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flowerandblood · 7 months

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The dearest embrace (AE)

Alternative Ending of The sofest whisper Oneshot

[ Aemond • Targaryen x servant! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, angst, smut, breeding and breastfeeding kink, miscarriage, murder, violence ]

[ description: Aemond manages to escape the clutches of death and defeats his uncle in a battle in the skies. He hopes to find his servant there when he returns to Harrenhal, but she has, on his advice, fled. Although he tries, he cannot forget the night he spent with her, a night that was to be the last of her life, and he decides that he will not rest until he finds her. Obsessive, possessive, dark Aemond. ]

The first oneshot ends as it does in canon - Aemond's death during the battle with Daemon. However, I thought it would be interesting to present how I would imagine their fate if he managed to survive. If you thought the first ending was perfect and that an additional story would ruin the story for you, just don't read it.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

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He survived.

Although it was he who was to die, Daemon fell into the abyss.

The gods flipped a coin again and this time showed him mercy.

He wasn't sure how he felt when he returned to Harrenhal, when Alys threw herself around his neck with a sob, ready to forgive him for what he had done the night before, ready to accept him deep inside her again, thinking only that he was back.

He, however, instead immediately went to his chamber hoping that he would still find her there, that she had not managed to escape, that she believed he would survive.

That she was waiting for him.

He walked into his chamber and saw emptiness – the only trace of what they had done was a bloody sheet, gone was the bag of coins he had left for her on the table.

She ran away.

Smart girl.

He avoided Alys, saying he needed to rest in solitude and write a letter in peace to his brother-king informing him of his victory.

The truth, however, was that after what he had endured with her that night, after the mesmerising kind of tenderness, intimacy and closeness he had experienced with her convinced he was going to die, his rapprochements with Alys appeared to him as purely animalistic, aggressive, empty.

He spent the next few days thinking about where she might have escaped to as his men searched for her, but to no avail.

He was furious.

He wanted her.

He needed her.

To Alys' despair, he returned to King's Landing unable to endure her constant efforts to gain his attention again, to win his heart back.

It was too late.

It was too late the very moment he saw her in his chamber for the first time.

After convincing him with a few gold coins, one of the innkeepers admitted that he had recently hired a young girl matching his description and that she had rented one of the rooms from him.

His envoy had only managed to find her trail after two months of his constant agony, rage and despair, during which he continually imagined the events of that night.

The way his fingers had driven into her soft flesh, what sweet sounds of pleasure and despair had risen from her throat as thrust after thrust he had taken away her maidenhood.

He set off there immediately on horseback together with some of his guards, without informing either his brother or his mother, disguised in a long grey cloak, a hood over his head so as not to attract anyone's attention with his long white hair.

He stepped into the inn late in the evening, when there were plenty of people there to disappear into the crowd, and felt a painfully strong thump of his heart when he saw her behind the counter – her hair was entwined in a long braid, droplets of sweat from exertion on her face and a calm, warm smile, her slightly rounded abdomen girded with an apron.

She was carrying his child under her heart.

He stared at her from a distance completely frozen, unable to look away, thinking of only one thing.

He walked slowly towards her and she took a step back, terrified, not knowing what to do, how to behave, a man in armour shouted to her impatiently to pour him more beer.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that someone had walked inside and glanced in their direction. He saw her freeze and turn pale, her eyes big, her mouth parted wide in disbelief.

He saw everything in her gaze: fear, joy, disbelief, longing, pain, grief.

"− yes, my Lord −" She mumbled, saying something quickly to the older man who stood beside her. He glanced worriedly in his direction as she spoke to him, then nodded and moved towards the man who was raising his empty tankard into the air.

She walked out to him, wiping her hands on her apron in a nervous gesture, trembling all over, her breathing ragged and uneven, her lips quivering as she spoke to him in a whisper.

"− Your Grace, I −"

"I want to speak with you. Alone."

She nodded, swallowing loudly, and indicated with a hand gesture for him to follow her up the stairs to the inn floor. She pulled a key from the pocket of her bottom gown and slipped it into one of the doors, then opened it.

He walked behind her into a tiny, modest room with one small bed, a table, a chair and a wooden wardrobe. She walked quickly over to the candle and lit it so they wouldn't be standing in complete darkness.

He closed the door behind him and pulled his cloak off his head, never taking his eye off her.

She was exactly as he remembered her.

He could see that her condition was getting worse, the shock beginning to subside with the realisation that he was really standing in front of her, that he had found her.

She moved towards her wardrobe as if she remembered something and from under a pile of blankets pulled out the same bag of coins he had given her. He furrowed his brow as she approached him with it, holding out her hand.

"I spent very little, just on travel, food and rent here the first few nights." She explained in a trembling voice, as soft and warm as he remembered. He pressed his lips together at her words.

"This is your money. It belongs to you." He replied dryly, feeling insulted at the thought that she thought he had gone to so much trouble for a few golden coins.

She swallowed loudly, putting the bag down and looked away, unable to bear his burning gaze.

"Aren't you going to say anything? Aren't you glad I survived?" He asked with a pain and disappointment that surprised him, as if he expected her to throw herself into his arms with tears.

She looked at him with those big, warm eyes of hers, her eyebrows arched in pain, her lips trembled at his words. She pressed her hands against her stomach – for a moment she looked as if she was choking, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks red with emotion.

"What I am feeling now I can only reveal to the gods in my prayers. In the same ones in which I begged them to spare your life." She choked out finally, and he swallowed loudly, feeling a squeeze in his throat and chest, his hands clenched into fists.

"Is that my child?" He asked, a grimace of pain passed across her face – she covered her face with her hand as if she didn't believe this was really happening.

"− please − have mercy −" She mumbled and he approached her with a sudden, aggressive step, towering over her. She drew in the air loudly, looking at him terrified, his hand tightened on her hair not allowing her to turn her face away.

"Don't you feel anything at the sight of me? At the memory of me deep inside you? Hm? It means nothing to you?" He asked coldly, her eyes hot, warm tears running down her cheeks and dripping onto the exposed skin of his wrist, her body twitching in convulsions.

He kissed her, kissed her as if she were a spring of water and he hadn't drunk in months, as if she were a warm bed and he hadn't been able to rest for many nights, as if she were a soothing whisper when all he could hear in his head was a thousand screams.

His tongue slid between her lips in a lingering, deep kiss, her startled, stifled moan caught in her throat, his hand holding her in a steel grip, refusing to let her move away.

He hummed low under his breath, satisfied when he felt her lips part invitingly, brushing his thirsty, longing-filled skin – they embraced at last and pressed against each other like a pair of lovers, her rounded belly pressed against his body.

He took her with gentle, steady, deep thrusts on her bed, lying behind her, panting loudly along with her, the wooden frame creaking each time he stretched her wonderfully tight insides again and again with his painfully hard cock, swollen with yearning.

"− did you long for it? − did you dream of me coming back and doing it to you again? − of my cock deep inside you? −" He gasped out, tightening his hand on her plushy hip.

She mewled softly, her fingers clenched on his arm with which he embraced her waist, his nose pressed against the hollow of her neck, inhaling the scent of her sweat, their bodies, hot and sticky with exertion, slapping against themselves with each of his thrusts.

"− yes − gods, yes −" She mumbled, tears of pain, longing, terror and joy running down her fair, hot, soft cheeks, her thighs spread wide in a gesture of complete submission, allowing him to slam into her as deeply as he wanted.

"− you did so well − already carrying my child − I'm going to put another and another inside you − hm? − my sweet little girl −" He breathed out into her ear and she came hard at his words, moaning and sobbing, her fleshy, hot muscles began to clench on him greedily in pleasure, squeezing his seed out of him. He closed his eyes in pleasure, his naked, sweaty chest pressed against the skin of her back.

"− that's it − don't waste even a drop − yes, just like that −" He murmured in delight, thrusts of his length pushing his spend as deep inside her as possible.

They lay breathing loudly, embracing each other, their bodies entwined together with their hands and legs, his cheek pressed against hers, his soft manhood still deep inside her hot body.

They were one.

"Return with me to the Red Keep." He whispered.

She trembled all over and swallowed loudly, her whole body tensing in terror. He felt it and placed a soft, light kiss on her bare shoulder.

She was a free woman.

He could not take her against her will.

"I will only bring you dishonour and shame." She mumbled through her tears and he chuckled low, stroking the bare skin of her slightly rounded belly with his fingers.

"I am a kinslayer. You are incapable of bringing me greater dishonour than that which I have brought upon myself."

His mother took his decision with fury. What he was doing was against their faith and beliefs, against good customs. She spoke to him about marriage, about the disgrace to his future wife. He laughed at his words.

"What self-respecting lady would marry a kinslayer? I have no desire to push my child inside a woman who feels nothing but disgust for me, mother. I cast Daemon down from the heavens, I won the war for us. This is what I demand in return."

He assigned her a chamber in a seldom-visited part of the keep, hiding her like his secret treasure, watching her abdomen swell from his heritage, from his seed.

He cherished her character, the fact that she understood their situation and that it would never change, that she would never become his wife, that their children would be bastards, that the kingdom would call their relationship sinful and ungodly.

