#dixie II+

[thesaurus]

// would love to know why the You Stupid Bitch video wouldn't upload to my blog for 2 days in a row lol

// lovers to You Stupid Bitch to serotonin had be absolutely SCREAMING

// her new stuff I... love less but the show was still v fun

[perfettamentechic]

23 agosto … ricordiamo …

23 agosto … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2022: Gino Cogliandro, Luigi Cogliandro, comico, attore e cabarettista italiano. Napoletano, fu uno dei componenti del trio comico Trettré e partecipò a molti programmi televisivi oltre che recitare in diversi film commedia. (n.1949) 2020: Lori Nelson, pseudonimo di Dixie Kay Nelson, attrice statunitense attiva in cinema e televisione. Nelson frequentò Tab Hunter. Sposò prima il compositore…

[janmisali]

At the start of her new video (VG Myths - Can You Beat Donkey Kong Country Without Bananas?) Gamechamp3000 claims that Donkey Kong Country is the thirteenth game in the Donkey Kong series. As the "how many Mario games are there" guy, can you explain the joke as to what the other 12 might be?

pretty straightforward:

Donkey Kong (arcade)

Donkey Kong II

Donkey Kong 3

Donkey Kong Jr. Math

Donkey Kong (Game Boy)

Donkey Kong Country

Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy's Kong Quest

Donkey Kong Country 3: Dixie Kong's Double Trouble!

Donkey Kong 64

Donkey Kong Jungle Beat

Donkey Kong Country Returns

Donkey Kong Country: Tropical Freeze

Donkey Kong Bananza

[lilhawkeye3]

A Crash Course to the BeyoncéBowl Performance, from a Black Woman

Note: this is NOT an in-depth deep dive into her recent albums or the songs specifically. I highly recommend you listen/read the lyrics on your own time and conduct your own research! This is just to get you thinking.

So now that we live in a post-Kendrick Super Bowl society, I wanted to revisit Beyoncé's halftime performance during the Christmas Day NFL bowl game, aka BeyoncéBowl. While this did have less viewers live (it was on Netflix, it was Christmas, it was not the Super Bowl), I think her performance still had some very important takeaways, even if they were more subtle in comparison to Kendrick.

Let's discuss, starting with...

COWBOY CARTER -- yes, the name of Beyoncé's ACT II album, but also displayed prominently on her sash and on a banner as she rides into the stadium. In western US history, cowboy had racist connotations. After the Civil War, approximately 25% of cattle workers in the Wild West were Black... and a lot of people weren't happy about that. White cattle workers were cowhands. The Black men in their same roles were cowboys.

This is a demeaning practice that still exists today. Black men are often called "boys" to take away from their legitimacy. The reverse is true as well: Black boys are elevated to "men" to signify that they are a threat.

THE COWBOY -- we see this in the very first visual. Beyoncéis Cowboy Carter of course, riding in on her white horse, but she is accompanied by a Black cowboy guiding her horse. The imagery is accompanied by a fleet of lowriders (cars with hydraulics to make them bounce, it's really cool) as Beyoncé rides through them. Considering that we see this same Black cowboy later driving her in a car in the stadium set, I think it's fair to see the parallel here-- here, she shows, are our modern city cowboys. This does not mean we have lost our western cowboy roots however, as we then see our modern Texas cowboys standing on top of their horses. This is a high-level skill.

BLACKBIIRD -- (COWBOY CARTER is entitled ACT II. Most songs include II in their title, I didn't misspell it.) Beyoncé is joined by four rising artists: Tanner Adell, Brittney Spencer, Tiera Kennedy, and Rayna Roberts. She walks in line with them as they sing about "learning to fly" -- she sees them as equal to her, not competition to pull down. They're spreading their wings. I will call out Tanner Adell in particular as she is a rising country music star (if you've seen Twisters, you may recognize her music) but in one of her songs "Buckle Bunny", she mentions "looking like Beyoncé with a lasso". She's come full circle!

YAYA -- Her license plate is BNCNTRY (been country). When Beyonce first broke into the industry, she was belittled by being called "too country" as from Houston. When she finally made a country song and performed with the then-named Dixie Chicks at the Country Music Awards with a Black band... white people were not happy. This is the same CMA community that recognized Billy Ray Cyrus for the success of "Old Town Road" instead of the main artist and creator LilNasX, because LilNasX is Black.

The story of YAYA is that music transcends genre and should not be limited by these pigeonholes people try to force artists into. Keep that in mind.

My family lived and died in America / Good old USA / Whole lot of red in that white and blue / History can't be erased

HBCU BAND -- this is a staple of many of Beyoncé's public performances (see her Coachella performance, Coldplay's Super Bowl halftime show). Texas Southern's Marching Band joins Beyoncé on the field for this event. If you are new to the term, HBCUs are historically Black colleges & universities. This is in contrast to PWIs, or predominantly white institutes. Beyoncé performs "MY HOUSE" for the first time alongside them and her daughter Blue.

SHABOOZEY -- Another rising artist in country, Shaboozey has also faced backlash for being a Black man with one of the most successful country songs of 2024, "A Bar Song (Tipsy)". As he sings: Still going up like a ladder / I'm still in the field.

LEVII'S JEANS -- It's important to note Levi's was one of the early supporters of Destiny's Child. Jeans have also always been a symbol of the working class, and including Post Malone on this song (IMO) shows crossing that bridge: the white working class and white country have more in common with the Black community than not. Like Kendrick said, the culture war is to distract from class warfare. (I understand Post Malone is rich now, but this was my takeaway.)

JOLENE -- Dolly Parton is the queen of country and she gave her blessing on this song to the point of introducing it on the album. Hers is the only opinion that maters. That other white artists and audiences have voiced issues with Beyoncé doing this song is telling.

NRG STADIUM -- a brief interlude here to say that NRG Stadium in Houston, Texas, is home to the NFL team the Houston Texans (yes really lol) but also is home to the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. I was there during last year's rodeo, and this was right when the next song I'll talk about released... y'all, when I tell you Black people showed up just for the vibes? It was so fun. The stadium also half-emptied after Beyoncé's halftime performance ended, so the city really showed up for her.

TEXAS HOLD 'EM -- Let's line dance y'all! Texas Hold 'Em is an unapologetic country anthem and shows the range: the same dancers that hip-hop and twerking for earlier songs now rallies together to line dance. Country music was created by Black people, and we haven't forgotten. The album crossed a number of genres and showed how country is related to, inspired by, and built off of other genres just like many genres built up by Black musicians are.

You don't have to like COWBOY CARTER, you don't have to like country music, you don't even have to like Beyoncé. But her ACT II takes a lyrical and musical path through Black musical history and her own personal history to create a work of art. Her style is not the same as Kendrick's nor should it be, but her NFL halftime performance was still an act of resistance and celebration of our culture.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk, and this has been another Tea Time with Hawk. ☕🦅

[andreablog2]

Jennifer Lopez, Chris Olsen, Sukihana, Lana Del Rey, Elizabeth Olsen, Mary Kate Olsen, Drake, awkwafina, Alex consani, Luigi Magione, Pete Butttigieg, Jackie Aina, Onijah Robinson, Chris Marco, Chloe Sevignys husband, Angelyne, SIA, jojo siwa, Rupaul, Robyn, Bethany Frankel, Vinnie Hacker, SZA, Beyoncé, Fiona Apple, Katy Perry, Viola Davis, Sandra Oh, Regina King, Joseline Hernandez, Roy Cohn, Donald Trump, Bowen Yang, Clairo, Gweneth Paltrow, Charli xcx, Ashanti, Marylin Monroe, Stevie Wonder, Octavia Spencer, Charles Gross, Donna Summer, Sutton Stracke, Stunna girl, Alice Coltrane, Summer Walker, Matthew Mcconaughe, Ciara, Fantasia, Paula Abdul, Nick Cannon, Winona Rider, Greta Gerwig, George Lopez, Nancy Pelosi, Mariah Carey, Jillian Anderson, JK Rowling, Frida Kahlo, Caitlyn Jenner, Elvis Presley, Ronald Reagan, Ja Rule, Kelela, America Ferreira, Marina and the Diamonds, Cate Blanchet, John Waters, Vera Farminga, Pedro Almodovar, Common, Teena Marie, Jack Ma, Tracee Ellis Ross, AOC, Uma Thurman, Jack Antonoff, Ellen Degenerous, John F Kennedy, Asian Doll, Tom Hardy, Rooney Mara, The rock, Helen Keller, Addison Rae, Ben Shapiro, Robin Williams, Azealia Banks, Diego Rivera, Teyana Taylor, Andy Warhol, Nia Long, Lil Uzi Vert, Isabelle Huppert, Q-Tip, H.E.R., Takashi Murakami, Lisa Bonet, Salman Rushdie, Normani, Dev Patel, FKA Twigs, Yoko Ono, Burna Boy, Divine, Anitta, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Thandiwe Newton, Lil Kim, Pedro Pascal, Björk, Riz Ahmed, Erykah Badu, Yayoi Kusama, Saweetie, Gael García Bernal, Patti Smith, Tierra Whack, Javier Bardem, Grace Jones, Ai Weiwei, Tinashe, Zadie Smith, Ramy Youssef, Mitski, Wong Kar-wai, Keke Palmer, Salman Khan, Kim Petras, Leos Carax, Raven-Symoné, Spike Lee, Arca, Omari Hardwick, Cindy Sherman, Davido, Hari Nef, Bootsy Collins, Amandla Stenberg, Abbas Kiarostami, Tems, John Galliano, Rico Nasty, Bong Joon-ho, Meek Mill, Laverne Cox, Jeff Koons, Coco Jones, Park Chan-wook, Garcelle Beauvais, Kid Cudi, Zaha Hadid, T-Pain, Adwoa Aboah, Werner Herzog, Jazmine Sullivan, Takashi Yamazaki, Latto, Moonlight Bae, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Neneh Cherry, Daniel Kaluuya, Anohni, Shygirl, Zhang Yimou, Yara Shahidi, Skepta, Lorna Simpson, Sampha, Isabelle Adjani, Stormzy, Kara Walker Malcolm X, Solange Knowles, Frida Kahlo, Ayo Edebiri, Nelson Mandela, Rosalía, Cleopatra, Jungkook, Sojourner Truth, Dev Hynes, Harriet Tubman, Bad Gyal, Leonardo da Vinci, Janhvi Kapoor, Angela Davis, Rema, Joan of Arc, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Che Guevara, Kali Uchis, Queen Nzinga, Tim Burton, Empress Wu Zetian, Burna Boy, Marcus Garvey, Jodie Comer, Sitting Bull, Tyla, Zora Neale Hurston, Shah Rukh Khan, Toussaint Louverture, Amaarae, Audre Lorde, Hirokazu Kore-eda, Indira Gandhi, Syd, Frederick Douglass, Hunter Schafer, Hatshepsut, Shaboozey, Langston Hughes, Ncuti Gatwa, Nefertiti, Smino, Rani Mukerji, Steve Biko, Victoria Monét, Mansa Musa, Jaden Smith, Ida B. Wells, Wong Fei-hung, PinkPantheress, Salvador Dalí, Laetitia Casta, Haile Selassie, Young Thug, Marie Curie, Deepika Padukone, Nat Turner, Arlo Parks, Shaka Zulu, Lupita Nyong’o, Hypatia, Gunna, Soji Okita, Nia DaCosta, Septimius Severus, Angelique Kidjo, Crazy Horse, Adèle Exarchopoulos, Ramesses II, Snoh Aalegra, W.E.B. Du Bois, Barry Jenkins, Sacagawea, King Sunny Adé, Maximilien Robespierre, Coco Gauff, Ashoka the Great, Mustafa, Susan B. Anthony, Asake, Simón Bolívar, Dreezy, Khufu, Tierra Whack, Billie Holiday, Blitz Bazawule, Catherine the Great, BIA, Tycho Brahe, Jamila Woods, Geronimo, Ayra Starr, Mary Seacole. Noname, Mohsen Makhmalbaf, Moses Sumney, Vivienne Westwood, Rina Sawayama, Jafar Panahi, Oumou Sangaré, LaKeith Stanfield, Nan Goldin, Kelechi Okafor, Asghar Farhadi, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Busta Rhymes, Tetsuya Nomura, Mindy Kahling, Barrack Obama, Pamela Anderson, Tana Mongeau, Marcus Garvey, Jake Paul, Billie Holiday, Blac Chyna, Cleopatra, Charli D’Amelio, Mahatma Gandhi, Scott Disick, Angela Davis, Loren Gray, Rosa Parks, Trisha Paytas, Dixie D’Amelio, Shaka Zulu, Hannah Montana , James Charles, Bhad Bhabie, Zara Larsson, Joan of Arc,

