#i cant believe that you have made me hate my blorbo

[hannigrams-daughter]

You know, I just want her to break her marriage with Aemond and run away with Aegon and his children. Fuck Aemond.

As always, great chapter 🤍💫

1968 [Chapter 5: Artemis, Goddess Of The Hunt]

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: 6.6k

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“So you smoked grass in college,” Aegon says, pondering you with glazed eyes as he slurps his cherry-flavored Mr. Misty. You’re in Biloxi, Mississippi where Aemond is making speeches and meeting with locals to commemorate the first summer of the beaches being desegregated after a decade of peaceful protests and violent white supremacist backlash. Route 90 runs right along the sand dunes. If you walked out of this Dairy Queen, you could look south and see the Gulf of Mexico, placid dark ripples gleaming with moonshine. “And swore, and had a boyfriend, and presumably, what, did shots? Skipped class on occasion?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling sheepishly, remembering. You stretch out your fingers. “I chewed gum, I talked during mass. And I loved black nail polish. The nuns would beat my knuckles with rulers, I always had bruises. I wore these flowing skirts down to my ankles and knee-high boots. My hair was a mess, long and blowing around everywhere. My friends and I would do each other’s makeup, silver glitter and purple shadow, pencil on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner and then smudge it out. If you saw a photo you wouldn’t recognize me.”

Aegon takes a drag on his Lucky Strike cigarette, weightless smoke and the tired yellowish haze of florescent lights. Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth is playing from the Zenith radio on the counter by the cash register. “I’d recognize you.”

“I used to skip this one class all the time. The professor was a demon. I could do the math, but not the way he wanted me to. Right solution, wrong steps, I don’t know. I learned it differently in high school, and I couldn’t figure out the formula he wanted me to use. So he’d mark everything a zero even if my answer was correct. I couldn’t stand that bastard. Then the nuns kept catching me sunbathing on the quad when I was supposed to be in Matrices and Vector Spaces. I racked up so many demerits they were going to revoke my weekend pass, and then I wouldn’t be able to go into the city with my friends. So I stole the demerit book and burned it up on the stove in my dorm. Almost set the whole building on fire.”

Aegon is laughing. “You did not. Not you, not perfect ever-obedient Miss America!”

“I did. I really did.” You sip your own Mr. Misty, lemon-lime. Across the restaurant, Criston and Fosco are eating banana splits—dripping chocolate syrup and melted ice cream all over their table—and passionately debating who is going to end up in the World Series; Criston favors the Cardinals and the Orioles, Fosco says the Red Sox and the Cubs. The rest of the Targaryen family is back at the hotel watching news coverage of the Republican National Convention, something you can only stomach so much of, Otto’s cynical commentary, Aemond’s remaining eye fixed fiercely on the screen as he nips at an Old Fashioned. “I was wild back then.”

“And you gave it all up to be Aemond’s first lady.”

You think back to where it started: palm trees, salt water, alligators in drainage ditches. “My father grew up in a shack outside of Tallahassee. No electricity, no running water, he dropped out of school in eighth grade to help take care of his siblings when his mom died. They moved south to live with their aunt in Tampa, and my father wound up in Tarpon Springs working as a sea sponge diver.”

Aegon’s eyebrows rise, like he thinks you’re teasing him. “Sea sponges…?”

“I’m serious! It paid better than picking oranges or sweeping up in a factory. It’s dangerous. You have to wear this heavy rubber suit and walk around on the ocean floor, sometimes 50 feet or more below the surface.”

“What do people do with sea sponges?”

“Oh right, you would be unfamiliar. You’re supposed to clean yourself with them, like a loofah. Soap? Water? Ringing any bells?”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You’re a very mean person. Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example for the merciful wives and daughters of this great nation?”

“Painters and potters buy sponges too. And some women use them as contraceptives. You can soak them in lemon juice and then shove them up there and it kills sperm.”

“I suddenly have great appreciation for the sea sponge industry. God bless the sea sponges.”

“So my father spent a few years diving, and he fell in love with a girl who worked at one of the shops he sold sponges to. That was my mother. They got married when he had absolutely nothing, and by their fifth anniversary he had his own fleet of boats, a gift shop, and a processing and shipping facility, all of which they owned jointly. They just opened the Spongeorama Sponge Factory this past April, a cute little tourist trap. But my point is that they were partners from the start. My father listens to my mother, and she works alongside him, and it was never like what I’ve seen from my friends’ parents: dad at the office 80 hours a week, mom at home strung out on Valium, just these…deeply separate, cold planets locked in orbit but never touching each other. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted a husband who was building something I could be a part of. I wanted a man who respected me.”

Aegon watches you as he lights a fresh cigarette, not saying what you imagine he wants to: And how is that working out? He puffs on his Lucky Strike a few times and then offers it to you. You aren’t supposed to smoke, not even tobacco—it’s not ladylike, it’s masculine, it’s subversive—but you take it and hold it between your index and middle fingers, inhaling an ashy bitterness that blood learns to crave. The bracelets on your wrist jangle, thin silver chains that match the diamonds in your ears. Your dress is mint green, your hair in your signature Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo. Aegon is wearing a black t-shirt with The Who stamped across the front. When you pass the cigarette back to him, Aegon asks: “What music did you listen to? The Stones, The Animals?”

“Yeah. And Hendrix, The Kinks, Aretha Franklin…”

“Phil Ochs?”

“I love him. He’s got a song about Mississippi, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s one of my favorites.”

“And I’m currently getting a little obsessed with Loretta Lynn. She’s so angry!”

“She’s sanctimonious, that’s what she is. Always bitching about men.”

“Six kids and an alcoholic husband will do that to someone.”

Aegon winces, and then you realize what you’ve said. Loretta Lynn sounds a lot like Mimi. He finishes his Mr. Misty and then fidgets restlessly with his white cardboard cup, spinning it around by the straw. You feel bad, though you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t have a month ago.

“Aegon,” you say gently, and he reluctantly looks up at you, sunburned cheeks, blonde hair shagging over his eyes. “Why do you ignore your children? They’re interesting, they’re fun. Violeta invited me to help her make cakes with her Easy-Bake Oven last week. And Cosmo…he’s so clever. But it’s like he doesn’t know who you are. He might actually think Fosco’s his dad.”

Aegon takes one last drag off his cigarette and discards the end of it in his Mr. Misty cup. Now he’s fiddling with it again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t have much to offer them.”

“I think you do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do,” you insist. “You can be kind of nice sometimes.”

He frowns, staring out the window. You know he can’t see anything but darkness and streetlights. “I should have been the one to go to Vietnam. If somebody had to get shot at so Aemond could be president, I was the right choice. No one would miss me. No one would mourn me. Daeron didn’t deserve that. But I was too old, so Otto and my father got him to enlist. Now he’s in the jungle and my mother has nightmares about Western Union telegrams. If I was the son over there, I think she’d sleep easier.”

I’m glad you’re still here, you think. Instead you say: “Your children need you.”

“No they don’t. Between me and Mimi, they’re better off as orphans. Helaena and Fosco can be their parents. Maybe they’ll have a fighting chance.”

The glass door opens, and a man walks into the Dairy Queen with his two sons scampering behind him, all with sandy flip flops and carrying fishing rods. The dad is at least six feet tall and brawny, and wearing a Wallace For President baseball cap. You and Aegon both notice it, then share an amused, disparaging glance. You mouth: Imbecile bigot. The man continues to the cash register and orders two chocolate shakes and a root beer float. At their own table, Criston is mopping up melted ice cream with napkins and telling Fosco to stop being such a pig.

“Me?!” Fosco says. “You are the pig, that spot there is your ice cream, do not blame your failings on poor Fosco. I have already let you drag me to this terrible state and never once complained about the fried food or the mosquitos. And that thing out there is not a real beach. The water is still and brown, brown!”

