#powe dynamics

[crimsondinnerparty]

Gideon in *Antipasto* is an absolute force, and it’s such a delicious irony that he, the man with no limbs and nowhere to run, has Hannibal completely on edge. Gideon’s presence is the ultimate power move. Every word, every utensil tap is a challenge, a reminder to Hannibal that he’s no longer the puppeteer pulling all the strings.

Hannibal’s reaction when Gideon refuses to be cowed—his fumbling “you still have to eat”—is not just desperate; it’s telling. Hannibal, who thrives on control, is visibly rattled by a man who’s supposed to be powerless. And when Gideon taps those utensils, it’s like a slap in the face, a reminder that Hannibal’s carefully crafted world is slipping through his fingers. Gideon’s sharp “Why do you think I’m allowing this?” slices deeper than any knife, and Hannibal’s empty response shows just how lost he is—because Gideon’s not just sitting there; he’s indulging Hannibal’s pathetic need for an audience, for companionship, in the most twisted way possible.

Hannibal’s arrogance has always been his defining trait, but this scene strips him down. Compare it to *Aperitif*, where Hannibal is reveling in his solitude, dining on his secretary’s offals, radiating superiority. It’s all gone now. After Will Graham shattered his defenses, exposed his weaknesses, and took a sledgehammer to his heart, Hannibal’s left grappling with a stark new reality. He’s reduced to this shadow of himself, sharing joyless, empty meals with a man who’s more interested in psychological warfare than in the food. Gideon hurls truths at him like weapons: that Hannibal’s dining games are nothing but a sad parody, a hollow echo of his former grandeur.

Gideon’s relentless needling cuts through Hannibal’s pretense, exposing a rawness we rarely see in the cannibal. Gideon knows he’s living on borrowed time, and he uses every second to tear into Hannibal’s ego. He’s not just some victim; he’s a mirror to Hannibal’s own emptiness. And let’s not forget the meta-layer here—Gideon’s awareness of Hannibal’s desperate need for an audience mirrors the way Hannibal manipulates others but can’t handle it when the tables are turned.

[m-kuprum]

councilor medarda also gets clingy sometimes

or maybe viktor just has a type

also just the viktor sketch alone because he was fun to draw (don't mind my emotional support wendigoon)

[lastlifesmp]

The Sheriff: Scott's Backstory/Summary for Cowboy SMP

@ratkingthedestroyerofworlds asked if people had a summary of each of the Coyboy SMP characters to share and oh boy do I! So here is one for Scott Smajor's character because I am so enthralled by this series so far.

He does seem to be in some sort of power struggle with Poliver (the Mayor), as he frequently insults the man, but also follows most of what he is told to do by him. They have very conflicting views on how they would prefer to handle Pity and it's residents, but seem to know each other better than anyone else so far having grown up in the same town their whole lives.

Starting off:

Scott is the Sheriff of the town of Pity, and has lived there his whole life. His father was the Sheriff before him, and presumably died a couple years ago, leaving Scott to take up the mantle. He wears his father's old hat, and that is seemingly his only possession beyond his horse Ranger, and his bow after the dustorm blew through and destroyed the whole town.

We do not currently know how his father died, but Scott seems to look up to him a lot, and is quite protective over both the town and its residents, immediately declaring he does not trust newcomers, both in character, and out of character. Showing this, he says out of towners should refer to him as the Sheriff only, while multiple Pity residents openly call him Scott.

Scott however is not fully opposed to trusting new people, it just seems the combination of the duststorm and so many arriving based on a lie from the Mayor have put him on high alert. He is still very polite and cordial to everyone he's met, often putting himself in danger immediately to protect even the new folk from monsters. Many of the Pity residents have only arrived less than a year ago and do have Scott's full trust. So it seems it will be up to the new townfolk and how they behave for how quickly the Sheriff will warm up to them or not.

With the Mayor missing by the end of the first streams and everyone being stuck together, Scott does seem to have taken it upon himself to be the sole town protector. Unfortunately that also means the townsfolk are now also going to him for any problem with other members they have, and with that chaotic group, there are plenty of problems to be had. So wish the Sheriff good luck!

