#Hath-Set

[sebeth]

All-Star Squadron #10, 11, 12 (Revised 1/28/24)

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

All-Star Squadron #10 – 12 by Roy Thomas, Adrian Gonzales, and Jerry Ordway

“If An Eye Offend Thee!”

The issue opens in San Francisco. It is early January 1942 and Hawkman has snuck away from the military base for a late evening flight. Carter notes he feels guilty for taking a “joy ride” while regular citizens are bracing for gas rationing. I enjoy Roy’s additions of historic details of life in the United States during World War II.

Carter’s guilt can be assuaged as his wings don’t require gas.

The majority of the Justice Society retired their heroic identities to enlist in the various branches of the military.

Carter joined the Air Force and is set to make “pilot in record time” but “it’s liable to be months before I’ll see action in the army air force.”

Hakwman witnesses a fleet of B-17 Bombers arriving at the base from Randall Field, Texas.

Carter muses: “Those flyboys will do America a lot more good than one former playboy swooping around in a beaked masks and wings.”

“Speaking of former playboys, I just remembered Randall Field’s where Starman – Ted Knight – is based. I wonder if he might be – no, not likely. He couldn’t have his officer’s commission yet.”

Carter is wrong, as Ted is flying one of the planes. Ted’s co-pilot can’t get over how fast he made pilot status.

Ted suspects his co-pilot feels Ted’s money cut through the red tape but, in fact, as Starman, Ted has been “flying high for a year now.”

I’m not sure how flying under your own power allows easy mastery over flying a plane but I’ll go with it.

Starman admits missing using his gravity rod to fly under his own power. Ted is in one of the B-17 fleet bombers that Carter is flying next to.

A flying UFO appears out of nowhere, “glowing so blindly I can barely look at it.” The UFO attacks the planes.

A plane plummets to the ground. Hawman races after, knowing it’s futile, but hoping his Ninth Metal harness can stop the impending crash.

Fortunately for Carter, Ted makes excuses to head to the back of his plane. He promptly changes into his Starman costume, grabs his gravity rod, and exits the plane.

A relieved Hawkman has Ted save the plane while he prevents the UFO from attacking more planes.

An unconscious man falls out of the UFO. The UFO flies away to parts unknown.

Starman has to get back aboard the plane but Carter wants to know how Ted made pilot so fast.

Ted: “I got the President himself to fix it up for me.”

Ted admits he hates “using our ‘in’ with F.D.R.” but “winning this lousy war that’s important” and he would “mangle every rule in the book” if he had to.

Carter realizes he needs to return to base before he’s reported A.W.O.L. but first he needs to find help for the unconscious man. Unfortunately, the man dies in his arms before Carter can reach the ground.

Carter believes he knows the dead man and if it’s who he thinks it is “the secret behind that ‘Flying Eye’ may be even more sinister than I’d imagined.”

A caption box informs us we’ll have to wait an issue or two before discovering the full meaning of Carter’s words.

I enjoyed the quick check-in with Hawkman and Starman. The military enlistment was used throughout the All-Star Squadron run to explain why the members of the Justice Society weren’t featured heavily in the series.  It’s still nice to have the occasional appearance from a Society member.

We switch to Washington DC.

The Shining Knight, Hawkgirl, and Johnny Quick are careening past the Washington Monument.

I still don’t understand how Shiera hasn’t died of hypothermia while fighting crime in a bikini top during an East Coast winter.

I don’t have a problem with certain female super-heroes fighting crime in swimsuits, hot pants, or skirts. For example: She-Hulk, Supergirl, Power Girl, or Mary Marvel. All four women are mostly invulnerable and largely immune to temperature extremes. If it’s true to their personality, those women can wear what they want – they don’t have practical concerns to worry over.

However, women like Black Canary, Huntress, and Hawkgirl are neither invulnerable or immune to temperature extremes. Their costumes should reflect their need to protect their body from physical harm.

Side-note: Huntress’s abdomen-baring, hot-pants costume was one of the most idiotic outfits of all time. Both for the reasons listed above and because shorty before its debut, Helena was shot multiple times in the abdomen by the Joker. And the life-saving surgery was performed in Gotham during No Man’s Land. There was no plastic surgeon nearby to minimalize the scars. Yet no artist ever drew Helena with a scarred abdomen. Stupid!

Johnny compliments Shiera on the design of her new mask.  Shiera took the time to modify her mask but not to add sleeves to her top? Okay.

Johnny mentions he’d “better get some newsreel footage of all this, or Johnny Chambers is gonna be looking for a new job.”

Johnny is a cameraman for See’s All/Tells All News.

