#we’re a massive army and we need YOU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

novaursa · 4 months ago

Text

The Dragon's Right (10)

- Summary: - It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Pairing: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Previous part: 9

- Next part: 11

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The Crown’s forces gathered on the ridge overlooking the barren landscape of the Dornish border. Rows of soldiers stood at the ready, shields raised, spears glinting under the harsh sun, their faces set with grim resolve. The wind carried the distant sound of drums and war horns, a steady beat from the Dornish army assembling in the valley below. The smell of dust and sweat clung to the men, the anticipation of battle hanging heavy over the field.

Captain Mallor, the commander of your ground forces, surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes. “They’re massing for a charge,” he muttered to his lieutenant, his voice low but tense. “We’re outnumbered, but if we hold the ridge, we might stand a chance.”

The lieutenant nodded, though his face was pale with the realization of what lay ahead. “Where is the prince?” he asked quietly. “We’ll need him… and his dragon.”

The captain’s eyes flicked to the sky, scanning the clear horizon. “He’ll come,” he said, though even he couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his voice.

Below them, the Dornish army moved like a tide, their brightly colored banners snapping in the wind, the glint of their spears and swords creating a sea of metal and bloodlust. They were ready, and they were coming. Soon.

But then, just as the tension seemed about to break, there was a distant, thunderous roar that echoed across the valley, causing every head to snap upward.

From the clouds above, Silverwing appeared, her massive wings beating the air with a power that made the ground tremble. You sat atop her, your body braced against the saddle as she descended swiftly, the sun catching the glint of her silvery scales. Below, the soldiers on both sides stared in awe and fear as the great dragon loomed above them, casting a shadow over the battlefield.

“There he is!” someone shouted from the lines of your men, their spirits lifting at the sight of you and Silverwing.

“Ready the archers!” Captain Mallor barked, his voice carrying over the clamor as Silverwing swooped down, her powerful wings stirring up clouds of dust.

You could feel the tension of the moment in your bones, your heart pounding with both anticipation and dread. This was it. The Dornish army was larger than expected, and you knew they had prepared for you. Reports of scorpion ballistas had been filtering in for weeks, but now, as you flew over the mass of their forces, you could see the large siege weapons being wheeled into position.

Silverwing let out another deafening roar, one that shook the ground and sent a shudder through the enemy ranks. But the Dornish were not cowed so easily. They were battle-hardened and knew that dragons, while powerful, were not invincible.

You leaned forward, giving Silverwing the command to dive.

With a terrifying grace, Silverwing folded her wings and plunged downward, a stream of dragonfire spilling from her open jaws. The fire hit the front ranks of the Dornish army like a hammer, the flames scorching the earth, leaving nothing but charred bodies and burning wreckage in their wake. Screams filled the air as the heat of the flames spread, and men scrambled to avoid the dragon’s wrath.

But as you circled for another pass, you caught sight of the scorpions—massive ballistas mounted on wooden platforms, their operators frantically turning the cranks to aim the deadly harpoons at you.

“They’re aiming for us!” you shouted to yourself, tightening your grip on the reins as you urged Silverwing to veer left. Her wings flared, and you felt the rush of wind as she twisted away, avoiding the first volley of harpoons that whizzed through the air, missing by mere feet.

“Hold steady!” you commanded, but your heart raced as you saw more scorpions being loaded, their deadly spears now pointed directly at you.

Silverwing banked hard, her wings cutting through the air as she avoided another harpoon. But in the chaos of the battlefield, you didn’t see the third scorpion until it was too late.

A sharp whistle split the air, and you had only a second to react. You yanked on the reins, pulling Silverwing into a sudden roll, but the harpoon grazed your side, tearing through your armor and ripping a searing line of pain across your ribs. You gritted your teeth, gasping as the wound burned, blood soaking through your tunic.

Silverwing let out a shriek of alarm, her body jerking to the side as she felt your pain through your bond. “I’m fine!” you shouted, though the throbbing agony in your side made it difficult to speak. “Just keep flying!”

You gripped the reins tighter, ignoring the hot, sticky sensation of blood running down your skin. Another scorpion fired, and this time, Silverwing was ready. She spun in the air, dodging the harpoon with ease before unleashing another blast of fire, scorching the siege weapon and the men operating it. The ballista exploded into a burst of wood and flame, sending debris flying in all directions.

But the battle was far from over. The Dornish soldiers, seeing their weapons destroyed, began to surge forward, their commanders barking orders as they launched a full-scale charge toward your forces.

“Now!” Captain Mallor shouted from below, raising his sword. The archers let loose their arrows in a deadly volley, and the front lines of the Dornish army fell in droves. But still, they pressed on, determined to reach the ridge and break your lines.

You urged Silverwing lower, her great wings beating the air as she descended once more. The battle below was chaos—soldiers clashing, shields splintering, the sounds of swords clanging and men screaming filling the air. You could see your forces struggling to hold the line, the weight of the Dornish numbers pushing them back.

“We need to break their charge,” you muttered, scanning the battlefield for the best point of attack.

Silverwing growled in response, her body coiled with fury, ready to strike. You guided her toward the thickest part of the enemy lines, where the Dornish were pressing hardest. With a flick of the reins, you gave her the signal, and she opened her jaws wide, releasing another torrent of dragonfire.

The flames tore through the enemy ranks, leaving devastation in their wake. Men screamed as they were consumed by fire, their armor melting to their skin. Horses bucked and fled in terror, and the ground itself seemed to burn as Silverwing’s fire swept across the battlefield.

But even as you rained fire upon the enemy, you knew this would not be enough. The Dornish were relentless, their resolve unshaken by the dragon’s fury. They pushed forward, their commanders shouting for them to press the advantage.

Your side burned with pain, but you ignored it, focusing only on the battle, on the roar of Silverwing’s breath, and on the enemy that had to be stopped.

As the battle raged on, the Dornish forces began to falter, their morale breaking under the relentless assault of dragon and steel. But you knew there would be no easy victory here. The fight had only just begun, and the price of protecting the realm would be paid in blood.

But for now, the Crown’s forces held. And Silverwing, her scales glistening with blood and soot, let out one final, victorious roar that echoed across the battlefield, sending a shudder of fear through the remnants of the Dornish army.

The mood in the Tower of the Hand was suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken words as Otto Hightower sat in his study, his fingers drumming impatiently against the edge of his desk. His brow was deeply furrowed, his mind clearly preoccupied as he stared at the open window, his thoughts far beyond the confines of the Red Keep. The months had dragged on since you had flown off to the Dornish border, and with each passing day, Otto’s frustrations grew. Plans were stalling, opportunities slipping through their grasp, all while the realm waited for the prince’s return—if he ever returned.

A soft rustling of fabric caught his attention, and he turned to see Alicent standing quietly by the door, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. She had come at his summons, but the look on her face revealed she knew this conversation would not be a pleasant one. She could sense her father’s agitation in the set of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes.

“Alicent,” Otto said without preamble, gesturing for her to enter. “Come in. We need to speak.”

She stepped into the room, her movements graceful but hesitant. The weight of the past months had settled heavily on her shoulders, her inner turmoil visible in the slight slump of her posture. She stood before her father, her hands still clasped tightly, as if bracing herself for what was to come.

“Yes, Father?” Alicent asked softly, her voice betraying the nerves she felt. She had been waiting for this conversation, knowing it was only a matter of time before Otto’s frustrations turned toward her.

Otto’s frown deepened as he stood from his chair, pacing slowly around the room, his hands behind his back. He didn’t look at her directly as he spoke, his voice low but filled with irritation. “It’s been months, Alicent. Months since the prince left for the Dornish border, and in that time, we’ve made no progress. None.”

Alicent’s heart sank at his words. She had known this was coming, but hearing the disappointment in her father’s voice still stung deeply. She shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting his gaze as he continued.

“We had a plan,” Otto went on, his tone growing sharper. “A plan that hinged on your ability to gain the prince’s favor. And yet, here we are. Months later, and you have nothing to show for it.”

Alicent flinched at the harshness of his words, but she forced herself to remain composed, though her voice wavered slightly as she responded. “I know, Father. But… the prince—he’s been away for so long. There was little I could do once he left.”

Otto stopped pacing, turning to face her with a sharp look in his eyes. “And whose fault is that? You had your chance, Alicent. You had the opportunity to win his trust, his affection, but you let it slip away. Now, we’re stuck waiting for him to return, if he even does.”

Alicent’s throat tightened, and she felt the sting of tears threatening to well in her eyes. She blinked them back, her fingers twisting nervously in front of her. She knew her father was right, at least in part. She had tried to win your favor, but her efforts had always felt hollow, overshadowed by your bond with Rhaenyra. And now, with you gone, she felt as though she had failed entirely.

“I’ll be better prepared when he returns,” she said quietly, her voice filled with quiet determination despite the sadness that weighed on her heart. “I’ll be patient, and I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

Otto raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a scornful smile. “Patient? Prepared?” He shook his head. “Alicent, by the time he returns, it may already be too late. The realm moves on, and so do alliances. If you don’t act now, we’ll lose everything we’ve worked for.”

Alicent’s chest tightened, her heart pounding in her ears as she struggled to find the right words. She had always been obedient to her father’s wishes, always tried to meet his expectations. But with you, it had been different. The feelings she harbored for you were not just strategy or duty—they were something deeper, something that made it difficult to see you as just another piece in the game her father played. She had grown fond of you, despite her attempts to push those feelings aside.

“But I can do this,” Alicent insisted, her voice firmer this time. “I won’t fail again.”

Otto sighed heavily, walking toward the window and looking out over the Red Keep. His shoulders were tense, his frustration evident in the way his hands gripped the windowsill. “You need to set aside your foolish feelings for the prince,” he said, his tone cold. “This isn’t about love, Alicent. It never was. It’s about securing our position, securing the future of our house.”

The words hit her like a physical blow, and she recoiled slightly, her eyes widening in shock. Her father’s bluntness wasn’t new, but hearing him dismiss her emotions so callously hurt more than she had expected. She had tried to hide her feelings, even from herself, but now they were laid bare, exposed and dismissed in the same breath.

“I…” Alicent started to speak, but her voice faltered, her hands trembling at her sides. She couldn’t deny that part of her had hoped for something more than mere duty in her interactions with you, and now, her father had torn that hope away.

Otto turned back to face her, his expression hard. “You had your chance, and you wasted it,” he said coldly. “Now we have to rethink our approach.”

Alicent lowered her head, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as she fought back the sting of tears. She didn’t want to appear weak in front of her father, not now. But the weight of his words crushed her, leaving her feeling as though she had failed not just him, but herself as well.

“What… what do you want me to do, Father?” she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Otto’s eyes gleamed with a new idea, his lips curling into a calculating smile as he stepped closer to her. “The king,” he began slowly, his voice taking on a more measured tone. “Your efforts may not have worked with the prince, but King Viserys… he’s been suffering since he sent his son away. He’s lonely, grieving the absence of his heir.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed, her confusion evident as she looked at her father. “Father, what are you saying?”

Otto’s gaze sharpened, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. “You will go to him, Alicent. You will offer him comfort.”

Alicent’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Father, I… I don’t understand. You want me to—”

“You’ll offer him comfort,” Otto repeated, his voice firm. “The king is vulnerable right now. He needs someone by his side, someone he can rely on. And that someone should be you.”

Alicent shook her head, stepping back from her father, her heart racing. “But I… Father, I can’t…”

Otto’s expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. “You will do what’s necessary, Alicent. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. If you can win the king’s trust, his affection, we can secure our position in the realm. You’ll ensure our future.”

Alicent’s chest tightened, her mind reeling from the implications of what her father was asking of her. “But… but I care for the prince,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I thought… I thought I could—”

Otto cut her off with a sharp look. “The prince is gone, Alicent. And when he returns, it may be too late to secure anything with him. You must focus on the here and now. The king is the key to our future.”

Alicent stared at her father, her heart breaking as the weight of his expectations crashed down on her. She had always done as he asked, always played the part he had molded her into. But this… this was different. This felt like a betrayal, not just to herself, but to you as well.

“I’ll do what you ask,” she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But…” She hesitated, tears welling in her eyes. “I… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Otto’s expression softened for a moment, but only briefly. “We all must make sacrifices, Alicent,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Now go. The king needs comfort. Give it to him.”

Alicent nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she turned to leave the room, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead.

The air in King Viserys’s private chambers was charged with strife, the kind that clung to the walls and weighed down every breath. Rhaenyra stood, her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her chest rising and falling with the force of her anger. Across the room, Viserys sat in his high-backed chair, his face red from the shouting match that had already unfolded between them. His eyes were sharp with frustration, though beneath it all was the unmistakable sorrow of a father who felt cornered by his own decisions.