“For once in your life, pretend you have a work ethic and help me clean up the table.”

“You are being very anti-immigrant right now, do you know that?”

Aegon begins singing, ostensibly to himself. “Here’s to the state of Mississippi, for underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines.”

“Aegon, no,” you whisper, petrified. You know this song. You know where he’s going.

He’s beaming as he continues: “If you drag her muddy rivers, nameless bodies you will find.”

Now the man in the Wallace hat is looking at Aegon. His sons are happily gulping down their chocolate shakes. Criston and Fosco, still bickering, haven’t noticed yet.

“Oh, the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes.”

“Aegon, don’t,” you plead quietly. “He’ll murder you.”

“The calendar is lyin’ when it reads the present time.”

“Hey,” calls the man in the Wallace For President hat. “You got a problem, boy?”

Aegon drums his palms on the tabletop as he sings, loudly now: “Oh, here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of, Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!”

In seconds, the man has crossed the room, grabbed Aegon by the collar of his t-shirt, yanked him out of his chair and struck him across the face: closed fist, lethal intent, the sick wet sound of bones on flesh. Aegon’s nose gushes, his lip splits open, but he isn’t flinching away, he isn’t afraid. He’s yowling like a rabid animal and clawing, kicking, swinging at the giant who’s ensnared him. You are screaming as you leap to your feet, your chair falling over and clattering on the floor behind you. The man’s sons are hooting joyously. “Git him, Paw!” one of them shouts.

“Criston?!” you shriek, but he and Fosco are already here, tugging at the man’s massive arms and beating on his back, trying to untangle him from Aegon.

“Stop!” Criston roars. “You don’t want to hurt him! He’s a Targaryen!”

“A Targaryen, huh?” the man says as he steps away, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his tattered white t-shirt, stained with fish guts. “All the better. I wish that bullet they put in Aemond woulda been just another inch to the left. Directly through the aorta.”

Aegon lunges at the man again, hissing, fists swinging. Fosco yanks him back.

“Are you gonna call someone or not?!” Criston snaps at the girl behind the cash register, but she only gives him a steely glare in return. This is Wallace country. There’s a reason why it took four years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to finally desegregate the beaches.

“We should go,” you tell Criston softly.

“Yes, we will leave now,” Fosco says, hauling Aegon towards the front door. Then, to the cashier: “Thank you for the ice cream, but it was not very good. If you are ever in Italy, try the gelato. You will learn so much.”

“I can’t wait ‘til November,” the man gloats, ominous, threatening. His sons are standing tall and proud beside him. “When Aemond loses, you can all cart your asses back to Europe. We don’t want you here. America ain’t for people like you.”

“It literally is,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “It’s on the Statue of Liberty.”

“Yeah, where do you think your ancestors came from?!” Aegon yells at the man. “Are you a Seminole, pal? I didn’t think so—!” Fosco and Criston lug him through the doorway before more punches can be thrown.

Outside—under stars and streetlights and a full moon—Aegon burst out laughing. This is when he feels alive; this is when the blood in his veins turns to wave and riptides. You didn’t think to grab napkins from the table, so you wipe the blood off his face with your bare hand, assessing the damage. He’ll be fine; swollen and sore, but fine.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you say. “You could have been killed.”

Aegon pats your cheek twice and grins, blood on his teeth. “The world would keep spinning, little Io.” Then he starts walking back towards the White House Hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the four of you arrive at your suite, Aemond, Otto, Ludwika, and Alicent are still gathered around the television. The nannies have taken the children to bed. Helaena is reading The Bell Jar in an armchair in the corner of the room. Mimi is passed out on the couch, several empty glasses on the coffee table. ABC is showing a clip they recorded earlier today of Ludwika travelling with Aemond’s retinue after he made an impassioned speech condemning the lack of recognition of the evils of slavery at Beauvoir, the historic home of former Confederate president Jefferson Davis. The reporter is asking Ludwika what she thinks makes Aemond a better presidential candidate than Eugene McCarthy, as McCarthy shares many of the same policy positions and has an additional 15 years of political experience.

“This McCarthy is not a real man,” Ludwika responds, her face stony and mistrustful. “He reminds me of the communists back in my country. Did you know he met with Che Guevara in New York City a few years ago? Why would he do such a thing?”

Now, Otto turns to her in this hotel room. “I love you.”

Ludwika takes a sip of her martini. “I want another Gucci bag.”

“Yes, yes. Tomorrow, my dear.”

“What happened to you?” Aemond asks his brother, half-exasperated and half-concerned. Criston has fetched a washcloth from the bathroom for Aegon to hold against his bleeding lip and nose. Aemond is still wearing his blue suit from a long day of campaigning, but he’s taken out his eye and put on his eyepatch. His gaze flicks from Aegon’s face to the blood still coating your left hand. On the couch, Mimi’s bare foot twitches but she doesn’t wake up.

“There was a Wallace supporter at the Dairy Queen,” you say. “Aegon felt inspired to defending you.”

Aemond chuckles. “Did you win?” he asks Aegon.

“I would have if the guy wasn’t two of me.”

On the television screen, Richard Nixon is accepting his party’s nomination for president at the Republican National Convention in Miami, Florida.

“He’s a buffoon,” Otto sneers. “So awkward and undignified. Look at him sweating! Look at those ridiculous jowls! And he comes from nothing. His family is trash.”

“Americans love a rags to riches story,” you say. And then, somewhat randomly: “He loves his wife. He proposed to Pat on their very first date, and she said no. So he drove her to dates with other men for years until she finally reconsidered. He said it was love at first sight. He’s never had a mistress. And jowls or no jowls, his family adores him.”

Aegon turns to you, still clutching the washcloth against his face. “Really?”

You nod. “That’s the sort of thing the women talk about.”

There’s a knock at the door. You all look at each other, confounded; no one has ordered room service, no one is expecting any visitors, and the nannies have keys in the event of an emergency. Fosco is closest to the door, so he opens it. A man in uniform is standing there with a golden Western Union telegram in his hands. Alicent screams and collapses. Criston bolts to her.

“It’s okay,” you say. “He’s not dead. Whatever happened, Daeron’s not dead.”

Otto crinkles his brow at you. “How do you know?”

“Because if he was killed, there would be a priest here too.” They always send a priest when the boy is dead. Aegon glances at you, eyes wet and fearful.

“Ma’am,” the soldier—a major you see now, spotting the golden oak leaves—says to Alicent as he removes his cap. “I regret to inform you that your son Daeron was missing in action for several weeks, and we’ve just received confirmation that he’s being held as a prisoner of war in Hỏa Lò Prison.”

“He’s in the Hanoi Hilton?!” Otto exclaims. “Oh, fuck those people and their swamp, how did Kennedy ever think we had something to gain from getting tangled up in that mess?”

“But he’s alive?” Aemond says. “He’s unharmed?”

“Yes sir,” the captain replies. “It is our understanding that he is in good condition. The North Vietnamese are aware that he is a very valuable prisoner, like Admiral McCain’s son John. He’ll be used in negotiations. He is of far more use to them alive than dead.”

“So we can get Daeron back,” Aegon says. “I mean, we have to be able to, right? Aemond’s running for president, he’ll probably win in November, we have millions of dollars, we can spring one man out of some third-world jail, right?”

The captain continues: “Tomorrow when your family returns to New Jersey, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be there to discuss next steps with you. I’m afraid I’m only authorized to give you the news as it was relayed to me.” He entrusts the telegram to Otto, who rapidly opens it and stares down at the mechanical typewriter words.

“I have to pray,” Alicent says suddenly. “Helaena, will you pray with me? There’s a Greek church down the road. Holy Trinity, I think it’s called.”

Obediently, Helaena joins her mother and follows her to the doorway. Criston leaves with them. Otto gives his new wife a harsh, meaningful stare. Ludwika, an ardent yet covert atheist, sighs irritably. “Wait. I want to pray too,” she says, and vanishes with them into the hall.