He made sure that the other servants did not get the idea of hurting or poisoning her as a gesture of jealousy or honour, and promised that if anything happened to her, each of them would lose an eye.

They knew he wasn't lying.

Although the news of Alys' pregnancy broke him down at first, he later came to terms with it, however, it was seeing his servant with a stomach swollen from his child that brought him some kind of satisfaction and contentment.

When he visited her he would watch her lying on her bed in her nightgown, sitting in his chair, one of her hands stroking her belly, the other holding the book she was reading to him.

This was their ritual, their time of intellectual intimacy.

He felt some kind of pride hearing how fluently she read, almost no longer making mistakes.

She shuddered suddenly, pausing and looked down at her rounded abdomen with a smile.

"− our child is wriggling − someone here was intrigued by the story −" She said with the warmth, joy and lightness characteristic of her. He hummed under his breath, squinting his eyebrows in satisfaction.

Then he undid the buckles of his black tunic, untied his breeches and lay down behind her, putting his arms around her, her hands immediately on his, a murmur of comfort, contentment and security emanating from her breasts.

He usually took her before she went to sleep, sinking between her thighs with a sigh of delight, wonderfully squeezed on all sides. He forced his way into herwith his always ready, hard erection, which she welcomed inside her with the patience of a saint, moaning sweetly in his arms, her moisture slick against his thighs each time his naked body slapped against her sticky buttocks again.

He felt a sense of peace.

She did not demand anything from him.

She didn't ask him uncomfortable questions.

She didn't get upset when he couldn't spend time with her, taking handfuls of what he gave her.

For the first time in his life, he finally felt like he was enough for someone.

Her understanding, her humility, her patience, her warmth and joy at every moment they spent together filled his chest with a warm feeling he didn't want to feel.

The only thing she feared was that Alys would try to poison or hurt her. He hadn't visited her since he brought this innocent creature to the Red Keep, filling her to the brim with his seed almost every night.

He guessed that she already knew that she was expecting his child. He ordered his servants to try her food and drink before giving her anything, two of his trusted guards watching her chambers in his absence on his command.

Eventually, however, he received a letter from Harrenhal that Alys had given birth to his son and that her condition was good. He welcomed this news and, albeit reluctantly, decided to travel to Harrenhal to greet his offspring.

He had informed her of this the day before, lying in bed with her, taking an unruly strand of curls from her warm face, raspy with exertion after he had came deep inside her.

"I have to leave for a few days." He said briefly and matter-of-factly, not wanting to get into the subject.

He saw in her gaze that she understood at once what he meant, her eyebrows arched in pain. She nodded, in her eyes both regret and understanding at the same time.

She said nothing.

She knew that she had no right to demand anything from him.

However, he allowed her to snuggle into him, giving her comfort in his arms, enveloping her into his embrace, creating a fortress out of his body in which she could hide.

When he arrived in Harrenhal Alys greeted him with his son in her arms. He kissed her forehead and looked at the white-haired infant with satisfaction, expressing his sincere joy that the child was healthy and that she had survived the birth without complications.

He ate supper with her, however, despite her pleas, he did not stay in bed with her.

He had no desire to do so.

"You are here in body, but not in heart." She said to him regretfully as he sat in a chair in front of her. He looked at her impassively, not knowing what he should reply to such a statement, or from her perspective, an accusation.

"I am performing my duty. Harrenhal is yours, and after your death it will fall to our son. You lack nothing. What more do you want from me, Alys?" He asked frustrated, and she furrowed her raven-black eyebrows, shaking her head.

"I want you. I've lost you." She said in pain, her green eyes red from tears she was holding back by force of her will. She walked towards him and kneeled in front of him, looking at him pleadingly, reaching with her hand to untie his breeches. He stroked her cheek.

"I'm not for sale." He said calmly, pushing her wrist away with a gentle flick of his hand, then slowly got up and walked out, leaving her with an expression of despair and shock on her face.

He had no intention of forcing himself into anything.

He had no intention of pretending.

He never promised her anything.

All he could think about was her sweet lips clenched around his fat cock, sucking it in a wonderfully unhurried, tender rhythm, each time bravely swallowing everything that spilled out of him, doing so with a surprisingly innocent, calm look on her face, drawing from his throat sounds he had never made before.

However, he wanted to be a good father and promised to visit his son once every few months, giving him his full attention.

He returned to King's Landing on Vhagar with a strange kind of relief, tired and discouraged, the stares and silence of Alys driving him mad.

He headed straight for her chamber, wanting to touch her, to smell her, to see her face unbidden by resentment, disappointment and regret.

When he opened the door she shuddered, lifting herself up on the bed, snapped out of a deep sleep. She rose from her place and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

He was relieved to snuggle his nose into her hair, embracing her warm, small body with his arms.

"I'm back."

He took her slowly, asking her how much she had missed him, whether she had obeyed and not touched herself in his absence as he had commanded.

"− I have obeyed you, my Prince − I swear −" She mumbled, her breasts bouncing gently with each of his slow, firm, deep thrusts, her hot muscles throbbing hungrily against him, wanting to keep him inside her, thirsty and yearning.

He hummed contentedly at her words, delighted by her obedience, by the fact that she always did everything to please him.

"− very well − my little girl deserves to be taken care of, hm? − to relieve her a little −" He murmured between tender kisses placed on her neck, his hands roaming over her breasts and belly, her skin wonderfully soft and warm, her scent filling his lungs, her fingers tightening on his arms.

"− yes − please −" She mewled, writhing before him, impatient, having not tasted fulfillment for days.

"− please, what? −" He growled out warningly, tightening his hand on her thigh, lifting it up slightly, sliding into her faster, more violently, her head tilted back.

"− please, my Prince − please, I have waited so patiently for this −" She whimpered, and he chuckled at her words, delighted by her desperation and helplessness.

"− indeed − you deserve a reward − that's right, there you go − good girl −" He praised her as she cried out feeling his hand between her thighs, his palms spread her moisture over her hot womanhood and began to rub her puffy bud with circular, sure strokes, drawing sweet, helpless sounds from her throat.

"− oh, gods − ah −" She mumbled unable to get any meaningful sentences out.

He leaned back pulling her with him, resting the weight of her body against him, gripping her jaw in his hand, the other caressing and teasing the spot of her greatest pleasure. He forced her to look down.

"− look how good you're taking me − how tight you are, how my cock is stretching your body − see? −" He breathed out into her ear and she nodded, moaning and sobbing, her hand rising and involuntarily gripping his hair, her hips responding to his every thrust, their bodies slapping against each other with a wet, loud smacks.

"− do you like this view? − hm? −" He asked in delight, and in response received her loud, pathetic whimper and a powerful orgasm that shook her body.

"− fuck −" He muttered, panting along with her, their bodies relaxed as they lay in a tight embrace, their legs and hands entwined together, his cheek pressed against her shoulder.

He moaned low, surprised, pressing his face against her neck, prolonging his pleasure with a few more desperate thrusts before he peaked inside her with a sigh of relief.

He wasn't sure he'd ever come so hard before.

By a hair's breadth, words would burst out of his mouth that he would later regret, that he would be ashamed of.

Never in his life would he admit out loud that he longed for her.

He licked his effort-dry lips and sighed quietly, closing his eyes, exhausted, falling asleep with her almost immediately, his lungs filling with her pleasant scent.

On the day of her delivery, he was restless, walking around his chamber waiting for any news. He prayed that she would survive, that the child would be healthy, that the gods would not punish them for his actions, for his sins.

When his servant told him that it was all over he waited impatiently until night fell, not wanting to stir up yet more gossip and commentary among the court, and headed to her chamber to visit her.

He felt an immense sense of relief when he saw her lying on her bed, already dressed in a new, clean nightgown, lying under fresh sheets, her hair loose, a dark-haired infant in her hands.

She was rocking their child with an expression of contentment and tenderness on her face from which he felt a squeeze in his chest.

When she heard him enter she lifted her gaze to him, a wide, sincere smile on her face, her eyes shining with happiness.

"Look, my Prince. I have never seen a more beautiful creature than your daughter." She said warmly, and he felt a tightening in his throat at her words, at the news that he had a daughter who could be as kind, warm and affectionate as her mother.

Her mother leaned over her and tenderly kissed her little forehead, humming contentedly.

He approached them slowly and stood over them with his hands folded behind his back, looking at the infant dressed in a long white robe.

His daughter had his eyes.

"She smells wonderful. It's almost addictive. What shall we name her, my Prince?" She asked quietly, lifting her soft, warm gaze to him, their daughter's tiny hand clenched on her finger.

He swallowed loudly, feeling that his throat was strangely constricted, something moving about the sight. He grunted quietly, thinking.

"Rhaenys." He said lowly, pressing his lips together, recalling a sentence in one of the books he was reading, dedicated to Aegon the Conqueror.

King Aegon the Conqueror was said to have married Princess Visenya out of duty, and Princess Rhaenys out of lust and love. For one night with Princess Visenya, he spent ten in his younger sister's bed.

She smiled and nodded, accepting his decision without a word of complaint, apparently deciding it was a nice name, kissing her little daughter's plump cheek.