, David Dobrik, Langston Hughes, Khloé Kardashian, Noah Centineo, Zora Neale Hurston, Nikita Dragun, Ramesses II, Sommer Ray, Josephine Baker, Lil Pump, Empress Cixi, Madison Beer, Malcolm X, Rebecca Black, Sitting Bull, Olivia Jade, Thurgood Marshall, Tekashi 6ix9ine, Mary Wollstonecraft, Amber Rose, Che Guevara, JoJo Siwa, Akbar the Great, Jennifer Lopez, Chris Olsen, Sukihana, Lana Del Rey, Elizabeth Olsen, Mary Kate Olsen, Drake, awkwafina, Alex consani, Luigi Magione, Pete Butttigieg, Jackie Aina, Onijah Robinson, Chris Marco, Chloe Sevignys husband, Angelyne, SIA, jojo siwa, Rupaul, Robyn, Bethany Frankel, Vinnie Hacker, SZA, Beyoncé, Fiona Apple, Katy Perry, Viola Davis, Sandra Oh, Regina King, Joseline Hernandez, Roy Cohn, Donald Trump, Bowen Yang, Clairo, Gweneth Paltrow, Charli xcx, Ashanti, Marylin Monroe, Stevie Wonder, Octavia Spencer, Charles Gross, Donna Summer, Sutton Stracke, Stunna girl, Alice Coltrane, Summer Walker, Matthew Mcconaughe, Ciara, Fantasia, Paula Abdul, Nick Cannon, Winona Rider, Greta Gerwig, George Lopez, Nancy Pelosi, Mariah Carey, Jillian Anderson, JK Rowling, Frida Kahlo, Caitlyn Jenner, Elvis Presley, Ronald Reagan, Ja Rule, Kelela, America Ferreira, Marina and the Diamonds, Cate Blanchet, John Waters, Vera Farminga, Pedro Almodovar, Common, Teena Marie, Jack Ma, Tracee Ellis Ross, AOC, Uma Thurman, Jack Antonoff, Ellen Degenerous, John F Kennedy, Asian Doll, Tom Hardy, Rooney Mara, The rock, Helen Keller, Addison Rae, Ben Shapiro, Robin Williams, Azealia Banks, Diego Rivera, Teyana Taylor, Andy Warhol, Nia Long, Lil Uzi Vert, Isabelle Huppert, Q-Tip, H.E.R., Takashi Murakami, Lisa Bonet, Salman Rushdie, Normani, Dev Patel, FKA Twigs, Yoko Ono, Burna Boy, Divine, Anitta, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Thandiwe Newton, Lil Kim, Pedro Pascal, Björk, Riz Ahmed, Erykah Badu, Yayoi Kusama, Saweetie, Gael García Bernal, Patti Smith, Tierra Whack, Javier Bardem, Grace Jones, Ai Weiwei, Tinashe, Zadie Smith, Ramy Youssef, Mitski, Wong Kar-wai, Keke Palmer, Salman Khan, Kim Petras, Leos Carax, Raven-Symoné, Spike Lee, Arca, Omari Hardwick, Cindy Sherman, Davido, Hari Nef, Bootsy Collins, Amandla Stenberg, Abbas Kiarostami, Tems, John Galliano, Rico Nasty, Bong Joon-ho, Meek Mill, Laverne Cox, Jeff Koons, Coco Jones, Park Chan-wook, Garcelle Beauvais, Kid Cudi, Zaha Hadid, T-Pain, Adwoa Aboah, Werner Herzog, Jazmine Sullivan, Takashi Yamazaki, Latto, Moonlight Bae, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Neneh Cherry, Daniel Kaluuya, Anohni, Shygirl, Zhang Yimou, Yara Shahidi, Skepta, Lorna Simpson, Sampha, Isabelle Adjani, Stormzy, Kara Walker Malcolm X, Solange Knowles, Frida Kahlo, Ayo Edebiri, Nelson Mandela, Rosalía, Cleopatra, Jungkook, Sojourner Truth, Dev Hynes, Harriet Tubman, Bad Gyal, Leonardo da Vinci, Janhvi Kapoor, Angela Davis, Rema, Joan of Arc, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Che Guevara, Kali Uchis, Queen Nzinga, Tim Burton, Empress Wu Zetian, Burna Boy, Marcus Garvey, Jodie Comer, Sitting Bull, Tyla, Zora Neale Hurston, Shah Rukh Khan, Toussaint Louverture, Amaarae, Audre Lorde, Hirokazu Kore-eda, Indira Gandhi, Syd, Frederick Douglass, Hunter Schafer, Hatshepsut, Shaboozey, Langston Hughes, Ncuti Gatwa, Nefertiti, Smino, Rani Mukerji, Steve Biko, Victoria Monét, Mansa Musa, Jaden Smith, Ida B. Wells, Wong Fei-hung, PinkPantheress, Salvador Dalí, Laetitia Casta, Haile Selassie, Young Thug, Marie Curie, Deepika Padukone, Nat Turner, Arlo Parks, Shaka Zulu, Lupita Nyong’o, Hypatia, Gunna, Soji Okita, Nia DaCosta, Septimius Severus, Angelique Kidjo, Crazy Horse, Adèle Exarchopoulos, Ramesses, Susan B. Anthony, Logan Paul, Billie Holiday, Lisa Vanderpump, Túpac Amaru II, Ice Spice, Nat Turner, Stassie Karanikolaou, Hypatia, Yung Miami, Marcus Rashford, Farrah Abraham, Indira Gandhi, Bella Poarch, Ella Fitzgerald, Ryan Seacrest, Teyana Taylor, Queen Victoria, Mikey Madison, Sundiata Keita, Lil Tay, Pablo Neruda, Erika Jayne, Ashoka the Great, Quen Blackwell, Clara Barton, Doechii, Genghis Khan, Paige DeSorbo, Marie Antoinette, Central Cee, Simone de Beauvoir, Chantel Jeffries, Bessie Coleman, JT, Emperor Meiji

[kckt88]

Don't Mess With My Mind II

Summary:

Aemond and Y/N continue their secret affair and Aegon discovers that his girlfriend is pregnant.

Features an Aemond POV.

Warning(s): Angst, Language, Hurt, Comfort, Alcohol Consumption, Mean Of Cheating, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), Unprotected P in V Sex, Confrontation, Violence.

Word Count: 3174

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

MODERN AU - AEMOND x Y/N - AEGON x Y/N

Inspired by the song: EMO - Don't Mess With My Mind.

Tag List: @immyowndefender, @zenka69, @iloveallmyboys, @summerposie, @namelesslosers, @dixie-elocin, @aemondsfavouritebastard, @toodlesxcuddles, @ammo23

Aemond remembered the first time Aegon brought Y/N back to their flat, she was such a timid little thing, almost like a mouse, not his brothers usual type at all.

But there was something about the way her eyes would light up when she smiled or the way she would bite her lower lip whenever she was reading.

It drove Aemond to distraction, never had he been so enamoured with anyone, not even his older ex who admittedly sucked his cock like a pro.

There were times when he would catch her looking at him wistfully from across the room and he would always wonder what she was thinking in that exact moment.

One day he caught her coming out of the shower with nothing, but a towel wrapped around her body and his cock responded in earnest.

That was the night he brought some big titted bimbo back to the flat, he closed his eye as he fucked her from behind, imagining that it was Y/N who was screaming his name and coming on his cock.

Another night he brought home some demure brown haired whisp of a woman, who he fucked into the mattress, his face pressed into her neck envisioning Y/N as he spilled into the condom.

The red head he brought home, now she was a freak. Never had any woman asked him to do anal on their first go but he was more than happy to oblige, he even invited her back for another go, but she began to get a bit clingy afterwards and he had to bin her off before she got worse.

He even resorted to seeing Alys again in between his slut phase, he would go to her flat and listen to her harp on about stuff he really didn’t give two shits about, then he would bend her over whatever surface was the closet and fuck her hard.

But nothing compared to Y/N.

Some nights he would hear Aegon fucking her, his brothers groans of pleasure sickening him to his stomach as he never once heard any of hers.

A woman like that deserved to be worshipped, she was a kindred spirit that needed releasing from the prison of his brother’s lacklustre affection.

But as always Aegon fucked things up for himself. His drinking had always been a problem and he’d ended up cheating on Y/N with her best friend no less.

