#anyway they made a deal with him that if he avenged them by killing his old employers they'd leave him alone

[the-punforgiven]

Sometimes I think about old d&d characters I made and just go Man.

[nestastits]

You know Nesta really is HER.

She laughed at the children of the blessed.

She can see through Fae glamours and magic.

She told the human queens they were cowards.

She stole from the Cauldron.

She had the Cauldron, the most revered artifact of the fae that has the ability to create life and destroy everything by basically being the womb of the Mother, terrified of her to the point it went after anyone else but her.

She slapped her sister’s toxic fiancé in the face and told him he never deserved her anyway after he insulted her.

She scared off her baby sister’s toxic ex, told him off for his treatment of her sister, pointed her finger at him, and told him she’d rip his head off if he told anyone they were in spring.

She changed the entire trajectory of the books bc Sarah just couldn’t hate her

Sarah’s original plan was to have her with Lucien but the moment Nesta and Cassian saw each other it was a done deal and Sarah (basically the real life mother/cauldron) had to rewrite the books.

She did the math on how many ships the human lands would need in order to evacuate from the war.

She scared a death lord with her Made Sword

She can willed all three dread troves and has a special connection with them to the point of being able to portal them to her

She has a special connection to THE MOTHER. And a bargain with the Cauldron.

She’s been called a Death God, Kingslayer, Lady Death, Queen of Queens, Witch, Pillager of Death, Witch from Oorid, and Death Herself.

She is a Valkyrie and Oristian.

She encouraged some of the priestesses from the library (ones who have spent centuries in there without leaving) to join training by showing them there was nothing to fear.

She got a a usually disdainful blacksmith to smile with her inquisitiveness.

She marked the king with a death promise then beheaded him in the war when she got the chance. And held up his head in victory of her promise being acomplished.

She killed the first Kelpie seen in hundreds of years. Beheaded it and held it’s head in the same way.

She awoke a House and made it sentimental by befriending it with her magic.

She stabbed a man’s dick in the Blood Rite.

She led her team through the Blood Rite. Like any good General would do.

She held the line, giving up the chance of the win, so her found sisters could survive.

She spoke about becoming the leader of the first complete female fighting group in Prythian after five hundred years.

She had actual Death Gods speaking highly of her. Fearing her too.

The most powerful high lord in prythian feared her.

She unmade someone to avenge her mate. Her power stopped time when she unleashed it fully. She saved her sister, nephew, and brother-in-law all in the same morning after completing the blood rite. Gave up a fraction of her power for it, but made a bargain with the cauldron and spoke with the mother. Told her baby sister “I love you” for the first time, this was also the first time Nesta had ever said ily out loud to anyone. Decided that she wanted to have a mating ceremony. Hugged her brother-in-law after his mate and babe almost died even though they had some issues. Again all of this happened in the same morning.

She gave her Mask to an untrustworthy friend and by doing so saved both Prythian and Midgard. Perhaps other worlds and universes too.

She has infinite range👏👏👏

Please add anything that I left out! My girl has done so much I forget to list them all.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt. 10)

Mastterpost

A/N: Thank you all for the well wishes about my dog. Unfortunately he didn't make it and pass away Tuesday morning in the vet's office. I was able to get some writing done but I don't have the energy to edit. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

-----

Jason: hey, thanks for the gun and the tech, it's really cool.

Danny: new phone who dis 😝

Jason: I hope you haven't given too many people guns in the last couple days.

Danny: no I haven't, thanks for texting me Jason. Have you got a chance to try the gun?

Jason: not on anything moving, I've been doing some target practice to get a feel for it though. Looking forward to when I can test it on Vlad.

Danny: aww are you going to avenge my honor 🥺

Jason: if you want me too. I'll bring you his head if you want me too.

Danny: 🥰 you're so sweet. I wouldn't say no to seeing him suffer for what he's done but don't get yourself in any trouble okay? And if you do call me right away. I'll come rescue you 😘

Jason: hey I'm the one offering to protect you! 

Danny: we can protect each other. And fight each other, can you come spar again soon?

Jason: I wouldn't call that sparring, more like brawling.

Danny: eh potato potato, do you want to come fight me again?

Jason: if demon brat won't kill me for it, sure. Can I take you out for dinner afterwards? I have some questions

Danny: It's a date! Just tell me when

Jason: Day after tomorrow? I have some work to take care of first.

Danny: Sounds great! And it is a date right? You don't mind that I'm going to have kids?

Jason: the kids aren't a deal breaker I promise but let's not jump the gun okay? We're going to be family through B so we don't want this to blow up in our faces. Let's hang out, take it slow, see how it goes. You need to be careful about who you let into your life now anyway, you can't just let anyone around you and the babies.

Danny: don't tell me what to do 😠 but you're right. I'm bad about rushing into things. I'm still looking forward to it.

Danny: By the way Jazz uploaded the power point she made about Liminals and Ghosts to the bat’s server thing. You have access to that right? You should read that before we meet and I can fill in the gaps.

Jason: Sounds good, I’ll have a look at it and I’m looking forward to it too. I'll be there at 5 so we can spar before dinner. Don't forget to warn B and your guard dog.

Danny: Damian is a good kid. I'll let them know.

Danny stared at his new phone Tim had given him with apprehension. The chat with Jason had gone very well, and Danny was glad he reached out but there were other people he really needed to reach out to and he was… frankly scared. Sam and Tucker were his best friends and had always been there for him but they both had tempers. Would they be mad that he hadn’t told them he was pregnant? Would they be upset he had left Amity and wasn’t planning on coming back?

He needed to reach out though, the longer he waited the harder it would be to talk to them, and things wouldn’t stay calm as they were now. Vlad would be back to cause trouble again and even though the JLD had control of the portal but he was sure his rogues would find their way through eventually. Vlad had his own portal anyway, and Danny wouldn’t put it past him to open it just to annoy Danny. Maybe try and weaken him a little so Vlad could swoop in and pick him off.

Today was quiet, he needed to take this chance. He sighed and got up off the edge of his bed where he was sitting and ducked out of his room. He didn’t want to do this alone, so he wasn’t surprised when he found himself in the library where Jazz was studying. 

He sat down across from her and reached across, laying his hand, palm up on the table. Without looking up from her book she reached over and placed her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at her and took a deep breath before putting on his earbuds and sending a message in the group chat.

Danny: When you guys are ready can we call?

Jazz phone went off too and she checked it, smiled at Danny, and then silenced the chat and went back to her book. She didn’t need to be part of this call but at least she knew what he was doing. 

Sam: Yes, let me just grab Tuck. He’s playing Doomed.

Danny took a deep breath and put down his phone while he waited for them to call and tried not to panic.

When the phone buzzed he jumped and reached for it, joining the call quickly. 

“Hey guys,” He said, awkwardly, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.

“Hey yourself! What the heck happened Danny?! Basically the whole town joined in in chasing Vlad when we found out what he did but why did we have to find out on tv?! Why didn’t you tell us?!” Sam said, but at least she just seemed stressed, not actually angry.

“I’m sorry guys,” Danny said, wincing a little when he heard Tucker sniffling a little. “I hadn’t told anyone yet. I hadn’t even fully accepted it yet honestly.

“I still wasn’t ready to talk about it, bur Cass is really good at reading people's body language and I guess she clocked that I was carrying them by how I kept unconsciously touching my stomach. When she asked me about it it sorta broke through my denial and I broke down which started the ball rolling on… all this,” He said with a vague gesture.”

“All this is right!The justice league really brought the hammer down on Amity. They’re dismantling the GIW and really pissed at the government and basically all the adults in the town for letting this happen. And they arrested your parents!” Sam said sounding almost excited.

“Sam! That was really insensitive! They’re still his parents, what if he didn’t know!?” Tucker broke in furiously. 

“No it’s alright I knew, Jazz told me. She’s here with me,” He said squeezing her hand though she wasn’t paying attention to the call.

“Okaaay so where is Here?” Tucker asked warily. 

“Ya are you safe? We haven’t seen you since all this went down! Are you really with Bruce Wayne?” Sam asked sounding wary.

“Yes I am. He’s got a foster license and since his kids were the one that found out what was going on it just made sense that I’d stay here.”

“And he’s Not another Fruitloop?” Sam asked warily. “You need to be careful with these rich people you know? They’re basically all crazy!”

“Sam you’re rich,” Danny pointed out, amused. 

“Ya, and? My point stands!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughed. “But no, I did some snooping the first night I was here and it seems okay. And since he’s got close ties to the Justice League he was able to get the help we really needed, and he says he might be able to help me meet Martian Manhunter!”

“Don’t fanboy out too bad,” Tucker teased him.

“Oh ya? And what if I helped you meet Tim Drake? Would you not be just as bad,” Danny accused Tucker.

“Touche,” Tucker said. “Could you though?”

“I mean maybe? He’s my foster brother now and he seems cool. You two are my best friends, if I’m going to stay I’m sure you could come visit me and meet all of them.” 

“Are you really going to stay there though? I mean once the GIW and everything is cleared out you could stay with either of us. I know my parents aren’t your biggest fans but I know they’d let you stay,” Sam said sounding worried. 

“And I know my family doesn't have a ton of money but they adore you, we’d make it work,” Tucker added looking worried.

“No, guys I really appreciate the offer but… I don’t want to come back to Amity. The Justice League said they shut down the portal and I really need a fresh start I think. I think I’d rather stay here. Jazz too, she’s gonna study at Gotham U and intern at Arkham,” He said. She looked up at the mention of her name and gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, you guys are my best friends and I’ll miss you, but there are too many… memories in Amity you know?”

“Ya I get that,” Sam said, looking sad and distant.

