* 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 !

 Edgar's expression completely blanked. He didn't even blink as Stiles closed the distance between them. He just stood there, his weight balanced on his heels, looking like he was watching a kid throw a tantrum. He waited until Stiles was finished, his head tilting just a bit to the side, his face looking plain. Tired. From him. ‘ Du bes ja en richtige Jeck, oder? ‘ He let out a short, hollow laugh ‘ I honestly expected a bit more. A speech about hope, maybe some desperate running? But no. Just... this. ‘ He took one slow step forward, invading the space Stiles had just claimed. He didn't raise his voice, but his eyes were narrowed, though that didn't mean that he was being lenient. ‘ You think this is about some science experiment, ‘ Edgar murmured, his tone bored, like he was explaining something simple to a dull student. ‘ You think you’re a prize worth perfecting. It’s cute, really. But you’re just a Pänz playing in traffic, Stiles. That’s all. ‘ He reached up, his thumb idly rubbing against the skin of his neck. ‘ You want to fight? Ja, we can do that. I actually prefer it when they try to bite back. It makes the silence so much better when I finally get you to stop. ‘ He stepped even closer, his shadow falling over Stiles. ‘ But don't call me a buddy. And don't mistake my patience for a lack of a plan. Et kütt, wie et kütt—it comes as it comes. You want to see creative? Stick around. But knowing you? But you will, how do you say, chick out? ‘ 

 The oxygen vanishes, and instantly, his chest feels as if it has been crushed by a hydraulic press. Coldness replaces the air in his lungs, turning every attempt to inhale into a dry gasp from his throat. The edges of his vision gradually greyed. He draws in a quick breath, but nothing comes through, really. Echo's words were a blur, only bits and pieces were intelligible. It was enough for a no in his head, though. He'd actually rather fucking die. Edgar’s knees nearly buckle to the side, but he slams them back down, refusing to let his body betray him as the liquid burns inside his lungs. Refusing to fall to the side like a shot deer. He stares up at Echo with eyes that aren't begging for air, but are instead filled with a promise of what he’ll do the second he could breathe again. He lets out a rattling choke. It wasn't a plea— fuck, he wouldn't even beg if his life were on the line—but a mockery of a laugh, before he slowly tipped his head. It wasn't a nod of agreement, but Echo didn't need to know that.

" good. " whether he meant it or not mattered little to echo. if he failed to prove his loyalty? echo would simply put him back in an equally lethal position again, and that time? there would likely be no second chances. " now, for the test. i have two names for you. you're going to kill one of them. choose the correct one? that means we're on the same side. pick the wrong one, and... well. i'm sure you can figure out what'll happen then... "

he waited another, long moment, until it seemed like edgar was just on the brink of passing out, before finally turning the liquid back to oxygen again. " do not disappoint me. "

 Edgar drops to the floor the second the air returns, his lungs burning and screaming as they fill with oxygen. He does not cough, though. He forces himself to stay still, his hands digging into the hard ground as his vision slowly clears from the blur. He stays hunched over for a long moment, his chest heaving as he pulls in ragged breaths. He slowly tilts his head up, his eyes fixed on Echo. There is no relief in his face, only hard anger that is somehow sharper than it was before the lack of air. He wipes a hand across his mouth to clear away the trace of the fluid. ‘ Two names, boah, du Hurensohn.. ‘ Edgar rasps, his voice rough and broken. He lets out a short laugh that, with the lack of air, sounds like a screaming kettle. He pushes himself up from the floor, not waiting for his legs to be fully steady before he stands. ‘ You think you are clever, ‘ he says, staring Echo down. He takes a step closer, not backing down even with his lungs still stinging. ‘ Who is the choice between, anyway? A Nazi and my fucking mom? You really think I care about your little morality play? ‘ He stares at Echo for a moment, his eyes flat and unreadable. He lets out a sharp, cold exhale, then gives a single, small nod. ‘ Fine. Give me the names. ‘ 

→     𝐈 .    GENERAL

❛   hush .   raise  a  finger  in  a  gesture  to  silence  my  muse . ❛   sit .   gesture  for  my  muse  to  sit  down . ❛   door .   hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse . ❛   tap .   tap  my  muse  on  the  shoulder  to  garner  their  attention . ❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . ❛   cook .   present  my  muse  with  home - cooked  food . ❛   brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   read .   silently  read  a  book  alongside  my  muse . ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . ❛   dressed .   help  my  muse  put  on  an  article  of  clothing . ❛   note .   give  my  muse  a  note  saying :   [ content ] . ❛   amplify .   turn  up  the  music  in  the  car .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    ANGST

❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . ❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare . ❛   company .   silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them. ❛   hospital .   my  muse  is  told  that  yours  is  in  the  hospital . ❛   revelation .   show  my  muse  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ❛   indulge .   find  my  muse  drinking  to  cope . ❛   downfall .   find  my  muse  collapsed  on  the  ground . ❛   console .   comfort  my  muse  as  they  cry . ❛   nurse .   give  my  muse  company  in  the  hospital .