[sofonn]

I LOVE THE CREW I LO- (Im only on 20th episode but feel free to tag spoiler things I love spoilers)

[yippee-optimistically]

broppy 😿 trolls 3 was sooo good i spent like 5 hours watching all the movies back to back and you should too

bonus bruce ↓

[wolvebonez]

geninuely what do minecraft fans get out of pretending these cishet white men are gay or trans when theres plenty of actual gay & trans creators out there help me GOD !!!!!!!!!!

[discountsoysauce]

I dont think enough people are talking about how great an Acho and Graecie duo would be and I am here to forcibly bring attention to this

[slvbum]

Phone inspection ♡ Rafe Cameron!

content WARNING; voracious!rafe, toxic relationship, deep throat, throat fucking, degradation, powe dynamics, dick slapping, +18 MDNI.

Rafe didn’t trust anyone, least of all Y/N. Checking her phone was routine, a habit he’d drilled into their relationship like a fucking law. She’d hand it over without a fight, fingers trembling as she unlocked it for him, knowing he’d scroll through every text, every app, every dirty little corner of her digital life. Usually, it was boring shit— selfies with her friends, some sappy playlist, a few flirty texts she’d sent him late at night when he was out handling business. But today, he found something that made his blood run hot.

Tumblr.

She’d never mentioned it, never even hinted at it. The app sat there, buried in a folder labeled “Random,” like she thought he wouldn’t notice. He tapped it open, and the first thing that hit him was a photo; a girl on her knees, tongue lolling out like a goddamn slut, face dripping with thick, white cum. Her eyes were glazed, fucking submissive. His grip tightened on the phone, knuckles whitening. His girlfriend had been hiding this shit from him, his sweet, innocent girl, scrolling through filth like some secret slut.

He didn’t say a word when he tossed the phone back to her. She was sprawled on the couch, legs tucked under her, hair spilling over her shoulders, wearing one of his oversized shirts that barely covered her ass. Those big eyes flicked up at him, catching the storm in his face, but she didn’t have time to ask before he was on her.

“Get on your fucking knees,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her off the couch. She yelped, stumbling to the floor, her hands scrambling for balance as he dragged her down.

“Rafe, what—” she started, but he cut her off, unzipping his jeans with one hand, the other still tangled in her hair, pulling so hard her scalp burned. His cock sprang free, already half-hard from the image seared into his brain and the fact that Y/N had kept it from him.

Secrets. He hated secrets.

“You think you can hide shit from me?” he spat, shoving her face toward his dick. Her lips parted on instinct, a soft whimper escaping, but he didn’t care. He thrust forward, slamming into her mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat so fast she gagged, eyes watering instantly. “Tumblr, huh? Looking at girls taking cum like good little sluts? That what you want, baby?”

She tried to pull back, choking, spit dripping down her chin, but he held her there, fingers digging into her skull. Her tongue flattened against him and he groaned, fucking her throat harder, the wet gluck-gluck of her gagging filling the room. Her hands grabbed at his thighs, nails digging in, but she didn’t fight—didn’t want to either.

“Obedient,” he mocked, mimicking the caption as he rammed himself deeper, feeling her throat spasm around him. “That’s what you wanna be, right? Some dumb slut with her tongue out, begging for it?”

Her mascara streaked down her cheeks, mixing with the drool and pre-cum leaking from her stretched lips. She so looked wrecked, those pretty eyes wide and pleading, but he didn’t slow down.

“You don’t get to keep secrets, baby. You’re mine—every fucking thought, every dirty little fantasy.”

He pulled out just long enough for her to gasp, a string of spit connecting her mouth to his cock, before he shoved back in, deeper this time, holding her head flush against him until her nose pressed into his pelvis. She thrashed, throat convulsing, but he didn’t let up, his balls tightening as he watched her struggle.

“Take it,” he snarled. “Take it like that bitch on your phone.”

When he finally came, it was messy, flooding her throat, spilling out the corners of her mouth as she coughed and sputtered. He yanked her off, letting her fall back onto her heels, chest heaving, face a fucking mess; cum dripping down her chin, lips swollen, eyes red. She stared up at him, dazed, just like the girl in the photo. He smirked, wiping his dick on her cheek and slapping her with it before stepping back.

“Next time, you tell me what you’re into,” he said. “Or I’ll fuck it out of you again.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ©slvbun — written with love.

