#swordoaths

[hawkinsingenue]

@swordoaths mused: (From Max!) “I’m   already   in   too   deep.”

She was worried that Max was going to say that, and she knows that worry is evident in the way her lips twitch. Her first instinct is to frown, but she knows she can't do that because when she was Max's age, she didn't want pity and she's sure Max doesn't either. Ally takes a breath, running her fingers through her hair and then tugging at it a little before she lets herself speak up.

“Then let me be in deep with you. No one should have to be alone, especially if it means feeling like they're drowning.” Perhaps there's a little experience in there, but she just wants to help.

[bilified]

* 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗗. / @swordoaths.

The moment he'd passed that sign in the Camaro, a heavy sense of dread had befallen Billy. The town where everything had happened... ironically, making Hawkins more interesting than California, but in all the worst ways. Initially, when Joyce, El, Will and Jonathan busied themselves with helping out from both California and some remote part of Soviet Russia, Billy had done his best not to get involved. It was far easier to buy some weed from Argyle, drink a few beers and just try to forget.

But California just wasn't the same. Surfing came with a dose of discomfort when it meant showing still-healing wounds decorating his torso. His old friends all lived somewhere else or had gone to college or gotten jobs. And... there was no Maxine here, either. He'd never want to admit it to her, but she really had become a fixture in his life that once Billy would have found irritating and little else, but now he can't imagine being home without her. It's not home unless she's there.

It was the news that Max had been hurt that finally dragged Billy from his slump and back into action, even if the thought of facing another creature like the last, and the way it had so easily forced him to do what it wanted, terrified him like nothing else ever had. Except maybe his father. So he'd decided to return, to finish the fight, no matter what. Entering the hospital and finding his way to Max's room where she was apparently in a fragile, comatose state with broken bones, Billy was sure he could hear his own heart pounding. They'd bickered pretty much non-stop, but he seems to have reached a point where he wouldn't tolerate anyone else hurting her.

He remembers the last thing that happened before he'd passed out and almost died in the mall. He'd told her he was sorry; a genuine gesture he thought would be his last, and he'd seen the fear in her own eyes when he did. After that, things were a blur. A hospital stay, Neil's swift departure from Hawkins when other injuries were found and his years of physical abuse threatened to reveal themselves, and after he was healed enough, he couldn't stay in the town anymore. It really did feel cursed.

But here he is, walking down the hallway and looking like a different person; his hair shorter and his jeans looser, wearing a black button-up shirt and no pendant necklace — removed after finally deciding to let go of his mother. If Max woke up, would she tell him to leave? Would she want him here? Did she accept his apology? The thought grinds to a halt when Billy stops outside her room and slowly enters... only to find she already has a visitor. A very familiar visitor. “...Harrington?”

[nerdplay]

* 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗗. / @swordoaths.

Generally, Keys isn't a person many would brand 'stupid.' He wouldn't consider himself to be, either. When a person walks into a town they've never seen, the obvious and natural conclusion would simply be that they'd strayed a bit far from their usual area, and with his phone being left behind and the mystery town having nothing but ancient-looking payphones, he could be forgiven for simply assuming this was a sleepy little rural town somewhat behind the times in comparison to Boston... right? But then the newspaper arrived, and finally, everything made sense. Well, everything but his striking resemblance to his new friend, of sorts.

But... it also really doesn't make sense. How the hell could it? Dark eyes scan the small print at the top of the 'Hawkins Post', and his chest tightens, heart pounding, and mind and heart swimming with a million thoughts and feelings as he reads that date over and over. November 1984. Confusion. Fear. Disbelief. Panic. Panic. Panic.

He barely hears the sound of the other approaching until Steve is right there, and Keys visibly jumps at the sudden company, face pale and breathing slightly elevated. Keys licks over his lips, preparing to speak; even though it's the last thing he wants to ask, and the answer is the last thing he wants to hear. He holds up the print for Steve to study. “Hey, uh... is this...” Just say it. There's no way it can be true. “....from today?”

[admirableringmaker]

@swordoaths for Tauriel

Dark were the paths that led to the ruined fortress. A trail of dead spiders litter the path, slain by elven arrows. But their sisters remained, scuttling in the trees and shadows, sinking into the depths of the dark pits to find their master and tell him of the elves that had ventured into his newest home.

The Necromancer. A human sorcerer, most claimed. But for now, it seemed it might be true. The darkness that lay on the walls seemed to have receded as the elves drew closer. In the dungeons, the bodies of the dead lay, dwarf and man and elf. Most distorted beyond recognition. Only one remained alive, shackled in the furthest, darkest cell. An elf. His hair was grey and his eyes pale, his face mutilated and scarred, his hands also.

His quivering voice called out into the darkness.

"Is someone there? Help!"