“We can still call, and play Doomed together, and visit on breaks!” Tucker said, his chipper tone sounding a little forced. “We’re going to say friends!” He insisted and Danny smiled.

“Of course we will Tuck,” He promised. They might grow apart with the distance between them, but he hoped not, they really were his best friends.

“Ya, my parents will probably be thrilled about this development and want me to come over all the time. They love the Waynes,” Sam chuckled though her optimism also seemed a bit forced. Of course she was more of a pessimist, she probably thought they would drift apart, but knew Danny needed them right now. 

“Soo what’s been going on in Amity since I left?” Danny asked, letting them ramble about the drama, the rumours, and the bullshit that was the bullies and everyone in the school sudden;y pretending they cared about Danny soooo much.

After they finished telling him about it there were a few beats of silence and Danny was just about to suggest they hang up when Sam spoke up again. 

“So, what actually happened with Vlad? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay but…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not what- what you’d think. It’s superhero bullshit really. When I wouldn’t be his son he decided to try and clone me, you met Dani with an I right? She was one of the clones. But he didn’t know I was trans, and my DNA got all fucked up in the portal so none of the clones were stable. I have no idea how many he tried to make that died. But when I found out it was because he had lied to Dani and told her he needed me to stabilize her clone brothers. It was a batch of ten.

“But he lied, he didn’t actually care about stabilizing them, he was going to let them all die. I was only able to save the two that were most stable and only by taking their cores into myself. So I’m not normal pregnant, I’m ghost pregnant. 

What is my life huh?” He finished, chuckling awkwardly. 

“Oh fuck,” Sam said her shoulders slumping a little even as her expression went through a range of emotions. “That’s better in a way but still a whole different type of fucked up! I hope they catch him soon.”

“I hope so too but I don’t think they will,” Danny said with a shrug. “Not before he tries something else. I’m not lucky enough to be able to just move past this,” He said with a bitter little laugh.

“Well, we can still hope. And even if he does cause trouble you have more allies now! You’ve been able to handle everything else he’s thrown at you basically on your own, with the Justice League behind you I know there’s nothing you can’t handle. I mean, Vlad is kind of pathetic anyway,” Tucker encouraged making Danny smile. 

“Ya, you’re right, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks guys,” he said fondly. 

“Of course dude! We’re here for you!” Tucker said.

“It’s really good to hear from you too. Don’t be a stranger okay?” Sam said, a bit worried.

“Of course not, I’ll keep you posted I promise.” Danny assured before they said their goodbyes and he hung up. 

He put down his phone and leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. Next to him Jazz chuckled and there was a soft snap as she closed her book. 

“You did well little brother,” She told him, getting up from her seat she moved behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.

“How do you know? You weren’t listening.”

“No, but you reached out to your friends and had an honest conversation which isn’t easy. You did well,” She reiterated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Well thanks Jazz. I hope that they’re right that we won’t lose touch, and I’ll be able to handle whatever Vlad does,” He grumbled. 

“I’m sure we will,” Jazz promised. “And either way there’s no point in worrying about it now. Has Jason texted you yet?” She asked, giving Danny the excuse he needed to change the subject and launch into his more petty worries about the upcoming date as she sat back down to listen.

Next

[cyren-myadd]

Am I The Asshole for saving the life of an evil person?

This whole thing is so screwed up that I don’t even know where to start. Sorry if this is confusing.

So a couple of months ago, I (16M) was captured by the clone of my crazy dead biological father and taken to the RDA to get tortured for information. I’m an orphan, so I don’t have any living family (other than my friends, who I consider my family, but they’re 14M, 14F, and 8F so there wasn’t really anything they could do) and I knew there was no one who would come rescue me. By the time they started interrogating me, I was pretty sure I was as good as dead. I even told the enemy that they would have to kill me before I would talk. But obviously I didn’t die or I wouldn’t be here writing this. The clone saved me. We made a deal that I would act as his guide and translator and in return he would protect me from being tortured and he wouldn’t make me give up any info. I spent the next few months in the jungle teaching him and his squad how to survive in the forest and I can’t believe I’m saying this but it was kind of… nice? I guess? I dunno maybe I had stockholm syndrome or something.

But anyways, it didn’t last forever cause he eventually got a lead on his target, who just so happens to be my best friends’ dad, and we went after him. The clone did so many horrible things. He set villages on fire, hunted an innocent tulkun mother and her calf, threatened to kill people, and I think the only reason he didn’t kill anyone is because I begged him not to. When he finally tracked down my friends’ dad, he and his soldiers ended up using my friends as hostages, and the worst part is that my friends’ older brother (15M) was shot by his right hand man when he helped me and 14M escape. After that, the clone was still holding 14F hostage, and he almost got my friends’ dad to surrender, but before he could, my friends’ mom grabbed me and took me as a hostage too. She was going to kill me to avenge her son, and I thought the clone was just gonna let her do it. Taking out my friends’ dad was the only thing he seemed to care about, but to my surprise, he let 14F go after their mom cut me. Thankfully, we were all able to walk away from that without anyone else dying or getting hurt.

Now here’s the part where I’m probably the asshole. After the big battle, I found the clone drowning underwater. I knew I should've just left him to die, I really really tried to, but for some reason I just couldn’t. I saved him. I guess I felt like I owed him or something. When he realized I saved him, clone called me his son and asked me to come with him, but I just hissed at him and ran back to my friends and their parents. I haven’t told anyone what I did yet. I know I need to tell them at some point but I just don’t know how. The clone was pretty beat up so I know he won’t come back anytime soon, but one thing I know about that bastard is that he doesn’t quit. He’ll be back at some point. What should I do? Am I the asshole?

[separatist-apologist]

Fuck Me Up, Florida

Summary: Elain has some regrets- she'll bury them in Florida.

Read on AO3

Before:

Elain stood on the edge of her cottage, arms crossed over her chest. Maybe they’d taken things too far this time but there wasn’t room for this interloper, this stranger from an even stranger land. She and Lucien had lived in the swamplands for centuries—they would outlast the so-called witch seeking to take their territory.

But Lucien’s face…oh. He knelt beside her, head bowed as blood crusted over his golden skin. “You should go—”

“I’ll kill her,” Elain replied calmly, drawing forth the magic pulsating against her fingertips. She might lack Lucien’s ability to shift himself at will, to take on the terrifying form of the alligators that guarded the waters, nor could she rip out a throat with her teeth.

Elain could merely gaze into the future and reshape it to her will. 

The witch—Amarantha, they called her—was from another place with crueler, colder rules. Her magic was just as old, but twisted and dark and wholly out of place in the warm, sunlit paradise. Elain had seen how it ended, saw the witch crumble to dust, though when she tried to see how, the future shifted wildly into a kaleidoscope of color. 

The witch could be defeated. She would be defeated, if only for what she’d done to Lucien.

So Elain waited, dagger hidden beneath the cool material of her skirt, while Lucien continued to kneel beside her. He wanted to leave while they were still intact, but Elain refused. This was their home. She’d give it up over her dead body. 

“Is that so?” Amarantha purred, stepping from seemingly thin air. Everything about her set Elain’s on edge. She was bone pale, with eyes so black they seemed to bleed against the whites of her eyes. Her hair was the same shade of freshly spilt blood and around one long, spindly finger she wore a ring made from a real, moving eye.

Her dress slithered against the mud, silencing the once lively world. “You’ll leave over your dead body?”

Lucien’s head snapped up, tasting the iron tang of magic mere seconds before Elain did. Amarantha pointed at Elain, eyes burning with deathly amusement. 

“No—!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Amarantha purred. Elain was frozen, trapped in a swirling mass of air. “She’ll be back.”

“Don’t,” Lucien pleaded. “I’ll do anything—”

“I want nothing from you. Only her and her meddling sisters. Let’s play a game…just to make it fair. I won’t kill her, little demon. She’ll be reborn and given one mortal lifespan. Bring him an offering of flesh as a sign of our bargain…and in return, if you can convince her to tell you she loves you, I’ll return her memories.”

Elain wanted to scream at Lucien not to take the deal. It was a fools errand—to rob her of her memories, to make her think she was mortal and then present her with a male who looked so inhuman no human would ever stand to be in his presence.

Say no, she tried to plead with her eyes. Feyre and Nesta would avenge her. Lucien looked up at her, face still freshly scarred, and shook his head. He knew it was impossible—a fools bargain. And still.

“It’s a deal.”

Elain took a breath.

And then she was gone. 

Now: 

She didn’t know how it happened. 

One minute Elain Archeron had been listening to Graysen go on yet another tirade and the next…the next her hands her bloodied and Graysen was laying there lifeless, eyes glassy and tilted toward the vaulted ceiling. If she wanted to be honest with both herself and God, Elain would have admitted that she’d simply lost her temper.

He wasn’t yelling at her. Not this time, anyway. Instead, Graysen yelled about immigrants, he yelled about his politics, he yelled until his face was red and he realized that the only person left to yell at was her. And Elain was simply tired of apologizing.

She’d wanted him to just stop. To give her a moment to think, to settle her galloping heart. Even when she slept it was never peaceful, never deep. She tiptoed through her own life, making herself small and sweet so as not to draw his ire.

She’d always been that way.

What had been different, she wondered? 

But she knew the answer to that, too. Two years of marriage—and two years of infidelity. She’d discovered it the week before when his phone lit up at three am, just in time for Elain to get up and use the bathroom. She couldn’t say what was different about that night, too. Maybe it had been the Georgia heat. Or maybe her body knew something her brain did not. Elain had spent the night scrolling through hundreds of love sick messages, and a hundred more that painted her out to be a frigid, standoffish wife who didn’t care about her husband's needs.

Any woman dumb enough to believe the tired story of the neglected married man deserved whatever she got. Which, in Elain’s estimation, was a man who yelled about everything all the time. He didn’t yell at that other woman, though. 