Sir Justin tethers Winged Victory and notices an unconscious man: “Here lies a man unconscious and he wears the regalia of an American soldier.”

Johhny has entered the Washington Monument in time to stop a sabotage attempt.

Johnny stops the actual explosion while Shiera and Justin deal with the saboteurs.

Sir Justin: “We thank you for letting us deal with these Nazis, Johnny Quick, for, in sooth, ‘twould be most unseemly to have let you fight the good fight unattended.”

Johnny: “Knight, you sure do talk pretty sometimes.”

The trio take the unconscious man (wounded guard) to the hospital.

Johnny mentions this is the second national monument he’s saved in a month and “I wonder how things are going out at Mount Rushmore?”

Hey, every hero needs a specialty. Superman fights alien invasions, Batman solves crimes, and Johnny Quick protects national monuments.

We switch locations to “one of the few American outposts in the distant Pacific Ocean which has not yet fallen to the Japanese juggernaut” where a “total blackout has been rigidly enforced for the past month.”

We have another check-in with a JSA member.

Dr. Charles McNider is on the island researching tropical fever. And he’s brought Hooty!

Charles serving in a research role for the military is a perfect fit. Charles wouldn’t be able to actively enlist in the military as he is blind.

Enemy planes and the “Flying Eye” attack the island. Charles changes into his “Dr. Mid-Nite” uniform to help the soldiers on the ground.

A solider is very confused: “Dr. Mid-Nite?! How the heck did you get over here?”

I understand Charles’ natural impulse is to change into costume at the first sign of danger but making an appearance on an isolated island is not a good way to maintain a secret identity.

The Flying Eye causes multiple plane engines to stall and crash. Fortunately, the pilots bail out.

The Flying Eye retreats and Charles heads back to his lab: “Better get back before my assistant Myra Mason notices Dr. McNider’s missing.”

Charles, trust me, Myra knows you run around as Dr. Mid-Nite. She may not say anything but she knows.

Did Charles use the “FDR card” in order to have Hooty and Myra accompany him? Myra is a nurse and Charle’s long-time assistant, used to working with the blind Charles, so she’s a logical choice to accompany him but Hooty?

I mean, I love Hooty, I’m just now sure how Charles convinced the military brass to allow his owl on the island.

We switch to the Russia’s Crimean Peninsula where the Flying Eye attacks both the Russian and the German forces and flies away.

Back to Washington. Robotman examines Steel. Robotman declares Steel free of any influence from Baron Blitzkrieg.

Firebrand accompanies the duo outside in time to witness the arrival of the Flying Eye.

The Flying Eye causes the hospital generatiors, along with Steel and Robotman, to shut down.

The Flying Eye heads to the White House. Firebrand along with a recovered Robotman and Steel race to the White House.

The trio arrive at the White House and meet up with Liberty Belle, Hawkgirl, the Shining Knight, Johnny Quick, and the Atom.

A shadowy, seven-foot man emerges from the Eye and battles the All-Star Squadron.

The man removes his helmet and proclaims: “I am Akhet, and I have come from the second planet of the star you call Proxima Centauri to annex this world, and all upon it, in the name and by the power of the Binary Brotherhood!”

The Fact Files at the end of the issue feature Starman, Liberty Belle, and the Atom. The only new information is Starman has never received an origin from his debut in the Golden Age until now but will receive one in an upcoming issue of All-Star Squadron. We’re told we will receive more information on Liberty Belle’s adrenal powers in a future issue. The fact file notes the Atom appeared in more Justice Society stories than any hero except Hawkman.

Up Next: “The Spaceman’s Sinister Secret!”

Akhet issues an ultimatum: “All of Earth’s nations must surrender that a united planet may be ruled by myself, as emissary of the Brotherhood. Any nations which resist – be it one or all – will be obliterated by such power as my starcraft has already demonstrated. You have one earth-day to choose between abject surrender and total annihilation!”

The All-Stars want to attack but Liberty Belle correctly states that they should wait for the President’s signal.

Half the Squad attacks anyway, and when it goes badly, the rest rush in to help.

Sir Justin, as always, has the best battle cry: “Nor shall any man or maid set a foot further than does the Shining Knight! Forward to the fray, Winged Victory!”

The fight doesn’t go well and Ahket, also known as the Star-Smasher, absconds with Steel, Hawkgirl, Atom, and Robotman.

Johnny laments: “What a time for the big guns in the Justice Society to have decided to enlist in the Army as privates!”

The Flying Eye attacks random locations across the globe.

The remaining All-Stars meet with the President, Prime Minister Churchill, and a military general.

Liberty Belle is suspicious of Akhet’s claims: “I’m convinced there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Hawkman arrives at the White House. He informs the others of his and Starman’s encounter with the Flying Eye.

