#dagger skew

[sn33zy]

🥊🕶️Redraw!!! 📺🌴 og image below:

[dailyhomestarfacts]

Fact 119:

Unlike Dagger Skew, who has appeared in-game through Roomisode X, SCSI Newport is the only character to have only appeared in the Dangeresque: The Roomisode Triangulate "Steam Trading Cards"

[dullntkez]

Dagger skew

[queers-gambit]

Bait and Switch

prompt: ( requested ) Adar knows you by surname and reputation, but makes a fatal mistake: underestimating the mutual desire to reunite with your husband.

pairing: Elrond x female!wife!reader -> hair color specified reader that does not specify race

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.7k+

note: did i steal the Targaryen hair color? "obviously," - Severus Snape. but don't let HOTD's wigs fool you - this hair color is NOT indicative of race.

warnings: reader insert for the haters, spoilers, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, fuck tone of ellipsis 'cause Adar talks slow. POW!Reader (prisoner of war), violence, blood, injury, depiction of medical phenomenon (cauterization), slight gore (Reader bites off an Orc finger). healthy family dynamics, embedded Aragorn quote, Middle-earth fire is hotter than reality so JUST. roll. with. it. okay? okay. also, this requires a lot of imagination 'cause author invents really random lore but have fun with it. not edited, author can't see straight so what the fuck is this?

incarnate: embody or represent (a diety or spirit) in human form

"We found an Elf still alive, Lord Father!"

Adar watched lazily as one of his children stood over a body covered by toxic volcanic ash; twitching as it regained consciousness. "Kill it," he answered simply. The Orc snarled in pleasure and bent to grab the Elf's head; gripping their hair aggressively, yanking their head up - possibly snapping the Elf's spine - and lifted his blade in the air. However, the clump of hair was familiar and suddenly, Adar was barking, "Wait!"

Not many Elves had this particular hair color. It was dyed from soot and ash, but he could recognize the bright, platinum white-blonde hair. While some Elves were extremely fair yellow-blonde, this was white - like the purest of snows. And Adar only knew this trait belonged to one single bloodline.

The Incarnated, a single brood blessed by the Valar to give them unnatural strength and skill in battle. They were impressive, formidable foes; and typically, never lost a fight, battle, or war. They were absolutely brutish, almost impossible to kill, yet humble, generous, and kind.

Their aim always found the bullseye. Broadswords able to sever bone. Morality skewed more positive than simple neutrality. Silver tongues sharpened to prick the ears that listen.

However, it should be noted that even the Incarnated cannot withstand against the eruption of a volcano.

The Orc snarled with confusion now, hissing through his bloody teeth but not lowering the Elf. Adar strolled over, glaring at their captive, but slowly lowering himself to a squat as the Orc presented his finding. Adar's eyes squinted, reaching out and musing the trademark locks out of the Elf's face; smirking as he caressed her cheek free of ash.

He growled your name, sight still hazy from the eruption of what will later be known as Mount Doom - yet could still recognize sounds. Slowly, you blinked and tried to focus, groaning as pain in your scalp burned and prickled; spine bowed from the horribly painful position.

"Adar?" You whispered in confusion.

"You remember me."

You scoffed, slurring slightly, "You left quite a lasting impression."

His hand dropped to push hair from your neck and shoulder, revealing a long blemish from his dagger years ago. "And here we meet yet again," Adar chuckled. "Release her," he told his child, who instantly dropped you with a grunt; ash puffing up on impact. "Come," Adar offered his hand as you tried to sit up with trembling limbs, "we've still farther to go."

"Fuck you," you seethed, spitting at him; ready for the pain to end after the displacement and turmoil of your people. You had been with the Númenoreans, along with Commander Galadriel, and this... "King" Halbrand; celebrating victory against Adar's first volley of Orcs when the explosion happened; spewing toxicity into the earth, through the air, and evidently, over the area to distinguish what will be known as Mordor.

"Hm," Adar considered your weak form, chuckling. "Get her up," he commanded, standing, and watching as chains were slapped to your wrists and ankles before being tossed into a bloody, maggot-infested, wood-rotting wagon.

Seemingly eons away, Elrond was being informed of your assumed demise. Your husband refused to believe it, but by the solemn look of the messenger, his greatest companion, Galadriel, he knew there was weighted truth to her words.

"Did you see her?" Elrond asked.

"See her fall? No - "

"Did you even look for her?"

"Of course we did, but it was too dangerous to linger longer than what we'd been there for."

Elrond's head shook, "No. No... I won't believe it - "

"I know it's difficult to accept, but... She's gone, Elrond."

"I would know if my wife is dead," Elrond snarled uncharacteristically. "Believe what you wish, but I know she still lives."

Galadriel knew better than to argue; she, herself, spent years of denial after Sauron murdered her brother, Finrod. So she gave Elrond space to process what he'd learned.

Yet while a circumstantially redeeming quality, Elrond was stubborn and confident in his morals and opinions. So, he refused to believe your life was lost; something in his gut twisted knowingly, assuring you were just misplaced and surely, soon to be home. Elrond knew you had a flair for the dramatic, so, he just prayed this was one of those times - where you wouldn't reappear until the very last second to make an entrance.

Yet Adar took every precaution to ensure you did not escape or could be rescued. He didn't parade you around, he kept you hidden away to prevent gossip from revealing your location. You were constantly left chained to posts by rusting irons, no comfort offered, no reprieve; nothing to pass your annoying suffering a little easier. You were fed just enough to be kept alive, you were allowed to wash yourself with a single cloth every few weeks - but typically with an Orcish audience watching, claiming they're "on duty". You lost use of your tongue after so many months had passed without a single indication aid had been deployed - hope shattered and futile.

You wondered if Elrond knew. You worried he thought you lost to the war. In vain, you prayed he didn't give up on you. However, you were logical and logic screamed at you that nobody would come - there was no point! You would've believed being told someone perished, too, if you heard of such circumstances.

Despite being an Incarnated, you were emotionally drained. Though, it's worth noting that under normal circumstances, you would've NEVER ended up in this position; but because of your vulnerable state and the opportunity was too good to pass up, Adar prided himself on "defeating you". He didn't know that you were beyond patient; waiting, observing, listening, leaning routines and schedules. Any opportunity you identified, you searched for anything that could help you escape; something sharp, small enough to pick the lock of your irons. You were Incarnated - your will to survive (even out of pure spite) rivaled that of any enemy.

Camp to camp, you were moved. Day by day, you lost a little more sanity. Nights grew cold, days short.

You were surprised when a pair of Orcs lumbered into "your" room, unlocking you from the post but keeping the chains on your wrists in place. They yanked you behind them, shoved you into Adar's tented shelter then forced you to your knees before the food-filled banquet table.

"And of course, there's her," Adar waved at you lazily, smirking when his newest prisoner of war sat forward with a gobsmacked expression.

She whispered your name, head snapping up to find your companion, Commander Galadriel, sat at the opposite head of the table to Adar. You smiled slightly and whispered her name softly, aware of your appearance and how straggly, despondent, and wary you must look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Galadriel demanded, the emotion in her thick voice making it crack.

"We found her," Adar smirked, "after you and your people abandoned her."

"We did not - "

"She's been... An honored guest of ours," Adar cut Galadriel off. "Her hair - it's a rare trait, I knew who she was when she was found. Figured she could truly help... Turn the tides in this war."

"You do not know what you've done," Galadriel breathed. "If her kin knew you held her, they would raze your camp into the dirt and return your children to darkness."

"You think... I do not understand the risks of holding an Incarnated? I have faced them before, known their wrath... But against Sauron, it was a necessary risk to take."

"Why?"

"You must see," Adar explained, "that it is not His lies which must be extinguished. It. Is. Him." He paused, revealing, "And I can help you do it." Adar leaned forward in his chair, "I can help you destroy Sauron, and should you value your friend's life, you will let me help you."

"What help could you possibly provide, Orc?" Galadriel spat, now leaned back casually in the chair Adar sat her in.

"Uruk," Adar corrected in Black Speech, standing from his seat to venture towards the side of the room. He stood before a plain wooden box, lifting the lid, and revealing in his hands:

"Morgoth's crown," Galadriel sat up. "I was told - "

"There are many stories of what happened after the Silmarils were pried from its setting," Adar validated. "But I was there when Sauron re-fired it to fit Himself. I was there when He kneeled to be crowned. And I was the one who used its power to slay Him."

Adar set the crown to the table, your stomach growling at the sight and smell of full platters.

"If what you say is true... Why did He return?" Galadriel asked.

"Because I had not yet found you, as I have her," he gestured at you.

"What part are we to play in this?"

"It is said the Three Elven Rings saved your people from fading. Is it true?" When Galadriel didn't answer, Adar nodded at one of his children standing over you; making the Orc bash you in the temple. "Is it true?" Adar repeated over your whimper of pain.

"Yes," Galadriel grit, glaring at the small dribble of fresh blood dripping down the side of your face. She decided red wasn't your color - no matter how much your husband liked seeing you in it.

"Then perhaps... Together, this crown and your Rings would be powerful enough to truly destroy Sauron forever. The Deceiver believes he is still beyond my grasp... But I know he hides in Eregion. And I suspect you know for certain... Halbrand is Sauron... Isn't he?"

You laughed a little, "Halbrand? Sauron? Come off it, you're mistaken. Go on, Commander, tell him - tell him." Galadriel was silent as she was overwhelmed by her memories. "Commander, tell him he's wrong! Halbrand isn't Sauron, tell him he's mistaken!"

Adar mistook the silence as her being defiant, nodding to his son again in permission. So, the Orc swiftly backhanded you with enough force, it literally toppled you backwards with a groan.

"I kept her alive... For you," Adar growled, bearing his teeth at the Elleth. "But I'll execute her at nightfall if you continue down this path of resistance. The fate of that city and your friend now rests on your ability to put aside your pride." Galadriel's teary eyes casted over you, sprawled out on the floor - not finding the use in sitting up to your knees again. "I suggest you find the will to do so... If you can, for everyone's sake." Adar removed the crown from the table and placed it back in its box, Galadriel hissing your name, only receiving a nonverbal thumbs up to indicate you were okay. When the Father of Uruks returned, he clipped matching irons to Galadriel's wrist before snatching up his sword, tossing over his shoulder, "We will speak again. I'll give you until nightfall to decide."

The Orcs filed out of the room after Adar, leaving you on the ground and chained to a spare post. Slowly, you tried to sit up and use the beam as support; grimacing in pain that made your friend question, "Are you hurt?"

"They're not the most merciful lot," you tried to joke with a smirk, but it turned into a wince, "but I've been through worse, I'll be fine. Listen to me, Galadriel," you sniffled, "you can't tell Adar anything. I don't care if he's gutting me, you don't tell him - "

"I would not have your life ended on my account, it would be as if swinging the sword myself!" Galadriel argued with heat.

"Adar is not your ally," you scoffed, "nor are the Orcs - look at what they've done! Continue to do! Do not be so foolish! So blinded, please, I beg you, my friend. If you tell him about Sauron, yes, your enemy might be vanquished, but you could be creating an entirely new and future enemy that all of Middle-earth must endure. My life is not worth that."

"It's worth more."

You smirked, "Don't forget who I am, friend; I am Incarnated, and I will not die easily nor without a fight. Adar will not succeed in my death so easily."

Galadriel shook her head, "If I do not indulge Adar with information I have and you lose your life because of that, Elrond would never forgive me."

You gave a watery smile, sniffling, "How is he?"

The Elf shook her head, "He's... He refuses to accept your fate, operates on a shorter fuse, he's mourning - even if he doesn't acknowledge or believe he is."

"It's not that I don't love you, my friend, but... I'll miss him the most," you let a single tear fall, a wistful smile toying on your lips. "You'll look out for him, won't you? Just... Just don't let him be alone, please. He'll try to push you away, but be patient; he'll need you and I'll rest easier knowing you'll be there."

"I won't do as you ask," Galadriel grit. "Look at you!"

"How can you be so confident that the moment you tell Adar what he wants to know, he won't kill me anyway?"

"Because Adar appears a man of rationality - unlike Sauron - "

You scoffed, "None of them are rational, Galadriel! They have their own agendas - and none of them benefit the likes of us! Don't tell him anything else, I don't care if he's gutting me like a pig, you don't say anything!"

"I can't agree to that," Galadriel shook her head, "I won't, not when there's a chance we can both get out of this alive."