“I will not marry him!” Rhaenyra’s voice rang out, fierce and defiant, her usually calm demeanor shattered. She paced the floor, unable to stand still, her mind racing as the weight of her father’s words sank in. “Lord Jason Lannister? He is arrogant, conceited, and—"

“You will marry him,” Viserys interrupted sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are a princess, and this is your duty. Lord Jason is the perfect match to solidify the alliance between the Crown and House Lannister. This is not up for debate.”

Rhaenyra spun on her heel, her face a mixture of fury and disbelief. “I don’t care about alliances, Father!” she shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. “I will not be bargained off like a prize to someone like Jason Lannister. You know nothing of him—he’s vain, pompous, and entirely insufferable! I refuse to marry him, and I will not be forced into this.”

Viserys’s jaw tightened, and he slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, the sound echoing through the chamber. “You will marry him, Rhaenyra!” he bellowed, rising from his seat, his face flushed with anger. “You think you can run from your duty forever? This is not a choice! You are the heir to the Iron Throne, and you will marry as I see fit. That is the end of it.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes burned with tears she refused to shed, her heart pounding with rage. She stared at her father, her lip trembling as the weight of his words pressed down on her. He had always been the one person she thought would understand her, the one person she could count on. But now, here he was, forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want with a man she despised.

“This is about more than just duty,” she said, her voice lower now, but no less intense. “It’s about control. You married Alicent, and now you think you can dictate the rest of my life. But I won’t let you. I won’t.”

Viserys’s face softened, if only for a moment, at the mention of his new wife. The two years since his marriage to Alicent had not been easy on his relationship with Rhaenyra, and he knew this decision would only drive a deeper wedge between them. But he couldn’t back down. Not now.

“This is the way things are done, Rhaenyra,” he said, his voice calmer but still resolute. “You must understand that everything I do is for the good of the realm. You will be queen one day, and this marriage is essential to securing the stability of your future rule.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her jaw clenched in defiance. “I will never marry Jason Lannister,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the force of her determination. “Never.”

Before Viserys could respond, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the chamber, her footsteps heavy with anger. The guards at the door flinched as she passed, their eyes wide with alarm at the sight of the princess so visibly enraged.

“Princess!” Ser Criston Cole called out from down the corridor, his voice filled with concern as he hurried to catch up with her. He had been waiting just outside the king’s chambers, listening to the raised voices within. Now, seeing Rhaenyra’s furious expression, he knew something terrible had happened.

She didn’t stop, didn’t slow her pace as she marched toward her chambers, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to control the storm of emotions inside her. Ser Criston followed her closely, his armor clinking with every hurried step.

“Princess, please,” he said gently, though there was an edge of urgency in his voice. “What happened? What has the king said?”

Rhaenyra didn’t answer. She couldn’t. If she spoke, she feared the anger boiling inside her would explode in a way she couldn’t control. Instead, she pushed open the door to her chambers with more force than necessary, the wood creaking under her hands.

Once inside, she finally stopped, her back to Ser Criston as she stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving. She was shaking, her body tense with the intensity of her emotions. Ser Criston, ever respectful, lingered just inside the door, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Leave me,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice thick with barely suppressed emotion. “I need to be alone.”

Ser Criston hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning her form for any sign of what might have transpired. But he knew better than to press her. He bowed his head slightly. “As you wish, Princess,” he said softly, before stepping back into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rhaenyra let out a shuddering breath, her entire body trembling with fury and despair. She paced the room for a moment, her mind racing with thoughts of rebellion, of defiance. How could her father do this to her? How could he expect her to marry a man like Jason Lannister, a man she had no love for, no respect for?

The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage, bound to a man who cared only for power and prestige, made her stomach churn. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Without another thought, she rushed to her writing desk, her fingers trembling as she grabbed a piece of parchment and quill. She had to reach out to you. You were the only one who would understand, the only one who might be able to help her.

Her quill scratched furiously across the parchment as she poured her heart into the letter. She told you everything—her father’s plan, the marriage she was being forced into, her anger, her fear. She wrote of how much she missed you, how much she needed you by her side now more than ever.

As she finished, she wiped away a stray tear that had fallen onto the parchment, smudging the ink slightly. She folded the letter carefully, sealing it with wax before hurrying to the window.

She could see the rookery from her chambers, the tower where the ravens were kept. She had used this method before, sending secret messages to you during your time away, but this one felt more urgent, more desperate. She knew that by the time the letter reached you, it might be too late. But she had to try. You were her only hope.

Rhaenyra called for her handmaiden, who arrived quickly at her command. “Take this to the rookery,” Rhaenyra said, her voice steady but filled with urgency. “It must go to my brother at once.”

The handmaiden nodded, taking the letter from her hands and hurrying out of the room. Rhaenyra watched her go, her heart racing with both fear and hope. She turned back to the window, staring out at the sky, her thoughts with you, wondering when you would return—if you would return before it was too late.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a tranquil oasis amidst the bustling halls and chambers, but today, there was no peace to be found in them for Rhaenyra. She sat on a stone bench, staring out at the delicate flowers and perfectly pruned hedges, her mind far from the beauty surrounding her. The announcement of her marriage to Jason Lannister had been like a thunderclap in her life, shaking her to the core, and her heart was still simmering with anger and frustration. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let this happen, yet here she was, being forced into a match she despised.

The sound of footsteps approaching stirred her from her thoughts, and she didn’t need to look to know who it was. Daemon. His presence was as unmistakable as the swagger in his step, the kind of casual arrogance that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He appeared beside her, leaning against a tree with a faint smirk on his lips.

“You look like you’ve been banished to the ends of the earth,” Daemon teased, his voice laced with amusement. “What’s wrong, niece? Did someone steal your favorite lemon cake?”

Rhaenyra shot him a glare, her temper flaring. “It must be so easy for you to jest,” she snapped, her voice biting, “when I’m the one being bargained off like some trinket to marry Jason Lannister and be whisked away to Casterly Rock.”

Daemon’s smirk only widened at her outburst, clearly enjoying her ire. “A Lannister, eh? I’ve heard worse fates,” he replied with a lazy shrug. “Though I can see why the idea of being stuffed away in a gilded cage at Casterly Rock might not sit well with you.”

Rhaenyra scoffed, her anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t understand. It’s not just the marriage—it’s everything. It’s—” She clenched her fists in her lap, her voice trembling with frustration. “He promised me.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his amusement fading slightly as he leaned in, curious. “Who promised you what?”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, her voice low and filled with anger. “My brother. He promised me that he wouldn’t let this happen. He swore he would protect me from being forced into a marriage I didn’t want. And yet here I am, on the verge of being shipped off to marry a man I can’t stand.”

Daemon was silent for a moment, studying her carefully. His amusement returned, though it was tempered now with something more thoughtful. “Ah, so it’s not just the Lannister match that has you fuming,” he mused, his tone sly. “It’s that your dear brother isn’t here to sweep in and save you.”

Rhaenyra whipped her head toward him, eyes blazing. “He lied to me!” she nearly shouted, her voice filled with betrayal. “He promised. And now he’s been away for years, fighting at the borders while I’m left here, alone, to deal with this madness.”

Daemon didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes glinted with something akin to understanding. He knew what it felt like to be betrayed by family, to be pushed aside for the sake of duty. But he wasn’t about to offer her comfort—not in the way others might. Instead, he leaned back, his tone casual.

“Well, perhaps your brother had other matters on his mind. War does tend to make men forget promises,” he said, though the amusement had returned to his voice. “Or maybe… he didn’t forget at all, but simply couldn’t stop this from happening.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, trying to compose herself, though her hands were still shaking with rage. The thought that you might have been powerless to stop this was one she hadn’t wanted to entertain. She had put her faith in you, had believed in your promises, and now it felt as though that trust had been shattered.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, and after a moment of silence, she spoke again, her tone cooler, more controlled. “I heard about Lady Rhea,” she said, shifting the conversation. “A hunting accident, wasn’t it? Her horse fell, and… well, it seems you’re now free to marry again.”

Daemon’s smirk returned, though there was a darkness behind his eyes. “Yes, my dear wife,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It seems she brought her death upon herself. She always had an uncanny ability to make unfortunate decisions.”

Rhaenyra snorted, crossing her arms. “I’m sure her death has made your bride-to-be, Laena Velaryon, quite ecstatic.”

Daemon chuckled, the amusement dancing in his eyes once more. “Laena is a smart girl,” he replied, lifting his gaze toward the sky. “She knows what’s good for her. Besides, I doubt she’ll mourn Lady Rhea’s passing too much.”

Before Rhaenyra could respond, Daemon’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced toward the entrance to the gardens. “Speaking of wives, your new stepmother seems rather keen on finding you,” he said with a smirk, nodding in the direction of the approaching figure. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Rhaenyra turned to see Alicent Hightower making her way across the gardens, her steps tentative but determined. Rhaenyra’s frown deepened as she watched Daemon give her a mock salute before he walked off, leaving her to face Alicent alone.

Alicent approached slowly, her green gown trailing softly behind her, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were holding back from reaching out to Rhaenyra. “Rhaenyra,” she said gently, her voice soft but tinged with hesitation. “I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to… talk.”

Rhaenyra didn’t bother hiding the annoyance in her voice. “Have you now? Come to offer more congratulations on my impending marriage, or perhaps to check if I’m still in one piece?”

Alicent winced at the sharpness of her tone but pressed on, her gaze filled with an earnestness that Rhaenyra found both irritating and exhausting. “I wanted to know how you were feeling,” she said quietly, her words careful. “I know this marriage was unexpected, and I… I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Rhaenyra let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “How I’m feeling? You really want to know how I’m feeling, Alicent?” She turned to face her fully, her eyes narrowing. “I feel like I’ve been betrayed. Like everyone around me is conspiring to push me into a life I don’t want. And you? You stand there, pretending to care, when you’re part of the very system that’s caging me in.”

Alicent’s face flushed with hurt, but she stood her ground, her voice soft but steady. “Rhaenyra, I do care. I didn’t want this to happen either. I know you don’t want to marry Jason Lannister, and if I could—”

“If you could?” Rhaenyra interrupted, her voice rising with anger. “But you can’t, can you? You’re as much a pawn in this as I am. Except you’ve made peace with it. You’ve accepted your place, married my father, and now you think you can offer me comfort?”

Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she didn’t back down. “I just wanted to help,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

Rhaenyra shook her head, her heart hardening as she turned away from her former friend. “There’s nothing you can do to help me, Alicent,” she said coldly. “So don’t bother.”

With that, she left the gardens, leaving Alicent standing there, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.

The sun hung low on the horizon, lazy rays sprayed across the barren landscape of the Dornish border. The air was filled with dust and the stench of blood, remnants of the brutal fighting that had raged for many moons. Your men, tired but unbroken, stood along the ridgeline, watching as the enemy forces began to pull back. The Dornish army, once so bold and numerous, now appeared ragged, their numbers thinned by the relentless engagements, their morale shattered.

You stood at the crest of the hill, overlooking the retreating forces, Silverwing perched nearby, her gleaming silver scales catching the last light of day. Her low, rumbling breaths were the only sound breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the battlefield. Your hand rested on the hilt of Blackfyre, your eyes narrowed as you watched the disarray below, the remnants of the Dornish army attempting to regroup, though their retreat was obvious.

Ser Kevven Moriggen, a grizzled and experienced knight who had fought by your side throughout this campaign, rode up beside you. His armor was dented and smeared with dirt and blood, but his eyes still gleamed with the fierce determination of a man not yet willing to let the battle end.

“They’re pulling back, Your Grace,” Kevven said, his voice hoarse from days of shouting orders. He glanced at you, waiting for your command. “Should we press them? They’re vulnerable, and a final push might scatter them for good.”

You frowned, your gaze locked on the retreating enemy. The temptation to drive them back to their lands, to ensure they wouldn’t return for decades, was strong. But there was something hollow about the thought of chasing them now, after years of bloodshed. They were broken, their supplies exhausted, and to pursue them deeper into their own land would be a waste of men and resources.

“No,” you said firmly, turning to Kevven. “We don’t need to spill more blood on their land. If they cross back into ours, then we’ll engage. But for now, let them retreat. The battle is over.”

Kevven looked surprised, his hand tightening around the reins of his horse. “Your Grace, if we push now—”

“I said no, Ser Kevven,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for debate. “There’s no honor in cutting down a retreating army. We’ve held our ground, and they’re falling back. That’s victory enough.”

The knight hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded, though the disappointment was clear on his face. “As you command, Your Grace.”

You watched as he turned his horse around, riding down the line to relay the order to the other commanders. The soldiers, weary and worn, seemed relieved when the command to hold was given. They had fought long and hard, and the sight of the enemy retreating was a victory in itself.

