#vote 4 ocean
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Not the best composition but OCEAN. IM INLOVE WITH YOU.
#ride the cyclone#rtc#ocean o connell rosenberg rtc#ride the cyclone musical#ocean rtc#ride the cyclone fanart#vote 4 ocean
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Part of being Canadian is how similar we are to the US, and honestly not a single person on earth I think could genuinely pin point the difference between Canadian and American culture but the average Canadian. Americans assume we're the same as them (we aren't), even a bunch of Canadians think we're Americans, especially around voting seasons, and about half our cultural identity is "we're Not American!" but there are some cultural differences and if we all spoke French equally we could have had a language distinction but nooooo. Despite not being America unfortunately such a fuck off massive country right below your teeny tiny ass country (population wise) does result in a cultural avalanche from said fuck off massive country. Especially when you share a language.
The war of 1812 will forever be funny to me though because Americans were like "hmm maybe Canadians would also like to tell the British to fuck off, we will invade to show them!" And Canada was like *burns down the white house* and we've been tentatively chill with each other ever since lmao (even when we probably like. Shouldn't be cool with America but like. We could not risk that implosion politically or otherwise it'd be suicide).
#winters ramblings#apparently americans think they won the war of 1812 and you did not. you did not achieve your goal#and a bit over 100 years later canada would nicely ask sempi to be free and britian decided yeah i guess#you guys did a vimmy ridge in WW1 i guess you can be yourselves#and native people- still unable to vote and would be ineligible for another some 50 years or so- were probably like ??!!!!?!!!#REMOVE these pale faced demons!! and i cant say i blame them for that even if my settler ass does not mind being from here#no fucked up spiders very few fucked up bugs ok seasons amd weather where *I* live anyway#i cant complain too much aint no spiders the size of my head OR fucked up weirdo beez on steroids that look like some feckin#HUNGER GAMES ass shit and not an earth bug. if i lived on either coast though my opinion would be different#especially the east coast FUCK their ocean-y assed winters lake effect is bad enough. the SNOW BELT is bad enough#i cando without that shite too although outwest aint better especially in the praries but still no fucked up bugs so đ€·đ»ââïž#anyway i do genuinely believe if youre not canadian you wouldnt even know the difference between America and Canadian culture#OR the difference of history and even CANADIANS dont know our voting system isnt the same#like we dont even have half the shit Americans do like an electoral college and canadians STILL think we need to vote#as if we're in a 2 party system. we arent. arguably were in a 4 party system but 3 if you reasonably dont count Greens#its fuckin weird though because youll see people talk about canada and america interchangeably#and like i cant evenblame em when even some canadians get confused or WORSE actually WANT to be america#usually conservatives who like deepthroating boot#although i do think this is somewhat odd as a phenomenon because America doesn't have ONE culture#what canada is near idential to is NORTHERN Americans like the south is a whole Thing with a textured history#like obviously the north is too but culturally i get that more than what the south has going because you could even argue#the south have MULTIPLE cultures and in the north you could at least argue the coasts are distinct culturally#like they got terms like pacific north west we dont have ANY of that we are an EXTREMELY small rural country#its strange to confise it with America but at the same time like. yeah that makes perfect sense to me. and not all at once lol
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my favorite genre of tag on this post are the ones that are extremely in character:
pls consider reblogging for a larger sample size
#i love seeing who ppl r voting 4 in the tags but these ones r just extra good#there r probs more but like#image limit lol#qsmp#polls#images#reblogs from the ocean
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I want someone to do those 'what do you associate w X place' polls for Canadian provinces
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young ladies shouldnât waltz with vampires
a/n:Â happy halloween!!! here's the fic you guys voted on and shaped a few weeks ago
polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
summary: âso, hereâs the thing,â his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steveâs had, mystically bending your mind to his will, âyouâre gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we sharedâŠâÂ
warnings:Â vampire!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x vampire!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, historical au (1840s), mind control/vampire compulsion, blood, biting, age gap, ball, dancing, polyamory, threesome, first kiss, kissing, loss of virginity, somno, cockwarming, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, pussyjob, overstimulation, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex
word count: 3511
⌠gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here âœ
masterlist | join my taglist
âI have to admit, out of every rose here, youâre the most breathtaking.âÂ
Glancing up from the table before you, cluttered with crystal glasses brimming with refreshments, your eyes flickered to the man now standing beside you, his own piercing blue stare firmly directed at you and no one else in the buzzing ballroom.Â
Your stunned lips parted slightly before the gentleman boldly spoke up again, âhow come Iâve never seen you before?âÂ
Feeling your breath hitch, you managed to babble, âoh, itâs probably because this is my first time at a proper ball. I havenât really previously been allowed to come stay at my familyâs London estate andâ, Iâm sorryâŠâ you swiftly stopped yourself, sensing the heat that had ridden in your cheeks, âI donât know why Iâm telling you all of thisâŠâ
âWell, lucky us that you got let out of your cage and the rest of us finally get to gaze upon your beauty,â he flashed you a dazzling smile before his eyes flickered to someone behind you, âif youâll excuse me, I see someone I recognise, but would you perhaps grant me the pleasure of a dance a little later?âÂ
Averting your gaze, a smile tugged at your lips as you uttered, âyouâd have to ask my brother.âÂ
âBut Iâm asking you,â he dipped down to catch your vision, âwould you care to dance with me?âÂ
Blinking back at him, you couldnât help but let out the truth.
âY-yes.âÂ
As a smile swiftly tilted his lips, the gentleman then bowed slightly before you as he plucked up your gloved hand and pressed his lips to the back of it before disappearing into the merry crowd.Â
Feeling slightly dizzy, you finally snatched up the drink youâd originally wandered to this corner of the chamber to fetch.Â
Though as you granted yourself a small sip, fingers suddenly grasped your arm and yanked you deeper into a corner.Â
âSister!â you blinked up into your brotherâs eyes as heâd evidently spotted you from across the ballroom and, judging by his tone, not approved of what heâd seen, âwhat in the world do you think youâre doing?â
Ripping your arm free, you furrowed your brows, âwhat are you talking about? I was just getting some punch.â
âNo,â he hissed at a hushed volume, âwhy were you talking to him?â
A confused scoff then bubbled out past your lips, âIâve talked to plenty of men at this party, with and without you at my side, so why is he any different?â
âBecause, sister,â he leaned down a bit further, âheâs not a man. Heâs one of them,â his eyes scanned your own before he spelled it out, âa vampire.âÂ
Though youâd never previously encountered one yourself, you still werenât so naive to not be aware of the known influential status such creatures of the night had in the society you lived in. Them being in attendance at a fine ball was nothing compared to the other privileges they had achieved over the centuries.Â
âReally?â you couldnât help but glance back over your shoulder, though didnât spot the bloodsucker again.Â
âGod,â your brother groaned quietly, âI know mother and papa have kept you rather sheltered compared to myself, but trust me, you have to stay away from them. Theyâre monsters, killing is in their nature,â with a hand on your cheek, he guided your gaze back to his, âpromise me you wonât speak to one ever again.â
Blinking back at him, you then uttered sincerely, âI promise.â
âGood,â a visible weight then faded from his shoulders as he let go of you and straightened back up to his full height.Â
As you stayed on the outskirts of the party, one of your fingers curved to trace the lines of the fine glass still clutched in your grasp.Â
Soon your eyes flickered up from the liquid remaining in the goblet and landed on the other guests. Elegant crinoline gowns swooshed and swayed to the music emanating from the small string quartet in the corner, acting as a heartbeat for the lords and ladies of London as they danced the night away.Â
âWell, as I live and breathe,â a voice then found not only your brotherâs ears, but yours as well.Â
Twisting slightly, you watched as a wide grin swiftly stretched your brotherâs lips, âThomas!â he spread his arms out for the redheaded man nearly within his reach.Â
As they pulled each other into a tight hug, your brotherâs friend chimed in his ear, âhow you doing, old chap?â before withdrawing from the embrace, though still kept one palm fast on your siblingâs shoulder.Â
âNot bad, not badâ, oh, Tommy,â your brother then suddenly glanced back at you, âthis is my little sister,â gesturing betwixt you both, âsister, this is Thomas, we went to boarding school together.â
Extending a hand, you smiled politely, âitâs nice to meet you.â
âYou too,â he shook your palm before casting his gaze back upon your chaperone, âwould you mind if I stole your brother for a moment?â
âUhm,â you glanced to your sibling before uttering, âno, of course not. Go, have fun, catch up.â
And before the pair slipped away, your brother leaned down to whisper in your ear, âbe good till I get back,â to which you offered him a nod in return right before they both vanished from your sight and left you alone at the edge of the dance floor.Â
Though as you slowly began to wander along the perimeter, your gaze once again affixed upon the sea of swaying pairs in the centre of the ballroom, your gentle stride then abruptly halted as a bulky figure shifted to pass you, though as the stranger attempted to, the two of you collided and the remainder of the drink in your hand splashed across his jacket.