Carter tells the group the identity of the man who fell out of the ship: “Garret Owens, a pioneering bio-chemist. He’d gone out for a stroll near his Illinois home in 1933 – and hadn’t been seen since!”

Carter notes the emblem on Owens’ uniform is an old alchemist’s symbol for the Middle Ages, it is the sign for “the spirit of the world”.

Hawkgirl and Atom awaken in the Eye. Shiera’s a bit over-whelmed as she’s not a “full-time masked hero type. I’ve just put on this outfit to help the Hawk a time or two – and now this happens!”

Atom informs her “It’s a little late to fall back on your amateur standing.”

Atom and Hawkgirl explore the Eye.

Hawkman and the non-captured All-Stars race to the estate of Elwood P. Napier, a physio-mathematician.

Elwood is another scientist who has gone missing in the last decade.

Johnny Quick has discovered the missing scientists were part of a government brain trust that ran out of funds in 1930.

Elwood was the last of the scientists to go missing. Before that one of the scientists went missing every six months.

Firebrand uses her powers to light up the interior of the house.

Sir Justin: “Odd’s blood, lass, but in my long-ago day, they’d have burned ye for a witch.”

Good thing Firebrand’s a modern woman. Also, good luck with the burning thing considering the nature of her powers.

Hawkgirl and Atom encounter Akhet and easily knock him out. The duo discover Akhet is a robot.

The duo discovers the rest of the captured All-Stars along with the missing scientists.  All individuals are placed in clear tubes.

Hawkgirl and Atom discover the true mastermind behind the plan: Dr. Hastor, Hawkman’s arch-enemy.

“Doomsday Begins At Dawn!”

Hawkman and his fellow All-Star leave Elwood’s estate.

Carter recognized Hastor in the photos found at the estate, “a man I saw die more than two years ago”.

Carter recaps his origin and debut as Hawkman. This is familiar ground for DC fans but I’ll offer a quick summary: Ancient Egypt – Carter/Prince Khufu and Shiera – murdered by Hath-Set, a priest of Anubis, all three re-incarnate to their present day lives.

Carter battles Dr. Anton Hastor in his first adventure. Hastor presumed dead after his fight with Carter.

Carter informs his fellow All-Stars that there is no alien invasion – only Hastor’s machinations.

Hastor explains to Shiera his plans and how he became involved with the missing scientists.

Hastor took control of the group of scientists and the Flying Eye, starting the events of the last few issues.

The All-Stars reach the Flying Eye via a hot-air balloon! No engine to knock out in the balloon.

Carter, Shiera, and Hastor battle by using their past lives’ astral forms.

The Hawks win, the Flying Eye is deactivated, and Hastor falls into a comatose state.

I love the All-Star Squadron but this is a pretty “meh” arc. Too many twists needlessly over-complicated – and stretched out - the plot. The highlights were the recap of Hawkman’s origin and some character development for Hawkgirl. She has been mostly wallpaper during the series but we got to see her fear over her inexperience compared to the heroes and her determination to be an asset and not a “debutante” hero.

[chappellrroan]

people were right you really do start missing ghar ka khana

[ambafaerie]

Gentleman Ghost and Hath Set team up of the greatest haters ever.

[macadam]

Gonna put myself out here for a hot minute to remind everyone that the runner of a poll or little event on tumblr is not responsible for the replies/posts of everyone else in the fandom, nor do they have the power to stop people from reacting in any which way in the notes of their post without turning off reblogs and shutting down the entire thing full stop. I think we can all agree on that? They are not a discord mod, or the fandom's babysitter. Tumblr is the Wild West and by god none of us are the sheriff.

That's all ok keep on keeping everyone

[fancyfade]

Kendra looking at carter's warnings about hath set: nice prophecy of doom did your past lives pick it out for you?

[onlylonelylatino]

Kristopher Roderic aka Hath-Set by Stephen Sadowski

[kartoshinki]

On my way to a job interview, wish me luck and send calming, harmonic vibes

[cloudbattrolls]

I respect detailed magic headcanons for Alternia like Bast and Nyles have but I only make them up for my own characters' specific shit because I have too much else going on.

[readingloveswounds]

salle J of the bnf is ideal

end of the hallway = fewer people. elevator to get to it = even fewer people. SCARY elevator to get to it = you get the point

[moonlight-at-dawn]

I haven't viewed Tumblr on an actual computer in god knows how long what the FUCK is happening here

[floraleevee]

I think I have a curse on me that makes alarms and such malfunction whenever I try to nap for less than an hour

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats (Pt. 3)

Aegon ii x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

Part 1 | Part 2

“With free reign of King’s Landing, Aemond will focus his attention on the occupation of bast-” Aegon’s face flushes bright red. “Harrenhal.” He corrects himself, “and the extermination of house Strong.”