The silence of the battlefield settled in once more, the distant figures of the retreating Dornish shrinking against the horizon. Your mind was heavy, not with the satisfaction of victory, but with the weight of the toll this war had taken—on your men, on the realm, and on yourself. You had been away from the capital for too long, and the thought of what awaited you back home stirred uneasily in your chest.

Just then, a soldier approached, his face dirtied with the grime of battle, his breath coming in short gasps as he saluted you. “Your Grace, a raven arrived. A message… from the Red Keep. It bears the Targaryen seal.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Targaryen seal. That meant only one thing. Rhaenyra.

Without hesitation, you took the small scroll from the soldier, your fingers trembling slightly as you broke the seal. The wax crumbled beneath your touch, and you quickly unfurled the parchment, your eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. Rhaenyra’s handwriting, urgent and pleading.

Brother, the letter began. You promised me you would protect me. You promised me you wouldn’t let them force me into a marriage I did not want. But Father has broken that promise. He’s ordered me to marry Jason Lannister, and I cannot, I will not do it. They are trying to take away my freedom, trying to take away everything we spoke of. You told me you would stand by me, and now I need you more than ever. Come home. Please, I beg of you, come home and help me.

Your grip on the letter tightened as you read the words again, the desperation in her plea cutting through you like a blade. You could see her in your mind’s eye—Rhaenyra, fierce and determined, but also vulnerable, trapped by the weight of duty and expectation. She had always relied on you to protect her from the worst of court politics, and now, you were hundreds of miles away, unable to stop what was happening.

You folded the letter slowly, your chest tightening with frustration and anger. You had promised her that you wouldn’t let this happen. You had promised to protect her, to ensure she wasn’t forced into a marriage that she didn’t want. And yet, while you had been here, fighting a war at the edge of the realm, they had moved against her, using her as a tool in the political games of King’s Landing.

Silverwing shifted behind you, sensing the change in your emotions, her low rumble filling the air as if to offer comfort. You closed your eyes, your thoughts racing. You knew you couldn’t remain here. You had to return. Rhaenyra needed you, and you would not fail her again..

As the sun started to set, you made your decision.

It was time to go home.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #rhaenyra x y/n #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x male reader #silverwing #the dragon's right

171 notes · View notes

moody-alcoholic · 6 months ago

Text

The Missing Piece

Chapter 7 - Boundaries

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. 2.5k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: Alcohol, mentions of sex, language.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You sit at the table your leg nervously bouncing up and down. Simon comes to sit down pushing a cup of tea over to you.

“Thank you,” you say blowing on it, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about this since Johnny mentioned we all needed to have a chat then refused to talk about it until after food. What if they think things are moving too fast? They’re already married.

“Right!” Johnny says standing up his palms flat on the table.

“I call this first official family meeting to begin.” He says way to enthusiastically for your energy level.

“Christ.” You hear Simon sigh next to you, you look at him his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. You smile sipping on your tea.

“We’ve all had a nice time but I think we need a debrief.” You cant help chuckling.

“You want a post sex debrief every time?” Simon asks Johnny who taps his knuckles on the table.

“I don’t have a hammer thing.” He says.

“Is this a court room or a meeting?” Simon asks. They’re winding each other up it makes you smile.

“It’s a meeting, casual, a safe space to air out all your problems.” Johnny says.

“Now first order of business, boring stuff out the way first.” Johnny puts a key down on the table moving it towards you, you pick it up.

“You’re welcome over any time,” Johnny says smiling. That’s not boring that’s a massive thing.

“Do you guys want keys to my place?” You ask looking at them, it seems only right, you have access to their home they should have access to yours.

“Up to you.” Simon says. You make a mental note to look for a key-cutter tomorrow.

“PDA! Now I love a good smooch in public but Simon’s all about that stiff upper lip, sometimes he won’t even hold my hand.” Johnny says pouting.

“Nothing wrong with keeping your private life private.” Simon says defensively.

“What about you?” Johnny asks turning to you.

“I don’t mind I guess, I can get self conscious easy.” You admit, Johnny nods.

“Okay we’ll work on that.” Johnny says.

“Sex, do you have any limits? No-go’s other then the obvious ones.” Johnny says looking at you.

“Eh, I don’t know I’ve never really done much other then the normal stuff.” You feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

“That’s fine, we can work it out as we go along, don’t worry we’re not going to do anything crazy. Plain old vanilla sex is also fine, besides Simon’s the kinky one anyway.” Johnny says winking at you.

“Sure I’m the kinky one,” Simon chuckles. Johnny rolls his eyes sitting back down in the chair.

“Anything you want to add?” Johnny asks Simon who shakes his head, then his eyes fall on you. You don’t know what to say, maybe now would be a good time to ask them to stop being so…nice.

“You don’t need to be so accommodating, if you guys need some time alone, I can make myself scarce. And I don’t mind paying for things, food and what not, and I don’t mind treating you guys, it’s the least I can do.” Simon’s hand finds your thigh as Johnny smiles at you.

“Don’t worry about that, you just being here is enough.” Johnny smiles.

“I need to make the most of it, when I get posted I could be gone for up to 6 months.” You say, your last post was 5 months after a month of probation. You could be sent abroad, it had been a while but it could happen, then you would feel even further away from them. Your hand rests on top of Simon’s hand, he squeezes your thigh.

“S’okay, we’re all over the place too, could get a call right now and we would have to drop everything and leave.” Johnny says. The thought of them leaving makes you sad, you know Johnny is only trying to help but it just fills you with dread.

There’s a pit forming in your stomach, their job is harder then yours more dangerous, they could leave any second then you might never see them again. Johnny defuses bombs, you’re not sure what Simon does but it’s enough that it makes him hide his identity.

The most danger you have ever experienced was a field hospital in a run down building in the middle of a war-zone, even then you were surrounded by soldiers who’s sole job was to keep the medical staff safe. You Squeeze Simon's hand, now you can’t imagine being without them.

“It’s very rare we get called like that.” Simon says as he moves his hand to hold yours. You look up at him, he must be able to see something in your eyes, his face softens and he brings his hand up to stroke your cheek.

“I never know where you go, how long you’re going to be gone for. If you’ll ever come back.” You say looking in Simon’s eyes. He kisses your forehead pulling you into his chest.

“I know I’ll come back I have the worlds best marksman watching my back.” Simon says.

“Yeah and you should see the things Simon can do with a knife, or a sniper, or a pistol.” You hear Johnny say. It makes you feel a little better, that they’re being so blasé about it, that pit is still there though as you pull out of Simon’s arms.

“How about we go out, get some food just chill? We can try out that new place on the corner you’ve been wanting to go to Johnny.” Simon says, Johnny’s eyes light up and he’s out his chair before he can respond. It makes you smile, you’re not really in the mood to go out but you you could use the fresh air, maybe a nice meal out will be good.

“You okay?” Simon asks as you stare off towards the bedroom.

“Yeah, I need to start bringing a change of clothes.” You say, Simon smiles.

——————————

The place is nice, not fancy or anything and there’s a cosy looking beer garden in the back Johnny excitedly leads you to. You sit outside under the strung up lights and Johnny leaves to go order. Simon reaches into his jacket pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.

“Sorry,” he says lighting it. “I’m trying to quit.” He turns his head blowing the smoke away from you. You move to sit next to him on the bench.

“I could get you some nicotine patches.” You say. He shakes his head smiling. Johnny comes out with a try of beer placing them on the table. You reach out picking one up.

“It’s 2 in the afternoon.” Simon says chuckling.

“Stressed?” Johnny asks sipping his beer. Simon sighs, Johnny winks at you.

“Simon only smokes when he’s stressed.” Johnny says as you take a sip of your beer.

“Not true, I smoke when I want to.” Simon replies. Johnny laughs, it’s a proper laugh and it makes your heart flutter. You look up at Simon who looks less then impressed, they’ve been teasing each other all day.

They start bantering back and forth until Simon finishes his cigarette. Johnny opens a menu and starts reading the options out, well the options he likes the sound off. Simon just says he’ll have whatever Johnny’s having. Johnny seems to see that as a challenge his eyes going back to scan the menu as a cheeky grin appears on his face. Simon’s hand finds your thigh again, you didn’t think he would be up for touching with the conversation this morning but you don’t mind it’s nice feeling his hands on you.

Johnny orders food asking what you want, honestly you haven’t been paying attention but you’re not hungry so you just order a sandwich. Johnny sighs ordering you a side of chips. You sigh but don’t argue. When the food comes out you switch to sit next to Johnny, you’re not sure why, but this whole relationship seems to be about finding what works, at least for now.

Your leaning your head on Johnny's shoulder his arm wrapped round you picking at the last of you chips which you’re convinced at this point he bought just for himself.

“Another round?” He asks as Simon finishes his beer off. Simon nods and Johnny peels himself a way from you collecting the glasses and heading inside. You smile at Simon, today has been nice, the food was good the beer warming your belly as the evening breeze is rolling in. You could almost say it was perfect. Then the sound of glasses crashing forces your head to snap looking for the source of the noise.

“What the fuck man!” There’s a voice shouting now.

“Sorry but you came out of fecking nowhere mate.” You hear Johnny’s voice, Simon is already on his feet moving to the back door of the restaurant Johnny had disappeared into a few minutes earlier, you gingerly follow after him.

“I came out the bathroom mate.” The man replies his voice still loud. You can see people turning to look, it feels like there’s a million eyes on you.

“What’s going on? You alright Johnny?” Simon asks as he reaches them. You look past Simon to see Johnny and a man both covered beer broken glasses on the floor.

“Yeah, I’m fine ‘e just came outta nowhere slammed the door in my face.” Johnny says .

“It’s okay, we’ll get you new drinks.” You look over and see a waitress with a mop in her hands waiting for them to move.

“I came out the bloody bathroom!” The man says as he takes a step closer to Johnny who holds his ground meeting the mans eye line. “I’m supposed to be going on a date, now my suit is ruined.”

“Shame, you wouldn’t want her to think you’re incompetent.” Johnny says, that cheeky grin on his face.

“Johnny.” Simon’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife, low and commanding. You feel hairs stand up on the back of your neck. Simon grabs Johnny's arm pulling him out the way as Johnny’s eyes follow the man until he walks past Simon turning to look at you.

“You okay?” You ask not really knowing what to say, his expression changes almost instantaneously when he sees you a smile appearing on his lips.

“‘Cause lass, no one’s fault!” Johnny says his arm wrapping round your shoulders leading you back to the table.

“Oi!” You hear the man call, Johnny doesn’t turn or stop walking.

“Alright, calm down,” is all you hear from Simon as you move out of earshot.

“Think Simon will be okay?” You ask as Johnny sits you down next to him, his arm never leaving your shoulder.

“Pff Simon, who spends his days ordering soldiers round, he’ll be fine.” Johnny laughs. “Between you and me he could use some practice in conflict de-escalation.” You relax into him not realising how tense your body has become, he kisses the top of your head.

“You stink.” You chuckle the smell of beer is almost overwhelming making your head spin. A few minutes later a waitress comes over with fresh drinks apologising for the situation, explaining that the builders installed the door wrong and it’s just been an accident waiting to happen ever since.

Johnny laughs it off telling her it’s no problem and he’ll pay for the replacement drinks. Simon comes back as she leaves sticking his hand in his jacket looking for another cigarette, he sighs muttering under his breath as he sits down.

“All good?” Johnny asks Simon who nods sipping his beer. I guess he’s out of cigarettes.

“Paid for his taxi home so he could change.” Simon says leaning back, his eyes landing on you, you smile at him. He seems tense.

“When I was a kid my dad dropped a pint on my head.” Johnny says trying to lighten the mood.

“That explains a lot.” Simon says seeming to relax after a few sips of beer. The sun is setting quickly now and wind chill is picking up.

Johnny promises you’ll go home after this drink.

——————————

As soon as you get in Johnny is rushing into the shower. You fall on the sofa with Simon as he flicks the TV on. You lay up against him stroking his chest.

“Is it true you get to boss people around all day?” You ask him.

“What did Johnny tell you that?” He chuckles. You nod.

“Price does all the shouting, I’m just there to make sure they listen.” He says.

“Is he nice Price, your boss?” You ask, you want to know something about their work maybe it will make you feel better when they inevitably go away.

“Yeah he’s nice, we go way back. He’s a good boss.” He says as he lands on the football satisfied he puts the remote down.

“I’ll go home tomorrow, I’ve got some errands to run, I could use a shower, and a change of clothes.” You say, but as you say it you realise how little you want to leave.

“I can come with you if you want, or Johnny can?” He says his arm stroking your shoulder.

“It’s fine you should really spend some time together.” You say not wanting to be a bother but at the same time that does sound nice having them just following you around. The more time you can spend with them the better.