"And if we survive just to witness the eradication of our people!?" Galadriel was silent, bowing her head. With a sigh, you asked, "Where's Nenya?"

"Safe with Elrond."

"Oh?" You chuckled. "How'd that happen? You have to break his finger off to put it on?"

Galadriel gave a breathy chuckle, "He needed a bit of convincing, but with the greater good at stake - he was left no choice."

With a smirk of amusement, you nodded slowly, then requested, "Could you promise me something decently reasonable?"

"I can try."

"If you make it outta here and I don't - "

"Do not say that!"

"Galadriel, just - stop for a moment and listen to me, please. If you get out of here and I do not, tell Elrond what happened. Tell him Adar found me after the volcano erupted, kept me prisoner, and that I tried." Tears brimmed your waterline, "Tell him I tried to escape, to get back to him... But if I don't make it and you do, please, tell him I love him - more than anything. Tell him I'll wait for him on white shores."

"Tell him yourself."

As promised, when night fell, Adar returned. His second in command, Glüg, approached you with a brandished sword and laid it at your neck with a cruel and twisted expression.

"Have you made your decision?" Adar questioned, Galadriel looking between him and the threat to your life. "Choose wisely, or I'll let my children bleed her; right here, right now. Tell me what I've asked."

"Don't tell him shit, Galadriel!" You barked in a last ditch effort, earning a balled-up-armored fist to rock your jaw. You spit a glob of blood to the side, snarling at Glüg, "You hit like like a bitch." He spit on you.

With a huff, Galadriel exposed, "Yes, Halbrand is Sauron. He's in Eregion to craft Rings that will allow Him to dominate my kind... And yours."

"Every kind in Middle-earth," Adar corrected.

Quickly, Galadriel rushed, "But He will not attempt escape until His task is complete. And that gives us a momentary advantage."

"'Us'?" The Father repeated.

"Unlock me."

"Galadriel! Think for a second!" You snapped, but Glüg pressed his blade deeper into your throat. You seethed, frustrated and angry tears turning suffocating. Adar approached your friend, eyes trained on her, causing the Elleth to look away in discomfort as Adar undid the iron cuff on Galadriel's wrist.

"As we speak, Y/N's husband, Elrond, hastens from Lindon with an army of Elves..." She boldly looked at Adar, you struggling against the blade at the sound of Elrond's name, "And Nenya, my Ring."

"Galadriel! Stop, don't say another word! Silence yourself!" You begged, whimpering shrilly when blood flowed from Glüg's disgustingly dirty blade.

"I see," Adar turned from the Elf.

You were ignored and Galadriel rose from her seat, following Adar while continuing, "Once he arrives, he will seal off the city, loose Celebrimbor from Sauron's grasp, and then together... Uruk, you and I will eradicate all trace of Sauron from this world. Never to return."

"And what then?" Adar questioned.

"Any Ring that have known his touch must be destroyed."

"I meant, what then for the Uruk? Will your High King permit us to return home in peace? Or will he proceed with his plans to invade Mordor? The shadow has not only overcome you, it has overcome all of Elvendom. In the end, your drive to prove your virtue will work right into Sauron's designs."

"You speak lies," Galadriel whispered as if in disbelief. "Hoping I will reveal something."

"You have already revealed everything I hoped you would and more."

You groaned and tossed your head back into the beam; a harsh thump echoing as Adar charged out of the tent with Galadriel and Glüg on his heels.

"Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel struggled in her restraints, unable to stray far from her seat as two Orcs entered the tent and began unclipping your irons. You didn't fight them, rolling your tired eyes as they began dragging you out on your backside. "NO! NO! Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel sobbed, on her feet, trying to follow.

"Remember your promise," you told her, forcing yourself to find contentment that your friend could be the last friendly image your brain would register.

"No, please! Please! You will not profit from her death! I have told you what your Father wanted, now release her! Her death will not profit you, but instead, will bring about your utter ruin! Please! Y/N!"

The Orcs ignored Galadriel's pleas, dragging you from the tent and amongst the snarling, snapping Orcs. Adar stood before a cart big enough for a single prisoner, smirking, giving his children command in Black Speech to load you inside. He watched, telling you, "Galadriel says your husband is on his way with an army. Surely, the sight of his wife might give Commander Elrond pause. The knowledge that you're alive will bring him to my table."

You were strung up by your arms, spread in exposure, tarps thrown over the cage to effectively cut you off from the rest of the world. You felt the cage rattle as you were lugged through mud. You couldn't identify hardly anything... Until a familiar horn bellowed in the short distance, making your chest tighten. While excited by the prospect of a rescue, you loathed the idea of Elrond running head first into a trap.

Your Elven ears picked up on the sound of thundering horse hooves, knowing your people (kin, too) were charging towards Adar's army; who were swiftly gathering in organized ranks. Your cage came to a halt, and a moment later, you flinched when the front-facing tarp was ripped down and the light above Eregion glared down on you. You were greeted with the sight of your husband surging closer on horseback, time seemingly slowing when your eyes locked and he registered who Adar's prisoner was.

You flinched when an Orc pressed the tip of their blade into your already injured neck, reopening a wound to send a single stream of blood steadily flowing.

"Halt!" Elrond called in Sindarin, the entire procession coming to an almost synchronized halt. He sized up the enemy, but kept letting his eyes glaze over you - disbelief coloring his expression. Elrond's horse stamped in place, Adar stepping forward to speak.

"Welcome, Commander Elrond."

"Y/N!" A voice shouted from the army, Elrond's head snapping over in time to see your siblings - three brothers, two sisters - dismounting their horses.

"Wait, wait!" Elrond barked at them, holding a hand up; your siblings halting themselves.

"Wise," Adar taunted, your irons noisily rattling when you tried to adjust your stance.

In Sindarin, you called to your eldest brother, "Do what needs done, do not spare my life for this foolishness! Take them down! Be done with it! Rid us of their filth!"

"I should think... Commander Elrond would like to hear my proposal first," Adar told you casually.

"I think they should put you and children in the dirt!" You spat, earning several snarls, growls, and hisses from the surrounding Orcs.

Elrond encouraged his horse forward, standing in the sunlight highlighting 'no man's land'. He glared at Adar, but asked you, "Are you hurt?"

"Only my ego," you assured.

His eyes flickered over to Adar, then nodded, "I will hear you first."

"You're wasting your time," you told him in Sindarin.

"On you, it's not a waste," he answered stiffly, almost angrily. "I would have her set free for the duration of our parlay."

"But of course," Adar agreed, being carted away at his Blackened command. Due to the tarps hanging over the other 3 sides of your prison, you lost sight of Elrond; forced to blindly follow instruction and behave.

The Elves were not permitted weapons in the Uruk camp.

Elrond dismounted his horse with Vorohil and your eldest brother, Iallion, who insisted on going to gauge your state, in time to watch the Orcs yank you from the cart and drag you into a tent as if your legs were of no use. It was all he needed to know to understand your treatment the past few months you've been 'missing'. His hand clapped Adar's shoulder before the Father of Orcs could pass him by, snarling, "If I come to learn you've been mistreating my wife, I assure you, there will be consequences."

Adar just chuckled and lead the way into his tent. Several Orcs shoved Elrond's shoulder and forced him, his second-in-command, and your brother to follow.

Inside, Elrond noted the walls lined with Orcs, all surrounding their prisoners of war - you and Commander Galadriel. The blonde Elleths were shackled to the same post, both standing, though, you were leaning into the beam for support as it appeared you could not stand on your own. When you noted their arrival, you perked up slightly, but not enough to wash away the worry he felt.

Elrond was offered a seat, just staring down Adar, who began, "The Ring you carry... Show it to me."

Elrond snarled, "Show me the care you've taken of my wife."

"She is perfectly healthy... As you can see. The Ring, Commander..."

Elrond glared for several long minutes, then answered, "A foolish act if I had brought it here."

"You are a courtier," Adar pointed out. "More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword."

"You've never seen me wield either."

"And yet," Adar's head cocked slightly, "I have faced the Incarnated and won. Beside Sauron, there's none alive... Entitled to those rights."

Iallion demanded in a snarl, "How came you by my sister? You say you won against her - where?"

"Didn't win a fucking thing! The bastards found me; facedown in volcanic soot after the battle with the Númenoreans. I told you to keep charging - you should've kept charging," you answered, earning a swift kick to the back of your knee; making it buckle and ram the post.

"Touch her again and I'll slaughter everyone in here," Elrond threatened.

"You so much as twitch - "

"And one of your children shall kill me? My wife? My men? You think I am not aware of that fact, do you honestly think I wouldn't risk life and limb for my wife? Do not. Touch. Her."

Adar just stared at Elrond, then nodded, "Fair enough. Though, if she speaks again... Cut out her tongue."

Elrond, Iallion, and Vorohil all sat forward when Glüg's blade chimed as it was deployed from the sheath; another couple Orcs shuffling and snarling forward to box you in. Your eyes rolled when the same dagger pressed unforgivingly to the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw.

Adar continued, "Sauron is my enemy as much as yours... Give me what I need to defeat Him and let us be rid of Him."

"Is it not you that has done his bidding by laying siege to Eregion?" Elrond countered.

"Eregion has fallen into shadow... It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls."

"Not Lord Celebrimbor," your husband tried to refuted, desperate to believe there was still some good left to fight for.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him... You can...save...them," Adar explained, naturally making Elrond look to you still held at knife point. Galadriel was uncharacteristically silent, chained to the same post, facing one another. "It is an earnest offer... I suggest you take it," punctuated Adar before he rose from his chair. "And leave Sauron to me..."

"Right, 'cause that worked sooo well last time," you scoffed, making every Elven eye widen in surprised shock. "You're the reason He still lives, you're forcing us all to do your bidding and fight against Him!" When an Orc's hand rose in a sudden movement to grip your chin - intending to hold open so Glüg could amputate your tongue - you simply reacted out of panic by erratically whipping your head to the side in time to catch the Orc's hand. His pointer finger landed between your teeth, too slow on the draw; losing the finger to the single, incredible chomp as if a root vegetable.

The Orc screamed in pain, spitting the finger and causing black blood to coat your lips like sadistic make-up.

"Lord Father - "

Adar silenced Glüg with a hand in the air, the injured Orc being escorted from the tent; hissing at you in a way that made you smirk. The Father of Orcs glanced at you, demanding, "Quiet," before slowly moved around the banquet table. He complimented Elrond, "You have the beauty of your foremother, Melian of the Valar. If even a fragment of her wisdom is in your veins... You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you... My forces outfight yours... And you will fall."

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black," Elrond stood to meet Adar, "with the blood of your kin."

You smirked slightly, always having faith Elrond would choose responsibility over emotion - something Galadriel was increasingly struggling with and unable to master. Glüg lowered his blade when he heard Elrond's threat - thinking this war was meant to played with strategy, not overwhelming numbers that would discard Orcish life without thought or consideration.

Adar assured, "My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely... Adar?" Elrond questioned, using the Uruk's name as if an insult. "Are they?" He asked the room, letting his eyes bore into those of few Orcs to truly drive his words and plant seeds of doubt.

Adar didn't respond, pausing, then demanding, "You may haggle over Galadriel... But it's the Ring for your wife's life. What is it to be?"

Elrond's eyes locked with yours, noting the way your head shook. He slowly stalked around Adar, his hand unsuspectingly unclipping the decorative detail of his cloak's shoulder broach. His teary gaze lifted to lock with yours, portraying his apology and grief, then turning to Adar, "Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours."

Orcs hissed.

"Very well," Adar accepted, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I suppose not all vows are kept sacred... I will meet you there... With your wife's head on a pike."

Elrond held Adar's attention, relenting, "If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell."

Adar's eyes shifted to Glüg's over Elrond's shoulder, the Orc assuring, "He's unarmed."

Interesting, you mused to yourself, he saw Elrond's broach but doesn't report it? Perhaps this war caused tension among their legion - beginning to question the man they followed.

After Adar's nod, Elrond turned to approach the beam in record break time. "My love," he greeted softly, tears evident and ready to spill. You both just stared at each other, unable to accept or process being within proximity to one another after being apart for so long - and only now, reunited to say goodbye. "Forgive me," Elrond whispered in Sindarin.

"Win," you answered in a matching hushed volume. "And if you don't, meet me on white shores."

