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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 9 months ago

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1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]

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: 6.2k

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Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.

Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.

So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.

Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.

I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.

At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.

I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.

I don’t think she knows about Alys.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.

Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.

Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.

When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.

You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.

“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.

“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”

This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”

Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”

“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”

Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”

“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”

“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.

Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”

“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”

“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.”

You are alarmed. “What? By who?”

“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”

“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.

“They’re putting me on house arrest.”

Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relieved. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”

“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”

“But it’s different now.”

He’s right, it is.

“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”

“Of course I’ll call.”

“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”

I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”

The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.

“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”

“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”

“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”

Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.

~~~~~~~~~~

In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.

“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”

“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?

The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.

George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.

Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.

A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”

And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.

There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.

Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”

“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”

“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”

“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”

“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.

Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”

“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”

He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”

“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”

“How’s Jupiter?”

You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”

“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”

A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”

“In my lair. Like a beast.”

“Alone?”

A transitory pause. “At the moment.”

“On the shag carpet or your futon?”

Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”

“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.

“Where are you?” Aegon asks.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe I want a visual too.”

You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”

“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”

“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”

“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”

Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”

“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”

You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”

“In Seattle?”

“No. Right here.”

Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”

“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”

“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

“No,” you say, baiting him.

“But I could touch you.”

“You already have.”

“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”

“Do you remember what I felt like?”

“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”

“No, I want you to think about me.”

You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”

“Under the water,” you reply coyly.

“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”

Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.

He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”

“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”

“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”

Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.

“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”

“I want you to finish inside me.”

“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”

There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”

“Wait—!”

You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”

“My parents.”

If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”

You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”

There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”

He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”

Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”

“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”

“So how do I get him to do it?”

You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.

“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”

You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”

“What if Nixon still refuses?”

“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”

Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.

“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”

Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”

“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”

Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes you are.”

There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”

You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.

As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”

He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”

“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”

“It has to fit.”

“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”

“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”

“I’m fine.”

“Io…”

“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.

At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.

“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.

As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.

“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”

You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”

“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”

“It does,” you say softly.

“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”

Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”

Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”

“Actors don’t belong in politics.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.

As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.

“You alright?” Aegon whispers.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look alright.”

“I’m great.”

“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?

On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience��Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.

“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”

In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”

“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”

“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”

“He doesn’t own you.”

“Legally, he does.”

He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”

“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”

“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Got it.”

You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.

The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.

“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.

Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.

We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

And only then does Aegon vanish.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x you #aegon x y/n

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melanie-the-artful · 19 days ago

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Genshin Character Names` Meanings Pt. 4

Tighnari | Most likely a reference to Arab Muslim botanist (as well as traveler, poet and physician) Al-Tighnari (born in village Tignar), who wrote a treatise on Middle East agriculture

Collei | Uncertain, but there seemingly is a Persian name Collei that means «Aware», «Sentimental», or «Noble»; Also literally «Lost» in Welsh

Cyno | Originates from Cynopolis, an Egyptian city which used to be centre of Anubis cult, and as we all know, Cyno is based on Anubis

Sethos | Most likely references Seth, the God of deserts, storms, disorder, violence and foreigners in Ancient Egypt. Known to have accompanied Ra on his barque in repelling Apep, but in the Osiris myth depicted as the usurper who murdered and mutilated his own brother, who is Osiris himself

Dori | Literally «Shining», «Glowing» in Persian, also derived from the word dor (دُر) which means «Large Pearl»

Nilou | «Water Lily», «Lotus» – Persian Name