Maybe he shouldn’t have propositioned her the way he did, as she was upset about Aegon, but he just couldn’t help himself.

As upset as she was Y/N clearly had a little vindictive streak in her as she readily agreed to go to bed with him.

He was going to make good on his promise and fuck her so hard that forgot Aegon’s name.

All his Christmases had clearly come at once as the feeling of Y/N’s lips on his was better than anything he’d ever imagined, the noises she made when he devoured her pussy like a starving man would linger with him for the rest of his days.

He loved eating pussy, something his previous partners were ever grateful for, but nothing compared to Y/N’s she was delicious in a way he’d never tasted before.

Even the feel of her tight, wet heat wrapped around his cock was everything he’d ever dreamt of, he never wanted to be anywhere else, and, in all honesty, he had never come so hard in his life, rope and after rope of his seed, coated her insides and the sight of it dripping from her drove him feral with need.

Even after she had left his flat, her lavender scent still lingered on his sheets, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

So, after he finished work the next day he went to her flat and threw her legs over his shoulders and devoured her sweet pussy until she was screaming his name.

After that it became a regular thing between them, she still hadn’t officially ended her relationship with his brother, but it didn’t matter. It was more fun this way.

They would usually met up at her flat, she lived alone, so it was easier to fuck her over every available surface and not worry about anyone walking in on them.

He would on occasion bring her back to his flat, careful of course to avoid Aegon, the idiot hadn’t realised that she’d caught him with Sara, and he would often complain that Y/N wasn’t responding to his calls or texts.

It gave Aemond a sick twisted sense of satisfaction after his brother would sit there lamenting his lost relationship only for Aemond to invite Y/N over and fuck her in the next room.

Once he had her pressed against his door with his cock deep inside her as his brother was on the other side complaining that he was making too much noise.

He even fucked Y/N in Aegon’s bed once, his drunken wastrel of a brother had finally got off his arse and gone out and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Initially Y/N had her reservations, but she soon caved in when he slowly fingered her and then bent her over the desk and fucked her raw.

It was filthy, it was depraved and Aemond was living for it.

He would sometimes take her out on dates, something his cunt of a brother never did, and he would delight in teasing her pussy with his fingers as they sat waiting for their food in whatever restaurant they were in.

Of course his little mouse would get her own back and once when they went to the cinema she leaned over him and slowly sucked his cock, teasing him with her tongue to the point of madness before she allowed him to come in her mouth.

One time he even dared to surprise her at work when she was on a break, and he took her against the wall of the smoking shelter.

He delighted in the noises she made as she came around his cock, and the way she would slid her fingers into his hair and pull as she rode out her high.

The thrill of getting caught was intoxicating and it only made Aemond want her more.

The day he realised that he was completely in love with her was when they were laid naked with one another, their sweaty limbs entwined as she leaned over and pressed a series of gentle kisses to the scarred side of his face.

She called him beautiful, and she made him feel special. No woman had ever spoke to him in such a manner, and it warmed his heart beyond all comprehension.

Y/N was the silver lining on the dark cloud he called his life and he never wanted to be without her.

Ever since she had took that test Y/N was on pins, she knew that she had to tell Aemond, he had a right to know, but she was scared of how he would react.

They hadn’t talked for any length of time about a possible relationship and now she was pregnant with his baby.

Of course, there was also Aegon to deal with and that in itself was enough to give her a headache, and she really didn’t want to deal with him in that moment.

What she needed to do was get her head around the fact that she was pregnant and then after she’d summoned the courage, she would need to tell Aemond.

She didn’t see Aemond for a week, as they were both busy at work, so that gave Y/N the time to think.

One night she found herself eating a tub of pringles with her had pressed against her still flat stomach and she smiled at the thought that a piece of her and Aemond was growing inside her.

She wondered who the baby would look like, would he or she have her features or would they take after Aemond, which in truth Y/N didn’t mind at all.

After all, Aemond was a gorgeous man, his sharp features and piercing blue eye were surely a gift from the gods and a blessing to pass onto their child-boy or girl.

Sure enough, the week was over and after changing her outfit three times, Y/N was walking to Aemond’s.

She placed in her earphones and turned up the volume as Elvis Presley – I can’t help falling in love with you came on.

Most people had sneered at her music choices, but there was just something serene about the way Elvis sang. She couldn’t help but listen to him especially when she felt anxious.

Obviously, the current song choice was a bit on the nose, but it couldn’t have been more appropriate in that moment, because she couldn’t help but fall in love with Aemond and she hoped he felt the same way.

Eventually, Y/N found herself outside Aemond’s flat and after turning off her music and stowing her headphones on her pocket she took a deep breath as she knocked on the door. After a few minutes the door opened and Aemond stood there in a loose fitted white t-shirt and those damn sweatpants that made his cock look-

“-Is everything ok?” asked Aemond as he motioned for her to come in.

“I-I need to tell you something” replied Y/N as she sat on the sofa.

“What’s wrong?” mused Aemond as he sat in the armchair across from her.

“I’m pregnant” said Y/N.

“Huh” muttered Aemond, his mouth hanging open.

“I’m pregnant-and you’re the father”.

Aemond went rigid in his seat and stared unblinking at Y.N. He didn’t move as he mulled over what Y.N had just told him.

“A-Aemond-are you ok? Do you need some water?” asked Y/N concerned.

“N-No I’m good” replied Aemond clearing his throat.

“I would say it’s a bit of a shock, but we weren’t exactly diligent with the condoms”.

Aemond nodded his head in agreement, he could probably count on one hand the amount of times they did actually use protection. Most of their encounters usually ended up with him fucking her raw. Seeing her sweet cunt filled to the brim with his seed drove him feral, even thinking about it now he could feel his cock stirring.

“What do you plan to do?” asked Aemond.

“I’ve thought about it, and I know were young, but I want to keep the baby, you can be involved as much as you like-or if you don’t I understand” muttered Y/N.

“Of course, I want to be involved, yes I agree that were young, but I won’t turn my back on my child, I will be there for you every step of the way” urged Aemond.

“Y-You will?” gasped Y/N her eyes filling with tears.

“Just try and stop me” said Aemond smiling.

“I know a baby is huge responsibility but-“ said Y.N.

“-Your pregnant”

Y/N shot up from the sofa as she spotted Aegon standing in the doorway.

“Yes” replied Y/N as she glanced at Aemond who had also risen from his seat.

“Are you keeping it?”

“Yes, I am” said Y/N frowning.

“I guess it is the reason why you’ve been ghosting me for the last few weeks?” mused Aegon.

“The baby isn’t an it, Aegon” groused Y/N.

“What else am I supposed to call it-you do realise that I’m not ready to be a father, besides you always insisted that I wear condom so how are you pregnant?” asked Aegon.

Y.N took a deep breath to steady her nerves, it was now or never.

“Aegon-your not the father” said Y/N firmly.

“If I’m not the father-you’ve been screwing around behind my back?” snarled Aegon.

“Like you can take the moral high ground, especially after I walked in on you fucking my so called best friend” quipped Y/N.

“Y-You saw that?” muttered Aegon,

“Yes, I did, so don’t you dare make me out to be the bad guy” snapped Y/N

“I-It was a mistake, a onetime thing, I was drunk-please Y/N” begged Aegon.

“Typical Aegon, there’s always an excuse, you never accept responsibility for any of the shit things you do and I’m sick of it”.

“Y/N” gasped Aegon.

“No, we’re done” replied Y/N shaking her head.

Aegon bowed his head for a moment, almost as he was ashamed but then he glared at her and bared his teeth like a wild animal.

“Who’s the father?” asked Aegon.

“Does it matter?” muttered Y/N.

“Yes, it does.  NOW FUCKING TELL ME” balled Aegon as he seized Y/N by the arms and began shaking her.

“Aegon, let her go” urged Aemond as he inserted himself between his brother and Y/N and pushed him away.

“No, she’s fucked around behind my back and got pregnant, I want to know who’s bastard she carries” retorted Aegon as he went for Y/N again only to be blocked by Aemond.

“I’m the father” admitted Aemond.

There was an awkward moment of silence before Aegon went ballistic.

“YOU” shouted Aegon.

“Yes” replied Aemond.

“How long-HOW FUCKING LONG?”

“Since the night I saw you with Sara” admitted Y/N.

“Oh, so what, this was some type of revenge for me screwing your slag of a mate”.

“The first time was, but then-“

“-Then what?” demanded Aegon.

“I fell in love with him” whispered Y/N.

“Y-You love me?” asked Aemond, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Yes, I do” said Y/N smiling.

“I love you too” replied Aemond as he rested his forehead against Y/N’s.

“Wait a minute-All those times I heard you fucking someone in your room, it was her”.

“Yes” replied Aemond.

“Is this about Floris?” asked Aegon rounding on Aemond.

“You seriously think that I would stoop so low?”

“W-Who’s that?” asked Y/N.

“Oh, what’s this-don’t tell me she doesn’t know about your Baratheon bitch” snarked Aegon.

“Floris was my girlfriend, until I found her in bed with my brother”.

“You just can’t help yourself can you-sticking your cock where it doesn’t belong?” shrieked Y/N as she jabbed Aegon in the chest.

“She came onto me, obviously bored with his limp dick and mangled face” snarled Aegon as he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a half empty bottle of vodka.

“What did you just say?” questioned Aemond.

“I said-limp dick with a mangled face” snapped Aegon as he took a large swig of vodka.

“How can you be so cruel” exclaimed Y/N.

“It’s a gift” shrugged Aegon, once again raising the bottle to his lips.

“Say it again-go on, FUCKING SAY IT AGAIN” roared Aemond.

“Why-What you going to do you one eyed freak, you know Luke should have lowered his aim and slit your whiny cunt throat, done us all a favour” laughed Aegon.

“Aemond-NO” exclaimed Y/N as she was buffeted out of the way by Aemond who ripped the vodka bottle from Aegon’s hand and threw it across the room. The glass bottle exploded as it came into contact with the wall.

“You fucking frea-” shrieked Aegon reeling backwards as Aemond punched him in the face.

Aegon quickly rose from the ground and tackled his brother, both of them falling the floor with a heavy thud.

“You-fucking-cunt” breathed Aemond as one of Aegon’s punched connected with his nose.

“If anyone is the cunt here, its you” wheezed Aegon as Aemond managed to knee him in the stomach.

“Aemond-please, stop” urged Y/N desperately, however he couldn’t seem to hear her, too lost to his rage as he repeatedly punched every bit of Aegon he could reach.