“What did you call it?” Daemon arches a brow.

“Harrenhal,” Aegon repeats.

“Before that,” Daemon prods.

Aegon sighs, looking to his wife.

“Bastardhal.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“My brother’s term of endearment.” He explains, “a slip of the tongue.”

“Mmm,” Daemon hums. “Perhaps allegiance to your brother runs deeper than you let on.”

“I have left my siblings and abandoned my post to be here. I remain loyal to Rhaenyra’s claim and her line of succession. What else would you have me do?” Aegon scoffs.

“There are a number of things.”

“If you refuse to believe that Aegon is loyal to our queen, believe that he is loyal to me and I am loyal to my mother.” Y/N takes a protective step in front of her husband.

Daemon’s jaw ticks, frustrated and teetering near sanity’s edge. “You then, are responsible for his indiscretions.”

“I take full responsibility.” Y/N agrees, “he is here for me.”

“Perhaps he might further demonstrate his loyalty.”

“And how, do you suggest, I do that?” Aegon wonders.

“Deliver us your brother’s head on a platter.” Daemon sneers.

“Mother!”

“Am I wrong, Rhaenyra?” Daemon scoffs.

“That is enough!” The Queen slams her fist against the table. “Thank you, Aegon for the information you provided. We will coordinate with our army and send reinforcements to Harrenhal. We will send word to Cregan Stark-”

“By raven?”

“However I see fit, Daemon. Stay your hand.” Rhaenyra snaps. “You are all excused.”

Aegon is out the door just as swiftly.

Y/N flinches as it slams behind him.

Jacaerys remains stoic in the corner, saying nothing for a long while as his mother and step father begin bickering. “Sister,” he nods toward the hallway.

Y/N returns the gesture, following him out past the royal guards. “The nerve of him.” She is fuming as they begin strolling the grounds.

“That is Daemon.” Jacaerys breathes. “Pay him no mind.”

“It’s not as if I don’t want Aemond’s head. Luce is our brother, for the gods’ sake.”

Jace swallows, mouth set in a firm line. “He was our brother.”

Was…is he not anymore?

“In these dealings with Aemond, you must remember that killing him will not bring Luce back.”

“It would be even.”

“A son for a son was also even.” Her brother reminds her. “Your grievance with it hath brought you here.”

“I should have allowed the murder of a child?”

“I did not say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“What is even is not always right, I expect you know that by now.”

“Indeed.”

“Ravens will take too long.” Jacaerys laments, “but mother will not let us deliver messages anymore. It is a shame that our safety comes at the expense of other’s.”

Y/N draws in a steadying breath. “Pity.” She turns away, in the direction of her chambers. Aegon is waiting for her there, sipping from a pitcher of wine. “Did they not give you a cup, my darling?”

“Hmm,” Aegon hums into the container, “of course.” He lowers the pitcher from his mouth, “but this is faster.”

The princess puts a hand to her head.

“I am not a dog that’s been kicked, do not look at me that way. As if I am weak.”

“I love you and you are hurting.” Y/N sighs, “I do not know how else to look at you.”

Aegon mulls this over for a moment. “I did not mean to call it bastardhal.”

“I know that.”

“You are not a bastard.” He presses on, “I am sorry for ever calling you one.”

“You are forgiven.” It is nothing more than a word. It cannot harm her anymore.

“If no house would claim you, then I would.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile, “thank you, Aegon.”

“You think I jest? Or does it simply mean nothing coming from me?”

“It means everything coming from you,” Y/N takes a step toward him. “Forgive me if I have made it seem-”

“No,” Aegon shakes his head, “forgive me. I am lost in this. I mustn’t take my frustration out on you.”

Y/N cups his face in her hands. “If you are loved by no one, know you are loved by me.“

“Without you I have nothing.” He reaches a shaky hand out, stroking her hair, reverently. “I am nothing.”

She draws back, searching his eyes. “That is not true.”

“If you ask me to slay my brother, I will do it.” Aegon breathes.

Y/N presses her lips together. She had not asked, Daemon did. But Aegon does not bend to Daemon’s will, only hers.

“Please do not ask.” He murmurs with wide, sad eyes.

Y/N cannot stand to see him cry. It tears at the depths of her soul. She wraps her arms around him, “I will not ask.”

Aegon clings to her. “I would do it.”

“I know, my love.” Y/N presses kisses to the side of his face. She knows his sadness, the burden of being least loved by everyone else. Some part of him will always seek to win her approval, her affection… her love.