He did not know why, but he could watch the interactions between her and their daughter for hours sitting in his chair.

Rhaenys appeared to be a cheerful child, babbling loudly, through her mother's incessant speaking to her she reacted vividly to her every move or facial expression, squirming and giggling, catching her feet in her tiny chubby hands, swinging from side to side.

He felt something when he looked at them – he knew it and it frightened him, but he also found some kind of comfort in it.

He could no longer spend a day without visiting them, he spent whole evenings in their company.

At night, when Rhaenys finally fell asleep in her mother's arms, her belly full of her milk, he gave his attention only to her.

He could not find them conversing much, if anything discussing what she was reading to him, however, the way they kissed, the way their lips found each other instantly as soon as he lay down beside her, the way their hands stroked their cheeks and hair made him feel a pleasant, light tickle in his abdomen.

He adored her body, the way it reacted to him. He adored the way she sounded, sweet and innocent, he adored the way she melted under his fingers as he forced his tongue deep inside her, rewarding her for her devotion, for her patience, for her forbearance, as he opened her wide with his cock, hard with desire, to fill her again with his seed.

Not even a few months had passed and she was expecting his child again.

He was paying great attention to her breasts, wonderfully full of milk, sucking her breastmilk from her nipples, sweet and warm, whimpering and panting along with her as she rode him.

"Leave something for our daughter, my Prince." She cooed with warm amusement, stroking his hair and hugging his head to her chest, coming with delight on his painfully hard cock as she listened to him swallow her milk greedily, unable to pull away, filling her with himself with a wonderful sigh of relief.

And then his worst nightmare came true.

Under the inattention of his guards, a strange man burst into her chamber with a dagger, lashing out at her. She struggled against him, but he covered her mouth, trying to cut her throat with his other hand – only the screaming and crying of their daughter brought the guards inside, who disarmed him.

He only managed to slit her arm and wrist, however, what was most frightening when he burst into her chamber, terrified, was the sea of blood between her thighs where she was lying, sobbing loudly.

Their child in her womb.

It was the first time he'd ever heard anyone make a sound like hers – she was wailing and howling as if she were an animal, and he felt as if someone was ripping his insides out from the inside.

He was afraid to touch her, afraid that he would hurt her even more, unable to find words of comfort either for himself or for her.

He sentenced the guards who had allowed this to happen to death despite his mother's pleas for him to show them mercy.

He himself had supervised the interrogation of the man who had been caught, wanting to draw out of him who had done it.

He insisted that he didn't know where he got the money from, that an intermediary had come to him, set him a task and told him he would be paid double if he managed to kill both the girl and their daughter.

More elaborate torture, however, refreshed his memory, one very important detail, the place from which that man had come.

"Harrenhal."

At first he wanted to burn Alys alive in the Vhagar's fire.

Later, however, he decided that he would show her mercy and sent his envoy to her, who after a few days reported to him that the matter had been resolved.

He wrote him that she had not defended herself against the cut of his dagger, as if reconciled to her fate.

He personally flew to take his son from Harrenhal, having no intention of leaving him in the care of strangers.

He was of his blood.

He was relieved that she was treating Vaemond as if he were her child, offering to look after both his children as they needed a mother in the same way. He agreed seeing how quickly his son bonded with her, how he lunged into her embrace reaching out his chubby arms to her, impatient.

He wasn't sure Alys had ever shown him as much tenderness, interest and care as she had. She sang to him and read to him, carried him in her arms for hours when he had a colic or cried.

His presence helped her deal with the grief and suffering of losing their child, her scars had healed, but he knew that, like the one on his face, they would remain on her body for life, reminding her of this event.

Precisely because she had been so caring towards him, his son and their daughter, during the night when he was reunited with her with his body he was even more tender to her, even more understanding, caressing her for hours with his tongue alone, teasing and sucking her bud, making her a babbling, helpless mess, ripping from her fulfilment after fulfilment.

When his brother decided to give him Dragonstone as a reward for his services he took her with him, not imagining that she should be anywhere else.

She wore the gowns he had given her, blue, with long sleeves reaching the ground, emphasising the wonderfully dark colour of her hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, sapphire necklaces around her neck.

Looking at her from the side, sitting on the stone floor, reading to his children at his feet, he thought that enough was enough.

That he would do it right.

He called the right man and told her to follow him into the night without asking where they were going or why.

They got out through a back passage to the seashore.

She did not understand what was happening, why he had said he would cut her lips and her hands, let alone why he had told her to do the same. She trembled with tears in her eyes as he cut her soft skin with the dragonglass, and he watched the sight as if enchanted, strangely calm.

He told her to drink their mingled blood from the goblet, so she did, terrified, touching him by the fact that, as usual, she obeyed him, full of trust.

He took the goblet from her and drank a deep sip from it himself, licking his lips, delighted by this sensation, this ritual that united them forever.

She looked at him questioningly as he handed the cup back to the man standing next to them, wanting to understand what had happened, why they were doing this, what purpose it would serve. He looked at her and for a moment he couldn't get anything out.

He was furious with himself, but he was emotional, his throat constricted.

"I just became your husband."

She looked at him in disbelief and laughed, thinking he was mocking her.

After a moment she made big eyes, her eyebrows arched in pain, her lower lip trembling.

"− please, my Prince, it's not funny −" She gasped regretfully.

He looked down at her with calm eyes, waiting for her to realise he wasn't joking.

If it didn't get to her then, she understood it when he pressed her face against the cold wall of the underpass under Dragonstone, pulling her skirt up, the space between her buttocks shiny and glistening from her juices. He slapped her there with his hand and she cried out loudly, clasping her hands on the stone wall, leaning forward.

"− my little wife is always so fucking wet − hm? − constantly asking for my cock −" He hummed, untying his breeches and lowering them quickly, with one, sure thrust, stretching her tight, hot walls to their limits, their loud moan echoing around them as he began to fuck her with brutal, deep stabs of his hips.

They had their wedding night long ago then, in Harrenhal.

Now he just wanted to fuck her.

"− happy now? −" He mocked and she nodded, all red and hot with emotion, her whole body trembling in convulsions.

He could feel by the way she clenched down on him that she was close to fulfilment and watched with delight as with each thrust his length stretched her tight, hot walls again and again.

"− I'll put my next child inside you − hm? −" He hissed, tightening his fingers more firmly on her hips, pumping his manhood even deeper into her, all the way to the end, her moans turned into mewling and whimpering.

"− you must secure my inheritance − as any − good − wife − would − do −" He growled, the last words uttered accompanied by determined, deep thrusts from which she almost screamed, her face wonderfully red and warm, stunned by the pleasure and this partly brutal, partly passion-filled sensation.

"− please − oh, gods −" She sobbed loudly, coming hard on his length with her mouth wide open, he sighed heavily tilting his head up, feeling her walls throbbing against him and he gave in, filling her at last with himself.

"− take it − take your husband's spend like a good wife − you'll give me many more children − fuck, yes −" He breathed out, looking down at her, holding her hips with his hands, feeling her slump to the ground otherwise.

She opened her eyelids and looked up at him with her hot gaze, the kind he adored most, and whispered the words that sent a shiver through him.

"Fill me again in your bed, my husband."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

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this-insidious-dawn · 8 months

Text

This Insidious Dawn is a dark fantasy IF wherein you play as a vampire, employed under the clandestine League of the Third God to hunt down anything -- everything - that does not belong in this world. But you do not belong here either, Warden. Demo tba.

☼ SYNOPSIS

The League saved you. Rewrote your life- gave you a chance to be more than a bloodstarved vampyr. Or did they?

You remember nothing of your past before the League; nothing but blood and indescribable agony, nothing but the thrumming of your heart stilling- and then beginning again, stilted and wrong. That was over a decade ago, the memories now faint and the connection quivering. They've been replaced, overwritten by years of blades clashing, body aches, and hollow hunger.

You started out weak. Starving, skin-and-bones, desperate for any reprieve you could get your hands on. Now, you're strong, each hunt -- each cut - giving you just enough energy to keep your worn body going. Some people would call it cruel, to keep a sentient being on the edge of death. Most people, though, would say that you're a vampire, so you hardly count as sentient.

Regardless of the morality of it, the method was effective. You were one of -- no, the most - efficient Warden the League had to offer.

And then a hunt went wrong. And now you're dead. But- a vampire (no, not a vampire; a vampyr) can never truly die. So you're back. But is it really you?

☼ FEATURES

↠ Customize your Warden. Appearance, gender, pronouns, and personality are all up to your choices as the player.

↠ This is a psychological horror first and foremost. It will have themes of dehumanization and derealization, amongst others. CWs will be offered.

↠ A character-driven plot where your choices impact the story.

↠ A cast of four consisting of The Acolyte, The Commander, The Savior, and The Forgotten, any of which you can optionally romance no matter your Warden's gender.