He nodded, hand lifted to caress your cheek in disbelief; shuddering at the feel of your flesh. "I've missed you past the point of words, my star," he frowned.

"No more than I you."

You snuggled into his hand, stomach lurching when he leaned forward to press his final kiss to your lips. It wasn't passionate, but something chaste for show only; your chained hands reaching to hold his free one as it was all you could reach. The broach's center was pressed to your palm, your tear streaking through grimy cheeks when he pulled back to rest his forehead on yours. "I love you," he swore.

"I love you, too," you whimpered, bottom lip trembling with emotion as Adar looked to the ground. You wished to say your acting skills were that good to be truly deceptive, but in reality, something in your intuition refused to let you believe you'd survive this.

Hating the look of devastation on your otherwise devastatingly beautiful features, Elrond leaned in again before hushing against your lips, "Be ready."

"Be smart."

Elrond nodded, kissed you one last time before pulling back. Almost as if in pain, he turned, unable to handle being so close so improperly; causing him to snap, "Iallion, Vorohil," who flanked his tail upon their exit of the Uruk tent.

You sniffled, leaning on the beam in exhaustion, still playing into the facade you thought Elrond was trying to silently communicate. You weren't defeated yet; the pin kept in your clenched fist to cause indentations from the star-point design.

Outside, Iallion and Vorohil questioned Elrond's confidence, being told a legion of Dwarves had been summoned to march to Eregion's aid; telling his second to guide the army to the battle while he held the city. Before trotting away, Elrond pulled on his helmet and told the two in Sindarin, "And it starts with the rescue of my wife and decimation of this camp."

You used Elrond's pin to pick Galadriel's lock first, insisting she had to flee before anyone caught you. She tried to refuse, something about loyalty or other, but you all but shoved her away from you and snarled for her to leave you.

"Elrond's near," you reminded her, "I'm not going anywhere."

"He's coming for you," she realized.

"Did you have any doubt?"

She chuckled, "I suppose not."

"Get out of here," you cocked your head, indicating she flee out the tent flap. You focused on your own lock as the sounds of invasion echoed around the camp. Praying Galadriel found a way to disguise herself, you struggled to unlock your irons; hearing someone rush into the tent behind you.

"You!"

An Orc was surging up to you in record time, bloody dagger in hand, twisted snarl curling his lip. You dropped the pin on accident, unable to retrieve it; but having enough mind to wait until the Orc was a foot from you, stepping back, extending your chains. The Orc slashed directly into the weakened metal, severing your bond, but the loss of tension made you flop backwards; rolling over your shoulder and onto your feet.

The Orc, ever graceful, hacked wildly at you; forcing you to go on the defense and dodge his attacks around the tent. Three more Orcs filed in; but however you might argue, luck was on your side for your brother, Iallion, came charging in with your sister, Eliriel.

"Y/N!"

You caught the sword your brother tossed, slashing the offending Orc's head from his shoulders as your siblings disposed of the other three enemies with ease.

Realizing the Orcs were vanquished (for now), you turned to your brother and raced into his embrace. He grunted and caught you, petting the back of your head before releasing and letting you hug your sister.

"Do you need medial aid?" Eliriel asked in worry, pushing hair from your shoulders to expose flesh - checking for any injury or bloody blemish.

"No - "

"Can you fight?"

"The day I answer no, you've permission to put me in the ground yourself," you scoffed, nodding at your brother. "You came back?"

"Elrond's leading the charge, they're razing the camp," Iallion explained, "otherwise he would've come himself."

"Where is he?"

"Come, we can find him," he insisted, eyes raking over you. "Sure you're all right?"

"Never better," you chuckled without humor, intent on holding the horrors you've experienced at the hands of your captors close to your chest. "Now, we gonna stand here and talk or go hunt some Orc?"

"YES!"

The Incarnated swarmed together in a protection fashion around you; a sibling shield, if you would, due to your lack of armor. Individually, the Incarnated were almost impossible to defeat, but together, they rivaled armies; exactly as the Valar intended. However, while fearsome in battle, you were still but a few and the Orcs were a grand-many; almost easily overwhelming any Elf they encountered.

Exactly why you were separated from them.

You faced against four different foes, turning as if dancing steps to something intimate; blade flashing in the sunlight, ringing as it clanged against blackened blades and rusted armor. It was easy to cut off your retreat or direction back to your siblings, forcing you back several yards as the Orcs swiftly closed in.

"Y/N! DUCK!" You heard from behind you; not thinking, just dropping like a sack of potatoes.

Horse hooves passed you, looking up in time to defend against another blade as Elrond engaged the others. You were both fairing decently until a moment of distraction - where an Orc swung his axe into Elrond's chest and knocked him from his horse - leaving an opportunity for your attacker.

With a scream, the Orc's blade sliced your chest in a deep slashing, managing to cut into your neck; blood starting to stream into your torn and tattered prison clothes. You were blinded by stinging pain, whimpering as your non-dominant arm curled across your chest as if gauze to lay over the injury; dominant hand occupied by your sword, defending yourself with weak whimpers.

One final hack made your sword arm collapse into the ground and for the Orc to stomp on your wrist to hold you there. You were pinned. The Orc laughed and sadistically reached down to swipe a grimy finger into your wound, causing you to hiss through teeth, only to lift his finger to his mouth and taste your life force. The sight alone made your stomach lurch, a panicked cry escaping your lips.

Elrond heard the enemy's laugh and lifted his head in time to see it lick your blood; noting your cry and position beneath the Orc. His face steeled into something beyond infuriation. The three Orcs that filled the space between you and he were quickly dispatched, Elrond engaging your attacker - letting you scramble backwards into a tree trunk for a front row viewing.

With a wild swing, Elrond swiped at the Orc; who reached up to grab hold of his helmet, which was freed when Elrond rolled from under him. The Orc swung, blade whistling; catching Elrond's cheek and sending him to the dirt, much to your worry. He glared at the enemy, wiping at his injury as the Orc growled, "I'm gonna spill her guts at your feet, Elf!"

Elrond's eyes flickered to you, taking the threat as credible; swiping the sword away, using a second blade to inflict injury before driving his longsword into the Orc's belly - driving him backwards into the basket of a trebuchet (or catapult). When pinned, Elrond drove his dagger into the Orc's sternum; leering over him in Sindarin, "Die."

Elrond yanked both weapons free and turned for the machine's mechanisms; yanking a rope and setting the trebuchet into motion. "No, no, no, no," the Orc begged when he realized what was happening; lifted off his feet only to be flung with the basket of rocks through the air, over the width of the Glanduin, and into the walls of Eregion.

Your husband wasted no time to drop the rope and turn for you; rushing forward and sliding to his knees beside your bleeding form. "Elrond, oh, my stars," you rushed with a bloody grin, reaching for him with your dominate hand as the other still tried to staunch your injury.

"I knew you weren't gone, I knew it," he breathed, taking your face in hand, "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry. I should've come sooner - "

"You got here right when you were supposed to," you assured, sniffling. "Have you - Have you seen Galadriel? I set her free, have you seen her?"

"Why was she not with you?"

"I sent her away, I wasn't sure how long I'd take to escape," you trembled, "then Iallion and Eliriel got me out."

"Why didn't you run?"

"I did..."

"No, away from the battle - "

"I ran to find you," you whispered, offering a sad smile. "Oh," you breathed, fingertip ghosting over his cut cheek, "that'll scar."

"It's nothing," he shook his head, "but yours isn't - I have to get you away from here - "

"There's no time," you rushed, "so, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

You swallowed thickly, "Clean your blade, put it in the fire."

Elrond's brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder to see the trebuchet set ablaze by his men; the Orcs fleeing from the danger, leaving a rare opening. "I don't... Oh," his eyes widened, nodding and rushing to do as you bid. He cleaned his blade on his cloak as he sprinted to the burning machine; sticking his blade in, then returning to your side. "Can you stand?" He asked.

"If you can get me up," you nodded.

"C'mon, love," Elrond whispered, hands under your arms and hoisting you up the bark with a small grunt. "I've got you - "

"Elrond!"

He didn't think, just gripped the blade of his dagger and flung it in a fluid motion over his shoulder where you were staring. The weapon struck an approaching Orc in the throat; gurgling black blood as he went down, but Elrond didn't even bother to watch. He just returned his attention to you, "C'mere, starlight, I've got you."

"Commander!" A different voice shouted, your siblings rushing to the scene. Iallion, as the eldest, gave command to the others, "Circle - circle up! Get around them!" As the Incarnated surrounded you, Elrond was assisting you towards the flames. "Commander, orders, sir?"

"Stand guard," Elrond replied, easing you to your knees. "All right, my love," he paused, checking the blade, "think it's good?"

You nodded, "It's good. Just, uh... Aim, please."

He huffed, "As if I'd miss." He pulled his sword fully from the flames, the thin metal burning bright red; even sizzling subtly. "Ready?"

"Wait, wait," Eliriel bartered, finding a chunk of wood and placing it in your mouth. She lowered to her knees and hooked her arms around yours; restraining them behind your back in a vice. "Okay... Okay, good - do it, do it now, Elrond!" She begged, seeing blood flow a little more freely now that you weren't trying to plug the wound.

When your husband lowered the blade to your injury, you lost consciousness after screaming blood murder until air depleted from your lungs. The flesh was cauterized as cleanly as Elrond could manage, satisfied when he noted no weeping openings.

"Commander! What orders, Commander!?"

Elrond was torn between his wife and his company - but Iallion encouraged, "Go, brother. We'll get her somewhere safe."

With a scoff, Elrond shook his head and carefully pulled the wood from your mouth; gathering you off your sister and into his chest. "Where's safe anymore?" Elrond asked rhetorically in Sindarin, standing with you in his arms.

The camp was in complete disarray, Adar realizing the Elven Calvary had destroyed nearly everything in their path, almost to a barbaric extent. He would've questioned the displayed Elven bravery, but his mind knew better and reminded him he threatened Commander Elrond's wife... No wonder the camp was stamped into the ground.

The sun sank, darkness spread, and Adar listened to report after report, all confirming the Elves were fairing better than expected. Many Uruk lost their lives, more were injured, and the Orcs were encountering outmaneuvers no matter where they attacked.

Adar returned to the tent he left you and Galadriel in... Finding empty irons, no prisoners, and several of his children - dead. There was no confirmation as to who the wounds were from, but considering the swift yet strategically fatal injuries, he assumed the Incarnated had come to your rescue. Death was only graceful when dealt by their hands.

"Perhaps, Lord Father," Glüg reported, "we should sound the retreat. The Commander Elrond is formidable, angry over his wife's injuries..."

"No," Adar refused.

"He slaughtered half the camp to find her!"

"We do not retreat," Adar growled, making his son shy back a step. "Send him in..."

"He will kill our own kind!"

"Send. Him. In. Commander Elrond is on the battlefield, his wife smuggled away - "

"His wife is on the field, Lord Father! Khor saw her," Glüg gestured at his brother, who nodded vigorously at Adar.

"All the more reason... Send him in."

After your wound was cauterized, Elrond managed to find a horse and rush you a safe distance into the woods with Eliriel to guard you. Upon awakening, you were stiff with pain, but infuriated by the obvious delay in consciousness; rolling to your feet and testing the bounds of the near-fatal, scabbing wound.

"You can't go," Eliriel insisted, watching you stretch, "you'll tear open - "

"Adar kept me alive just enough for this moment, I have business to settle with him. I've been on the sidelines too long, sister," you snapped, "and injured or not, I will not leave Eregion to the darkness. There's still a chance - our people still fight. Will you join us? Or shall you turn tail, as our uncle did? Demote yourself?"

Your uncle, another Incarnated, had been a member of the original alliance of Elves against Sauron; one of the first to leave Valinor on a noble quest to Middle-earth. He was one of the reasons your kin had been blessed, but he's also the reason you know what happens if Incarnated refuse their Holy Calling... Facing Morgoth's apprentice was traumatizing beyond belief, your uncle leading alongside Galadriel's brother, Finrod, in many abattle. Yet Sauron's craft was vast, weaseling into your uncle's heart and brain to the point of insanity; so much so, that upon your uncle going AWOL, Finrod was slain in response.