He called her beautiful.

Elain could still remember when Graysen had talked to her like that, too.

So when he started yelling, Elain’s patience was already shredded thin. There was simply no more good will left. She’d picked up a heavy crystal face and smashed it over the back of his head. Graysen had pitched forward, forehead slamming against the sharp edge of their coffee table, rendering him dead before he ever connected with their hardwood. 

She’d intended to turn herself in. That was the reasonable thing to do. Nesta was a lawyer, Feyre was married to old money—she figured she could spend a decade or so behind bars, even if orange did wash her out. 

The world worked in mysterious ways. As Elain was picking up her phone, 911 already dialed, her phone dinged a warning.

Hurricane Elaine scheduled to make landfall on…

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Elain burst out laughing. Hurricane Elaine? Really? Surely it was some cosmic joke and yet…

“Hello?”

“Sorry,” Elain said, still laughing like a lunatic. “My daughter, she…sorry.”

The annoyed operator on the other end huffed out a sigh, assured Elain it happened all the time, and ended the call. 

Hurricane Elaine.

Elain was on the Florida-Georgia line, just far enough from the worst of the coming storm. It was a six hour drive to Destin, risky considering Elain had moved her husband's dead body to the back of his truck. If anyone noticed or stopped her, it was all over.

But if they didn’t…

Oh. But if they didn’t.

Graysen had a timeshare in Destin. It wasn’t much, though he was proud of it all the same. She’d never liked it, truth be told but in that moment, standing beneath a starry Georgia sky, Elain used their points and booked a week. It was the kind of thing Gray would do. He never wanted to evacuate, never took these kinds of threats seriously. Elain would dump his body in a swamp and then say the water simply swept Graysen away. 

Maybe it would take her, too.

Elain didn’t have a preference one way or the other, truth be told. She merely thought getting away with his murder was another outcome she could live with right alongside being swept away by the sea. She thought about all of it as she drove in the dead of night, amazed by the traffic trying to leave Florida as Elain tried to enter.

Every couple songs on the radio warned about the impending storm. She didn’t care. Eain was giddy by the time she pulled into the resort, careful to hide Graysen’s body beneath a tarp. It couldn’t stay in her car for long without risking being caught, not with the Florida humidity. She simply needed to check in to make her story believable, and hope no one bothered checking the security cameras.

“You’re brave, checking in,” the cheerful woman at the front desk told her. 

“Or stupid,” Elain replied with an easy smile. “My husband thought we’d have the pool all to ourselves.”

“Ocean, too,” the receptionist said before handing Elain the keys. “We aren’t required to evacuate but if things get any worse, you should.”

“I will,” she swore like a liar. All she needed was that key and a plausible alibi, after all. She’d been here, not committing any murders. Was it a crime to be stupid? No, especially not in Florida.

They could suspect her all they like, Elain didn’t care. She was free of Graysen without the mess of a divorce.

Would she feel grief once the dust had settled? When Graysen was nothing more than a few picked over bones at the bottom of a swamp would it all hit her? Would relief turn to misery? Would she lie awake in bed missing the warmth of his body?

Climbing back into her car, already warmed from the Florida heat, Elain decided she couldn’t let herself care. Not right then, anyway. Besides, if Elain was honest with herself, she was having a disturbing amount of fun.

Rolling down her window, Elain let the wind ruffle her hair like an affectionate parent as she grinned, cheeks pink from the humidity. If a hurricane was on its way, the world gave no sign of it. Though, Elain had turned from Destin to make her way toward a swamp that would become Graysen’s final resting place. 

Good riddance, she thought. This was where she’d bury all her regrets, her mistakes, her ghosts. Maybe herself, too, though it was too early to make that determination. Maybe once Graysen had been dumped and Elain was alone in the resort, hurricane winds pounding against the roof. 

Maybe. 

Truth be told, Elain didn’t want to mourn or miss him. Her whole marriage felt like she’d been grieving a man who’d died the day she met him at the altar. He’d once been kind and sweet, had looked at her like she was the sun and he was merely a frigid planet begging for warmth. He’d been the one who’d changed, who’d embraced cold so brutal no light could penetrate his rotted heart. 

Killing him had been an extreme course correction and yet…and yet Elain couldn’t find the empathy people had always praised her for. Couldn’t find anything but the knob of the radio and then her voice singing along, loud enough to be heard over the rush of the road. Nevermind that there was a dead body in the back of her stolen truck—the songs were all bops as palm trees became cypress and  mangrove. 

The air was thicker somehow, as if charged with magic. It was tempting to think that was just Florida itself and not her own delirious joy seeping out of her. She was nearly finished with the whole debacle. Her heart pounded as she pulled off the main road, tires betraying her in the mud as she crept deeper into territories unknown. 

This was the hard part. As Elain cut the ignition, she considered for a moment the absurdity of her plan. If it worked, it would be sheer luck and nothing else. There was blood in her apartment, tire treads in the mud, and a hurricane on the horizon. She ought to go back to her original plan and call her older sister for help. Nesta would know what to do, would be able to get her out of serious trouble.

Elain knew if she dumped this body, there would be nothing Nesta could do to soften that blow. There would be no painting Elain as a victim but the aggressor, the abuser—everything Graysen had been before she took his life and made him part of the Florida ecosystem. 

Elain took a breath before deciding fuck it. She’d come this far, hadn’t she? Might as well see it all the way through. Elain hopped from the cab, flats sucked into the mud so deeply she thought she might need to abandon them altogether. Managing to get her feet out of the mud, Elain pulled the tarp she’d half wrapped Graysen in from the back of the truck until his body slid to the ground.

The Florida heat was getting to her. Or, maybe it wasn’t the heat that was making her feel a little manic but the humidity—whatever it was, Elain let out a soft laugh before grabbing Graysen by his limp arms. She tried hard not to look too closely at his gray skin, eyes trained on the path ahead. Just get him the water, she told herself.

Television hadn’t prepared Elain for how heavy a dead body was. Graysen didn’t look like such a solid man but right then, Elain wanted to scream as she inched him forward, sweat dripping from her nose.

She was leaving DNA everywhere—if she didn’t get caught it was simply law enforcement refusing to do their job entirely. As she dragged him toward the murky water, Elain considered that she was merely digging her own grave, too. She ought to climb in after Graysen and let the alligators have her, too.

In the end, Elain kicked Graysen into the water with a heaving breath of air. He plopped into the green tinted water with a heavy splash that silenced the insects, if only for a moment. Shoulders aching, she braced herself against the sticky bark of a leaning tree, eyes closed.

It was done. She’d done it. There was no going back now. She could have turned back anytime before Graysen sank to the bottom of the swamp but now…now there was no way in hell Elain was getting in that water to try and drag him out.

She needed to leave. Spend the week in the timeshare at the pool until the hurricane hit and then…she didn’t know. She had no plan, no idea how to go about things and she was terrified to google any of it. 

Elain opened her eyes, surprised to find she wasn’t alone. A man was coming toward her as he pulled thick, auburn hair up off his face in a messy bun.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes gleaming. Three long, vicious scars cut down one strange, gold eye that didn’t match the brown of the other. 

Elain nodded her head, heart pounding in her throat. What had he seen? Mouth dry, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, Elain could do nothing but wait as he came toward her. He wore light clothing that looked far more comfortable than her own, the white cotton of his shirt sticking against the muscular contours of his chest. 

“What are you doing so far out here?” he pressed, eyes sliding from her to the water just beneath her. There was no evidence of what she’d done if he ignored the path she’d carved through mud and vegetation dragging Graysen’s body. And if he walked just half a mile toward the gravel road, she’d find Graysen’s truck parked, the doors flung open and likely filled with mosquitoes. 

“I like nature,” she told him. It wasn’t even a lie—Elain worked for the botanical garden back home and maintained her own in the backyard she’d once shared with Graysen. “I’ve always wanted to see a swamp.”

“Could have taken a tour,” he said, eyes twinkling. “The alligators are real aggressive out here.”

“They can’t be that bad if you’re out here,” she shot back, unsure why she was being so combative with this man. 

Something green glimmered beneath the collar of his shirt, inked against his skin. What kind of tattoo was it, she wondered? 

“I practically live here,” he replied as he came closer, hands jammed in his pockets. 

“You work in a swamp?”

He only shrugged. “It’s a living, right?”

“Well, if you’re not afraid of gators, neither am I.”

He came closer still. “There’s worse things in gators out in the swamps.”

Elain froze. There she was, in the middle of nowhere talking to a stranger who had appeared seemingly out of thin air. Her hair curled in the humidity, her face slick with sweat and yet he seemed serene. Unbothered by the heat, the heavy air, or their surroundings. Elain took a step backward.

“Right. Well I uh…should be going.” He didn’t try and stop her, seemingly amused as she made her way back up the path. “Watch yourself, Elain. There’s a hurricane coming, you know.”

She only nodded, turning her back on him to rush back to the car. She was too stressed to deal with the stranger in the swamp. Elain didn’t let herself think about him until she was back in the room at the resort standing beneath cool shower water.

Watch yourself, Elain.

Had she told him her name? Elain genuinely couldn’t remember. The stress of everything was getting to her—maybe she had. In that southern kind of way, a greeting that included letting him know who she was so he knew she was no threat at all.

Why not tell him what she’d done, too? Hi, I’m Elain Archeron and I murdered my husband. 

Make it easier on the police when they went looking for witnesses. She could have given that man the murder weapon had it not been shattered in hundreds of pieces on her living room floor. Still, Elain replayed that parting sentence over and over in her head. Elain, Elain, Elain. Why had she told him her name? Why hadn’t she asked for his? 