[wholemeallbread]

★ BOOM BOOM POW !?

guitarist!itoshi rin x drummer!reader texts

notes ... crack, fluff, rin buys the reader lipstick/the reader wears lipstick, playful banter, rin is WHIPPED, i was thinking about a shadow/sonic dynamic but i failed, a tiny tiny suggestive mention on one of them

@cherrysurf oops i forgor to tag u

[daylighteclipsed]

I didn’t want to add to the og post bc it’s already long and not focused on this. But this post made me realize most of Sora and Riku’s softer/shippy moments do not in fact happen in the Realm of Light. KH1 takes place mostly in the Light, but the boys act as rivals/enemies. Their dynamic starts to shift after this, but CoM takes place in Castle Oblivion, which is the Realm Between. In KH2, Riku aids Sora from the dark until their reunion in the World That Never Was, which is the Realm Between. The Dark Margin talk happens in the Realm of Darkness. DDD is the Realm of Sleep… Compared to Sora and Kairi who share more moments in the Light, this trend is very interesting.

Sora and Riku’s dynamic in DDD carries over to KH3, and arguably, it’s a little more in the Light than before. No big moments (that are acknowledged in-game, at least), but I would say it’s starting to leave the shadows with Sora being teased by Donald and Goofy for finding Riku attractive and always listening to Riku, the reminders that Riku is always at the back of Sora’s mind throughout the game, and Sora’s discomfort when Kairi offers him a paopu fruit (with Riku nearby on the beach… who Sora starts this scene looking at and thinking about). Those are moments that happen in the Light. But the big ones still happen in the Dark… or are forgotten.

Sora saves Riku in the Realm of Darkness. He uses the Power of Waking to do this, which is honestly a huge deal. That’s Sora’s entire goal for most of KH3 — to gain the PoW and regain the strength he lost in DDD. It complements Riku gaining the PoW by wanting to save Sora in DDD, and it parallels Hercules getting his strength back because he wants to save Meg. But the fact that Sora’s goal is achieved here is unacknowledged in the game, to the point where it seems to go over a lot of people’s heads. It even went over my head the first time I played KH3. (Side note: I wonder if it says something that the Combined Keyblade, which symbolizes Sora and Riku’s relationship, has only been summoned in the Realm of Sleep and the Realm of Darkness so far. We’ve never seen it in the Light.)

Riku’s True Love sacrifice for Sora in the Keyblade Graveyard is in the Realm of Light, but it’s ultimately forgotten. This sacrifice saves Sora. It’s the reason light prevails over the dark and our heroes win in the end. And it’s totally unacknowledged in the game. It’s implied Sora sees something in the tunnel of light when he reaches for Riku, but that also seems to be forgotten. Not only is that in the physical dark, but we are left in the dark as to what Sora sees. It’s out of frame, outside the bounds of the story presented to us. The shadows of the shadows. As the audience, we literally and figuratively do not have the full picture.

These parts of KH3 are practically erased, almost like they never happened. Almost like they cannot happen. (The KH3 graphic novel actually does erase Riku’s sacrifice from the story.) And I do think that’s very, very interesting in the context of KH taking place in the Disney fairytale universe. Even in the Realm of Darkness, even in the shadows within this reality, there’s only so far the boundary can be pushed. A queer relationship has to remain subtext (Darkness). It can’t exist on the surface (Light). It can’t significantly impact the story. The story can’t be about that. Not in this world.

I’m sure I’m not the only one that jokes about Sora and Riku getting together in Quadratum because it’s (from their pov) Unreality. But it’s not a joke either, right, because this is a different world, made up of things that don’t exist in Disney fairytale land with all its traditional cishetero relationships and happy endings… This is a world where a queer relationship could happen. Because it’s not “real.”

Let’s take this a step further.

If we’re interpreting Darkness as a metaphor for subtext in a story while Light is what’s on the surface, that makes Reality canon stories and Unreality the opposite. Ideas that never make it past the conceptual stages or drafts, that are never published or coded, for whatever reason (like how Verum Rex seems based on Nomura’s Versus XIII, which was cancelled irl)… or existing stories and ideas that are so forgotten/lost to time that they may as well have never existed (like Strelitzia and the Lost Masters). Unreality is the other side of creation.