He is pawing at her then, at the laces of her dress. He does not know how to comfort her, nor himself. He knows how to bring pleasure so blinding it nearly drowns out the pain.

Y/N helps him remove his clothes, wrapping him up in her arms. “I love you.”

“As I love you.” He’s stumbling backwards then, hovering over her on the bed. Easing his cock into her.

She sighs, losing herself in the gentle rocking of his hips. There is no haste to reach their peak, taking what little comfort they can from each other.

It is not until his thumbs skate over her cheeks that Y/N realizes she is crying. Even here, on their marriage bed, there is no end to suffering. Only an end to loneliness.

————————————————————————

Y/N waits until Aegon is sleeping soundly to clamber from the warmth of his arms and dawn her riding gear. Dragonstone is quiet as she makes her way down to the dragon pit. Stormborn is nestled in beside Sunfyre, her light blue scales complement the golden hue of her companion.

“Where are you off to at this hour, your grace?” One of the keepers asks.

“I’m going to take Stormborn out for a bit of fresh air. The moon is beautiful this evening, don’t you agree?” Y/N smiles, tucking a bit of loose hair behind her ear.

“Indeed, Princess.” He eyes the sword, sheathed at her back.

“This is only a precaution,” Y/N lies, “we can never be too careful in these times.”

He nods, “I will saddle her.”

“Thank you, Marcelo.” Y/N nods, tugging on her riding gloves as she waits. Tapping at her wedding band, beneath the cool fabric.

“She is ready, your grace.”

“Thank you, again.” She says, climbing up onto Stormborn’s saddle.

“It is my great honor.” The man smiles, watching in wonder as the princess sets off across the sea.

Only a few torches are lit at the entrance of Harrenhal.

Y/N lands near the stone walkway, striding up to the tall hooded figure and ripping back his cloak.

Aemond turns to his assailant. “Y/N?”

“Take out your sword.” She demands.

“Lucerys death was a tragic mistake, a lapse in judgment I do not care to repeat.”

“I will not kill you with your back to me, I am no coward. You will face me, take out your sword.”

“For the sake of the gods, Y/N,” Aemond growls. “Do you aim so desperately to break my brother’s heart?”

“I will not allow the slaughter of innocent people. This ends here.”

“A brother for a brother it will be then, not a son for a son.” Aemond reluctantly withdraws his weapon.

Y/N charges him, in a blind rage, their blades meet, clanking together.

“You make a better sparring partner than most.” He draws his sword away, narrowly dodging her next attack.

“This is not a children’s game, I want your head!”

Aemond purrs, “you must earn it then.”

She sees red, swinging at him again, until his blade slices across her side and she has cut deep into the flesh of his leg. Bringing the Prince to his knees, with her sword at his neck.

“Do it,” Aemond insists, “you will not get another chance.” He stares up at her blade, dripping with his blood. The fear etched into her eyes, tresses of dark hair clinging to her sweat damp skin.

In this light, each of them resemble their brother.

The end Y/N desires is so near she can taste it, rising like bile in her throat. She chokes on it. “No.” She drops her blade from his neck, covering her aching side instead. “No.”

Aemond hangs his head. “I am sorry for that business with Luce. I lost my temper that day.”

“And I lost my…” No, she cannot say it, the pain is too great.

“Let me see your wound.” Aemond insists.

In her shock, Y/N obeys.

He tears across the bottom of his cloak, knotting the material firmly around her torso. Unbothered by her hissing protest. “This will hold until you reach Dragonstone. Go to Aegon, he will tend you.”

“You must leave this place.”

“You have my word.”

“And you must leave King’s Landing.”

Aemond smirks, “where would I go?”

“Anywhere.” Y/N suggests, “take Helaena and your children. We both know, she is too kind to bear the weight of the crown and our blood. Take her away so she might be happy…and free.”

“Do you not wish to be free from the weight of the crown?”

Y/N hesitates for a long moment. “I am the crown. I am my mother’s heir, her only daughter. I cannot abandon her, she has lost too much.”

Aemond swallows, “very well. Helaena will write you. You and my brother might visit, once we’re settled.”

“Perhaps we will.” She will never forgive him for Lucerys. They will never be as they were before Storm’s End. “You are my husband’s brother and husband of my dearest friend.”

“I am also your brother’s murderer. A title that trumps all, despite your best intentions. You are good, and kind, but human all the same.”

————————————————————————

“Aegon.”

“Hmm?” He reaches for his wife, blindly, stroking a hand over her dark waves. “What have you done to your hair, darling girl?” He grumbles, “it is awfully coarse.”

Jace bats Aegon’s hands away. “My sister is gone, you buffoon. Get your clothes on.”