Should she have done something more? Assured him she was just a normal woman lost in the heart of a swamp she had no business being in? Had he watched her drag that body and merely waited to see what would happen? She was more concerned with getting caught than what she’d actually done, which also worried her.

What kind of person murdered their husband? 

She did, apparently. Elain didn’t think she was a bad person—just sad. Mad, too, that things hadn’t worked the way she’d wanted to. Angrier still that she’d loved him the way she had and in the end, it hadn’t even been good enough. She still remembered insisting to Nesta that Gray was her soulmate and their love was the thing of legends. It was love so pure, so perfect, so timeless that one day people would write books about it.

She supposed she hadn’t been wrong about that last one. Some true crime junkie would pick up this story and write about her. Would they call her a Black Widow? No, she decided as she laid there in the dark listening to the wind. She had no intention of remarrying, after all, and certainly wouldn’t kill another man. But they’d come up with some other offensive nickname for her, labeling her without really knowing her heart. 

Elain fell asleep easier than she’d expected to, though her dreams were confusing and vivid. She was back in that swamp, wading deeper and deeper into the water as something made its way toward her, gold eyes reflecting the moonlight onto the water. Blood—no, hair—fanned out behind the creature and when he raised his head to smile, teeth sharpened to a point.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, his voice cutting through the still night. Elain couldn’t move, frozen in place as he came further and further out of the water. The green on his neck, she realized, wasn’t a tattoo but scales and behind him, a tail propelled him forward just as surely as his legs did.

She couldn’t scream. Trapped in mud, Elain could only stand as he came closer and closer, water dripping from his bare chest. The opaque water obscured his bottom half which was for the best—she was certain she didn’t want to see it. 

He reached out to touch her, golden skin somehow glowing in the moonlight, and—

Elain woke to the sound of thunder, sheets sticking to her sweat soaked skin. The doors to the balcony attached to her bedroom were flung open and though it wasn’t raining yet, puddles of water pooled on the tile floor. Elain sighed loudly, palm pressed right above her breast in an attempt to silence her screaming heart.

It was just a dream. A nightmare, truly, borne of her guilty mind and her fear she was going to be caught. Elain forced herself to get up, grab a towel from the bathroom, and wipe up the water. This time, she made sure she locked the balcony doors so the wind wouldn’t blow them open before she crawled back into bed.

The nightmares were the same, though. 

And when she woke, the doors were opened again.

Unwilling to take it lying down, Elain went down to the front desk to ask if she could be moved. Her doors, she explained ruefully—if there was a hurricane, she didn’t want to deal with water flying in. The person at the front desk was far less sympathetic to Elain’s cause and though they didn’t say so, it was clear they thought she and everyone else still at the resort was an idiot.

She tried not to let it bother her. 

She needed to just stick to her plan. It was a terrible plan, admittedly, but it was too late to back out, now. Elain spent the day sitting outside by the pool holding a book in her hand, too nervous to read even a page. She kept waiting for the police to descend on her, led by the man haunting her nightmares.

There she is, he’d say with open accusation. There’s the woman who murdered her husband and thought she could get away with it. 

They didn’t come. Frantically checking the news every couple of minutes, Elain found more warnings of the tropical storm about to descend on them, found other stories of murder, but nothing about her. No one had called to check in on Gray—not even the woman he was having an affair with. Elain had his phone sitting on her bedside table, monitoring it for anyone who might be worried about him.

No one was. 

It was almost too easy. 

If it hadn’t been for the nightmares, Elain might have just turned around and gone home. Maybe that would have silenced her nightmares. Elain dreamt of the man again, noting the way the green scales seemed more repetilian than those of a tattoo. This time, as Elain waded into the swampy water, she found her voice again.

“Who are you?” she asked, white nightgown floating around her.

He offered her a truly terrifying smile, those teeth tinged red in the moonlight. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he told her again, his voice a haunting melody. 

“Why?”

He was close enough she could smell the earthy scent of him. It was familiar, somehow, though she was certain she’d remember if she’d seen him before.

He merely cocked his head, standing to his full height. Water sluiced off his body and though she knew this was merely a dream from her stressed out and panicked brain, Elain’s eyes dipped between his legs all the same. Now she knew it was a dream because men should only have one appendage…and this man had two. What was wrong with her? 

He didn’t seem concerned with her gaze—not amused nor offended. Instead, he stepped forward, reaching for a long curl between two long, strong fingers.

“Mate,” he whispered, reaching for her before she could stumble back. It was just a dream, she told herself…and yet it felt real. Elain swore she could feel the sharpened claws against her back just as surely as she could feel the warm water enveloping her.

“What about alligators?” she breathed, earning a soft chuckle from the creature holding her.

“You don’t need to worry about anything harming you,” he said, dipping his head to run his nose along the shell of her ear. 

“Because this is a dream,” she said, eyes closed.

Another laugh drew shivers up her spine. “Whatever you say.”

But it was a dream, even if it felt real. She knew she’d wake up and the door would be open because subconsciously she wanted to get caught. “What’s your name?”

“Lucien,” he replied, running a finger over her cheek. How long had it been since someone had touched her like this? Like she was special, cherished—loved? 

“Why are you waiting for me?” she questioned, deciding if it really was a dream, maybe it didn’t have to be a nightmare. Maybe she could enjoy herself in the privacy of her strange fantasies. Maybe the scales, which she found softer than she expected them to be, were representative of something. 

“You’re my mate,” he murmured. Hadn’t she just read a book about that? The men hadn’t been so strange looking—merely more handsome versions of humans, their ears a little pointed, their teeth a little sharper. Elain relaxed in his arms as she realized she was merely trapped in a strange dream about the men she read in books.

“Of course,” she said, amusement lacing her tone. He cocked his head, wet hair plastered to his bare shoulder.

“You don’t believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Elain declared blithely, kicking her feet gently in the water between them. “I think I left a body in here.”

“He’s gone now,” Lucien informed her. Oh, how Elain wished that was true. “Who was he to you?”

“My husband,” she said mirthfully as she inclined her head toward the moon overhead. “He yelled a lot.”

Lucien’s grip around her body tightened. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not in the ways that matter.”

“They matter to me,” he said, and of course they did. Elain loved herself and this man was merely an extension of her own mind. Still, pretend or not, it felt good to have someone care about her. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she told him, turning to look him back in the eyes. It was here she found those scars again and wondered what had caused them. Would her mind fill in the gaps for her? “Who did this to you?”

He chuckled, catching her wrist to press a kiss to her open palm as she tried to run her fingers over the grooves. “Another male was interested in my territory. He tried to take my eye, I took his throat.”

“How very vicious of you,” she teased. “Are you half alligator, then?”

“Simply put, I suppose,” he said, the amusement in his gaze sharpening to something she didn’t recognize. It was almost desperation that stared back, a plea to know something she had only forgotten. Elain felt the strangest rush of deja vu, though it faded into the night before she could grasp it, a balloon whose string was just out of reach. 

“What are you? Can I ask that?”

“You can ask me anything you like,” he told her, his voice dropping an octave. Elain felt a rush of want as he waded further into the water, clearly unconcerned with the lurking danger. 

“I am…” he trailed off, clearly trying to find the words before he turned to look at her again. Elain was tracing the scales adorning his shoulders and neck like tattoos, trying to remember the last time she’d touched anything reptilian. “Old, I suppose.”

“How old?”

“Old,” he emphasized. 

“You don’t look old,” she said, half laughing at how predictable her daydreams were. 

“I age slowly,” he informed her solemnly. “You did once, too.” “Oh? Before what?”

Skimming his hand over the top of the opaque water, he said, “You’re my curse, now.”

“How do you break the curse?”

Those strange, reflective eyes found the same glassy water they were floating in. He didn’t say, but Elain knew because this was her dream, her fantasy, her imagination. “It’s love, isn’t it?”

He looked so hopeful as he met her gaze. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. 

It was a dream. “You seem like you’d be extremely easy to love.”

Pressing his forehead against her own, Lucien exhaled softly. “Let me show you.”

Lucien brought them to the opposite end of the swamp, unconcerned with his nakedness or the fact that she was openly staring at him. Well, not at him so much as what was slowly rising between his legs—two appendages, one longer than the other by a good inch. Elain didn’t need him to explain how they worked, though she was curious as to the point. Surely, from an evolutionary standpoint, one was enough? 

Taking his hand, Elain let him lift her from the water, well aware he was just as fascinated by her form which was no longer hidden given the way her nightdress clung to her body. 

“What are you going to show me?”

Lucien didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her, sharp teeth grazing her bottom lip. Elain let him, reflecting that even though this man was a monstrous figment of her imagination, it had been a while since someone kissed her like they meant it. Like they wanted her. Maybe, she thought, this was some kind of weird metaphor. The only man who could ever love her was a monster, after all—just like Graysen.

Or maybe she was the monster.

After all, she was the murderer. Lucien was just a man she’d seen in the swamp that would one day testify at her trial while she remembered how they’d had sex in a dream. Elain kissed him back, surprised to find he tasted warm and sweet—like a warm, summer day. This was the type of dream she liked—the sort where she could feel pleasure without the endless guilt that seemed to fill her. 

She could taste blood in her mouth, slipping back into her throat as his tongue chased after it, kissing her with a frenzied hunger that Elain wished was real. The trick was not waking up before she came—Elain had never quite mastered that 

She knew it was a dream for sure when he lifted her nightdress, swatting her hand when she tried to touch his bare skin. 

“Just you,” he breathed, scales glinting in the moonlight. No man would ever, she decided as Lucien ran his own hands down her now naked form. It was almost like touching herself, forcing an awareness of her body that Elain rarely had. She didn’t pay attention to how it felt when someone's fingers teased her breasts or the way cool skin felt against her own. Or, she hadn’t in so long she’d forgotten what true pleasure could be like and he hadn’t really done anything. 