Galadriel never blamed you nor other Incarnated; she blamed only Sauron, rationalizing he was who fucked up your uncle's head so much that the Valar took back their gift. A forfeited Incarnated was gazed upon with utter contempt until driven into exile, and even then, they aren't immediately granted immunity nor entrance into Aman, - or the Undying Lands - but instead, must plead for redemption. Needless to say, your uncle gave your kin quiet a public mess to rectify and it was a grave insult to throw such an accusation at an Incarnated.

"Sister?" You prompted.

From the dirt, Eliriel nodded and reached for your hand; allowing you to heave her onto her feet. "You'll need armor - do not argue!" She snapped with a pointed finger when your mouth opened. "Come."

Eliriel lead you through the woods at a mild pace as to not irritate your injury. Using the darkness to your advantage, you snuck around until happening upon a fallen Elleth who was about your size and body type. Swiftly, you took her armor with a prayer in Sindarin, securing it, then latching on her weapons belt.

"Ready?" You asked, seeing Eliriel nod. "Stay close."

"I'm older than you!"

"Then act like it!" You laughed over your shoulder, sprinting from the treeline and directly towards the fray taking place before Eregion's walls. You snatched a full quiver from a dead Elf, not stopping; plucking up an abandoned bow, still surging; then snatching whatever spent torch-arrows you could, doubly determined.

Blood transformed impacted dirt into a marsh; bodies littering the land, a city on fire, and Death permeating the air. Your sword sang with glee at each blow; injury holding strong, giving you fuller permission to move as you needed. When you raced into battle, you were an entirely different breed; purely animalistic, relying on your senses to cause the most damage. All you could process was you needing to kill.

You happened to be in the right place at the right time because just yards ahead of you, several jagged arrows thumped into your comrade, Rían's, body at varying angles. She swayed and dropped to her knees, revealing ahead of her, a small gaggle of Elves - Elrond included. Rían reached for a torch arrow as you noted the barrel of oil by the Grond and quickly connected the dots.

It was as if the Valar arranged it themself: where one Elf fell, an Incarnated steps up to assume responsibility without hesitation nor prompt. Three additional arrows struck Rían, who fell dead, and there you stood; causing your name to fall from your husband's mouth and for you to spring into action. Without hesitation, you ignite your own arrow, notch it, aim, then release before rushing towards Elrond; seven arrows impalied the place you vacated. "What're you doing here!? It's not safe!" Elrond demanded when you lowered to his level behind a barrier of dirt.

Your arrow found it's mark, catching the entire Grond and surrounding Orcs in a violently gnarly explosion. You smirked at your husband, anchoring him by his neck to place a desperate, messy, slippery kiss to his lips. On retraction, there came a loud, wet smooch sound; you nodding and answering, "Winning a war."

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Dagger? I hardly know her

Barbies:male!reader x Harry hook

Summary:reader gets kidnapped and hilarity ensues

Warning:kidnapping, knife kink (no blood), sex on the floor, mutal handies, degradation Harry receiving,spit kink?, I think that’s it but idk

Harry Hook is an asshole. Though, you weren't exactly pleasant to him either. Any chance you got you were insulting him. You couldn't remember how all this started. Maybe it was just the way he breathed that pissed you off. Maybe it was his stupid eyeliner. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to be able to make you blush with just a look. Maybe it was fuck ass hook. Whatever it was, it made you want to shank him. First he has the audacity to speak to you. Now he has the audacity to kidnap you?

Sitting on the boards of Uma's ship, your arms tied behind you, you planned all the ways you'd kill Harry. You were locked in a cabin with a desk. There was a cushioned chair behind it. The desk was messy, nick nacks and papers skewed everywhere. The flooring was still the classic ship wooden floors. There was one porthole, covered with a red piece of fabric. The sun was beaming through the fabric, tinting the room with a red light. The was a rug thrown out on the floor. It reached back behind the desk and jutted out in front of you. It didn't reach the edges of the room, settling closer to the center. The door across from you opened, the sun making you squint. A man walked into the room. As he got closer you recognized him. Harry Fucking Hook. Harry stood next to you, leaning into your ear. He quietly whispered a hello. You called him every name you could think of in your head. You rolled your eyes and jerked your head away from him. Harry stood up, walking around to squat in front of you.

"Comfy?" Harry muttered, giving you a cocky smile. You glared at him, pressing your lips together.

"Kill yourself." You snapped, yanking on the restraints. Harry clicked his tongue. He stood up, staring down at you. Harry knocked his hook under your chin, making you look up at him. Harry smiled at you. You felt your face start to heat up. You yanked your face away from him. Harry sighed before turning and walking away.

You weren't sure how long you spent alone and tied up. The longer time went on the more you started to plot. You found a nail that was raised above the boards. You scooted over towards it, spinning around so your back was to it. You scraped the rope against the nail. It scratched your hands occasionally, but you wanted out. Your hands separated. You brought them in front of you, rubbing at the marks on your wrists. You stood up, your heart was beating quickly. You wondered if Harry would kill you if he found you. You doubted it though. You looked around and walked to the back of the desk. You rifled through the papers on the top. You looked through the nick nacks, trying to find something sharp. You opened the first drawer coming up with nothing except papers. You opened the second drawer and right on top of a book was a dagger. A blue gem set at the bottom of the handle. You almost thought it was a mirage. You quickly picked it up, closing the drawer. You made your way to the door. You tried to open it, the handle did not budge. You tried it again, no dice. You sighed. You'll have to wait until someone comes to the door. You surveyed the room. You were reminded of the porthole. You walked over, pulling the fabric up. You squinted covering your eyes. You looked out the glass once you regained your vision. You saw the ocean and near that a dock. If you could squeeze out the porthole, you could swim to the dock. You looked around the edge of the window, finding no latch. You stuck the dagger in the back of your waistband. You ran your fingers around the edge, looking for anything. Nothing.

You heard footsteps approaching the door. You quickly drew the dagger, silently hiding next to the door. As the door opened you grabbed the person by their shirt, slamming their back against the wall. You closed the door with your foot. You pressed the dagger to their face, finally meeting their eyes.

"Fuck you, Harry." You whispered. Harry grinned.

"God I wish you would." He muttered. You pulled him forward before slamming him into the wall again. Harry hit his head against the wall, he grinned at you. You glared at him, holding the knife closer to his face. Harry kept his eyes on you as he leaned forward. He stuck his tongue out slowly dragging it up the edge of the knife. You stared at him. You stored the dagger in the waistband of your pants again, tugging Harry against you. You kissed him roughly, nipping at his bottom lip. He returned the favor, dragging his hands over every inch he find. You gripped his shoulders, spinning you both around. You push on his shoulders, forcing him to him knees on the rug. You broke off the kiss staring down at him. His eyes were glazed over with lust. You pressed your palm to his cheek. You pulled your hand back before slapping him. His head shot to the side making him stare at the ground. Harry started giggling looking back up to you. You gripped his cheeks.

"Lay down." Harry listened, laying on his back. You straddled him grabbing both his wrists in one hand. You pulled them above his head before meeting his lips again. You dipped down under his chin, kissing down his neck. You realsed his wrists the drag your hands to his shirt. Harry worked on your shirt as you flung his away. He dropped your shirt in the same direction you did his. You kissed on his sternum before pulling back. You stared at him as he held onto your thighs. You ran your hands down his stomach finding the button of his pants. You quickly unfastened them. Harry met your pace, reaching for the hem of your pants too. You both slipped your hands past the other's hem of their underwear.

Harry groaned when you finally gripped him. You watched his eyes rolled back when you swiped over his slit. You moved your hand up and down slowly. Harry moaned and copied your movements. His pace was slower than yours. Dragging his hand up and down your length at a tantalizing speed. Harry had his eyes screwed shut and his jaw cleanched. He slid his thumb over your slit. You picked up your pace, him following your lead. His precum lubricating himself. You leaned down towards his ear.

"Whore." Harry moaned in response. Your hand met the pace of his breathing. His gasps becoming faster, you knew he was getting close. You pulled the daggger from the back of your waistband pressing it to his throat. His eyes rolled back and he closed them.

"Slut." You patted his cheek and gripped his chin. You tilted his face to the side. You spat on his cheek. You patted the other cheek making him look straight up again. Harry smirked before sticking his tongue out and liking at your spit.

"You're a filthy filthy cock slut, aren’t you?" Harry held eye contact with you as he came, moans falling off his lips with whispered curses. Your orgasm quickly followed his. You gently slid your hand off of him, not wanting to overstimulate him. Yet.  He moved his hand out of your underwear, pressing it to your stomach.You stood and rebuttoned your pants. Harry stayed glued to the floor, staring up at you with glazed eyes. You turned and left the room, locking it behind you.

[lilybug-02]

You’re not supposed to grab spiders with your bare hands?? I always grab them like that if I have to.

I mean, it's fine to! But there is an inherit risk the spider may bite you (if it can, of course. Some spiders can't bite humans. And most are not aggressive to do so).

Sam assumes all spiders can and will bite you and are 2 inches long with daggers for teeth, so her perspective is skewed significantly.

[egforsakentakes]

hi hello !! this is my first yap session ask here!! ^_^

(alas huzzah! throws my beloved Two Time hcs at you like birdseeds!! sorry if it’s long,, i have more yap sessions for later! straightens stack of papers)

⚠️ s/h, poor mental health, religious trauma/psychosis, slightly grotesque descriptions, detachment from oneself(?)

~ [ Two Time has an obvious staring problem. They’re so used to smiling that their smile is their resting face. ]

~ [ I like to think that Two Time was always mentally sick in the head, even as a child, and it went untreated. They were disturbing. They were obsessive. The cult didn’t help, it just gave them a place to let it fester. ]

~ [ Two Time has a bad hogging habit. At first they would hoard items like broken glass, rusted screws, or dead bugs. For some reason. Due to their religious psychosis and growing paranoia, they would eventually begin hogging trinkets that were actually valuable, saving it for possible "impending doom." This soon became a problem during Forsaken… you can probably piece together why.

TWO TIME!! ELLIOT JUST THREW A PIZZA TOWARDS A 32 HP GUEST GO GET IT!!! ]

~ [ Two Time has low empathy—it’s the backbone of their selfishness and freakish nature. It’s not that they’re incapable of helping others, it’s that their understanding of emotions is skewed and messed up, mainly because of their devotion to the Spawn. (wake up two time pry your eyes open please)

For example, if someone were literally dying in front of them, Two Time might hand them a medkit if equipped, but not out of compassion or urgency. "I assume you need this? Would this help?"

They lack the ability to connect with the desperation or emotional weight of the situation. To them, suffering is just another facet of life, something to be endured or transcended through the Spawn’s teachings that will soon bring them to it. "Ah. Such non-believers are clawing—scraping—begging for such temporary happiness! I do often find myself wondering why they choose that path, when you can choose the Spawn!!!!" They see themselves as a vessel/tool of the Spawn, and view others through that same warped lens. Every act of their assistance comes with a rationalization, not an emotional connection. ]

They most certainly aren’t a good person, but they aren’t pure evil. They just don’t feel the way others do. (what they need is therapy but delusions are free) ]

~ [ I find it funny on how the entire fandom unanimously agreed that Two Time has scars on their arms. I am absolutely apart of that ;3

Two Time self harms. It comes in a variety of different forms (scratching, using the dull of their dagger, etc.) The cult often practiced this as well as detachment from oneself. The blood from the blooming scars on your arms evaporate into the sky, as your body is preparing for its spiritual flaying. Spawn, I ask of you, to unite me with you, flesh and bone, or nothing at all. I am content in any image you have decided of me. They are very good at handling injuries and are more than capable of medical treatment on their own. ]

~ [ I did yoink this one from a genius anon but it lives in my head now:

Gender? Ego?? Self identity??? What are you talking about???? That was considered an outside infection. To be truly free in the eyes of Spawn was to peel your soul from the flesh-wet prison of your body and offer it to your beloved God! Everyone in the cult was considered genderless. The body could keep its petty labels (Azure, for example, still went by he/they—preferred out of politeness) but the soul? The soul was considered your "pure true form" that was simply trapped in the vehicle vessel that is your body. The soul didn’t have an identification to go by. You were simply taught that your soul was just the property of Spawn.