☼ CAST

↠ THE ACOLYTE

As with any vampire, you are accompanied by an acolyte to keep you in check and ensure that your hunts go well- as well as to mend any Gorges that riftspawn might crawl out of. Constantine Nimecidus fills this role, in your case (ae/aer). Ae is sharp-tongued, with a chronic lack of patience towards the people and world around aer, and can come across as snappy or rude. In other instances still, aer sarcastic, dry, and often untimely humor can offer a quick relief from the tension of any situation- or make it several times worse. Despite aer casual, laidback nature in the face of most events, ae places utmost importance on aer job, and quickly becomes intense whenever ae feels as if ae or aer position are being in any way threatened. You've spent years going on hunts with aer at this point, but the connection has never transcended the necessary 'I save you, you save me' exchange. Ae seems wary of you.

Constantine is a bit shorter than most, standing at 5'3. Ae has broad shoulders and hips, and is thickset with both muscle and fat. Aer amber skin is dappled with symmetrical pale patches, especially prevalent around aer eyes and mouth, and the lack of pigmentation has bled into aer hair in some spots, giving the dark auburn eye-catching streaks of white. Said hair is curly and cut shorter along the sides than the back is, and ae spends an awful lot of time preening it. Aer eyes are a striking, slightly luminescent bronze, and aer pupils appear instead of black as molten gold, shifting slightly in color to match aer emotions at any given moment. Ae has full lips and slightly upturned, monolid eyes. Ae favors shades of brown, tan, and orange in aer outfit, and ae near-constantly dons a rich red capelet with fur trimming around the hood.

↠ THE COMMANDER

Ex-commander of the Serpent's Guard-turned vampire. You'd personally never had a run-in with Alvaros Vepir until just recently (he/him). He's gruff, jaded, and withdrawn- exactly what you'd expect out of the man who gave his life for his queen only to nearly die (again) for it. It's hard to say, though, how much of his time as the commander he truly remembers. Alvaros is a poet's dream, the hero in an epic-turned-tragedy. He keeps everybody at arm's length, never allowing them to learn more than what the stories and theatrics tell of him. This is especially true of you- the vampire who was sent to reign him in, turn him from a rogue vampyr into a soldier of the League. Despite his emotional avoidance of you, though, he seems quite interested in you. Maybe it's the fact you're one of the few to have bested him in combat. Maybe it's just that 'vampiric charm' that old legends tell about (but that never seems to work outside of fights). Maybe it's because he remembers you.

Alvaros is intimidating in every manner. He stands at 6'4, his whole body is lean and scarred, and the black sclerae encircling dark green irises certainly does him no favors in lessening the effect. Before you were dispatched to retrieve him, you couldn't have said what he looked like; as the commander, he'd worn the veil regular of high-ranking members of the Serpent's Ring, leaving nothing but the back of his head exposed. Now, you know of his face well enough that you could probably recognize him in a crowd. With fawn skin dotted by freckles, hooded eyes, and a distinctive hooked nose, Alvaros is exactly what one would expect of a native of southern Ghel- save for his hair. Instead of the expected brown or black, his hair is a muddy blonde, and it has slight waves that turn into full curls at the tips. He maintains it short, never reaching past his chin. His face is scarred (his everything is, really), with a particularly nasty gash reaching from his left eyebrow down to his right jaw. It just barely misses his right eye.

↠ THE SAVIOR

An acolyte? You think so, anyways. Suri Revlece is the woman who saved you (she/her). You don't know whether or not she's even with the League, but she certainly looks like an acolyte. You don't know what she was doing there, either, but she seems willing to answer any of your questions while you recover- as long as they aren't personal. She's kind enough, but seems a little...off. She's finicky, always looking over her shoulder. She's running from something, but she doesn't seem to know what. She appears to believe that she and you have some type of camaraderie, although you've never met. But there's something to be said for the sheer strength of her magic- you've never seen an acolyte's shimmer burn a riftspawn like that. Never seen one with an eye glowing that bright, either. She's an anomaly- one that you're sure the headman at your partner's spire would be more than glad to have amongst their ranks, but then the mere idea of it had her denying it with vehemence. It seems like she has a history with it.

Suri has a mesmerizing look to her. The deep brown of her skin, near-black of her hair, and dark garb are contrasted with bright pops of color. One eye is a brightly glowing orange, the pupil nearly white, and the other is a misty grey, its almond shape deformed by the burn scars warping the left side of her face. That dark hair, braided and reaching down to about her hips, is decorated by light brown and gold beads engraved with runes that seem to serve to channel her magic. Her frame is lanky and she's long-limbed, reaching just above what most would think of as an 'average height', at 5'8. Below a brown leather cloak, more runed jewelry decorates her wrists and fingers, and her hands are tattooed in shades of bronze. The burn upon her face is not the only such injury she has suffered; her palms are burnt the slightest bit, and similar scars wrap around her arms. She has a broad nose and thick heart-shaped lips, and light stubble sits above the top lip.

↠ THE FORGOTTEN

You don't know who they are anymore. Who are they? (he/they/she)

A shadowy form, the silhouette of a memory. There's something not quite right about them. What have they become?

☼ LINKS

Demo - tba

Other blogs - @azraels-bad-choices (main IF blog) and @a-firsthand-murder-ballad (other project)

#interactive fiction #writing #interactive novel #if wip #twine game #if intro #this insidious dawn if

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toastandjamie · 4 months

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Things about the band of the red hand that I think about on the daily:

-all the nobles in the Band competing to be Mat’s Favorite Noble(the answer is Talmanes but no one tell them that)

-after the battle of Cairihan, Talmanes and Nalesian putting aside their differences to defend Mat’s honor from the perceived slight of him not getting a parade

-Talmanes clearly knowing Mat is trying to ditch them and proceeding to insist on going with Mat literally everywhere until Mat gave up

-every noble in the band preening over being on Mat’s short list of “tolerable nobles” they are very proud of this fact and will brag about the fact that Mat willingly interacts with them

-Mat, half delirious from pain, teaching the band Jak’o’shadows and immediately regretting it as the band begins to sing it at every given opportunity and adds an entirely new verse dedicated to him

-while Mat was stuck in Ebou Dar every member of the band that was not with him simultaneously feeling the Ta’veren pull like a Spiderman esque sixth sense for knowing their general is in trouble

-upon feeling the Ta’veren pull, Talmanes immediately guilting Egwene into telling him where Mat is

-the band collectively deciding that their Olver’s cool uncles and teaching him to gamble, flirt with women, use weapons, and steal horses. You know, like responsible adults.

-when Mat is at the tower of genji, Talmanes being left in charge of Olver like the worlds most reluctant babysitter

-after seeing Mat refuse Aes Sedai healing every single member of the band deciding that they to would heal the old fashioned way

-a large portion of the band going out and getting tattoos together after they officially became the Band of The Red Hand

-Mat making one off hand mention of the original Band of the Red Hand from Manethran and the Band deciding that that was now the name of their mercenary band despite Mat’s protests

-the band deciding that No, they will not serve the Dragon Reborn, instead they’ll enlist into the service of the guy who Does Not Want Them

-the band deciding that Mat was a lord on principle because he’s just that good at fighting battles

-not a single member of the band was ever revealed to be a dark friend, they all just genuinely wanted to follow Mat with no ulterior motives

-every member of the band being willing to die for Mat at any given moment

-when Mat initially showed up to warn the army that they were walking into a Shaido ambush, Talmanes calling Mat’s bluff and getting him to begrudgingly agree to leading a portion of the army

-Mat effectively death glaring the bands nobles into a meritocracy

#wheel of time #mat cauthon #the band of the red hand #wot nonsense

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auspicioustidings · 3 months

Text

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 2

Love in the Guise of Friendship

Summary: 6 months pass and you learn to deal with your grief with help from an unexpected source. Words: 3.2k TWs: allusions to suicidal thoughts

Parts: 1 2 3

13 days after the world ended

“Please take him.”

You were a terrible mother. You couldn’t even hold your own son. You hoped as Joseph cried and Kyle took him and tried to soothe him that someone would come and take the baby away from you. You didn’t deserve to have something so precious when every time you held him you wanted to throw up. A few times you had, putting him down quickly and diving for the toilet. Head leant on the toilet seat, sweaty hair sticking to it and looking at the little thing on the hard tiled floor whose eyes belonged to a spectre, you sometimes wished you would do the right thing and just die already so someone better could take him.

Kyle had stayed in your flat since the world ended. Johnny’s mother had wanted to and it was a small mercy that she hadn’t pushed. The idea of her being there made you want to lay down and let the earth swallow you up. You hadn’t seen Price although the groceries that arrived every few days had his name next to the order. Nothing at all from Ghost. You wondered if he found you disgusting. Sometimes it felt like he could see right to the heart of you. Sometimes it felt like he had seen the ugliness when your baby had died, and then he had seen it when your husband had died, and now he knew that you were wretched and unfit for love. You half expected him to show up in the night to take Joseph away.

“Come on little man, can’t be giving your mum such a hard time. If this is what you’re like now you’ll drive her right mental when you start teething.”

Fuck. The sob that came out of you was a broken and pathetic thing. It was just that Johnny had said something similar when you had first taken Joseph home. As it did at least five times a day, the grief smothered you so entirely that Kyle had to steer you into the nest of blankets and pillows you had built yourself on the couch. He was staying in the bedroom with Joseph right now. You couldn’t go in there yet. You didn’t know when you would be able to.