You both froze as you slowly peeled your wide eyes up from the stain of your drink, that lightly dripped from his clothing, and instead flickered up to find the stare of the aristocrat youâd accidentally bumped into.Â
âOh godâŠâ your heartbeat swiftly hammered in your ears, deafening out the elegant music that filled the chamber, âsir, I am so sorry, I-I wasnât looking at where I was going andââ
âItâs alright,â he hastily put an end to your blubbering as he eyed the soaked patch, âitâll dry,â he uttered, running a broad palm down over the wetness. Though as his gaze flickered back up to find yours, a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he then said, âwell, spilling your drink on me, the least you can do is offer me your name so that I know who to warn about to the people who actually are precious about their attire.â
âLady Y/n Y/l/n,â you averted your gaze as your knees bent in a gentle curtsy, âdelighted to make your acquaintance, even under the circumstancesâ, again, I am so incredibly sorryâŠâ
âYouâre a lady but with such lack of grace? Well, now I understand why you arenât on the floor dancing with someone,â he jested in a teasing tone.Â
The heat that had already crept up in your cheeks fiercely worsened, âI am a great dancer, Iâll have you know!â
âOh really?â a smile dazzled his features, âI think Iâll have to see that to believe it,â he spoke as the current song came to an end and he extended a hand out to you, âshall we?â
For a moment, you let your glance flicker about the chamber in search of your brother, though when you couldnât spot him, you found your own palm thinking for itself and gliding into the manâs standing tall before you.Â
Once heâd led you out onto the floor, the palm he slid across your waist, and used to guide you a smidge closer to his own frame, caused a shy gasp to slip past your lips long before your feet began to shift below your poofy plum coloured gown.Â
âWell, I guess you werenât lying after all,â you soon heard him note after youâd danced for a minute, your movements having been nothing short of perfection since the very first step.Â
Blinking up at the blonde man holding onto you tight, you finally asked, âwhat is your name, sir?â
âLord Steven Rogers,â the title rolled off his tongue as his own gaze kept yours captive, âat your service, my lady.â
âAre you from here? You donât sound it,â you commented on his accent, âbut are you?â
âThatâs a good question,â a slight tilt found his head, âLondon is one of my favourite places and I have spent many of my years here, but itâs not where Iâm from, no.â
âSo, youâve travelled a lot?â you asked as he spun you an armâs length away from himself.Â
âYou could say thatâŠâ he smirked as he twirled you back into his hold, âare you?â
âAm I what?â you found yourself slightly dizzy, though not from the dancing.Â
âFrom London?â
âWell, my family does have a place here, but I havenât spent much of my time in the city. At least not yet, Iâm hoping I can begin to now that Iâm grown, though to be quite frank, I have no idea where to start.â
âI could be your guide,â his offer caught you off guard, âit might have been a few years since I last called this city my home, but I still know it like the back of my hand.â
Mouth shyly agape, you simply blinked back at him a second before uttering, âperhaps if my brother came along as a chaperone.â
âI thought you said you were grown,â the tone he used to deliver his teasing seeped directly into your bones and made you thankful of his firm grip on you as the pair of you continued to sway to the music, âa girl asks for permission and canât be trusted on her own, but a woman however, takes exactly what she desires and doesnât let anyone or anything stand in her wayâŠâ his smouldering stare then briefly dipped before you heard him murmur, âso, what are you? A little girl or a woman?â
âIââŠâ you blinked back at him, struggling to navigate the exhilaratingly foreign situation you found yourself in. However, before you could stammer any further, the song came to a close and the surrounding couples parted ways.Â
Though before you could take even one step back, his hand kept you close a moment longer as he dipped down for his breath to tickle the shell of your ear.Â
âMeet me in the garden,â he whispered, causing even more goosebumps to erupt across your skin, âthen you can give me your answer...âÂ
The cool night air kissed your cheeks as your glance flickered away from the candlelit terrace youâd abandoned only moments prior in order to stand beside the bushy mouth of the dark hedge maze further down the expanse of the estateâs garden. Faint music still found your ears as it echoed out the open windows of the grand manor where the ball still boomed.Â
Then suddenly, as you were lost in your thoughts of disbelief at what you were doing, just before you could talk yourself into returning to the party, you felt your hand be grabbed before your eyes fluttered up to find the lord youâd been awaiting, his arrival haven been so sudden that it nearly caused you to jump straight out of your skin.Â
Without a single word, Steve began to drag you into the maze, far away from any prying eyes and where the darkness could swallow you both whole.
âWhere are you taking meâ,â you attempted to ask, though as the man then abruptly stopped, what he did next stunned you to your very core.Â
Pulling you close, closer than youâd ever been to any man before, he then pressed his lips to your own, sufficiently shutting you up before you could elaborate your question any further.Â
The kiss was abrupt, fevered and entirely your first, leaving you dazed and reeling to catch up to the reality, to the dream you were finally expecting.
When Steve finally felt you relax into him, his feet began to shuffle and shift you back till your spine was pressed up against the denseness of the hedge behind you.Â
But just as a shy whimper from you vibrated against his tongue and your fingers drifted up to whisper around his silky necktie, the snapping of a twig suddenly found your ears and caused you to jump away from your dance partner.Â
Casting your glance over Steveâs broad shoulder, you spotted as the dark-haired gentleman, that your brother had so fiercely warmed you about, slithered out from the embrace of the shadows.Â
âOh, donât stop on my account,â the man smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest as he continued to stare.Â
Eyes wide, you then began to stammer, âSteve,â lightly patting your partnerâs arm as he hadnât yet shifted to protect you with an air of understanding, âh-heâs aââÂ
âA vampire?â the aristocratic creature raised an eyebrow, âhow about you take another look at the lord that just had his tongue down your throat.âÂ
Your panicked glare then fluttered back to Steve in front of you, however, before you could manage to push him away, his hands flew up to either side of your face and he dipped down to stare into your eyes with an intense youâd never witnessed before, somehow locking you up in his gaze as he then compelled you, âdonât scream,â and under the moonlight, you swore you saw his pupils briefly dilate as his wish slithered into your soul, âstay calm.âÂ
Continuing to cup your cheeks, Steve then kissed you once again. Even though his previous words had turned you completely docile in his hold, the sensation of his lips as they soon pecked away from your own, on a determined journey down over your jaw, caused you to melt away that much further.
The neckline of your deep purple gown was so wide that it exposed not only your shoulders, but also crept down scandalously low on your chest.Â
Your eyes fluttered shut once more as his kisses tickled in their path down your neck, the sensation shooting straight down between your thighs. However, as soon as Steveâs lips were devouring the tender spot where the base of your throat blossomed into your shoulder, a sharp pain suddenly caused your eyes to snap back open as the vampire had sunk his teeth into you.Â
You winced slightly as blood began to trickle free, your gaze locked with the other manâs as he took a step forward and closed the gap. Standing directly behind Steve, his hand then raised up to stroke your hair.
âSo, hereâs the thing,â his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steveâs had, mystically bending your mind to his will, âyouâre gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we sharedâŠâÂ
Though youâd barely gotten to sleep an hour, you began to stir as the vampire sprawled out in front of your slumbering form kissed down your neck and swiftly sank his fangs into your shoulder.Â
Wincing awake and still weak from the blood the two lords had already drained you off, your hiss soon faded into a mumble, âBuckâŠâ
Tilting his chin back a bit, Bucky lapped up the crimson that trickled down from the bite before he whispered, âshh, you can just stay asleepâŠâ and you noticed his hardness straining against you below the covers, âitâs okay, I donât mindâŠâ
You couldnât fathom how the vampire still wasnât satiated after everything that had happened that night, things a lady such as yourself had never dared to even imagine possible. Even now, you were still slotted in between the two naked men under the canopy of a bed in the grand estate theyâd taken you to, your virgin blood still staining the sheets, or the little of it that they hadnât lapped up for themselves to savour.Â
Though the restless one before you had stirred you for another taste, Steve was still sleeping like a rock. He was laying directly behind you, his burly chest still pressed up against your spine as earlier, when heâd impulsively tried to stretch out your ass, made the decision to do something about that impossible tightness and have that little hole warm his intimidating girth while he slumbered. It made it difficult, to say the least, for rest to come to you as the sensation of his fat cock plugging you up was nearly too much for you to bear.Â
âOh, what is it?â Bucky chuckled lowly at the wince you let out as he began to nudge his dick against your puffy pussy, âare you sore?â he asked in a mocking tone, grinning wider as you nodded hazily in response, âbut you like it, donât you?â he torturously tapped the weight of his length against the creamy mess between your thighs, the sensation causing both your holes to throb and clench, making Steveâs cock still embedded deep within you seem that much more enormous, âyou like it when it hurts, when the sting of pain mixes with pleasureâŠâ he then caught your eye and compelled you, âtell me that you like it.â
âI like it,â you hear the desperate word flow out your lungs, âplease donât stop, please keep hurting me, keep biting me, drink every drop of my blood, use me however you wish, it all feels so goodâ, ah!â the pleas heâd made you utter were then cut off by a rippling moan as his bulbous tip suddenly caught your entrance and greedily slid back into your warmth.Â
The fierce rhythm Bucky swiftly found rocked you so roughly that the movements didnât just split your poor pussy open as he bucked up into you, but it also caused your frame to shift back against Steve and sink you down that much further on his cock, letting his heavy sack nuzzle tightly against your slick skin.Â
As your whimpers filled the room and mingled with Buckyâs own grunts of pleasure, you felt the girth in your ass twitch and rapidly grow painfully hard before the arm the slumbering bloodsucker had slumped around your waist tightened as he stirred with a low rumble directly in your ear.Â
âMmm⊠having a little midnight snack, are we?â Steve groggily hummed from behind you as he nuzzled his nose into your tousled hair, âyou know sheâll pass out soon if we keep drinking like this.â
âYou say that like itâs a bad thing,â Bucky then slid his palm down the length of your arm, plucking up your hand till his lips ghosted against it. However, just as you let yourself hope that heâd just plant a peck upon your palm, his teeth instead pierced the flesh, right below your thumb. Although, the vampire did show some restraint as he only offered you a little nip before ripping your hand away from his mouth and holding it out for his partner to grasp, âhere, you look parched,â blood already began to pool like a little puddle in your palm from how it slowly oozes out of the wound.Â
Accepting the delicacy, Steve first dragged his silky tongue over the bite, before he let his fangs sink into you with a deep groan, the taste of you only making him harder. As he began to drink from your palm, his hips greedily began to rock, making you tremble between the two lords of the night from the dizzying manner they both now fucked you.Â
As your moans filled the night air, Buckyâs fingers found your face in a caress before he leaned in to snuff out your sounds and let you taste the tangy iron of yourself on his tongue. Soon, his kisses began to dance down over the column of your neck, till his face was buried in your heaving tits, leaving a blossoming trail of hickeys to mark his path as he moved down to capture your nipple between his lips. Â
âI know we usually only keep our dinner till the morning comes,â Bucky muttered as he nipped at your boobs, only pausing to briefly glance over your shoulder at the man behind you, âbut thereâs something different about this one, donât you agree, Steve?âÂ
âSheâs fucking deliciousâŠâ you heard him purr in your ear, âmaybe you could be more than just a quick bite to eatâŠâ both of their cocks continued to rock in harmony, filling your holes up to more than the brim, âmaybe you can be our girlâŠâÂ
Sucking in a shaky breath, you tilted your head to catch both of their eyes, âfor how long?âÂ
Keeping his neck tilted, Bucky blinked up at you and uttered, ââŠforever,â before he buried his teeth into the soft peak of your tit.
© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubbleÂ
#leaâs writing#autumn 2024 poll fic#bucky barnes smut#steve rogers smut#stucky smut#vampire!bucky barnes#vampire!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#vampire!steve rogers#vampire!steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x reader#stucky x reader#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x female reader#bucky barnes x female reader#dark!bucky barnes#dark!steve rogers
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1968 [Chapter 4: Zeus, God Of Thunder]
A/N: Can you believe we're already 1/3 done with this series?? I sure can't! I hope you enjoy Chapter 4. I'm so excited to show you where we're headed. The times are indeed a-changin'... đ
Series Summary:Â 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: Aemondâs 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:Â 7.3k
Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji @sunnysideaeggs @minttea07 @babyblue711
đ All of my writing can be found HERE! đ
You unzip the floral suitcase that Alicent gave the nurses to pack for you. Inside are the hundreds of greeting cards sent by people from the Atlantic to the Rockies; downstairs, Eudoxia is distributing a dozen bouquets of flowers throughout the house with appropriate grimness, and more arrive each hour. You lift cards out of the suitcase by the handful and lay them down on your bed. Every movement feels slow, every thought muddled, bare feet in cold wet sand that swallows you to your ankles. The windows are open, the sheer curtains billowing. The wind whips in off the ocean, smelling of brine and sun glare, life and death.
Aemond emerges from the bathroom in a gale of steam. He finishes adjusting his eyepatch and then dresses himself: white shorts, blue polo. Aemond wears a lot of blue. It is Greek, is it American, it is the Democratic Party, it is the color of the sky that was once believed to hold Olympus, it is everything heâs ever been or wanted to be. Heâs humming The House Of The Rising Sun. Itâs the first time youâve truly been alone since the night before he caught his flight to Tacoma.
Beneath the greeting cards you find the books, cosmetics, and three new sundresses, none of which you ended up wearing home. Alicent bought you a plain black shift dress, matching gloves and flats, and opaque sunglasses to hide your face from the journalists who waited outside the hospital. And there is one last item to unpack. At the bottom of the suitcase is a clear plastic bag containing fabric, white dotted with bruises of common blue violets. At first you are confounded, and then you turn it over to see the dark, saturated stain of crimson. Itâs the sundress you were wearing the day you were rushed to Mount Sinai to have Ari. The nurses hadnât known if you wanted to keep it, burn it, bury it.
âWhy didnât you come back?â
Aemondâs brow furrows, like heâs surprised by the question. He goes to his writing desk and turns the chair around so itâs facing you. He sits, crosses one leg over the other, leans back and hides his hands in his pockets. His tone is gentle, but his gaze is hard. âBy the time I heard that youâd had the baby, it was already over. You were out of surgery, he was in an incubator, and that was the immutable reality. I figured there was nothing I could do at that point to improve the outcome. And thatâs true. Me flying back early wouldnât have changed anything.â
âBut you should have been there,â you insist, eyes wet, voice quivering. âYou should have known him like I did.â
âWinning Washington was important.â
âWashington is a basket of votes, Ari was our child, he was real.â
âNo one told me he was dyingââ
âBecause you didnât pick up the fucking phone.â
Aemond is incredulous, like he couldnât have heard you correctly. âItâs not like I was playing golf or drinking myself under some bar, I was campaigning 20 hours a day and it worked.â
âNothing on earth could have kept me away from you when you got shot in Palm Beach.â
âSo maybe it wasnât just about Washington,â Aemond says, and his words arenât gentle anymore. They are razored, dauntless, daring you to battle him. âItâs about the whole picture, itâs about the momentum. If I had underperformed in Washington, the dominoes would fall in Kentucky, and Utah, and Virginia, and then at the national convention in August, and then against Nixon in November. I donât have the luxury of disappearing from the public eye to sit adoringly by your bedside when we both know there isnât a single goddamn thing I can do to help.â
âIt would have made you look like a better man.â
âBut not a better president.â
And like a fracture being snapped back into place, you remember what Aegon said on that bloodstained night in Florida: Youâre a vessel. Youâre a cow. And one day heâll be done with you. You stare down at the ruined dress entombed in plastic, still clutched in your hands. You donât dare to let Aemond see your eyes. Youâre afraid you wonât be able to disguise the betrayal glistening there. You ask, a whisper, a whimper: âWhy arenât you sad?â I thought you loved him. I thought you were always so worried about him.
âOf course Iâm sad,â Aemond says, more kindly now, patiently, like heâs speaking to someone who canât be expected to comprehend. âBut itâs different for the mother.â
You canât reply. If you do, something lethal will pour out, smoke and poison and arrows, something that shoots to kill. Ari was quietly interred at the Targaryen family mausoleum in Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park. It had felt so wrong to leave his tiny casket there in a silent stone prison full of strangers.
Aemond is behind you now, trying to knead the tension out of your shoulders. And for the first time in two years, you wish heâd stop touching you. Your belly hurts, your head hurts, your heart hurts, you are a garden blooming with bruises and scars. âI know you arenât in your right mind. Everything will be better soon. I promise.â
Tears gather on your eyelashes. âI miss him.â
âWeâll have others. Here, let me take thatâŠâ Aemond grabs the bag holding your ruined dress and itâs out of your reach before you can think to resist. âYou should get ready for dinner.â
âOkay,â you reply numbly, now gazing down at your empty palms. Aemond leaves with his grisly parcel, and you never see it again. But once heâs gone you donât shed your black mourning dress, blood-soaked pad, bandages, and shake loose your hair and step into the shower. Instead, you walk around the bed to pick up the mint green rotary phone on your nightstand. You speak to a series of operators before you reach the Harbour Rocks Hotel in Sydney. While you listen to the ringing through the intercontinental wire, you sit down on the bed. Youâve never felt low like this. Youâve never felt so unmoored from everything you had believed about your life.
A gruff, familiar voice answers. Heâs just waking up, slurping on his morning coffee, dabbing his moustache with a napkin. âHello?â
âDaddy, I donât think Iâm where Iâm supposed to be.â
âWhat?â he asks, and immediately he is no longer groggy but desperately concerned. Your parents are away on a month-long tour of Australia and often incommunicado. By the time they received news of Ariâs death and called Mount Sinai in hysterics to speak with you, you had told them not to rush home. You were about to be released, and they would not make it in time for the funeral regardless. Aemond insisted on a swift, private ceremony, a detour on the drive back to Asteria, like it was something he couldnât wait to put in his rearview mirror. âWhat are you talking about, sweetheart?â
âAemond, heâŠâ Heâs not the man I thought he was. I donât know him, I donât trust him. âHeâs not acting right, heâs notâŠhe didnâtâŠDaddy, itâs like he doesnât care. And I donât want to be here anymore. Can I fly down to Tarpon Springs when you and Mama get back? Can I stay with you for a while? And thenâŠand thenâŠâ You donât even know what words youâre looking for. They donât exist in your universe.
 âListen, honey,â your father says with great tenderness. âAre you listening?â
âYeah.â Youâre trying to stifle your sobs so no one downstairs hears you.
âYouâve just been through something terrible. So terrible I canât even imagine it. And of course youâre feeling out of sorts. But Aemond is your husband, heâs your protector and your ally, your best friend, your partner in life. Heâs not the one responsible for what happened. You canât misdirect your heartache at him.â
âBut heâsâŠDaddy, thereâsâŠthereâs something wrong with him.â
âOftentimes, itâs easier for women to talk about their emotions, both good and bad. But for menâespecially men like Aemond who are so self-disciplined by natureâit can be like pulling teeth to express themselves. They donât like to be vulnerable. They actually think theyâre failing in their commitments to their wife if they let her see how much theyâre struggling. Aemond is hurting just like you are. He might not show it in the way you expect, but that doesnât mean he doesnât care. Of course he cares.â
How do you know, Daddy? Have you cut him open and studied his brain, his ropy nerves, the dark chambers of his heart? âI thought he saw me like you see Mama, I thought he included me in everything because he loved and respected me, but thatâs not it. He just needs someone to help him get elected, thatâs all Ari and I were to him, and I canâtâŠI just canâtâŠthe thought of him touching me nowâŠâ
âSweetheart, Aemond is a good man,â your father says. âHe does love you. He does respect you. And heâs doing such incredible things for this country. I have friends in Florida whoâve been voting Republican since Hoover, but theyâre crossing over for Aemond. They think heâs the one to clean up this mess. Vietnam, poverty, civil rights, the riots, the shootings, the hippies, the drugs, the Russians, the Chinese, someone has to pick up the pieces and create something that makes sense. Do you think Nixon or Humphrey would end the war by this time next year? Do you think either of them would compel the South to enforce voting rights or desegregation?â
âNo,â you say, closing your eyes. But that doesnât mean I can forget what Iâve learned about Aemond.
âHere, your mom wants to say something.â Your father vanishes; your motherâs voice comes piping across the copper submarine cables that span the length of the Pacific Ocean. You wonderârandomly, distractedlyâif any of the wires connecting you to Sydney run through Arizona, the place Aegon told you he didnât want to leave.