Two Time bought into this like WAY too hard. They were already unraveling by the time they joined, and the cult’s rhetoric just greased the slide. They started peeling away their identity like dead skin—maybe both metaphorically and literally following their years in the cult ?? They scraped off their old name, their old voice, their old gender, until only "they" remained. Basically how they adopted their theyfailure lifetsyle ^_^ ]

~ [ You’ve probably seen this headcanon a million times but AFAB Two Time….,,, 🤤🤤 they actually began questioning before the cult found them. Surprisingly, the cult was very accepting of this and encouraged it! (it was more to push them into the whole body vessel thing) If a cracked shell was easier to hollow out, why not help with the breaking? ]

~ [ This might be niche but are there any selectively mute Two Time enjoyers in the house…. i also enjoy the "rambles about the Spawn for 10 hours straight" to "suddenly closes their mouth and won’t say a single word for two whole days while communicating exclusively via vibes and uncomfortable eye contact." types of Two Time :3 ]

~ [ Azure was guilty of also thinking Two Time was a weird, freakish creature when they first met. And honestly? Fair enough.

When Two Time first joined the cult (i hc around mid-late teens), Azure was quick to greet them and show them around—because hip hip hooray someone around my age I can befriend! This basic act of kindness lit up something deep in Two Time’s system. They didn’t try to talk to anyone else their age. Two Time would actively seek out Azure's location thanks to the reluctant help of other members, memorizing his daily patterns—where he tended to the flowers, where he sat to eat at dinner, where he prayed… and when they found him, they would just stand nearby and stare. Or shift close and sit in uncomfortable silence.

And the thing is, they genuinely didn’t see anything wrong with what they were doing. It was comforting to them—being near Azure. Watching him. Studying how he moved, breathed, existed. Yeah they’re weird!!

It was only after Azure introduced them to more of the cult’s customs and mannerisms, that they slowly began to build what resembled an actual friendship. Then it blossomed further.

All bro said was hi btw ]

~ [ Two Time usually isn’t the one to start conversations. They just don’t feel like it :( If you want to talk, you’d better initiate. ]

// if it isn’t taken, could I go by koipond ⛲️ anon? :3

not taken! All yours:)

welcome^_^!

[5opossumsinatrenchcoat]

Meet my human OC, Hilda!

font translation and backstory under cut

Hilda Eriksson

"Tribal" crest

SO basically

Hilda's parents (Freya and Erik) never stayed in one place. They were always travelling on a boat, even after Hilda was born. But one day when Hilda was about 4 or 5, there was a HUGE storm. Waves crashed against their boat, sending little tiny Hilda and her parents flying off the boat.

Hilda wound up on a seemingly deserted island. she was terrified and had no idea where she was. lo and behold, she stumbled into a dragon nest. And what's the first dragon she meets there? a Deathgripper. A whole family of them, actually. The mother (by some miracle of the gods) doesn't kill Hilda, instead kind of taking her in and raising her.

Due to her upbringing, she developed plenty of.... odd habits. She acts pretty wild, sometimes borderline feral. she never learned manners or anything like that. She also has a very skewed sense of modesty because she grew up with dragons. She's a very skilled hunter and fighter. Her weapon of choice is a Long Seax or a dagger, but she could just as easily kick someone's ass with her fists. Her speech patterns are also pretty irregular, and sometimes she won't even actually talk, she'll just make whistling or chirping noises because that's how she communicated with her Deathgripper family.

She rides one of her Deathgripper siblings, Kael. They're INSEPERABLE. Kael would kill and die for Hilda. Do not mess with her if he's around. you will die unless she stops him.

Hilda's parents didn't actually die in the boat wreck, they survived and wound up on Berk. they got permission from Stoick to move onto Berk in hopes that if they finally stayed in one place, their daughter would find them (which, eventually she does)

also yes, she 100% falls in love with Snotlout eventually. why? CUS YOU CAN'T STOP ME!!! >:)

[wetcatspellcaster]

Veilguard Thoughts

(my sort-of review, more of a ramble, below the cut in case of spoilers)

I had particularly low expectations for this game, as it felt to me like it was rushed out to try and hit the BG3 crowd and get them to pay £70 at the point where their hyperfixation was failing them. It felt like a very commercially-motivated decision, and I tried to modify my expectations accordingly.

I then started playing... and had to modify my expectations again.

But with two lowering of expectations completed... I genuinely enjoyed this game! I had fun! Sort of! if I squint!!

Thoughts!

I am not a competent gamer, so I like combat that feels fun and engaging without being challenging or a chore (cough, BG3 Act 3, cough), but without being lazy either. I played as a mage in Veilguard and I felt like this hit a sweet spot - moments where I was stressed kind-of invested, no moments when I was bored. The graphics for mage (for spellblade particularly) were awesome and badass, and I loved to new mode of engaging with the mage class in orb and dagger.

I understand the frustration with a lot of lore being retconned, ignored, or wilfully erased or moved away from. Some parts I understood: I do think Veilguard tries to make a move away from grimdark, not out of disloyalty to the franchise and it's roots, but bc grimdark is a very different prospect now than when Origins released. it's a genre that gets a lot more criticism and bad press, and that some people feel genuinely uncomfortable perpetuating as a results. While Origins is my favourite dragon age game, there's a lot of insane things you need to just let slide to enjoy it - like the fact that multiple origins begin with some kind of rape and sexual assault if you're playing as a woman. I don't think retconning that stuff is anything other than being politically savvy, and a little more sensitive to how fantasy has changed.

(I also think this is why they've moved away from the chantry conflict to be honest. Like the optics of Christian religions in fantasy has also changed, and let's be honest, Dragon Age had already fucked THAT, multiple times.)

I did however, like everyone, find it a bit disheartening to see how little Keep decisions mattered. Why is there no Keiran with Morrigan? why can't Mythal move to an inquisitor who drank the Well of Sorrows instead? why is my Inquisitor defending Solas when she ended the game hating him? Why is Hawke being in the Fade meaningless? I know this is just echoing what people have already said, but it was sad to see the 'conclusion' to the franchise (that probably isn't the end, let's be honest, not now that people paid £70 for an underwritten game) was even less satisfying in terms of choice and agency than ME3

This game deliberately skewed itself to read as a 'better DA2', than a 'worse, rushed inquistion'. IDK, it just makes me feel a bit grossed out, and manipulated. I mean, we know DA2 can be made in crunch, lads!!!!! :)))

Criticisms!

EVERYTHING is underwritten. The game is woefully short. If I can complete all the sidequests in a game, then something is wrong. The romances, the character arcs, the main quest, the dialogues. Everything was sparse, with the bare bones of a plot, that (in the case of companions quests) was rarely seen through to a full and satisfying conclusion. And I *know* that's not the writers fault, necessarily, but that doesn't mean it couldn't be done better.

There's so much potential, but I found that most of the companions could be boiled down to one or two traits, and while I can see people headcanoning reasons for this in real time, it's just... underwriting, or bad writing. Extremely telling to me that both Emmrich and Davrin were my favourite companions... because they had their own companions. That meant that they had multiple story hooks - their professions, their relationships, and then their little guys. They got three things, when most people only got two.

This was particularly egrerious for me with Taash, because they started out amazing, and I ended up being extremely disappointed as I watched both them and their mother being reduced down to flat one-dimension caricatures and a tired queer narrative of 'my parents hate me'. Only, this time, it's 'my immigrant parents hate me'. when you couple the reductive approach to Taash with bioware's inability to write the Qunari well or without falling into Orientalism??? they're suddenly an evil repressive queer phobic religion after being supportive of trans characters in inquisition???? you're telling me Shathann, a woman who was forced into a more feminine role by circumstance but considered herself more genderless/masculine as a scholar, wouldn't be on board with non-binary identity? just galling tbh.

The romances are underwritten. And they are badly written, to me. Luckily I know we'll have fic, but in Inquisition, each romance was 90 minutes worth of content. In Veilguard, Lucanis's romance is the longest... at 18 minutes. It just seems stupid and strange to me - if this game is chasing on BG3's coat-tails, why don't they know everyone is fucking horny?

While I liked the decision to give companions more banter together and flesh out their interpersonal relationships, I felt that the balance was off... probably bc it's cheaper to have two actors share a piece of scripted dialogue, than voice a decision tree. It meant that to me Rook often felt like a bystander in their own story, or excluded from their own found family. HR Manager-core, as it were.

General uselessness of the Lords of Fortune coupled with the Orientalism of the Lords of Fortune.... big sad.

I think the choice between Lace and Davrin is highly!!!! suspect!! do you go with fantasy racism (kill off the only dwarf, thus meaning all your dwarf companions are dead in the game, including the one who represented to future for her people) or the real racism (kill off the black man). I really wish this decision was more reactive, and perhaps based in faction strength or character bond, not just a pre-set choice.

I'll never care about solas, the way trick weekes wants me to care about solas. pretty dumb decision, to make a whole game contingent on this fact.

The ending and epilogue screens were underwhelming, and left the game feeling incomplete to me.

Joys!

To end on a more positive note...

everyone is hot. I honestly think everyone is hot. No other dragon age game had a cast of characters whom i all found attractive. This is unheard of. This is why I know all the fic will be fucking stellar.

And you know who else is hot? Rook. Genuinely one of my favourite DA protagonists! Maybe bc of the faction thing, or just the chemistry of the VA I chose. I just felt like she was pretty fucking hot tbh, and that more people in-game should be taking notice of it. Everyone should stop having conversations with each other and start desiring Rook carnally.

Weisshaupt was genuinely an amazing sequence and questline. In fact, I loved that this game featured Grey Wardens more heavily, and I loved all the lore about Wardens that was introduced.

Assan!! <3 Manfred!!! <3

Bellara and Neve kissing with tongue!!! No, I will not elaborate!!!

(I think that Bellara and Neve were two characters who did have strong stories, and that they should kiss about it.)

Elgarnan and Ghilanain.... never before has a dragon age game known what it's like to have a charismatic villain. This time, we got two. Ghilanain was my favourite, bc I'm fucking gay, but even interactions with Elgarnan and his boss battle felt engaging. I honestly don't think a dragon age game has ever had a good villain before, and these guys were both fucking cool.

[seravphs]

daylight

gojo x fem reader 

extra in cruel summer universe 

“Come on, up,” Gojo says, holding his arms out to you. 

Your head lolls on your neck, your thoughts feeling syrupy and incoherent. Where had you been? A field of flowers, a spring breeze in your hair. The flash of Utahime’s face before the incident. It had been a pleasant dream. Summer naps tended to skew towards kindness, nothing like the teeth and dagger of winter. 

You loop your arms around his neck and let him pick you up as easily as if you weighed nothing, settling against him with your head on his shoulder. He huffs a laugh, pressing the barest kiss to your temple as he hugs you close. Eyes closed, the sensation of movement doesn’t escape you as he carries you through the hallways. 

“Feeling sleepy?” 

You hum a non-answer against his neck, feeling him squirm at that. It’s not that you’re still tired. You’ve slept long enough. What you’re craving is the sweetness of your fantasy, the world in which none of your friends had suffered. Pleasant, simple times. 

What did people say? That hard times made great men? You wish no one who belonged to you would ever suffer greatness, but it’s too late for idle fairytales to save you. 

“This my shirt? Thief,” Gojo says, tugging lightly at the tee you’re wearing. 

“It’s the most comfortable thing I own,” you reply, breaking away from the fragile shell of happiness now. The more he talks, the more it burns through the fog, anchoring you to the present. 

“Most comfortable thing I own,” he corrects. 

��Getou lets Shoko borrow his clothes all the time,” you whine. 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Gojo says. You’re being pulled away from him now, passed to someone else. Getou scoops you up, relieving Gojo of his duties so he can help set up in the kitchen. Utahime demanded it, catching on quick to the way he never helped out. 

“Fighting again?” Getou clicks his tongue at you disapprovingly. 

“What’s new?” Nanami says dryly from the couch, where he’s trying to convince Shoko to give up smoking by showing her pictures of blackened lungs. By contrast, this only delights her. He’s gotten pulled into a game of helping her identify diseases unwillingly, but can’t manage to extricate himself. 

There’s a noise from the doorway, then Yaga staggers in, an excess of shopping bags in either hand. A carton of ice cream each, your favorite flavors all present. 

It’s so easy to forget how short and brutal your insect lives are in moments like these. Utahime calls from the kitchen, her eyes sparkling. She hasn’t lifted a finger today, simply supervising as Gojo sets out the bowls and spoons. Haibara whines about the lack of sprinkles because Yaga forgot until Nanami allows him to dip into his personal stash. 