Candace | «Clarity», «Whiteness» – An ancient title derived from word Kandake, once used by queens of Ethiopia; has Latin roots

Dehya | «Leader of Soldiers» – Algerian Amazeigh/Berber name, which refers to Kahina Dehya, the female Algerian priestess, who was a religious and military leader

Layla | Literally «Night» in Arabic

Faruzan | «Luminous», «Shining», or «Resplendent» – Persian Name

Alhaitham | Haitham is a first name and it means «Young Eagle» or «Young Hawk». Meanwhile Al is a prefix usually used in Middle East last names before the name of the family/tribe itself. Basically, it is a definite article, like 'the' in English. He is also most likely named so after Hasan Ibn al-Haitham (Latinicized version of his name also sounds like Alhazen) who was an Arab mathematician, astronomer and physicist during the Islamic Golden Age

Kaveh | «Of Royal Origin» – Persian/Iranian Name; Might be based on Kaveh the Blacksmith from Iranian mythology, who launched a national uprising against the evil foreign tyrant Zahāk and re-established the rule of Iranians

Nahida | «Delightful», «Gentle», «Kind», «Soft» – Persian Name. Another version – Nahiya, means «Advisor»

Kusanali | Derived from the Pali words «kusa» (kusa-grass, a sacred plant used in Hindu ceremonies) and «nāḷi» («a hollow stalk or tube»).

Buer | Comes from Governor Buer, the 10th of Goetia Demons

Rukkhadevata | रुक्खदेवता – "tree-goddess" in Shaivism is a Yakṣiṇī who is worshiped as the goddess of wealth or the guardian spirit of practitioners. The Yakṣiṇīs are the female counterparts of the Yakshas in Hinduism and Buddhism, and also appear in Jātaka literature, where they are considered as local deities living in trees and sometimes referred to individually as "rukkha-devatā".

Cuilein-Anbar | Literally «Darling Amber». Cuilein (directly translating to «pup/cub») is a Gaelic term of endearment commonly used for young animals, equivalent to «darling», while anbar is an Arabic word meaning «amber».

Mehrak | «Like the Sun» – Persian Name

Faranak | Derived from the word پروانه (parvâneh), which means «butterfly» in Persian

Dunyarzad | Likely named so after Dunyazad (دنیازاد in Persian), who is the younger sister of Queen Scheherazade from One Thousand and One Nights

Sorush | Originates from Zoroastrian divinity of «Conscience» and «Observance», with its name having those two exact meanings

Apep | Based on an ancient Egyptian deity of darkness and disorder, also known as Aphoph or Apophis, who also was often depicted as a snake

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

........Hi

Not even gonna make up excuses this time, just want you to know that I do have an intention to finish these series, it`s just that God knows when I actually will

In any case, I wanted to add Jeht as well, but I couldn't find a reliable source that would tell me where her names comes from, so I would be grateful if anyone knowledgeable helped me out here. I think I saw a version that says it's an Arabic name meaning «Freedom Lover» or «Scholar», but I'm not sure if that's right??

Anyways, see ya soon, hope you'll have a great year, take care of yourself, stay hydrated and bye.

#genshin impact #genshin impact sumeru #tighnari #collei #genshin impact cyno #cyno #genshin impact dori #nilou #candace #genshin impact layla #faruzan #alhaitham #kaveh #dehya #genshin impact sethos #genshin impact nahida #nahida #greater lord rukkhadevata #genshin impact sorush

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literaryvein-reblogs · 2 months ago

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More Ancient Egyptian Art Vocabulary

for your next poem/story

Double crown - the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt worn together

Dynasty - a series of rulers descending within a family; following the Ptolemaic historian Manetho, ancient Egyptian history is divided into thirty dynasties

Faience - a powdered quartz paste, which is modeled or molded and fired; it is either self-glazed or made with applied glaze

False door - a panel in the form of a niched doorway through which the deceased could receive offerings

Gesso - a mixture of whiting and glue often used to prepare a surface for painting

Harakhty - “Horus of the horizon,” the god of the rising sun, depicted as a falcon or a falcon-headed human crowned by a sun disk

Hathor - a goddess sometimes depicted as a cow or with cow’s horns and ears; associated with joy, music, and love

Heh - god of millions of years, of eternity

Hieratic - handwritten counterpart to the hieroglyphic script, developed in the Old Kingdom mainly for writing on papyrus; written from right to left

Hieroglyph - a Greek word meaning “sacred symbol.” In Egypt, one of some seven hundred signs used in writing (considerably more if one counts signs used exclusively in the Old Kingdom and the periods after the New Kingdom). “Hieroglyphs” refers to the signs themselves; “hieroglyphic script” is Egyptian writing. (Calling the signs “hieroglyphics” is incorrect.)

Horus - ancient sky god in the form of a falcon, embodiment of the divine powers of the living king; son of Osiris and Isis

Ideogram - (sense sign) a hieroglyph signifying the actual object depicted or a closely connected notion

Isis - wife of Osiris, mother of Horus, the divine magician because of her extraordinary powers, divine mourner of the dead; her name is written with the hieroglyphic sign for “throne,” which she wears on her headdress

Ka - life force; the hieroglyphic sign is a pair of extended arms

Maat - right order and justice established by the gods, personified by the goddess Maat, who wears an ostrich feather on her head or is represented by the ostrich feather itself

Magic rod - a squared or rectangular object carved with symbols, such as felines, crocodiles, protective wedjat eyes, and baboons tending lamps, that Egyptians may have believed helped the sun reappear each day from the chaos of night. These rods were placed in tombs to guarantee a similar rebirth to the deceased.

Mastaba - a type of Egyptian tomb having a rectangular superstructure with exterior walls slightly slanting inward as they rise; contains chapels, chambers, and a shaft leading to an underground burial

Mortuary temple - a temple erected and endowed by a king where he could receive offerings in perpetuity after his death

Mut - “mother”: worshiped as the consort of Amun; shown as a vulture or as a woman wearing the double crown

Myrrh - a fragrant aromatic plant gum used in making perfume, unguents, and incense

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists

#ancient egypt #art #terminology #word list #writeblr #writing inspiration #spilled ink #writing reference #dark academia #creative writing #light academia #literature #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writing prompt #poetry #writing resources

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connabeth · 5 months ago

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rick really woke up and said "what if i give the people what they want for once" and gave us grumpy black cat introvert percy and sunshine golden retriever extrovert annabeth we never knew we needed

also no one's talking about how percy made friends with annabeth's college's security guard (Florence or smthn?) so he's the only one allowed to walk in her campus anytime?

also I found a typo in the third chapter where dave was accidentally called paul which I found really funny

1) i’m glad this series is doing justice to annabeth’s personality because she spent so much of pjo & hoo caught in an inner turmoil of hurt and uncertainty and self-loathing and insecurity and fear given the circumstances of luke’s betrayal and percy’s imminent death. in spite of it all, she was still a bastion of hope and light throughout those books, but she deserves to be silly and unburdened by the weight of the world now that she has percy back and there’s no big prophecy (unresolved trauma aside). i think, in her mind, even though new, crazy things keep being thrown at them and she most certainly deals with a latent fear of losing percy at any moment, she’s resolute and confident that they can overcome anything that gets in their way of their dream of going to college and finding peace together because she feels that invigorated and wants it that bad. even if greco-egyptian gods or a triple goddess or a mortal apollo pop up throughout their senior year. i feel like she’s giving herself the freedom to just let go, breathe, be sure everything will be okay in the end, and just be excited about things without drowning in worry for once, which i love. she deserves to feel that childlike enthusiasm she was deprived of for so long. her confidence that they’ll be okay extends to percy being able to complete all his classwork and applications, which in turn reinforces his determination.

2) as for percy, he’s definitely the more outwardly insecure out of the two, mainly because of how his academic prowess pales in comparison to hers and the fact that he feels he doesn’t deserve her and she’s way better than him. percy thinking her SODNYC friends perceive him in the same critical light obviously isn’t helping. it’s evident in the way he’s amazed when he looks at her, disbelieving for a second that she’s his girlfriend, and how he observes her interaction with others more similar to her, feeling like an outsider who can’t understand that part of her brain the way her friends can. it’s even more abundantly clear when he believes “She would always succeed whether I was around or not,” which in theory is a sweet sentiment to have about your very capable girlfriend, but academic and social success aside, she needs him as much as he needs her and she’d see no point in being in california without him. but his insecurities and easy jealousy prevent him from fully understanding this even if he innately knows it’s a universal truth that they’re meant to be together. however, all this being said, percy’s characterization in wottg so far is a little…weird. in order for you to literally pee your pants, something must scare you or catch you off guard really, really bad. so while it makes sense for him to fear a powerful goddess, wetting his boxers seems like an extreme reaction. i know rick was probably just trying to insert immature humor, but the implications are not what he was going for considering this is the boy who didn’t have that reaction staring down titans and giants and nyx and tartarus himself. so forgive me if i think it’s a little insane that percy having such a visceral reaction to a goddess 13 year old hazel fared well against is out of character, even after taking into consideration his fear of not receiving and completing the remaining quests on time. it makes sense for him to be nervous and on edge, given the quiet of the past month, but that amount of fear towards a deity who’s not the most scary thing he’s faced down is an interesting choice since rick isn’t known for realistic depictions of PTSD and that likely isn’t the intention here. it’s also curious how it’s implied even a goddess as primordial as aphrodite caves in to hecate…

