounded scared. And terribly desperate.

It unexpectedly grated on Leo's nerves, a feeling like pity growing inside him. No, no he could not feel bad for this guy! A mutant who was lying to him and had literally invaded his home!

“ tell me the truth Or I’ll kill you” Leo hissed, trying not to think too hard about the pain or the pity or the nagging feeling in the back of his head that made him want to hear this guy out, “ what were you doing with the camera? How'd you get in here?”

The mutant let out a shaky sigh, “ I am your brother. You were cursed to forget your family and-”

“STOP LYING!” Leo reeled his fist back and punched the mutant hard, trying not to focus on how the crack beneath his fist made him feel sick, “ YOU'RE NOT MY BROTHER!”

Blood gushed from the murant’s nose, their eyes widened and panicked. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, the sight of it making him feel so fucking sick and he didn't know why.

This mutant was going to hurt him if he didn't hurt them first. They were going to watch him and use the information to get him. He knew it, he already knew their plan, so he had to fight back while he had the upper hand.

He reeled back to punch the mutant again, but they stuck an arm out to stop him, grabbing at his neck and trying to choke him. But they were too hesitant, like they were afraid they'd hurt him.

Too bad Leo wasn’t afraid to hurt them.

He threw another punch, but the mutant tightened their fingers and he choked at the last second, nearly missing their cheek.

Leo let go with his other hand to try and wrench their hands away from his neck, suddenly sucking in a panicked breath. This reminded him too much of- he couldn't breath and it was just like-

Leo squeezed his shut, his throat closing despite the mutant barely squeezing.

He tried not to think about it. Just fight. Fight this guy, don't think about how similar it feels to-

Something pricked his neck and Leo opened his eyes, the mutant let go of his neck and pushed him off, scrambling away from him.

He felt dizzy.

“You-” Leo rasped out, but he couldn't make the words work. He couldn't move. Everything seemed to be falling down around him, the world going dark.

And then he was nowhere.

-----

lemme know if this needs more warnings. uuuuh yeah I wanted to write this part bad cause haha there will be consequences to Leo's actions ;) Regardless of whether he remembers them or not

I hope this bit isn't too OOC for Leo specifically, I think if he were cornered he could get real real violent so. Yeah.

Also I drew a doodle for this (which is why I wanted to write this bit) TW FOR VIOLENCE/CHOKING BELOW

Sorry Donnie you are also getting more traumatized :/

Part 1 | Part 23 | Part 25

#rottmnt #art #fanart #digital art #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #comic #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt comic #rottmnt art #fanfic #rottmnt 50au #50au

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 7 months ago

Text

1968 [Chapter 11: Hephaestus, God Of Fire]

A/N: Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥰💜

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.4k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Here is our final interlude. Do you have the patience?

President Lyndon Baines Johnson has halted all U.S. attacks on North Vietnam: no bombs from the air, no infantry on the ground, no artillery shells launched by destroyers cruising in the South China Sea. The election will determine what happens next. If Nixon wins, military operations will resume until the South Vietnamese are in a sufficiently advantageous position to defend themselves from the communists. If Aemond is the victor, troop withdrawals will begin shortly after he is inaugurated on January 20th.

Regardless, it will not be until almost a full year from now, in October of 1969, that it becomes illegal for employers to reserve positions for men; the common practice of refusing to hire women with preschool-aged children will not be outlawed until 1971. Unmarried people will not be guaranteed access to contraception until 1972. Abortion will not be legalized across all fifty states until 1973. Women will not have a right to their own bank accounts or credit cards until 1974. It will not be illegal to exclude women from juries until 1975. The first female Supreme Court justice, Sandra Day O’Connor, will be appointed in 1981. There will be no female president of the United States, not for at least half a century after our story ends.