As the captain departs, Mimi sits up on the couch, blinking, groggy. “What? What happened?”

“Go with Alicent,” Otto tells her. “She’s headed downstairs.”

“What? Why…?”

“Just go!” he barks.

Mimi staggers to her feet and hobbles out of the hotel room, her sundress—patterned with forget-me-nots—billowing around her. The only people left are Otto, Aemond, Fosco, Aegon, and you. The fact that you are the sole woman permitted to remain here feels intentional.

After a moment, Otto speaks. “You know, John McCain has famously refused to be released from the Hanoi Hilton until all the men imprisoned before him have been freed. He doesn’t want special treatment. And that’s a very noble thing to do, don’t you think? It has endeared him and the McCains to the public.”

Aemond and Otto are looking at each other, communicating in a silent language not of letters or accents but colors: red ambition, green hunger, grey impassionate morality. Fosco is observing them uneasily. Aemond says at last: “Daeron wants to help this family.”

“You’re not going to try to get him out.” Aegon realizes.

Aemond turns to him, businesslike, vague distant sympathy. “It’s only until November.”

“No, you know people!” Aegon explodes. “You pick up the phone, you call in every favor, you get him out of there now! You have no idea if he has another three months, you don’t know what kind of shape he’s in! They could be dislocating his arms or chopping off his fingers right now, they could be starving him, they could be beating him, you can’t just leave him there!”

“It’s not your decision. It could have been, had you accepted your role as the eldest son. But you didn’t. So it’s my job to handle these things. You don’t get to hate me for making choices you were too cowardly too take responsibility for.”

“But Daeron could die,” Aegon says, his voice going brittle.

“Any of us could die. We’re in a very dangerous line of work. Greatness killed Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Huey Long, Medgar Evers, John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Vernon Dahmer, Martin Luther King Jr., does that mean we should all give up the fight? Of course not. The work isn’t finished. We have to keep going.”

“Will you stop pretending this is about America?! This is about you wanting to be president, and everything you’ve ever done has been in pursuit of that trophy, and you keep shoving new people into the line of fire and it’s not right!”

“Aegon,” Otto says calmly. “It’s unlikely we’d be able to get him out before the election anyway. Negotiations take time. But if Aemond wins in November, he’ll be in a very advantageous position. The North Vietnamese aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t kill the brother of a U.S. president. They don’t want their vile little corner of the world flattened by nukes.”

“Still, it feels so wrong to leave a brother in peril,” Fosco says. “It is unnatural. Of course Aegon will be upset. We could at least see what a deal to get Daeron released would entail, maybe his arrival home would be a good headline—”

“And who the fuck asked you?” Otto demands, and Fosco goes quiet.

“Okay, then tell Mom,” Aegon says to Aemond. “Tell her you’re going to pretend Daeron made some self-sacrificial vow not to come home until all the other POWs can too. Tell her you’re going to let him get tortured for a few months before you take this seriously.”

Aemond replies cooly: “Why would you want to upset her? She can’t change it. You’ll only make her suffering worse.”

“What do you think?” Otto asks you, and you know that he isn’t seeking counsel. He’s summoning you like a dog to perform a trick, like an actor to recite a line. He’s waiting for you to say that it’s a smart strategy, because it is. He’s waiting for you to bend to Aemond’s will as your station requires you to, as moons are bound to their planets.

“I think it’s wrong,” you murmur; and Aemond is thunderstruck by your treason.

Without another word, you walk into the bathroom, turn on the sink, and gaze down at Aegon’s blood on your palm. For some reason, it’s very difficult to bring yourself to wash it away.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s mid-August now, the world painted in goldenrod yellow and sky blue. The Democratic National Convention is in two weeks. You and Aemond are posing on the beach at Asteria, surrounded by an adoring gaggle of journalists who are snapping photographs and jotting down quotes on their notepads. You’re sitting demurely on a sand dune, you’re building sandcastles with the children you borrowed from Aegon and Helaena, you’re flying kites, you’re gazing confidently into the sunlit horizon where a glorious new age is surely dawning.

“Mr. Targaryen, what is it that makes your partnership so successful?” a journalist asks as flashbulbs pulse like lightning. “What do you think is the most crucial characteristic to have in a wife?”

Aemond doesn’t need to consider this before he answers. He always has his compliment picked out. “Loyalty,” your husband says. “Not just to me or to the Targaryen family, but to our shared cause. This year has been indescribably difficult for me and my wife. I announced my candidacy, we embarked on a strenuous national campaign that we’re currently only halfway through, I barely survived a brutal assassination attempt in May, in July we lost our first child to hyaline membrane disease after he was born six weeks prematurely, and at the beginning of this month we learned that my youngest brother Daeron was taken by the North Vietnamese as a prisoner of war. To find the strength not just to get out of bed in the morning, not just to be there for me and this family in our personal lives, but to tirelessly traverse the country with me inspiring Americans to believe in a better future…it’s absolutely remarkable. I’m in awe of her. And when she is the first lady of the United States, she will continue to amaze us all with her unwavering faith and dedication.”

There are whistles and cheers and strobing flashbulbs. You smile—elegant, soft, practiced—as Aemond rests a hand firmly on your waist. You lean into him, feeling out-of-place, bewildered that you’ve ever slept with him, full of dull panic that soon you’ll have to again.

“How about you, Mrs. Targaryen?” another reporter asks. “Same question, essentially. What is the trait that you most admire in your husband?”

And in the cascading clicks of photographs being captured, your mind goes entirely blank. You can think of so many other people—Aegon, Ari, Alicent, Daeron, Fosco, Cosmo—but not Aemond. It’s like you’ve blocked him out somehow, like he’s a sketch you erased. But you can’t hesitate. You can’t let the uncertainty read on your face. You begin speaking without knowing where you’re going, something that is rare for you. “Aemond is the most tenacious person I’ve ever met. When he has a goal in mind, nothing can stop him.” You pause, and there are a few awkward chuckles from the journalists. You swiftly recover. “He never stops learning. He always knows the right thing to do or say. And what he wants more than anything is to serve the American people. Aemond won’t disappoint you. He’s not capable of it. He will do whatever it takes to make this country more prosperous, more peaceful, and more free.”

There are applause and gracious thank yous, but Aemond gives you a look—just for a second, just long enough that you can catch it—that warns you to get it together. Fifteen minutes later, he and the flock of reporters are headed to one of the guest houses to conduct a long-form interview. This will be the bulk of the article; you will appear in one or two photos, you will supply a few quotes. The rest of the story is Aemond. You are an accessory, like a belt or a bracelet. He’s the person who picks you out of a drawer each morning and wears you until you go out of fashion.

Released from your obligations, you return to the main house and disappear into your upstairs bathroom. You are there for fifteen minutes and emerge rattled, routed. You pace aimlessly around your bedroom for a while, then try again; still no luck. You go back outside and stare blankly at the ocean, wondering what you’re going to do. Down on the beach, Fosco is teaching the kids how to yo-yo. Ludwika is sunbathing in a bikini.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You whirl to see Aegon, popping a Valium into his mouth and washing it down with a splash of straight rum from a coffee mug. “Huh? Nothing. I’m great.”

“No, something’s wrong. You look lost. You look like me.”

You gaze out over the ocean again, chewing your lower lip.

Aegon snickers, fascinated, sensing a scandal. “What did you do?”

Your eyes drift to him. “You can’t make fun of me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

There is a long, heavy lull before you answer. When you speak, it’s all in a rush, like you can’t unburden yourself of the words fast enough. “I put a tampon in and I can’t get it out.”

Aegon immediately breaks his promise and cackles. “You did what?!” Then he tries to be serious. “Wait. Sorry. Uh, really?”