Y/N reached forward and pulled on Aemond’s t-shirt, suddenly he reared backwards, and Y/N was propelled away from the fighting brothers, she slipped on the remnants of spilled vodka and collided with the floor, landing awkwardly on her stomach.

At the sound of Y/N hitting the floor, Aemond quickly came back to his senses, his eye widening at the sight of her laying haphazardly on her side with a hand on her stomach.

Aemond levered himself off Aegon and immediately went to Y/N, crouching slowly beside her.

“Y/N-are you ok?” asked Aemond nervously.

“T-The baby” whispered Y/N, her lip wobbling.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital” muttered Aemond as he wrapped his arms around Y/N and gently lifted her off the floor.

“Aemond I-“

“-Just to be on the safe side” said Aemond as he grabbed his car keys and guided Y/N out of the flat, completely ignoring Aegon was hunched over by the wall, his nose dripping with blood.

All the way to the hospital Y/N didn’t speak, even as they waited for the doctor to examine her, she remained silent.

Aemond felt terrible, he’d only just learned that Y.N was pregnant, what if his fight with Aegon had cost him his child, it made his insides twist uncomfortably at the thought.

The doctor eventually arrived and checked Y/N vitals and then she was sent for an internal scan.

Aemond held Y/N’s hand as the scan was performed, and he found himself praying to whoever was listening that their baby would be ok.

Aemond hadn’t prayed since he was a child, not since he lost his eye and had to suffer through multiple surgical procedures to correct the damage that his nephew had done. The last procedure was for his prosthetic eye and even that was an experience he wasn’t keen to repeat, he could still remember the feeling of the cold malleable substance that was poured into his empty socket.

Y/N squeezed his hand as a single tear ran down her cheek, and Aemond’s heart was on the cusp of breaking when the doctor finally gave them the news that their baby was fine.

Aemond let out a breath of relief and he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s hand as the doctor pointed towards the screen and showed them the tiny flickering heartbeat.

With orders to get some rest and stayed hydrated, Aemond took Y/N back to her flat, the printed picture of their baby safely ensconced in his wallet.

Still Y.N barely spoke as he helped her into bed and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He could feel his mobile vibrating in his pocket, no doubt Aegon had been on the phone to their mother and lied through his teeth, but that was a problem for later.

“Stay with me-please” whispered Y/N.

“Ok” replied Aemond as he placed his keys, wallet, and phone on the beside table and toed off his boots before slipping into bed.

“Hold me” pleaded Y/N, her voice so soft and delicate.

Aemond didn’t need asking twice, he wrapped his arm around Y.N and pulled her towards him, his nose buried in her hair.

“I love you Aemond-” whispered Y/N.

“-I love you too” replied Aemond.

“Do you need to get that?” asked Y/N as the sound of Aemond’s phone vibrating echoed around the room.

“It’s my mother-no doubt Aegon’s told her his version of what’s happened so she’s probably ringing to give me an earful”.

“I-If you don’t want to go back to your flat, you always stay here for a bit” suggested Y/N, her voice small but somewhat hopeful.

“I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me” exclaimed Aemond.

“Forever” whispered Y.N as she closed her eyes.

“Forever” repeated Aemond as he tightened his hold on Y.N and smiled softly.

His hand drifted towards her stomach and Aemond couldn't help but smile.

Their child was currently inside her, and he couldn't wait to see her stomach swell.

It was his seed that had taken root and bloomed into life and soon everyone would see, and they would all know that she belonged to him.

Just as she was always supposed too.

[album-tourney]

Round 1 match ups

Deny Defend Depose by Joe Devito - Todos Juntos by Los Jaivas

Union Maid by the Almanac Singers - Color in your Cheeks by the Mountain Goats

II: The road Giveth by RENT STRIKE - Two Headed Boy by Neutral Milk Hotel

For What It’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield - I'm not a good person by Pat the Bunny

I ain't Marching Anymore by Phil Ochs - Ballad of a Wobbly by David Rovics

Do you believe in magic by the lovin spoonful - Let the Mystery Be by Iris Demont

California Dreamin by the Mama's and the Papa's - I'm a Believer by The Monkees

Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen - A Song for a Computer Programmer by Cricket!

Blackbird by the Beatles - The Gambler by Kenny Rogers

Feed the Machine by Poor Man's Poison - Curses by the Crane Wives

Big Rock Candy Mountain by Harry McClintock - Pure Obsession by Mirabai Kukathas

Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls - I want wind to blow, the microphones

War isn't Murder by Jesse Welles - Delta Dawn by Tanya Tucker

Place to Be by Nick Drake - The Wrote and Writ by Johnny Flynn

Time in a Bottle By Jim Croce - Ohio by Neil Young

Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons - Space Girl by Shirley Collins

A Horse with No Name by America - Fuck it by Days N Daze

The Galway Girl by Sharon Shannon and Steve Earle - The Chain by Fleetwood Mac

Heave Away by the Fables - Stick Season by Noah Kahan

Rule #4 Fish in a Birdcage by Fish in a Birdcage - Your Heart is a Muscle the Size Of Your fist by Ramshackle Glory

War on the Workers by Anne Feeney - The Funeral by Band of Horses

Blister in the Sun by the Violent Femmes - Lyndon Johnson Told the Nation by Tom Paxton

Season of the Witch by Donovan - I’m against the government by Defiance, Ohio

Everybody's Talkin' by Harry Nilsson - Kill the Boy Band by She/Her/Hers

Me and my Bobby Mcgee by Janis Joplin - O Valencia by the Decemberists

Wayward Prodigal by Cora Reef - The War Racket by Buffy Sainte-Marie

The Times they are a changing by Bob Dylan - Miracle of Life by Bright eyes

At Seventeen by Janis Ian - Little Boxes by Malvina Reynolds

I am a Union Woman by Bobbie McGee - Electricity by Sister Wife Sex Strike

Annie's Song by John Denver - Roll On, Columbia, Roll On by the Highway Men

Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter Paul and Mary - Solidarity Forever by Utah Phillipps

I'm Gonna Be an Engineer by Peggy Seegar - Follow Me up to Carlow by the Young Dubliners

Take Me to Church By Hozier - 32 Flavors by Ani Difranco

Fast Car by Tracy Chapman - Murder in the City by the Avett Brother

Mrs. Robinson By Simon and Garfunkel - The Chemical Worker's Song by Great Big Sea

The Fox by Nickel Creek - Oak & Ash & Thorn by The Longest Johns

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald By Gordon Lightfoot - Strangers by Apes of the State

American Pie by Don McLean - Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash, And Young

Everything I own by Bread - Fire and Rain by James Taylor

The Trolley Problem by Windborne - Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

Where have all the flowers gone by Pete Seeger - Dream a Little Dream of Me by Cass Elliot

Glad to be Gay by Tom Robinson Band - The Battle of New Orleans by Johnny Horton

Vienna by Billy Joel - Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapman

One Kind of People by Amigo the Devil - Brave as a Noun by AJJ

Every Town will Celebrate by Mischief Brew - Wild World by Cat Stevens

Plastic Jesus by Tia Blake - Ho Hey by the Lumineers

Ballad of Ho Chi Min by Ewan MacColl - City of New Orleans by Arlo Guthrie

Loose Lips by Kimya Dawson - Excursion Around the Bay by Great Big Sea

Who would Jesus Bomb by Jordan Snart - Rhododendron Honey by Leslie Fish

Hungry Dog on the street by the Taxpayers - The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down by The Band

Mr. Tambourine Man by the Byrds - Nebraska by Bruce Springsteen

You're So Vain by Carly Simon - Ooh La La by the Faces

Budapest by George Ezra - Paradise by John Prine

Tear the Facists Down by Woody Guthrie - House of the Rising Sun by the Animals

One Great City by the Weakerathans - Diamonds and Rust by Joan Baez

Bread and Roses by Judy Collins - Angel From Montgomery by Bonnie Raitt

March of the Jobless Corps by Daniel Kahn - There is Power in a Union by Billy Bragg

What a time to be alive by Matt Press - Rhinestone Cowboy by Glen Campbell

Sixteen Tons by Tennessee Ernie Ford - All The Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands by Sufjan Stevens?

Not Yet/Love Run by the Amazing Devil - Ain't No Sunshine by Bill Withers

Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega - It's too Late by Carole King

Hurt by Johnny Cash - Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell

Jolene by Dolly Parton - Have you ever seen the rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival

I'd work for Free by Blake Rouse - You're Dead by Norma Tanega

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The Emmaus Road: a Chiasm in Luke

* * * *

The Road to Emmaus BY SPENCER REECE For Nathan Gebert

The chair from Goodwill smelled of mildew. I sat with Sister Ann, a Franciscan. In her small office, at the Cenacle Retreat House, right off Dixie Highway in Lantana, Florida, I began my story— it was an interview, much of life is an interview. She said I did not need to pay her, but donations, yes, donations were appreciated: they could be left anonymously in a plain white envelope that she could take back to the cloister. She was dressed in a turtleneck and a denim jumper. She could have been mistaken in a grocery store for an aging housewife. My meetings with her went on for a few years. I had come to speak about Durell. I did not know how to end sentences about Durell. He had taught me—what? To live? Not to wince in the mirror? What? There were so many ways to end my sentence. He was an unlikely candidate for so many things. Outside, it was always some subtle variation of summer. I paused, then spoke urgently, not wanting to forget some fact, but much I knew I would forget or remember in a way my own, which would not exactly be correct, no, not exactly. Durell was dead, I said, and I needed to make sense of things. Sister Ann’s face was open, fragile— parts were chipped like on a recovered fresco. Above her gray head, a garish postcard of the Emmaus scene, the colors off, as if painted by numbers, with no concern for shading— the style of it had an unoriginal Catholic institutional uniformity. There it hung, askew in its golden drugstore frame. It was the scene from the end of Luke, the two disciples, one named Cleopas, the other anonymous, forever mumbling Christ’s name, and with them, the resurrected Christ masquerading as a stranger. They were on their way to that town, Emmaus, seven miles out from Jerusalem, gossiping about the impress of Christ’s vanishing— they argued about whether to believe what they had seen; they were restless, back and forth the debate went— when there is estrangement there is little peace. ii Every time we met, Sister Ann prayed first. At times, my recollections blurred or a presumption would reverse. Sister Ann told me Durell was with me still, in a more intimate way than when he lived. She frequently lost her equilibrium, as older people sometimes do, before settling into her worn-out chair where she listened to me, week after week. The day I met Durell, I said, the morning light was clear, startling the town with ornament. The steeple of Christ Church held the horizon in place, or so I imagined, as if it had been painted first with confident amounts of titanium white before the rest was added. Trees clattered. The reiterating brick puzzle of Cambridge brightened— Mass Avenue, Mount Auburn, Dunster, Holyoke— proclaimed a new September, and new students trudged the streets. Every blood-warm structure was defined in relief. Hours before, while the moon’s neck wobbled on the Charles like a giraffe’s, or the ghost of a giraffe’s neck, I imagined Durell labored, having slept only a few hours, caged in his worries of doctor bills, no money, and running out of people to ask for it: mulling over mistakes, broken love affairs— a hospital orderly, a man upstairs, he probably mumbled unkind epithets about blacks and Jews, even though the men he loved were blacks and Jews. Some of his blasphemies, if you want to call them that, embarrassed me in front of Sister Ann, but she seemed unflappably tolerant.