âHello? Are you there?â
âIâm here, Mama.â
âOh, honey,â she sighs, distraught, hearing the exhaustion and misery in your voice. âYouâve got the baby blues, and no baby to hold good and close to help them run their course. Iâm so sorry. Itâs just awful, so awful.â
You speak before you know what youâre going to say. âI donât want to be married to Aemond anymore.â
âYouâre confused, sweetheart. Your hormones are all over the place, youâre in pain, youâve just had major surgery, and after this year with all the stress from the campaign and that horrific shooting in Palm Beachââ
âHeâs not like Daddy.â Tears are flooding down your cheeks; your voice is hoarse. âI thought he was, but heâs not.â
âYou cannot make a mistake like this,â your mother says, and sheâs turned from silk to steel. âIf you do something drastic now, youâll wake up in a month or six months or a year and realize youâve ruined not just your life, but the chance this country had at a better future. Donât you realize whatâs at stake here? Every marriage goes through tough times. Every husband needs to learn how to care for his wife, and every wife how to best support her husband. Thatâs natural, and youâve only been married two years. Of course you and Aemond are still learning how to navigate life together. It only seems so much worse because of whatâs happened to the baby.â
Is she right? Am I wrong? âI donât know,â you say weakly.
âIf you leave now, what happens?â your mother demands. âYou abandon the campaign and Aemondâs support plummets. You are a divorcee, a sinner, a failure. You donât get your son back. But you do lose everything youâve helped build. Marriage isnât an experiment, âoh letâs give it a try and if we hit any bumps weâll call the whole thing off.â No. Itâs a covenant. Marriage is for life.â
Yes it is, in just about every faith, and certainly for the Greek Orthodox Church. You are suddenly consumed by mistrust for your own body, this flesh that failed your son and now is deceiving you with doubt so heavyâlike cold iron or lead or platinumâit masquerades as truth. How could you imagine a life after Aemond? What waits for you in Tarpon Springs besides the promise of an eventual remarriage that is banal, powerless, bleak, exactly what youâve always plotted so willfully to avoid?
âDo you understand me, honey?â your mother asks, and sheâs soft and kind again. âI donât mean to be strict with you. My heart breaks for you, and I love you. Iâm not trying to upset you. Iâm trying to protect you from yourself.â
âYes.â There are people getting massacred in Vietnam right now; there are people who canât afford roofs over their heads. Who am I to complain? Your tears have stopped; your breathing is now slow and measured. âYes, Mama. I understand.â
After youâve hung up, you stay where you are for a long time, your hands folded limply in your lap and gazing at the paintings hung on the pale blue walls: small replicas of The Birth of Venus, Romulus and Remus, Prometheus Bound, Perseus Rescuing Andromeda, Echo and Narcissus, Jupiter and Io. Then you get up to sift through the greeting cards youâve piled on the bed, not really seeing them. Only one captures your attention. Only one jolts you out of the fog like a flash of lightning through dark churning clouds.
You take the card Aegon gave you back when you were still a mother and set it upright on your nightstand, consider it for a while, wander into the bathroom to scrub the despair from your skin and change into something less somber for dinner.
~~~~~~~~~~
Youâre playing Battleship with Cosmo by the edge of the swimming pool while all the other children splash around, howling with laughter and diving for toys they throw to the bottom and then fetch with their teeth like golden retrievers, G.I. Joes and Barbies and Trolls and even a waterlogged Mr. Potato Head. The nannies are observing intently, poised to leap in if anyone should appear to be at risk of drowning. If Ari had lived, I wouldnât have wanted nannies to raise him, you think. I would have wanted him to have a normal childhood. I would have wanted to know him.
âYour turn,â Cosmo says with a grin. Heâs the one who looks the most like Aegon, or how you imagine Aegon must have looked before the pills and the booze and the long caged decades. His hair is so light a blonde itâs nearly white, his eyes huge and glimmering and mischievous. Battleship is a bit advanced for a five-year-old. Cosmo keeps guessing the same coordinates over and over, so you periodically lie and tell him heâs sunk one of your ships. When you launch a successful attack against his, he seems to think itâs fair game to relocate the vessel to a more advantageous location.
âD7.â
He picks up his aircraft carrier and repositions it. From the record player drifts California Dreaminâ. âNope! Nothing sank!â
âWow. Iâm so bad at this.â
Cosmo is snickering. âYeah, you are. Really bad.â
âIf I got drafted, the Army would be better off leaving me at home. Iâd just be a nuisance.â
âWhatâs drafted?â
âNever mind. Your turn to guess.â
âJ12!â
The grid only goes up to 10. Nonetheless, you slap your own forehead dramatically. âOh no, not again! You sunk my battleship!â
âYay!â Cosmo cheers, then turns to the Jacuzzi. Itâs brand new, just installed last month. âMom, did you see? Iâm winning!â
You glance over at Mimi. She has passed out, her latest Gimlet drained and her head resting atop her crossed arms, propped on the rim of the Jacuzzi. âUh, Cosmo, run inside and ask Doxie to make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, okay?â
âOkay.â He scampers off, toddling on reckless little legs.
With no shortage of difficulty, you manage to stand. Each day your abdominal muscles feel less like theyâve been shredded and then mended with threads of fire, but the pain is still bad, very bad, and there are spots of skin on your belly that are numb when you skim your fingertips across them. You will have a long vertical scar like Aemondâs, an irreparable reminder of the blood youâve paid to the cause. And for all your anguish, this particular fact doesnât torment you. It is proof that Ari existed, however briefly, however futilely.
You amble over to the Jacuzzi, your roomy lavender dress flowing in the wind, and shove one of Mimiâs shoulders. âMimi, wake up. Get out of the water.â
She mumbles incoherently in response. You reach for her before remembering you canât lift anything. You look around. Alicent and Helaena are on lounge chairs at the other end of the pool; Alicent is trying very hard to look interested while Helaena shows her about 100 different butterfly species pictured in a kaleidoscopically colorful book. Criston is off giving Ludwika a tour of the property, flanked by a flock of Alopekis hoping for treats. Ludwika is Ottoâs wife of six months but only newly arrived, 30 years old, perpetually unimpressed, modelesque, golden blonde, if Barbie was from Poland. Aemond, Otto, and Viserysâhis sparse threads of silver hair hanging like cobwebs around his gaunt face, grimacing and clutching the armrests of his wheelchairâare conspiring on the lawn between the main house and the pool. They havenât noticed your predicament. Fosco is sauntering by wearing some of the tiniest swim shorts youâve ever seen. He is the son of an Italian count, gangly and chatty and from what youâve seen almost certainly addicted to gambling.
âWill you help me move Mimi, please?â you ask him. âIâm afraid sheâs going to drown.â
âOf course, of course, no problem. Let me handle it. Do not hurt yourself.â He has her half-dragged out of the Jacuzzi before Mimi startles awake.
âWhatâs going on?â she slurs. âPut me down, I can walk.â
âI doubt it,â you say.
âYou are alright?â Fosco asks Mimi as he steadies her on the cement, wet with pool water. She clutches at his forearms helplessly.
âIâm fine. Absolutely fine.â
âMimi, go inside,â you say. âEat a sandwich. Tell Cosmo youâre proud of him for winning Battleship.â
âBattleship? Well, thatâs just ridiculous. Heâs five. Five-year-olds canât play Battleship.â
âAnd yet you will congratulate him regardless.â
She can feel your impatience, your judgement, sharp like wasp stings. Mimi retreats like a kicked dog to the main house, somehow summoning the will to remain mostly upright.
You look to Fosco. âDo you know where Aegon is?â You want to see him, but you also donât; each time youâre in the same room now is a disorienting storm of familiarity, curiosity, painful reminders, annoyance, awkwardness, longingness to again feel as close to himâto anyoneâas you did during those fleeting moments at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan.
Fosco chuckles. âWhere is he ever? Napping, sailing, drinking, on the phone with one of his lady friends. I could not say. I have not seen him recently.â
âOkay. Thanks anyway.â The music stopsâthe record needs to be flipped overâand now you can just barely hear what Aemond, Otto, and Viserys are discussing.
âAnd you criticized me for going too young,â Aemond says to Otto. âWhatâs your age difference with Ludwika? 40 years?â
âSheâs good publicity. She defected from the Eastern Bloc in search of the American Dream.â
âBeing married to you?â Aemond quips. âI think she found the American Nightmare.â
âSpeaking of wives,â Otto continues. âI assume since yours had one surgery, thatâs how all the future children will need to be born, is that right?â
Aemond nods, frowning. âYeah. And the doctors said she shouldnât have more than three. It weakens the uterus, I guess, all that slicing and suturing. Do it too many times and ruptures get more likely, and those can be fatal.â
âVery unfortunate,â Viserys rasps. âChildren are our greatest legacy. I wanted at least ten, but your motherâŠwellâŠafter Daeron, it just never happened again.â And you know that this is just one of the ways in which Aemond had planned to win his fatherâs admiration: by contributing more new Targaryens to the dynasty than anyone else. Now thatâs impossible.
Otto sighs wistfully. âTo have a brand new baby to parade around in the fallâŠthat would have been wonderful.â For the first time in two years, you can sense that you have disappointed him. Fosco is watching you, uneasy, ashamed, sorry without knowing what to do about it.
âAbsolutely,â Aemond says, as if this is not the first time the thought has crossed his mind. âBut itâs done now. Thereâs no sense in dwelling on what might have been. We must look forward. Itâs feasible thatâŠwellâŠif we try again and get good news by October, we can announce in time for Election DayâŠâ
You canât listen anymore. Your belly aching, your bare feet hurrying through warm emerald grass, you traverse the lawn and disappear into Helaenaâs garden, painstakingly tended and continuously expanded since she was a little girl. There are marigolds and daffodils, tulips and roses, azaleas, asters, butterfly bushes, chrysanthemums, lilies and lupines, sunflowers, violets, life blooming in a hundred different shades. There are tiny statues too, tucked away in random places, stone angels and untamed creatures, alligators and turtles and rabbits and cats, the only sort the Alopekis will tolerate. At the very center of the garden is a tall circle of hedges with only one opening, an arched doorway cut into the thick lush green. Youâve been here before, though only with Aemond. On a property shared with so many family membersâand the occasional intrusive journalistâitâs a good place to escape prying eyes. You pass through the threshold with a hand resting absentmindedly on your belly, as if youâre still pregnant. You keep doing this. Each time you remember youâre at the end of something rather than the beginning, it carves you open all over again.