“It’s ok, we’ll try again tomorrow yeah?”

You managed a limp nod as you burrowed into the bedding that had stopped smelling like cosiness among a winter pine forest a week ago. You would try again tomorrow.

–

23 days after the world ended

“She can’t be on her own.”

Simon had hoped that you’d be at least a little better by now. You’d never be ok, he more than anyone understood that, but you would learn to live again. You hadn’t seen him since that horrible night. The 141 never officially attended the family funeral, they had taken a portion of the ashes and held their own memorial for their fallen brother. But Ghost had seen you, had been there in the shadows keeping watch.

He had near threatened to quit if Gaz wasn’t given leave to stay with you. He had asked him to, although he suspected he might have done it anyway. You needed someone and after seeing how you had paled speaking with Johnny’s family he had made arrangements. Mrs MacTavish hadn’t been happy to stay away, but he was blunt when he told her that despite her best intentions, being around Johnny’s family would break you right now. He was steadfast in his belief that there was still enough of you left to break.

“Garrick…”

“Don’t Garrick me Lieutenant. You… you’re better at this kind of thing than I am. Stop being a prat and get over here, she needs you right now.”

“We don’t even like each other.”

“You don’t have to. You understand each other, that’s enough.”

He knew that Gaz was right. If anyone understood this sort of all encompassing grief, it was going to be him. He had already pulled you back from it once before. But it was different this time. This time his own grief was choking him and if he added it to yours he was scared it would kill you both.

It was selfishness that had kept him away this long. Gaz was grieving too and he had been left with the responsibility of keeping your head above the water in the sea you had made of your sorrow. He had stayed by your side even when his own support system was waiting for him in his London flat. He had met Gaz’s partner a few times, he knew they would be there to soothe him like he needed. But because Ghost was a fucking coward, instead his Seargent (the one he hadn’t let fucking die in his arms) was with you. Only now the cracks were starting to show and Gaz needed to be home before he splintered entirely under the weight of it all.

“Ghost?”

“Ok. I’ll be round tomorrow.”

–

30 days after the world ended

“You have got to be kidding.”

There was no way that the big scary man in the balaclava, that you still hadn’t seen him without despite your best efforts, was this hopeless at cooking.

“S’too fucking long! Or your pot isn’t big enough!”

Oh God he sounded so unlike himself right then. Gone was the gruff, smug bastard and in his place was, dare you say, someone embarrassed. And he damn well should be in honesty. What grown man couldn’t even make spaghetti? All the pasta noodles had a section of scorching from where they had been left laying against the edge of the pot. There was a startling sound in the air, one you had forgotten existed. His eyes were wide as it carried through the room. It took you a moment to parse the sound. It was coming from you. You were laughing.

His wide eyed surprise quickly giving way to a glare over the fact that you would dare laugh at his expense only made you laugh harder, clutching at your stomach with one arm and wiping frantically at your watering eyes with the other.

“Big scary skull man defeated by Italian food!” you wheezed, your entire body clinging to the feeling of giddy lightness at this moment. “Is that why you wear it? Hiding the mortification from being outdone by” you paused to read the packet and the ridiculousness of it only made you laugh hard enough to be snorting like a pig, “Fedelini number 10!”

Ghost nearly ripped off his balaclava right there and then to prove he was not in fact mortified which would have been a disaster considering his logical brain was certain his cheeks and ears were burning red, but little Joseph rescued him from the further humiliation when he gave a happy gurgle from his high chair that had you scooping him up. You were laughing and cooing at him as you showed him the burnt pasta, telling him about the big scary skull man who was hiding his face for fear of reprisal from every Italian on the planet.

It was the first time you had held him without those storm clouds in your eyes and that awful rigidity from all the tension swimming through you. He was struck terrified for a moment that he would fuck up and this fragile happiness would shatter, but when you turned to him, making fun of him through the baby, his mouth was moving before he could overthink it.

“Your ma’s a brat Joe. She forgets that I saw her attempt at a birthday cake.”

“It was avant garde! And it was still delicious!” you said with a gasp of outrage that he would dare to bring up the great birthday cake disaster of 2021.

“You know he only told you that to spare your feelings, right princess?”

You pressed Joseph to your chest with a hand to his ear, feigning blocking him from hearing such slander.

“This is why the universe messed up your hearing J, to protect you from all these lies coming from casper over here.”

The pasta was thrown out and you ordered in (Italian of course). Now that you could hold Joseph without your gut roiling you found you didn’t want to stop, but you still paused at the bedroom door and passed him off to Ghost instead. He didn’t push it, not tonight, not after you had laughed and held Joe and not drowned at the mention of something Johnny had said. Soon though. He was getting you back into a proper bed soon.

–

2 months after the world ended

Price was staying out of it although taking great amusement in watching it happen (even if his heart felt like it was in a woodchipper watching the biggest two casualties of his war). Joseph in his arms was happy to tug at his beard and not too concerned about the fight happening.

You were like a fucking feral cat is what Ghost thought as you kicked your legs and battered your fists against his back. He didn’t really think about it when he laid a spank on your ass causing an indignant squawk from you. Maybe if either of you were willing to see one another as anything but enemies it might have caused an entirely different reaction.

“You put me down you fucking animal!”

“Language princess, little ears listening.”

Oh he thought he was hilarious clearly since you both knew Price had turned off Joe’s hearing aid the minute this started kicking off. You thought otherwise. Stupid bonehead didn’t have a funny bone in his body. Prick.

“I’m not bloody sleeping there!”

“Yes you bloody are!”

He had coaxed you into the bedroom over the last few weeks, but despite his efforts you still wouldn’t sleep in the bed and he had completely run out of patience. Compassion had been fully overruled by annoyance. You were an absolute pain in his arse and it was driving him crazy that you would be so stubborn about this.

Plus he was starting to get antsy about sleeping on the bedroom floor. Since you were on the couch he couldn’t take that, and even though the bed smelled faintly of Gaz which would have been fine, the first time he had laid down in it the bottom pillow still held a whisper of whiskey in front of a fireplace, frosted pine trees perfuming through a window. So he had slept on the floor and not told you. Then he had just sort of kept doing it.

“Jesus fuck woman!” he hissed when your nails dragged up his back as he crossed the threshold to the bedroom.

“Should’ve wore your fucking kevlar if you were intending on getting into a fight with me. I’m going to rip you apart casper.”

He laughed as he grabbed your hips and up ended you over his shoulder and onto the bed, an offt coming from you as you bounced. You hadn’t been on this bed since the world ended. The thought of it would floor you. It had taken a monumental effort to even be in the room. Ghost had only convinced you with the fact that Joe slept better with the crib in the bedroom and needed his mum to put him down for naps and sleeps.

Only now all the panic you usually felt in this room, all the horror of the idea of being in this bed, was crushed under the weight of your fury at this idiot’s smug eyes looking down at you. Not on your life would you let him win a fight. Just because he was a lumbering giant with bad taste in masks did not mean he could take you on. So instead of hyperventilating and crawling off the bed to curl up on the floor and cry, you lunged to throttle him.

When the growling and yelling stopped a minute or so later Price peeked into the room to make sure you hadn’t actually killed one another to find both of you in the bed, your back to Simon’s chest with his legs pinning yours and his arms holding you lightly in a sleeper hold. Not enough to significantly cut off your oxygen, but enough to immobilise you and have you silently simmering with rage at being caught.

There were red lines down Simon’s arms, claw marks. Your hair was a mess, mussed and wrecked from what must have been a savage wrestling match. Was that…? Price laughed as he bounced Joseph.

“Better hope she isn’t rabid Simon.”

“He started it” you grumbled, maybe a little chagrined now faced with the reality of Captain John Price seeing teeth marks on his soldier’s forearm.

Joseph perked up and chubby little hands flailed as he reached toward you. Price sat down on the edge of the bed to hand the little bundle of trouble over into your arms, Ghost’s hold loosening as his legs released yours and his arms dropped, hands finding a comfortable position lightly resting on your hips.

Neither of you put any conscious thought into the position, you sat between his legs, almost leant back on his chest with the baby cooing happily in your arms as Ghost waggled his eyebrows over your shoulder. You were both content to just lay all your attention on the most perfect baby to have ever existed and his beautiful eyes.

The woodchipper whirred violently.

–

4 months after the world ended

You didn’t know what was more startling about the fact that Ghost had just burst into the bathroom with Joseph in his arms, the fact that you were naked in the bath or the fact that you could see Simon Riley.

He sort of lived with you now, neither of you willing to be the first to voice that you were doing a lot better these days and probably didn’t need someone living in to make sure you didn’t go off the deep end. You thought Kyle was going to say something about it last time he visited, but he seemed to think better of it and kept quiet.

But in all that time you had never seen him without his mask. You had caught glimpses of a strong jawline when he ate, seen clear eyes when he stopped putting eye black on them a few weeks back. Strangely after wanting to trick him into letting you see him, you had ignored the chance of it a week ago. He had been leaning over the crib and you caught a glimpse of skin that told you he had his balaclava off. Only you didn’t walk in. You don’t know why you didn’t. Instead you quietly left the room again and stood by the wall outside, covering your mouth to smother an unexpected sob when you heard the soft sound of a lullaby being sung.