“I doesn't work like that, if we want some time alone we’ll let you know, besides you were right this morning, at some point we’re both going to be back at work and then it could be months before we see each other.” You look up at him the pit reforming in your belly.

“I wish it wasn’t like this.” You let out a sigh. “I never used to care about deployments anymore. Now it’s different.”

“We’ll make it work,” he says, you turn your face up to look at him.

“Yeah. Besides, I’ll probably be stuck on some base again. You’ll be the ones on the front line.” You say.

“You’d be surprised how often we’re just sitting around waiting for the world to do something crazy.” You hum against him.

“Where’s the craziest place you’ve been?” You ask trying to move the conversation away from deployments.

“Urzikstan is pretty hectic. Nice place though.” He says.

“Oh hey who’s playing?” You hear Johnny ask as he comes down to the sofa. Simon plants a kiss on your lips as Johnny comes to sit next to you.

“Man city and Sheffield.” Simon says you put your head back on his chest.

“I forget do we like that one?” Johnny asks. Simon chuckles.

“Yeah we like that one.” He replies, going back to stroking your arm. Johnny scoots closer to you and you lay your legs on him, his arm reaching over to his fingers through Simon’s hair. Now you just hope and pray the world stays quiet for another few weeks.

next Banners by the-aesthetics-shop

323 notes · View notes

stillness-in-green · 27 days ago

Text

Finding Fascism in My Hero Academia (1/4)

Being a 4-part project to compare the Meta-Liberation Army, the Heroes, and the meta-narrative messaging of My Hero Academia to Umberto Eco's evergreen Ur-Fascism and its 14-point list of beliefs, ideologies, and cultural hang-ups that can serve as flashpoints for fascism.

This was inspired by ongoing aggravation with the crappy rhetoric used to talk about the MLA, especially in Twitter circles. I had already been thinking about writing this piece anyway, but some ragebait brought to my Tumblr inbox together with the massive letdown of the canon ending pushed me over the edge into what eventually ballooned into several months of work and thirty thousand words about how My Hero Academia makes some expressions of fascism really easy to spot while hiding others behind a double-thick wall of double-standards.

Read some excerpts below! Or read the first part on my Patreon, no membership required.

-------

Are the MLA fascist? How fascist exactly, and in what ways? More to the point, are they noticeably more fascist than the broader society in which they exist—the society Heroes fight to uphold!—with its indefinite torture prisons and its laws restricting bodily autonomy and its rampant discrimination against multiple different demographics of people?

To answer those questions, first we have to define our term: what is fascism, anyway?

The trick to that question is that “fascism” is infamously squirrely and difficult to pin down to a single, all-encompassing yet concise definition. Wikipedia has a dedicated page solely for definitions of fascism, entirely separate from the page for fascism itself. It contains a wide sampling of definitions offered by reference books, scholars, Marxists, Fascists themselves, and a number of others. At the bottom of the page is a subsection labeled “Fascism as an insult,” in which can be found the following quote from a writing by George Orwell in 1944:

“The word ��Fascism’ is almost entirely meaningless. In conversation, of course, it is used even more wildly than in print. I have heard it applied to farmers, shopkeepers, Social Credit, corporal punishment, fox-hunting, bull-fighting, the 1922 Committee, the 1941 Committee, Kipling, Gandhi, Chaiang Kai-Shek, homosexuality, Priestly's broadcasts, Youth Hostels, astrology, women, dogs and I do not know what else... Except for the relatively small number of Fascist sympathizers, almost any English person would accept ‘bully’ as a synonym for ‘Fascist.’ That is about as near to a definition as this much-abused word has come.”

It would be entirely possible for me to find definitions of fascism that would let me say, “No, the MLA aren’t fascist at all.” For example, over half of the definitions on the Wikipedia page mention some variation of nationalism explicitly: ultranationalism, militaristic nationalism, revolutionary nationalism, hypernationalism, or a more expansively worded version of “subordinating the individual to the State.” If you exclude the definitions offered by Marxist sources, who have a pretty different paradigm around fascism, that count jumps up to three-quarters! So if we’re operating under definitions used by people who have actually put in some thought and research, the MLA can’t even pass one of the most common, basic criteria: they are in no sense of the word nationalist.

Case closed! People on the internet need to learn what words mean, The End.

…But let’s go back to Orwell for a second. He also said that, while the definitions can be fuzzy, people generally know what they mean when they throw the label around. So, what do people generally mean?

I think the definition that most gets at that is a 14-point list that I’ve seen circulating around Tumblr for years, and has recently started to come up more frequently on my radar given the state of politics in the U.S. The list is part of an essay called Ur-Fascism written by one Umberto Eco in 1995. Eco grew up in Fascist Italy and researched fascism as an ideology extensively as an adult; his tack was to approach the roots of the ideology, identifying a number of commonalities that one could view as symptoms of or warning signs for the rise of fascism in a group—hence the essay’s alternate title of Eternal Fascism. Not every state or government described as fascist would possess all of these traits, but even a single one being present in a group could potentially serve as a point that fascism could coalesce around.

I have seen Ur-Fascism described as uselessly vague or overly broad, but the point is that it isn’t a definition of fascism itself, but a description of the kinds of mentality or circumstances that can give rise to fascist ideology. Given that I know for a fact Eco’s checklist does the rounds on Tumblr and thus may inform the understanding of any number of fans who are using the fascist label more colloquially than with an eye to strict accuracy, and also given that the MLA succinctly fails to meet a primary criterion for fascism proper, I want to look at them instead through the Ur-Fascism lens.

…Not just them, though! My whole spite-fueled goal with this project is to compare the MLA to the protagonist Heroes and the status quo they defend. In the writing process, this has stabilized into three relatively distinct considerations: both the Meta Liberation Army and Team Hero as presented within the story and, further, the meta-narrative of My Hero Academia itself.

---(...)---

Point 1: The cult of tradition.

Looking to the thinkers of the ancient past for wisdom, believing that there can be no (worthwhile) new knowledge/advancement because the “ancients” already knew everything of worth. Look particularly for historically discrete belief systems being falsely syncretized, the internal contradictions of the resulting fusion being ignored or massaged away in service to the desired narrative.

MLA: No. Their whole thing is looking towards the future of quirks and people “becoming who they were meant to be.” The only thing they’ve got going on in terms of past-worship is their veneration of Destro and his bloodline, but that feels less like believing in the supremacy of the old than it does just the supremacy of one particular martyr. They don’t worship him out of a sense of “older = superior”; they worship him because he had a view of the future that he was prevented from carrying out, and they’ve been taught to share that view of the future. They aren’t trying to return to an idealized past, and certainly not a syncretistic one, though they do become a syncretized organization with the League merger. This, however, is a practical matter of current alliances, rather than the more characteristic Ur-Fascist attempt to flatten the beliefs of discrete groups in the past to better play up their supposed superior wisdom.

---(...)---

Point 2: Rejection of modernism.

Rejection of the modern way of life, particularly the shifts that came of the Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, modern history revolutions (as in France and the U.S.), frequently capitalism, etc. The modern age is viewed as one of moral collapse leading to depravity. In the modern U.S. for example, we see the alt-right trying to roll back the social upheavals of the civil rights era; my readers may also consider, if they’re familiar with the phenomenon, Rome Bros on Twitter. In Japan, this has tended to manifest as veneration of the Emperor as divine and a desire to purge Japan of Western influence.

Team Hero: Human advancement at large is explicitly described as grinding to a halt during the Advent of the Extraordinary. All technological development, all culture, now seems to rotate solely around Heroes and how best to support them. However dire that state of affairs is, however, it’s not a result of Heroes/the current regime specifically rejecting advancement or modern schools of thought. I will come back to this, however; it very much fits the bill for a later point.

---(...)---

Point 3: Action for action’s sake.

“Action being beautiful in itself, it must be taken before, or without, any previous reflection. Thinking is a form of emasculation.” Reflects in a disdain for intellectuals/academics. Like the following point, this ethic exists at least in part because the cultural syncretism of Point 1 can’t withstand critical analysis.

Meta-Narrative: See all of the Hero analysis and kick it up a notch. The “act without thinking” mentality as a marker for Heroism is never seriously critiqued, examined, or undermined. It’s a plague in the Shonen Jump brand, I think, that “intellectual” characters can be good guys, sure, even in the main character’s nakama, but the protagonists are classically shounen hot-heads, with that hot-headedness being portrayed over and over again as more genuine, and therefore more admirable, than cool-headed intellect, which tends to get portrayed as compensating (unsuccessfully) for a lack of strength or faith at best, and evil manipulative cunning at worst. While Heroes as a collective may not believe in action for action’s sake in-universe, the fact that the characters who do uphold it as a value are the main characters becomes much more reflective of the meta-narrative ethos.

Indeed, it’s quite glaring to me that, while the planning for the raids is a great counterexample to “action for action’s sake” within the story, none of the kids the audience views as the main characters and promised symbols of a better and brighter future are allowed to take part in those plans. Rather, the kids merely act as they’re directed, without reflecting on whether the orders they’re given are good orders, much less whether those orders will actually lead to the aforementioned brighter future. The kids who were once willing to directly disobey the orders of adults have long, long vanished from the story by its end.

Read the rest here!

#bnha #bnha critical #meta liberation army #this particular section is a bit mla apologetics but I promise it does not last #bnha analysis #bnha meta #finding fascism bnha

93 notes · View notes

offtorivendell · 4 months ago

Text

Elain Archeron Week, Day 1: Visions

I've theorised before about how I think Elain's powers - specifically her Sight, but possibly other aspects of her magic, too - might work, with regards to her murky realm/the Void, the effects of light and even magical medicinals (could witchberries play a part instead of bloodbane?) so today I want to talk a little about why I think having such a useful power could be so meaningful for Elain.

ACOSF suggested that Elain was raised by Mama Archeron to have no independent thought; no dreams of her own, no goals bigger than her garden. She was to be the family's pawn on the marriage mart in their quest for power. Valued for her looks alone, not for what she could do.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match. Nesta had been twelve at the time. Elain barely eleven. She’d absorbed every word of her mother’s scheming, plans for futures that had never come to pass. - ACOSF, chapter 17

And then Azriel said this...

But Azriel asked softly, taking a single step over the threshold and into the sitting room, “What other?” Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. “The queen—with the feathers of flame.” The shadowsinger angled his head. Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” - ACOWAR, chapter 32

Besides the fact that Sight must be an incredibly difficult power to navigate at the best of times, I will always wonder how much it meant to Elain to hear she was needed for a skill. Something she could work at and contribute that went beyond the looks she was born with. Something that could - and did - allow her to prove her mother wrong when her own "maneuverings" saved lives at the end of ACOWAR.

Even before Elain understood what was happening, while she was still lost in her murky realm, she tried to use her visions to warn/help her family. One of her biggest contributions being her untrained doe eyes peering across the world, leading Feyre to the Suriel in ACOWAR, then of course everything that followed when she ignored orders to return to camp and ended up killing the King of Hybern and saving Nesta and Cassian, and massively weakening Hybern's army.

Our trembling fawn has a backbone of steel, I can't wait for her to shine and grow in her own book. 🌿

@elainarcheronweek

#elainarcheronweek2024 #visions #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #pro elain #seer elain #mystic elain #oracle elain #elain's powers #elainarcheronweek #elain archeron week #elain archeron week 2024 #acotar #sjm books #azriel shadowsinger #mama archeron #acotar theory #elain archeron theory #fanged beast and trembling fawn

94 notes · View notes

acetonelungz · 6 months ago

Text

Jaws

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4

Simon Riley was a whisper in the wind.

Rumors and wise tells of the infamous “Ghost” haunted every soldier, even those not on the opposing team.

He was scary. And not the little kid monster type of scary, scary as in he stood in the corner and watched you like prey. Scary in the way that everyone thought of him as a ticking time bomb. Expect for John Price.

“So are you in, Simon?”

“Ghost is in, Simon is gone.”

“Ah, right. My bad mate.”

And now he was here, in enemy territory aiding in the rescue of some soldier.

Simon was the type to not question missions and just simply get the job done.

This one was different though.

Why make a big fuss over some low grade soldier? Quite a bit of trouble over a nobody. His questions remained mere thoughts, as he wouldn’t question out loud his authoritative figures. Ghost also quite literally couldn’t give two fucks.

Following Price, he scoured the hallways, making sure to take down everything threat and security camera. Soon enough, they arrived at a heavily locked door.

“This outta be it.” Price whispered back towards Ghost. “Plantin’ a lil package.” He placed an IUD on the door and quickly found cover before an explosion sounded off.

Deciding to do double kill, he threw a flash bomb to curb any possible threats.

Upon running into the space, he discovered exactly what they had been looking for.

A little feisty brunette who attempted to kick him in the balls.

“I’m Captain Price and we’re here to rescue you.”

“Took ya fucking long enough.” Ghost chuckled.