Around the inside perimeter of the circle are twelve sculptures positioned like numbers on a clock: eleven Olympians and Hades, confined to the Underworld. In the middle of the clearing is the largest stature of all, a wrathful Zeus hurling lightning bolts and surrounded by a gurgling fountain of glass-clear water. Under the shadow of Zeus, Aegon is sprawled on the ground and smoking a joint. âSo youâre hiding from them too, huh?â He gives you a sly, welcome-to-the-club smirk, then offers you his joint. âWant a hit?â
You shake your head, not taking another step towards him. âI shouldnât have done that.â
He is confused. âDone what?â
âAny of it.â I told him about my life before. I made the mistake of thinking I could go back.
Aegon still doesnât seem to understand. âYouâre scared Iâm gonna snitch?â
You shrug, evasive. Itâs not just the fact that he knows. Itâs the sensation that youâve unlatched somethingâan attic room, a jewelry box, a birdcageâand now you canât get it locked again, and the door rattles with every footstep and storm wind, and you are no longer Aphrodite or Io but Pandora, a hunger growing in your stitched womb like a child.
âWhat? Whatâs wrong with you?â And thatâs always how he says it, not whatâs the matter or are you alright or what did I do or how can I fix it?
âIâm kind ofâŠembarrassed, I guess.â
âEmbarrassed,â Aegon echoes. âBecause of me?â
âI feel like I said and did a lot of things that were out of character because I was emotionally compromised.â
âThey were out of character for who youâve been trying to convince everyone you are since you married Aemond, sure. But they werenât out of character for you.â
Heâs treading too close now, arrows piercing their mark, a tremor near the epicenter. âYou donât know what youâre talking about.â
âAu contraire, I have acquired many interesting revelations recently.â
âWhereâd you learn French? From Mimi?â
His smile dies. âBoarding school.â
You donât know how to reply. You donât know how to be around Aegon without either hating him or letting him see parts of yourself that youâre trying to drown like Icarus in the waves. You glance yearningly towards the doorway cut into the hedges.
All at once, Aegon is furious. âYou donât want to talk to me? You want to go back to how it was before, you want to pretend Mount Sinai never happened? Fine. You got it. Wish fucking granted. Whatever you have to do.â
He turns away from you. You flee from him. But that night when Asteria is hushed and stillâAemond, Criston, and Otto are attending a fundraising dinner in Philadelphia, and you are temporarily excused from accompanying them as you recoverâyou creep down into the basement of the main house to apologize. Mimi sleeps in a bedroom on the second floor, but here Aegon can keep odd hours and drink and smoke to his heartâs content, and even entertain clandestine guests, girls who are beautiful and giggling and never invited twice.
Aegon isnât here. He might be passed out somewhere, or at a party, or maybe even upstairs with Mimi, and something about this idea twists through your mending guts like a blade. In his absence, you take a quick look around his room, something youâve never done before. You hadnât had any interest; it wouldnât even have occurred to you. Thereâs a large green futon, a matching shag carpet, a television, a bookshelf full of notebooks and paperbacksâKurt Vonnegut, Harper Lee, Sylvia Plath, Truman Capote, Ken Keseyâand vinyl albums, a record player, and his two acoustic guitars. The first is unpainted maple wood covered with stickers. Iâd rather be nowhere reads one; Burn pot not people proclaims another. The second guitar is the souvenir he bought in Manhattan, an aquamarine blue six-string.
There's something strange on his end table. Along with a dozen empty cups is a full ashtray, and thereâs a folded piece of paper tucked underneath. You slide the paper out and open it. Itâs the receipt you used to solve the long division problem in your hospital room.
Why would he keep this? you think, mystified. There are footsteps above your head, and you quickly return the receipt to where you found it and leave before your trespass can be discovered.
When you emerge from the basement, Fosco is waiting in the hallway and carrying a Tupperware container filled with something that resembles kourabiethes, Greek shortbread cookies. âI thought I saw you sneak down there. What were you looking for?â
You scramble for an explanation. âOne of the dogs is missing. Alicent wanted me to check the basement.â
âAh, yes, I see.â He passes you the Tupperware container. âThese are for you. I hope they are not too bad. I baked them myself.â
âAre theyâŠâ You shake it. âBiscotti?â
âThey are ossi dei morti,â Fosco says. âBones of the dead. We make them to remember loved ones we have lost. They are hard, so you should dip them in coffee or tea before you try to eat them.â
You open the lid. Inside are long thin cookies coated with powdered sugar. You inhale almond flour, cloves, cinnamon. And you are so touched you cannot find your words.
âYou know, there still places in Italy where mothers wear black for years to mourn their children.â This is not trivia; it is an acknowledgement. Your son is gone. There is no shame in the grief that is left behind. In another house, it would be expected, it would be required.
âThank you, Fosco.â
He smiles warmly. âWe are in this together, no? We are pieces of the same machine.â
Then he plods off towards the living room, sliding a rolled-up horse racing program out of the back pocket of his tight plaid pants.
~~~~~~~~~~
Youâre in Louisville, Kentucky, where thunder quakes the eaves. An hour ago, Aegon was popping Valium and leisurely plucking at his pool water blue Gibson guitar, slumped against the wall, nipping at a flask filled with straight Bacardi. But heâs not anymore. Now heâs gathered around the small color television with you, Criston, Otto, Fosco, Helaena, and Ludwika. The news is just breaking. There was a civil rights protest at the University of Kentucky in Lexington one hour to the east. Someone threw a rock, or someone claims someone threw a rock, or someone threw something that was mistaken for a rock, and in any event the situation escalated from there and local police who were monitoring the demonstration opened fire on a crowd, killing five students and injuring another dozen.
Outside, word is spreading through the crowd of over 2,000 people that have gathered for Aemondâs planned speech at the historic Iroquois Amphitheater, a New Deal project finished in 1938. Rain is pouring, and the venue has no roof. Aemond is already 20 minutes late. The voices are becoming louder, more demanding, more wrathful. Theyâre shouting that Aemond is too afraid to face them now, that heâs trying to figure out what his statement will be, that heâs cowardly and calculating; and if President Lyndon Baines Johnson was here tonight instead of cursing his bad stars up in Washington D.C., he would certainly have something to say about the capriciousness of voters who love you, hate you, carry you higher, drag you down, all without ever knowing you.
In truth, Aemond is not stalling on purpose. Heâs in the bathroom trying to get his prosthetic eye in. Itâs been giving him hell all afternoon. He wears his eyepatch at home, but heâs never made a public appearance without his glass eye clean and perfect in his voided socket.
âHeâs going to have to say something about it,â you tell the others as you watch the news coverage.
âSay what?â Otto snaps. âIf he doesnât treat those dead kids like martyrs heâs going to get booed off the stage. If he condemns the police heâs going to lose the suburbs. Theyâll run to Humphrey now and Nixon in November.â
The weather report called for stormsâwhich is why Alicent, Mimi, and the children are already back at the Seelbach Hotel for the night after a long day of shaking hands and smiling gamelyâbut no one expected it to get this bad. The room youâre huddled in is just off-stage, so you can see it all: the wind ripping signs and flags from peopleâs hands, drenched clothes, sopping hair, snarling faces, rain turning puddles to rivers. The stomping of boots is now as loud as the thunder. Rocks and bottles are being pitched at the stage.
âIs America always like this?â Ludwika asks, scandalized.
âNo, not at all,â Otto says. âGoddamn animalsâŠâ
Aegon replies, not taking his eyes from the television: âYouâd be mad too if cops were shooting your friends and the only graduation present you had to look forward to was getting disemboweled by guerillas in Vietnam.â
âIâve had it with you and your Marxist bullshit! You want to liberate the dispossessed masses? Why donât you start by donating your monthly drugs and rum budget to theââ
âWe should cancel,â Fosco says. âJust call the whole thing off. Tell them Aemond is sick or something.â
âThatâs the headline you want? âSenator Targaryen hides from grieving supporters who braved a thunderstorm to see himâ?! Just give the White House to Nixon now!â
âI donât think we can cancel,â Criston says softly. âI think if we tried to leave, theyâd swarm the car.â
âItâs a riot,â Otto moans, rubbing his face with his hands. âThis is what happens when you court voters like this, college kids and hippies, professional malcontentsâŠâ
âArenât there police outside?â Ludwika says anxiously.
âYeah, a handful,â Criston tells her. âAnd if they try to do anything this will erupt and we can add to the body count in LexingtonâŠâ
You leave them and follow a hallway to the menâs bathroom; on the periphery of your vision, you can tell that Aegon is watching you go. You push the door open and find a row of stalls and three sinks, one of which Aemond is standing in front of as he stares into his reflection and attempts to shove the prosthetic eye into his empty, gore-red left socket. His suit is navy blue, his hair neatly slicked back, his shoes so polished theyâre reflective like a mirror.
âFuck,â he hisses, flinching. His right cheek is wet with tears of frustration and agony. Itâs July 26th, and tomorrow are the final three state conventions in the Democratic primary. Humphrey is almost certain to take Utah; Virginia will go to Governor Mills Godwin, who is only running in his home state to control the delegates and will hand them over to whoever he feels is most worthy in August. But Aemond is the favorite to win here in Kentucky. Or at least, he was an hour ago.
âWhat can I do? What do you need?â
âYou canât do anything. ItâsâŠitâs this goddamn nerve pain, it feels like Iâm being fucking stabbed, I canât get the muscles to relax enoughâŠâ
Like an apology, you say: âAemond, the crowd is getting out of control.â
âSo you came in here to rush me?â
âNo, Iâm here to help.â
âYouâre not helping. Youâre doing the exact opposite.â
âI think you should give this speech with your eyepatch on. It looks good, and youâll be as comfortable as possible, and the crowd wonât have to wait any longer than they have already.â
âNo.â
âAemond, pleaseââ
âNo! FDR didnât make speeches in his wheelchair and Iâm not making mine without my eye in.â
âDo you want me to get you Aegonâs pills? Rum, weed?â
âYou donât think Iâve already taken something?â He tries to force his eye in again and strikes his fist against the sink when he canât.