3) florence is the goat and i love percy making random friends to help his cause. he doesn’t go out of his way to befriend others in the mortal world unless they approach him first or there’s an opportunity there. and the fact that annabeth can a casually ask her friend to cover for her being gone from her dorm for several days makes me think this is far from the first time she’s snuck out for prolonged periods of time👀

4) this is an INSANE typo to have in a book because clearly not a single person proofread it and it doesn’t surprise me that it got past rick, but becky and several rounds of editors and everyone else in his circle who’s read the book not picking up on it prior to publication is wild. rick is too eager to have his self-insert be everywhere and it shows💀

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #wottg #cotg #wottg spoilers #ricky when i catch u ricky

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anonymousewrites · 10 months ago

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Burden of Truth (Book 1) Prologue

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Prologue: On the Precipice

Summary: In 2018, (Y/N) discovers grief as people turn to dust and the world turns to chaos.

Mouse Note: Welcome to Burden of Truth! Kind of a rough beginning, but, hey, how else do you become an Avatar to a god? Anyways, housekeeping: This is a platonic fic, so anyone who suggests anything inappropriate between an adult and minor will be blocked and deleted. That's pretty much it, but I wanted to make it clear. As for the actual fic, there aren't any warnings other than the violence that Marvel shows. I'm really excited to share this series! Please feel free to comment since I'm always up to answering questions and replying to comments. Plus it makes me keep writing. Without further ado, though, please enjoy!

2018…

(Y/N) gasped for breath, but their lungs refused to bring in the air they needed. Every limb ached, and their heart beat against their chest. It stuttered, refusing to work correctly. The edges of (Y/N)’s visions blurred to black.

Everything had gone wrong. They had thought this summer would be a beautiful one, traveling with their parents. Egypt was lovely, and (Y/N) liked to listen to their parents—anthropology and history professors—tell them about the rich history and culture of the country.

Plus, they were far away from New York where strange aliens had recently attacked and fought Iron Man and a strange wizard. They were safe with their family and free to enjoy themself.

And then people turned to dust.

Screams echoed as loved ones disappeared before people’s very eyes. Cars crashed without drivers. Buses overturned and threw out people and sand. Cries went out as crashes sent metal through limbs—through torsos.

Through (Y/N)’s torso.

(Y/N) couldn’t even move to cover their chest as it bled. They didn’t try to. They knew they were dying. They didn’t want to (gods, please, no, I don’t want this I don’t want this) but they were.

And they couldn’t even reach out to hold their mom and dad’s hands. (Y/N) felt like a child again, but unlike nightmares, they couldn’t run to their parents’ arms to feel safe. Even if they could, the chill of death had already taken their parents’ warmth and comfort.

(Y/N) wished they’d all turned to dust. This was violent, painful, agonizing. Their parents had laid beside them in distress, calling out for help and rescue, dying. No one had come.

And now (Y/N) was alone—the world hadn’t even been kind enough to let them die before their parents.

This was just so wrong. Unfair. Unjust.

“It is unjust.” A calm voice spoke.

(Y/N) didn’t move. They couldn’t, and they were already dying. Their situation couldn’t get worse.

“I can feel your pain.”

This time, a woman, taller than humanely possible, appeared in their line of sight. She knelt among the dust and bodies of the bus and gazed at (Y/N).

She was Egyptian, dressed in a red gown, and wore an intricate necklace of gold and turquoise. Multicolored Sleeves swept out with her arms like wings. Silky black hair fell around her shoulders, and her eyes were lined in kohl. An ostrich feather stood in a circlet and swayed in the wind.

(Y/N)’s eyes landed on the feather, and something in their chest pulled towards it.

The woman tilted her head and watched them in assessment. “You sense the truth.”

“Who…” (Y/N)’s hoarse voice died.

“I am the goddess Ma’at.” The wind whipped around her as she spoke. “I am in search of a guardian. To uphold justice in the face of wrongdoing. To protect harmony from discord. To defend truth from falsehood.”

(Y/N) coughed, and Ma’at tilted her head.

“I can see the truth in your heart. You want justice for everyone who suffers like you,” said Ma’at. She leaned in. “Pledge yourself to me, pledge yourself to the truth, and I will give you the life to do so.”

(Y/N) looked into Ma’at’s eyes and summoned all their strength left.

“Yes.”

2023…

(Y/N) crouched on the roof and dropped onto the balcony below them. The house around them was quiet. The security guards were clueless to their approach, which was just fine. They didn’t want any attention.

(Y/N) opened the sliding door of the balcony and slipped into the display room. They glanced around themself in distaste. None of the artifacts in glass cases belonged to the owner of this house. He’d “acquired” them in the aftermath of the Blip left countries in disarray, just so like many others.

After the return of the Blipped, the problem of stolen artifacts had only gotten worse since the chaos had begun again, letting more people profit off the displaced people and their possessions.

(Y/N) had spent years repatriating the stolen relics from the aftermath of the Blip. This man, Mr. Medrano, was among the worst offenders. He lied about his findings as an “archaeologist” and stole what he needed for glory. And along the way, he removed any competition. A thief, a liar, and a killer. Medrano was a man who brought injustice of all kinds to the world.

And that was precisely what (Y/N) stood against—what Ma’at stood against.

(Y/N) stopped in front of a case of Egyptian artifacts. Their eyes scanned the contents for the relic they were supposed to bring back to Egypt (send back, really, by way of another person. (Y/N) was still just a teenager, so they couldn’t send it back themself without raising suspicions. Luckily, putting something in a hidden box and not showing their face did the trick).

(Y/N) frowned. The hieroglyphic tablet of Tethering wasn’t on the wall. It seemed they were later than expected, and Medrano had begun to work on translation.

Which means it’ll be in his office.

(Y/N) went to the door of the display room and peeked outside. No light, no movement. They moved into the hall and crept down towards the room at the other side of the house. Making sure their gloves were on—no sense leaving fingerprints—(Y/N) reached out and felt the door handle.

The door was unlocked.

Gently, (Y/N) opened it.

Shick!

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they took a step back. A man in a white, bandage-like suit stood above Medrano. He pulled two crescent-shaped blades from his chest, and Medrano’s body slumped to the ground. The man paused and looked towards the door, the moon sighting the crescent-illusion in his hood and the symbol on the forehead and chest.

“There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here,” said the man, but (Y/N) felt in their heart that he wasn’t speaking to them.

“Does it matter? Your job is to punish the wrongdoers in this mansion.”

(Y/N) blinked as they heard a voice echo from behind them. It was a god’s voice. Not Ma’at, no, but most definitely a deity.

“I won’t hurt a kid, Khonshu,” snapped the avatar, and his hood folded back.

(Y/N) turned around and found themself staring up (really up) at a half-man, half-bird skeleton in white wrappings. This was Khonshu.

“I’m not a wrongdoer,” said (Y/N) to Khonshu, holding up their hands. “I’m, uh, an Avatar.”

At that, Khonshu and man stopped.

“You can see him?” said the man, frowning warily.

“I’m the Avatar of Ma’at,” said (Y/N). They shifted. They weren’t used to saying that. “She’s the goddess of truth.” They could see the “truth” of the world more than others, and that included the gods that walked among them.

“That ostrich is interfering with my work,” said Khonshu, irritated.

“You are the one who is not supposed to interfere with human business,” said Ma’at’s calm voice, and (Y/N) glanced at the office’s large window to find her sitting on the sill.

Khonshu’s avatar looked at the window but saw nothing. “Is another god here?”

(Y/N) nodded sharply. This was a little too much. They were used to working by themself.

“You are doing the exact same thing,” said Khonshu.

“I am returning artifacts to our people,” said Ma’at. “I am not interfering in human life more than that.” She glanced at Medrano’s body. “Unlike some.”

Khonshu tsked. “I am delivering justice.”

“A type, yes,” said Ma’at.