Each night on CBS Evening News, Walter Cronkite recaps the latest poll numbers. Nixon appears to have a slight advantage, due in large part to pulling ahead in Florida, Illinois, Ohio, and his home state of California. Aemond has comfortable leads in Texas, Pennsylvania, New York, and New Jersey. George Wallace will likely sweep the Deep South: Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Arkansas. From their hovels, the racists rejoice. From her grave, Lurleen Wallace rests uneasily, scratching at the lid of her coffin with the bones of her fingers, entombed in dark oblivion like all the rest of the world’s discarded wives.

~~~~~~~~~~

You go for the door, but Aemond is faster; he catches you just as your hand is twisting the handle and the hinges creak. He throws you against the wall so hard the paintings rattle: replicas of Monets and Warhols, Almond Blossoms, The Birth of Venus. You fight, clawing at him, ripping off the eyepatch that Alys must have at last convinced him was no defeat to wear. The hollow, gore-colored abyss of his left eye socket beckons you to fall in and be burned: Hestia’s eternal hearth, the volcanic forge of Hephaestus. He’s fire all the way down, hunger and fury, bones charred black and brittle. You think of the uninhabitable furnace of Jupiter’s moon Io, lethal radiation, poisoned air, lava bubbling up like blood through a bullet wound.

“You can’t hit me,” you gasp. “You need me for photos—”

His knuckles are in your belly, crosshairs made of scar tissue. The air collapses out of your lungs; your vision dims like twilight, like an eclipse. You’re on the floor and trying to crawl away from him. Aemond’s fingers hook into the fabric of your robe; it matches the silk nightgown you wear beneath, a pale anemic pink, something soft and young and desireless, something eternally at others’ mercy, something to be guarded or gutted. He’s dragging you towards him.

He’s going to hit me again, he might even kill me.

“Stop, stop,” you plead, still struggling to breathe. “What if I’m pregnant?!”

You almost certainly can’t be, but Aemond doesn’t know that. Yet his lone eye glints like metal, like coins, no weak mortal compassion. “I would have no way of being sure it was mine.” And then he tries to cover your mouth as you scream for help. You bite at his fingers; your bare feet kick the wall. Your hair, long and loose and wild, flows around you like a bride’s veil.

Too late, Aemond realizes that the door is still open a crack from when you grabbed the handle. There are footsteps and a voice that crescendos as it approaches: “What on earth is going on in here…?” Fosco appears in the threshold, yellow tweed jacket, tight olive green trousers. He stares thunderstruck down at where you and Aemond are entangled on the floor.

You beg: “Fosco, help me.”

“No, no, no,” Fosco says, jolting from his paralysis and holding a hand out towards Aemond. “No, you cannot do this, whatever has happened, you cannot touch her like—”

“She’s not your wife,” Aemond says. She’s not your property. Fosco hesitates; his large dark eyes shifting between the two of you from behind his glasses.

“Aemond, brother, listen to—”

“Get out.” Aemond’s voice is low, searing, malignant.

“Fosco, please don’t leave me,” you whimper. You try to pry Aemond’s fingers off your robe; they dig in deeper, bruising the flesh underneath. “Don’t leave me, don’t let him hurt me.”

Abruptly, Fosco turns and sprints out of the room.

“No!” you shout after him before Aemond grabs your face, his hand like a claw, fingernails leaving half-moon indents in your cheeks, crushing pressure on your jaw.

“You’re trying to sabotage this campaign.”

“I didn’t see the reporters, I swear to God.”

He knocks the back of your skull against the wall so hard that you see momentary flashes like stars, that all the words vanish from your throat, that words cease to exist at all. “You’re a traitor. Do you know the penalty for treason? The U.S. Army would have you executed by firing squad. Zeus would chain you to a rock so your liver could be carved out.”

“You betrayed me first,” you hiss through clenched teeth, your head pounding hot and maroon.

“I have been working for this since before you were born. You can’t take it away from me. I won’t let you.”

“I did everything right and you still couldn’t love me.” You swing at Aemond and he catches your wounded hand, squeezes it, digs his thumb into the spot where the doctors stitched you closed. The pain is excruciating, incapacitating. You wail as scarlet flowers bloom through the white of your bandaged palm.

Now the door flies open again and Aegon collides with Aemond, sends him sprawling, crouches over you. He’s screaming something at Aemond, gripping your shoulder to keep you under him, his too-long hair hanging in his face, black turtleneck sweater, one of Daeron’s frayed army jackets thrown over it, ripped jeans, bare feet. Aemond grabs his brother by the lapel of his army jacket and draws back his fist. His golden wedding ring flashes in the grey November sunlight that streams in through the windows. Aegon doesn’t flinch. He’s taken knuckles to the face before; you remember cleaning blood off his skin under a streetlight in Biloxi, you remember not wanting to wash him away.