Then you ask gingerly: âDo you know what youâre going to say about the shooting?â
âGet out!â Aemond shouts. âYouâre making it worse, just get the fuck out! Go!â
You bolt from the bathroom, hands trembling, throat burning. You donât want to return to the television where the others are standing; youâre worried theyâll be able to tell how upset you are. You go to the edge of the stage, arms crossed protectively over your chest, and peek out into the crowd. Above their chants and jeers and howled threats, lightning splits the sky.
I donâ t think weâre going to be able to find our way out of this one. I think this is the end of the road.
âHey,â Aegon says, tapping your shoulder. âBack up.â
âIâm fine here.â
âNo youâre not.â He grabs your arm and tugs you farther backstage. Seconds later, an Absolut Vodka bottle explodes into crystalline shrapnel where you were standing. You yelp and Aegon gives you a little eyebrow raise. I told you, he means.
âSomeone has to go out there,â Otto says, still lurking by the television. Fosco is comforting Helaena, who is quietly weeping; Ludwika is watching the news coverage in horror, surely reconsidering all her life choices. A sixth University of Kentucky student has been declared dead. âWe canât wait.â
âNo we canât,â Criston agrees. Then they both turn to you expectantly.
Your blood goes icy. Tonight was meant to be your first official appearance since the baby. Your hair is up, your dress a navy blue to match Aemondâs suit, gold chains around your wrist and throat, a gold chain of a belt. You thought you were ready. But it wasnât supposed to be like this.
âDonât you look at her,â Aegon says, sharp like a scalpel, like a bullet, like something that punctures arteries and lungs. âTheyâre throwing glass. You figure something else out, donât even look at her.â
Otto relents, perhaps halfheartedly. âNo, youâre right. I donât know what I was thinking.â
Criston starts heading for the bathroom to get Aemond. Otto is watching the television again, his face vacuous as his ambitions are carried away by a flood of rain, wind, rage, blood. Aegon snatches his guitar from where he left it by the wall. He tosses the strap over his head, gives the strings a few experimental strums and retunes them, starts walking towards the stage.
âAegon, what are you doing?â you ask, panicked.
âSomeone has to distract the crowd.â
âNo, stop, you canâtââ
âHey,â Aegon says. And when you glance past him at the uproarious, storm-drenched frenzy, he turns your face back to his to make sure youâre listening. His hand is insistent but gentle, his voice steady. âDonât go out there. Okay?â
âOkay,â you agree, startled.
He gives you one last small, parting smile, a flash of his teeth, a daring glint in his murky blue eyes. Then heâs out in the torrential rain, soaked to the skin in seconds. His frayed green Army jacket clings to him; his hair is ravaged by the wind. As he takes his place behind the microphone, a stone that someone has hurled skates by him and nicks the apple of his left cheek. You can see a trickle of blood snaking down his sunburned skin before the rain washes it away; you feel a desperate gnawing dread that someone will hurt him, not just here but anywhere, not just now but ever. The crowd is still seething, shouting, stomping their feet to join the inescapable growl of the thunder. Aegonâs pick flies over the guitar strings as he begins playing, raindrops cast from his fingers like spells. At first, you can barely hear him.
âCome gather âround, people, wherever you roam
And admit that the waters around you have grown
And accept it that soon youâll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth saving
And you better start swimminâ or youâll sink like a stone
For the times, they are a-changinââ
The audience is settling down now. Some of them are singing along. You can feel that Otto, Ludwika, Fosco, and Helaena are gathering around you, but you donât grasp anything theyâre saying. You canât tear your eyes from Aegon. Itâs like youâre seeing him for the first time, this radiant sunbeam of a man, a light in dark places, a constellation that whispers myths through the ink-spill indigo of the night sky. How could you ever have hated him? How could you ever have thought he was worthless?
âCome writers and critics who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide, the chance wonât come again
And donât speak too soon, for the wheelâs still in spin
And thereâs no tellinâ who that itâs naming
For the loser now will be later to win
For the times, they are a-changinââ
Aemond and Criston appear beside you at the edge of the stage; Aemondâs prosthetic eye has at last been successfully placed with no lingering evidence of a struggle. You expect him to apologize for what he said in the bathroom, but he doesnât. Instead he says when he sees Aegon: âWhat the hell is he doing?â
âSaving your career,â you reply simply.
âCome senators, congressmen, please heed the call
Donât stand in the doorway, donât block up the hall
For he that gets hurt will be he who has stalled
The battle outside raging
Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
For the times, they are a-changinââ
Now Aegon peers pointedly off-stage to where Otto Hightower is gawking. Aegon beams, throws his head back to get his dripping hair out of his eyes, comes back to the mic.
âCome mothers and fathers throughout the land
And donât criticize what you canât understand
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly aging
Please get out of the new one if you canât lend your hand
For the times, they are a-changinââ
Everyone you can see in the crowd is singing and swaying. Itâs not just a Bob Dylan song from 1964 but an anthem, a prayer, a rallying cry, a dire warning for the powers at be.
âThe line, it is drawn, the curse, it is cast
The slow one now will later be fast
As the present now will later be past
The order is rapidly fading
And the first one now will later be last
For the times, they are a-changinââ
The audience is applauding and whistling. Aegon steals a glimpse of where you are standing backstage, checks that Aemond is still there with you and that heâs ready.
âLadies and gentlemen,â Aegon broadcasts with a wicked grin. âI am now proud to present the next president of the United States of America, Senator Aemond Targaryen!â
And Aemond is crossing the stage, no trace of pain or self-consciousness or prey-animal fear, no mere mortal but someone chosen by the gods, and the rain is slowing to a drizzle, and the clouds are opening to let through rare pinprick aisles of daylight, and the riotous spectators are now his disciples, exorcised of any rage theyâve ever felt for the scarred senator from New Jersey. He and his family are not the enemy; they are the solution. They are revolutionaries who have bled for the cause. They bring with them the change that is required. Aegon steps back and the rest of you join him in a semi-circle like a crescent moon behind Aemond. When you walk out onto the stage, the cheers swell to screams.
Aegon takes off his guitar and then leans into you. âHeâs lucky you arenât 35,â Aegon whispers, soft lips that curl into a smile as they brush your ear. And heâs teasing you but heâs not mocking, heâs not mean. Heâs so close you share the same atmosphere, the same gravity. âMaybe when he finishes up his second term you can start building your resume for your first.â
âI want your endorsement.â
âFrom the disgraced former mayor of Trenton? What an honor. Youâll have to fight for it.â
You ball up a fist and playfully bump your knuckles against his chin. He pretends to bite at you. And you laugh for the first time since a doctor and priest entered your hospital room 13 days ago. Aegon slings an arm around your shoulders, pulls you against him, soaks you in his rain.
âToday in Lexington, we lost six brave and brilliant souls,â Aemond says, his voice booming through the amphitheater. A hush ripples through the crowd as they listen, enraptured. âTheir sacrifice was for the most noble of causes, but they should never have been forced to pay the ultimate price. They deserved long, full lives in a better America than the one we now call home. This tragedy is a symptom of the sickness that has infected this nation, a fatal failure to empathize with our fellow countrymen, a deafness to pleas for justice, a blindness to mercy. But the remedy is within all of us, for it is our own humanity. When we purge the diseases of war, prejudice, and ravenous greed, we will reclaim our best selvesâour true selvesâand our nation will at last be cured.â
The amphitheater is illuminated with not only strobing lightning but the flashbulbs of cameras. The journalists have arrived just in time.
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen ii#aegon ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon x y/n#aegon x you#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii fanfic#aegon ii fic
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Propaganda
Glynis Johns (Mary Poppins, The Court Jester)âLISTEN, I'd let that woman's voice with all its gravely hoarseness (positive) wash over me all goddamn day, but if that's not enough she managed to play the straight woman to Danny Kaye's jester, all with her cleavage so plunging it might as well have been catapulted into the ocean right after Basil Rathbone
Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)âMy friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?
This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Glynis Johns:
She walks the line between sexy and cute. Her best role for me is in "The Court Jester as Maid Jean. She's fantastic as the soft but tough captain of the outlaw band and she looks stunning in every gown she wears throughout the film. And of course we can't forget her iconic turn as the suffragette mother, Mrs. Banks, in Mary Poppins! Also shoutout to her distinctive and beautiful voice, kind of smoky and husky. Extremely hot and set her apart from many of her peers."
"She was amazing in Mary Poppins (the Suffragette song is severely underrated) and apparently she was Welsh? National pride! And she advocated for arts funding in Wales, which is very cool. Also, she died recently (RIP) making her one of the last survivors of the Golden Age of Hollywood, according to Wikipedia. Also also, she just has a cheeky energy I like? And her eyes are beautiful!"
"She had this wonderful wit and charm to her no matter the role and the most distinctive, striking voice!"
"I mean, incredibly beautiful and talented, can do drama can do comedy. And she was a mermaid."
"Like Bette Davis she has eyes to die for. Unlike Bette Davis you felt comforted by them, even when she was batting her eyelashes at you. Would glady go to Downing Street with her and throw things at the Prime minister"
"Listen, listen. I was raised on Mary Poppins and "Votes for women! (step in time)" single-handedly taught me how to be a feminist. Also The Court Jester is one of my favourite movies of all time and she is UNBELIEVABLY gorgeous, charismatic, funny, and clever in it. She knocks several men out. Absolute icon."