He was a wild and twisted sort of handsome (not that he hadn’t told you several times he was good looking, for such a large and intimidating man he was actually a bit of an arrogant, smug tosser once you got to know him). The scars didn’t really make you flinch, you were married to Johnny after all and while his face wasn’t too badly marked up outside of a few knicks and small lines he had plenty of gnarled scar tissue around his body. You had been married to him. His face hadn’t been too badly marked.

“Ok, hang on, let’s do it again for mum Joe.”

Simon looked almost crazed as he stuck his tongue out at your son, seemingly not bothered in the slightest that you were still very much completely naked in the bath. You would have screamed at him to get out, only as he started screwing up his nose and crossing his eyes J laughed and any concern about your state of dress or his rude interruption died in your throat.

“Oh… oh my God! Fuck wait where’s my phone! Can you do it again J? Is Simon’s face funny?” you cooed, nearly sliding and cracking your head open as you rushed to your feet and lunged out of the tub to get your phone from the counter so you could make sure you had video evidence of this moment forever.

Both an unmasked Simon and a dripping wet and naked you cooed and made silly faces and laughed along for the next 10 minutes before Joseph decided he was well and truly tuckered out from practising his new talent and conked out on Simon’s shoulder.

Only without the excitement of baby’s first laugh did you both realise the situation and blink in shock at one another. Simon’s eyes flickered briefly over you, and absolutely ass that he was he bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“Nice piercing.”

Your face blazed red. Simon Riley had no business knowing that you had a barbell through the hood of your clit.

“Cute scars.”

Simon found the tips of his ears warming. You had no business knowing that he had a variety of scars on his face.

As if the spell keeping you both frozen in place broke, you snatched a towel and turned to wrap yourself in it while he turned his back so you couldn’t see his face. Both stood in the bathroom, backs to one another, there was an awkward beat of hesitation with neither of you knowing how to diffuse this situation.

“I’ll… put him down. I’ll put him down.”

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll just… get dressed.”

“Right.”

You were both very careful to not bring it up again, even when Simon never wore the balaclava around the house after that.

–

6 months after the world ended

It was love in the guise of friendship. Neither of you were stupid enough to acknowledge it.

–

2 hours after the fuck up of the century

“Permission to speak freely Captain.”

“Granted.”

“I fucking told ye so. Simmons has always been a shitebag, and now he’s fucked us.”

“...I won’t make you stay.”

“Aye, but we both know if I pull out of this now the world gets dirty.”

The despair settled into Price’s bones. John MacTavish should be on his way to exfil right now, but instead was on the other end of a burner phone as Price sat in the helo that wouldn’t be taking his Sergeant home as planned.

He hated this. He hated holding little Joseph MacTavish knowing that Soap was missing it. He hated looking at you and seeing the way your eyes sometimes glazed, mind drifting to your apparently dead husband. He hated looking at Simon and seeing a man slowly falling in love and drowning in guilt about it.

But he had to get dirty to keep the world clean.

So they changed the plan. Simmons had well and truly fucked it and now they needed to be in it for the long haul. John MacTavish would stay a dead man. Vladimir Makarov would be given no reason to suspect that his double agent was a triple agent, which meant a comms blackout until Soap was certain beyond doubt that it was time to pull the trigger. Nobody but him, Price and Laswell would ever know.

There was one thing asked of Price and he swore to it. He would do anything in his power to make sure you and Joseph were happy and looked after. He didn’t dare comment when after a moment, Soap added Simon Riley to that small list.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader

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thisphantomlife · 5 months

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Songs Hozier has covered

Bowie - Changes, Young Americans (see also Trinity Orchestra section)

Prince - I Wanna Be Your Lover, Raspberry Beret, Jungle Love

James Carr - The Dark End Of The Street

The Beatles - Blackbird

John Lennon (Donny Hathaway version) - Jealous Guy (at the goldenplec block party with Zaska)

Ariana Grande - Problem

Warren G - Regulate (mashup with Problem)

James Blake - Retrograde

Tom Waits - Strange Weather

Florence and the Machine - Cosmic Love

Stevie Wonder - Living for the City, As

Sting - 7 Days

The BeeGees - To Love Somebody

Lauryn Hill - Doo Wop (that thing)

Amerie - One Thing

Skip James - Illinois Blues

Muddy Waters - Catfish Blues

Van Morrison - Caravan, Sweet Thing, Domino, Brown Eyed Girl, Saint Dominic’s Preview

Bill Withers - Ain’t No Sunshine

Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know

Demi Lovato - Sorry Not Sorry

Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love

Fun - We Are Young

Paul Simon - Bridge Over Troubled Water

Sam Smith - Lay Me Down

Destiny’s Child - Say My Name

Britney Spears - Toxic (snippet)

The Band - The Weight

Otis Rush version of Willie Dixon and the Big Three Trio - My Love Will Never Die

The Talking Heads - Burning Down the House (Instagram live messing around with friends)

The Staple Singers - Let’s Do it Again

The Weather Forecast 🤪

Ed Lewis - I Be So Glad When the Sun Goes Down (Instagram snippet)

Mavis Staples - Eyes on the Prize

Jackie Wilson - (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher

The Meters - Just Kissed My Baby

Christmas Songs - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Winter Wonderland, Santa Claus is Coming to Town (with others at the Xmas Eve Ball 2015)

Traditional Irish songs - My Lagan Love, The Humours of Whiskey, I Am Stretched On Your Grave, The Rolling Wave (on the low whistle), The Parting Glass, The Lonely Jig (on the low whistle)

(Live) Collabs - that are not Andrew’s own songs

Alvin Youngblood Hart - Illinois Blues

Maren Morris - The Bones, My Church, Girl, The Tree

Annie Lennox - I Put a Spell on You (Screamin Jay Hawkins cover)

Tom Odell - Another Love

Noah Kahan - Northern Attitude

Allison Russell - Requiem, Stop Dragging My Heart Around (Stevie Nicks & Tom Petty cover)

Brandi Carlile - The Joke, Walk On (U2 cover), The Weight (The Band cover)

Jamala - Walk On (U2 cover)

Mavis Staples - The Weight (The Band cover), Keep Your Eyes on the Prize (with Our Native Daughters, Jason Isbell and Phil Cook)

Boygenius - Salt in the Wound

Alana Henderson - Ae Fond Kiss (poem by Robert Burns)

U2 - When Love Comes to Town

Tori Kelly - Blackbird (the Beatles cover)

Mumford and Sons - Guiding Light, Awake My Soul, With a Little Help From My Friends (Beatles cover, with other artists)

Lake Street Dive - Everyday People (Sly and the Family Stone cover)

Rachael Price - Rental Love

Victoria Canal - Swan Song

Elwood (his dog) - Don’t Go Breaking My Heart (Elton John and Kiki Dee cover, Insta snippet)

All the artists at Love Rocks NYC 2022 - Like A Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan cover), Feeling Alright (Traffic cover)

Brian Kennedy (and others) - I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free (Nina Simone cover)

His Dad - The Weight (The Band cover at MSG)

Zaska, Wyvern Lingo, Loah - Sir Duke (Stevie Wonder cover)

Eabha McMahon - Bright Blue Rose (Jimmy McCarthy cover)

Christmas Eve Busk 2015

Bono, Glen Hansard - When Love Comes to Town, Every Breaking Wave

Glen Hansard, Imelda May - The Dark End of the Street (James Carr cover)

Christmas Eve Busk 2017

Glen Hansard, Coronas, Imelda May, Liam O Maonlaoi - So This is Christmas (John Lennon cover), The Aul Triangle

Music Groups

Nova Collective - (original songs) Tuile, Closer, Quick Bossa

Zaska - (original songs) In Your Own Sweet Time, Different Light, She Gunk Gunk Dunk A Funk, Oh Yeah

Anuna - with Andrew on lead vocals: The Raid, La Chanson de Mardi Gras. With Andrew in the choir: Jingle Bells, An Uaithne

The Wiggles - Cherry Tree Carol with Anuna

Trinity Orchestra - songs covered with Andrew on lead vocals

~ Queen - Somebody To Love, Don’t Stop Me Now

~ Arcade Fire - My Body is a Cage

~ Pink Floyd - Time, Breathe, Comfortably Numb, Shine on You Crazy Diamond, Money

~ Michael Jackson - Earth Song, Black or White, Smooth Criminal

~ David Bowie - Heroes

*This list may not be complete. It only contains songs that can be found online.

Please let me know if any songs are missing so I can add them 🫶

I’ve not included the songs he sang snippets of on that Song Association interview

#hozier #hozier covers #hozier collabs #list of songs Hozier has covered

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moghedien · 9 months

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ok so i was genuinely unsure about how I felt about the way Lanfear was revealed in the moment, but there are three main things that are really selling it for me:

1: It immediately sets up the threat of going up against a Forsaken:

So far we haven't really gotten much of an indication from the show about what the Forsaken really are, who they are, and why they're any different that a regular darkfriend. Obviously there's still a ways to go in explaining it, but Lanfear provided an immediate visual explanation

Because for example, we've already seen one darkfriend innkeeper who had a thing for Rand (or pretended to) take a knife through the throat

We've even seen Rand stick around and linger by her body and its very clear that absolutely nothing happens.