On a textual level, Sora and Riku’s relationship in DDD carrying over to KH3, with increasing moments in the Light, is a queer relationship starting to be consciously realized by both characters. On a metatextual level, it’s a queer relationship starting to be made more explicit by a creator… before it’s hit by censors, sentenced to the limbo of what could be. From this perspective, it would be extremely meta for Sora and Riku to get together (or for romantic feelings to be confirmed, at least) in a universe that represents unrealized/lost ideas while their relationship struggled to exist beyond subtext in a universe that represents what’s “real”/canon.

What the Master of Masters says about Light and Darkness is also interesting from this perspective. Light and Dark are not supposed to reach Quadratum, but they do. Reality is not supposed to touch Unreality, but it does. The line between what’s real and what’s not, what’s canon and what’s not, is blurring. Versus XIII lives through Verum Rex. Sora (“real”) meets Nameless Star (“unreal”) in the Final World. Sora and Strelitzia, stuck in Unreality, are characters from a “real” story that haven’t been completely forgotten. Riku (“real”) has dreams about Sora (“unreal” atp), and Riku crosses from Reality into Unreality to find Sora while still remaining “real” (not erased from Reality/canon).

I actually think Strelitzia kinda represents when a beta/draft character is replaced by the final one. Ultimately, Ventus takes her role in the canon story, and she is erased from it. But that beta/draft character was still created, so it still “exists” even though it’s not in the story. And the bonds you, as the creator, imagined them forming with other characters if they were in the story still exist (Strelitzia is remembered by Laurium, Elrena, and Ventus). It’s also not lost on me that Strelitzia is, technically, a queer character because she’s in love with the UX Player regardless of gender. So it feels like she is erased and replaced specifically due to censorship/executive meddling in this allegory for the creative process. But I digress.

I do think it’s significant that the Final World rests on the edge of Sleep and Death, and that Riku reaches Sora in Unreality through the Realm of Sleep. Dreams and Unreality are pretty similar. Both are made of what you hope, imagine, wish, want to be real. The biggest difference is dreams are subconscious and Unreality, I think, represents conscious ideas that are never made real or are forgotten. A world of lost dreams and desires, brimming with possibility and potential… Moving from the allegorical subconscious to the conscious-but-not-acted-upon reflects the evolution of Riku’s feelings in particular. He knows how he feels about Sora, but he does not believe his feelings could ever be reciprocated. So he’s in the world where dreams remain fantasy. For now.

If Sora and Riku represent a censored queer relationship, then I think them getting together in Unreality (and presumably making it back to their own world/Reality in the Light) would be like saying you can’t erase what’s already in the story, what’s already real. You can try. You can downplay, ignore, dismiss, censor, try to forget, but those moments still happened. Those feelings still exist. That bond still exists. Nothing can change that. KH3 sure dropped some big Sora/Riku moments that require follow up to make narrative sense. There’s no taking those back.

KH is also really big on the idea that reality is subjective. Nomura said in an interview about KH4 that Yozora’s world is fictional to Sora, but Sora’s world is fictional to Yozora. What’s real to one person is fantasy to another. And in the end, it doesn’t really matter who’s right, because if you believe something is real, that makes it real. So I think you can also see “soriku canon in Unreality” as like meta commentary on fanfiction too, from this perspective. It’s not “canon,” but it’s still “real.” Obviously, it would be canon because all of KH is canon, but in this allegorical take, as long as the boys are in Unreality, it wouldn’t represent “canon.” Does that make sense? My head kind of hurts.

Of course I’m not claiming this reading (Darkness is subtext, Reality is canon, etc.) is intentional. It could be, but either way I think it’s really fun to view KH through a meta lens like this.

[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

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Animorphs #3: The Encounter thoughts (pt. 3):

Tobias is such a friggin' puritan. He's all "the human mind" this, "the hawk mind" that (p. 84, emphasis added) and I think part of what upsets him so much about killing a rat the first time is the sheer atavistic pleasure of doing something his body wants to do for once. He's not disgusted by rats as food but by "the ecstasy of the hunt. Ecstasy!" (p. 91). Tobias "the flesh is weak" "existence is a prison" Fangor needs to lighten up and learn to enjoy things sometimes, honestly. This team needs an Ax.