"I love Glynis Johns. Most of the reason is The Court Jester where she's a sensible and capable foil to whatever what going on with Danny Kaye at the time. She was also the first star I based an OC on. An OC that I still have to this day! Anyway here have some YouTube links love u bye"
Mermaid clip:
Court Jester (sharing a bed trope):
youtube
Court Jester (seducing the king):
youtube
"VOTES FOR WOMEN! Well, votes for this woman. Please."
youtube
Eartha Kitt:
"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."
"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."
"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! Sheâs an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her âthe most exciting woman in the world.â
"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."
Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist.
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Round 2 - Arthropoda - Pycnogonida
(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)
Pycnogonida is a class containing one order: Pantopoda, which means âall feet.â A fitting name for creatures that seem to be made entirely of legs. Commonly called âSea Spidersâ, they are not spiders, nor are they arachnids, but are actually a sister group to all other living arthropods.
Pycnogonids live in most oceans. Most are tiny, living in relatively shallow water, though some can grow to be quite large in antarctic and deep waters. Some pycnogonids are so small that each of their muscles consists of a single cell. They have a proboscis which they use to suck nutrients from soft bodied invertebrates such as cnidarians, sponges, polychaetes, and bryozoans. They can also insert their proboscis into anemones, though this rarely kills the anemone. The pycnogonid digestive tract extends into their legs. They are segmented, with the first body segment (the cephalon) consisting of the proboscis, the ocular tubercle with up to 4 simple eyes, a pair of chelifores, a pair of palps, a pair of ovigers, and the first pair of walking legs. Ovigers are used for cleaning themselves, courtship, and caring for eggs and young. Nymphonidae is the only family where both the chelifores and palps (sensory organs) remain functional. In others, these limbs are reduced or absent, instead relying on a well-developed and flexible proboscis equipped with sensory bristles. Pycnogonids are usually comprised of eight walking legs, but the family Pycnogonidae includes species with ten, and the families Colossendeidae and Nymphonidae include species with up to twelve legs! While most species have up to 4 eyes, some deep-sea species lack them entirely. Pycnogonids do not have a traditional respiratory system, instead absorbing oxygen through their legs and diffusing it throughout their body via hemolymph. Their small, long, thin hearts beat vigorously at 90 to 180 beats per minute, creating substantial blood pressure. Their nervous system consists of a brain which is connected to two ventral nerve cords, which in turn connect to specific nerves. Like other arthropods, they molt their exoskeleton as they grow.
Pycnogonid reproduction involves external fertilization after a brief courtship involving the male stroking the larger female with his ovigers and receiving the eggs if she is responsive. The couple must adjust their position until the genital pores on their legs are perfectly aligned. Only males will care for eggs and young, and in some species only the males will have ovigers while the females do not, as these limbs are used mainly for carrying and cleaning the eggs. Larvae consist only of a head with chelifores, palps and ovigers. Extra segments and legs emerge as it grows into an adult. There are at least four different types of larvae. The typical protonymphon larva is most common, is free living and gradually turns into an adult. The encysted larva spends its larval days as a parasite, finding a host in a colony of polyps, burrowing into one, turning into a cyst, and not leaving the host until it has become a juvenile. The atypical protonymphon larva lives on or within a temporary host such as a clam or polychaete worm, does not encyst or otherwise harm their host, and leaves them as an adult. Lastly, the attaching larva hatches as an embryo and immediately clings to the legs of its father, only leaving once it has two or three pairs of its own walking legs.
The pycnogonidâs cerebral appendages are unique, not found anywhere else among arthropods, except in fossils like Anomalocaris. This could mean that pycnogonids are the last surviving (highly modified) members of an ancient stem group of arthropods that lived in Cambrian oceans.
Propaganda under the cut:
They are good dads. All of them. Perfect fathers made of legs.
Their leg arrangement allows them to move forward, backward, and sideways without turning their body.
The genus Colossendeis (image 2) includes the largest pycnogonids, which live in the ocean depths. Some of them are even bioluminescent! The largest is Colossendeis colossea which can reach a leg span of 70Â cm (28Â in). However, their body length, including proboscis and abdomen, only reaches 7Â cm (2.8Â in).
About 20% of the known species of pycnogonids live in Antarctica. The cold never bothered them anyway.
One known species, Ascorhynchus corderoi, is hermaphroditic, having both ovaries and testes.
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Necron characters rated on how likely they would be to fall into an MLM/Pyramid Scheme
Szarekh- 9/10 Dude gets desperate whenever he has a strong enough goal. Clearly susceptible to persuasion and magical thinking. Not great at thinking through consequences.
Imotekh- 0/10 Immediately does the math and figures out the scam. Creates the 40k FTC to hunt down and destroy all MLMs out of pure spite
Trazyn- 7/10 but he inexplicably does incredibly well at it. Top seller. Gets his pink Cadillac within a week
Orikan- thinks he's immune which is why he's a 10/10 Will ride this sinking ship to the bottom of the ocean. His sanctum is soon filled with essential oils and leggings
Zahndrekh- 3/10 Seems like an easy mark so people try to recruit him constantly. He acts interested and he's so charming it takes ages after they leave for the MLMer to realize they've sold him nothing and at some point he registered them to vote?
Obyron- steely glare/10 He holds the voter registration forms
Anrakyr- 4/10 but if he does fall for one he will actually go on the record and agree to be interviewed for the take-down documentary
Phillias- undercover FTC agent/10
Szeras- 9/10 because he'll sell out and agree to become an "expert consultant" or whatever and say the shady health oils actually work
Oltyx- 2/10 Refuses to start at the bottom of any pyramid, he knows he was born to be at the top
Yenekh- 8/10 But he's just in it for the product discounts.
Zultanekh- 1/10 but pray to whatever God will listen that he never becomes a part of one because he will use his boisterous yet sensitive personality to drag the whole empire into the pyramid
Lysikor- Founded the MLM
#necrons#shitposts#been listening to The Dream podcast#got mlms on the brain#Imotekh's FTC has actual teeth they will fuck u up#unlike the actual one we have in the US#not their fault special interests are a bitch#imotekh however deals with that kinda shit very efficiently#usually via murder#at least Trazyn got his Cadillac
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who will sings "I wanna be yours"?
(1). "I wanna be your vacuum cleaner Breathing in your dust"
(2). "I wanna be your Ford Cortina I will never rust"
(3). "If you like your coffee hot Let me be your coffee pot"
(4). "You call the shots, babe I just wanna be yours"
(5). "Secrets I have held in my heart Are harder to hide than I thought Maybe I just wanna be yours"
(6). "Let me be your leccy meter And I'll never run out"
(7). "Let me be the portable heater That you'll get cold without"
(8). "I wanna be your setting lotion Hold your hair in deep devotion At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean Now I wanna be yours"
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just say their name and number pretty simple
with the most votes wins and i make fanarts of them
if we had enough votes and numbers needed to be filled (still continue btw)
(edit: i change a bit hope im not confusing you guys)
#cater diamond x reader#ace trapolla x reader#deuce spade x reader#trey clover x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#jack howl x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#leona kingsholar x reader#floyd leech x reader#jade leech x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jamil viper x reader#kalim al asim x reader#epel felmier x reader#rook hunt x reader#vil schoenheitx x reader#idia shroud x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#twst silver x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#malleus draconia x reader#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twisted wonderland#I WANNA BE YOOOUUUUUUUURS!!!!!!!#chenya x reader#neige leblanche x reader#rollo flamme x reader#skully j graves x reader
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mutual 1: sorry the update for my webcomic this week is a bit late! i really had to rush it so it prolly looks really sloppy lol [some of the most sophisticated comic art ive ever seen]
mutual 2: call me uterine lining the way astarions cervix got me bleeding profusely
mutual 3: do you think nanowrimo will give me a posthumous pity publishing deal if i mention it in my suicide note
mutual 4: okay fine i finally started revolutionary girl utena
mutual 5: does columbo know the service he did for butch lesbians. for all of us
mutual 6: wish you were here [blurry picture set of conifer woods in early autumn evening, taken as if frantically running down a winding trail]
mutual 4: im pretty hardy i dont need the trigger list but thanks for looking out for me guys
mutual 7: good morning lovelies another day the wizard tried to best me and another day i successfully locked him in the spare bathroom lol hope u like drinking shampoo fucker
mutual 8: here is a zip of every yuri manga scan i have and here is a backup in case i get dcma'd. the himejoshi lifestyle will never die
mutual 9: i wish i could go back in time to the shinzo abe assassination and ask to hold the doohickey
mutual 10: here's my essay on how wanting to be loved is the same as wanting to be eaten. three paragraphs in you'll find out that this is 100% tied to an obscure beauty and the beast manga i've been reading lately and how much i want to fuck the beast
mutual 4: oh thats why there was the trigger list.
mutual 11: YOU CAN'T LOCK ME IN THIS BATHROOM FOREVER
mutual 12: why do i have to defend my thesis to people i dont even respect. im not dickriding you just give me the degree
mutual 13: its just me and this scab ive picked into my scalp against the world
mutual 14: my little dragon got glazed and is ready to go into the kiln! everyone wish him good luck!
mutual 3: nvm i am a beautiful genius. perhaps the most beautiful genius of all
mutual 15: i think we should give david lynch rpgmaker and whatever happens happens
mutual 16: kpeyboaatrds brpokem gpuys
mutual 17: also heres my work in progress glossary of mixtec words! i still have a long way to go but i love being able to preserve my roots even in this small way
mutual 4: i just finished the black rose arc. question: what
mutual 18: i need emet-selch to be my wife
mutual 19: i need glados to be my husband
mutual 20: visited the ocean today!!! <3 beach pics!!! there is a darkness growing within me
mutual 21: the forms for my legal name change came in. pls vote in this poll of what my middle name should be: Dill Pickle (Dickle for short), Optimus Prime, Tumblr User Gorgonicteratologist, Smeve
mutual 22: just finished my 100th book of the year! this weeks read was the uses of enchantment by the psychologist bruno bettelheim,
mutual 23: reeses penis butter cups lol
mutual 4: i need to hunt akio for sport
mutual 24: oouugghhrgh. hot. dog.