At sixty, he was unemployable. He had taught school and guarded buildings, each job ending worse than the last. His refrain was always: “It is not easy being an impoverished aristocrat.” He spoke with the old Harvard accent, I can still hear it, I will probably always hear it, with New York City, the North Shore and the Army mixed in, the a’s broadened, the r’s were flat, the t’s snapped— so a sentence would calibrate to a confident close, like “My dee-ah boy, that is that.” He lived on 19 Garden Street in a rent-controlled studio on the second floor, number 25; he said the “25” reminded him of Christmas. At eleven o’clock, he probably pulled on his support hose, increasing the circulation in his legs, blotched green and black. Next, he would have locked the door with his gold key and moved deliberately, his smile beleaguered. Bowing to Miss Littlefield in the landlord’s office at the building’s dark cubbyhole of an entrance: they probably spoke of Queen Elizabeth ii, her disappointments, for Miss Littlefield and he were Royalists both.

Then Durell began to move towards me, entering the Square. Breathing heavily, he might have passed the Brattle advertising Judgment at Nuremberg— inside the shut black theatrical box where the world repeated the past, Maximilian Schell interrogated Judy Garland and Montgomery Clift; Marlene Dietrich let the phone ring and ring. Maybe he passed the Store 24 sign, bright orange, passed Nini’s Corner where sex magazines were stacked like a cliff. Maybe, maybe. But, maybe not. Maybe he went another way. Then I recalled how the t shook that place, the subway grates pushing up the scent of rat-life and all things fallen, mixing with Leavitt & Peirce exuding its masculine snuff. Down Plympton Street he might have gone, past the Grolier, which I always remembered, for some reason, as closed, gilded with spines of poetry books for its reredos. Yes, he probably, most likely, certainly, did that. Sister Ann wondered if I thought he paused. I thought not— poetry offered him no solutions. At twelve o’clock, the chairperson called our aa meeting to order. We called ourselves “The Loony Nooners,” and met in a Lutheran church basement. We ate salads out of Tupperware, shaking the contents like dice to mix the dressing. Some knitted. Schizophrenics lit multiple cigarettes. Acne-pocked Kate wanted to be a model, Electroshock Mike read paperbacks, and an Irish professor named Tom, welcomed Tellus, who could not get over Nam. Darkened figures in the poor light, we looked like the burghers of Calais, and smelled of brewed coffee, smoke, perfume, urine, human brine. We were aristocrats of time: “I have twenty-one years,” “I have one week,” “I have one day.” I have often thought we were like first-century Christians— a strident, hidden throng, electrified by a message. Or, another way of thinking of us, is that we were inconvenient obstacles momentarily removed, much to the city’s relief. From each window well, high heels and business shoes hurried.

Durell H., as he was known to us, took his place, his thick hair fixed as the waves of an 1800s nautical painting (perhaps he kept it set with hair spray?), his Tiffany ring polished to a brilliance, he set himself apart in his metal folding chair. He had the clotted girth of Hermann Göring. What was he thinking about? Was he thinking about blood clots and possible aneurysms? Imperious, behind prism-like trifocals, quietly he said to me, “I’ve grown as fat as Elizabeth Taylor.” iii The meeting ended and Durell folded his metal chair. He hated his Christian name— “Durell,” he said, “Who names their child Durell?” Moving among the crowd, listening to success and failure, he passed out meeting lists, literature, leaflets. Durell sponsored men, he referred to them as “pigeons.” I met him that day. I was his last. After that, every day we spoke on rotary phones. I was young and spoke as if my story was the only one. I told him I had underlined key passages in Plato’s Symposium, told him I had been graded unfairly on Dante’s Inferno and Purgatorio, told him my schedule might not allow for the Paradiso. He matched my telling with listening, advising, and more listening, mostly over the phone, and the more he listened the more he was alone. “Why was that?” Sister Ann asked. It was some sort of offering, perhaps.

At times it seemed he needed to guarantee a pardon, that old Catholic idea of indulgences lurked somewhere there unspoken, as if he believed a larger offering might guarantee a larger pardon. Such a task demanded his increased singleness. Yes, that was true. Or was it? I had trouble settling on the right words with Sister Ann. Many of my words were not exactly right, the syntax awkward. I kept having trouble translating Durell, so much I guessed. How to know? (Why hadn’t I asked him more questions? He wasn’t the sort that invited questions, I do remember that.) Another way of saying it was that when he was with me, on the phone, then and only then, did he seem to move in truth and in his truths, reprimanding and hard, he was made more singular. Maybe that was it. Whatever the case, he listened, he listened to me. I missed his listening. Listening, Sister Ann said, is a memorable form of love.

After the meeting, he gave me his calling card. The cards were placed inside his compulsively polished silver card case, the black capitals raised on their ecru background, containing his name, bracketed by a “Mr.” and a “Jr.”— the “Mr.” denoting lost civility, the “Jr.” tallying a lineage that did not bridge. As we walked down Church Street, the bells of St. John the Evangelist rang.

The road was bright, the road full. Behind the brown gate with the thick black rusted latch, the monks sang, “It is well, it is well, with my soul, with my soul.” We peered in at bookshop clerks locating titles, watch repairmen bent over lit ocular devices, fixing movements, florists, hands wet, arranging stems and branches broken. We saw ourselves reflected. I laughed with deference, the way a student laughs before a teacher. His skin was flecked with milk-blues, lead-whites, earthen reds. In dress and demeanor he was as rigid as a toy soldier, for he was a part of a republic with standards, atrophied, devoted to order. Everyone found him impossible, including, at times, me. Of queers, his word for what he was but could not admit to, he said, “You know in the army they could never be trusted.” I mentioned romantic love. In profile, a silhouette, he paused. He said, “It has been very vexing, indeed.” By his tone, I knew never to ask again. A decorum of opprobrium kept him whole, and so he guarded himself with intensity. Maybe, Sister Ann suggested, he was guarding me. Durell said, “I’ve whittled my world down to no one, Spencer, with the possible exception of you.” iv “What happened then?” Sister Ann asked. He excused himself with a handshake, his palms soft as bread dough from all the Jergens he had slathered on, and then he probably returned to his ambry of a studio, a place where I would be one of his only visitors. Although he handed out his number, he did not always answer. I remember... (What do I remember?)... I was free to turn away but the moment I looked back, Durell would come back to me, waiting for me. It seems to me now, after all this time, few things have as much fidelity as the past. I remember he had nailed memorabilia above his head as one would place stones to fortify a castle: a photograph of him in the army, liberating people, undoing Russian codes; a framed marriage license from England (although the marriage failed, he often mumbled her name); his framed diploma, Harvard, and over the corner hung his graduation cap’s faded black tassel. Next to his pill bottles, an Edward viii coronation mug he doted on, commemorating an event that never took place. Maybe he made a bread and baloney sandwich. Maybe he stepped over the rolled-up tag-sale carpet and drew the shades.

By late evening, he might have jotted down notes about God, obedient as he was to the twelve steps of aa. He might have written in his tightly-looped feminine penmanship, informed by the Palmer Method, and later repeated a phrase or two to me over the phone. Or maybe he read from his Twenty-Four Hours a Day book to find a rule maybe, or to search for a sanctuary. Or maybe he listened to the Reverend Peter Gomes on the radio, The Plummer Professor of Christian Morals at Harvard, for he often mentioned how he loved the preacher’s parallel constructions, yes, maybe he did that, maybe, possibly, he did that. And then, perhaps, he slept a bit before the whole routine began once more with the support hose, the hair spray, Miss Littlefield, the sex magazines, the Grolier, the folding chair, the meeting, the calling card. How crazy America was, he said, how he wanted to leave, but he never left town, except jolting trips to the hospital in an ambulance down all those brick roads. v I lived in Cambridge two years. After that, wherever I moved, we spoke, daily, over the phone, on landlines — talking and listening, listening and talking, for fifteen years: “You alright?” “Yes. You?” In all that time, I saw him only once more, and by then he was nearly blind. In all that time, we barely touched one another. Why our relationship required its rood screen, I could not fully explain to Sister Ann, indeed, I can never seem to properly explain it to anyone.

But I have tried, and I will probably always keep trying. But if I get nothing right, I must try to get a nuance of our friendship and his sponsorship right— we were bound, bound by a vow, a vow of attention (there are many causes for attention, among them redemption). Our attention concerned the spirit, although that sounds pious and we were not so pious, we were more selfish, more human than pious. What else can I say? I needed a liberator and liberators can come in some unexpected guises. I may never wholly explain the two of us. Perhaps the spirit defies the human mind, even after all my time with Sister Ann. Finally, from a hospital, came the report of Durell’s last day. A charge nurse said: “I touched the gangrene leg, pink flesh was coming back.” His compliments had increased the more his life failed. In the final week, he quoted Cole Porter songs to me— You’re a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet, you’re Mickey Mouse... I did not repeat the rhymes to Sister Ann. Who Durell was and why he did what he did and why he hid what he hid I kept asking her. Sister Ann quoted from Deuteronomy: “I set before you life and death...choose life.” Old pigeon flying back, when I arrived at the hospital his body was gone. The formalities were few, for he had become a ward of the state. The staff gave me a brown grocery bag of his things: a roll of dimes, a pair of shoes, a belt buckle, an Einstein quote, something about mediocre minds. Afterwards, I went through Cambridge and found the meeting gone.