“Don’t you see what it will look like?!” Fosco is saying, trying to coax Aemond to relent. “If he is photographed with a busted face after that story comes out? If she has bruises or a black eye? By harming them you are confirming what your enemies have printed, and the voters will believe it is the truth.”

“They already know it’s true!” Aemond snatches the Wall Street Journal off the table and hurls it at Fosco. Then he paces back and forth through the room, glaring at where you are still crumpled on the floor, sobbing, cradling your bleeding hand to your chest. “It’s right there, three goddamn photographs, and that’s all it will take to bring down a lifetime of work!”

Fosco studies the pictures again, shaking his head, one hand covering his mouth. At last he offers weakly: “It could be worse, Aemond.”

“How could it be worse?!”

Aegon scrambles to Fosco to rip the newspaper out of his hands, then returns to you. He hasn’t seen the front-page story yet. He skims it frantically. “This? This is what you’re losing your mind over? It’s dark, it’s blurry, they can’t even see what’s going on!”

“I have one fucking eye and I can see it!”

“So come up with another explanation, this doesn’t prove anything.”

“If she costs me the election—”

“If you lose, it won’t be because of her!” Aegon roars back. “It will be because the Democrats have held the White House for eight years and the world has gone to hell on our watch, it will be because of Kennedy, and Johnson, and Vietnam and the riots and the hippies and the drugs and the assassinations, it will be because Nixon is promising law and order in a time when nobody is safe, it will be because you just weren’t good enough. But she has given more to your cause than anyone. You hit her and you’ll lose your other eye.”

“They were in conversation,” Fosco says, meaning the photos. The four of you know that’s not true; it is a lie for the rest of the world, it is hope for Aemond’s campaign. “On the beach. They were whispering, comforting each other. Because of Mimi. That is all.”

Aemond scoffs, his remaining eye fierce and wrathful as it lands on you again. Aegon grips your shoulder, still crouching over you, still shielding you. “You bitch. I should have left you at that party in Manhattan to be the dope-smoking whore you were when I found you.”

“I shouldn’t have helped save your life in Palm Beach.”

And Aemond blinks at you, not hurt but bewildered, like he doesn’t understand your words, like what you said is impossible. He doesn’t believe you saved him. He believes it was God’s will.

Otto storms into the hotel room and takes in the scene: you and Aegon on the floor, Aemond pacing furiously, Fosco attempting to mediate. “Nobody says anything,” Otto commands, deep booming voice, black suit like he’s going to a funeral. “The Wall Street Journal hates Aemond. Everyone knows that, they’re probably the only national publication that would run the story. Our newspapers are already pushing the counternarrative, that this was a shameful, deceitful, desperate attempt to discredit Aemond right before the election. Our supporters will insist upon an innocent explanation. Nixon’s will use the photos as evidence of our degeneracy, our amorality, us immigrants with our strange faith and our progressive politics. Everyone else in the country will be warring over this headline. We will say nothing. We will conduct business as usual. The best thing we can do now is go out there and keep our schedule as planned.” He looks meaningfully at Aemond. “And your wife must be at your side. Smiling, unscathed, devoted.”

“I lost my composure,” Aemond says to you, more collected now, businesslike. He is smoothing any wrinkles out of his suit jacket. “I was wrong to put my hands on you. I apologize for that. It was beneath me.”

You reply: “Very little is beneath you, I’ve learned.”

“You have been.” A trace of a grin, crooked and cruel. “Plenty of times. And you will be again.”

Aegon is watching is brother, seething but terrified, sheltering you with power that is only illusory, never real. It is a mirage that Aemond or Otto could punch through at any moment. It is glass that would shatter into crystalline dust.

“If I win, you will beg on your knees for forgiveness,” Aemond tells you. “You will beg in private, you will be perfection in public, and I will magnanimously overlook this indiscretion in which you were taken advantage of by my notoriously dissolute brother. There was no affair. There was a fleeting moment of weakness on your part and depravity on Aegon’s. We will put it in the past. I will be the president of the United States and you will be my first lady. You will spend every second of your existence in service of my career, my country, and my legacy. You will give me children. You will obey me entirely. And you and Aegon will never be in a room alone together for the rest of your lives.”