mutual 25: your favorite character or fictional other would want you to brush your teeth and wash your face so you're well rested and wake up feeling refreshed! make them proud!
mutual 26: being a delivery driver isnt the worst job ive ever had but i do keep wondering what itd be like to drive off into the wild blue yonder one day and not come back
mutual 27: weird dog? [phone picture of critically endangered stork]
mutual 28: i think the two phone line polls in front of my house are having a lovers tryst. no way to prove it tho
mutual 4: WHAT
mutual 29: while you bitches are balduring your gates or finalling those fantasies im doing what a REAL gamer does. playing a b tier rpg that came out in 2004 for the 18th time
mutual 30: ^ real. hamtaro ham ham heartbreak is a masterpiece of interactive art. im not even going to call it a video game at this point
mutual 4: THAT'S HOW IT ENDS?! ANTHY?
mutual 31: can you help me pick which drawing looks better: 34% overlay or 36% soft light?
mutual 32: new video essay out. its called disability in video game narratives: final fantasy 14's most reliable fault. i churned the script out over an all-nighter and my mic crapped out halfway through but by god i did it
mutual 33: my new zine bundle is out! if you buy it you also get a discount on all my game jam games! i really cant wait for you to play them!
mutual 4: yall should watch revolutionary girl utena
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The Results are In: The Top 10 Hottest JoJo Characters
As chosen by you! (characters in places 5-10 ordered by the amount of votes they got in their last rounds)
Number 10: Hot Pants (Steel Ball Run)
Number 9: Caesar Zeppeli (Battle Tendency)
Number 8: Leone Abbacchio (Vento Aureo)
Number 7: Dio Brando (Phantom Blood, Stardust Crusaders, Stone Ocean)
Number 6: Ermes Costello (Stone Ocean)
Number 5: Joseph Joestar (Battle Tendency, Stardust Crusaders)
Number 4: Bruno Bucciarati (Vento Aureo)
Number 3: Kars (Battle Tendency)
Number 2: Gyro Zeppeli (Steel Ball Run)
And officially the Hottest JoJo Character:
Jolyne Cujoh (Stone Ocean)!
Congratulations to all the characters, and thank you for voting, everyone!! Hope you enjoyed this bracket as much as I did <3
#i tried to choose only official art but if any of these pics are fanart please let me know!!#you can tell my taste in people because every time i could i got pictures of the characters all fucked up sad and bloody#and god i wish you could see ermes properly in the pic where she's killing the guy who killed her sister she's divine in that scene#also do you know how hard it is to find pics of gyro without johnny or vice versa?? those two are joined at the hip i love them so much#i didn't know jolyne had dark determination but i am HERE for it those eyes????? fuck step on me PLEASE jolyneeeeee#not a poll#hottest jjba character bracket
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Always remember that you have power, even when you think you donât.
I cannot protest the genocides going on right now, not physically at least.
You know what I do instead? I boycott. McDonaldâs, Apple, Starbucks, Disney⊠yeah youâre not seeing a single cent from me for the next 4 decades.
I inform, I share, I post on my instagram stories, I reblog.
I see mutuals of mine begin to repost and talk about Palestine, Congo, I have friends or acquaintances in my dms asking me âhey, what does this mean?â
My best friend was not aware of the happenings in Palestine until I started sharing posts on instagram. Wanna know how he reacted?
âChildren dying? Thatâs fucking horrific!! Whatâs going on?â And I tell him, and he does his research.
Being more able bodied than I am, he goes to protests, he donates what he can, god, I love him.
My aunt used to believe âoh, the state of Israel deserves to exist.â
She didnât know, after enough blown up buildings, after seeing the countless hospitals attacked, she now thinks: âI have a little baby daughter. If I were in Gaza right now, she would be dead.â
She donates and boycotts and shares.
My Grandmother lives with her, my grandmother was starting to lean conservative, because of my aunt relaying information, after hearing her favourite politician say âHamas is committing genocide against Israelâ, she was mortified and has now changed her vote to a representative condemning actual genocide.
Do you see how this spreads? Do you see your power? I may have influenced only 3 or 4 people directly, but a drop in an ocean still causes ripples.
#palestine#gaza#free gaza#if someone tells you that you are powerless#punch them in the fucking face#free Palestine#save rafah#all eyes on rafah#rafah under attack#free congo#congo genocide#free sudan#keep eyes on sudan#sudan genocide#keep eyes on congo
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possibilities for how ed gets his leathers back in the finale:
ed has a whole closet full of identical leather outfits that he sort of forgot about when he was having his symbolic funeral for blackbeard
izzy made a replica leather getup that sometimes he would take to a brothel or something when he was on shore leave and he would pay one of the prostitutes to wear it while they fucked him
actually itâs not out of the realm of possibility that thereâs at least one prostitute in the republic of pirates who found their niche impersonating blackbeard in bed and they have a really authentic blackbeard outfit replica for that purpose
or just. anyone in the republic of pirates might just have blackbeard cosplay for entirely non-sexual reasons, too. thereâs probably a blackbeard fanclub somewhere
one of the republic of pirates gift shops sells blackbeard cosplay and they were having a sale because all the blackbeard merch hasnât been selling as well ever since the gentleman pirate became the new celebrity in town
black pete is the one with the blackbeard outfit replica. it gets equal use for dorky fanboy cosplay reasons and also for roleplaying blackbeard during sex
ed says something like âoh no i need my leathers but i threw them in the sea!â out loud and buttons just happens to be flying by and he squawks a request to his beloved (seagull subtitles part 2) who rises up like how they animated the ocean in moana and gives ed his leathers back
EDIT: oh my god i forgot ed can fish now
#ofmd#our flag means death#ofmd s2 spoilers#ofmd s2#ofmd season 2#ofmd season 2 spoilers#s2 predictions#edward teach#ed teach#edward teach born on a beach#izzy hands#black pete#txt#j#mine#og#s2e08#poll#ofmd polls#ofmd poll
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Round 5 Voting is Now Open!
You can vote for your favorite seven prompts HERE.
Thank you to everyone who voted in Round 4! Â There are 14 prompts remaining to choose from. Â
Round 5 Voting will close at the end of the day on Monday, May 27th!
Please reblog and spread the word!
- The Mods
The 9 prompts cut after Round 4 are listed below.
Prompts that received 23 or fewer votes were unfortunately cut.
So we had to say goodbye to the following prompts:
Balance/Tui and La
Dance Lessons/Dancing
Diplomacy
Falling Asleep on Appa/Sleepy
Idol AU
Karaoke
Outsider POV
The Sea & The Sky/Moon & Ocean
âWhat Ifâ
And please do not be discouraged if prompts you submitted or voted for get cut - as always, there will be a free/AU/crossover day in addition to the 7 main prompts. This means you can use any of the prompts that were initially listed - or come up with your own ideas!
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Non-Red vs Blue fans guess the fake fact: results!
Find the og post here
Alright time to finally review the results! Correct answer is at the bottom of this post for those not interested in all of the results and explanations!
So the most highly voted option at 23% was Elijah Wood which Iâm sorry to say is incorrect! Elijah Wood was a voice actor in the series. He played the role of Sigma! What this big name actor is doing in a random web series I have no idea but itâs still one of the wildest things to me.
Now the aspirin overdose comes in with 17.3% and got mentioned a lot in the notes and it is also incorrect. However I will admit to some poor wording on my part because it was actually an allergic reaction not an overdose. Thatâs a genuine oopsies on my part đ
Florida sinking into the ocean gets a 10.1% and is also incorrect! The state of Florida does in fact sink into the ocean and itâs implied this was to cover up the disappearance of Agent Florida (who is also the guy who dies from the aspirin)
The gay guy, whoâs name is Donut btw, becoming Jesus comes in with 8.3% and is in fact very real. He even walks on water. It was wild and tbh I barely remember it cause itâs from a season I dislike but it was too wild not to include.
With 7.2% I can say for sure that the giant killer robot is indeed dressed up in cute hats! Specifically a sombrero! Also the robots name is Freckles.
CPR for a bullet wound in the head gets 6.7% and is in fact considered effective medical care. Now I will say this later gets retconned and it turns out the guy didnât actually get shot in the head the bullet just grazed him and his armor locked up making them all think he was dying- hence the choice of word being considered. The characters fully believe it but the CPR did not actually save him cause he wasnât even hurt to begin with.
The crazy love triangle comes in with 4.7% and is also very canon and is exactly as itâs said. Thereâs literally just this insane love triangle for like two seasons- honestly the only love triangle plot I ever enjoyed.
With a solid 4% I can say that there is in fact canon mpreg! Hurray? Idk man this oneâs exactly as it sounds. Dude got knocked up by an alien.
In last place with 2.5% of votes is the main character dying repeatedly. This is also incorrect. First off this guy is named Church which very funny on its own. Secondly itâs actually one of the first running jokes in the series how much this dude dies. Until itâs not a joke đ« also a few people pointed out RvB doesnât have a main character and while I agree I felt it was simpler just to call Church the main character for this poll since itâs designed for people who havenât seen RvB and I would argue that the majority of the narrative centers around Church even when heâs not there.
And now for the correct answer, coming in at third place with 16.1% is Caboose is god!
Now I will fully confess to being sneaky with this one. This is actually a joke made within the series but it is not true at all. Caboose is not actually god and the platypus is just that fucked up. I knew nothing I could come up with would be able to match the absurdity of this series so I decided to twist a few words so that way everything seemed equally fucked up.
And that concludes the poll! I will now leave you off with a few honorable mentions that did not make the Final Cut:
They have a Spanish speaking robot. None of them speak Spanish.
Heâs a ghost but not actually a ghost but actually a highly advanced computer program
Woman has mega beef with an AI copy of her dead mom
The highly advanced computer program canât aim for shit
The first 5 seasons were revealed to actually be a prolonged torture session
Dude chases his dead gf through multiple iteration of the same memory
Woman developed a sibling like bond with an AI copy of her extremely neglectful father
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