“Ma’at,” said (Y/N) quietly. “I’m going to take the tablet..”

“Go ahead, (Y/N),” said Ma’at. “Khonshu will not harm you. You have done no wrong.”

“They interfered with my work,” said Khonshu.

“Irritating is not wrongdoing,” said Ma’at.

(Y/N) decided to leave before the gods continued to argue. It made them uncomfortable. Then again, a lot of interaction did. (Y/N) hadn’t really gotten to slow down and make friends after 2018, so they’d grown used to their own company (or Ma’at’s). Everything else was business, and anything more was out of their realm of understanding.

(Y/N) opened their bag and slipped the wrapped tablet carefully from the table inside. They looked decidedly away from Medrano’s body, glanced at Khonshu’s avatar, and left the room.

If that’s what Avatars and gods outside of themself and Ma’at were like, (Y/N) didn’t want to meet them.

2025…

“(Y/N).”

The now-seventeen-year-old raised their eyes from the book they were reading. “Yes, Ma’at?”

“I have an important job for you.”

(Y/N) frowned. Ma’at never described anything as “important.” Necessary? Yes. Important? No. Everything was equally pertinent to upholding justice and order to Ma’at.

“I need you to retrieve a scarab.”

“Who stole it?” asked (Y/N).

“You are.”

(Y/N) looked at Ma’at in surprise. “What?” Ma’at disliked any injustice or unlawful actions.

“You are stealing the scarab of Ammit,” said Ma’at.

Ammit.

Ammit ruled the scales in the Judgement of the Dead. Ma’at was the Feather of Truth against which human hearts were weighed. One had abandoned true justice; one continued to defend it.

And (Y/N) was stuck in the middle with the burden to protect the truth of it all.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

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rosietrace · 9 months ago

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This is a personal rant about my thoughts on Greek mythology retellings, and just the way Fantasy books and the publishing industry is at this point 🧍‍♀️

I have nothing against Greek mythology retellings, or just anything Greek mythology related in fantasy in general!

However, I have certain gripes about the way Greek mythology is portrayed in media, specifically in the way its interpreted in Fantasy.

[ More under the cut! ]

I love Percy Jackson, and I think that Uncle Rick did a wonderful job at expanding the world and making Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse mythology entertaining and easily digestible for young audiences. Genuinely, he does a better job at writing children's books than R*wling could ever be capable of.

However, as much as I can love PJO as much as I do, I still find certain bits of the world building and character writing as... Very hit and miss.

To start, I don't like the way Ares was written in the series. I can understand that it would make sense for his personality to be that way, because he's the God of War and it helps with Clarisse's character development; but I find fault in it because Ares in the myths is nothing like PJO Ares. (He literally killed one of Poseidon's sons because he raped his daughter, Alcippe, and he's one of the only gods who doesn't hump anything that can breathe in air. At least Ares has the courtesy of asking for consent 💀)

The Gods being the reason behind WWII and Hitler being a child of Hades. All I must say.

The portrayal of the Aphrodite cabin

The fact that Athena can have children. Annabeth, pjo fandom at large, I love you are, but you gotta admit it must've felt weird when you first read the books and you find out Athena — the maiden Goddess of Wisdom — can have offspring. Regardless of the reasoning, I still find it weird 😭 (EDIT: I've now just remembered that it was a reference to how Athena herself was created 🤡 I'm a clown)

I get that the Hermes cabin is also the cabin for the unclaimed, but couldn't have Hestia's cabin worked too? She doesn't have offspring, sure, but it probably would've made more sense for the unclaimed to go to Hestia's cabin so that the Hermes cabin wouldn't be so crowded

This isn't really a world building issue, but I think I should bring it up: I'm not saying this against the Kane Chronicles fandom, but... Sadie and Anubis. Why. Like you can't convince me that no one WASN'T weirded out by that.

Less of a complaint and more of a question because I can't remember if the question was answered in HoO or not, but when Percy told the Gods to start claiming their unclaimed children and be more decent parents (as he should, go off king), did that request apply to the Romans at Camp Jupiter too? Because that's gotta have been confusing when the unclaimed kids at CP suddenly started getting claimed 😭😭

I could go on a whole ass tangent about PJO, but that would make this post longer than it needs to be 😭😭 and any of the points might not make much sense, since I haven't read the books in a LONG time

Off to the YA Fantasy segment... Hoo boy.

The oversaturation of Hades/Persephone retellings makes me SEETHE. Why is it always Hades and Persephone why can't it be something else 😭

I just don't like the “modern feminist” retellings of Greek myths in the YA Fantasy genre, in general. They tend to completely miss the point of the original myth, and it's the case with a lot of Hades and Persephone retellings where they try to paint Hades as the good guy taking Persephone away from her control freak mother, Demeter.

Because that wasn't what the myth was about. The myth isn't a love story, at least, not a romantic one. It was about Demeter's love for Persephone and how much she wanted her daughter back after Hades stole her away. Keep in mind, in the historical context of the myth, the daughters of women in ancient Greece never really get to see their mothers after their engagements are solidified.

If they wanted to make a “feminist” retelling of the myth, they'd have it centered around the love Demeter had for Persephone to almost doom the mortal realm to an eternal winter to get her back.

I love the myth of Hades and Persephone, truly, I do. I understand the appeal it has on people, the appeal it has one me. I can see why people adore the myth in the way they do because Hades is one of the better husbands in Greek mythology (a low bar, but my point still stands).

Personally, I blame Lore Olympus and especially the video of the myth by Overly Sarcastic Productions for the way the myth is portrayed in mass media. And I say this as a former LO fan and a fan of Overly Sarcastic Productions 😭

I'd also want to go into my many, MANY gripes about “Crown of Starlight” by Cait Corrain, but in all honesty? I don't think I can properly convey how much I DESPISE Cait and their book. So I'd highly recommend y'all to check out the videos about Cait Corrain by Reads With Rachel, WithCindy, and Xiran Jay Zhao on YouTube if you're interested in going into more detail about the controversies, especially for those who weren't made aware of it.

I feel like the publishing industry just... Isn't good anymore, after Booktok went viral. Reading has been “hot girlified”, and all Booktok seems to ask when they get recommended a book is: “Is it spicy??”

Reading is like fast fashion, now. It's all based around certain popular tropes that that's how books are promoted now. Not for the plot — or sometimes lack thereof — but for the tropes the book has.

The only thing I can thank Booktok for is that they helped me discover The Cruel Prince. And even then, it's marketed as romance on there, when it's a political fantasy with a romance subplot.

‼️ Woah! A secret bonus section! ‼️

I, personally, don't read — nor do I like — Sarah J Maas. (Especially considering the problematic aspects of her storytelling, character portrayals, and is (apparently, correct me if I'm wrong) a Zionist)

However, that isn't to say that I don't like some of the characters she makes. A lot of them have potential, actually! From what I've seen, I think Nesta, Gwyn, Azriel, Eris, Tamlin and Lucien from ACOTAR are the only characters I actually like, based on what I've heard — and seen — on anything in the SJM critical tag on this hellsite.

And while we're at it, let's discuss the elephant in the room with ACOTAR, right? Rhysand.

By all that is good and holy, I hate Rhysand so much and I think I'd hate him even more if I actually READ the books. I don't get why Booktok is so invested in him when Maas retconned Tamlin's character to make him look better as Feyre's love interest.

Also, from what I recall, didn't Rhysand sexually assault Feyre? And he didn't bother to apologize for it, and justified it with his sad tragic backstory??

I can't with y'all, istg 😭 the fact that “Feysand” is apparently a Hades and Persephone retelling too makes me even more mad about it because it isn't even a GOOD retelling. It just takes away what ACOTAR originally was— a Beauty and the Beast retelling, with Feyre and Tamlin as the leads.

Didn't Maas dedicate ACOTAR to her husband because “He would go under the mountain” for her??? BECAUSE IT CERTAINLY WASN'T RHYSAND WHO SAVED FEYRE FROM UTM, I'LL TELL YOU THAT

I think, out of all the series Maas has made thus far, Throne of Glass is the only one I ACTUALLY kind of like, based on what I've heard. Crescent City seems to be too complicated to understand, and even though I've never read it myself, I miss what ACOTAR could've been. (My hope lies with Nesta, Elucien and Gwynriel, at this point)

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stalkerofthegods · 1 year ago

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Lady Nyx/Nox deep dive, straight to the point info

Lady Nyx is wonderful, her beauty even ascends the stars, May we respect and adore Lady Nyx as a goddess and as a wonderful mother.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Herbs • Dahlias, Cannas, Some lobelia, Night-blooming jasmine, Moonflowers, Datura, Tuberose, Evening primrose, Queen of the Night epiphyllum, Herbs that only grow at night, black leaves, black flowers, Blackthorn, Cypress, Holly, Juniper, Locust, Pomegranate, Witch Hazel, Comfrey, Honeysuckle, Ivy, Lavender, Mugwort, Patchouli, Primrose, Vervain, Nectarines, Dragon Fruit, Morning Glory, Nightshade, Roses, Lilies, Poppies