“What do you like?” he asked through a heavy breath of humid air. 

“I…” Elain was suddenly too embarrassed to tell him. Everything felt real—Lucien sank to muscular knees, his thick tail curling around the pair of them.

“Do you like this?” he asked in a husky voice as his forked tongue traced shapes against her upper thigh. To keep balance, Elain slid her fingers into his thick, silken hair. 

“Yes,” she admitted while he lifted her leg up off the ground, hooking it over his broad shoulder. Little ridges adorned his spine, flexible when her toe brushed up against one. Elain was fascinated with his form—more man than creature, but not human at all. She might have demanded an answer had that tongue of his not licked up the length of her.

Elain nearly toppled over, but Lucien wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her closer while cupping her ass in one of his large, strong hands. He groaned with pleasure, the sound drowning out the screaming, watchful cicadas in the background.

“And this?” he demanded, licking again.

“Yes,” she breathed, head thrown back so she could look up at the stars. If she’s been more articulate, she would have told him that she liked it too much, and Gray had never wanted to do it. It took too long, he’d complained which of course only made it take longer. Elain was so self conscious every time he did go down that she never finished and often just counted to two hundred, faked it, and let him move on. 

“I need to taste you,” Lucien informed her, pulling her so close against him she wasn’t convinced he could breathe. She would have told him he was already tasting her if she’d been braver and less afraid that at any moment she was going to wake up and realize the whole thing was just a really weird, yet really good dream. 

Because it was her dream, Elain didn’t have to worry she was taking too long. In fact, Elain wanted to drag her pleasure out. His tongue was just rough enough to provide the smallest amount of friction while his mouth was otherwise soft and warm. Perfect, she decided with a sigh. 

She wanted to spread herself out. Maybe Lucien knew it, or maybe the ground merely hurt his knees. All she knew for certain was in the span it took to draw breath, Lucien was on his back and she was straddling his face, staring down the length of his rigid, muscular body. She wanted to touch him and so she did, spreading her legs as wide as she could get away with so she could lean against him.

Lucien moaned when she pressed a kiss against his stomach. Distracted, she half forgot what he was doing with his mouth. It was just…well, two cocks were endlessly fascinating to her. Why? What was the point? Elain reached between his legs and took the thicker, larger one in her hand. It was ridged, she realized with wild desperation. What would it feel like? Would her mind even know? Was she imagining this because she’d been shopping for vibrators a month earlier and stumbled upon some truly strange looking dildos? 

“Fuck,” Lucien panted, inclining his head away from her swollen pussy to look at her. “You don’t—it’s fine, just…just come here—”

Lucien put his mouth back on her with a vengeance, determined to distract her so thoroughly she couldn’t pleasure him, too. It was a game now, trying to get him off even as waves of pleasure began to build in her chest, threatening to drown her at any moment. Had anything felt better? 

Lucien writhed beneath her, prompting Elain to reach around for the second one and grip it, too. He gasped, breath warm against her throbbing cunt, before returning to licking circles around her clit. 

They came within seconds of each other—though Elain didn’t get to see any of it. Body throbbing, the sound of thunder crashing pulled her from her dream, body still roiling from her orgasm.

“Christ alive,” Elain swore softly, pushing the blankets from her body to close the balcony doors again. She knew she’d locked them before bed, had pulled the handles to be sure they were firmly locked.

Water was pooled on the floor again, her bare feet splashing in puddles as she made her way back to the ensuite bathroom. All Elain could think about was the man—the stranger she couldn’t stop dreaming about and his strange, inhuman features.

She’d nearly forgotten why she was dreaming about him. It was only after Elain had cleaned everything up did she recall that oh, right. She’d killed her husband and her brain was apparently trying to decode this information in the form of giving a strange swamp man two penises. 

Elain was going insane. Seeing things that weren’t there, manifesting her own downfall. Was this what if felt like to be haunted? Only, there were no ghosts—only her own guilt tormenting her while she slept. 

Elain shoved a chair against the balcony doors before she went back to bed, forced to lay on the opposite end because the mattress felt wet, too. Sweat, surely.. And the swamp man didn’t return, though when she woke the chair was back in its original place beside the window and the doors were open again. Outside, the world had gone red, the sky tinged with blood. Elain felt as though she’d manifested it herself, though that was pure arrogance to think she had any affect on the weather. 

Her phone was screaming at her to get out, pinging emergency instructions from the resort on where to go when the hurricane made landfall. Elain planted herself in her bedroom determined to see this lie through. It was the kind of thing Gray would do, besides—he never too much stock in the hysterics, as he called it. 

And she was so pathetic that she would have sat beside him and waited to die. Elain told herself she’d be fine, even as fear skittered up her spine. Sirens blared just outside and when she stepped toward the window, Elain could see the storm on the horizon. She took a breath, intending to go sit back in bed and try and read her book. Elain would have, too, had she not seen him coming out the sea itself, eyes trained on her bedroom window. He was merely a dot, a doll walking so far below her Elain was positive he couldn’t see her. 

And yet she knew he could. Wind whipped around him, blowing his hair this way and that though he didn’t seem bothered by it. Elain watched, mouth half open, as a palm tree was shoved violently to the ground as though a giant hand had pushed it there. But the man didn’t budge, kept walking as though it were a perfectly normal day.

Oh god.

Elain rushed to the door, locking it before making her way out of her bedroom. Where was she going to go? She turned, standing in the living area, eyes trained on the beach. The man was gone and for a moment, Elain consoled herself that she was just crazy. He didn’t exist, her mind had merely snapped and when this was all over, she’d check herself into an asylum. 

Elain looked away for a moment, turning toward the little kitchenette she hadn’t used. “You’re okay—” The glass shattered, sending Elain flying to the floor, arms thrown over her head to avoid getting hit by debris. Unable to hear her own thoughts over the wind, Elain tried to recall what she should do in the middle of a hurricane.

Cool fingers curled around her upper arm, hoisting her up into the air. Elain turned her head, horrified to find herself cradled against the half naked skin of the strangely scaled man. “You,” she accused, certain all this was his doing.

His smile was grim, eyes wide and round. He looked scared. “Me,” he murmured, his deep voice cutting through the noise. “It’s time to go home.”

“I’m not going—” the wind screamed as water pelted the pair of them, stinging her skin with each new assault. He didn’t seem concerned at all, ignoring the glass crunching underneath them as he walked her toward the bedroom. 

“We’re going to die—”

“You’re going to remember,” Lucien interrupted, tail swishing angrily behind him. He looked catlike in the stormy dark, eyes glowing like sunlight cutting through shadow. 

“You’re not real,” she breathed as he ripped her night dress in half. He certainly felt real.

“You know me,” he breathed, staring down at her. “You love me.”

“You’re a monster,” she replied.

Lucien grinned, betraying two rows of sharp teeth. “I’ll show you a monster.”

She tried to push him away but Lucien knew better. Knew he could have her if he wanted her—had already touched her, tasted her. Her protests were weak, silenced the moment his mouth was back on hers. He was real—they were real. She almost forgot about the screaming wind rattling the windows and pushing glass around the living area. 

“You brought me an offering,” Lucien panted, hitching her leg up around his now bare waist. When had he taken off his pants? “Tell me you love me.”

“What offering—”

“The body. Your husband,” he spat, eyes darkening at the memory. “Tell me you love me.”

“I hate you,” she replied as he wrapped both hands around her bare thighs and wrenched them open.

“Wrong answer,” he replied. Elain kicked at his chest as Lucien lined himself up not just with her pussy, but her ass, too. 

Their eyes met. “Does this feel real, now?” he whispered, inching himself forward just enough to punch the lungs from her breath. “You know me.”

“I don’t,” she replied as something metallic lodged itself in her nose. The world was ending in an explosion of air and water and yet a strange bubble seemed to exist around them. Words, just on the tip of her tongue, if only she could remember them, begged to be released. To finish a spell long since cast.

Lucien waited for a heartbeat, his hope etched over his features. When Elain said nothing, Lucien pressed himself closer to her, cocks intruding on her body like an old, familiar friend. Elain swore she’d never felt anything like it and yet her body stretched on instinct to accommodate him. Even when Elain wriggled, trying to create some resistance, her body simply allowed him to slide easily inside.

“Why two?” she panted, gritting her teeth to adjust to the feeling of being stretched to capacity. 

“I can’t impregnate my mate if she doesn’t feel pleasure,” he replied breathlessly. His hair fell like a sunlit curtain between them, his eyes bright and earnest.

“Lucien,” she breathed, nails cutting against his biceps. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you—but who are you?

“Yes,” he managed, pulling himself out of the sticky wet that was her body. Spitting in his hand, Lucien lubricated his shaft now halfway buried in her ass before he thrust himself back in and

Elain was forced to admit that it all felt good. Her back arched of its own accord, eyes rolling upward in her skull. The ridges lining his cock made each new thrust sharper, the pleasure brighter. 

“Our bond goes beyond marriage,” Lucien told her as colors filled her vision. “What we have is stronger than love.” His fingers stroked between her legs, rubbing tight circles around her clit until Elain was panting and writhing. She was going to come right alongside the hurricane bearing her name and then what? The windows would give way and the world would one day know of the woman who died because she decided fucking was more important than evacuating.

She didn’t care. Elain pulled him closer, running her hand over the flexible spines running the length of his back until she found the tail protruding just above the swell of his ass. 

“Please,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist. Lucien whined in response, sweat dripping down his forehead as he ran his nose along her own.

“I can’t stop,” he told her, pressing a kiss along the corner of her mouth. “If you don’t say it, we start all over.”