Night was coming. Blindness worked on the people, shops, churches, streets. No one knew me. People said: “Where will we go?” and “What will we eat?” I thought I recognized this or that face, but no, no, too much time had passed. On Church Street, restaurants had replaced bookstores. Windows on Mass Avenue shone with chandeliers. Someone backed up photographing with a flash. “Hold still,” they said, “hold still.” A new set of homeless people pleaded, coins rattled inside the used coffee cups they shook. Everyone moved with packages, briefcases, textbooks, flash cards, cell phones, flowers. The Charles advanced, determined as a hearse, its dark waters gathering up every unattached thing. An umber, granular dusk-light fell on the elms over Harvard Yard as they swayed dark and slow like the chords in the waltz from Copeland’s Rodeo. There I stood, unsure of which way to go. The light had more ghosts in it as it must have had that day in Emmaus. vi Suddenly, Sister Ann announced our last meeting. Down the linoleum hallway, Sister Katherine and Sister Ruth moved and prayed. Their numbers had dropped from seven to six, and the nuns decided the Retreat House would close. Soon, the chapel and offices would be leveled and replaced with condominiums. In the halls, the swoosh-snap of duct tape yanked, pulled and cut, straps tightened, vans bleating, and backing up into the back, weather reports exchanged with the movers. Sister Ann told me about herself that final time: parents dead, alcoholic brother dead, the brother embarrassed she had been a nun. She opened her Bible on the shipping box between us, leaned in, her hearing aids on, her silver crucifix knocking on her chest. Above her head, a nail where the Emmaus scene had hung. I asked: “What caused him to remain?” Why did he want freedom for me? Sister Ann spoke then of the Gospel of John and the Samaritan woman at the well, the one married nearly as many times as Elizabeth Taylor, and how when Christ listened to her she became the first evangelist. It was Christ’s longest conversation with anyone Sister Ann said. The Samaritan woman’s life changed because Christ listened to her. John K., from the meetings, dead now too, once said: “Oh, I knew Durell. He was odd. But we’re all odd you know.” All I know now is the more he loved me the more I loved the world.

vii I lost track of Sister Ann. I have often thought about her and all the time she spent with me. I have wanted to tell her now for some time that not long after the cloister closed, Durell’s sister located me, leaving a message on my answering machine, (it was still the time of answering machines), inviting me to her winter house in Boynton Beach. Durell’s sister gave me directions. She was quite close to me, as it turned out. She had some of Durell’s belongings that she wanted me to have. “There isn’t much,” she said. “But still, I think you should have what’s here.” Durell spoke of his sister often, but I did not know his family. However, when we met, we recognized each other as one sometimes recognizes what one has never seen before. I said to her: “He knew me better than anyone.” The sentence surprised us. We sat by the pool in her gated country club. The Florida evening was a watercolor in the making, colors bleeding into striking mistakes. After all the members withdrew, she said, “There are many things you do not know about my brother.” A worker folded terry cloth towels under a bamboo hut. Her voice halted as voices halt when words have been withheld. “They called him names,” she said, “A nancy boy, a priss, a sissy, a fairy...” The pool’s tempos ceased until the silence about us was the silence in a palace. Light disappeared everywhere. The sun fell. She looked away, said that he’d been to the army language school, learned German and Russian, played the organ in his spare time, mentioned he’d taken music with Copland at Harvard (he had received a “gentleman’s ‘C’”— the “C” stood for Copland she said he always said— which made us laugh and seemed to beckon him to us). He had hoped for an army career, she went on, and then she mumbled something about a little German town, I think she said it was in Schleswig-Holstein, near Lübeck, where he was stationed while borders were being redrawn, the letters stopping, the army, the men, something, the drink... and then her words fell and sank into subtle variations of all that goes unsaid.

We heard the distant sound of a train on its track, crossing the Florida map going brown then black. He became difficult, isolated— she spoke softly then like the penitent. He was always asking for money. As his requests persisted she began to screen her calls. “It became easier to tell him I had not been home,” she said. His behavior was affecting her marriage.

She chose never to introduce her children to Durell. Perhaps he had a mental illness, perhaps he invented— perhaps, perhaps, perhaps— but no, she pressed on, perhaps it was his sexuality, he was too sensitive...

“People can be cruel,” she said. She felt he had never adjusted to cruelty as if cruelty was something that one needed to adjust to. Later, he was picked up for charges of soliciting sex. And the more she told me, the less I knew. All about us, a stillness began to displace the light and Durell was there, and no longer there, staining that stillness. After an estrangement ends there comes a great stillness, the greater the estrangement the greater the stillness. Across the parking lot, a gate rattled. I told her he often said his life had been a failure, I tried to convince him otherwise, but he never believed me. Half a century ago, she broke off contact. Her protracted estrangement made her look ill. “Please, please,” she said. Her voice trailed off, although what she was pleading for was not clear.

No, no, she did not want her grandchildren to know. Subtle variations of Florida evening light withdrew with finality. The pool brightened with moonlight, the color of snow. The pool was still. There we were, a man and a woman sitting in cushioned lounge chairs, as if the world would always be an endless pair of separated things. We did not touch each other. We were still a long time.

Source: Poetry (October 2011)

[theguywithaplan]

List of Movies Turning Twenty (20) Years Old in 2025

The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl

Alone in the Dark (directed by Uwe Boll, so... guess how good it is)

The Amityville Horror (the remake starring Ryan Reynolds)

Are We There Yet? (a road trip comedy starring Ice Cube)

Bad News Bears

Batman Begins

Because of Winn-Dixie

Brokeback Mountain (THE gay movie)

Capote

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (the one with Johnny Depp)

Chicken Little (abyss content)

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Coach Carter

Constantine (starring Keanu Reeves as John Constantine)

Corpse Bride

Crash (this one Best Picture over Brokeback Mountain and people were NOT happy)

The Devil's Rejects

Diary of a Mad Black Woman (the first Madea movie)

Dominion: Prequel to The Exorcist

Doom (based on the game of the same name, and stars Dwayne Johnson and Karl Urban)

The Dukes of Hazzard

Elektra (spin-off of Daredevil)

Fantastic Four (the one with Chris Evans as the Human Torch)

The 40-Year-Old Virgin

Fun With Dick and Jane (stars Jim Carrey)

Get Rich or Die Tryin' (the 50 Cent biopic starring 50 Cent as 50 Cent).

Good Night, and Good Luck

Guess Who (a remake of Guess Who's Coming to Dinner)

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Herbie: Fully Loaded (starring Lindsay Lohan)

A History of Violence (starring Viggo Mortensen and directed by David Cronenberg).

Hitch (starring Will Smith and Kevin James)

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

The Island (directed by Michael Bay)

King Kong (directed by Peter Jackson)

Kingdom of Heaven (directed by Ridley Scott)

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (starring a pre-Iron Man Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer)

Kronk's New Groove

Land of the Dead (from George A. Romero)

The Legend of Zorro

Lilo & Stitch 2: Stitch Has a Glitch

The Longest Yard

Lords of Dogtown (a formational moment for as a skater)

Madagascar

Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous

Mr. & Mrs. Smith

Mulan II

Munich (from Steven Spielberg)

The Pacifier (starring Vin Diesel as a marine who babysits kids).

Pride and Prejudice

The Producers (a remake of the Mel Brooks movie of the same name).

Red Eye (a pretty decent horror movie from Wes Craven).

Rent (based on the musical of the same name).

The Ring Two

Robots (the Blue Sky Animation movie)

The Sandlot 2 (go watch the original if you haven't already).

Saw II

Sin City

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Sky High (a disney superhero movie from before they owned Marvel).

Son of the Mask (one of the worst movies ever made. Don't watch it.)

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

Tarzan II

Walk the Line (the Johnny Cash biopic starring Joaquin Phoenix)

Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit

War of the Worlds (i watched this movie when i was way too young. absolutely terrifying).

The Weather Man (starring Nicolas Cage).

Wedding Crashers

Zathura

[opelman]

Triplane by Treflyn Lloyd-Roberts Via Flickr: Sopwith Triplane N6290 flies over Old Warden during its display at the Shuttleworth Collection's 2024 Summer Evening Air Show. Aircraft: Sopwith Triplane replica N6290 "Dixie II" (G-BOCK), built in 1988 by Northern Aeroplane Workshops. Location: Old Warden Aerodrome, near Biggleswade, Bedfordshire.

[heinousactszx]

been on a serious mario binge lately and i want more but i have too many to choose from so i'll let the people decide. a * indicates a game i've beaten before

[sindirimba]

@bossymarmalade tagged me and did 20 songs so i'm going to do 20 songs too even though i was only tagged once. i can do whatever i want!

Rules: shuffle your “on repeat” playlist and post the first 10 songs, then tag 10 friends to do the same.

queens of the stone age - mexicola

metallica - the four horsemen

joan baez - the night they drove old dixie down

soul II soul - back to life

OMC - how bizarre

final fantasy XV ost - rodeo de chocobo

zebra katz x leila - you tell em

nitty scott & the polish ambassador - gettin outta the city

tupac - keep ya head up

pj harvey - the whores hustle and the hustlers whore

woody guthrie - miss pavlichenko

tom waits - flower's grave

boyfriend - jealousy

a tribe called quest - electric relaxation

the animals - house of the rising sun

tre mission ft thes - stigmata

rage against the machine - guerilla radio

george michael - freedom 90

naughty by nature - OPP

the ronettes - be my baby

but also adding a cheeky little 21 with the stooges - i wanna be your dog because that coming up right after 'be my baby' was delightful. twin confessions of love, equal in devotion and sincerity.

tagging: @gaal-dornick @nevermindirah @aliceat97point3 @cerise-hood @what-alchemy @meinenaffenhosen @mongoose-bite and anyone else who wants to play, i'm reaching my 'oh god i want to tag everyone but i don't want to be annoying' limit. mental illness.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Master-Taglist

general HOTD [Aegon + Aemond]: @connorsui @peachysunrize @saintaegon @zaldritzosrose @elaratyrell @starogeorgina @darylandbethfanforever9 @dreamfyre03 @paigeestrawfordd @fan-goddess @sylasthegrim @diannnnsss @dixie-elocin

Aegon ii Targaryen: @bucknastysbabe @danytar @dr-aegon @rhaenattargaryen @fragileheartbeats @laedeviour

Aemond Targaryen: @blackswxnn

updating my taglist, please message or comment to be tagged!

[igetthedisneybox]

Anastasia Kids: Jeanie, Boyce, Teagan, Tanya, Anthony, Aaron, Amara, Anya, Elizabeth/'Elle', Colombe /'Loomy', Felix, Francis/frankie, Maeve, Fulbert, Bernard, Arsène, Avril, Fleur, Aldric, Julian, Juniper, Adriana, and Adelina/Addy.