“Jacaerys?” Aegon springs up, covering himself with the top sheet. “What are you doing?”

“Y/N is missing. The dragon handlers informed me that she left on Stormborn nearly two hours ago. Sunfyre has been yowling ever since.”

“Alert your mother,” Aegon demands, “raise the guard. Who on earth let the heir to the throne take a dragon from the pit in the middle of the night?”

“She is a princess, not a prisoner.” Jace reminds him, “I have a hunch as to where she went.”

“Harrenhal.” Aegon begins tugging on his clothes. The little brat bedded him and snuck off; again. “She will be a prisoner upon her return. I tire of these games.”

“You mustn’t be so harsh, my sister would go to the ends of the earth for you.”

“Yet she will not stay with me.” Aegon steps into his boots. “Surely she loves me so dearly that she flees at every opportunity.”

“Do not see it that way.” Jace sighs.

“I have no other way to see it.” Their chamber door swings open, revealing the woman in question.

“Aegon,” Y/N chokes. The blinding rush of battle is gone, leaving only her pain.

“Leave us,” Aegon waves a dismissive hand at his nephew.

“Y/N,” Jacaerys looks to his sister instead.

“I am well, brother.”

“You are bleeding.”

Y/N glances down at her wound, “perhaps you might go quietly to the maester and request milk of the poppy?”

“The maester should tend you,” he argues.

“Aegon will tend me, tis but a scrape.” Y/N insists.

Her brother squares his shoulders. “Very well, I will be back.”

“Thank you, brother.” Y/N forces a smile as Jace exits the door.

“What happened?” Aegon demands, squinting into the dim light as his wife stands before him, in her riding gear.

“I could not do it.” Y/N curses her own weakness. “I went to Aemond, I stopped him from taking Harrenhal and I let him go.”

Aegon shifts her garments aside to reveal the damage. A long bleeding gash, beneath her ribs. “Aemond did this to you?” He sits her down on the foot stool, pacing in the small space before it.

“We dueled,” Y/N admits. “I made my mark on him as well.”

“Gods be good.” Aegon breathes.

“If Daemon catches word of this-”

“You are injured. That is where my interests lie, not in the folly of men.” Aegon seethes.

“He has already condoned the murder of children. Helaena’s children, of all people. What will he do if he hears of this?”

Aegon passes a hand over his face. “Surely we cannot leave the wound open like that, it will fester.”

“I know,” Y/N nods. “We must seal it up, with a heated blade. We can do it here, no one need know.” She reaches for his cup on the dresser, chugging the foul liquid down for some relief.

“You’re asking me to…” his eyes dart to his dagger, abandoned near his boots. “No.”

“Aegon.”

“I can’t.”

“It will be quick,” she reasons. “It will scar, but it is on my side, you will not look upon it often.”

“That is what you’re concerned with,” Aegon snaps, “of all things, you think I care about the scar it will leave? That I might frown upon an imperfection?”

“I-”

“You are maddening.”

“I am sorry. I do not wish to fight.”

“It is unavoidable from what I’ve heard. Marriage causes strife and disagreements.”

“Not ours,” Y/N insists, “you are the only person who understands me.”

“I do not understand why you would put yourself in danger.”

“For you.” Y/N tells him. “So you would not have to choose between your wife and your brother.”

“I would choose you, imbecile.”

Y/N bares her teeth. “I couldn’t let you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are mine, Aegon! I protect what is mine.”

In the way of the dragon. And that, Aegon understands very well.

“Here it is,” Jace returns with milk of the poppy.

“Thank you,” Aegon takes the gauntlet, bringing it to his wife’s lips. “Drink all of it.” He demands.

“Is there anything more I can do?” The other man asks.

“Rest the blade of my dagger over the fire until it glows red, then bring it to me.”

Jace nods.

“First, might you find something for her to bite down on. Leather works best.” Aegon purses his lips, “bring me my belt.” One of them is still etched with her teeth markings from Laenor’s birth. He’s delivered two of their children, surely he can do this.

Jacaerys rushes to the armchair beside the bed, tugging Aegon’s belt free and placing it on the foot stool beside his sister.

Y/N curls her fingers around the harsh material. Her vision has doubled, swaying from side to side.

“Are you going to faint?” Aegon catches her face between his hands.

“I feel fine,” Y/N slurs.

Aegon taps her chin. “That is good, my dearest love. I am going to remove your shirt.” He eases the material over her head, leaving only the bindings to cover her breasts.

“The blade is ready,” Jacaerys calls, from the fire place.

“Open.” Aegon tugs at her bottom lip with his thumb until her jaw goes slack, taking the leather belt from her clenched fist and placing the strap between her teeth. “Bite.”