We get a lingering shot on her bleeding out and she is very clearly actually dead in this moment. Its not even really a question.

But with Lanfear we kinda get the exact opposite of this moment. We see her take a knife to the throat and clearly go down, then there is no lingering by the characters.

The camera goes back to her and we see the saa very clearly moving in her eye, then she blinks and breaths in.

And by this being the opposite of Dana, I mean that with Dana there was no question that she was actually dead. With Lanfear, there is absolutely no question that she's still alive.

Dana was also a darkfriend, but this is very clearly showing non readers that Lanfear is something DIFFERENT. We're told she's a darkfriend of some kind, then we're seen that she actually apparently cannot die by normal means. This coming AFTER the reveal that she is definitely a channler of some kind, and if we now know she's a Forsaken, then we know that Moiraine clearly said the Forsaken are the most powerful channlers ever, more powerful than any Aes Sedai.

And now apparently they can't die.

2. Its foreshadowing.

Moiraine was able to take out Lanfear (if only temporarily) with a physical attack because Lanfear was so fixated on Rand.

The above is also a spoiler for the climax of a certain book.

I'm not gonna get into it, but its clearly like showing that there's a course of action and there is a playbook that works here.

3. NOW we have Lanfear

Before we had Selene. I'd argue there were even moments where we had Mierin, but the only time Lanfear has really come out before this was when she went into Rand's dream and threatened him in episode 3.

By this I mean that while Selene was always obviously an act Lanfear was putting on, it stopped us from really seeing how manipulative and obsessive Lanfear could be and was currently being. If we didn't know she was Lanfear (and non readers shouldn't) then there's no reason to realize the lengths to her manipulation. We still don't know that the man she was telling Rand about was Lews Therin. We still don't know that Lanfear even knew Lews Therin much less would want to rekindle any kind of lost romance with his reincarnation. Because even when Lanfear was being honest as Selene, she was keeping herself back. She wasn't latching onto Rand and telling him that he was hers. She was very clearly holding onto the memory of Lews Therin, but there has yet to be any clear indication that she 100% buys that Rand and Lews Therin are the same person rather than Rand just being his reincarnation.

So while Lanfear was definitely getting some joy out of sleeping with Lews Therin reborn, there is no real indication that that is what she wanted. She said she wants Lews Therin. She tells Rand she's more or less settling for him. Let's assume that was 100% honest for the moment (because I believe it mostly is to a point), I don't think that's the case after this episode. Because Mierin Eronaile suddenly got the one thing she'd always wanted:

If you watch the moments immediately before this scene and immediately after, there is a shift in how Lanfear is acting here.

Before she was very clearly putting on an act. She was playing up being afraid of Rand and didn't seem at all concerned about keeping him here. The most she does is ask him where he's going to go, and even that is said in a weird tone unless you know that she's probably going to use this information to keep tabs on him and report it/follow him herself.

But Rand does the one thing he absolutely shouldn't have done with Lanfear and told her that he loves her.

So now I think is the moment where Lanfear is willing to accept that Rand is Lews Therin. Because if Rand is Lews Therin, then Lews Therin just said that he loves her.

And her entire tone shifts here. You can see she's visibly shocked in the moment, and then smiles and flips the scene to her being afraid of him, to her reassuring him and telling him that he should have told her and telling him that he didn't do anything wrong and he was just acting in his nature. Before she was bringing up the inn and was clearly trying to make him feel bad. Now she's clearly trying to reassure him and keep him around. Absolutely manipulation but I think she didn't really need him to stay until he indicated that he loved her.

So what this means is that we now have Lanfear, who is established as being unkillable and one of the most powerful and oldest being in existence, NOW becoming obsessed with Rand al'Thor and thinking of him entirely as Lews Therin. And not only that, but now she's PISSED because he just left her and was taken away from her by Moiraine exactly when she finally had him back after thousands of years.

She finally got everything she's wanted and it was immediately taken away, and I think that's frankly terrifying, so yeah, I think I do like this reveal now actually.

#also like #the books make it prettty obvious who she is #like if you don't suspect Selene is who's being talked about in that creepy poem from the moment she talks then idk #I think it was best to withhold that info until it needed to be revealed #there's few Forsaken reveals that I find like actually surprising or satisfying in the books #and surprise surprise the only one I can think of that I genuinely like is Moghedien's reveal to Liandrin's black ajah group #mostly because it scared the Black Ajah shitless when they realized the maid girl they'd been abusing was a Chosen #wheel of time #wot on prime #wot book spoilers #wot show spoilers #lanfear #long post

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howlingday · 23 days

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Irish jaune au

Jaune is the same, except he's Irish, so he's barely eligible. And when a usra bites him, it dies of alcohol possession. Beacon discover his tolerance for alcohol when he chalinges the school to a drinking game for 10$ each. Back to back, he wins. Even beating qrow.

On the one hand, this could be seen as offensive. On the other hand, I know just the Irish character to use...

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"I'm sure one day you'll learn to love it..."

Jaune: But he was wrong. I dinnae like it. Winchester, yer drunk. Piss-faced drunk. On power, authority, and influence. OZMA is supposed tae be an arm of violence, an ah'm just a man-killing meat cleaver. It's ma only power by which tae serve the people.

Jaune: Winchester, noo, ye've quit serving people. A' ye're serving is HER power. Eh? Isnae that right?

Jaune: ARCHKING CARDINAL?

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Jaune: Now what can I do for ya, Father Qrow O'm'ly'O'C'nel'O'C'rol'O'Rily'O'Bri'n'O'Sul'van.. Ah-who is also Italian.

Qrow: Tell-a me, Arc, what is your favorite thing to do?

Jaune: Spreading the word and eternal love of The Brothers at the many people of the world. Teaching peace and love for all.

Qrow: And-a killing-a Grimm?

Jaune: Oh, just try tae fuckin' stop me~!

Qrow: And what about... Oumists?

Jaune: Second verse, same as the first! Now put me on ae plane so Ah can put 'em in ae hearse~!

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Jaune: (In Glynda's face) HAHAHAHAHAHA! DID YE HEAR, NORA?! DID YE HEAR, REN?! With ae bleeding nose and ae veritable freak force 'afore her?!

Jaune: "Come and get me"? "Ah will fight ye"?

Jaune: GYEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Nae mistaking it. She, this woman and a' with her...

Jaune: ...ARE OOR SWORNEST ENEMIES! OOR ARCHENEMIES!

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Goodwitch: (Via scroll) JUMP UP YOUR OWN ASS AND DIE!. (Hangs up)

Ruby: (Sighs, Slumps) Beacon... We have no~ problems!

Jaune: (Kicks in the door) RRGH!

Ruby: Okay, dude, I need, like, a minute or so before I'm-

Jaune: (Punches Ruby to the floor)

Ruby: NEVERMIND, WE'RE BACK IN BUSINESS!

Weiss: I've got him-!

Jaune: (Shield bashes her over the counter)

Weiss: (Dazed, Shaking)

Ruby: Ugh! Great! You triggered her! Gonna be all day with this...

Jaune: The Brothers have handed down ae blessing to ye filthy heathens as ae sign of good will... A small private Ozian jet. Now, if ye would be so very divinely-like tae ship yer sawry pale ass oot! (Points) And take yer dainty, white hoor with ye! And the cat-boy!

Blake: Donc quai?

Ruby: Man, I don't know what I find funnier: The Church of the Brothers strong-arming you into helping us, or the fact that you obviously haven't seen what I did to the statue of Big Bois~!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: (Screams at the Brother statues now graffiti'd with "INCEST IS WINCEST" and "BROTHERLY LOVE IS REAL LOVE")

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Ruby: And so, you've broken through the siege and now stand face to face with me. Good... Good... Exactly what I'd expect from Ozma. From Jaune Arc.

Jaune: (Standing with a broken arm)

Ruby: Oh? It seems you didn't make it through unscathed.

Jaune: SO WHAT ABOOT IT, VAMPIRE?! (Biting sleeve, Pulls up) Ma arm's just torn up is a'. Quit yer blasted boastin' and come. COME AT ME. Hurry, HURRY!

#rwby #irish jaune au #jaune arc #glynda goodwitch #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #qrow branwen #hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing ultimate abridged

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markantonys · 9 months

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i'm thinking about nynaeve's line to egwene in the testing vision about how egwene will be a better "servant of all" than nynaeve ever could be. i love that moment so much! because it plays into one of my very favorite Themes from the books: the difference between heroes who focus on the greater good, sometimes at the expense of individuals (egwene, rand, moiraine, elayne) and heroes who focus on individuals, sometimes at the expense of the greater good (nynaeve, perrin, mat). and neither is inherently better or worse than the other, it's just two different ways of looking at the world! for each character, we see moments where their outlook is a strength as well as moments where it's a weakness/flaw.

i saw someone say that nynaeve undersells herself in that line because throughout the show we've seen HER be a servant of all. and that's very true............IF we define "all" as "the two rivers." nynaeve would die & kill for Her People, and for any other individuals she comes across who need her help, but she doesn't care so much about broader causes or ideals. her arc is really unique because it's an inverse leadership arc, i.e. she starts off in a leadership position but then as the story progresses, she realizes that she is not suited to leadership on the huge scale that's needed for the last battle and steps aside to let people like egwene and rand, who ARE suited to it, take up that leadership.