Runo/Sideburns and Caine's kids: Cormac ‘Cheekbones’ Stabbington, Chatrine 'Two-Tone' Stabbington, Roman 'Six' Stabbington, Ronan 'Curly' Stabbington, Gudrun 'Friz/Frizzle' Stabbington, and Tega ‘Braids’ Stabbington.

Rudi/Patchy, Brock, and Stalyan's kids: Ignatius ‘Brunet/Iggy’ Stabbington, Darlina ‘Greeny’ Stabbington, Rhett 'Buck' Stabbington, Samara 'Freckles' Stabbington, and Rexford ‘Rex/Nosey’ Stabbington.

Drizella and Hans: Bolin, Dylan, Daisy May, Maylis, Horace, Hadrien, Marc, Delphine, Blanchard, Dorothy, Daphne, Geneviève/Evie, Deborah/Debbie, Delanie, Dixie, Tanner, Dot/Dottie, Drizella 'Dizzy' Tremaine-Westergaard of the Southern Isles II, Dennis, David-James, and Donald.

Dorothy's daughter: Daria (baby picrew).

Daphne's daughter: Danielle.

.

[oldtvlover]

S01E09 Dilemma or It never rains but it pours (German)

Summary: An elevator gets stuck between floors, the brake drum fails, and a woman has a heart attack inside of it. Despite Student Nurse Sharon Walters's admiration for Dr. Brackett, he makes her nervous whenever he's around. Dixie diagnoses her nursing student with Bracketitis. Later, a fireman buff develops a crush on John, who tries to get rid of her. A man is injured in his junkyard. An industrial accident takes place at a railroad yard. With the help of Dixie, Nurse Walters smiles in front of both Dixie and Dr. Brackett, and they all take care of a man with a pulmonary embolism. — Gary Richard Collins II (on IMDB)

Johnny and Roy respond to a stuck elevator with a heart patient inside - but before they can rescue her, it slips and falls two stories to the floor, creating new injuries! Dr. Brackett intimidates Sharon, who's also causing her to make mistakes, whenever he's around, therefore, Dixie diagnoses her student with Bracketitis. Johnny tries to find someone to take out Cynthia, a girl who's chasing him, and he figures any girl chasing a guy must have something wrong with her. A man who buries all his garbage creates a methane hazard, and two rail yard workers start cleaning the wrong car, and the fumes in it overcome them. Before Nurse Walters smiles in front of Dixie and Dr. Brackett, they all help a man with a pulmonary embolism. (taken from here again)

Thoughts: Well, Johnny is talking about his stalker Cynthia but Roy doesn't believe him. Their first rescue brings them to an elevator stuck between two floors but on accident it crashes down, so they deal with more injuries. They get all out but a man and his woman friend remain and the two paramedics take care them. For me, the lift man was annoying here, apologizing all the time. *sighs* At Rampart, nursing student Walters is nervous around Dr. Brackett and well, Dixie helps her then dealing with it and Dr. Early as well. Johnny and Roy are then called to a junkyard where a man is blazed with methane but they get him a fire and he thanks them for it. At a railroad accident they deal with more but they manage to save both workers on time. In the end, all firemen get to know Cynthia and Roy does believe his friend Johnny has no eyes. And well, Chet has a date with her and even borrows Mike's truck.

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

Enjoy!

[kckt88]

Here With Me II.

Summary:

Aemond deals with the reappearance of Alys.

Warning(s): Alys, Language, Angst, Drama, Kissing, Allusion to Smut.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C BILLIE SKYLARK

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 3000

Tag List - @zenka69, @0eessirk8, @dixie-elocin, @wickedfrsgrl, @immyowndefender

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond's heart sank as he took in the scene before him, his mind going back and forth between disbelief and rage. "Alys," he said, his voice tinged with incredulity. "What are you doing here?"

Alys' eyes narrowed as she met his gaze, a calculating smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I came to see you, Aemond, to tell you-" she replied smoothly, her voice honeyed with false sincerity.

Aemond's stomach churned with unease as he realized what Alys was implying. "-No," he said firmly, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief. "That's not possible."

But Alys merely laughed "Oh, but it is, Aemond-" she insisted, her tone dripping with scorn. "This child is yours."

Aemond's mind raced as he struggled to comprehend the situation unfolding before him. He knew in his heart that Alys' claims were false, that she was using this as a ploy to manipulate him.

But the sight of her standing there heavily pregnant, with Billie looking confused and hurt, filled him with a sense of dread and despair.

"No," he repeated, his voice growing louder with each word. "I won't let you do this."

But Alys merely smirked, her eyes glinting with triumph. "You don't have a choice, Aemond," she taunted, her voice filled with malicious glee. "You will acknowledge this child, whether you like it or not."

"It's not my child," insisted Aemond, his tone firm and unwavering. "I haven't slept with you in well over a year. I've been in a committed relationship with Billie."

Alys scoffed, her eyes flashing with scorn. "Oh, please," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What about that time nine months ago? Or have you conveniently forgotten that incident in the back your car?"

Aemond's jaw clenched with anger at Alys' blatant lies, his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I never slept with you nine months ago," he shot back, his voice tinged with frustration.

Alys' smirk faltered, her confidence wavering in the face of Aemond's anger.

“Aemond”

"No, Alys," he declared, his words laced with certainty. "The baby is not mine, besides I always used protection with you-"

Alys rolled her eyes, her disbelief evident in her expression. "Oh, please," she scoffed, her voice tinged with frustration. "No method is 100% effective."

Aemond's jaw clenched with frustration at Alys' stubborn refusal to accept the truth. "I'm well aware of that fact," he conceded through gritted teeth. "But what is 100% effective is NOT having sex with you at all. You're a fucking liar, Alys".

Alys' face flushed with anger at his accusation, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. "How dare you!" she seethed, her voice trembling with rage. "You can't just deny your responsibility like this!"

But Aemond remained unmoved, his gaze steady and unwavering as he faced her down. "I'm not denying anything," he replied evenly. "I'm simply stating the truth”.

Obviously realising what she was doing wasn't working, Alys tried another tactic, she smiled sweetly and reached out towards Aemond, her hand running up his arm.

“Aemy baby-please, we were so good together, what we had was special“ muttered Alys.

"No it wasn't Alys-you treat me like shit" snarked Aemond snatching his arm away from her grasp.

"I made a mistake-sweet boy" whispered Alys.

"No-the mistake was mine-I never should have got involved with you in the first place" replied Aemond.

"You were nothing before you met me. I made you the man you are" replied Alys.

"No-Alys. It was getting away from you and being with Billie that made me who I am"

"But the sex we had-the way we were with one another-"

"-It was disgusting" replied Aemond.

"She knows how you like it does she?"

"Alys-don't-" warned Aemond.

"We can have it again baby-remember, how we would-"

"-NO. When I was with you, I felt hollow, I felt disgusted with myself-you want to talk about our sex? how about the times where you would make me feel like I was nothing-how you would belittle and hurt me, then demand I spend hours pleasing you in bed-"

"Aemond" gasped Billie her hand covering her mouth.

"I felt sick to my stomach whenever you wanted me to touch you-the countless times I had to fantasize about someone else to get me through it-" said Aemond wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"You liar-" snarled Alys.

"That's rich coming from you-" quipped Aemond.

"-And you want her?" scoffed Alys.

"Yes-" replied Aemond firmly.

"What does she have that I don't?" asked Alys in disbelief.

"Everything"

"-And you really think that she's going to stick around and help you raise our child?"

"For the love of all that is holy-I'm not the FUCKING father"

"Yes you are-" muttered Alys.

"No I'm not-get it through your head. There's only one woman I've ever fucked in my car and it certainly wasn't you-it was Billie"

"Aemond-" exclaimed Billie.

"She'd spent the day with Helaena, and from the second she was away from me-I missed her. I spent the day imagining how I would make love to her. I got myself so worked up that when I picked her up I couldn't contain myself-I just had to have her-"

"-You-" gasped Alys.

"-That desire, the primal need-the not being able to wait. I was so desperate for her that I tore her clothes from her body and sank my self inside her so deep-I couldn't tell where I ended and she began"

"T-That-" uttered Alys.

"Billie makes me feel like I'm the centre of her world, she makes me feel special, she loves me for who I am-not what I am. You have never made me feel like that" admitted Aemond.

"Aemond-" whispered Billie

"Billie, you have to believe me," he implored, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you, and I would never betray your trust like this."

Billie's eyes softened with empathy, her hand reaching out to gently grasp his. "I believe you, Aemond, I trust you-I know you’re not the father" she reassured him, her voice filled with unwavering certainty.

“What?” exclaimed Alys.

"Aegon is” stated Billie, her voice steady but filled with accusation.

Alys' eyes widened in shock, her mask of confidence slipping for the first time since she entered the room. "How do you know?" she demanded, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Billie's gaze hardened as she explained, "It's your perfume, Alys. I remember smelling it on Aegon the night Aemond introduced me to his family."

Aemond's eye widened in understanding as he recalled the events of that evening—

"You mentioned he had an odour about him," Aemond interjected, his voice filled with realization. "But I thought it was just a joke."

Billie nodded; her certainty unwavering. "It wasn't a joke," she affirmed. "It was the truth."

Alys' face paled as the weight of Billie's accusation settled upon her. She opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out.

Billie's resolve strengthened as she took a step closer to Alys, her senses homed in on the familiar scent that lingered in the air around her. With a furrowed brow, she inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as she sought confirmation of her suspicions.

And then, without a shadow of doubt, she nodded resolutely. "I'd never forget a stench like that," she declared, her voice firm and unwavering.

Aemond's patience snapped like a taut rope, his eye blazing with fury as he advanced towards Alys, his fists clenched at his sides.

"How dare you!" he roared, his voice reverberating with anger and betrayal. "How dare you come into my home and spin your web of lies, trying to manipulate me and the woman I love!"

Alys recoiled at the intensity of his rage, her eyes widening in fear as she backed away. "Aemond, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. "I didn't mean—"

But Aemond cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, his anger boiling over like a volcano on the brink of eruption. "Don't you dare try to play innocent with me," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You knew exactly what you were doing”

"I told Aegon about the baby, but he refused to have anything to do with it."

Aemond's eye narrowed with contempt as he processed her words, his anger simmering just below the surface.

"Why should that surprise you?" he retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. "Aegon has multiple children with multiple women, and he doesn't accept responsibility for any of them."

Alys flinched at the harsh truth of his words, her facade of defiance crumbling under the weight of her own actions. "I thought maybe this time would be different," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I was wrong."

“You slept with my brother, and when he discarded you like the filth you are, you decide to try and lie to me? There is no way I would ever father a child with you."