The moment where Marco throws the baseball has stuck with me for, like, decades. He and Tobias "will probably never be very close" (p. 16), he "doesn't want to be an Animorph" (p. 29), but he doesn't hesitate for a second to put himself in danger to save Tobias's life. Breaking the skylight isn't just selfless; it's reckless. Completely unlike Marco. But Tobias is in danger, and Marco — being Marco — has no choice.

Again, we see the team dynamics forming: Tobias cannot help needling Jake about how "I don't like this plan... maybe we should back off" (p. 111), and Jake cannot help getting annoyed because "I know it's not exactly ideal" and "Tobias, you were in on the planning right from the start". Buckle up for three more years of this, boys.

Tobias being heartbroken over the hork-bajir host losing his life because the yeerk in his head made a mistake is yet another moment that makes this series unique. You can kill POWs to hurt the enemy, or you can give up. Those are the only two options.

P. 149 mentions Marco having a bald eagle morph. Which won't come up again until #54, but apparently this was a thing that happened off-screen. Go figure.

RIP Tobias you would've loved "Both Sides Now" by Joni Mitchell.

Animorphs books can be read here | Book Club schedule is here

[devotedfem]

Isn't a threat a promise? - masterlist

Genre & Themes: Assassins and Hitman, organized crime, mafia, hidden identity, secrets, gangsters, power dynamics, polyamorous.

Major TW: A lot of violence (given the context), murder, very morally ambiguous characters, unhealthy relationships and coping mechanisms, toxicity from both parties, not safe and not sane, punishment, yandere tendencies, past traumas.

Pairing: BTS OT7 x female reader.

You have many names; lives and targets, but you were just an orphan, bred to kill. Your job was easy; chase a target, bond with them, kill them, and earn the money.

Repeat.

They're the hardest target you ever had, but the catch was sweeter with a chase. Isn't it?

But easy there; you really think they're the prey? Be careful, or they may trap you into your own game.

"Traitors don't deserve to live"; they say after all. But you just loved the thrill of it all, don't you?

—Where you're an assassin hired to finish the mysterious and poweful gang of seven eccentric men, but you're oblivious of how unpunishable and untouchable they were.

Chapters

—First bullet.

—Second bullet.

—Third dagger.

–Fourth dagger.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @itlover8000 @monochromaticfawn

[hingabee]

idk if ive said this before But I do think that in a weird way you could consider Damar to be the one character that truly understood Ziyal.

He killed her, oops, yes. Now, hear me out! 🥴 All of her close associations kind of... disservice her with how they perceive and treat her...

Dukat is the most obvious, and we don't need to go into much detail to see how his deluded narcissism has him treat her as an accessory and means to an end (one that is sometimes so inconvenient he'd rather see her dead), even if I do believe he genuinely loves her in his own messed up way. And in the end when he finds out that she's "betrayed him and Cardassia" he still says he loves her. Gotta give it to him, even if he's convinced he could change her mind later on, it's still pretty meaningful from someone like Dukat. But he's too focused on Ziyal being "his", Dukat's, and not herself.

Garak is dismissive of her and her feelings, and while he has a right to reject her, obviously, he does it in a way that painfully infantilises her. Yes, she's 20/21 and much too young for him. Yet, instead of doing the responsible thing and enforcing his boundaries by putting some healthy distance between them he himself is so needy and desperate for her company that he just... keeps engaging. I don't wanna say he's leading her on, because he's quite clear about not returning her feelings, but personally (and we're venturing into headcanon territory here) I find it... not nice that he simply blames her young age relative to his instead of giving a proper, truthful reason. (In true Garak fashion, of course. But i.e. "I just don't feel the same" or straight up "I'm gay." would've been nice, even if the latter clearly couldn't be done, lol.) Obviously it's a bit more complicated, but the main reason he's close to her appears to be for his own convenience. Not because he cares so much about her. (Their relationship in canon sadly lacked more exploration, but working of what we got really just is... kind of depressing.) Too focused on Ziyal's Cardassian "side".