[magicveiined]

Estella's chest heaved with each breath as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. An hard ask as she stood with her back pressed against the far wall of the little cottage they'd run to trying to escape not only wargs and orcs but now a giant bear that was chasing them. A bear that according to Gandalf was actually their host.

@swordoaths: said “Whatever luck you live by… let’s hope it lasts the night."

With a great sigh she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Luck indeed, she had been very lucky up until this point but was it truly luck on her side? "It doesn't really feel like I'm very lucky right now, Fili." She said softly looking up with him with watery eyes. With a sniffle she looked away. Everything just felt so overwhelming right now and she was fighting against tears. Tears she could not let fall, not in front of them. Estella Goldworthy had fought tooth and nail to be allowed on this quest and she would not let them think her weak. Especially not Fili or worse Thorin. "Though surely Gandalf wouldn't put us purposely in danger so this must be a safe place."

[violcntdelightsxx]

@swordoaths​

   Things seemed different as of late. As if the world was turning cold. Éowyn had no way of knowing what was occurring outside of Rohan, and most of the time she was never informed of what was happening even within the country, as she was a woman. Standing her ground to retrieve information was the norm for her, and it seemed as if lately the men in her lives were giving in, even if the news was grave. Théodred and her brother were always off, and they would always come back looking more grave than before. It was easy to assume things were changing for the worst.

   “What have you seen?” she demanded, becoming Éomer’s new shadow. She was a shieldmaiden of Rohan, and she believed she had every right to know if any battles, or worse, were coming. “Tell me.” She refused to let her brother even take a breath or relax after returning to the Golden Hall after yet another ride through the plains.

[troublemakerstm-a]

@swordoaths​ 

She’d been tending the flowers in the little garden by her front door when the unexpected visitor made his way up the hill to Bag End. And like most who lived in the Shire, Mary couldn’t ignore the nibble of curiosity; pretending to continue her task when really she was watching as the tall figure in grey begin to speak. Hobbits, after all, were quite prone to gossip. And while she wasn’t one to actively partake, she did find it enjoyable to be seeing something first hand instead of hearing about it in the market the next morning. 

Of course, she lived a bit too far down the lane to actually hear what Bilbo Baggins and the man in grey were saying -- save for when he introduced himself as Gandalf, and that rung a bell but she couldn’t quite remember where she’d heard the name before.. But then, just as quickly as the encounter had begun, it seemed to be coming to an end as the other hobbit made his way back into his home. Mary shrugged, intending to return to her garden now that the intrigue had finished, but then she watched with a small amount of alarm as the one called Gandalf strode up to the green door and began carving a symbol into to.

As he turned to leave, Mary scurried back into her own home, not even pausing to wipe the dirt from the hem of her dress, rushing to her library to search through her books. Not only for the name Gandalf, but for any clues on the symbol he’d carved. Perhaps it was curiosity, as she was often taken in by, or maybe it was more than that. A sort of sense of something bigger..

It was nearing sundown by the time she’d found her answers, and Mary knew she had to share her findings. Only taking a moment to tidy herself up, the little hobbit made her way up the hill to knock on Bilbo’s door, apology ready on her tongue. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Baggins, but there’s something I really must speak to you about.”

[bilified]

* 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗘𝗗. / @swordoaths.

Well, so much for his plan to get Steve flustered before they hit the road. It's one of Billy's favorite things; to have to leave before anything 'else' can be done, and let that heat simmer away while they're busy — only for that heat to bubble over and explode later. He sticks to the plan nonetheless, but when he emerges from his shower to find Steve looking like that, with Billy's own jacket just to serve as the cherry on top, it feels as though the tables have truly been turned. It's almost anger-inducing how Harrington can make simple outfits look so good, but it's definitely less annoying now Billy can do something about it beyond trying to push Steve's buttons like before.

Even the backwards cap works, for fuck's sake; making Steve resemble a frat boy that Billy wants to mess up in the best way. There's that haughty side of Steve that the Californian has a love-hate relationship with, but Billy responds to it the most fun way he knows how — and yields the reaction he wants. Mere seconds later he's tugged up against the other, a smirk on lips before they're claimed by Steve's own soft mouth. Embarrassing how even now it still has such a powerful effect on Billy, making his heart race and his body react with such enthusiasm.

He cares about being late about as much as he cares about being clothed in general, so he figures a couple of minutes before they have to be boring and responsible won't hurt. He backs Steve up against the nearest wall, dragging out and deepening the kiss, ensuring the brunet gets a good feel of the physical effect Steve has so easily had upon him. “...Could say the same for you,” he mutters in a low, gravelly tone when he gets the chance, amazed how even with the trademark hair concealed, Steve still looks so good it makes him ache. “Keep this on when we get back,” he instructs against Steve's ear, the intonation full of dark promise. “...Or parts of it.”