Animals• Horses, Owl, dogs, bats, black bulls, Blue Jay, Crow, Sparrow, Snake, Turtle, cat

Zodiac • your moon sign.

Colors • Black, Dark blue, Dark green, Dark Purple

Crystal• Obisidian, Morion, Jet, Hematite, Onyx, Black tourmaline, Black Sapphire, Black moonstone, Black agate, Shungite, Black calcite, Eye Agate, Amethyst, Andalusite, Apophyllite, Cat's Eye, Hematite, Moss Agate, Moonstone, Petrified Wood, Smokey Quartz

Symbols• Black wings, Dark clouds, Black fog, Egg, New Moon, Stars, key, veil, poppy, serpents, owls.

you can wear in their honor• you can veil in their honor, PJs

Deity of• Night, she is the personification of it

Patron of• Night, Sleep, Death, the Fates, Nemesis, Old Age, Darkness, Light, Motherhood, Magic, Mystery, and the unknown;

Offerings• Black candles, Poetry or songs related to the night, Images of the night sky, Beef, Milk, Black flowers, Black fruits, Dark red wine, Black animal votives, Dew (the one that gathers after sunset), Dark feathers, Dark liquors/beers. Black Tea/Coffee, Symbols of Her children (ex-torch, skull, scissors), Black fabric/veil/cloak, Dark chocolate, Honey/molasses, Viniq (shimmery liqueur that looks like a galaxy in a bottle)

Devotional• Go star gazing, donate to owl shelters, go to the zoo to see her animals, draw her, listen to a playlist for her, go camping under the stars, go glamping to look at the stars, Take a night time walk, Get a good night’s rest, Learn a new star or constellation each week, Stay up late, do something you enjoy without fearing the dark, Sleep with your windows open, Burn a candle that represents the stars, Sleep in every once and a while, Watch an astronomy documentary, Be extra polite to those who have to work the night shift, Wear dark colors, Learn about which animals are active at night in your area, Go for a night drive, Do divination at night, Listen to music with your headphones in, Use silver, black, and gold glitter, Plant some flowers that only bloom at night, Use a star/constellation app, Read the House of Night series, Watch the evening light fade away into darkness (you can do this in your window, or watch a lapse on YouTube of it), Wear more things with the stars or planets on them, Defend someone who is vulnerableble, Turn your electronics off a couple hours before bed each night, Drink an herbal tea with cinnamon before bed, If you’re staying up late already, make your night productive. (Ex- Complete some homework, tidy up your room), Keep a dream journal, Learn how to identify owls by their calls, Make the night sky your screensaver/home screen, Wear scents that remind you of the night, watch a video of the stars, and sleep with stars in the background.

Ephithets• Bringer of Night, Mother of Daimones, Mother of the Cosmos, Subduer of Gods and Men, Mother of Mysteries, The Dark and Shining, The Winged, of the Great Shadows, Dressed in Stars, Dew Bringer, of the Witching Hour,

of the Deep and Silent Dark.

Equivalents (alike but not the same)• Nótt (Norse), Selene (Greek), Hecate (Greek), Nox (Roman), Nyx (Greek), Al-Qaum (Arabian), Nabatean (Arabain), Itzpapalotl (Aztec), Metztli (Aztec), Tezcatlipoca (Aztec), Khonsu (Egyptian), Nut (Egyptian)

Signs they are reaching out• Sudden fascination with stars, seeing her Symbols and attributes all of the sudden, a pull to her and the night.

Vows/omans• None, maybe wedding vows, but many say she just has Erebus as a boyfriend, not a husband.

Morals• Unkown, but most suspect Morally grey.

Courting• Erebus (darkness)

Personality• She is motherly and protective of her children,

Home• Tartruas

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Fact• The first Deity to exist,

Roots• Gaia, Birthed at the beginning of time, lived in Tartarus.

Parentage• Chaos

Siblings• Gaia (goddess of the Earth/mother nature), Erebus (god of darkness), Uranus/Ouranos (god of the heavens), and Tartarus (god of the underworld).

Pet• The two/four horses pulling her chariot

Children • Aether and Hemera (Day) by Erebus (Darkness), Thanatos (gentle death), Hypnos (sleep), she also made the spirits - the Fates, Sleep, Death, Strife, and Pain. Aether, Moros, Apate, Dolos, the Keres, the Moirai, the Hesperides, Oizys, Momus, Philotes, Geras, Eris

Appearance in astral or gen• In ancient art Nyx was depicted as either a winged goddess or charioteer, sometimes crowned with dark mists.

Festivals • Wiccan Yule, Wiccan Samhain, Winter solstice, you can do a ritual for her on the full and dark moon, but there is a feast you can hold in her honor, which is called Lemuralia.

Day • her time is Twilight, Dusk, and Midnight, and her day is Monday

Season• winter

Direction• north

Status• Primordial Goddess of night, even Zeus fears her, one of the first primordial beings alive, she was there for the creation of the universe.

Planet• Moon

Her Tarot cards• Death, Temperance

Scents/Inscene • Myrtle, Camphor, Patchouli, Lavender, watery, musky, earthy

My opinion • She is a very hard divine being to find information on, I hope this helps, but I've never met her before, I assume she's great, my friend says she is kind and calls her ‘Mother’

Prayers•

In general

Beautiful, black-eyed Nyx, cloaked in darkness, older than old, daughter of misty Chaos, mother of great and mighty spirits, I call to you. Ever-present one, you live in the shadows; we know you in the dusk, in the comfort of the night. Broad-winged Nyx, you clasp the hand of bright Hemera, each eve and morn, you greet her with love and sorrow for only in those moments may you embrace your child. Goddess, awesome one, in your realm are we all unblemished, in your realm do lovers’ promises ring true, in your realm are all things possible, if only until daybreak. Nyx, I honor you.

Small prayer

“Nyx, mother of the night, mother of sleep, mother of death: Might your darkness embrace me Might your energy caress me Might you be mine and Might I be yours Blessed be.“

In general

O ancient Goddess, born of Chaos and steeped in shadow, I honor you now and always. With eyes which have watched the beginnings of all that is, see us now embracing your sleep and mystery. With power that strikes fear into the hearts of the most revered of Gods,

I remember your strength when I am searching for my own. In the starless night where light shines not i will give my thanks to your Greatness, And surrender to the dark.

Links/websites/sources • Nyx - Greek-Goddesses Wiki - Fandomhttps://www.theoi.com/Protogenos/Nyx.html mystical-sleepy-musings <a href="https://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/nyx/">Nyx – Greek Goddess of The Night: https://greekgodsandgoddesses.net</a> - Greek Gods & Goddesses, June 10, 2018 https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nyx https://www.theoi.com/Protogenos/Nyx.htmlhttps://www.britannica.com/topic/Hypnoshttps://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/nyx/https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends-europe/nyx-goddess-0017255 https://www.worldhistory.org/Nyx/https://gods-and-demons.fandom.com/wiki/Nyx https://www.moonfallmetaphysical.com/s/stories/nyx-greek-goddess#google_vignette https://www.moonfallmetaphysical.com/s/stories/nyx-greek-goddess#google_vignette https://mythopedia.com/topics/nyx https://oldworldgods.com/greeks/nyx-greek-goddess-of-the-night/https://www.vintageisthenewold.com/game-pedia/what-does-nyx-goddess-look-like https://aminoapps.com/c/hellenistic-polytheism/page/item/nyx/Vn7V_bmCvIP7XMLvlKzJJbl2lGY55JLxDZhttps://thebacchichuntress.tumblr.com/post/127160005123/offerings-to-nyx/amphttps://www.tumblr.com/heatherwitch/161308460295/nyxhttps://tuiliel.tumblr.com/post/139053552874/epithets-of-nyx/amphttps://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_night_deities https://greekpagan.com/category/prayers-2/nyx/#:~:text=older%20than%20old%2C%20daughter%20of,the%20comfort%20of%20the%20night.Magickal Spothttps://magickalspot.com › nyxGoddess Nyx: Prayers, Symbols, Books & More [Guide]https://www.tumblr.com/moonlitmagic/189775766368/prayer-for-nyx

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

This post is payment to my friend @briislame

May Nyx cover you with the calmness of night.

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

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talonabraxas · 4 months ago

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Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Nuit and Hadit are two deities in the religion of Thelema, an esoteric philosophy popularized by British occultist Aleister Crowley in the early 20th century. Nuit is a goddess representing the universe, while Hadit is a god representing the center of the universe and all points of space and time. Nuit is described as the “Empress of Space,” evoking limitless openness and possibility. In contrast, Hadit is described as a “lord of limitation,” evoking constriction and containment within a particular point in space and time. Together, Nuit and Hadit symbolize two aspects of the spiritual experience, namely, the divine expansiveness and the individual’s journey of growth and self-awareness within a particular context. Through harmonizing both aspects, the Thelemic philosophy seeks to unify space and time, mind and body, and the earthly and spiritual realms.

The interplay between Nuit and Hadit is said to create the universe. Nuit is the primal power of the universe, the forms of undifferentiated unity and infinite potential while Hadit is the individual force that establishes perspective and brings into existence individual and finite phenomena. By uniting these two principles, Nuit and Hadit create an active interplay that results in a balanced and harmonious universe. This interplay of Nuit and Hadit is often represented as a yin-yang icon. This interplay includes all of the opposing yet complementary forces that exist in the universe, such as beauty and ugliness, good and evil, life and death. This interplay allows for the development of dynamic and creative existence, providing a base from which all manifestation can occur.