→     𝐈𝐈𝐈 .    AFFECTIONATE

❛   wink .   wink  at  my  muse .  ❛   wrap .   wrap  an  arm  around  my  muse’s  [ shoulders  /  waist ] . ❛   caress .   gently  caress  my  muse’s  face . ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   chest .   place  your  head  on  my  muse’s  chest .    ❛   comb .   comb  fingers  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   grasp .   run  to  my  muse  &  jump  into  their  arms . ❛   lean .   lean  on  my  muse’s  shoulder . ❛   tender .   kiss  my  muse  on  the  [ forehead  /  cheek  /  nose ] . ❛   abrupt .   kiss  my  muse  out  of  the  blue . ❛   chaste .   chastely  kiss  my  muse . ❛   good morning .   kiss  my  muse  the  morning  after . ❛   volumes .   gaze  at  my  muse  in  a  way  that  silently  says  ‘i love you’ .

→     𝐈𝐕  .    VIOLENT

❛   strike .   [ slap / punch ]  my muse in the face . ❛   gun .   wield  a  gun  at  my  muse . ❛   twist .   twist  my  muse’s  arm  behind  their  back . ❛   throttle .   aggressively  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   parch .   burn  my  muse  with  a  hot  object . ❛   take down .   forcefully  bring  my  muse  to  the  ground . ❛   gouge .   wield  a  sharp  object  at  my  muse . ❛  shunt .   shove  my  muse  backwards . ❛  stickup .   yell  at  my  muse  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air. ❛  shoot .   [ fatally  /  non-fatally ]   shoot  my  muse . ❛  stab .   stab  my  muse with a  [ knife / other object ].

→     𝐕 .    NSFW

Send a symbol for the action and/or send a # for reverse

🤲🏻 or ‘firm’ // sender grabs receivers chin firmly

🔪 🔙 or ‘knife behind’ // sender presses a knife on receivers’ throat from behind

🔪 🔜 or ‘knife front’ // sender presses a knife on receivers’ throat from front

🧱 or 'wall’ // sender backs receiver up against a wall

🔗 or 'kidnap’ // sender kidnaps receiver ( feel free to specify details )

👐 or 'choking’ // sender wraps their hands around receivers’ throat

💥or 'smack’ // sender smacks receiver in the face

🩸or 'bleed’ // sender makes receiver bleed ( feel free to specify where )

🤕 or 'knockout’ // sender knocks receiver’s head against the wall

🦴or 'bone’ // sender breaks one of receiver’s bone ( feel free to specify which bone )

🚬 or 'burn’ // sender burns receiver ( feel free to specify details )

🔫 or 'gun’ // sender points a gun at receiver’s head

⛓ or 'handcuffs’ // sender handcuffs receiver ( feel free to specify details )

🪓 or 'weapon’ // sender corners receiver with a weapon

🔧or 'gunpoint’ // sender holds receiver at gunpoint

🗑 or 'murder’ // sender attempts to murder receiver

✂️ or 'cut’ // sender cuts receiver ( feel free to specify details )

🧤 or 'yank’ // sender grabs receivers hair and yanks them over the floor

💊 or 'drug’ // sender sedates receiver ( feel free to specify ex. for a kidnapping, torture, etc. )

➰ or 'restraint’ // sender restrains receiver with ropes

💧or 'water’ // sender waterboards receiver

💪or 'arm’ // sender forces receiver’s arm behind their back

🔥or 'fire’ // sender puts cigarette out on receiver’s body

🪖 or 'tackle’ // sender tackles receiver on the ground

how quickly the courageous falls to his knees. echo crouches down to edgar's level, leaning closer when he hears some unintelligible words croaked out. " what was that? " he teases with a wide grin on his lips, knowing fully well that using up the little oxygen left in his body to repeat himself was likely not very tempting to edgar right now, as he choked on fluids. every second was one second closer to brain damage, followed by death. but they still had a a couple of agonizing minutes before that started to become a concern.

" i admire your spirit. it's actually why i came here. " echo stood back up again. " as i was about to explain, there's going to be some changes at vought. changes that will turn former allies into enemies... i would like to have you on my side when that happens. nod if you understand. "

 The oxygen vanishes, and instantly, his chest feels as if it has been crushed by a hydraulic press. Coldness replaces the air in his lungs, turning every attempt to inhale into a dry gasp from his throat. The edges of his vision gradually greyed. He draws in a quick breath, but nothing comes through, really. Echo's words were a blur, only bits and pieces were intelligible. It was enough for a no in his head, though. He'd actually rather fucking die. Edgar’s knees nearly buckle to the side, but he slams them back down, refusing to let his body betray him as the liquid burns inside his lungs. Refusing to fall to the side like a shot deer. He stares up at Echo with eyes that aren't begging for air, but are instead filled with a promise of what he’ll do the second he could breathe again. He lets out a rattling choke. It wasn't a plea— fuck, he wouldn't even beg if his life were on the line—but a mockery of a laugh, before he slowly tipped his head. It wasn't a nod of agreement, but Echo didn't need to know that.