(if you will allow me a bit of #gawynposting, gawyn actually has a very similar arc in this respect: he starts off expecting to become first prince of the sword, but then when he gets his first real taste of large-scale leadership as the leader of the younglings, he's miserable. he doesn't care about the younglings' cause, he just wants to protect his specific loved ones, elayne & egwene, because at heart he is an Individuals Guy, not a Big Picture Guy. and so in the end he rejects his role as first prince and dedicates himself to protecting one specific person, egwene, as her warder. but the tragedy of his character is that even after all this he still can't shake the My Duty Is To The Big Picture conditioning that's been drilled into him since childhood, and thus focusing exclusively on protecting one single person during the last battle makes him feel selfish & guilty about "wasting" his fighting abilities and he decides it's his duty to sacrifice himself for the greater good. sob!)

anyway, i love this line because it's not true and also it's true. nynaeve IS a selfless servant of all, but egwene will be a better servant of all-all than nynaeve could be. because egwene is more able to set aside her personal feelings to focus objectively on what's best for the greatest number of people, whereas nynaeve just can't stomach the ruthless calculus of war (which, again, is not a knock on either character, they're simply different kinds of people and BOTH kinds are needed to win the last battle). and that's why it could only ever be egwene who got the amyrlin arc, even though you might initially expect it to go to nynaeve due to the setup of her being the most powerful aes sedai of the age.

#wot #wot on prime #the wheel of time #wot book spoilers #nynaeve al'meara #egwene al'vere #gawyn trakand #this particular Difference In Outlook is also part of what makes gawene so interesting & enjoyable to me esp their TGS/TOM conflicts #because this really is what's causing those conflicts at the root of it #egwene is focused on her big-picture duties and struggles to make room in them for a personal relationship #gawyn is focused on his personal relationship with egwene and struggles to make room in it for the big picture #but in the end they're able to help each other meet in the middle <3 #gawyn learns to understand the difference between egwene as his girlfriend & egwene as his amyrlin #and to modify his behavior with her to be appropriate for the respective situation #and egwene learns to allow herself work-life balance and to metaphorically take the stole off when in private with her partner #and to share her burdens with him and ask him for help with them

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sixth-light · 3 months

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Having a fascinating conversation with @markantonys and @butterflydm in notes about the Tower Coup (& how it will go in the show) and I need to take my thoughts to a post, in roughly this order:

How did it START in the books vs how did it END?

What changed along the way and where did that work/not work?

With the benefit of hindsight, how could the show make this arc more coherent?

How it started vs how it ended

The Tower Coup starts in the books as a pretty clear moral issue: Siuan is deposed on the sketchiest of pretenses, she and Leane are tortured and stilled immediately, a lot of people die, and Elaida dissolves the Blue Ajah (basically all our friendly Aes Sedai up until this point are Blue). That's a lot! Then the Tower faction, on Elaida's orders, also kidnap and torture Rand. By the time Egwene is raised as Amyrlin we're fully ready to get behind her taking names and kicking Elaida's ass. Elaida is doing nothing to help her own cause, instead descending into paranoia and tyranny with nobody at the Tower doing anything to stop her.

And then...from ACoS on it becomes clear that there's plenty of Tower Aes Sedai who are good people (the Black Ajah Hunter plotline), and also that the Black Ajah and the Forsaken are working both sides of the conflict to keep it as amped up as possible. However, at the same time the Tower is collapsing into conflict, the Salidar camp under Egwene is rewriting the rules in a way that the books make clear offer the Aes Sedai as an institution new relevance and scope, by opening the novice book to all who wish to apply. Meanwhile, the Seanchan return and the seams of the Pattern start to fray because the Last Battle is getting real close now. By the time Egwene is kidnapped by the Tower, her mission becomes to negotiate the Tower Aes Sedai as a group (rather than Elaida, who is too far gone) into dealing with the real existential problems the Tower faces - the Seanchan and Tarmon Gai'don - rather than 'winning'. Once we hit the Sanderson books we're fully into 'the Tower is fine, it just needed to have the right person leading it', Gawyn's storyline is revealed (charitable) or mildly retconned (uncharitable) so that the Warders attacked first and he and the other Younglings were arguably justified in fighting them, and Egwene ends up demanding that the Salidar Aes Sedai apologise for their rebellion before the Tower is reunited under her.

Was this a change of direction? How well did it work?

I would argue that in general scope the Tower arc was always meant to end with a reconciliation between the two sides in order to face down the real enemy - Elaida literally Foretells this very early on in the piece, and it's signalled frequently that besieging Tar Valon with an army, even if it feels like the only option, is playing into the hands of the Shadow and supported by Darkfriends within the Salidar camp. There's also a strong theme throughout the final RJ books of our heroes having to make their peace with people they are fighting in order to effectively confront the Shadow. E.g., Perrin is rewarded for his truce with the Seanchan by getting Faile back. So I'm pretty sure the plan was always for Egwene to reunite the Tower by winning the respect and allegiance of crucial people within the Tower faction, rather than military action, and for the conflict between the two sides to be decisively derailed by a Seanchan attack.

HOWEVER.

I also feel pretty strongly that the way that arc finally ends feels like a weird and hard swerve towards 'rebelling was wrong actually' and ignores the extremely real grievances that caused the Blue Ajah and their allies to gather in Salidar in the first place. Despite the Ajah Heads' plotting there is never any viable path to negotiation presented to the Salidar faction - yes, some of this is down to the work of the Black Ajah but like. Tarna Feir wasn't Black! Elaida wasn't Black! None of the non-Red Ajah Heads were Black! The Tower as an institution is pretty fundamentally broken and instead of a renewal and a vision of what it could look like in the future, what we get in the last two books is kind of...a return to BAU except Egwene is in charge now...? and also we stop checking in with all the Aes Sedai we know in favour of charity namedrops, yes I'm still mad forever thanks. I think some of this is exacerbated by Sanderson but I do also think it's the result of RJ having a pretty sketchy idea of how the post-unification Tower was going to look or act except knowing there were crucial plot points to hit in terms of the conflict being derailed by the Seanchan attacking the Tower, and Egwene and Rand clashing before the Last Battle.

In addition, for me personally, Elaida in TGS is also almost a parody of her original self - she's a sexual harasser, she's physically violent - in a way that sure you can write off as the influence of Padan Fain but feels cartoonish. I think this is somewhat of a minority opinion but this makes Egwene's whole Reason You Suck speech very unsatisfying to me! None of it engages with why Elaida was able to become Amyrlin in the first place. It's not a tragedy, it's a farce.

Anyway, it's all a bit unsatisfying and the big question I have is...

How could the show do it better?

The show 100% has the benefit of hindsight and being able to simplify down its story instead of try and tie up ALL the dangling threads - it can just not weave those threads in to start with! - so I think it has huge potential to make this arc more elegant plot-wise and emotionally. For me there's three key ways it could do this:

Make Elaida a charismatic leader (to start with) Largely due to the books/RJ wanting the coup to come as a shock, we have very little insight into how Elaida persuades the Hall to take down Siuan and we never see Elaida as a genuinely charismatic leader people might want to follow. Coming after Siuan, sure - why choose her as leader? If the show can demonstrate why people follow her, it will make the Tower faction seem more reasonable to start with. And there's endless material to mine from the books in terms of her slide into tyranny as a more subtle and tragic arc.

Give the Salidar Aes Sedai a genuine chance to back down I don't think it's bad for readers' expectations to be challenged, but through the books it's really hard to see what other genuine options the Salidar Aes Sedai but particularly the Blue Ajah actually had. Elaida never resiles on her proclamation disbanding them; that's cataclysmically bad given how the structure of the Tower traditionally works. Frankly it should have made a lot more Tower Aes Sedai (and independents) turn against her! For the Salidar Aes Sedai to have any genuine apology to make at the end, they need to have a choice to reunite that they could take...and not take it. I think it's obvious in her later appearances that Tarna Feir was meant to be a 'Worst Person You Know Has A Point' character but that's left on the table for a loooooooooooong time through the Slog.

Show how the Tower has changed for the better Egwene's demand is part and parcel of her fairly sudden change into an Amyrlin who is basically happy with the Tower running as it always has, but with her and her people in charge now. Let's see how the post-reunification Tower is a genuinely different place which has learned from its experiences! Let's see how the influx of novices and new organisational systems, as well as the new engagement with the Windfinders and Wise Ones, are requiring Aes Sedai to contemplate new ways of doing things! Let's see Egwene leave a goddamn legacy that will outlive her. Going out in a blaze of glory is all well and good but that's what makes the Tower Coup arc have meaning. The Tower broke but wasn't defeated.

Anyway, that's enough brain-dumping - interested in what other people have to say about this!

#wheel of time #wot book spoilers #wot tv show #aes sedai #meta #egwene al'vere #elaida do avriny a'roihan

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