Y/N clamps her teeth around it.

“Good girl.”

Jacaerys approaches, handling the instrument with care.

“You will hold me around the waist, you are not to let go until I say.” Aegon instructs, waiting until she is wrapped around him in an awkward sort of hug. “There you go.” He pats her head before taking the dagger from her brother. He offers no additional warning before lying the blade flat across the expanse of her wound. The cut is a clean one, without jagged edges.

Y/N lets out a muffled cry.

“Shh,” he hushes her, holding the heat to her skin for just a moment more before tossing the dagger away. Gingerly withdrawing the belt from her teeth. Resting his forehead against hers as whimpers settle to deep breathing. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nods.

“If you dare leave me again, Gods help me, I will shackle you to my side.”

Y/N strokes a hand over the side of his face. “Yes, Aegon.”

“I do not jest.”

Part 4

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[mac-tirs]

the usage of different types of english in elden ring

most human/tarnished NPCs we meet, like rogier, ansbach, and nepheli, use late modern english:

"a sorcerer, as you might have guessed. i'm looking for a little something, here in the castle. when i'm not hotfooting it from the troops, that is." - rogier, first meeting "general radahn. a pleasure to see you, after all this time. but those remains do not belong to you." - ansbach, upon summon for PCR

but older demigods like messmer, ranni, and morgott use early modern english:

"thou'rt tarnished, it seemeth. mother, wouldst thou truly lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light? yet… my purpose standeth unchanged." - messmer, pre-battle cutscene "thou needst not indulge them unduly, but they too wish to appraise thy worth. it hath been a passing long time since a newcomer entered my service, after all." - ranni, after agreeing to serve her

then there are the younger demigods, like miquella, malenia, and potentially melina, who use a later variant of modern english, similar to the tarnished NPCs we speak to:

"if we honour our part of the vow, promise me you'll be my consort. i'll make the world a gentler place." - miquella, post-PCR cutscene "the scarlet bloom flowers once more. you will witness true horror. now, rot!" - malenia, phase 2 transition cutscene

finally, the hornsent NPCs like the hornsent, hornsent grandam, and the hornsent spirits such as the one outside the whipping hut, who use late middle english similar to the english found in shakespeare's sonnets:

"fie, another? ... then, as that woman would surely say, we are in our purposes well aligned. but understand. your kind are not forgiven. the erdtree is my people's enemy. by marika long betray'd, set aflame." - hornsent, first meeting "all your resentment lingers yet... the raw stuff from which i shall surely forge a curse. upon the dastard messmer's head. upon marika's children each and all." - scorched ruins hornsent spirit

i find it interesting how different the usage of english is in the game, and i feel that it can be a hint on how to properly date an individual's occupation in the lands between/land of shadow. the hornsent, being a people much older than many in the lands between, use the most archaic version of english, while the tarnished and younger demigods use a form of english more closely related to our own in the current period. older demigods (and marika herself, as heard from melina's recounts of marika's spoken echoes) use a form of english more closely related to the period of transition from middle english to early modern english.

additionally, another interesting thing to me: mohg is almost certainly nearly the same age as morgott (since they're referred to as twins), yet he speaks a little differently compared to morgott:

"tarnished, thou'rt but a fool." - morgott, post-battle dialogue "dearest miquella. you must abide alone a while." - mohg, pre-battle cutscene

this makes me wonder if it's possible that, assuming that miquella's verbiage is indicative of his younger age in comparison to the older demigods (aka the demigods born before the marika/radagon union), miquella's charm altered mohg's perception enough to also alter his manner of speaking and carrying himself in some way. if his pursuit of finery (dressing in embroidered robes and handling himself with poise, juxtaposing his bestial growls and strength) was mainly done in an effort to fit into miquella's ideal of a consort. of course, mohg could just be as vain as he seems to be all on his own accord, but i find that it's interesting to entertain the idea that even his current state of being was due to miquella's charm.

i'd love to hear what others think about this. i'm not very learned when it comes to english (it's not really my first language), but i find this all very cool to think about.

[reidrum]

surprise songs | s.r.

A/N: okay listen i am not a fan of unrealistic professions for reader who’s dating reid, BUT i just totally know penelope is one to hyper analyze every surprise song and definitely has theories for when rep tv is coming. it’s canon idk. enjoy this silly little thing it’s just for funsies <3 (not proofread im lazy)

spencer reid x popstar!reader

cw: literally none, reader is basically taylor swift for convenience purposes, angry penelope?

summary: garcia yells at reid because you sang sad songs on tour, how could you do that reid

wc: 0.5k

——————————————————————————

Penelope’s heels clack through the bullpen with a vengeful mission to find a certain stupid boy genius. She walks past Derek’s desk who lets out an amused whistle and turns his chair to watch her wreak her wrath.