You’re on the verge of tears. “I’ve been bleeding since I had the baby, and I hate using tampons, I almost never do, but Aemond wanted me to wear this dress for the photoshoot and it’s super gauzy and from certain angles I felt like I could see the pad bulge when I checked in the mirror, so I put a tampon in for the first time in probably a year. I’m not even supposed to be using them for another few weeks because my uterus isn’t healed all the way or whatever. And now I can’t get it out and it’s been in there for like six hours and I’m scared I’m going to get an infection and die in the most pointless, humiliating way imaginable.”

“Okay, calm down, calm down,” Aegon says. “There’s no string?”

“No, I’ve checked multiple times. It must be a defective one and they forgot to put a string in it at the factory and I didn’t notice, or the string somehow got tucked under it, I don’t know, but I can’t get it out, it’s like…the angle isn’t right. I can just barely feel it with my fingertips, but I can’t grab it. I’m going to have to go to the hospital to get it taken out, but I’m scared word will spread and journalists will show up to get photos when I leave and then everyone will be asking me why I was at the emergency room to begin with and I’m going to have to make up something and…and…” You can’t talk anymore. There are other reasons why you don’t want to go to the hospital. You haven’t stepped foot in one since Ari died; the thought makes you feel like you are looking down to see blood on your thighs all over again, like you’ll never have enough air in your lungs.

“Did you bleed through it? Because that should help it slide out easier.”

“I don’t know,” you moan miserably. “I mean, I guess I did, because there was blood when I checked a few minutes ago. I had to stuff my underwear with toilet paper.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Aemond you couldn’t wear this dress?”

You give him an impatient glance. “I’m tired of having the same conversation.” When do you think you’ll be done bleeding? When do you think it’ll be time to start trying again?

Aegon sighs. “Do you want me to get it out for you?”

“Please stop. I’m really panicking here.”

“I’m not joking.”

You stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have fished many objects out of many orifices, you cannot shock me. I am unshockable.”

“I’d rather walk down to the sand right now and strangle myself with Fosco’s yo-yo.”

“Okay. So who are you gonna ask to drive you to the hospital?”

You hesitate.

“I’d offer to do it,” Aegon says, grinning, holding up his mug. “But I’m in no condition to drive.”

“But you are in the proper condition to extract a rogue tampon, huh?”

“Two minutes tops. That’s a guarantee. My personal best is fifteen seconds. And that was for a lost condom, much trickier to locate than a tampon.”

Perhaps paradoxically, the more you consider his offer, the more tempting it seems. No complicated trip and cover story? Over in just a few minutes? “If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you. I will hate you forever.”

Aegon taunts: “I thought you already hated me.”

You aren’t sure what you feel for him, but it’s certainly not hate. Not anymore. “Where would we do it?”

“In my office. And by that I mean my basement.”

“Your filthy, disease-ridden basement? On your shag carpet full of crabs?”

“You’re in luck,” he jokes. “My crab exterminator service just came by yesterday.”

You exhale in a low, despairing groan.

“Hey, would you rather do it on the dining room table? I’m game. Your choice.”

You watch the seagulls swooping in the afternoon air, the banners of sailboats on the glittering water. “Okay. The basement.”

You walk with Aegon to the house and—after ensuring that no one is around to notice—sneak with him down the creaking basement steps, the door locked behind you. Aegon is darting around; he sets a small trashcan by the carpet and tosses you two towels, then goes to wash his hands in his tiny bathroom, not nearly enough room for someone to stretch out across the linoleum floor.

You’re surveying the scene nervously. “I don’t want to get blood all over your stuff.”

“You’re the cleanest thing that’s ever been on that carpet. Lie down.”

You place one towel on the green shag carpet, then whisk off your panties, discard the bloody knot of toilet paper in the trashcan, and pull the skirt of your dress up around your waist so it’s out of the way. Then you sit down and drape the second towel over your thighs so you’re hidden from him, like you’re about to be examined by a doctor. Your heart is thumping, but you don’t exactly feel like you want to stop. It’s more exhilarating than fear, you think; it is forbidden, it is shameful, it is a microscopic betrayal of Aemond that he’ll never know about.

Aegon moseys out of the bathroom, flicking drops of water from his hands. He wears one of his usual counterculture uniforms: a frayed green army jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki shorts, tan moccasins. He kicks them off before he kneels on the shag carpet. He checks the clock on the wall. “2:07. I promised two minutes max. Let’s see how I do. Ready?”

You rest the back of your head on your linked hands, raise your knees, take a deep and unsteady breath. “Ready.”

But he can see that you’re shaking. “Hey,” Aegon says kindly, pressing his hand down on the towel so you’re covered. “Do you want me to go to the hospital with you? I’ll try to distract people. I’ll pretend I’m having a seizure or something.”

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. “I just want it out. I want this over with.”

“Got it.” And then he begins. He stares at the wall to his left, not looking at you, navigating by feel. You feel the pressure of two fingers, a stretching that is not entirely unpleasant. He’s warm and careful, strangely unobtrusive. Still, you suck in a breath and shift on the carpet. “Shh, shh, shh,” Aegon whispers, skimming his other hand up and down the inside of your thigh, and shiver like you’ve never felt before rolls backwards up the length of your spine. “Relax. You alright?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely in there,” Aegon says. His brow is creased with comprehension. “No string…you’re right, it must either be tangled up somehow or it never had one to begin with. Maybe you accidentally inserted it upside down.”

“Now you insult my intelligence. As if I’m not embarrassed enough.”

“I should have put on a record to set the mood. What gets you going, Marvin Gaye? Elvis?”

“The seductive voice of Richard Milhous Nixon. Maybe you can get him on the phone.”

Aegon laughs hysterically. His fingertips push the tampon against your cervix and you yelp. “Sorry, sorry, my mistake,” Aegon says. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, on his temples; now his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m gonna try to wiggle it out…”

As he works, there are sensations you can’t quite explain: a very slow-building indistinct desire, a loosening, a readying, a drop in your belly when you think about the fact that he’s the one touching you. Then he happens to press in just the right spot and there is a sudden pang of real pleasure—craving, aching, a deep red flare of previously unfathomable temptation—and you instinctively reach for him. You hand meets his forearm, and for the first time since he started Aegon looks at your face, alarmed, afraid that he’s hurt you again. But once your eyes meet you’re both trapped there, and you can’t pretend you’re not, his fingers still inside you, his pulse racing, a rivulet of sweat snaking down the side of his face, his eyes an opaque murky blue like water you’re desperate to claw your way into. You know what you want to tell him, but the words are impossible. Don’t stop. Come closer.

Aegon clears his throat, forces himself to look away, and at last dislodges the tampon. It appears dark and bloody in his grasp. “No string,” he confirms, holding it up and turning it so you can see. “Factory reject.”

“Just like you.”

He glances at the clock. “2:09. I delivered precisely what was promised.” He chucks the tampon into the trashcan and then grins as he helps pull you upright with his clean hand. “So do you like to cuddle afterwards, or…?”

You’re giggling, covering your flushed face. “Shut up.”

“Personally, I enjoy being ridden into the ground and then called a good boy.”

“Go away.” You nod to where he disposed of the tampon and say before stopping to think: “You’re not going to keep that under your ashtray too?”

Aegon freezes and blinks at you. He smiles slowly, cautiously. “No, I think that would be a little unorthodox, even for me.” He pitches you a clean washcloth from the bathroom closet. “That should get you upstairs.”

“Thanks.” You shove it between your legs and rise to your feet, smoothing the skirt of your dress. “I owe you something. I’m not sure what, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey,” Aegon says, and waits for you to turn to him. “Maybe I’m not that bad.”

“Maybe,” you agree thoughtfully.