The precise details of what constitutes the “Great Work” will depend on each individual’s own spiritual journey and understanding. While there is no one definitive answer, it could be said that Nuit and Hadit, when reunited in consciousness, can bring forth divine wisdom and understanding, enabling the individual to realize the interconnectedness of all things and to live in harmony with the universe. This reunion is not merely a physical process, but a spiritual one. It calls for the understanding of the individual and the understanding of the Universe to unify and become one Understanding .

This can only be achieved after a long process of the individual committing themselves to the process of self-development and inner exploration. This is done through contemplation, meditation, magick, and various other spiritual practices that help to bring forth the truth within. As one moves through the process and develops a true understanding of the universe and their place within it, they can begin to realize the great potential of their own creative power.

We call on Thelemites to unite their divine expansive nature, symbolized by Nuit, and their divine contractive nature, symbolized by Hadit, within themselves and to dedicate their will and life in pursuit of the Great Work. The stellar union of these two powers will bring Light and the full realization of one’s greater nature and purpose. In those moments of divine illumination, one should also give heed to the highest promise of the Great Work — to go out into the world and enjoy life to the utmost. Let us, then, leap out into life and manifest the joy of Thelema in every moment.

Love is the law, love under will.

Nuit & Hadit @noeasyvision

The elements are Nuit—Space—that is, the total of possibilities of every kind—and Hadit, any point which has experience of these possibilities. (This idea is for literary convenience symbolized by the Egyptian Goddess Nuit, a woman bending over like the Arch of the Night Sky. Hadit is symbolized as a Winged Globe at the heart of Nuit.)

“Introduction” to the Book of the Law

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onefleshonepod · 7 months ago

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ID: A digital collage of "The High Priestess” tarot card as the Body from the Locked Tomb series. The card depicts the Body as a ghostly figure with both arms raised, dressed in a diaphanous blue-white robe, standing on a large crescent. In her left hand is a sword. In her right hand is a scroll. She is crowned with the headdress of the Egyptian goddess Hathor, a red sun disc with cow horns. At the top is another representation of the Body reaching out of a river, from Mermaids by Arthur Rackham. In the background is the Bird and Pomegranate pattern by William Morris. Behind that, providing the abstract landscape, is Avignon by Ralph Hotere, an influential Māori artist. The image of the Body is from Allegory with a Woman by Luděk Marold. The left side of the card shows the upright meaning of The High Priestess and reads, “Inner Voice | Unconscious | Intuition | Mystery | Spiritual Insight in all caps. The right side of the card shows the reversed reading and reads “Repressed Feelings | Secrets | Hidden Motives | Cognitive Dissonance” in all caps. The base of the card reads "The High Priestess | The Body” in a retro 1970s-style font.

My goal with these tarot cards was to choose characters who embody the meanings of the cards when you think of them, to make the cards intuitive to grasp for Locked Tomb fans who might not be very familiar with tarot. Discussion below:

The Body haunting Harrow is quite literally an inner voice and a representation of Harrow’s subconscious. She’s the perfect figure for the High Priestess card. It’s hard to represent spiritual insight better than with. well. um. a spirit who is a religious figure who also provides insights. The nature of the Body is also one of the central mysteries of Harrow the Ninth.

Regarding the reversed meanings, the Body is also emblematic of Harrow’s secret which is hidden even from herself. My personal interpretation (along with many others') is that Harrow sublimated her forgotten and repressed feelings for Gideon onto the Body throughout Harrow the Ninth.

With my visual interpretation of this card, I tried to preserve or nod to some elements of the Rider-Waite-Smith High Priestess card. As a disclaimer, the hodge-podge orientalist imagery of the RWS deck is a shameful product of its time, but the illustrations are iconic and well known, so I wanted to acknowledge them. I also wanted to use images which evoked the dark wet ghost imagery of pre-Nona art and fanon of the Body.

The RWS High Priestess, and mine, presides over two pillars, representing the balance between them. The RWS pillars can be seen as multiple different dualities (such as good and evil), but are often called are the Pillar of Establishment and the Pillar of Strength. I interpreted the left side (with the scroll) as Harrow’s path of completing the process of Lyctorhood and becoming a fully functional tool of the empire. The right side, where the Body is holding a sword, represents Wake, Gideon, and the path of heresy. Just as the High Priestess’ role is to mediate between the two extremes, the Body’s role seems to be to help Harrow on her own chosen path.

The crescent moon at the Body’s feet, in the same place as in the RWS card, is seen also in many depictions of the Virgin Mary. This is meaningful because (as has been more thoroughly discussed elsewhere) the Ninth House’s worship of the Body and the way this is viewed as heretical and idolatrous by the other Houses can be seen as a parallel to Catholics’ veneration of Mary. I tried to continue the Marian imagery from the RWS card with a subtle blue tint to the figure’s robes.

The pomegranates in the background, also a detail preserved from the RWS card, are a symbol of — well, what aren’t they a symbol of. Many things that resonate in the Locked Tomb series. Death, eternal life, Hell, being torn between two realities… I used the William Morris pomegranates because I love his prints.

Finally, the RWS High Priestess wears the headdress of the Egyptian goddess Hathor, which I kept specifically because the cow horns are perfect: the Body being the Earth and wearing the symbol of John’s first transgression against the Earth while also trying to save it. Hathor’s domain was to help souls transition to the afterlife, and she was often depicted as a cow.

#ours #tarot #tlt fanart #harrow the ninth #tlt #the locked tomb #the body #alecto the ninth

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aylacavebear · 4 months ago

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Touched Introduction: An Author's Note

Here's an introduction to what a Touched is. It'll help you get your feet wet and have an idea of the creature 'Touched.' I hope you'll enjoy coming along on the adventures that will soon be shared here.

Word Count: 579

Please don't take my work. I've put a lot of thought and work into this idea, and it truly is all mine. It took lots of research to make sure things were and are accurate. Your comments, hearts, and reblogs mean the world to me.

There are no warnings for this, as it is only some information for future stories.

----------------------------------------- Touched Introduction: An Author's Note

Touched are something of an enigma. It will, of course, depend on the story with how they are viewed by not only other supernatural creatures, but also hunters, and humans. Gods from any pantheon get bored from time to time, and they need something for entertainment. Sadly, that typically means messing with humans, as they are the most fun to mess with, since the Christian God gave them free will.

I personally like Bastet. She’s from the Egyptian pantheon and is the Goddess of protection, protecting homes from evil and women and children from disease and illness. She was originally a fierce lioness warrior goddess of the sun. However, her ferocious nature may have been softened after the domestication of cats around 1500 BCE. She also had both nurturing and violent qualities, but her shielding and motherly aspects are often emphasized.

Bastet loved humans but knew she couldn’t directly interfere with their growth as a species. She could, however, choose certain humans and give them her gifts through a touch. The gifts the human received depended on the human and how Bastet’s powers interacted with their DNA. The human had to be younger than the age of five, or things always turned out badly, so she’d gotten very careful over the years.

There were two special humans, both of which had been women. One over a thousand years ago, and now this new woman, born to a family and would be an only child. These humans somehow got the ability to have healing blood, a way to keep their loved ones safe in a way no other Touched was able.

The abilities of her Touched ranged just as much as their personalities did. Everything from being able to transform into a cat that could talk or telepathically communicate to being cat-like but still looking completely human. Some could even communicate with other felines. It intrigued Bastet how each human she chose progressed throughout its life. It was the ones who had actual cat features, like ears, a tail, canines, and retractable claws, that fascinated her the most, watching how they dealt with what other humans saw as not normal.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Bastet would meddle in the affairs of other deities or supernatural creatures. Like the time, in one story, where she gave her gifts to the Christian God’s biological daughter. Or, in another story where she gave it to a Nephilim. Okay, perhaps that happened more than just once, but it was well worth the outcome.

Sadly, Bastet could never interact with her Touched. It was like a curse. Once the gift was given, the Deity was forced to watch from afar, unable to guide them directly. Bastet sometimes left clues with the child’s parents so they could guide the child, but sometimes, things turned badly for the child.