“You can’t keep me away from her,” Aegon says.

“I just did. I make the rules here, I am the heir to this empire. If you wanted that responsibility, you should have seized it. You squandered it, you cursed it. It’s mine now.”

A whisper: “Aemond, it’ll kill me.”

“Then have the dignity to die quietly. It will be the most useful thing you’ve ever done.”

“Aegon must be seen in public too,” Fosco says, trying to sound like he isn’t defending him. “If you appear to be punishing or excluding him, it will be used as evidence of his guilt.”

Aemond nods, then turns to his brother. “As soon as the election is called, whichever way it goes, I want you gone. I don’t care where you go. I don’t care what happens to you once you’re there. You will disappear. We will say it was your choice, and if you comply you can keep your children and receive a modest amount of severance pay to get you started. And as long as you abide by my terms, my wife will not be harmed.”

Aegon doesn’t reply. His large Atlantic-blue eyes glisten, his lips tremble, his hand is still on your shoulder. You think through the throbbing pain of your bleeding palm: Is this the last time he’ll ever touch me?

Otto grabs Aegon, wrenches him away from you, drags him yowling and clawing at the carpet through the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your hand is freshly bandaged, pristine white gauze that people in the crowd jostle to touch like the relic of a saint, to pray over, to kiss. Men tell you how brave you are to bear the pain without weeping. Women give you komboskini, stained not with their husband’s blood but with only the clean, colorless ether of hope, faith, reverence, love.

Fosco and Helaena have been dispatched to accompany the children on a tour of the Franklin Institute, one of the oldest centers of science education in the nation. Aemond is giving a speech in front of the Liberty Bell at Independence Hall. You and the others are arranged around him like a starving crescent moon. You are standing immediately on Aemond’s left side, Aegon placed at his right. He looks drunk, he looks drugged; you aren’t sure if anyone else can tell, but you can. His cheeks are flushed. His eyes are pools of murky, desolate indigo like the night sky between stars. A few attendees give the two of you curious glances, but no mention is made of the accusations in the Wall Street Journal. You get the sense that if someone took it upon themselves to ask a question on the subject, they would be jeered, reviled, banished like President Johnson, who is currently besieged in the White House by the ghosts of Vietnam.

When you look to Aemond, you see his scar, his prosthetic eye, fierce and stoic determination in the lines of his face. He is quoting the inscription on the bell: “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof…” The bronze metal has a crack in it like one of Zeus’s lightning bolts. The smile on your face is frozen, demure, humble. Aegon’s eyes accidentally catch on yours—a childlike vulnerability, a deep raw woundedness—and then swiftly dart away.

“America is the Land of Opportunity, but some have forgotten that,” Aemond says into the microphone, and vengeance creeps into his voice like a spider up a wall. “Unfortunately, for as long as new communities have arrived at our shores, vile and prejudiced lies have been used to demonize them. Greek immigrants have been crossing the Atlantic for over a century. In 1909, rioters violently expelled them from Omaha, Nebraska. In 1922, an anti-Greek initiative was launched by the Ku Klux Klan. In 1924, Congress drastically restricted my people’s entry in favor of migrants from Northwestern European nations like Britain and Germany. Greeks have been condemned as unintelligent, immoral, and unworthy of the glorious opportunities of this country. We have been barred from jobs and universities, we have been used as cannon fodder in the World Wars. Discrimination against any group is antithetical to the American Dream. I have given an eye for this nation, my wife has bled for it, my brother has—even in the midst of personal tragedy—uprooted his life and the lives of his children to fight alongside me for a better America, and I will not stand by silently as the Targaryen name is tarnished by bigoted falsehoods…”

Now you can no longer hear him over the thunder of the applause, and you remember all the other faces in all those other cities, their eyes illuminated as if by fire, as if by the sun. You imagine devotees of the Greek gods bowing low in temples of white marble and flickering torches, bringing offerings of gold and livestock, grain and blood, murmuring prayers, bargaining for miracles. Did the gods hear them? Do the gods love anyone but themselves?