Just before you hurry upstairs, you steal a glimpse of Aegon in the bathroom, the door kicked only half-closed. He has turned on the water, but he’s not using it yet. Aegon is staring down at the blood on his hand, half-dried scarlet impermanent ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, it’s me again. I’m in solitary confinement. There’s a guy in the cell next to mine; we talk to each other with a modified version of Morse code. Tap tap tap on the wall, he taps back, etcetera etcetera, you get the idea. You’re not going to believe this, but he says his name is John McCain. Well, actually, he told me his name is Jobm McCbin, but I think that’s because I translated the taps wrong. I might be in the Hanoi Hilton, but at least they have me in the VIP section! Hahaha.

Every few hours the guards show up to do a very impressive magic trick: they wave their batons like wands, I turn black and blue. Sometimes one of my teeth even disappears. Isn’t that something? Houdini would love it. There’s a rat that I’m making friends with. I give her nibbles of my stale bread, she gives me someone to talk to. She’s good company. I’ve named her Tessarion.

Allow me to make something absolutely fucking clear.

I would very much like to be rescued.

[fave-fix]

hey guys do we realize that the main difference betwen how kai and midori developed is that kai was given the chance to learn what normal life and love and family was like by working with chidouins while midori was kept under asunaros thumb all his life. do we realize that just a few changes could have kai acting just as cruel and merciless as midori. do we realize that midori is a victim of asunaro too, and though that doesn't excuse his actions it does make them more tragic. do we realize this or are we all being serious when we say midori is the only character who isn't worth redemption.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

ac rogue is so perfectly everything i would want from a franchise like assassins creed and it SUCKS because to play it i need to swallow my pride and download the ubisoft launcher and its horrible

[ganondoodle]

I am sorry to hear that the depression has stolen your spark.

I want you to know that you are the sole reason I gave Skyward Sword a chance. Your art was so beautiful and compelling that I just had to know about the media it came from.

Your art introduced me to an incredible community that years later, I am still benefitting from. Your art was the gateway, and I've always been thankful to you for that.

I hope your spark realights, and I hope you can kick depression right in its ass.

i- i did that????? qoq

yes im reviving old reaction pictures

i hope im not ruining the mood bc .. this legitimately made me tear up and i kept thinking of this ever since receiving the ask-

but bc i cant keep my mouth shut (i apologize if you are already well aware of all this i just .. like to talk i guess), i ... idk i have said this before but i feel incredibly conflicted about demise (am i allowed to like him??? do i even like him when i changed him so much??? am i a fraud fan????) and the game he comes from, i .. dont actually like skyward sword that much, or, not as much as it may seem like (my favorite is windwaker, second is botw), every now and then i even feel guilty for demise being my blorbo tm- as much as i love him im under no illusion what his introduction to the series did, the games lore is not .. great, it seems to have kickstarted the decline of the series writing and completely torpedoed any sort of fandom discussion by making zelda a literal reincarnation of the good tm gods of love and light and peace and everything good tm uwu and pit her against an evil demonnnnn that just crawled out the earth one day (??) and was only evil and bad and dark and hate incarnate an hated the good tm gods bc hes jsut so eviiiil, it gave rise to the utter dissmissal of any sort of ganondorf related discussions (funny how it only seems to apply to ganondorf, and none of the other villains hmmmmmmmmmmmm) bc, while not confirmed confirmed (though the fandom likes to pretend that), hes now widely seen as a reincarnation of demise and thus, doesnt need nuance or be given any grace or thought bc apparently when you say someone is a demon (or its reincarnation, which i dont believe ganondorf is, to be clear) that means its fine to not give them any thought bc demons are just evil tm and thats ok and good writing actually (wat????)

(if you take skysw as canonically how it all went down bc my interpretation makes it all be a fabricated lie so the gods can play their little games, there is no godess reincarnation, that was a lie to make way for an opressive kingdom belivieing itself to be irrevocably good no matter what they do etc)

it also cheapens any of the past entries, all of them have been flattened by this, why disscuss ganondorfs motivation lol, he just be a demon/demons puppet, zelda could never be wrong or do bad things bc she literal incarnation of goodness uwu etc- (and then totk, only the second game after skysw, retreads its points and makes it even worse while ALSO trampeling over that game imo)

i dont like saying it, but i do feel a little alienated even from ganondorf fans (i love him too!!!!!) bc they hate demise, and rightfully so, it feels weird having your main blorbo be the reason your second fav is constantly done dirty, why you cant even talk about anything critically bc 'iTs jUst a sIMpLe fAiRytALe' now and part of the reason the lore in general has gone to shit, and i dont know how much i can talk about that before i become an obnoxious 'well ACTUALLY my blorbo, who is the reason for all this, is ALSO done dirty and im gonna explain away the bad stuff via my completely noncanon reinterpretation-' guy, or if i already am what im doing with destiny is like .. my way of trying to fix it and make it interesting again? though at this point i guess im falling into the category of people who change their blorbo so much that there really isnt anythign left of the og, which worries me alot, though i wonder if thats even possible given how little there is to him in the first place, i so often see viral posts that make me feel guilty or conflicted for the way i work with media, "actually my blorbo did all those crimes and thats good you all who need to explain away the bad things are weak and annoying!!" "people who change their favs until they barely resemble the character anymore should just make an oc instead!!"-

i dont know if i take these types of posts too literally, i dont know when or how they apply, but it always circles around in my head, i know not everyone can like what you do, but i want to work with the material i have in an interesting way, not a puritanical way (or however you call that), its not in my mind every second, but it nevertheless makes me doubt what i do with my fanworks anytime i talk about them-

... this wasnt really the point of the message was it ... apologies, i hope not every ask will devolve into a sort of mini rant ;__; i dont mean to invalidate what you said, (and im not saying skyward sword is all bad, its full of charm, from characters to designs, just the lore is .. damaging) it is incredibly touching bc me or my art having a positive impact on people blindsides me every single time like "WHAT??? IMPOSSIBLE you MUST be thinking of someone else, no way i could do that", when something gets brought up my thoughts just kinda start pouring out, i thought about deleting everything i wrote, but then felt like that wouldnt be as genuine anymore (i am not normal tm after all and im long past a point pretending otherwise) and have wasted another hour for nothing, so im gonne leave it in and hope, pray even, it comes across correctly

q-q

[sleepy-vix]

I found this interesting books ask :

https://www.tumblr.com/dnana-2809-blog/749706502296813568/bookish-asks?source=share

Do you mind if I ask, no. 13, 14, 15, 18, 34, and 50? Thanks...😁

oooh

13: "Name a book with a really bad movie/tv adaption"

ummm i dont actually have an answer to this. i don't really watch movies/tv very much and the adaptions i watch for my fav books arent that bad.

14: "Name a book where the movie/tv adaption actually was better than the original"

oooh i really liked little women (2019). ik i cant really say confidently that it is better than the books because i havent read all of them, i've only read little women, so 1/4 of the books, but i just think the movie is so great. i loved the book and it was cozy and precious but i ADORE the movie. yk?

15: "What book changed your life?"

hmmm this is a little sad but i wouldn't say any book changed my life... that's not because i havent read any good books though, it's more due to the fact that my life feels like a river with strong currents and i'm only floating along- with barely any freewill or the ability to change my fate (if u believe in fate. i dont believe in fate but i just thought it was appropriate to say)

thoughhh i guess if i had to pick one then it'd probably one from my childhood... harry potter? i hate jk rowling ofc etc etc but harry potter was what got me into the world of books i think... well ive always been a reader but harry potter made me really obsessed with being a reader, and the months after reading it was magical and full of joy

18: "Which character from a book is the most like you?"

oh, definitely tori spring. it will always be tori spring. she is me at my best and she is me at my worst and she is me in my dreams and in real life and in every life that i have lived and will live. no, i will not explain.