“Whats funny fuckface?” He did not chuckle this time.

Price huffed a half-assed laugh while lifting her up by the arms, “Easy there, we’re just here to help and we need to leave asap.” With that he turned and headed towards the now torn up door.

She followed wordlessly behind him, as well as Ghost.

As they walked towards around the base, the bodies of soldiers could be seen all along the corridors and hallways. One in particular, was the guard from earlier. It took everything within her not to spit on his dead body, but rather she lightly kicked it. In return Price gave her a unsatisfied look.

“I think after what I’ve been through I can at least do that.”

He nodded without saying a word.

Soon enough they reached the massive tan military trucks just outside the base, only two were present which sparked confusion within the woman.

“How many of there were you?”

“What’d you expect a bloody army private?” Ghost huffed from underneath his mask.

This royally pissed her off.

She quickly got into his face, sneering “Actually it’s lieutenant, and for how many bodies there were I assumed there were more of you. Not an unintelligent question but rather an unintelligent response.”

“You have five seconds to get the fuck out of my face-“

“Okay you two.” Price quickly separated the two, focused on the woman while saying, “We need to be cordial if we’re going to figure this entire thing out. Once we get back to base there are many questions we need to find the answer to. The sooner we get back the sooner you can be done with this all. So knock it off and get the in the bloody truck.”

“Yes Captain.” They said in unison, the woman glared at Ghost while he remained unbothered. Realizing it wasn’t worth it, she dropped it and got in the truck.

‘My first interaction with people in six months and this is what I’m dealing with. One dressed up asshole who is awkward as a prepubescent boy and an old man who thinks he’s my father.’ She thought while riding in the back while Ghost rode passenger with Price driving.

“I forgot to ask earlier,” Price started, breaking the girl out of her thoughts. “Can you confirm your name and status?”

“Lieutenant Collette Swanson also known as Jaws.”

#cod 141 #gaz cod #soap cod #ghost cod #captain john price #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price

45 notes · View notes

stoat-party · 9 months ago

Text

Evaluating Which Details Pose Continuity Issues (yeah, it’s long, sorry)

I’m being relentlessly annoyed by (some) people mad at the show and by (some) people mad at people mad at the show, so let’s clear up where the issues are and aren’t so we’re not just talking over each other here.

Destroying the Strip

Obviously not a retcon. Retcons refer to previously-established events. Some people might have their own problems with it (I definitely saw it cited as evidence of a coordinated attack on New Vegas), but it presents no continuity problems.

2. What exactly is a vial?

I don’t think this changed ghoul lore. They can still go 200+ years without turning, or they can start turning as soon as they get ghoulified. There’s just a new plot element where they can stave off the effects of going feral for awhile if they take this mysterious drug - without the drug, the rules are still the same. The story was NOT clear on this, and it confused me, but if ghouls need drugs to stay sane, Oswald, Dean, Billy, etc. could not exist even if there’s a massive industry in vials of goop that’s never been mentioned before.

3. It took Vault-Tec decades to build all the vaults.

This is something I worried about because there couldn’t have been much time between the boardroom scene and the bombs falling (Janey doesn't age). But I think it makes sense if you assume the vaults were already built and they filled them with experiments afterward. It does leave the problem that some vaults were unfinished but Vault-Tec also dropped the bombs - why would they do that before finishing their vaults? It’s possible that they planned to drop them but got beat to the punch, or any number of other explanations. Clear retcon but not a huge plot hole.

4. House is worse than Caesar all of a sudden?

This one’s a private gripe of mine because House and Sinclair were not originally written to be Actual Sadists Who Hate Humanity. There’s also House’s mastermind prepper attitude toward the apocalypse, which doesn’t indicate that he had a hand in orchestrating it. While the change doesn’t conflict with the text as far as I know, it really changes the flavor of the game, but not as much as:

5. The Fall of Shady Sands

Let’s say that this happened after the first battle of Hoover Dam, so no continuity issues with their ability to win that. (That’s probably why they set it in 2277, so the NCR would have almost four years to recover before NV. As if Caesar wouldn’t have taken half of their land by then, even with his armies crushed, but ok fine he’s going through a divorce, he’s busy right now.)

But are you telling me that a country can lose a massive city containing much of its infrastructure, most of its central government, and ~5% of its population and still be trying to manifest destiny four years later with no mention of it?

Losing the Divide as a travel route almost crippled the NCR in the Mojave for awhile. Now, not only have they lost the Divide and their capital city, but one of their other biggest cities, the Boneyard, is abandoned and inhabited by an apparently-unaffiliated town. (Yeah, Los Angeles is big, but we don’t see any NCR or Followers despite three main characters traveling through it.) Even if there were still people there during New Vegas, how is the NCR still conducting a campaign in the east?

Also, who is Muldover and what’s her position? Why does she have raiders at her disposal? Is that really supposed to be what remains of the government? I get that some of this will be resolved later, but short of complete societal collapse, there’s no explanation.

We don’t see any of this in New Vegas. The president (who was in office in 2277) is still alive. No one mentions losing family in the explosion. Caesar, Ulysses, and House, along with the many other characters who complain about the NCR’s weakness and instability, don’t bring it up. People even mention the politicians in Shady Sands specifically. PEOPLE ARE MAKING JOKES ABOUT WANTING A NUCLEAR WINTER-

Now there’s a saving interpretation going around that “the fall of Shady Sands - 2277” refers to a metaphorical fall, and the explosion was later. I’ll accept this if I have to, but don’t pretend it’s not a strained reading. Every entry on the board is dated. Why would you date an amorphous event and not date the city exploding?

The explosion was nineteen years ago, and it had to be that early because Lucy and Norm don’t remember living there. (Not clear how old they are but probably in their early-mid 20’s.) The earliest you could place the event without it making no sense is late 2282, because with the time skips in DLC, the events of New Vegas are about a year long. Maybe you could put a gap between Lucy returning to the vault and the actual destruction, but not a five-year one. And if it was in 2282, Max would still be a teenager.

There are legitimate concerns here. Between House and the NCR, the show changes a lot about the main conflict of New Vegas. It’s not just side details.

Not telling you how to feel! Just don’t pretend nothing poses any problems and people are crazy for being concerned. I think the vibe right now is to dismiss me as a hater, but I hope you can see I’ve tried to make it all work. Continuity is really important in a multi-decade story, especially to writers.

I will be appeased by a respectful and thought-out New Vegas remake that preserves as much of the original continuity as possible and is also really good and costs $4. Thanks in advance Bethesda.

Edit:

6. Tatoes in the vaults

TATOES IN THE VAULTSSSS? THIS IS MASSIVE DISRESPECT TO THE LORE. EVERYTHING WE KNOW IS DESTROYED. UNFORGIVABLE.

(but yeah there shouldn’t be tatoes in a vault that hasn’t opened)(maybe norm and lucy had seeds in their pockets when they came back, sure)

55 notes · View notes

laurentgold06 · 18 days ago

Text

Golden Army

In the cold light of the arena, everything gleamed like a promise. Bodies clothed in gold, every fiber of their skin-tight suits stretched over muscles worked to perfection, moved in a silent, disciplined choreography. Nothing here was left to chance. Every movement had a purpose. Every breath was a step toward a shared ideal: to improve oneself, to uplift others, to elevate the Golden Army as one.

They were brothers, all of them. No hierarchy, no judgmental glances. Every role, every position in this sacred order, had a place and an equal importance. Some were built to lift weights that defied logic, others to run faster than the wind. And I, Laurent, the waterboy, was there to support them. No more, no less. This was my place, and I embraced it with a devoted, almost religious humility.

My chastity cage, hidden but visible under the stretched fabric of my golden shorts, was both a symbol and a choice. It spoke of my renunciation, my discipline. It was my way of contributing to the Golden Army, of erasing myself while giving all of myself. What I withheld, what I contained, was not a weakness. It was a shared strength, a sacrifice that made me the equal of these brothers who ran, punched, and pushed their limits.

Marcus had explained this to me on my first night here, months ago. “No one is more or less in this place, Laurent. Whatever you do, as long as you give everything, you are a brother.” Those words had marked me. They echoed tonight, as I moved from one brother to another, offering water, wiping a forehead, or simply being there, a constant, reassuring presence.

Samuel, his breath ragged after a series of sprints, grabbed the golden water bottle without a word. His eyes met mine, and I saw that familiar glint I had come to recognize in all of them: a silent acknowledgment. Not condescending, but fraternal, pure. He drank slowly, his throat contracting with each swallow, before handing the bottle back to me with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

“You’re one of us,” he murmured.

I nodded. Words weren’t needed.

When Marcus set down his weights, he turned toward me. His golden suit clung to his massive shoulders, his thick thighs, but it was his gaze that bore the most weight. He stepped closer, scrutinizing me as if searching for something in my eyes.

“You do more than carry water, Laurent,” he said, his voice low but gentle. “You remind us why we’re here. Why we push ourselves.”

He placed a hand on my bare shoulder. His warmth, his strength, were tangible. And yet, there was nothing domineering in the gesture. It was a silent embrace, a renewed pact.

In the Golden Army, everything was about balance. No brother was more important than another. The one who lifted the heaviest weights depended on the one who cleaned the arena at the end of the day. The one who ran the fastest relied on the one who carried the water. Brotherhood was everything. A chain in which each link strengthened the next.

When night fell and the training ended, I stood alone in the empty arena. My reflection in the mirrors showed a body tense, offered. My golden shorts, so tight they revealed everything I contained, were a silent declaration: my role was no less than theirs.

Here, in this golden fraternity, everyone gave their all. Not for themselves. Not to shine. But to make the circle stronger. United, invincible, brothers.

Ready to join the Team and be like Kit?All you need to do is contact our recruiters: @brodygold, @goldenherc9, or @polo-drone-001

#golden army #male transformation #golden team #the golden team #thegoldenteam #jockification #hypnotized #transformation #water boy

18 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 1 year ago

Note

Plot convenience? Or did Raven really not think about the fact Salem would come after her, once she possessed a relic?

neither. you gotta remember that raven is lying when she presents herself as singularly focused on her own survival. cinder took a shot at her and raven dropped her defenses to lunge forward and shout a warning to vernal.

in V4, she tries to get qrow to tell her if salem has the crown because: “i just want to know what we’re up against.”

when vernal asks her if she believes they’ll be left alone if they hand over the lamp, raven says “of course not. they’ll never leave us alone. once our purpose has come and gone, we’ll be discarded; salem only uses people until they are no longer useful. if we want to have any chance of defending ourselves against her, then we need this relic.”

“the creatures of grimm have a master named salem. she can’t be stopped, she can’t be reasoned with, and she will not rest until humanity crumbles at her feet.”

“i’m not helping oz, and i’m not helping salem. i don’t want any part of this!” but “this path won’t be easy for us, either, but we must do what’s right for the tribe.”

the point of keeping the lamp is to keep it away from salem. raven doesn’t especially want ozpin to have it either, because she knows he’ll just put it right back in a vault, but yang convinces raven to hand it over by declaring her intention to draw salem out and then fight back, which is exactly what raven planned to do.

as far as raven is concerned, if salem gets the lamp it’s Game Over. stabbing cinder in the back and absconding with the relic will incur salem’s wrath and provoke retaliation—raven doesn’t just know that, she’s counting on it.

here’s the bet she’s making: she eliminates cinder, locking salem out of the beacon vault, then slips away with the lamp in the chaos. the tribe is all packed and ready to move; salem’s forces are entangled at haven and will likely suffer defeat at the hands of qrow and his allies. they’ll need to retreat and regroup, giving raven the advantage. she also knows where their ship is.

so she moves the tribe—destroying salem’s people’s airship on her way out to hobble them—and digs in somewhere else, knowing that salem will come after her as soon as she figures out where raven is. cinder backed her into a corner before, but this time raven gets to choose and prepare the ground—or grounds, because she can use her semblance to move people or the relic or herself back and forth between n locations, where n is however many bonds she has within the tribe.

salem’s forces are primarily grimm, which raven can handle easily (see also: winter annihilating the swarming grimm in vacuo). with cinder gone, none of salem’s remaining agents will pose a serious threat; raven is a formidable enough fighter to go toe to toe with any of them without magic, and having magic tips the fight to her. if salem herself shows up, raven can portal out with the relic. she has a massive advantage in maneuverability that effectively neutralizes salem’s most overwhelming advantage; salem can’t be stopped, but raven can’t be caught.

salem can’t outlast an enemy who slips through her fingers like smoke every time she gets close—if she wants the relic, she’ll need to catch raven completely off guard and take her down in the first blow, which is going to be difficult when raven knows she’s coming, gets to choose the terrain, has a whole tribe of loyal followers to spread out and keep watch, and can use her semblance and a single ally in a strategic location to evacuate a whole camp in a matter of minutes or, if it comes to that, disappear herself in seconds.

like… genuinely. raven could keep that relic away from salem for years while inflicting very lopsided casualties on salem’s side. in a protracted war between an immortal capable of spawning armies of monsters and a group of guerrilla fighters who can fast travel, the guerrillas win.

she was planning to fight.