Alicent and Criston are watching you and Aegon with the same eyes: large, dark, shimmering, a curious combination of horror and profound sympathy. You can feel yourself becoming a ghost, a legend, a myth. One day people will read about you in textbooks and academic journals, in plaques erected at Aemond’s alma mater, Columbia University, and your own, Manhattanville College; and they will know only the fabled version of you. Who you really were will fade into nothingness like Echo, like Icarus into the waves, like Eurydice when her lover Orpheus dared to glimpse back at her.

That night in your penthouse suite at the Ritz-Carlton, you get out of the bathtub—dewy with steam, donning your pink robe—and then go to your side of the king-sized bed and slide open the top drawer of the nightstand. The card Aegon gave you at Mount Sinai isn’t there. Your heartbeat quickens; your stomach lurches.

“What…?”

You get down on your knees to reach into the back of the drawer, to see if the card has snagged somewhere. You hear footsteps and whirl to see Aemond standing in the doorway between the bedroom and the living room. He is holding the card. The cartoon cow beams jubilantly at you. You recall what Aegon wrote inside after crossing out the manufacturer’s message: I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf! As your eyes widen, Aemond rips the card down the middle.

“Don’t!” you scream, rushing for him. “Please don’t, it’s all I have from—!”

Aemond shoves you back and then, with a grin more like a wolf baring its teeth, tears through the remnants again and again until the card is nothing but shreds. He opens the sliding glass door that leads out onto the balcony and throws them into the cold night wind, where they scatter in a flurry like snowflakes, like bones turned to splinters by cluster bombs in the swamps of Vietnam.

The paper fragments spiral down thirty stories towards the zooming headlights on South Broad Street, and you think about following them. Then Aemond pulls you into his arms as frigid air blows through you and whispers: “You don’t need Aegon anymore. You just need me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, November 4th, and you are walking alongside Ludwika on Broadway in Astoria, Queens, the part of New York City known as Greektown. She chats about the modelling jobs she did here before meeting Otto, her Louis Vuitton stilettos clicking on the sidewalk, her Camel cigarettes smudged with red Yardley lipstick. It is an act of kindness; she is trying to distract you. A few yards away, Fosco is telling Aegon about how he just won $500 by betting on the NASCAR Peach State 200, held at Jefco Speedway in Georgia. Aegon nods along, preoccupied, miserable. He has dark shadows around his eyes and is smoking one of his Lucky Strikes. He is wearing a green knit cap, windblown curls of his blonde hair escaping from underneath. You’re not supposed to stare at Aegon, but sometimes you can’t help it. You miss him. You’re worried about him.

The Targaryens have suites reserved at the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan, where the family will stay through Election Day to witness the results as they are tallied on the evening news. The children are there now, enjoying pizza from Little Italy with Helaena and the nannies. But you and the other adults are being photographed by flocks of journalists as you head for lunch at one of the oldest Greek diners in the United States, paying homage to Aemond’s ancestry. The candidate himself is locked in a fraught conversation with Otto and Criston: polls gaining here, polls slipping there, Nixon inching further ahead in Florida, the state you were supposed to help Aemond win.

“What should I order?” Ludwika asks you. “Not spinach pie, oh, horrible, worse than Hitler. Something else. Why can’t we go to a Polish restaurant for once? I will take you sometime. You will see. You will try a pierogi and never look back. We invented bagels, you know.”

“Beagles?” Fosco says. “What an accomplishment! They are so cute!”

“Bagels, stupido.”

“Do not bully me. I am suffering too. I should be back at the hotel eating a prosciutto pizza.”

As you pass an electronics shop with stacks of televisions in the windows, all turned to NBC news, the journalists begin to gasp and chatter excitedly amongst themselves. The flashbulbs strobe madly, shutters clicking and reporters shouting for Aemond to give them a comment. The youngest Targaryen brother has appeared on the screens, bruised and gaunt and missing teeth. He looks twenty years older than he is. His once-golden hair is turning white.

Otto sputters: “What…what the hell is that?!”

“Oh my God, Daeron!” Alicent howls, and then bursts into the shop so she can hear what her lost son is saying. The rest of you hurry after her, locking the front door behind you so the journalists can’t follow. Through the windows, they take photographs until Fosco and Ludwika lower the blinds.