“I love you,” she said, half meaning it. What did hurt, she decided? He was so obviously insane and maybe so was she, because she was still fucking him, wasn’t she? Maybe this was what she deserved. 

Lucien’s pace quickened and with each new thrust a new memory came flooding through her awareness. A cottage on the edge of a swap, a cauldron filled with bubbling liquid. A male half hidden in the water, gold tinged eyes looking for predators as his red hair fanned out behind him.

Amarantha.

Her horrible bargain.

Elains vision.

“Lucien,” she said, fisting his hair so he had to look back at him. He recognized her words, the look on her face.

“You’re back,” he whispered, still thrusting into her though his rhythm slipped into wild, animalistic thrusting. 

“You feel exactly as I remember,” she told him, dragging her nails down his back. “What took you so long?”

“Let a man wallow for a century or two,” Lucien replied, kissing her again. “Come for me. Now.”

She did, though not because he told her to— because she was already desperate and close and Lucien was pushing every button she had. Elain tightened around him as Lucien babbled unintelligibly about how wet and tight she was. Some things, she supposed, would never change. The world would.

But not them. Never them.

Lucien came loudly, roaring over the wind she’d forgotten about. Was there a hurricane? Had she been afraid of it? That seemed almost laughable to her now. Turning her head as Lucien buried his own in the crook of her neck, Elain stared out the window coated in violet raindrops. 

For a moment, the storm was the only sound between them. 

“You borrowed my magic,” Elain accused once his breathing steadied. She could feel his come leaking down her leg, slipping between the spaces his cocks occupied.

“You didn’t know how to use it,” Lucien replied with a sheepish grin. 

Elain poked him in the ribs. “Is she dead?”

“Not yet,” he told her, gaze darkening. “Feyre drove her out a century before.”

“Let's finish it, then.”

“In time,” Lucien promised, withdrawing himself so he could offer her his hand. “Home, first.”

Elain grinned. “Home, then.”

[cryptocism]

i was gonna ask how inertia II (helped superboy prime fight the teen titans) fit in the too many thads AU cause i originally thought he was an thad/bart clone but? he's just some dude? i feel like your (fantastic) fic gave him as much mind as the comics

truly that version of Inertia is such a mystery to me GOD i have so many questions. like, he isn't paid much mind within the actual narrative bc there's like 8 different fights happening all at once and Superboy Prime is the main antagonist but, straight up Who Is He.

like in the span of #98-100 there's a couple things that do get confirmed about him

for instance:

"After this is over, I gotta talk to them about this costume they gave me, I mean - green? It's the color of a turtle. Talk about Irony." - "This Inertia hasn't got a clue. He doesn't know that the last speedster to wear that costume killed me. I got better. But the scars run deep."

New Inertia says "they" gave him the Inertia costume. Who is "they"? Superboy Prime? CRAYDL? Someone else?

Bart concludes that New Inertia doesn't know how the previous one killed him. I assume just based on New Inertia's irreverence? But unclear.

"Inertia killed Bart, but that's not the same one. He's two inches taller. No doubt the costume choice is deliberate. Bart only has a few buttons, so it's easy to push them."

Tim notes in his narration that this Inertia is two inches taller than the last one. Why? What purpose does that serve?

Superboy Prime has proven himself capable of making clones, given the gaggle of Kon clones that show up in this fight, but if he made New Inertia to be another clone of Bart or of the previous Inertia, why the physical difference?

Even Bart can't figure out if this guy is a clone or not:

"What's the deal with all these clones? Is that Inertia one too? Or just another speedster?"

Which is kinda wild because although there is a wide selection of speedsters in present, Bart knows pretty much all of them. And even if this is a Random Guy With Superspeed, what would compel him to be here, fighting Bart?

And before any questions can be asked or answers can be given, Bart gets a lil lost in the trauma sauce (can't really blame him) and kicks the shit out of New Inertia

"I died. That happened. Inertia was the catalyst for it. He delivered the fatal blow. But I'm back, and this isn't the same Inertia, right? This is real. I've played out this scenario in my head over and over again. And every time, it felt better and better. Inflicting pain. Destroying him. Avenging myself." "So much anger - radiating like the sun. A dark, black sun. Bart is seething with rage." "It's what he deserves."

the "it's what he deserves" line always gets me. because they've already established this is a New Inertia, he literally hasn't done anything except fuck around causing trouble along with the rest of Superboy Prime's posse. anyway Bart obviously has lots of baggage surrounding Inertia, with the actions of one bleeding onto the other.

(fun fact Raven's description of Bart's emotions being a dark black sun informs a lot of the imagery in chapter 21 of Frequency)

"I... I could've killed him." "But you didn't. You controlled your emotions." "Yeah. See, Raven - we all got our demons inside."

AND THAT IS THE LAST WE SEE OF THIS GUY. Where does he go after this? Is he still unconscious after the fight or does he get away while they're going after Superboy Prime? Who does he go back to? Who The Hell Is He? Fuck you they gotta punch Superboy Prime so hard he ends up in purgatory.

Then of course the run is over, the universe is rebooted, and we get New 52. So all these questions will presumably remain unanswered forever.

But Canon Things About New Inertia Include:

he's "new to this"

not the previous incarnation of Inertia

two inches taller than the previous Inertia

received the Inertia costume from someone else, only referred to as "they"

working with Superboy Prime, but with zero on-panel interactions with either Superboy Prime or any of the other villains who have joined the fight. the degree of familiarity is unclear if not nonexistent.

irreverence regarding his predecessor implies he doesn't know the full history of what went down between Inertia and Bart

may or may not be another clone

gets the shit kicked out of him

it's so frustratingly vague lmao.

so yeah i took that and ran with it to inform Six's traits and backstory: The "they" who gave him the costume becoming CRAYDL, the other Six's, (and Project Inertia more generally). His height because he's slightly older than the previous Inertia was.

Follows-up on the previous Inertia's antagonism with only vague knowledge of what actually happened. Underestimates Bart's feelings on the topic. Joins up with Superboy Prime, not because of loyalty or familiarity but because going solo is what killed the old guy. Irreverent, uncommitted, overconfident. Tends to get the shit kicked out of him.

and then to follow up on this fight, Six's "first" meeting with Bart becomes his own weird revenge quest over that one time Bart kicked his ass. mostly just wanted the closure there, and for Six to have held a grudge about it for literal centuries bc it is funny 2 me.

my motivation for writing Frequency came from a frustration at the contradictory/unexplained/unexplored plot points and storylines specifically surrounding Thad/Inertia, this whole thing being a major one. At its most basic, Frequency is just my attempt to weave the disparate elements of canon into a cohesive narrative.

[its-your-mind]

okay well I know I said I wasn’t watching tonight and I’m STILL NOT but ALSO I did see pics of the new art and 1. I love it all so much they are all. Very pretty. Ashton and Dorian specifically did make me briefly black out. Friends you are going into the snow wtf are you doing but also don’t stop doing it holy SHIT I bet Orym just got a nosebleed as soon as he saw both of them anyways speaking of Orym 2. ORYM. MY BBY MY BOY. Two things. First I love the bluebells he’s growing bc that’s his DORIAN flower and that’s cute as fuck but SECOND AND MORE IMPORTANTLY he is growing!! His!! Hair!! Out!!!!!! Do you understand me???? It’s long enough to curl! It’s got enough weight to it to hang down over his face!!

(and you KNOW this was an intentional decision on the part of Liam “Caleb shaved his beard as soon as they got to xhorhas but let his red hair grow long and started to take care of it” O’Brien. He knows what he’s doing.)

I have been having so fucking many thoughts about Orym and his responsibility to his husband and dad and keyleth and his people and the hells and dorian and and and and. and I’m Not gonna be able to get them all into one post I think but Y’ALL. He is Intentionally ditching the military haircut. That’s the kinda haircut you gotta Maintain, ESPECIALLY if your hair curls (trust me — my undercut is on a Strict Schedule bc if I don’t shave it back every month or so it just becomes a field of curly-cues beneath my long hair). My boy Orym keep that cut Sharp and Precise for five years of wandering mostly alone. There hasn’t been any commanding officer telling him to cut it since he left home. But he kept doing it!!

I’m sure it was part routine, but it was absolutely also a connection to home and to the responsibility he had taken on, which we KNOW at its core was a responsibility to his husband and father. They were soldiers. So was he. They wouldn’t stop fighting. Neither would he.

And the Hells found the killer! Found out why the attack had happened! Reported it all back to keyleth, even! Orym did his duty - he hasn’t been an active air ashari soldier for a while now, even if his five years away counted as official business.

But he kept the military cut.

Until now.

Until after he had finally helped to kill the woman who had struck down the man he loved and the man who raised him.

Until after Dorian came back, only one day after Orym begged him, not because Orym needed his help, just because Orym needed him.

And so Orym wears his Ashari armor, is working to advance the world-preserving efforts of the Tempest, but he also lets his hair grow out, and he adorns himself in bluebells.

When Orym died on the end of Otohan’s blade, Will sent him back. Told him he wasn’t done.

Will wasn’t talking about a mission from the Tempest, or his own need to be avenged. Orym knew that then. He knows that now.

But Orym did still feel the responsibility to his family and to his people, to end the threat. And even though it was only a small part of a greater danger, it is still a threat neutralized. Now, there’s this freedom, this world of possibility that wasn’t there while Otohan was still alive.

And yes, things are horrible. They’ve all just lost a dear friend. It’s causing internal ruptures and dangers and it’s still possible the world will end soon. He’s made a lifelong deal with an Archhag. He’s still not sure what his responsibility is to the Tempest.

But Dorian’s here, now. Back by his side.

And Orym decides to let his hair grow out. Just this once. What the hells, right? Everything is changing. The world might end. Might as well see what kind of person he can grow into before he’s done.