Alys recoiled at the venom in his words, her face contorting with a mixture of shock and shame. "I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she stammered, her voice trembling with fear.

But Aemond's rage was unrelenting, his anger fuelled by the depth of her betrayal. "You're a liar and a manipulator," he spat, his words dripping with contempt. "You tried to use me to clean up the mess you made with my brother, but you underestimated me. I won't let you destroy my life"

“Aemond-“

"Get out," he commanded, his tone icy with contempt. "Leave this apartment, and never come back. I don't want to see your face ever again."

Alys' eyes widened in shock at the finality of his words, the weight of his rejection hitting her like a physical blow. "But Aemond, please," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "I-I still love you."

But Aemond's resolve remained unyielding, his gaze unwavering as he met her pleading eyes.

"You don’t know how to love, everything about you is a lie," he declared, his voice ringing with disdain. "Your just a fucking vampire sucking the life out of everything and everyone you come into contact with, and I want nothing to do with you. Now leave, before I make you” snarled Aemond as he wrenched the door open.

With a heavy heart, Alys made her way towards the door, her shoulders slumped with defeat.

As she crossed the threshold, she cast one final glance back at Aemond, her eyes filled with regret and sorrow.

But Aemond's gaze remained cold and impassive, his heart hardened as he slammed the door shut.

Billie stepped closer to Aemond, her heart aching for the pain he must be feeling. Gently, she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a warm embrace.

Aemond hesitated for a moment, his body tense with residual anger and frustration. But as Billie's comforting touch enveloped him, he couldn't help but let out a shaky breath, the tension slowly melting away.

With a soft sigh, Aemond leaned into her embrace, allowing himself to be held by the woman who had stood by his side through it all.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his arms encircling her waist as he sought solace in her comforting presence.

Suddenly Bille felt a slight tremble run through his body.

Concerned, she pulled back slightly to look into his eye, and her heart sank as she saw the tears in his eye.

"Aemond, are you ok?" she asked softly, her voice filled with gentle concern.

Aemond took a shaky breath, his voice choked with emotion as he struggled to speak. "I-I had everything planned," he confessed, his words coming out in a broken whisper. "The perfect surprise-for you."

Billie's brow furrowed in confusion, her concern deepening. "What surprise?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Aemond's tears fell freely now, his emotions spilling over in a torrent of anguish. "I was going to cook your favourite meal," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was going to fill the apartment with your favourite flowers-And then, I was going to ask you to marry me."

Billie's breath caught in her throat at his confession, her heart skipping a beat at the enormity of his words.

"And after that," Aemond continued, his voice trembling with sorrow, "I was going to take you to bed and make love to you all night-But now, it's all ruined because of Alys and her fucking lies."

Billie's eyes brimmed with tears at the devastation in Aemond's voice, her heart breaking for the pain he was experiencing. Without hesitation, she pulled him close once more, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"It's not ruined, Aemond," she whispered, her voice filled with love and reassurance. "We'll get through this together. And when the time is right, we'll have our perfect moment-I love you, and nothing can change that."

“I just can’t believe that audacity of her to show up like that-“ muttered Aemond.

“After everything you told me about her and what I just heard-it’s no surprise really” replied Billie.

“Getting pregnant with my brothers child and then trying to pass it off as mine-is there truly no depths that she wouldn’t sink too”.

“I guess she was just desperate-especially if Aegon did cast her aside,” said Billie.

“It’s her own fault-now she has to deal with the consequences, I’m just glad not to be involved in that mess anymore” replied Aemond.

“Did it feel good. Giving her a piece of your mind?”  asked Billie curiously.

“It felt fucking fantastic-now where’s the whiskey. I need a drink” retorted Aemond.

In the months that followed Alys’ attempt to manipulate Aemond, many changes happened.

The first was Aemond’s insistence that they move to a new apartment, the second was that he cut ties with Aegon-he promised his mother that he wouldn’t cause any trouble and would remain cordial at family functions but other than that he didn’t want to know.

He was angry, but he was also hurt-he had not really been that close to Aegon, but he'd spent many hours talking to Aegon about his relationship with Alys and everything she put him through, and despite everything that Aemond had told him, his brother had still got involved with Alys.

It wasn't about her-he couldn't give two shits. But it was Aegon-his own brother.

But Aegon had made his bed, now he needed to lie in it. As did Alys. No doubt by now she would have had the baby, but Aemond didn’t want to know, technically the baby was his niece or nephew, but he just didn’t want to be involved.

Alys was the past and Billie was his future.

Aemond had everything he had ever wanted, and he never wanted to let it go.

His little bird, the love of his life and his soul mate.

A truly remarkable woman who was the light of his life, she would spend hours going over different scents for the perfumes she made, often working late into the night, but she always made time for him and Aemond made sure to spend every moment he could between her soft thighs.

His ravenous appetite for carnal pleasures knew no bounds as he made a point to christen every surface in their new apartment.

He would spend many hours fucking her into exhaustion, his cock pounding into her tight wet heat.

Just thinking about bending her over the kitchen counter made Aemond's cock respond in earnest.

But it was probably not a good idea to get an erection whilst he was currently sat at the traffic lights, his fingers gripping the steering wheel of his car so tight they had turned white.

Fuck he needed to get home-he needed his little bird.

Perhaps tonight he would throw her legs over his shoulders and devour her sweet cunt until she screamed his name and then he would have her ride him afterwards.

Yes-that would do nicely.

He just had to get home first.

As Aemond returned home from a long day's teaching and staff meetings, he was met with a surprise that lifted his spirits.

There, standing in the warm glow of the apartment, was Billie, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Hey, love," she greeted him, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I have something for you."

Intrigued, Aemond approached her, curiosity dancing in his eye. "What is it?" he asked, his interest piqued.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Billie handed him a small, elegantly wrapped box, adorned with a delicate ribbon. "Open it," she urged him, her excitement palpable.

With trembling hands, Aemond carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box. And there, nestled within a bed of velvet, lay a small bottle adorned with intricate designs—a bottle of perfume.

Aemond's breath caught in his throat as he gazed upon the exquisite craftsmanship, his heart swelling with gratitude for the woman who stood before him.

"It's-beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

Billie beamed with pride, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I finished it a few weeks ago, it’s the scent I made in your honour" she confessed, her voice tinged with excitement. "I named it Sapphire".

Aemond's eye widened in surprise at the unexpected choice of name, his mind racing.

"Sapphire?" he repeated.

Billie nodded, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Yes," she explained. "After the gemstone that you have in the place of your missing eye."

Aemond's heart swelled with emotion at the thoughtful gesture, his eye welling with tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Billie-I’m truly honoured" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

But Billie wasn't finished yet.

With a flourish, she uncapped the bottle, releasing a soft, delicate scent that filled the air with its intoxicating aroma—a scent that spoke of love, of devotion, of the bond that bound them together.

"It's soft with a hint of vanilla," Billie explained, her voice filled with pride. "Just like you."

Overwhelmed by the depth of her love and the beauty of her gift, Aemond pulled her into his arms, holding her close as tears of gratitude streamed down his cheeks.

“It’s perfect my love-“ replied Aemond.

"Guess what, Aemond?" she said, her voice tinged with excitement. "The scent is already trending on social media, and the pre-sales are larger than anything I ever anticipated."

Aemond's eyes widened in astonishment, his heart swelling with pride for the woman he loved. "That's amazing, Billie!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I'm so proud of you."

Billie beamed with joy at his words, her heart soaring with happiness. "Thank you, Aemond," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without your love and support."

"I love you-" whispered Aemond.

"-I love you too Issa zaldrīzes" replied Billie smiling (My dragon).

"W-What did you just say?" asked Aemond.

"Oh-did I say it wrong, I know how much you like ancient languages and I ordered a Valyrian phrase book in Braille-and I was practising, oh god this is so embrassing-" stammered Billie fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

"No-you said it perfectly. I-I was just surprised that's all. What else can you say?"

"Avy jorrāelan issa dārys-" (I love you my King).

Billie didn't get to tell Aemond what else she learned as he hauled her over his shoulder and took her to their bedroom.

Where he spent the night worshipping Zȳhon dāria. (His queen).

Her legs thrown over his shoulders as he devoured her sweet cunt, making her sob with pleasure as she came on his tongue and fingers.

Then he sheathed his hard cock inside her. He had her many times that night, in many positions, filling her to the brim with his seed until she passed out from pleasure and exhaustion-his cock still nestled inside her.

He was going to ask her-he needed to ask her. As he slept that night-he dreamt of seeing her round with his child, his large hand running over the swell of her stomach, the ring on her finger sparkling in the sunlight.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow upon the room, Aemond watched with a smile as Billie slept peacefully beside him.

With a gentle touch, he traced the delicate petals of a long-stemmed rose along the curve of her body, eliciting a soft giggle from her lips as it tickled her skin.

Billie stirred awake, her laughter fading into a contented sigh as she opened her eyes "Good morning, love," she murmured, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

"Good morning, my darling," Aemond replied, his eye sparkling with adoration.

Billie shook her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Not at all," she assured him. "What are you up to?"

Aemond's smile widened as he leaned down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss, his heart overflowing with love. "I just wanted to tell you how much I love you," he whispered against her lips, his voice filled with emotion.

Billie's heart swelled with happiness at his words, her eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. "I love you too, Aemond," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond put the rose on the bedside table and reached into his pocket, producing a small velvet box.

"Whilhelmina Skylark," he began, his voice trembling with nervous excitement. "Will you marry me?"

Tears of joy streamed down Billie's cheeks, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "Yes, Aemond," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "Yes, I will marry you."

Aemond's heart skipped a beat as Billie's words sank in, a surge of joy and excitement coursing through him like a tidal wave.

"I want to marry you as soon as possible, I don’t want to wait" he declared, his voice filled with eager anticipation.

But before he could even finish his sentence, Billie let out a joyful laugh, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, you might have too, as I have a surprise of my own," she interjected, her voice laced with excitement.

Aemond's brow furrowed in curiosity as he watched her reach into the drawers beside their bed, his mind racing with possibilities.

What could she possibly have in store for him?

And then, with a flourish, Billie pulled out a small white object, holding it out for him to see.

Aemond's eye widened in astonishment—a positive pregnancy test.

"I'm pregnant," Billie announced, her voice trembling with emotion. "-Helaena knows, she was with me when I did the test."

Aemond's heart swelled with an overwhelming flood of joy and love, his eye brimming with tears of happiness.

"Billie," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.