Tired of carrying you around like a clingy koala, Getou sets you on the counter, where you watch your friends from above like some omniscient god. They sit on the floor despite Yaga’s despairing cries that you own chairs for a reason, forming a huddled circle like children again. Your feet dangle in the air, Gojo turning to tug on your ankle for your attention. 

Jujutsu sorcerers don’t have gods. Your lives tend to beat the belief in something greater out of you. How could any divine being watch over you and let you suffer so? 

Still, something stirs in your brain, an ancient will. A prayer unspoken, the desire that these moments last forever. 

Gojo laughs, high and boyish until his voice cracks.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

More Fake Banter for Andy Thorne

Neve: So Rook. If I were to hunt down any Orlesian Merchant who lost a child in the past few years…

Rook: You would be finding a lot. The last few decades have left a lot of people childless.

Neve: True but if one wasn't declared dead…

Rook: I will tell you if you're right but you get no help from me.

-

Lucanis: Your potion… what does it do?

Rook: I have scarring on my lungs. It soothes the aches and prevents inflammation.

Lucanis: Meirda. Scarring?

Rook: Yep.

Lucanis: Is it related to…

Rook: *laughs motioning to scars on face and body.* These? Yeah. They didn't just ruin my eye. But I actually had damage before hand, thanks to Mother.

Lucanis: Do you need that dealt with? I do owe you.

Rook: The best revenge I ever got was her knowing I'm forever out of her reach, poisoning my body so that she can never have what she wants. The look on her face…

Lucanis: Hmm. You would make an excellent Crow.

-

Bellara: Rook… are you okay?

Rook: I swore an oath to protect people from the Blight. I had to choose.

Bellara: I’m sorry Rook.

Rook: *cough* Me to.

-

Harding: Rook, you've been coughing more.

Rook: Yeah. Infection thanks to the freezing cold during the dragon fight.

Harding: You should take a break.

Rook: Not when people are dying.

Harding: You can't do anything if you die.

Rook: I’m a Warden. It’s an occupational hazard.

-

Lucanis: Thank you Rook. For saving Treviso.

Rook: We had more to lose if the Blight poisoned the waterways. I've seen Blight pollution in the water before. Its never pretty.

Lucanis: Thank you.

Rook: You’re welcome. *coughs harshly* Shit. Smoke is never good for my lungs.

Lucanis: I have some of your paste.

Rook: Oh. Thank you.

-

Davrin: Hey Rook.

Rook: Yeeeeees?

Davrin: How did you join the Wardens?

Rook: I was a thief in the Anderfelds. There were these catacombs under the city I was in I mapped out pretty well, and got really good at stealing. *cough*

Davrin: Rook?

Rook: Lungs are hurting, I’m good. Anyway so I got really cocky one day after no Darkspawn for a few months…

Davrin: And you ran into some.

Rook: Yep.

-

Davrin: Ogres, Hurlocks, Shriek or Genlocks?

Rook: Oof tough choice. I think I'll say… Hurlocks. They're pains but they aren't as bad as the others.

Davrin: Really? I always found it easier to take down Genlocks.

Rook: You are built like a wall and you can smash just as hard back. I however have to shove my daggers into thick muscle! While dodging!

Davrin: You are pretty skinny…

Rook: Malnutrition will do that.

-

Taash: Where did you get your scars?

Rook: Which ones?

Tassh: The ones on your face, duh.

Rook: Emissary. It’s how I became a Warden, actually. Blasted me with a shit ton of electricity and ruined my eye. I then in turn skewed it through its heart while biting through the throat of a Hurlock trying to get me.

Taash: Damn, that’s bad ass.

Rook: I know.

-

Davrin: I thought your scars were Blight marks.

Rook: Taash told you?

Davrin: I overheard Bellara ask if anyone knew.

Rook: Part of them are, rest are the handiwork of that Emissary.

Davrin: And you lived?

Rook: Mother always called me a bug. Guess I'm a cockroach.

-

Emmrich: Rook, I would like to extend an offer to help see if I can relieve some of the scarring on your lungs.

Rook: I don’t think necromancy is going to work well with this Emmrich.

Emmrich: I meant more my knowledge of anatomy.

Rook: Ah, well short of cutting me open not much you can do really.

Emmrich: But you see we can.

Rook: … that is terrifying but I am curious. Lay it on me.

[mercymaker]

he sits there, the necklace heavy in his hand, crimson eyes focused on the dark film covering the golden chain. blood—long-dried—that looks more like rust in the crook of his palm, reminds astarion of the night he retrieved the pendant, flashes of memory playing in his mind again and again like the iridescent sparkle of the shifting jewel.

some of them died too quickly, he thinks.

but the spawn had to be fast in thinning their numbers as his ambush hinged on the element of surprise. once that was gone, he would've been quickly outmatched. he made sure to save the archer and the leader for the final act, refusing to end their lives with a quick lick of his blade. they had shown no mercy to maleane, and astarion was never of the merciful sort to begin with.

yet, as he rotates the pendant in his hand, the unsoiled edge of the amethyst catches a stray beam of light coming from the lantern behind him. a sudden, ephemeral gleam of purple is all it takes for his mind to conjure up a different memory. a glimpse of pale lilac eyes finding him in a busy room. a soft, understanding smile that followed.

like a pendulum swinging, one second the moment is there, and then... it's gone. just like her.

against his very nature, however, astarion chases those thoughts. he unravels the spool of his memory, pulling the string between his fingers, searching for those warm moments, for the soft laughter, for the sound of her voice. and yet, every single one of them cuts like a shard of glass, nipping at the tips of his fingers, until the thread is coiling around his throat and his heart is full of splinters.

astarion hates how tainted it all feels. how instead of finding comfort in those loving moments, he now feels pain. how loss twisted and skewed his own mind against him, turning the last remainders of her into poison spreading in his cup.

first, he turned that pain into anger that had a direction, a sharpened arrow he could point at those who were at fault. but now all that remains is him and no more targets to aim at. maybe that's why astarion's dagger was sinking into his own heart.

▬ some post-atvs musings living in my head

[jon-snows-man-bun]

coming in for the violent misogynist agenda!!!!!

Don’t try to honeytrap Eris~

“I could help you dress, my lord,” she offered, glancing up at him from under thick lashes coyly. “Or undress, as you prefer.”

“And if I prefer you to do the undressing?”

She leaned back against the desk she claimed to have been tidying. His letters have been disturbed from their neat piles, he saw; she knocked them again carefully with her hand, scattering them further.

Eris allowed her to draw him between her legs, sat on the edge of his desk as she was. She curved one over his hip, pulling him closer; letting her run her hands up his chest, he settled one on her waist. The servant’s dress is thin linen and cotton, made for labour and to be as forgettable as possible. It’s good for hiding in, but not so good for concealing - Eris could see the press of the dagger in her dress pocket. Leaning forward, caging her against the hard surface of the table, he idly reached into her pocket and fished it out. A working knife, something a servant would have - for trimming candlewicks, for paring fruit, for uncorking wine. Any number of dull tasks.

She giggled, not concerned by the loss of one knife, even as he unsheathed it and used it to slice open front ties on her bodice. Eris wanted to see the plump tits that earned her a spot as a spy - did Azriel think he liked them with udders like that? Was that why he sent her? She arched her back and bit her lip as he hefted them in his hands, considering. She couldn’t have been sent by one of his brothers, then, who knew his tastes skewed more refined than that. Trust the Illyrians to have such base pleasures. He pinched one nipple viciously and she squealed, a little piglet noise.

That got his cock interested. He was bored of this farce, now. Giving her one more pinch on the other tit for good measure, he stepped back and flipped her over, pinning her hips against the edge of the desk she’d been so boldly ransacking with his own. She hadn’t realised the truth of her position yet, still playacting the lusty maid, and giggled as she arched her hips up with an inviting wiggle. She kept giggling and moaning as he flipped her skirts up, and she didn’t even react to the loss of the second knife strapped to her thigh. Another nondescript dagger - it could be from anywhere, an oak handle and a simple blade, but lethally sharp.

It was only when he pinned both of her wrists in one of his hands and fished the Illyrian dagger out of her boot that she must have realised he wasn’t quite as easy to distract as his brothers.

[oopsallgoalies]

You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 20

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, dead parents, drunkenness, alcohol consumption, violence, sports violence, blood probably, angst, fluff, eventual smut, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, You Catch More Bees With Honey. It was originally posted in November-March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist

That night Jake calls for a team outing and Bradley is surprisingly not begrudging as he agrees to tag along despite the fact that usually he’d point out that he’d rather spend the evening with you. There’s one more game on New Year's Eve but the coaches are cutting the guys some slack since it’s the holidays. That’s how you find yourself glaring at your boyfriend as you line up next to each other and you strongly consider accidentally dropping your bowling ball on his foot.

It’s boys versus girls in neighboring lanes and you and Bradley have been tied for the better part of the game. Sure, Jake’s ahead of him, but this competition between the two of you supersedes the overall game. You’d be playing better but Javy had implemented a rule that dictated that you take a shot if you land a gutter ball and you’re more tipsy than you’d like to admit. Bradley, despite his multiple gutter balls, is built like a brick wall and therefore the shots have had little to no impact on his game. You’re beyond arguing the skewed fairness of the game and you’ve descended into quiet rage. You still lead the girls but that means nothing to you if you can’t beat Bradley and as you watch every pin in the lane next to you clatter to the floor with a satisfying crack you’re wondering how good you’d be at shotput. He turns to you, a cocky smile on his lips that dares you to match him.

Sure you and Bradley have a softer relationship but you both have a natural competitive edge that comes from growing up in the world of sports. Yours manifests more often in the form of your stubbornness but when a game does happen to be on the line you’re determined to win. As you scowl at Bradley you catch sight of Mickey smirking behind him. He knows better than to goad you when you’re in competitive mode. You take a deep breath in a poor attempt at collecting yourself. The alcohol is starting to dull your senses so when you release the ball in your hand it veers left, just barely clipping the furthest pin and saving you from another shot.

“You can still spare,” Bradley remarks and you glare daggers into him as you line up again. The sound of his soft chuckle only makes you frown harder and Mickey calls out from behind him.

“Hit them with the trick shot!” You turn around, your attention now on him as you consider his words. The trick shot in question is something you coined back in college when you and Mickey were out with his team and someone challenged the group to a round of bowling with a catch. Every shot had to be embellished in some kind of ostentatious and ridiculous way. The game had quickly devolved into chaos but you’d patented what went on to become your signature move.

“Trick shot?!” Javy exclaims. “Now we have to see it!” Then there’s a chorus of drunk hockey players chanting at you to show off the trick shot and you roll your eyes before you step back and slide your bowling shoes over the slick floor, testing the resistance. You should be able to pull it off even though it’s been years. You take a deep breath and bring the bowling ball up to your chest as your friends start to cheer. Despite your intoxicated state, in college you mastered being able to keep alcohol from affecting your skating technique so as you push into the spin that’s almost a pirouette letting the weight of the ball steady your center of gravity before you slide forward on your shoes across the slippery ground, extending your arm clutching the ball in a ramrod straight position and releasing the ball. You watch as it takes the speed your spin charged it with and barrels straight down the center of the lane before colliding with a satisfying crack and you smirk as the pins tumble in a wave. Behind you, the guys are going crazy and the girls are cheering. You’re about to turn and rub it in Bradley’s face when he scoops you up from behind, burying his face in your neck as he whispers into your ear.

“That’s my girl,” and you feel your cheeks heat as you lean into his touch before leaning up to whisper back in his ear.

“Afraid you’re going to lose?” His laugh vibrates through his chest against your back.

“Challenge accepted, Honey. What do I get if I win?” You can hear the tease in his voice as it rumbles against the shell of your ear and you suppress a shudder.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” you say, voice saccharine sweet, batting your lashes up at him. “Of course, the same goes if I win.”

“Deal,” Bradley says before turning you in his arms so he can kiss you and you can taste the alcohol on his tongue. You hear wolf whistles from behind you that you’re sure are Javy and Mickey as your cheeks heat slightly. Bradley rolls his eyes and pulls you back so the next people can take their turns, not letting you out of his arms quite yet.

***

You smirk across the packed booth at Bradley where he’s sulking over a beer. You’d moved on to a local karaoke bar you’d been to with Mickey and Bob before after the bowling concluded. Jake won for the boys and you won for the girls, Bradley trailing you by a measly two points. He was currently soothing the loss with alcohol as the others excitedly made their karaoke selections. His ruddy cheeks tell you he’s made up for his lack of shots during bowling and you gaze at him fondly thinking of the last time you saw him drunk. You bring a hand up to rub at your long-since-healed jaw and you catch Bradley’s eye as he flushes deeper at the memory.