[lvrcpid]

PICK YOUR SIDE (rewrite)

includes : fem!reader. cursing. implied death. older sister!reader. younger sister!reader. reader is older than lo’ak but younger than neteyam. angst. read with caution (?). i’m leaving this on a cliffhanger.

they say a picture is worth a thousand words. you beg to differ. the smiles of your family members made your mouth go sour. who knew it would go so wrong so quickly.

your fingers trailed over the family photo in your hand, stopping over neteyam’s face. he was such a bright soul, he must’ve been so scared.

it’s been a few years since neteyam had passed. three to be exact. the family went somewhat back to normal but the home you all once shared felt more dull and dim than normal.

you all left neteyam’s things untouched. his bow still in the same place. his pillow positioned in the same way. you all just couldn’t move it, feeling like you were slowly removing parts of neteyam by touching his things.

your family all grieved him in different ways. some ways were healthy and some were questionable. but you didn’t feel the need to bring it up. you were dealing with your own feelings. you felt hurt, betrayed, guilty and most of all, angry. your anger was a force to be reckoned with per-say. you did a good job at hiding it, pushing it down for 3 years straight.

your father experienced the most change out of all of you. becoming more protective of the rest of you all, never wanting to experience that kind of loss ever again. so when quartich and the rda came back, he immediately shut down the idea of helping them fight.

‘but father please i-‘ ‘y/n that’s final. you will stay here with lo’ak and tuk.’ yet again your father dismissed you, your mother flashing you a pitiful expression as she followed your father.

it wasn’t fair. you deserved just as much as a chance as they did. you could help them. you could avenge your brothers death. neteyam didn’t deserve to die in vain.

lo’ak appeared behind you, a large hand on your shoulder. lo’ak grew into such a mature young man, he was 17 now, a true warrior. he mirrored neteyam so much it brought tears to your eyes.

‘go. i’ll watch tuk. go help them fight’ he said, placing something in your hand. it was neteyam’s bow and a few of his arrows. ‘lo’ak no i can’t-‘. lo’ak said nothing as he pushed you out of your home, giving you a small smile before running back in.

you quickly caught up to your parents. jake didn’t speak as he figured you would come anyways despite his warning. he knew you were just like lo’ak, hard headed and stubborn. neytiri didn’t want to admit it but she was glad you were there.

the three of you managed to make your way deeper into the forest, your bodies on constant high alert. your ear twitched as you heard a twig snap, neck snapping towards the noise as you quickly lined up the arrow with his bow, whispering a quick ‘make this one count neteyam..’ before the figure jumped out at you, holding its hands up and yelling ‘don’t shoot it’s me!’ you instantly recognized the voice as spider, lowering your bow and sighing. ‘you’re lucky i didn’t kill you’ not knowing the events that would take place there shortly afterwards.

your dad had alerted you that they had found quartich a few moments later, turning your attention from spider and bolting your way towards the cliff they were on, spider hot on your tail.

you watched as your father and the man who’s tortured your family for years tussled, both men slightly wounded from the brawl. ‘mom! dad!’ you yelled, turning their attention to you. just then quartich quickly kicked jake off of him, radioing in for the helicopter to come down and get him.

your father rubbed his nose and your mother ran up to you, screening for any injury. ‘mother i am fine..’ the winds from the helicopter propellers made your hair fly into your face, watching as your father just let him go. ‘you son of a bitch i thought we killed you already!’ he yelled over the noise.

quartich just let out a sinister laugh, looking behind them and winking. ‘you have my boy to thank! saving his old man like a son should!’

your world froze. your blood went cold. the sound of the bow and arrows hitting the floor like blocks on a carpet. you couldn’t help but slowly turn around, horror painted across your face as you met eyes with the boy who you thought of as a friend. as a brother.

‘boy..is this true’ jake said, the noise was gone as quartich flew away. spider was silent. the 3 year long feeling of guilt eating away at his insides as he put his head down, shame written all over his face.

neytiri said nothing, afraid she was going to severely harm the boy yet again, she stayed silent, yet her eyes told a million words at once.

you felt like you couldn’t breathe. you felt like the world was caving under you as you stalked over to the boy. ‘did you..really?’ you asked, your voice nothing short of a whisper. he met eyes with you, giving a shameful nod.

in that moment you felt nothing but rage. 1,065 days of rage. the nights and days you stayed up sobbing, wishing to yourself that it was you. praying to eywa to bring your brother back. 3 years of suppressed anger bubbling over like tea in a kettle.

everything moved in an instant. one minute you were in front of the boy, now you are dangling him from the cliff, his cries and pleads with you to spare his life were muffled as your mind was spinning every which way.

‘y/n no!’ your father tried to rush over to you but neytiri was quick to stop him. while she disliked the human boy, her body tensed up watching you hold him over the ledge. one wrong move and you both were done for. ‘ma jake..if you go..they will both fall’ she said, holding a tight grip on her husband. jake looked surprised at you. you couldn’t even hurt a fly if you tried and here you were, on the verge of killing spider.

he felt bad for both parties. spider was just a boy protecting his family, as jake does with his own family. and you were his grieving daughter. he felt for you but he also felt for spider

‘y/n just think about this..you don’t have to do this..killing him won’t bring neteyam back..you gain nothing from this..’ he said, breaking from neytiris grip, stalking over to you with his hand extended, hoping you would break out of this trance and realize what you’re doing.

‘father..you really want to save this human? he’s the reason your son is dead.. your precious golden child..and you want to save him?” you looked back at your father, leaning spider over the edge even further, almost slipping in the process.

‘y/n!’ your mother called, now behind jake as she’s trying desperately to pull you back, afraid to lose another child.

‘i’m going to give you both a choice..pick your side..me?’ you said turning to them, angry tears now streaming down your face. you slowly turned your head to the now sobbing boy as he continued to beg and plead for his life.

‘or the bitch im gonna kill?’

tags 🏷️: @23victoria @avtprint @bucky12345 @boilingpots @Marcswife21 @elegantkidfansoul @itsyogurl @stars4deku @stvpidscvpid @uniltsatirey @urdeadpoet @annamarieisbae @graysonmalik2550 @blueberryfailureclinic

[lexyleblancc]

What a woman {Finan}

Summary: You find yourself spilling confessions in the rooms of an Alehouse. 

Ragnar x sister!reader Uhtred x sister!reader Finan x fem!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Part 2 to “The kindness of a Dane.”

Part one

Warnings: Nothing other than Athelwold being himself 

It came to no surprise to you when Uhtred renewed his oath to Alfred once back in Wessex. It came to no surprise to you when Ragnar sent Brida ahead to gather any and all of Ragnar’s men that would answer the call. What did surprise you, was even once in Winchester, Finan never stayed far from your side. “Finan, you do know that you are free to find yourself a woman to bed while we are here? You do not have to stay with me.” You told the man who sat across from you in the alehouse. 

“Oh I’m very aware of my freedom to do so, Lady.” Finan spoke with a grin, watching as a woman passed the two of you, her eyes lingering on Finan as she did. “I’m afraid none of them have caught my interest enough.” He told you, lifting his cup with a grin. The man across from you had finally been able to properly bathe, ridding himself of any dirt caked onto his skin, and you had to admit; Finan was quite handsome. 

“Well, you’ve caught plenty of their attention.” You told the man with a small laugh, your eyes falling on an approaching figure behind the man. Ragnar sat at the table with the pair of you, a grunt leaving his lips as he made eye contact with you briefly. “What crawled up your arse and died, brother?” You quipped, a snort leaving Finan as he tried to stifle his laughter. 

“You are aware that our brother renewed his oath?” Ragnar asked, accepting the cup of Ale one of the barmaids brought over for him. You nodded your head, you were more than aware of the fact your brother has once become the King's personal lap dog. 

“I’m sure Uhtred had his reasons for it.” You told your brother. “He did kill a man of the lord.” You spoke mockingly which made Ragnar crack a small smile at your antics. 

“Will you stay with him?” Ragnar asked you quietly. 

“Do you ask as a request, or do you ask for fear of me leaving you behind?” You asked, an eyebrow raised as you set down your empty mug. 

“Both?” 

“I think Uhtred may need me for a while.” You said with a sigh. You didn’t want to leave Ragnar, in fact you wanted to join him anywhere he went. You also knew that this time around, Uhtred would need any person he could to follow him. He needed the guidance and support of his younger sister, and you couldn’t bear to leave him once more. “I do expect a welcome party when I come to visit in Dunholm.” You said with a smirk, Ragnar nodding his head in agreement. 

“I thought we were going to deal with the brothers?” Finan questioned the two of you. Your eyes drifted to the Irishman as you smiled. 

“Oh, we are Irishman.” You said with a smile. “But after we take care of those bastards we ride to Dunholm and avenge our parents once and for all.” The news of your sister Thyra being alive had only set the plan in stone. If Thyra truly was still alive, it was all the more reason to reclaim Dunholm to the Ragnarsson’s.

The three of you paid for your ale, leaving the silver on the table before making your way out of the Alehouse. You were leaving Winchester and making your way to Guthred of Northumbria. In the courtyard of the castle, Finan assisted you onto your horse, you didn’t need the help but accepted it from the man anyways. Finan mounted the horse beside you before the group departed from Winchester for the time being, leaving Gisela in the care of the King. 

Ragnar rode with Uhtred at the front of the group, while you and Finan rode behind them. You drowned out the men around you, rolling your eyes when the King’s Nephew Aethelwold spoke of finding a woman to bed soon. You noticed his eyes burning into the back of your head as he spoke those words, as well did Finan. 

“Look at her again, I dare ya.” Finan said to him, his eyes narrowing in a glare. 