Inside the maze of electronics, three adolescent employees gawk at the presidential candidate and his retinue. “Out,” Otto instructs them, and then, when they are too stunned to immediately vacate the premises: “I said, get out!” The teenagers scurry into the backroom and slam the door.

“Daeron,” Alicent moans in front of a Zenith color television. Tears flow torrentially from her huge, horrified eyes. Criston holds her, arms circling, his cheek pressed to hers, and you are reminded of how Aegon touched you in your hotel room in Houston, in his basement at Asteria, on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean.

Daeron is saying: “The United States has committed war crimes in Vietnam. I am ashamed of the actions my country has taken here. We have burned children with napalm, executed innocent civilians, and interfered in matters that we have no legitimate jurisdiction over…”

“He is reading from a script,” Fosco says. “You can see his eyes following the words.”

“Shh,” Otto snaps.

Daeron continues: “The only honorable course of action now is to immediately withdrawal all American soldiers from Vietnam…”

“I think this will help us, actually,” Otto says. “People will know he’s being forced to make propaganda for the communists, and they will have sympathy for him and the family. They’ll want to rescue him and all the other servicemen too. He’s obviously…under duress.”

Aegon drops to his knees and puts his palm against the screen over Daeron’s face, just like the shadows of your fingers once fell over Ari as he fought for his life in an incubator in Mount Sinai Hospital. “Do you see what they’re doing to him?” He turns to Aemond with tears in his eyes. “What you did to him? You left him there, you abandoned him, and now he’s being tortured.”

Alicent looks to Aemond, puzzled, petrified. “You tried to get him out, didn’t you?” Aemond doesn’t answer. Otto averts his gaze, counting the tiles on the floor.

“Dear lord,” Ludwika mutters, lighting a fresh Camel cigarette and puffing on it anxiously.

“Was it worth it?” Aegon demands. “Selling your soul?”

Aemond is steely, resolved. “It’s almost over.”

“You were all right.” Aegon stands, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his green-striped sweater. “I don’t have what it takes to win the presidency. I couldn’t do something like this. Me, the perennial fuckup. Me, the godless degenerate.”

“Aegon,” Alicent whispers. “Please…please don’t…”

He turns to his mother, insurmountably sad. “Mom, I tried to stop him.” Alicent sobs and covers her face with both hands as Criston embraces her. She can’t even look at Aemond. She can’t believe what he’s become. Her long coppery hair flows like blood.

You reach for Aegon, your fingertips brushing his ruddy cheek, and immediately he folds into you, burying his face in the curve of your neck, breathing in your warmth as you inhale his smoke and rum and pain and terror. “Daeron will be home soon,” you say, not knowing if it’s true. Your bandaged hand aches; your throat burns.

“I should have gone instead. It should have been me.”

“No, Aegon. Your children need you, I need you. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Then Aemond yanks you away, his grip on your wrist like an anchor, like chains.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Dad, play us something,” Orion says; and it is the first time you can remember him calling Aegon that. Aegon smiles. He’s sitting on one of the couches in the penthouse suite you share with Aemond, the Gibson guitar he bought back in July lying across his lap as he strums it absentmindedly. The television is on and turned to CBS News. It’s just before midnight on Tuesday, November 5th, Election Day. The children are thrilled. It’s the one night they’re allowed to stay up as late as they’re physically able to. This allowance is not purely altruistic; Aemond wants them awake and ready for photographs as soon as the winner is announced.

“What should I play?”

“Frank Sinatra,” Fosco says. He is beside Aegon on the couch, smoking a cigar and flipping through the Sports section of the New York Times, which he’s not really reading.

“Marvin Gaye,” Ludwika suggests. They are both on your side of the room. Aemond, Otto, Sargent Shriver, and a number of campaign staffers are huddled around the television, transfixed by the ever-updating vote totals. Alicent and Criston are between your factions, murmuring back and forth to each other, flutes of golden champagne in their hands. Helaena is on the floor entertaining Violeta, Daphne, and Neaera with Crayolas and coloring books full of scenes from gardens. You recall how eerily calm Helaena had been the night Aemond was shot in Palm Beach, like she somehow already knew he’d survive. Now she is nervous, looking fretfully around the room, wringing her hands, filling outlines of butterflies with ten different shades of blue.

“The Beatles,” Orion tells Aegon, casting Fosco and Ludwika a judgmental teenage glance.

“Any particular song?”

“You can pick.”