“Zam, what are you going to sing?” A drunk Mickey interrupts your moment, thrusting the list at you but Bradley plucks it from his grasp, scrawling down his suggestion as your eyes widen with surprise. He’s drunk enough to let his guard down. You’ve heard him sing before, of course, but that was in the privacy of his car and along with the radio. You never pegged Bradley as a performer when it comes to music but absently you remember the baby grand piano in his living room that you’d written off as merely ostentatious decoration. He gets to his feet without a second glance and takes the list back up to the front, ignoring Mickey’s protests that you haven’t signed up yet. He pushes over to where Jake and Javy are arguing over who’s going first and takes charge of the kiosk as they gape at him. You're all watching Bradley with varying degrees of surprise as the alcohol in his veins fuels this bout of confidence.

He grips the microphone, ascending the small stage next to the bar you danced on the last time you were here as the familiar opening guitar riff of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” by Meatloaf fills the bar and he fixes a hard gaze on you as you realize what he has in mind and you smile, nodding at him.

“Well, I remember every little thing as if it only happened only yesterday,” your crowd of friends erupt into rowdy cheers as Bradley croons into the microphone. He reaches out to crook a finger at you and you bounce to your feet, reaching him just in time for him to lean down with the microphone so you can join the harmonies.

“Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night, I can see paradise by the dashboard light.” He reaches his free hand down to you to help you onto the stage before passing you the microphone.

“Ain't no doubt about it we were doubly blessed, 'cause we were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed.” You sing as he grabs the second microphone. You know it’s an almost nine-minute song but Bradley doesn’t show any signs of slowing as you join the performance, your friends going wild from the table.

Mickey brings you both a glass of water as the spoken interlude takes over and the two of you refresh before the next part of the song. You hand him back the glass just in time for you to take the lead.

“Stop right there! I gotta know right now! Before we go any further! Do you love me?” You meet Bradley’s eyes with a fiery gaze as you crow the lyrics. “Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?” You see something shift in his eyes through the alcohol-induced haze as you continue. “Do you love me!? Will you love me forever!? Do you need me!? Will you never leave me!? Will you make me happy for the rest of my life!? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife!? I gotta know right now. Before we go any further, do you love me!? Will you love me forever!?” You step up to him, getting into his face as a part of your performance as your friends lose their minds and the other patrons cheer. Bradley nods softly and it steals your breath as he takes over.

“Let me sleep on it. Baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning. Let me sleep on it. Baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning. Let me sleep on it baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning.” The intensity in his eyes as he falls to his knees is at odds with the words he’s singing and you know he’s promising the opposite of his words as you continue to play your part, tossing the words from earlier back at him in a back and forth.

“Will you love me forever?” You demand.

“Let me sleep on it.” He begs.

“Will you love me forever!” You can’t keep the grin off your face.

Bradley gets off his knees and you feel your heart catch as he crows the next part, his voice blowing you away. “I couldn't take it any longer, Lord I was crazed. And when the feeling came upon me like a tidal wave, I started swearing to my god and on my mother's grave that I would love you to the end of time. I swore that I would love you to the end of time!” Your heart flutters at the sweet words falling from his lips as you watch him with awe and you wonder if this is the Bradley that Logan, Alex, and Wyatt knew in Philadelphia. “So now I'm praying for the end of time to hurry up and arrive 'cause if I gotta spend another minute with you I don't think that I can really survive. I'll never break my promise or forget my vow, but God only knows what I can do right now.” His amber eyes burn into you and you can’t help but simply stand in awe of him. “I'm praying for the end of time, it's all that I can do. Praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you!” The crowd does wild and you join them before joining Bradley for the last few bars as the song faded away in true 70s fashion. The crowd in the bar roars as Bradley takes you in his arms and kisses you hard, dipping you in front of the crowd and the whoops and cheers echo off the walls. This feels like a beginning, a new chapter and you’re excited to see where it goes as your teammates storm the stage, tackling the two of you with hugs and more cheers. You laugh and you don’t remember the last time your heart felt so light. Looking over at Bradley you can see the same thing expressed in his eyes and you feel like you’re finally home.

***

“It’s PINK,” Bradley says for what must be the fifth time and you nod yet again. He’s gazing at the fabric spread out on the bed.

“Technically it’s salmon,” you point out and he just gapes at you. You shrug, not an ounce of mercy in your eyes. “A deal’s a deal, Brashaw.” You watch the fear grip his features before you push up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re going to look amazing.”

It’s New Year’s Eve and spirits are high at the arena. The boys are playing their last game of the year tonight and the locker room is buzzing. The boys have tomorrow off since the only game on New Year’s Day is the Winter Classic. You’re waiting patiently outside the locker room for Bradley. You hear a crow of pure delight from Javy on the other side of the door and you smirk as you imagine his reaction. A few moments later the door swings open and Javy’s wearing a feral smile as he wraps you in a hug.

“I love you, you know that right? It’s like Christmas all over again!” You roll your eyes as you hug him back. The door swings open again and Bradley appears, his cheeks ruddy and matching the salmon suit that makes him cut a dashing figure. His eyes widen as he sees that you’re dressed in a similar shade, the suit new, and you smile at him shyly.

“I thought we could match,” you say with a shrug and he smiles softly for the first time all night. He’s forgone a tie and his shirt is slightly open, exposing his throat and a sliver of his chest that makes your heart flutter in your chest. His curls are perfectly styled and his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides let you know he’s making an active effort to not run them through his hair. “You look so handsome,” you compliment him as you cross over to wrap your arms around him and his cheeks turn red for a different reason. His relaxes a little under your touch but you can tell he’s still uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable,” you whisper so just he can hear, guilt gnawing at your chest slightly even as you’re elated that he complied. After losing at bowling the other day, Bradley was at your mercy to do whatever you wanted. Likely he expected it to be something sexual as the two of you can barely keep your hands off each other these days, but you’d surprised him by asking him to let you choose his suit for their next game. You claimed it was retribution for how much he used to hate your suits, to which he reminded you was no longer his opinion on them.

He wraps his arms around you in return, burying his nose in your neck as he strokes your back gently. “Are you happy?” He asks and it’s genuine. You nod against him.

“Very,” you feel his lips tilt up into a smile against your skin.

“Then I’m okay.” He says and your heart aches. He pulls away and bumps your nose against his, gently. “Shall we go?” You nod, and the locker room door swings open and the other guys start filtering out in their suits. Jake’s eyes soften as he takes in the two of you.

“You guys look adorable,” he compliments, fishing out his phone to snap a picture and Bradley doesn’t argue.

“Oh my god, you guys!” Bugs exclaims as he comes around the corner, hearts in her eyes as she takes in your matching outfits.

“We have to do that sometime.” Jake agrees as he finishes with his pictures. Bugs agrees enthusiastically. “And you need to wear his jersey sometime,” Jake points out to you.

“Oh don’t worry, I have,” you say with a cheeky smile that makes Javy whoop with excitement even as Bradley squeezes your waist. The guys start moving to go get their photos taken before the pre-game press and you lean your head against Bradley’s shoulder. “Good luck, tonight.” You murmur and he leans to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I have my good luck charm, I’ll be fine.” You giggle at that and he pulls you close.

***

Laughter and music are echoing off the walls of Jake’s house. The living room is full of teammates and their families with a combination of children and animals weaving between legs. After the game, everyone met up here to welcome the new year before they’ll eventually head out to enjoy having New Year's Day off. You’re standing in Bradley’s arms, listening to Bob explain the myth of Alaska having six months of darkness. You glance up and you can tell that Bradley’s far away so you gently tug on his sleeve and lead him out the back door to get some air. Jake’s backyard opens out onto a semi-private beach and you slip your hand into Bradley’s as the two of you make your way across the sand. You ditched your heels by the door ages ago and the sand feels cool under your feet. You can’t help but remember the last two times you and Bradley found yourself on the beach as you’re drawn towards the water.

The water is cold as it laps as your toes and you skirt back as Bradley stares wordlessly out at the sea. “Everything okay?” You ask softly as he turns at your words. There’s something you can’t place in his eyes and you’re about to push him gently for an answer when he drops to one knee and your eyes widen. “Bradley. Bradshaw.” Your voice is shaking as you admonish him. His eyes are soft as he squeezes your joined hands.

“I’m not proposing,” he assures you and you let out a shaky breath, “not yet.” He says with a brazen, boyish grin and it steals the breath from your lungs. “But I do want to make you a promise, because you’re it for me, Honey. There’s no one I’ve ever loved more than I love you and like I told you, you’re my family. I will always stand by you and protect you. You’re my everything, and one day I’m going to ask you to be my wife.” Your eyes are full of tears as this perfect man is once again on his knees for you, offering you the whole world. “There’s nothing in my life that’s more important to me. Not myself, not hockey. I don’t believe in fate, but I feel like our moms masterminded this and sent us to each other. I’ve never been so thankful, that I get to love you in this lifetime. A few months ago I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to live anymore and now I don’t think there’s anything I’d rather do than spend every single day I possibly can with you.” He lets go of your hand then, reaching down to shape the damp sand beside him and you smile through the tears cascading down your cheeks as he makes the little sandman, shaping the body and then scooping up twigs and fragments of shells to adorn it. The surf licks up, dampening his pants where he kneels but he’s undeterred. When he finally dusts off his hands after, he stands taking both your hands in his. “You’re my dream, Honey, and I think it’s going to be the sweetest one I’ve ever had.” You smile at him and as he kisses you, you think he might be right.

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it ( Bradley Bradshaw x Reader ) part 9

summary : two years have passed y/n has finished the programme and instead of staying back like she said she would she knew there was no place like home only the faces she most wanted to see were currently on a ship somewhere in the atlantic ocean just for a past video to blow up

summary : more fluffy fluff and no angst , time jump

previous part

Two years later: 

This was different so different to how  it was when she step off the plane four years ago now, standing off the plane feeling the sun hitting her face  and the san diego air hitting her lungs . every stress and worry melting off of her shoulders  , that blonde fucker was right to that place was never home this was even stepping off the plane it was an instant feeling . she did try the whole two years of being in new york she tried  her hardest to make it home but moment her uncle asked if she wanted to stay on or go back she answer probably embarrassingly fast . It wasn’t  all bad they did end up getting more funding and more entertainment to come to the kids but what started it was her favorite. They also got new head of the department six months into the program and actually finally started learning things they should of from the start apparently a skew of nurse report daniel for sexual harassment  not that she was surprised one bit . she even tried dating but it never worked out , like piece of her heart was missing and it was right her in fighter town. 

a bright beaming smile as she headed towards her dad who honestly looked like he was gonna take off and become airborne with how excited he looked . the two heading off to her new house one he view over and over for her . it had to be perfect his words not hers but it wasn't  an apartment it was a home.  some thing permanent to cement the fact she was actually home , sort of planting her own roots in a way . 

the only downside to the whole thing was they wouldn't  be there .  the timing of her coming home and both jake and bradley being deployed to somewhere in the atlantic for three months seemed to merge at same time. promises to hangout when they came back . over the course of  two year she was able to mend herself , build back up friendship with both aviators . both she and jake were best friends again and she and rooster where friends , something was always hung in the air though , something that even that space of time couldn't  stop . 

he knew it , she knew but neither said anything in fear it would ruin what they just got to the base of friendship . and even thought since the programme started so late she didnt get to visit that long or often maybe a few time when she did see him it was awkward at first  then it was got better . keeping in touch by phone , emails , text and facetime ,  something  that would be prolonged for temporary time frame . stepping out of the car there they stood the dagger squad holding beer and pizza in their arms ready to welcome her home and  help unload the box Mav had gotten out of storage for her.  a wave of sadness washed over when she stepped into her new home , when she was coming home first she thought it would be to a shared one not this empty one story house . now that she wasnt going to have that promise made so long ago it wasn't end of the world but it stung a little at a fond memory that never came to the future with her. 

“ you ok?” nat asked arm around her shoulder , yet her face and tone filled with concern . 

“ im good just surreal being home again … for good this time” she smiled softly. 

“ no leaving me with these boneheads i will pull you back kicking and screaming i've been lost without you, really it was torture  “ she beamed as they all rolled their eyes. 