These are the stories of Bastet’s Touched. There will be series and one-shots, perhaps even two-parters. No two will be related, but now you have some information when you get to embark on the journey as the Touched and learning to navigate the world in so many different scenarios. I hope you enjoy the fun little things that have played through my mind over the last almost two years when this creature creation came to me. I did need something that would survive the perils that consistently tend to befall anyone who gets too close to the Winchesters, no matter what universe they end up in or come from.

----------------------------------------- Touched Master List Main Master List

Permanent Tag List: @roseblue373 @flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @foxyjwls007

@hobby27 @megs-gadom

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santoschristos · 4 months ago

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Libra

September 23 - October 23

Thoth, God of Knowledge, and Ma’at - Goddess of Truth and Divine Justice

The zodiac series: Libra art by Johfra Bosschart

The tenth holy night of the Christmas season, from January 2 to 3, corresponds to rulerships, the higher intuition (Buddhi, life spirit) and the constellation Libra. In the painting below, Johfra (1919-1998) depicts characteristics of the Libra, and in the following text he provides an explanation.

The Libra is a positive sign, sky in essence, the sign the sun is at the beginning of fall as it crosses the equator to enter the period of winter. The ruling planet is Venus. The distinctive quality of this sign is balance and harmony. That is why the composition of this painting, like that of the Twins, has been kept symmetrical.

In the sign of Libra, the orientation of the soul changes. While in the preceding six signs the emphasis of the evolving human being has been on the self, in the following six signs the non-self is central to the acquisition of experience. It is Venus, the goddess of love, harmony and beauty who reigns here.

It is above all also the balance between head and heart, mind and feeling, which is the aim of this sign. That is why I also involved Thot-Hermes in the performance when compiling the symbolism. Just as I have pictured Mercury as ruler of the mind in his Egyptian form, so here also the goddess Venus appears in her Egyptian form as Hator, the goddess of joy, dance, celebration and love, with cow horns and ears. The two figures keep a balance.

On the one scale the feather of Maat – so again the soul-judgment, but then in connection with love-wisdom. The placement of Mercury to the left and Venus to the right of the balance refers to the kabbalah where Hod, the sefira who rules over the mental aspect in man, stands below on the left pillar of the tree of life (the pillar of austerity), while Nezach, the feeling , is at the bottom of the right pillar (of loving kindness or mercy). So here too the perfect balance between reason and emotion is expressed. Left and right absolutely need each other. Reason without feeling is sterile and deadly. The emotion without the corrective mind is just sentimentality and creates chaos. Both are very dangerous abilities without their polar opposites.

Nezach is the seventh sefira. Hence Hator carries a seven-pointed star between her horns. Below it is the astrological sign of Venus. In her hand she holds a sistrum, the ritual ringing instrument of the Hator priestesses. The four serpentine rods it contains represent the four elements that harmoniously resonate in the cosmos. Winding around the figure of the ibis-headed Thoth are the well-known serpents of the Mercury staff — the negative and positive forces united in harmony. In his hand he holds the ankh cross – the symbol of eternal life among the ancient Egyptians. At the center of his belt is the astrological sign of the planet Mercury.

The harmonic duality of the sign Libra is further depicted in the lower part of the painting by the two Assyrian sphinxes. These represent the chariot (arcanum 7) on the tarot card, which is associated with the sign of Libra. Here the two sphinxes pulling the chariot represent opposing cosmic forces, which work harmoniously under the guidance of the charioteer.

In the painting, the two animals are also symbols of the four elements in a positive (male sphinx) and negative (female sphinx) respect: the head is the element of water, the lion's front legs are the element of fire, the wings are the element of air and the bull's abdomens are the element earth – completely analogous to the four beasts of Ezekiel and the four symbols of the evangelists from the previous sign of Virgo.

The black and white checkered tile floor also refers to the harmonious cooperation of the polar forces at the foundation of the cosmos (this is the floor of the temple of the Freemasons). The lily in the foreground represents the serenity that results from the perfect balance between head and heart.

In the middle of the tiled floor is another Masonic symbol, namely the altar in the shape of a cube. The cube represents the foundation, because it consists of squares. This "cubic stone" is the "cornerstone", the Christ. It is the philosopher's stone of alchemy. This sacred altar in the temple, where the light of the spirit is always burning and never extinguished, was the Hindu symbol for our sign Libra. Officially, this cubic stone should be black and opaque. However, I painted it as a crystal to show the sphere, the golden seed it contains. This also contains the astrological sign for Libra, also in a heptagon, for Venus is related to Nezach (the seventh sefira on the tree of life).

When the cube is unfolded, the six faces form a Christian cross. In that case, the golden seed in the center of this cross. This image is directly reminiscent of the rosary, where the rose is also attached to the center of the cross – see the scales as a rosy cross above. I chose the sign of the Rosycross because this order also strives for the balance between head and heart in building the perfect man. The red rose is the flower of Venus, for it represents self-sacrificing love.

Furthermore, some other symbols related to the union of the opposites: the Chinese yin-yang symbol in connection with the polarization in primordial matter, the superimposed ∞ (the lemniscate, the symbol of infinity), the polar forces of the sun and moon, the spirit and the soul, interacting eternally. - Johfra Bosschart

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eye-of-mordor · 17 days ago

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TAROT CARD SERIES 2/21 The High Priestess

The third card in the tarot sequence that has the number two is the High Priestess, sometimes said to be the higher form of the archetypal woman. She is a gateway to the mysteries, as she has a lunar crescent beneath her feet, symbolizing the dark uncertainty of the future via the Moon’s shifting phases. Above her head is a horned diadem that cradles a sphere, which is an image reminiscent of many depictions of Isis, an ancient Egyptian goddess who was wife to Osiris, god of the underworld. One negative trait of this card is that it signifies a disconnection from her intuition, which warns her of danger. Because of this, she struggles to know when to take a step back and reassess the situation. Her neglect of her intuition stems from her innate attraction to esotericism and a desire to understand its secrets, even if they may put her in peril. Her lunar nature is contrasted by the sunny disposition and life-giving nature of her sister, the Empress.

#Tarot Series #Tarot #Rider Waite #Rider Waite Tarot #TROP #The Rings of Power #Rings of Power #Mairon #Sauron #Charlie Vickers #Galadriel #Morfydd Clark #mine #my edit #LOTR #Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings #occult

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rems-writing · 7 months ago

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An encounter with a Moon Knight

Pairing: Apollo!Hongjoong × MoonKnight!reader (platonic)

Warning(s): It starts out so well and then it gets depressing at the end

Genre: Fluff with an angsty ending

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

Context: Apollo is the god of music and the sun. He has a twin sister named Artemis, who is the goddess of the hunt and the moon.

Side note: ok originally I was gonna put the reader as a demigod. However, due to the fact that I didn't finish the PJO series on Disney Plus, I had to improvise

Once I catch up on the PJO series, maybe I'll write this trope again. But we'll see! Anyways

Includes: Yunho as Thor, Yeosang as Ptah, San as Hercules, Wooyoung as Loki, and Jongho as Sekhmet. There will be a tiny mention of Seonghwa as Anubis, but other than that, the ancient Egyptian god of the dead is completely gone. In addition, Mingi will not be in this as well. If you want to know where Seonghwa and Mingi have gone, you may read this so you can find them.

Thank you to @bunnliix for helping me decide the order of the fics I should write and post

In Greece's city square, people all around are doing the most normal things. From buying food/groceries at market stands to walking and chatting amongst themselves about whatever is going on in their lives, it seems like life is easy going, especially for the young god of music and the sun.

The Olympians know him as Apollo, but the mortals know him as Hongjoong.

Hongjoong was at a small cafe drinking coffee and munching on a sandwich slowly as he writes notes on empty staff paper, occasionally dipping his quill into an inkpot if he ran out of ink. He hums softly to himself whilst notating the melody at the same time. It was just another average day for him and he couldn't have been happier.

Until he heard a commotion from outside.