34: "List five OTPs"

ooh hmmm. okay this isnt in order tho:

1. Alice and Henry from 'if you could see the sun' (it is my favourite romance book T-T)

2. James and Oliver from 'if we were villains' (it's been years and i am still not over them. i will never be, i'm afraid)

3. Wylan and Jesper from 'six of crows' (they are so precious to me. i would kill for them)

4 tori and michael from 'solitaire'

5. pip and ravi from agggtm

honourable mention: rin and nezha from 'the poppy war'. i didnt know if they counted since they were always more enemies than they were lovers... sigh. i miss my doomed-by-the-narrative blorbos

50: "Why do you love to read?"

i've always been a little afriad of living life, tentative with my friendships, scared of adventure, afraid of change, etc etc. so i like to live vicariously through characters. actually, my love for reading has many layers and branches of reasoning to it, but i find that this is the happiest and plainest answer i can offer, so it is all i will offer (for now? maybe i'll make a longer post some other time

thank you SO MUCH for this ask :DDD IT WAS SO FUN

[quillkiller]

for the hot takes thing:

idk if they are hot takes on this blog tbh because the tumblr fandom has messed up my perception of what is popular and what is not but anyway here they are

i do not give a fuck about dorlene. i cant see it. it very often seems like forced lesbian representation to me. like, oh, lets throw them in here so that people dont say maybe i should have some sapphic women in my art if im trying to write about the queer experience. i read only one fic in my entire life that made them interesting and fleshed out characters. usually they are incredibly boring and i dont like it

marauderstok makes me a gatekeeper. i hate gatekeeping but then i see someone on tiktok talking about bartylily or sunkiller or moonrose or peter x barty and i just cant deal with that. they dont get them!!!! i dont even like most of these ships that much but i have moots that do and im overly protective of their blorbos. those people on tiktok dont understand bartylily!!! they are just into it cause it seems weird and unusual!! they dont see the vision of the pure hatred between barty and james that turns into sexual tension! they dont understand why barty would fall in love with peter and they try to make all of these ships into sketches!!! they are not!! those are my children youre talking about!!!

i am not a james fan tbh. probably because of how long ive hated him for. when i was a child and read hp for the first time the scenes with snape made me despise the guy. i spent years trying to explain to people that yes maybe he changed but he was still a terrible bully and nothing can ever excuse that. it got so bad my mom banned me from talking about james potter in our house because ive just said the same things over and over. 9yearold me was very determined. i know that all the marauders were involved but somehow it only affects my relationship with james. i know it unlogical but i just dont like him

on the topic of marauders and sev. i HATE the way fandom acts about it. acknowledge that your favorite characters were flawed! they weren't good people! what the fuck do you mean "i'm proud of james for bullying snape! someone had to do it. snape was just so bullyable"?? snape was a 11year old kid who was incredibly abused at home!!

again on the topic of severus. if i see one more joke made about his hair i'm going to go insane. are you guys aware that sometimes children are neglected so bad that their parents don't teach them things that are obvious to most of us, like how to wash your hair? have you heard about this concept of people not caring about their child and not buying them hygiene products? have your heard about poverty? have you heard about not having enough money to provide your child with all the things they need, including shampoo?

sorry for all that about sev. i am just very passionate about the way he's treated in this fandom. on the topic of characters being treated poorly by the fandom - dumbledore. some people truly believe that it's all his fault which is just so weird to me. he's obviously a deeply flawed man who made a lot of mistakes and i don't necesserily like him but i think we can all acknowledge that he's not the one who killed lily and james? like. he should've fought harder for sirius, obviously, but he didn't murder dorcas. he's not the ultimate villain that people make him out to be

i realise this is more about the fandom than the characters itself and i apologize it's just what's currently on my mind

whew lets get into it……

agreed. they often feel like the token lesbians that are just. already there. so might aswell just throw them into the story lmao and they wont have to flesh them out. i like my own version of dorlene, but yeah :/ people just aren’t interested in lesbians but what else is new

PEOPLE ON TIKTOK ARE TALKING ABOUT BARTLILY ????? jesus…………..

honestly i respect this so much... your mom banning you from talking about james made me laugh out loud…… Mad Respect

honestly. im very grey in this area. i like making fun of his hair unfortunately, but in other contexts i also think sevs greasy hair has a swaggy seductive lesbian flair. depends on how he’s being characterized. i saw a post today that was like ’cant help but laugh at people being angry about people objectifying fictional characters when they’re fundamentally dependant on being objects’ which i fully agree with. it’s part of litterature and film making that the (im gonna talk in film terms bc im a film student) that the mise-en-scene is an active choice, meaning that the way characters are dressed and presented is meant to, on purpose, reveal things about said characters. and often its driven by stereotypes that the audience has. severus is meant to look like a loser because he’s portrayed like a loser / and as someone who will be the victim of bullying. its simply the way his characters is canonically written and portrayed, and writers and viewers pick up on that. also im unfortunately one of the people who think bullying fictional characters is funny. it’s fictional and fandom, and never once have i stumbled upon a person who can’t balance the made-up fandom rules regarding fictional characters and their actuail real life morals. not saying these people don’t exist, but i certainly don’t kiki with them. fandom just doesnt affect real life issues in way some people sometimes seem to think. im personally a severus Lover and his biggest hater depending on the setting/hc’s/etc

i love albus, but i love him because i genuinely think he’s despicable. im not interested in his supposed reedming qualities and i personally dont think he has any….. he allowed teenagers to fight his wars and canonically didnt deny that he doesnt care for harry / and that he raised him like a pig for slaughter. its what makes him interesting. his childhood and early adult years make him one of the most fascinating characters in the fandom.. like i have so many feelings about him. he breaks my heart, he’s awful, he believes he’s good because he has good intentions, he yearns after grindelwald all his life and it was a 2 month summer romance, he killed his sister, his brother barely speaks to him. he’s a tragedy, but still despicable…… but i respect your opinion so much king thank you for sharing

MWAH loved these, thank you…. 🤍🤍

[ducktr0ducin]

what’s your opinion on DT17 Gyro? /gen

Ohhh boy let me try to find a way to coherently word everything.

So like. On his own DT17 Gyro is fine. Not amazing, but not the worst character in DT17. But as a Gyro, he’s incredibly. Not great? Like he feels like such a separation from every other iteration of Gyro to the point where if it weren’t for the hat I wouldn’t believe that they were supposed to be the same character (but even then the hat is missing the iconic strappppp). Even taking into account Barks Gyro, who is by far the most….. abrasive, DT17 Gyro still seems like a huge separation? Like whenever I see him on screen I just think “Oh, it’s Jim Rash!” instead of “Oh, it’s Gyro!”.

This is definitely not helped by the fact that Frank seems to think that a character arc is point a to point b (Aka never seeing gyro again after AstroBOYD). Like it would have been genuinely interesting to see how DT17 Gyro grows as a character from finally confronting his source of trauma, but we just. Never see him after that. (Look me dead in the eyes and tell me that you count Beaks In The Shell and his like one line from the finale. Even then in BITS he’s still. Incredibly abrasive. Like if you told me it took place BEFORE AstroBOYD then I wouldn’t notice)

Also the fact that he gets SHAFTED OUT OF THE FAMILY GRRR HATE THAT HATE HATE MAULING FRANK AS WE SPEAK. It’s like. Hhhhhh. In Glomtales having Beaks fight LP instead of Gyro while making a quip about it felt like the point of no return for me. Like in older canons he got invited to some family lunches and called grandma duck “grandma”, it was so heartwarming and yet. They just left it. Cant believe that Gyro got replaced with Fenton.

.

.

SPEAKING OF FENTON

DT17 FENTON JUST. ABSORBED ALL OF GYROS GOOD TRAITS WHILE NOT REALIZING WHY THEY WERE GOOD TRAITS??????? Like now he’s just the “default science man hurrrrr durrrr I know chemistry and am smartttttt” seeing Fentons past ancestor in the Klondike episode remake the gizmoduck suit made me consider manslaughter.