“ they're  not so bad “ y/n mused. “ well now “ she added . 

“ we learned our lesson really we are still so sorry” fanboy gulp still feeling guilty  . 

“ he ugly cried … a lot “ payback blurted out . 

“ im sure it wasn't that bad “ she defended . 

“ it was “ everyone including fanboy called as his own face grew hot and red. 

her first day back at work beth almost crushed her excitedly even marcus got one of the bone crushing hugs from the wonderful and divine nurse . pretty much everywhere she went she was shown once again why it was home. from the hard deck to the hangar restarting an old tradition as she carried the box of food in ton the base nearly first hand viewing  fanboys “ ugly” crying face as he ate , he wasn't the only one it looked like the all would  . she was happy to be there really but honestly it felt like something or some people missing.  the blonde and brunette men she adored more than life itself .  

he woke up the creek in his neck  never would  get used to the bunks on board . sleeping on the floor would be more spacious and comfortable but if he had his had his way he would be home , seeing her , seeing y/n the little comfort she would be there when they got back but still .  he tried dating , he tried moving on , not one of them were it for him not even close  to feeling what he felt for y/n but if she was in his life as his friend he could live with that  it was a month into the deployment he read her letters and email talking about how happy she was to be home and how she definitely  didn’t miss the cold weather of new york , she would tell him about the house something bittersweet to the both of them but he was happy if she was .  Still he hope the feelings would go away  ones that just kept creeping up on his , like she had a hold of him body , mind and soul .  finishing get ready he barely had time to rub his eyes walking lazily down to get breakfast it was strange he could of sworn people were looking at him .  even when he walked into the canteen seeing jake being surrounded by females wasn’t new seem tall and blonde was a favorite anywhere they went . But one did a double take like her eyes lit up and she whispered to the others soon they were all looking at him . 

“ wow it’s really you “ she smiled up at him 

“ sorry do i know you ?” he asked taking his seat. 

“ oh no but we know you “ her friend winked  as he and jake shared a look. 

“ can we get a picture ?” the first woman asked .

“ erm sure why not “ he shrugged thinking people were still talking about the mission he went on with Mav for a while he was a celebrity among his fellow navy officers . 

“ hangman how come you never told us he was your friend “ she cooed arm squeezing bradley arm pulling it from her grasp  as he sat and ate his breakfast. 

“Why would i , it’s just chicken “ he snorted seem to be out of the loop too . 

“ rooster  “ he corrected. 

“ well if you need anything rooster let me know “ she smiled seductively hands gliding on his shoulders. 

“ i’m good thanks though” he shook his head eating his food last thing he needed was a hook up on the ship , yeah she was hot but she wasn’t doing it for him that way . 

Throughout the day it was getting more and more confusing , handshakes and hive fives from people he barely even said hi to or more women given him blatant fuck me eyes as he was in the gym . Even someone said he sounds great it was probably one of the strangest day he ‘d had on the ship in last month . now he was ready to go sleep enter dream world were life was better til jake stormed into his cabin . 

“ you and darling y/n  are viral “ he panted holding the doorframe as bradley shot up in his bunk almost hitting his head. 

“ what you mean viral”. 

It was strange day , from moment she started her morning routine before work walking into the cafe she could of sworn she felt eyes on her the whole time , the barista seemed a little nervous as she took her order . every stop light cars honked at her waving as they drove past . it didn’t stop when she got to work not even a bit she felt like it was worse when she felt the eyes on her and strange comments began from patients, their parents and even coworkers . she could of sworn she heard people humming a familiar tune . she checked herself over in the bathroom probably way too many times thinking it was her clothes or something on her face . it wasn’t til beth and marcus pulled her to the breakroom beaming smiles on their faces . 

“ so you weren’t gonna tell us you were famous huh ?” beth crossed her arms and arched her brow only for y/n to tilt her head in confusion . “ it’s all over that clock app so don’t lie to us missy” . 

“ she means tiktok and every other social media website  shit it’s even on some news outlets “ marcus nodded excitedly. 

“ did you both hit your heads why would i be all over tik tok and news outlets “ she snorted only their eyes widened .

“ shit i thought you were being humble , you really don’t know do you ?” beth asked . 

Before she could say anything further marcus pulled out his phone showing her the video , one taken two years ago in the hospital in new york  , the day bradley and jake came to visit the kids . 

Clear as day it was her and bradley singing great balls of fire and the millions of views that showed making her eyes widen even more she was sure they would pop out and her jaw would fall off and hit the floor . 

“ your famous baby “ beth chuckled as she looked up completely shocked. 

“ the hospital posted it as memory thing along with other entertainers but you and rooster are all over the place its insane “ marcus smirked . 

“ i need to talk to bradley “ she gasped looking down at her own phone seeing messages from everyone from her friends to people she hadn’t spoke to in decades reaching out and yet none of them where who she needed now . 

The moment he got the chance he went to check it out and what was worse was he didn’t even have to search for it .  he couldn’t help smile hearing her voice hit his ears or her smile shit if anything it made him miss her even more and hate his deployment more . He was curious when he hit the comments  and jesus he was going to need  holy water to cleanse himself if he thought the women on deck were bad well the comment section made them look like girl scouts it was just at him hell he seen shit ton about y/n and even about them together . He couldn’t help chuckle at some saying the bumped into them saying they were married couple how he wished he could say it was true  or even in a relationship  at all .

He now sort of understood how the attention on deck changed , some blatant on the fuck me vibes  , some asked him to sing to them it was definitely his strangest deployment that was for sure . yet in the reality of it all , he just wanted to talk to her , make sure she was ok during this whole chaotic situation . so when jake offered to switch call time bradley jumped at the chance. It would of been midnight there he was sure now hoping to even get an answer but the relief hit the moment he saw her face pop on the screen wearing an over sized shirt , hair in a messy bun  showing she was in the comfort of her own home .  looking ever part beautiful to him , wishing he was there in every sense. 

“ roo hey shit ok so happy to finally called but over the last couple of days , you are not going to believe what happen , but trust me it’s real” she said looking wide eyes and nervous . 

“We are viral “ he asked making her nodded with vigor . 

“ good you know but honestly what the fuck “ she broke out laughing. 

“ oh i found out , been hearing it non stop but shit it’s not good as us “ he winked as his head fell back that laugh that made her insides melt . 

“ guess we have the fan base set for out tribute band huh “ she joked. 

“ oh and then some i’ve been offered so much head” he snorted only for her face to fall it was for a spilt second  . “ but i  didn’t except it groupie thing isn’t for me “ he covered almost studying her reaction . 

“ well if we’re bragging i haven’t had to pay for a single drink in hard deck last night … although they tried getting me to sing after a while “ she snorted. 

“ yeah can only sing with me hope you told them that” he winked as she flushed . 

“ of course i did  … you said same right “ she asked . 

“ course told them i only sing with y/n or too her now “ he said watching her eyes soften like something shifting in the conversation almost a flirty air to it . “ you’re ok though cause that really what  i wanted to know ?” he said not being able to take his eyes off of her. 

“ i’m ok it’s strange to say the least it’s a video from two years ago “ she snorted . 

“ have you seen the comments?” he asked feeling brave . 

“ i’m afraid to not gonna lie “ she winced . 

“ mostly positive and some out there but  most positive as i just said other than it’s a pr stunt from the navy and hospitals “ he chuckled. 

“ i wonder if recruitment went up “ she joked . “ i’ll read them “ she added. 

“ good i got  to go sweet girl this is gonna cut out  get some rest and no singing with anyone but me “ he smiled softly . 

“ be safe … and same goe for you “ she said before the call cut .  he could help smiling so widely as he headed down the hall , standing a little taller , something was different and yet similar something from the past , something good . 

“You talked to her” jake smiled . 

“ i think i might be able to get her back “ he beamed . 

She sat on the bed her book long forgotten as she stared at the now blank screen . she could easily pretend it wasn’t that way but something was different , flirty and intimate in that call . like she couldn’t stop herself letting what she wanted out by its own accord and now she felt herself berating herself and yet telling herself at same time it’s what she wants right? .

Hitting the call button  as she sat looking up  at her ceiling . 

“ i think i’m fucked “ was all she said thinking of what to do with her feeling hitting her all at once. 

last part

taglist : @peachmartini @shanimallina87 @kawaiiskeletondragonbanana @paisleebubbles @emosrkool

[deadtwinksdetectiveagency]

hello!! ive been experimenting with a dark!edwin and dark!charles au but never have been able to get out of my damned writing block and actually put ti to use besides my tumblr rp blog

i'd love to see it put in an actual fic

dark!edwin - based off of him realizing that maybe using spells a little more frequently can get him the results that he and the agency needs. "a good detective does what he must to complete the case" "it's just one spell"

dark!charles - based off of his anger and jealously towards anyone who tries to mess with edwin. it's almost like a yandere situation but he's also just willing to be violent and maybe also cause some deaths. "stay away from edwin" "i'll poison you with the flower you gave edwin"

Oooh, I love this idea! Thanks so much! Hope you like xo Warnings: canon-typical violence, murder, immobility

You murmur in your half-sleep, turning your face away from the light into your pillow. Is it already morning? You feel like you’ve gotten about thirty seconds of sleep, limbs still tired and heavy and—

And—

And immobile?

Your heart catches in your throat. You try and wiggle your fingers, but they’re like marble, rigid and rooted. “H—h—”

“It would appear that our subject is awake at last.”

You turn your head so fast your neck burns. Standing on either side of your bed are two teenage boys, one in a suit and bowtie and the other in a dark red polo. An alarm bell goes off in your mind, and you try and focus even as polo boy passes a whole-ass dagger to bowtie boy.

For a moment, your vision shifts. The world skews, distorting diagonally, but the two boys don’t skew with it. You can see through them, though, and it dawns on you: this is a haunting. You blink, and the world goes back to normal.

“Listen,” you croak, “this doesn’t have to end badly.”

Polo boy grins, and your stomach turns. He’s charming, this one, with his easy smile and mobile expression. His nonchalance is more frightening than the other one’s calculating stare and giant book and the faint magic clinging to his fingertips.

“Don’t worry,” polo boy says. “Just hang in there, and you’ll be fine.” He pats your shoulder, voice dropping to a mock whisper. “Edwin’s gotten real good at this. It should only hurt… a bit.”

“Charles, as much as I appreciate your bedside manner, would you kindly step back?”

Bowtie boy—Edwin—sets his book down on your bedside table. You crane your neck, and you can make out just enough words to make your skin crawl.

Enough.

As Edwin begins to chant, you let out a slow breath and reach deep for the pit of power that spools in your chest. Magic uncurls like a cereus flower at night, flowing through you like a second blood, and as Edwin’s voice rises to a crescendo you bolt upright, hands clamping instinctively around his throat to silence whatever spell he’s casting.

Edwin reaches up and clutches your wrists, eyes wide, sputtering. Dark glee courses through you, and you laugh breathlessly.

“I told you,” you tell him, “this doesn’t have to end ba—”

CRACK.

Your body crumples, and you watch in horror. That’s you, you, sprawled on your bed, blood seeping onto the pillow from the back of your head, eyes glassy, chest unmoving.

You—

What?

Charles drops his cricket bat and vaults over the bed as Edwin peels your spectral, trembling hands from his neck. There’s no sign of your chokehold left, just pale skin. You sit heavily on your bed, dread settling where your power used to be as you stare at the two boys who’ve killed you.

“Hm,” Edwin says. He fixes his collar and fixes you with a sharp glare until Charles grabs his shoulders, brown eyes wide with concern. Edwin’s expression softens at once.

“You okay, mate?” Charles asks. His hand hovers by Edwin’s neck like an uncertain bird until Edwin takes it tenderly.

“Yes, thank you.”

The two of them turn to look at you in eerie tandem. Charles looks like he’d happily murder you again; Edwin just looks disappointed. You don’t bother trying to stand. Whatever they were trying to do, they’ve failed, and there’s no fixing it.

No fixing you.

Somewhere to your left, a blue light starts to glow.

“Time to go,” Charles says, tucking the book and bat into his backpack.

Edwin phases through your closed door, and before he goes, Charles looks at you again with a horrible smug meanness on his face that makes you lean away.

“Go to hell,” he says, and you tremble as he follows Edwin out.

Go to hell?

It’s not a threat.

It’s a promise.