And then there's Kira. Sighhh. She genuinely loves Ziyal, probably in the most selfless way. But she also projects heavily onto her. Literally doesn't want Ziyal to learn about combat, even when Ziyal asks to be taught. (Do you think Kira regrets this after Ziyal dies?) Understandable, of course, but it does Ziyal a little bit of a disservice to be viewed as nothing but a young Kira to be shielded from war and mayhem, and not as herself — someone who spent most of their young life in a POW camp and whose literal existence is a result of the Occupation. Kira isn't doing this intentionally, and I find it easy to forgive her, because the way she treats Ziyal is the most "beneficial" for Ziyal's mental wellbeing here. Still, it's not fair to Ziyal to be so involved in Kira's own insecurities and regrets/trauma. Too focused on Ziyal's Bajoran "side". It's just overall sad to see, although I find with time the two of them definitely could've improved individually and together. Even if that would've made their dynamic less spicy, lol.

And then there's Damar, lol. Good ol' "sneering at Bajorans" Damar. He sees Ziyal as what she is— a pathetic, defiant bastard mix. In his own horrible way he's nasty to her for being half-Bajoran, but keeps getting hung up on her also being a "superior" Cardassian like her father. He teaches her knife tricks, and Dukat want's her to escort her to events. He's jealous of her. It's crazy that he's the only one who doesn't have ulterior motives, purposefully or not. Their relationship is barely explored in canon, obviously, but what little we do get to see is so interesting. Ziyal is nasty to him towards the end, and Damar treats her as exactly the person she wants to be perceived as because he sees her motives and morals and true alignment. He condems her for it, sure, but he doesn't project any of his own delusions or insecurities onto her. To him she is a threat to Dukat's and Cardassia's fragile stability, and thus must be eliminated.

Imagine the only person who actually sees you for who you are, and understands what you want and value, is also your crazy father's racist, alcoholic lackey. He hates you for it. And then he kills you. Man.

[cyren-myadd]

A3 will "Deepen" Spider and Quaritch's Relationship "For Better or For Worse"

Read the article HERE!

yall I decided to take a break from social media for a week while I visited my family, and I figured nothing was gonna happen while I was gone since the Avatar fandom's been so dry lately. Imagine my surprise when this is literally the first thing I see when I open instagram after getting back from my trip!!

I have too many thoughts I'm just gonna blurb them all here

first off, this scene either means Spider got captured by Quaritch AGAIN! OR it means Spider willingly went with Quaritch for some reason and obviously isn't thrilled about it, and yikes, I don't know which option is worse! I'd hate to see him captured AGAIN after being a prisoner for so long, but I also don't want to think about what circumstances would lead to him willingly going with Q...

The very second thing I noticed was Quaritch's awesome hoodie, its got the recom logo on it, idk why its so funny to see him in casual clothing lmao. I want one of those. Q looks like he's trying to be a cool dad for his teen who's not buying it lol

anyways, getting more serious, Q just looks all happy and proud of himself, and his body language looks like he's trying to cajole spider into cheering up or doing something for him. At first glance, it looks like a nice scene, but when you stop and think about the context, it feels a little more sinister

What did quaritch do to get spider here? why's he trapped in bridgehead again? The room looks like yet another holding cell, so he's clearly reduced back to his weird POW/mascot status. What's Q trying to get spider to do now? Why does poor spider look so upset? Sir, can you not try to kidnap your child for 5 seconds 😭

Awhile ago I made a post speculating that Quaritch might respect Spider's decision to stay with the sullies and let him be as long as he's safe, but this image makes me think thats not happening!

But ANYWAY, onto Spider!

The metkayina tatt!! The seashells in his hair! The new loincloth! baby boy is getting accepted we love to see it

but uhhh somebody on reddit pointed out that if you look carefully at his wrists you can see the skin is red/bruised like he was handcuffed or tied down, poor boyyy😭😭😭

And I know this is just a still, but he looks so beaten down and tired of Quaritch's shit, he needs a break

Here's what Stephen Lang had to say in the interview:

“They reconnect out of necessity, their connection is not a solo connection. There are times when everybody comes together on some level. But, when enemies cooperate, you can be sure betrayal is just around the corner.”

So it's not just Spider and Quaritch who will reconnect, and I'm betting he's alluding to the leaked scene of Jake and Quaritch being forced to team up. But from the sound of it, that alliance is not going to last very long, which isn't surprising at all knowing Quaritch. Oh well, it'll be cool to see while it lasts

“Spider confuses Quaritch, but Quaritch wants clarity. There is something about Spider that Quaritch really loves — not a word we associate with him. I think respect and admiration really develop in spades, as well as animosity and manipulation. The relationship will deepen — for better or worse.”