100 notes · View notes

1253abdullah · 5 months ago

Text

Two Birds In A Nest ch-9

Robin Vs Beastboy on AO3

"Titans, regroup!" Nightwing’s voice crackled urgently over the comms. "The building’s about to collapse! Get to the extraction point now!"

But Damian and Beast Boy were too caught up in their fight to hear the order. They were deep within the factory, surrounded by the last remnants of the robot army. The floor beneath them trembled violently, but neither of them paid it any mind. They were too focused on each other, on proving who was the better fighter.

“Watch your back, Damian!” Beast Boy yelled, shifting into a tiger and pouncing on a robot that was about to ambush Damian from behind. He tore through the machine with a savage snarl, his eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and defiance.

Damian didn’t miss a beat, driving his blade through the chest of another robot before spinning around to face Beast Boy. “I didn’t need your help,” he snapped, his voice edged with anger.

“Yeah, well, you got it anyway,” Beast Boy shot back, shifting back to his human form. He was breathing hard, his muscles straining, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to show off, you’d have noticed it yourself.”

The ground beneath them gave another violent shudder, and this time, Damian couldn’t ignore it. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. The factory was seconds away from collapsing completely, and they were still deep inside. They needed to get out—now.

“We’re leaving,” Damian said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned towards the exit, but Beast Boy grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“No way,” Beast Boy growled. “I’m not letting you get the last word. We finish this, here and now.”

“Are you insane?” Damian snapped, wrenching his arm free. “The building is about to come down on our heads! This isn’t the time to settle scores!”

But Beast Boy wasn’t listening. His competitive drive had taken over, blinding him to the danger they were in. He shifted into a gorilla, his massive fists pounding the ground as he charged at Damian. “Come on, faker! Show me what you’ve got!”

Damian’s eyes blazed with anger. This was madness—pure, reckless madness. But there was no backing down now. If Beast Boy wanted a fight, then a fight he would get.

“ I WILL, LOGAN” that wasn’t a human like voice, more like A roar, even Gar felt a shiver goes to his spine from hearing Damian’s voice..

#damirae #multiverse #rachel roth #robin #beast boy #damian wayne #raven #dick grayson #cyborg #koriand'r #teen titans #conflict #tension

21 notes · View notes

solarwynd · 5 months ago

Note

I feel like there are somewhat weird vibes spreading in the fandom now but can’t really pinpoint what it is. Like I’m so happy for Jimin and pjms, the results for this comeback are insanely good but it’s kind of getting quiet already? Is it just me? I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s not present and can��t celebrate with us. It’s like after all the good news fan’s engagement with everything kind of dropped for some reason. I remember how hyped and involved everyone was during the debut even after that horrible thing billboard did to LC and how everyone was doing their absolute best to keep the song on the charts for as long as possible. I don’t really see the same attitude now and it’s really surprising to me considering there are a lot of people who liked Who and Muse even better than LC and Face. Or maybe everyone just got more relaxed and it’s a good thing? What do you think?

A good and a typical thing. Good because we’re getting the tools we’ve been asking for and because WHO isn’t predicted to free fall in the second week from its sales being filtered out by a surprise rule change so we don’t have to stress as badly as we did last year. Which is definitely a welcomed change.

And typical because a lot of people are first week result workers only and have been since forever. I feel like with tools, some people become lax because they they don’t have to work as hard. Same thing happened with 7 and armys even though that song was pretty much on autopilot. But yea I don’t think it’s really a bad thing. For second week people definitely need to take it even more seriously than the first because we don’t want huge drops anywhere, but after that, a slow wind down is okay and expected. Armys and pjms combined can produce results as big as GP can but we can’t sustain it by ourselves nor do I think it’s entirely possible. And I don’t believe the atmosphere needs to be at constant high energy because that causes burn out quickly.

As long as we aren’t seeing massive 1M drops again, I’m not gonna be frantic. I wish WHO could’ve gained 2nd week on Spotify, but on AM we’ve been hitting new peaks and progress so that’s still great.

A MUSE + WHO recomeback just officially got announced by big army accounts for tomorrow, so hopefully Saturday we’ll see an increase.

17 notes · View notes

dailydegurechaff · 1 year ago

Note

Honestly, Zettour, Rudersdorf, Ugar, and Lergan all trying to co-parent Tanya is good culture.

Zettour is the indulgent one that's far too much like her for the other comfort.

Rudersdorf is the dotting one enabling Tanya and Zettour.

Ugar is the one that spoils her rotten with gifts and tries to invite her to his family's dinners.

And Lergan is the token responsible one whose attempts at discipline are sabotaged at every turn.

In my eyes, every character in the Imperial Army is just one massive found family dynamic. No you cannot change my mind.

I thought just a bit too hard about all of their differences in trying to take care of Tanya, and suddenly instead of drawing, something else came out. Oops. This isn't edited very strongly, very sorry.

Through the walls, I can hear the sound of voices arguing. It’s getting late, and I really would prefer to be sleeping right now, but here I am listening to the unpleasant sound of annoying old men. This sucks.

“I’m just saying, with the way you act sometimes, I find it hard to believe you have her best interests in mind!”

“Oh would you relax, Lergen? You really need to take that stick out of your ass, I’m only letting her have a little fun.”

It seems that tonight’s two combatants are Colonel Lergen and General Zettour. I sincerely hope it stays between just them, but I get the feeling my hopes are going to be for naught.

“A little fun? You’ve been letting her have unimpeded access to your wine cellar! It’s completely irresponsible—”

“Tanya knows how to moderate herself.”

“Does she now? She’s still just a kid, you know!”

“Well, even if she doesn’t, she’ll only make the mistake once after giving herself a horrible hangover.”

“Have you considered you may end up making her an alcoholic?”

Ugh. I’m not sure why they’re arguing in just the next room over like this. It’s not their intention I don’t understand, I’m pretty sure I get that part. I think they might expect Tanya to feel bad if she overhears them fighting over her, so they’re trying to shelter her from it. It’s a nice thought, even if doesn’t technically matter because I don’t actually care. No, the confusion I have is stemming from their choice of location. Do they know how thin these walls are? I don’t think they do because I can hear just about every word perfectly fine.

“Oh, don’t think you’re completely off the hook, Rudersdorf! While we’re on the subject of things we shouldn’t be allowing Tanya to do, you need to stop bringing her to live fire exercises and weapons tests.” Oh, it sounds like Lergen’s moved onto the next target to harangue.

Rudersdorf is quick to clap back and argue his defense, “What? Why? Do you really someone like her could possibly get hurt watching a few little tests?”

“Yes, actually! Because the second Tanya walks onto the grounds, everyone is clamoring for the famed ‘White Silver’ to participate!”

“That only happened once!”

“Once that you told me! I have it on good authority you keep doing it!”

“Tanya herself said she loves flying!”

“Yes, well, she doesn’t like nearly getting blown up by experimental weaponry!”

“Who told you about that?”

I’m wondering about that myself. Lergen honestly has the tendency to be a bit of a mother hen, so I’d avoided telling him about it. Really, it was also for his benefit as well as mine, the poor guy gets terribly sick when he’s anxious. I thought I was being merciful when I decided to tell only Zettour that I’d recently flown for Elenium Arms again.

Ah, wait a second. Zettour. He’s been suspiciously silent now, hasn’t he? He hasn’t said anything in a while, so he’s probably just listening to Lergen and Rudersdorf argue. Considering he was just getting reamed out for the whole ‘letting Tanya have wine’ thing, he’s probably enjoying the fact that Lergen’s anger isn’t directed at him anymore. I wonder if it was him…

“Oh, Zettour, you bastard!”

Ah, it seems that Rudersdorf caught on to the same realization I did. Now the two generals are going to argue. What a joy. Lergen at least has the decency to keep his volume at normal conversational levels, even if his tone gets rather accusatory. The generals do not have that decency, so this is going to devolve into a shouting match. I really do not want to, but I’m going to have to go out there and tell them to shut up, aren’t I?

Uger, the only person speaking at a low volume and therefore the only person who I can’t hear well, says something unintelligible. Following that, I just barely hear Lergen’s sigh and the resigned words, “Alright, go ahead…”

In the next few seconds, I hear footsteps and then my door opens. Colonel Uger appears in the doorway.

“Tanya… are you still awake?”

“Yes, sir. Did you need something?”

There’s a loud noise, like someone just slammed a table with their fist, and Uger hurries to step inside the room and shut the door behind him. It does very little to mute the din of the argument.

There is a beat of silence as we both listen. Uger looks like he’s cringing.

“It’s uh… Have you been able to hear this whole time…?”

“Yes, I have.”

“L-Listen, Tanya… you should know that this isn’t your fault. They love you, and want the best for you. It’s only because they care so much that they disagree—”

Knowing where this conversation is headed, I cut off the incoming lecture he’s about to give me, “It’s fine. I know they’re only arguing out of love for me.” A bold-faced lie came out of Tanya’s mouth just now. It’s not something I believe at all, but I also know saying that will end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Right… so long as you understand—”

“Oh, shut the hell up! What would you know about parenting?!” Uger’s kind words are unfortunately interrupted by one of the Generals yelling.

There is another awkward pause.

After a second, it seems like Uger has come up with a resolution, “Uh… You know, Tanya, my daughter has been wanting to see you again. Did you want to have a sleepover with her tonight?”

Yeah, I’ll take hanging out with a toddler over listening to this go on for who knows how long. You know it speaks to the maturity level of those old men that a little girl is more well-behaved than them.

Mind made up, I give him my assent, “Yes, sir, I think that’d be pleasant.”

“Alright, I’ll give you a second to get your things together while I go talk to them about the new plans.” With that Uger leaves the room, a stormy expression on his face.

Ahh, now they’ve done it. You know it’s bad when even kindhearted Colonel Uger gets irritated. It’s because he’s so compassionate that it’s always the worst getting reprimanded by him. If you can manage to piss him off, it generally means you deserve what’s coming.

I hope he doesn’t take too long guilt-tripping them, I really would like to go to bed soon.

#bonus doodle #ask #anonymous #youjo senki #the saga of tanya the evil #tanya von degurechaff #lergen #zettour #rudersdorf #uger #papa erich au #woah its writing for once #its short ok #fanfic #alternate universe

90 notes · View notes

deathmetalunicorn1 · 9 months ago

Note

*Living Apocalypse one day walks by goll talking about a story he then interrupts her.*

"That's not how I died. I fought an army...then while exhausted fell into an ocean and drowned. I believe one of Aphrodite's children decapitated my corpse and claimed he Defeated me."

-You and Goll were enjoying yourselves, splitting a massive kitchen sink ice cream sundae between the two of you, as she had wanted to know more about your past battles.

-You agreed, but only if she helped you eat this mountain of ice cream, which made her cheer loudly. You were always soft on Goll, treating her like a little sister, mainly because she was the youngest of the Valkyries.

-She asked you about certain battles that you had fought in, her eyes sparkling brightly as she shoveled ice cream into her mouth as you told her, a warm grin on your face between your own mouthfuls of ice cream.

-She brought up your final battle on earth, where gods had teamed up with humans to try to defeat the empire that you were fighting with.

-Goll was curious, “So Aphrodite’s son, Eros, he was the one who killed you right?”

-You were confused, looking over at her, “What? No- I drowned when I died! I was the victor in that battle, I kept the opposing army back, but between them and the gods, I was exhausted, and I fell into a lake and drowned. That pompous little twit wouldn’t know the ass end of sword if it was shoved up his own. He cut my head off after he found my body, claiming he killed me.”

-Goll was stammering, worried that she had offended you, but was surprised when you grinned broadly, “I think we need to go and visit Aphrodite and her brat. But first- we’re not leaving until this is done!”

-Goll couldn’t help but laugh as you continued to eat.

-Elsewhere, Eros suddenly shivered as if a chill ran over him, his arms wrapping around himself, “Why am I so cold all of the sudden?” Aphrodite, hearing her son, came over, putting her hand on his forehead, “I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

-Neither knew the storm that was coming, just later, because you know, ice cream is more important!

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror goll

48 notes · View notes

bangtanhoneys · 1 year ago

Text

Well, the secret's out - Grace

When ARMY got the notification that Grace was going live, the app saw the biggest jump in traffic it had seen in awhile. The news was spread on Twitter, message apps, Tumblr and even TikTok. The reason for the massive buzz was this was the first time Grace would be live after the news of her and Seokjin’s relationship had become public knowledge via BigHit’s confirmation. So many many many fans were wondering if she was going to admit to anything.