Snapping his head up, he looked out the window to see people gathering around or running towards the crowd to gather around. Looking at his surroundings, he waited until the coast was clear before snapping his fingers. The materials on the table disappeared, except for his coffee and sandwich. He packed up it and stood up from his table before bidding goodbye to the cafe's owner and exiting the small coffee shop so he could join the crowd.

He approached the crowd and squeezed through carefully to see what was going on. He asked one of the people for context on what was happening and that person simply pointed out something that was laying on the ground. Hongjoong turned his head slowly and his face paled.

That wasn't something.

It was someone.

As he got closer, his godly senses were on high alert. It didn't help that the crowd closed in on him now while he crouched down to see who this person was. A silent gasp escaped his lips as he saw the face of the person that was laying on the ground unconscious.

It was one of Khonshu's Moon Knights.

More specifically, it was the Moon Knight that Seonghwa Anubis explicitly told his godly brethren to not go near at all costs.

Y/N.

As the Spector twin laid unconscious, Hongjoong breathed in deeply before standing up to address the crowd.

"GUYS, IF YOU COULD PLEASE TAKE A STEP BACK AND ALLOW A BIT OF BREATHING ROOM FOR OUR GUEST! I'LL TAKE CARE OF THEM!"

His voice rang out throughout the city square and the people, albeit still concerned or curious, obeyed his command and stepped back as much as possible so he could pick up the unconscious twin and carry them to safety.

---------------------------------------------------

You didn't know how you ended up in Greece, yet you did either way.

One minute, you were with Marc in some random town to try and complete this fuckass mission Khonshu sent you guys on. The next minute, the both of you were thrown out of said town and went flying across the globe. You had no idea where your brother was and you were panicking. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you instantly knew that there was a godly presence behind you. Frozen in your place, you slowly looked up to see a kind man looking down at you with concern.

And he was pretty.

Soft lips, pretty nose, high cheekbones, brown eyes that were comforting, and an even prettier smile. His body was clad in an off-white t-shirt with some logo on it and a pair of black gym shorts.

What caught your attention the most was the tattoo peeking out of his sleeve. You tilted your head to the side to try and read it.

"No1LikeMe"

Even though your voice was hoarse, Hongjoong's smile grew bigger as you read the words on his tattoo out loud. You seemed calmer now, which was exactly what he wanted. He sat down next to you on the bed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Are you ok?"

His voice was soft and a bit high pitched yet it carried a light feeling as he spoke. You nodded and stretched a bit before sighing and looking at him.

"Thanks for rescuing me. Um... weird question, but which god are you? I sensed a powerful aura when you approached me."

"Ahh. That's fine. My human name is Kim Hongjoong, but in this city's mythology, I'm known as Apollo."

You nodded in acknowledgement to his answer. You studied up on a bit of Greek mythology when you were younger so to have the god of music sitting right next to you was a bit overwhelming but in a good way.

"How long was I out?"

"For about three days."

THREE DAYS?!

WELL SHIT

You laughed awkwardly and were prepared to apologize when you felt his hand grab yours gently. You noticed that he had his pinky finger painted in an olive-green nail polish. You thought that was unique.

"Don't apologize, Y/N. I assumed you were on a mission and somehow, it went sideways and you ended up crash landing here."

Seeing the apprehension on your face due to him knowing your name without you telling him, Hongjoong quickly clarified.

"Before you ask, Anubis told us about you. How he let you go since he would feel even worse if he took you to the Field of Reeds at such a young age after dying underneath the statue of Khonshu."

Upon hearing the old bird's name, you cringed.

"Speaking of that fuckass pigeon, we were on a mission for him. The enemy was strong and we got defeated easily. Hence, how I landed here."

Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgement as you clarified your unannounced presence.

"Ahh. I see. If I may ask, are you in a rush to get back on that mission? If not, I can ask my sister to fend off Khonshu whilst you recover and find a way to contact Marc."

Upon hearing Artemis's name, you nodded eagerly. She was your favorite moon deity and Olympian goddess so you took Hongjoong's offer up quickly.

"Will I have to do anything for her in return?"

"Other than maybe hunt some things for her, not really. Just recover. I'll help you find a way to get in touch with Marc."

"Thank you, Apollo."

"Just call me Hongjoong. Hearing my official name makes our friendship too formal."

You blushed out of awkwardness and Hongjoong patted your head before snapping his fingers. A record player appeared and his music was playing in the background. The soft melody made you relax and forget about everything as you laid down and fell back asleep.

---------------------------------------------------

That encounter happened three months ago. Ever since then, Hongjoong has been keeping up with updates about you through Artemis. As he sat in the same spot in the cafe and composed more music, his mind was completely in the zone.

Until Artemis sprinted into the cafe in her own human disguise and haphazardly sat across from him.

Startled by her sudden appearance, Hongjoong flinched and looked up. Usually, Artemis was calm and neutral so seeing her all frazzled and bewildered was unsettling.

"What's wrong, dear sister?"

"I've been given a message from Taweret. She said that you need to meet up with your friends for a meeting. With the urgency in her voice, I fear it's something bad."

Hongjoong nodded firmly and packed up everything before snapping his fingers and transporting himself from the cafe to the usual meet up place.

A secret room within The Colosseum.

He was soon met with the faces of his beloved friends.

Jeong Yunho, aka Thor Odinson

Kang Yeosang, aka Ptah

Choi San, aka Hercules

Jung Wooyoung, aka Loki Laufeyson

And Choi Jongho, aka Sekhmet

He saw a curly haired woman sitting in Seonghwa's Anubis's place and he instantly recognized who she was.

Layla El-Faouly, the wife of Marc Spector.

She served as Taweret's temporary avatar before so Hongjoong assumed that the hippo goddess asked permission to take over Layla once again since she can't leave the Duat.

"Hello, Layla. It's nice to meet you." Hongjoong politely said and Layla shyly waved. San raked over her awkward form and he was about to say something when Wooyoung whacked him over the head.

"San! She's married! And she's only here for a short time. So stop it!" Wooyoung hissed.

Ever since the Norse god of mischief started dating that Avenger in his timeline, Hongjoong noticed an air of maturity surrounding him. He was still playful and silly, but this time, he actually took things seriously.

Hongjoong noticed Layla stand straight momentarily before going back to normal. However, instead of the French accent she spoke with, a British accent came out of her mouth.

Taweret was here.

As the hippo goddess wrung her hands nervously, she looked to the rest of the gods, who were watching her intently.

"Um... so. I have an announcement for you all."

She breathed in and out shakily before continuing to speak.

"A lot of you are wondering why Anubis isn't here. Well... there is a reason. But at the end of the day, I am just the messenger."

She held out her hand and a scarab appeared. As it flew in her hand, its bioluminescent wings shone brightly to make a screen appear.

On the screen was Seonghwa

"Hi, everyone. If you're seeing this message, then that means... I'm truly gone."

Everyone gasped, including Hongjoong. Only Yeosang and Jongho were the only ones that weren't as shocked with this revelation.

They knew.

"I'm not really dead per say, but... I've decided to join the mortal world. My memories as the ancient Egyptian god of the dead have been left behind in the Duat. I am a new man in a new body with a clear mind and an open clean heart. You may be wondering to yourselves now. Why would I do this?"

Hongjoong had a feeling but he decided to let his friend say it.

"As all of you were aware, Y/N was in the Duat momentarily when that follower of Ammit shot my beloved twice and left them to die."

Everyone cringed at Ammit's name, including Yunho. And he was usually the brightest god in their friend group.

"I took care of them and made sure they went back with Taweret to the land of the living so they could stop Ammit's wrath. However, in the process... my heart was broken once more."

A quiet sniffle from the god made Hongjoong's heart lurch in pain.

"I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to keep them to myself. However, if I did, then Ammit would've taken over the world. And I couldn't have that. I expressed my frustration with Taweret. She told me that I could be reunited with Y/N... for a small price."

A lone tear ran down the god's face.

"Did I pay it? Yes. Was it worth it...?"

The god smiled sadly yet it was bright and full of love.

"Yes. It was. By the time this message ends, I will most likely be in a new body with a new name. Do not search for me. Rather... remember me and make sure my old name lives on. Goodbye, my dear friends. May we reunite again someday."

The message soon ends and Taweret made the scarab disappear before comforting a crying Yunho. Wooyoung was comforting San while Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look with Yeosang and Jongho.

The three of them knew that this day would come. And yet...

They can't help the small grins on their faces. After all...

Their friend deserved to be happy.

#mirohsaurorasociety #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #greek mythology #greek gods #moon knight

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