What also doesn’t help Fenton absorbing Gyros role is also just. My stance on reboot Fenton? I have a whole ass rant on why DT17 Fenton is my most hated duckverse character but that’s for another day. (I am. Definitely going to make enemies with this post lmao)

Anyways back to Gyro this post is about Gyro. If I had never seen any other duck media and only watched the reboot? Yeah, I feel like I would like DT17 Gyro. Growing up with the DT87 and knowing about other duck media other than the reboot? It just makes me sad that the cultural consensus on my blorbo is now just “asshole abusive boss”

Also super offhandedly DT87Gyro autism rep >>>>>>> DT17Gyro autism rep

Here, as a little treat for listening to my insane rambling here’s a doodle of the man in question

[cxrsed-angel]

🖤 show your blorbos 🖤

thank you @joelmillerisapunk for tagging me

tagging: @chaotic-mystery @josephquinnswhore and anyone who wants to share their blorbos

joel miller, no surprise this old man is on my mind almost all the time all day different au different situations just constantly thinking about him 😭 the amount of headcannons i have for him about the tiniest things i just love this sassy/bitchy old man

arthur morgan: i cry thinking about him deserved better love my cowboy so much i didn’t even finish the game after i learned how it ends i just played dress up and did side quests 😭

peter parker: ok so i know this may seem random because i don’t really talk about him on here but spider-man has been a special interest of mine since i was 7/8 and hasnt left my mind since. i love his dialogue in the comics my favorite (my autism was autisming when no way home was released) i have a bunch of spiderman stuff around my room and unfortunately havent read a lot of the comics bc theres so many but i think about pete a lot lol

hazel callahan: my girlfriend my wife!! i love her so much and miss her i think about constantly shes so caring and funny and silly i wanna kiss her

the creature from lisa frankenstein: my dream man and i cant believe he made me find cole sprouse stupidly attractive (but i had a crush on him as kid when i would watch suite of zack and cody so full circle moment. i love how much he loved lisa cutting of the penis of the guy who broke my heart/slept with my step sister is peak romance in my eyes.

jordan li: i love them so much i hope we get more of them in gen v season 2 they’re character is so interesting and one of my favorite queer characters and one of my favorite superpowers in media its so unique and i love how they handled their powers and character decisions i also love how theyre just themselves and know who they are also peak my peak bisexual moment was find them attractive in both forms

maren: i relate to her and i loved seeing representation for weird black girls and black girls in a horror movies I love her character so much

josie from bottoms: again love seeing weird black lesbian representation!! she was so funny and painfully bad at flirting which i relate to love painfully socially awkward and yearning black lesbian representation!!

tom wambsgan: he was so painfully awkward one moment than so confident and assured the next i think about him and hows he’s doing after the last season if he greg have kissed i love his insults they were so funny and specific his dialogue in general is just like perfect and wtf “You don’t hear much about syphilis these days. Very much the MySpace of STDs.” for example 😭 and i found myself strangely attracted to him and i cant pin point why

colin gray: emo boy😭 i remeber watching jennifers body in middle school and convinced i would date an emo boy but unfortunately they’re extinct lol hes the one boy i think jennifer shouldn’t have eaten and mentally we’re watching rocky horror together

lane kim: i think about her and her storyline all the time. she deserved much much much better and i hate what the writers did to her and in the a year in the life i can go on but in my brain her and dave are together still playing music in a band

honorable mentions: lazlo and nadja couple goals and definitely bi panic, queen akasha, and jess mariano,

[cantdance]

10 fandoms 10 characters tag game

rules: name 10 of your favorite characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people (i wont do that)

tagged by @lolotr almost a month ago. it took me a while to get to this, half because i kept forgetting and half because i legitimately struggled to come up with ten different fandoms i can claim to be in, but whos going to pass up a chance to rave about their blorbos

Final Fantasy XIV Online (FFXIV) - i love so many of the characters from this game. its not hard, the game is designed to make you love them. they feel like real people, especially in the last two expansions which emphasized their relationships with each other and with the wol (aka the player character). its difficult to choose one favorite but if i have to id say its gotta be alisaie leveilleur. despite not being relevant to the main story until the second expansion, her character is so rich and compelling. shes just a girl who wants to understand why her beloved grandpa left her to save a bunch of strangers, and she also wants to find out who she is and become her own person out of her familys (and especially her brothers) shadow. she also likes violence and explosions and how can you not enjoy that in a girl. unlike a lot of people who like alisaie, i also love alphinaud, and i love the way they interact. alisaie is my preferred twin but only by a slim margin. you can blame the backwards ass way i played this game for the fact that i love alphinaud even in 2.0

Marvel Comics - obviously its loki laufeyson! name a bitch more iconic. canonically genderfluid since 2014. your doomed by the narrative fave. raised by a father and a society that hated them for who they were, forced into the role of a villain to juxtapose their brother who was the only person to ever believe they could be more, at least until he didnt. killed and ate and burned themselves over and over to become something new. literally broke free from the narrative to become their best self but still a morally dubious shithead trickster in any (well written) form. my absolute blorbo of all time, dm me for a reading list

Norse Mythology - loki laufeyson again lolol. name. a bitch. more. iconic. canonically genderfluid since the viking age. born from a forest fire after lightning struck a tree. canonically hot but in a fucked up and dangerous way. odin was like "whos this hot weirdo" and decided they were brothers. your ultimate doomed by the narrative baddie. prophesied to end the universe. the god of fucking around and finding out. there are so few verifiable facts about this bitch, he is a complete enigma even among the rest of norse mythology which is already so fractured and weird. we straight up dont know how, why, or even IF he was actually worshipped. hes the only god to not have a single village dedicated to him. there are, like, two or three runestones depicting him. snorri made him into a jesus figure in the eddas but he serves so much cunt that he is repeatedly misinterpreted as literal satan. your fave could never.

LegendLark/Dames and Dragons - this is another difficult one because the characters are all so great, but im giving it to laika because i have a funny story about it. my first listen through i was in the middle of the gray manacle arc when i started asking myself who my favorite was. i decided it was laika literally the episode before she leaves 🥹

Dungeons and Daddies - i feel like my favorite should be scary, as someone who was once a goth/emo teen girl. however im gonna have to give it to my boi normally lee oak-swallows-garcia, the perky peppy chipper cheery mixed up mascot who doesnt know who he is anymore. imagine knowing your parents are disappointed with you at like, 14. imagine inheriting a generational curse except its a literal eldritch curse that you cant do anything about. imagine connecting with the mind of an incomprehensible eldritch being that is killing your reality out of loneliness and fear and hatred and deciding to show kindness.

The Locked Tomb - probably an obvious pick but its gotta be gideon nav. shes your butch sword lesbian. shes your jock trapped in a science convention. shes your tragic unloved child. shes your doomed by the narrative/came back wrong double threat. shes everything to me.