Aegon sips at his rum, ice cubes clinking in the glass. He looks over to the coffee table, where you are embroiled in a game of Battleship with Cosmo. He’s getting better; he’s genuinely sunk your destroyer and submarine so far. Then Aegon’s eyes drop to his guitar strings and he plucks the opening notes of In My Life. His voice is soft and low, almost secretive.

“There are places I’ll remember

All my life, though some have changed

Some forever, not for better

Some have gone and some remain…”

Cosmo turns to watch his father. Orion, Spiro, Thaddeus, and Evangelos are gathered around Aegon’s feet, gazing up at him with admiration, with love.

“All these places had their moments

With lovers and friends, I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living

In my life, I’ve loved them all...”

Cheers erupt over by the television; Aemond has just won Michigan. But then tense, indistinct deliberations follow. Florida is still too close to call, a bad omen. You wonder where Alys is as she watches the results come in. There must be some part of her—however small, however smothered—that fears Aemond will win. If he captures the presidency, she could be separated from the man she loves for the better part of a decade. You drink your Pink Squirrel, wishing it was stronger. You think of sea sponge divers down in the depths and imagine what that first gulp of air tastes like when they resurface, when they shed their rubber suits and brass helmets and step back into sunlight, warmth, freedom like Persephone returning from the Underworld each spring.

“But of all these friends and lovers

There is no one compares with you

And these memories lose their meaning

When I think of love as something new…”

You wear a sapphire-colored gown that Aemond chose for you, strings of silver around your wrist and throat, diamond teardrops hanging from your ears. Your hair is up, your fingernails painted a tasteful opalescent shade, the aching of your bandaged hand dulled by booze and Vicodin.

“Though I know I’ll never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I’ll often stop and think about them

In my life, I love you more.”

More triumphant shouts and applause across the room by the television: Aemond has won Washington state. From his own suite at the St. Regis Hotel a few blocks south on 5th Avenue, Nixon’s people must be celebrating that he just secured Ohio’s 26 electoral votes. He needs 270 to be the next president of the United States.

Florida, you think. If Nixon can take Florida, I think he’ll win the whole thing.

As Aemond and Otto are distracted, as Fosco and Ludwika watch with pitying, knowing eyes, Aegon sets his guitar aside and walks by you with his rum in hand, taps your shoulder, disappears onto the balcony. You wait a few minutes—Cosmo wins Battleship and goes to color on the floor with Helaena—and then follow Aegon.

Outside the night sky is moonless, starless, thick with clouds. Rain is beginning to fall, soft hushed pattering. Far below taxis and limousines are still rushing and blowing their horns on West 59th Street. You can see the vast forested shadow of Central Park and streetlights like constellations. In apartments and office buildings, windows are illuminated as Americans sit numbing their fears with beer, wine, shots of liquor, smoldering hand-rolled joints.

Aegon is cross-legged at the ledge, one hand on the iron bars of the railing, staring out at the nightscape of Manhattan. His hair lashes in the cold November wind. His nose is pink, his eyes wet and faraway. He passes his Lucky Strike cigarette to you as you join him and says: “I don’t think Aemond can win without Florida.”

“No,” you agree, taking a drag.

Aegon snatches a rattling orange bottle from the pocket of his olive green army jacket, pops it open, and swallows three pills with a swig of straight rum, dark amber poison.

“Don’t do that,” you say, you plead.

“I need it, babe.”

“I want you to still be alive in ten years.”

Aegon smiles and reaches over to pat your cheek twice. “I think that ship might have sailed, little Io.” Can decades of self-destruction be undone, uninflicted, nullified like Heracles becoming immortal? Can the Underworld be escaped? “Come with me. No matter what happens tonight.”

“Aegon, I can’t.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“If I leave, he’ll hurt you. He’ll hurt me worse.”

“It’s not fair,” Aegon says, his voice breaking.

“Nothing is.”

There is an uproar inside the hotel room, screams that could be horror or triumph, realized dreams, breaking bones, bullets through flesh. You and Aegon are on your feet, hauling the balcony door open, stepping through the threshold into the rest of your lives.

Glasses are being toasted until champagne rains down onto the carpet. The telephone is ringing so Nixon can concede. On CBS News, Walter Cronkite is reporting that Aemond has won Florida and thereby accumulated 270 electoral votes. The blue text on the screen reads: Senator Targaryen will be the 37th president of the United States.

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