Woop, there it is, basically lines up with what I was anticipating. Quaritch is confused, but deep down he really loves, respects, and admires Spider, and I think he'll be more willing to admit it after he called him son at the end of A2. However, there will also be animosity and manipulation, presumably meaning that even though Q genuinely loves Spider, he's still going to try to manipulate him into aligning with his goals, which won't end well for poor Spider. Aaaaaghhhh I love and hate these kinds of character dynamics: the love is there, the love is real, but it's not going to save their relationship because Quaritch can't let go of his villainous side. It's gonna be so tragic! I can't wait to see how it all pans out!

[jynmelshian]

the thing about melshian is that melshi comes across as a very serious, loyal, devoted person who sets his eye on something he wants and does anything he can to get it — unless he knows for sure that he can't. he needs confirmation, or hope, that what he wants is achievable, otherwise he won't even try. hence how he's so adamant to tell cassian that there's no hope of escaping. he's 100% sure there's no point in thinking about it, so he wants to make sure no one else is wasting their time with it. and then this changes when cassian flips the whole operation round on its head and shows him that there IS a way out, there IS a reason to hope. and then melshi shows no hesitation in helping with the escape plan and fighting his way out. he seems to me like someone with quite a one track mind, stubborn but sensible. and then cassian is flighty like this is a core aspect of his character. he doesn't stay in one place, he doesn't stay in one relationship, he's not good at vulnerability, and up until the narkina 5 arc he has run away from every sign that the rebellion IS right and IS his calling and IS the only way to be free. he is deeply loyal to a few select people, but even in those dynamics he finds it hard to commit, and he certainly can't commit to a cause at the beginning of the show. narkina is the first time we see him step up to the mantle, take the reins and fight not only for his own freedom, but for the freedom of everyone around him. before, the acts of rebellion he's taken have been selfishly motivated but also out of loyalty to at least one person: avenging clem as a teenager, and getting money and clearing his name to protect himself and maarva. one could argue that there was still selfish motivations in stirring revolt at narkina, because he wanted to be free and knew that the only way for him to get out would be to take everyone else with him, but i think any potential selfish motivation went out the window when he realised how much he'd need all the help he could get. and it showed that he can be a team player and can be a leader - or at least a stepping stone for other leaders to function and progress the cause.

and who is by his side as he steps into this role? melshi. even with the little glimpse we get into melshi as a man, it's apparent how well they complement each other. the wordless conversations they have, the way cassian's conversations with kino reveal so much about melshi's ideology and the way he expresses himself and what he shares with cassian, it all points to a man of ideals, someone who refuses to conform and maintains his pride and takes shit from no oppressive system. he's untethered because we get no insight into his life outside of narkina, but we understand the level of dedication he shows to the things he cares about, and how he's obviously already fired up and ready to rebel since long before cassian showed up, he just needed a spark. as duncan pow put it, he was waiting for someone like cassian to show up, to show him that someone else does think like him, someone else is not going to stand for how narkina 5 treats them, and that someone is giving melshi permission to stand up. he's sort of the perfect foil for cassian if you think about it. and i do think about it.

and it culminates in the scene on the cliff face: "stop saying that" becomes "tell me they're leaving". if melshi is the no bullshit, won't waste his time on idealism if he doesn't think it's achievable, probably the least optimistic guy but definitely the most headstrong and stubborn, than of course he'd find cassian's constant "they're leaving" at the very least annoying, because he's convinced himself they're going to get caught and he's not going to be able to climb back up. but there's something kind of idealistic about cassian, how he's fundamentally pragmatic but also optimistic, something that's established in the scene where he tells maarva he has enough money for them to "get away". and the loyalty we've only ever seen him show to his family and closest friends on ferrix now extends to his fellow rebel and escapee and manifests as giving hope, and that rubs off on melshi, because how can it not? it actually makes a difference, hearing cassian say they're leaving, even if they're not. it's the hope that counts, and it's the fact that he has someone there as constant reassurance. a constant reminder that he's not in this alone and he no longer needs to hide behind his own rationalisation and pessimism to survive. there really is hope, and cassian is a walking reminder of it.

and to think that they reunite in the rebellion a little way down the line, and die on the same day for the same cause, and it all started in a slave revolt and a prison break and one man giving another man hope. it's a beautiful and underrated dynamic, i think.