Hell hath no fury like a Penelope scorned.

“What the hell did you do?” She exclaims, lightly smacking the back of Spencer’s head.

Spencer reacts in shock, “Hey! What was that for?” He tries to rack his brain for what Penelope could be upset about. Did he miss her birthday? An event?

She pulls out her phone and shows the screen to Spencer, who leans closer and strains to read it.

[“SURPRISE PIANO SONG N1 WEMBLEY: Teardrops On My Guitar/The Last Time!”]

Oh.

You and Spencer had been dating for a year now, a little before you embarked on your world tour. Every night you would perform a few acoustic songs that differed each show, and some fans liked to read into the diabolical combinations you’d come up with.

“Garcia, I didn’t do anything!”

“Then why, would she sing those together! Do you not understand how insane those choices are? Together?! You obviously did something to make her do that, and as the only person close enough to you to do something it’s my job to reprimand you.” She huffs.

Spencer chuckled to himself, he knew Penelope was a huge fan of his girlfriend but he found it amusing that she was analyzing their relationship from song choices.

She playfully thwacks his forehead again. Spencer shouts, “Maybe she just wanted to sing sad songs, I don’t know!”

“Bullshit, Reid.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, “Do you want me to ask her?”

“Oh my god, no! You dummy, don’t do that. I don’t want her to think I’m like, a crazy fan or something.”

Derek snorts from the back of the bullpen, Spencer shakes his head, “Okay, would you prefer I sit in a corner and think about my actions?”

“Actually, yes that would be nice.”

He raises his eyebrows in amusement and stands up, walking to an unoccupied corner of the bullpen and sits down, looking back at Garcia with a faux sad look on his face, “This good?”

Penelope nods triumphantly and clacks back to her cave. Spencer laughs to himself as he pulls his phone out, opening up a flower delivery website.

It can’t hurt to cover his bases, right?

The next day Spencer gets a text from you,

Thank you for the flowers, my love. They’re almost as pretty as you. Can’t wait to see you soon, love you :)

He smiles and replies lovingly to you, and sets his phone back down to finish the rest of his work.

Later that day Penelope comes back into the bullpen to deliver something to Hotch, and passes Spencer’s desk, and before he has time to brace for impact she gives him a cautionary smile, “You did good, but you’re still on thin ice, Reid. “

Happily confused, Reid pulls out his phone again to google search what you sang today, piecing together the obvious reason for Penelope’s change in attitude towards him.

[SURPRISE SONG PIANO N2 WEMBLEY: This Love/Ours!]

His cheeks rise in a blush, feeling bashful and loved. He sends you another loving text with a promise to call you tonight.

Safe to say, Penelope is more than pleased with the following surprise song choices in the next shows.

[witchpassing]

That mage you caught last night is starting to smell of ozone. There’s a feeling in the air like the afternoon before a summer thunderstorm, which is funny, seeing as it’s October and you’re keeping her - for the time being - in a basement.

And god, does she ever wish that storm would break: fingers twitching, teeth set against the bit in her mouth, pretty yellow eyes on your throat from the second you step through the door. Ring-in-ring of sorcerer gold, xanthous star-furnaces of pure and towering petulance.

If sore losing alone was enough to sublimate thought into action, this building would be a crater and your name would be an execration upon the lips of the living, fit only to be spoken by hungry ghosts, et cetera; but ‘the Art hath three cornerstones’, three levers by which the magician moves the world, and spite isn’t on the list. Something like one in five thousand practitioners can work with just two, something like one in fifty thousand manage something with one, and right now she’s operating with exactly zero. So here she sits, in her fulminating cloud of beckoned and unspent aether, seething.

You gesture with the tray in your hands. “You gonna try to ash me if I take that gag out for a second? I’m not risking somatics, too, so. Gonna be feeding you myself.” Shrug. “You know how it is.”

You actually feel her try to kill you for that, the swell and press of the aether against your skin. It passes. You wait. There’s a simple calculus here, hatred and mage-pride against the fact that twenty-odd hours is a long time to go without food, a real long time to go without water.

The wizard picks the wrong answer. Turns her head away in dignified - well, an attempt at dignified - silence, as if you and your stew are completely beneath her notice.

“Alright, then,” you announce, putting your foot on the bottom step of the basement stairs. “See you in another, I dunno, twelve, maybe fifteen hours. Holler if you need anything.”

You make it about, oh, two-thirds of the way up before the noises she’s making through her bit get pathetic enough to bring you back.