“Hello everyone,” Grace grinned as she adjusted the camera. “I’m in the studio right now as you can see. And yes, I promise I’ve been working on my solo stuff. There’s plenty of news coming soon but I just wanted to come and say hello since it’s been a while.”

The trusty mug of tea was ever present and a couple of snacks. Unbeknownst to ARMY, she had been secretly preparing for her tour as well as a special BTS tribute show that no one knew about apart from the artists that had been selected. Even the artists attending didn’t know she was coming. So many exciting things were coming for everyone to enjoy.

“Noona, how are you doing? You look a bit tired,” Grace read one of the comments. “Thanks very much. I promise I am sleeping but I’m just very busy lately. So many exciting things coming for you guys but you have to wait a bit. My time is coming.”

That sent off a spiral of suggestions with the boy's solo careers thrown in the comments as ARMY begged their Noona for a hint. “Ah sorry everyone, you won’t get any spoilers from me. That’s Namjoons job. But I promise I won’t keep you waiting too long.”

She rested her feet against the desk and pulled the screen a bit closer so she could read the comments. With a bowl of fruit in her lap with a hand holding onto the handle of the mug, she looked the perfect picture of unbothered. Completely unaware of what ARMY was asking for or very aware of what they were asking for, but letting them go for it either way.

“News? What news?” she asked, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “Is there news?”

Noona! Stop teasing! We all know now!

Seokjin! Come and collect your girl. She’s teasing us.

Ah she’s learning too much from Yoongi.

A small grin tugged at the corner of her lips but it soon disappeared, replaced by a ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. But it soon went away the moment a name appeared in the comments, causing ARMY and social media to explode.

‘Jagiya, give them what they want. They want all the gossip.’

Jin.

God damn it.

“Shouldn’t you be training?” she asked, ignoring the comment for a moment to play around in her bowl of fruit as if she was trying to find something.

‘I have a spare half an hour to come and torment you.’

“Thanks very much,” she sighed and grabbed a handful of grapes. “Okay fine. Gossip. Yes, the truth is out. Seokjin and I have been in a relationship since 2018. We didn’t know quite how to tell you all, the boys found out a lot earlier obviously, but someone leaked the information that I had gone to Seokjin’s ceremony which is for families only. So we had to come out and give the game up.”

She’s said it in such a matter-of-fact way. Like we should have known from the beginning.

Noona! You can’t just drop that on us like that.

How did the boys know quicker than us? How did they find out?

‘That’s for another night when we’re all drunk and you can handle the R-rated version.’

“Seokjin! You can’t say things like that! You’ll give the wrong idea!”

‘Wrong idea? I think you’ll find I’m quite correct.’

“ARMY, don’t listen to him. Training has gone to his brain,” Grace sighed as she finished off her bowl of fruit and placed it on the desk along with her mug. He was being such a menace and he could do it within the safe confines of his base without any repercussion from her or the management team.

Jinnie we need more!

What happened? What’s going on?

OH MY GOD! R-RATED VERSION!

‘Hyung, you can’t just come in and say things like that. Noona has a reputation to protect. She’s Korea’s noona.’ Jimin.

“Listen, both of you go away. It was me and ARMY’s time. I’m here to listen to their issues and worries, not gossip about my life,” Grace groaned into her hands which then sent another spiral of comments.

But noona, this is important for our health! We need to know more!

When was the first date?

First kiss?

‘First date was at the dorm and first kiss was at the dorm.’

AHHHHH!!!

“Well I don’t need to reveal anything, Seokjin is going to do that for us,” Grace laughed as she threw herself back into her chair as she threw up her arms. “Half an hour better come quickly.”

There was nothing more from Seokjin after that or Jimin, having decided it was better to retreat, so Grace was left alone with ARMY…finally.

“Finally. Anyway, I just wanted to say we were hesitant to reveal anything because we know what the media and everything else is like when it comes to KPop couples so it was trying to find the right time. Of course, anytime we have planned something then something else has happened like COVID, Butter then the military. But of course, we never planned to leave you guys out of it. If anything we wanted you to be included as soon as possible but we all have our insecurities and worries,” Grace explained with a small smile. “But nothing has changed. We’re still Seokjin and Grace, still members of BTS. Still here. Nothing will change.”

What are you planning, noona?

“Many, many things. But now isn’t my time. The boys have so much planned and I can’t wait to see it all. So I want you all to support them first and give everything they do a lot of love like you always do. My time is coming, you just have to be a little patient. But I will see you all, in person, very soon.”

#bts 8th member #bts additional member #bts eighth member #bts female member #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts fic

66 notes · View notes

undreaming-fanfiction · 11 months ago

Text

With This Ring (5)

Chapter 4 here, Ao3 here

“So. You and Wheeler.”

It was a poor conversation starter, but Steve didn’t blame Eddie. He was still half-convinced he was dreaming anyway, so why not indulge his dead friend with some gossip?

“Eh…yeah. Kinda. I mean, it’s not fully like that?” Technically, if he told Eddie about Nancy’s real partner, it wouldn’t be a breach of trust, would it? He promised not to tell a living soul and Eddie wasn’t technically living. Then again, they were climbing an insane number of stairs towards a menacing tower of some sorts, Steve’s ankle was throbbing in pain and his breath was coming shorter and shorter. “So…we were together. Stuff happened and we’re friends. Great friends. But we really don’t…you know. Don’t want to get married, but our families think it just needs a push. Or a hundred. So now…we’re just stalling. Until her birthday. Which is why I need you to pretend you’re...I don’t know. An evil spirit I accidentally raised and that you’ll let me go in a few days if I fulfill our contract or something. Or that we’re married in the afterlife or something in the meantime so they can’t just drag me and Nancy to the altar. Or both. Preferably both.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. His hair was still dark and full of dirt, but at least he managed to wipe his face. Mostly. “Wow. So you’re doing a decent thing then? Saving the damsel from an unwanted marriage? You’re the knight in shining armor on a majestic horse?” There was a prick of irony in his words.

“Sure.” Arguing would have been the right thing to do, but breathing was also nice. Jesus Christ, how many stairs were there? Why was the stupid tower the only way to the world of the living anyway? “Speaking of horses, you happen to see mine somewhere? Because I could use it for this trip to the bloody undead Everest-“

“Dramatic.” With a huff, he helped Steve up another crooked and dangerously high stair. “We do have a few dead horses around, you know. Friendly enough. But no saddles and trust me, those bones are not comfortable. So we’re stuck walking.”

There was nothing left to do but to grit his teeth, force his way through the pain, and pray that they would arrive at their destination soon. “Why the tower though?” Steve asked. “Is there some kind of a magical door? I mean, why is it…”

“In such a stupid place?” Eddie was laughing now and the memory of their lost friendship hurt almost as much as the injured ankle. “I asked the same thing when I arrived here. The thing is, Steve, it’s not a door, it’s a person. And unfortunately for us, that person is a massive recluse with tendencies to see conspiracies left and right. So persuading him to meet us anywhere else is not happening.” Wheezing, he pulled Steve to the last stair and wiped his brow. No sweat, just dirt, but old habits probably died hard. “We’re here.”

And what a “here” it was. The tower was even taller from up close, looming over them like a massive, crooked shadow. The windows glowed sickly green and there was a sweet scent in the air, so unfitting for the eerie atmosphere.

Before Steve could ask what the scent was, Eddie already knocked on the massive door and, to Steve’s astonishment, didn’t even wait for a response before moving back and looking defiantly upwards.

Steve hobbled on to join him. “What are you staring at? A window or…oh.”

“Told you,” shrugged Eddie and pointed at a massive eyeball that turned to examine the visitors. “Lots of security measures, trust issues, all of that. And before you ask, no, I have no idea how he got the eyeball.”

Before Steve could react, a screeching sound assaulted his eardrums. “And I wouldn’t tell you even if you asked, Munson.” The words came from an army-grade loudspeaker mounted onto the tower in a blatant disregard for its impressive age.

As Steve fought the ringing in his ears, the massive eyeball moved to inspect him closer and well, that was disturbing. He’d never seen an iris this vividly blue in his life, and, as he realized when the eye twitched to focus on his face, Steve found himself hoping he would never meet its original owner.

The eye retreated to its position above the door and turned back to Eddie. It seemed weirdly judgmental, for a single eyeball. “That one’s alive. He’s not supposed to be here. Are you out of your mind?!”

Eddie shook his head and gestured towards Steve’s bandaged ankle. “Wasn’t intentional, I swear on my guitar, Murray. Actually, I very much agree with you, Steve here isn’t supposed to be with us yet, but stuff happened and now I really, really need to get him back upstairs. And maybe join him for a brief trip to get some fresh air.” He poked the eye in a misguided attempt to playfully nudge it. “What do you say, oh wise one?”

The loudspeaker roared again, and Steve started wishing he’d packed his earplugs. His migraines had been better recently, not too many and almost bearable, but the high-pitched sound threatened to disturb the status quo. “Very sad. Consider me touched. But I have important things to do, books to sort. Can’t you bother someone else?”

“I’d love to, a wonderful idea! Now if you can just point me to the other creepy tower with all the magical tomes in the underworld, I’ll be on my way. And I have full faith in you not just blowing me off so I don’t have to bring my sweetheart, you remember Murray, the electric guitar you hate so much, so I don’t have to bring her over and serenade you every day at max volume until your skull cracks-“

Steve snickered into his palm. He was injured, hungry, tired beyond belief and engaged to a dead man while his real fiancée faced all the bigotry of American small towns, but he was also having the time of his life. He’d missed Eddie’s confidence, that wide, almost manic smile as he leaned towards the creepy eyeball, challenging it.

“Smartass.” Although the sound was far from ideal, Steve could hear the resignation in Murray’s voice. “Stay there. I’ll come to the door.”

With that, the loudspeaker finally returned to being blissfully quiet.

Eddie stayed still for a moment, making sure the eye could no longer see him, and then broke into a victory dance. “Hell yeah. Persuasion, baby.”

His enthusiasm was as radiant as ever. Steve laughed and started clapping when Eddie finished his twirling in a theatrical bow. “Fantastic work.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” grinned Eddie and leaned against the door, tapping his fingers on the heavy wood. “Getting Murray to open that door is a heroic feat, if I do say so myself.”

“So what’s his story? Did he just drop dead one day and find a perfectly good uninhabited tower here?”

“Errr…no.” Eddie’s hand twitched and he reached to the back of his head, smoothing the hair over the old wound. “The thing with him is – I don’t blame him for being so paranoid. The way you die, it...it’s not easy to get over it, for any of us. And Murray, he was crazy reclusive for most of his life. Then he got into conspiracy theories. He’d jump at every scrap of information he could find, obsessing over it for days. When he was convinced he got it right, he'd go to the Hawkins police.”

A frown furrowed Steve’s forehead. “Let me guess. They never took him seriously.” Just like when you disappeared, he thought with a pang of bitterness.

Eddie nodded. “Bingo. But Murray knew he was right. Or…thought he was. And his biggest revelation was that there was a secret Russian base under the old mall. Starcourt.”

“The one that burned down?” Steve was just a kid during the time of the Starcourt tragedy, but he remembered the smell of smoke, the sirens, missing posters that would gradually turn yellow and brittle. Hawkins never forgot and ever since the mall’s ruins got torn down, no one ever attempted to challenge the variety of specialized shops in the center of the town. The police rookie Jim Hopper emerged as a local hero from that tragedy, but apart from his name, Steve couldn’t remember anyone else connected with it.

Another nod and a scowl this time. “Oh yeah. The thing is – when no one took him seriously, Murray decided to take things into his own hands. You won’t believe this, but the base was real – and Murray snuck in between crates masked as an ice cream delivery. He managed to bluff his way into the base – he speaks Russian, the crazy bastard – and somehow made it to the core of the operations or whatever you want to call it. Unfortunately, that’s where his luck ran out. The head scientist caught him taking a picture as a proof and confronted him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. To make things even better, the guards in that base thought the scientist was the one who let Murray in, and they shot them both, no questions asked.” Eddie spread his arms for the grand finale. “And so Murray made it here with a bunch of bullet holes in his chest and a new Russian acquaintance who couldn’t speak a word of English and refused to…you know. Not talk. He’s also here. And don’t tell Murray, but I think they’ve become friends. Kind of.”

“…okay. That’s…” Steve was closing and opening his mouth, searching for words. But apart from what the fuck, he couldn’t think of any.

“A lot?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s messed up in so many ways. But that still doesn’t explain the tower.”

As Eddie took a deep breath to continue the story of Murray’s life and death, the heavy door swung open and revealed a balding skeleton. Steve never thought there could even be a balding skeleton, but this one stubbornly held onto his remaining hair and beard, or more precisely, what was left of them. It probably wasn’t a good idea to bring it up. Or the fact that he still wore glasses, even though he had no ears to hang them on.