Paranatural - im not actually current, unfortunately. ever since zack changed formats ive found it difficult to read. i understand why they decided to do it the new way, but my attention span is simply not long enough. eventually i will catch up probably maybe. that said, my favorite is of course max. i just love how sassy and exasperated he is. he literally didnt ask for any of this shit. like he just moved to a new town where he doesnt know anyone and suddenly theres ghosts and he has to join an organization to fight them and his bat has a monster inside of it and he almost gets run over by a train, how fucking exhausted must this kid be all the time

Hunter X Hunter - its the only anime on the list baybee. i thought about including others but none are super current and hxh is the one that i still feel strongly about. my fave from hxh is the one, the only, killua zoldyck. my son. my angel. my precious catboy murder child. a boy who was tortured by his own family and trained to not care about other people and who was so lonely he latched onto the first boy his age that hed ever met. he is so full of love and he would do anything for his best friend, including kill people, but to be fair he would also kill people for literally any other reason

The Wheel of Time - my most recent experience with wot was rereading the eye of the world in preparation for the amazon show, which was a huge letdown for me and a lot of fans of the books. my last experience with it before that was when i was, like, 12. as a kid my favorite character was egwene, and now my favorite is...still egwene. she is a strong, confident young woman who knows what she wants and doesnt shy away from going after it. shes very strong-willed and doesnt bend to the will of others, she is unrepentantly herself. she also reads very heavily as a lesbian despite being in a (rather annoying imo) het romance with the mc. i dont think this was intentional (given the aforementioned het romance) so i wouldnt call it coding but like. shes a young adult who eschews traditional female roles and aspires to be unmarried and spend her time with other women how ELSE am i supposed to read that

Homestuck - very much NOT a current fandom, but it defined a great deal of my life, so i feel like it should be included. my favorite for this one may be the most difficult to predict, or maybe not idk, but its kanaya maryam. i remember the first time i was reading, waiting for my patron troll to pop up, and it was her. at first i paid attention to her just for that, but i fell in love with her pretty fast. i have a thing for female characters who go through arcs of self discovery and learning to value themselves outside of the opinions of others. something about starting out thinking youre a prop for other people and ending as a whole ass person is so *chefs kiss* also shes sassy and wields a chainsaw which is badass. i personally think her arc fell flat and she was underutilized in the end, but shes hardly the only one that got overlooked tbfh

im not tagging anyone mostly because i have no idea who i would tag. if youre reading this and want to do it, please do!

[nachodroppedfood]

THICKETY MUTUAL I WANT TO ASK ALL OF THEM!!! BUT ONLY ANSWER THE ONES YOU WANT TO

OMGGG YAYH ANYTHING FOR YOU THICKETY MUTUAL NUMBER 1

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are? SAMB FORUM, HAMILTON AMINO (UNFORTUNATE), AND THAT ONE DBH SERVER FROM LATE 2020

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of? JUMANJI 2, WONDER EGG PRIORITY, THE PROMISED NEVERLAND

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends? MYY THICKETY MUTUALS ARE CALLED THICKETY MUTUAL 1,2,3,4 BECAUSE I MEETED THEM IN THE THICKETY TAG AND THERE ARE 4 OF THEM. THE SQUINKYS

what made you start your blog? PEER PRESSURED BY MY FRIENDS AT THE TIME TO START ONE

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator? THE BEEST PART OF BEING A CREATOR IS CREATING. I LOVVEEEEE DRAWING MYYYY BLORBOS AND SEEING THEM EXIST!!!! THE WORST PART IS WHEN NO ONE APPRECIATES MY. DRAWING :-( VERILY DISAPPOINTING

what scares you the most and why? I AM SOSOSO SCARED OF SUFFOCATION/DROWNING! YOU ARE AWARE FOR 2 MINUTES AND NEED TO BREATHE BUT CANT!!! I AM ALSO SCARED OF GROWING OLDER, I DONT WANT TO GROW UP BUT ITS COMING SO FAST

any reacquiring dreams? I WANT TO GET A GOOD JOB INVOLVING ART! I GEET PAID TO DRAW SILLY THINGS AND SKRUINKLYS

tell a story about your childhood MY PRE K TEACHER TOLD ME THAT THE TONGUE IS THE STRONGEST MUSCLE. HOW WOULD I, A PRE K-ER, KNOW WHAT A METAPHOR IS? I THOUGHT THE TONGUE WAS LITERALLY THE STRONGEST MUSCLE. SO ONE DAY I PUNCHED MYSELF IN THE TONGUE TO TEST THE THEORY. I COULDNT EAT RIGHT FOR DAYS

would you say you’re an emotional person? MOSTLY NOT, I THINK

what do you consider to be romance? I DONT KNOW, I DONT EXPERIENCE ROMANTIC ATTRACTION!! I GUESS JUST HANGING OUT AND HAVING A NICE TIME AND BUYING FOOD FOR EACH OTHER. AND KISSES

what’s some good advice you want to share? STREAM ADO AND YOEKO KURAHASHI!!!! THEY ARE THE SINGERS EVER AND THEY ARE CONSTANTLY PLAYING IN MY BRAIN

what are you doing right now? I AM SITTING ON MY CHAIR, SUPPOSED TO BE DOING HOMEWORK BUT INSTEAD TYPING UP THIS THING

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do? ICE SKATING LOOKS SO O FUN AND COOL! BUT IM SCARED I WILL BREAK MY ANKLES. HOW DO YOU BALANCE??

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”? AT MY HOUSE, TALKING TO MY THICKETY MUTUALS AND OTHER FRIENDS WHILE I DRAW AND LISTEN TO ADO AND YOEKO KURAHASHI

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I WANT TO GET BETTER AT TIME MANAGEMENT AND STOP DOING EVERYTHING AT THE LAST MINUTE! I KEEP GETTING DISTRACTED AND I HOPE I CAN GET HELP

name 3 things that make you happy MY THICKETY MUTUALS, DRAWING, LISTENING TO MUSIC OR MY FAVORITE YOUOTUBERS

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens? OHHHH YEEES!! GHOST REAL! AND ALIENS MUST BE REAL, THERES TOO MANY PLANETS OUT THERE FOR THERE NOT TO BE!

favourite thing about the day? TALKING TO FRIENDS

favourite things about the night? SLEEPING

are you a spiritual person? SPIRITUAL? MY DAD IS BUT IM NOT

say 3 things about someone you love SOO NICE, AMENZING ARTIST, HUGGABLE

say 3 things about someone you hate MANIPULATIVE, CRYBABY, ATTENTION SEEKER

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for? IM PROUD OF MYSELF FOR NEVER GIVING UP ON ART AND STORYTELLING, I HAVE COME SO FAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fave season and why? SUMMER BECAUSE NO SCHOOL

fave colour and why? BROWN, IT STARTED AS A JOKE BECAUSE BROWN IS THE COLOR OF POOP. BUT THINGS YOU JOKE ABOUT BECOME REAL, SO THATS WHAT HAPPENED

any nicknames? NACHO!! SOME PEOPLE HAVE CALLED ME NACHO CHEESE. NICE

do you collect anything? QUARTERS, I FIND THEM ON THE GROUND OR IN VENDING MACHINES SOMETIMES. I TRADE THEM FOR FOOD

what do you do when you’re sad? I DRAWWWW AND LISTEN TO ADO AND YOEKO KURAHASHI AND TALK TO FRIENDS

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier? TALKING ABOUT THINGS WITH FRIENDS ALSO MY THICKETY MUTUALS BEING HAPPY

are you messy or organised? I TRY BENIG ORGANIZED BUT SOMETIMES I AM MESSY BECAUSE I IN A RUSH!

how many tabs do you have open right now? 6, ON MY SCHOOL LAPTOP

any hobbies? DRAWING, PLAYING PIANO, ONCE IN A WHILE COSPLAYING

any pet peeves? WHEN SOMEONE WONT LEAVE ME ALONG WHEN IM CLEARLY NOT RESPONDING! UGH. /NBH OF CORSE

do you trust easily? OHHHH YESS! MAYBE A PROBLEM

are you an open book or do you have walls up? NOT QUITE SURE WHAT THIS MEANS EXACTLY BUT I THINK I AM AN OPEN BOOK

share a secret I STAYED UP UNTIL 3 AM ON SATURDAY! IS WAS FUN

fave song at the moment? ASHURA-CHAN BY ADO! THIS WILL CHANGE IN 30 MINUTES

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why? I LOVE MANY YOUTUBERSS LIKE IZZYZZZ, LAVENDERTOWNE, KURTIS CONNER, DANNY GONZALEZ, JARVIS JOHNSON, OHH YES

any bad habits? PROCRASTINATING! ITS BECOMING VERILY BAD!