“Aren’t you a nosy one, Stevie,” he said and stabbed both visitors with a suspicious look.

It might have been menacing to Steve, but Eddie just laughed and took a step forward, patting Murray’s shoulder…blade. Or another bone in that area. “Really, Murray? Of all the people in the world and beyond, would you be the one blaming others for their curiosity? I know you, you’re no hypocrite.”

Their host just shook his head and ushered them both in. “If you know me that well, you can tell the damn story yourself. I’ll have to get the elevator running since your friend here can hardly walk. My office is on the top floor.”

“Oh god. Thank you,” breathed out Steve. He wondered how long his leg would take to heal. Normally he’d be up and running in a few days, but he wasn’t able to give his injury any rest at all.

Murray disregarded his words of thanks, examining the rusty mechanism of a heavy metal platform resting on the first stair. There was a crank handle attached to the handrail and he started slowly moving it, swearing in at least three languages at the resistance it was giving.

“So. The tower,” said Eddie, or rather shouted over the sounds of Murray’s insults and the rusty handle creaking. “There actually was a real...well. An assigned keeper of this tower, even before Murray and Alexei arrived here. He’d refused to move on and safeguarded all this knowledge.”

Murray kicked the stubborn handle. “Hoarded, more like. The old fart refused to share.”

Eddie snickered. “Right. Unfortunately for him, this afterlife works in conditions. If you want to make double sure you move or don’t move on, you set a condition for yourself, as in - I’m not going until I see my wife again. When she dies and arrives here, you...leave. Not sure where, but you continue your journey. Our former lore keeper was very, very old. He set a condition that he thought would never happen.”

Steve was so immersed in the story that he failed to notice that Murray’s efforts started paying off. “What was it?”

“I’ll move on when a man walks on the moon,” wheezed Murray and finally turned the crank enough for the platform to start moving towards them. Or at least that’s what Steve assumed from the screeching sounds from the top of the staircase.

“...but that was years ago?”

Murray nodded and leaned against the ancient wall, tapping his fingers as if he could speed up the machinery. “Right. But no one told him. He was useful to have around, they used to say. I, on the other hand, believe that a man should have all the information. It was unfair that he was kept in the dark.”

“And having a free library full of spells, curses and incantations didn’t hurt either,” muttered Eddie.

Murray graciously decided to ignore him in favor of the platform that finally stopped with a deafening screech in front of them. “You make it sound so easy. You should have seen it when we took over, it was...” The torn muscle next to his eye twitched.

“A mess?” offered Steve.

“A paper tower of Babel more like.” Ushering Steve in with more care than he’d expected of the dead researcher, Murray gestured at Eddie to follow. “Imagine all the spells, curses, incantations, chants, everything magical ever invented, in all languages, fonts, with tons of spelling mistakes and pictograms that you’ve never seen in your life. All of that and no notes on which spell is in which language. And of course, you need to verify if it works before you catalog it.”

Eddie leaned against the rusty railing and crossed his arms. “Wait. That half-dead, fully monstrous bat thing that got caught in Benny’s window? That was yours?”

“Might have been.”

“And the walking candle screeching Latin prayers?”

“That too, but that one was a success.” There was a hint of pride in Murray’s voice, as if anyone should aspire to whatever that experiment was. “I assure you, we have everything under control. Compared to before, I mean. Now, I suggest you close your mouths if you value your tongues intact, just one more turn of that stupid crank, and...”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH.

“Up we go!” yelled Murray over the sounds that no machine ever should have made.

The “up” was indeed very high up. The platform was moving fairly slowly, but since the tower was so narrow, Steve’s head had started spinning by the time they arrived to their destination. Around halfway up, he’d started wondering if things would be better if he was already dead, but one look at Eddie’s firmly pressed together lips and an even firmer grasp on the rusty railing told him that no, this was an universal experience. Only Murray seemed unaffected, hopping off the platform with an annoying vigor. “Well, come on then. We don’t have all day.”

“I sure hope they have a bucket up here,” muttered Eddie and took a wobbly step down.

Steve could only swallow hard and will his afternoon snack to stay where it was. He clung to Eddie’s shaky frame as he joined the two dead men in a...wow.

The room was massive. Either the tower was so tall the perspective made the top seem so small, or it must have been magically made bigger. Because there were just so. Many. Books. Piles and columns of them were lying all over the room, a massive oak desk included. And on the tallest pile of papers was a massive raven, eyeing the three of them with a menacing expression.

“That’s Alexei,” waved Murray towards his feathered assistant. “Alexei, this is Eddie and Steve.”

Steve watched in amazement how Alexei’s dark wings spread and he swooped down, finding a comfortable spot on Murray’s shoulder. “Uh. Hi, Alexei. I thought...” Steve’s eyes sought Eddie’s for answers.

The other man just shook his head. “Don’t ask me. The last I’ve heard, Alexei was human.”

“Oh, he was.” Murray was trying very hard to appear unbothered by the sudden weight on his shoulder, but the slowness of his movements and the unsuccessful attempt at balancing his hips gave it away. “Until last...uh. May, I think. We were cataloging a fascinating transformative spell. It worked fantastically.”

Against his better judgment, Steve took a step forward and examined Alexei more closely. His feathers were beautiful and dark, save for a ruffled spot on his chest. It bore a disturbing resemblance to the wound on Eddie’s head. “Can’t you turn him back?” he asked.

“Oh, we can,” shrugged Murray,or at leat attempted to. Alexei’s weight didn’t allow much movement in his shoulder. “We just chose not to. His intelligence is intact. And his wings are wonderfully useful in navigating this...chaos.”

“Good. Good with high shelves,” croaked out Alexei. “Murray. Chto eto byl za shum?”

“Etot duratskiy lift.” Noticing Steve and Eddie’s confused expressions, Murray gestured towards the raven. “What? Do you think the scientists in the Soviet Union learn English? Easier for us to learn Russian. Still, he’s made a lot of progress and he understands almost everything, so be careful what you say. Now, what was it that you wanted?”

Suddenly, Eddie didn’t seem so confident. “Uh, yeah. I’d like to send Steve here back upstairs because...you know. He belongs there. And I will accompany him because I...” he trailed off, his eyes focusing on a random pile of old parchments. “I think I’ll be able to move on afterwards.”

That caught Murray’s attention. With a pained huff, he settled Alexei onto the desk, and shook his head. “Are you sure? Because you know how that works. There’s no I think, if you think this is it, we have to do it the proper way. You’ll say the words, go upstairs, do what you need to do and...that’s it.”

Eddie nodded, still avoiding everyone’s gaze. “Yeah, I know. It’s not what I thought it’d be, but...you know. I don’t want to go back down there, waiting for god knows what. So I’ll take that chance.”

“Wait wait wait.” Steve grasped Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him hard enough to force his eyes back to him. “What do you mean? Care to enlighten me?”

“None of your actual business, Harrington,” he snapped and moved to the side, out of Steve’s reach.

“It kind of is. He’s helping you do it, after all.” Murray started rummaging through his desk, trying and tossing away a bunch of dried out ball pens. “Those conditions Eddie mentioned before? Just saying it isn’t enough, you sign a contract if you want it to be binding. Even if what you end up doing doesn’t fill that emptiness, you are obliged to go. And it seems that Eddie’s ready.”

“Is he now?”

Several things happened at once. Murray dropped a fistful of pens and pencils, Steve turned around so quickly he lost his balance and had to lean against the desk, Eddie forgot to be mad at Steve and reached out to stabilize him...

And Alexei calmly tilted his head, nodding at the new arrival. “Bob.”

“Hi, long time no see.” He waved his hand, the healthy looking one, if that can be said about a corpse. “The door was open, so I let myself in.”

Murray shot him a nasty look. “It wasn’t open.”

Bob’s smile was unflinching and innocent. “It wasn’t locked properly enough. Now, I’ve come to volunteer to speed up the spell sorting, there’s little to do around here otherwise and I’m bored out of my mind. I offer several languages, a knack for puzzle solving and...” he reached into his shoulder bag, “a bribe for the master of the house.”

In his hand was a jar of cherries.

Murray’s expression was not amused. “You’re joking.”

“Only partially.” With one more rummage through his bag, Bob produced a bottle of vodka. “Better?”

The researcher’s face split into a wide grin. “Absolutely. You’re hired, but I’m watching you.” The bottle disappeared behind his desk so fast it seemed like a magic trick. Now...to our lovebirds here. Are you ready to sign, Eddie?”

“Sure fucking am,” he muttered, taking a step forward. “My terms are: I record my music and send it to my contact, Craig in Indianapolis, with potential royalties, rights, whatever...to Wayne. When it reaches him, I can go. Good enough?”

Murray nodded, scribbling down the conditions. “Good. Sign here and then we can proceed with the teleportation spell. Alexei, can you please fetch-”

“Cherry,” the raven croaked and pecked at Murray’s shoulder.

This apparently wasn’t a new conversation for them. Murray didn’t seem surprised, only mildly annoyed. He rubbed his eyes and gestured towards the massive bookcase. “Get the damn book, will you? And then you’ll get your cherry.”

Alexei shook his head, the black feathers shining in the lamplight. “No cherry, no deal.”

“See what I have to work with?! Extortion, that’s what this is.” Despite his grumbling and complaints, Murray quickly opened the jar of cherries and tossed one towards Alexei. He immediately gobbled it down and blinked at his annoyed undead friend.

Stretching his wings, he prepared for a takeoff. “Good cherry. What shelf?” he asked Murray.

With a bony finger stabbed in the massive list on his desk, he pointed towards his left, way too high for anyone without a ladder to reach. “Section 21, shelf G, dark green, contained mold stains. Plane traversal and the issue of materialization.”

Alexei croaked in response. With a strong flap of his wings, he rose from the desk and scattered around several parchments. Before Murray could gather all of them and finish his string of curses, the raven was back, the book in his talons. “Not right. Shelf F,” he pointed his beak accusingly at the offending bookcase.

Murray scratched out a part of his long list. “Noted. OK, so...short term revival spells, transportation between planes of existence, portals...”

“Are there long term revival spells too?” asked Steve. He went for an uninterested tone, but his heart was beating like crazy. Maybe this library could save Eddie where he’d failed. He could see Wayne again, could conquer the world with his music. Maybe with the right book, the right spell, he could-

“Sure are,” snickered Murray, still buried nose deep in the book. “Plenty of them, a bunch per every culture. The thing is - they’re either risky as hell, bringing back zombies, skeletons and all that, not the local ones but nasty, soulless creatures. Or they require some really ugly sacrifices. No one here would even dare to ask for such a spell, believe me. It’s the one good rule that’s worth keeping, try to move on, not back. Even though I see where you’re coming from,” he added, not unkindly.

Steve’s chest felt heavy with desperation. He wasn’t the sharpest one, sure, but still...what good was all that knowledge when it couldn’t even save one single person?

He only realized he said it out loud when Alexei landed next to him and nudged his shoulder with his beak, which was equally comforting and weird. “Not fair. But trying to make it fair...er.”

Murray only shrugged his shoulders. “What he said. As much as we’d love to unleash every single curse here no matter the consequences, we have a certain responsibility. Now, if Eddie’s done signing...let me send you up. We’ll come collect you when the contract is fulfilled. You should take your friend with you, just in case something goes wrong.”

Steve frowned at him, confused. “But…I’m going already?”

Bob laughed and poked Eddie’s shoulder. “The other friend. You really suck at introductions, Eddie.”

“He was sleeping,” grumbled Eddie, but he opened his jacket and gently removed something small and fluffy from his chest pocket. Something that looked…like a bat.

The bat squeaked at Eddie and it sounded delightfully annoyed. It nuzzled into Eddie’s palm and Steve could just imagine the tiny creature slapping a ringing alarm clock, forcing it to let it sleep for five more minutes.

Eddie extended his hand towards Steve. “This is Ozzy. He understands everything, he’s probably smarter than both of us. But he doesn’t like to speak.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. Reanimated dead, short trips between planes or whatever that was, a corpse town underneath Hawkins, talking cats, Russian scientists turned into ravens, and now a smart bat who refuses to speak? Sure.

Murray gleefully ignored Steve’s inner turmoil. “That should do it. Ready?”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Eddie simply nodded. “Yeah. Let’s breathe some fresh air.”

With a snap of Murray’s fingers and an incantation in a long dead language, they were gone.

When the dust settled on the creaky floor of the tower, Bob smiled at the disgruntled researcher and stretched his hands. “Now, shall we start? We have a lot to do.”

Chapter 6 here

#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steddie au #steddie fanfiction #corpse bride au #corpse groom eddie #steddie big bang 2023

19 notes · View notes