“And what are you going to do if I can’t help myself?” Athelwold asked with a smirk, this gaining the attention of both your brothers. Ragnar was about to butt into the conversation but Uhtred shook his head, his eyes on the Irishman. 

“Then you best pray you don’t fall asleep tonight.” Finan’s voice was low, almost a growl. You rolled your eyes at this, but couldn’t deny the butterflies in the pit of your stomach as he defended you. Your eyes met Finan’s and you offered a small smile in thanks. Amongst all these men, you and Hild were the only two women to join them. You were a seasoned warrior, and have seen more battles than you could even count at this point but Hild was a woman of her God and a warrior as well, neither of you should require protection from one discredited heir to the throne. 

When the group stopped for rest, they ended up in Loidis, a small village. Everyone was quick to dismount from their horses, sore from the long journey. “Let me, Lady.” Finan spoke, his hands on your waist as he helped you down. 

“Thank you, Finan.” Your hips were sore from the movement of your horse, and it felt good to be on your own two feet once again. Your hand found Finan’s arm as he led the way to the Alehouse Ragnar had slipped into with Brida. You knew people would come at Ragnar’s call, if Danes were anything it was loyal to their leader. The two of you slipped into the Alehouse, while others from the group took the horses to the stables to be fed and cooled down. A small group of you stood on the sidelines, watching as Ragnar’s men exclaimed with joy at the return to their leader, a fond smile on your face. 

After the greetings had died down, rooms had been paid for, and everyone was fed until their heart's content, you found yourself sitting around a table. You were squished between Steepa and Finan. “Oh Ragnar, your woman’s got the balls of a bear. I like her.” Finan said with a smile, your eyes watching as Brida left the table, dismissing herself for the night. You sighed to yourself, no longer being able to deny the fact that your eyes had grown heavy. You steadied yourself using Finan’s shoulder as you stood from the chair you were sitting on, and bed the men around you a goodnight. 

“(Y/N), one of us will have to share a room with you.” Uhtred spoke up, his eyes on you when you were halfway to the stairs. 

“Irishman, you’re with me.” You agreed, locking eyes with Finan from your spot at the bottom of the stairs. Finan nodded his head quickly, watching as you disappeared up the staircase. 

“You won’t be touching our sister, Irishman.” Ragnar spoke, ripping Finan’s gaze from the empty staircase and to the blonde Dane. The men quickly finished their conversation, coming up with a plan to easily take care of the issue of Erik and Sigefried. When everyone was making their way to the rooms of the inn, Finan pushed the door to your room open. You were curled up on one side of the bed, furs pulled to your chin. You looked much younger in your sleep, when your brows weren’t frowned constantly, you looked peaceful. 

“Bar the door.” You whispered once Finan closed the door to the room. He almost jumped hearing your voice, he expected you to be sleeping. He made sure to lock the hatch over the door, before he started ridding himself of his armor. Your own armor was sat on a chair, your sword placed beside the bed. The man copied your actions, looking around the room and frowning at the realization that the bed you were resting in was indeed the only bed in the room. “Stop standing there like an oaf and get in bed Finan.” You grumbled, rolling onto your back so you could face the man. 

Finan could feel like blood rushing to his face as you spoke, but pulled back the furs enough for him to climb under as well. He made sure to keep to his side of the bed, laying on his back as he stared up at the ceiling. “Thank you for today, with Athelwold I mean.” You finally said, breaking the silence. Finan glanced at you slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“You’re welcome, Lady.” He replied softly, making you roll your eyes in annoyance. 

“How many times must I tell you to stop calling me Lady?” You asked. You knew that this Irishman in particular was respectful, but after weeks of traveling together you figured he would finally listen to you. 

“It’s what you are, no?” Finan hummed in response, a smile tugging at his lips. He knew you hated when he called you Lady, that’s why he insisted on it. 

“Lady of Bebbanburg, Lady of Dunholm… how much can a title like that hold when both of your brothers have no claim to their homeland?” You questioned. The two of you laid in silence for a while longer, and Finan had assumed you finally fell asleep. “Where are you from, Irishman?” You asked quietly. Finan didn’t talk about his life before he was a slave, which seemed slightly unfair since he knew so much about you now. 

“Small kingdom in Irland.” Finan muttered, memories of his homeland were nothing but painful, even after all these years. “Married a sweet Lady, only did it because her status was higher than mine… but I didn’t love her.” He told you, his voice sounded distant as he spoke. “No, I was in love with my brother's wife.” Finan said with a laugh. “She was nothing more than a milkmaid, and yet there was no doubt in my mind that I loved her… so we fled.” Finan groaned as he remembered everything he did his best to forget. “I was exiled, stripped of my titles and sold into slavery after that. That’s about when I met Uhtred.” 

You rolled onto your side to face him, offering him a tiny smile. “Would you ever go back to find her?” You asked, holding the furs tightly against you. 

“No, I would not, Lady.” Finan said with a dry chuckle. He had no reason to go back to his life before joining Uhtred and swearing his loyalty to him. “I have no reason to go back there, I enjoy my life now.” You reached out, your hand grasping one of Finan’s that rested over his chest. He squeezed your hand tightly, shifting so he could face you fully now. 

“I shouldn’t say I’m glad to hear that… but I’ve grown fond of you Irishman.” you whispered, a smile on both of your faces now. 

“I’m quite fond of you too, Dane.” Finan replied, bringing your hand up and pressing his lips to your knuckles. “Let’s save the confessions for the morning, you should rest.” The man added in, trying to let your hand go, and only smiling wider when he noticed you refuse to let it go. “If you’re not gonna let go, at least turn around.” 

You raised your brow at that, but turned on your other side to face away from the man. He grinned to himself, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you further into his chest. You only smiled to yourself at the action, closing your eyes so you could finally drift off to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning to shuffling behind you. Desperately trying to blink the sleep from your eyes you rolled over to face the man who laid behind you. “I think it’s about time we get up, my Lady.” Finan spoke, his voice still laced with sleep. You let out a groan laying your head on the man's chest as his arm wrapped around your shoulder. 

“I’m not ready to deal with everyone just yet.” You mumbled, the sound of your voice being muffled by Finan’s tunic. He couldn’t deny that he wasn’t either. As soon as you left this room you would be back on the road for God knows how long, sleeping on the forest floor, all before fighting a battle you very well may not make it out of. “Let’s discuss those confessions you were talking about last night instead.” You said, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Finan said with a chuckle. There was a big difference between Saxons and Danes. Finan most of the time would beat around the bush when it came to voicing his emotions, while you didn’t have time for that, you were blunt and spoke what was on your mind. 

“I like you Irishman, so do you plan to do something about that or not?” You asked, making Finan’s cheeks grow pink at your question. Normally he was the one approaching women, not the women approaching him. Never in his life had someone been so blunt towards him either. 

“Oh I plan to do somethin’ about it alright.” The man said with a grin, wrapping his arms around your waist and flipping the two of you. Your back met the furs as he held himself over you. “A Lady such as yourself shouldn’t want an exiled Lord.” His lips brushed yours as he spoke, making your head dizzy. 

“Then stop calling me Lady, and you and I are the same.” You retorted, nudging his nose with your own. 

“You really want to be stuck with a Christian man, Dane?”

“You want to be stuck with a Dane?” Finan grinned, you could always keep up with his quick wit and he loved it. “If the answer is yes, then do something.” You teased. As much as he didn’t want to give into you, Finan knew that would be impossible. It’d been weeks since you helped nurse him back to health, you trained with him when his hands shook under the weight of a sword, you never gave up on him. You saw the man that Finan would be when he couldn’t see it for himself. 

He inhaled shapely before connecting his lips with yours, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as he did. You were quick to respond, your arms going around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer to you. His beard tickled your skin as his lips attached themselves to your neck, making you gasp. “God woman, what are you tryna do to me?” Finan growled against your skin, his hand gripping your hip as he spoke. 

A knock on the door broke you two apart. “We meet downstairs!” The voice Uhtred called, you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you while Finan looked from the door and back to you once more. You leaned forward to capture his lips once more, leaving the man dazed as you crawled out of bed and words to put your armor back on. You left the room first, leaving the man who was rushing to ready himself for the rest of the journey. 

“What a woman.” He breathed, rushing out of the room to meet the others. 

“Might I say, you do look lovely this morning (Y/N).” Finan rolled his eyes hearing Athelwold’s voice ring through the room. 

“Athelwold,” Finan spoke, wrapping his arm around you once you were in his sight. “Look at my woman again, and I’ll kill ya, you little rat.” 

Athelwold nodded his head quickly, scurrying away from the two of you while Uhtred and Rangar gave each other knowing looks. 

“Your woman?” You asked, looking up at the man who was wrapped around you. 

“Aye, my woman.” 

[merp-blerp]

Just thinking out loud about The Thunder Saga and everything connected to it.

I get why people are mad at Eurylochus for opening the windbag, but I don't understand blaming him for the crew getting caught by Poseidon. Sure he definitely sped up the event, but even if they were inches away from Ithaca right before that moment like they were in the original Odyssey (which seems to be hinted at with Ody saying "And I'm getting closer to you"), Poseidon would've gotten to them eventually anyway because he's a god, a major one at that. And gods get their will no matter what consistently, even if mortals try to twist it like how Ody does when opening the bag a second time. I can only assess what sagas we have currently, so I could be really wrong as future sagas come out, but I think Aeolus must've known that fact and that was the game he was playing. As if he's saying, "I'll help you, but I can't stop Poseidon with a bag. The Winions will even make it extra hard with a treasure rumor." The bag was supposed to aid the crew home, not stop Poseidon, so they would've had to deal with Poseidon anyway in Ithaca, which probably would've made more casualties because they would've brought their trouble to the whole kingdom. Remember Ithaca is on an island. Poseidon is the god of the sea, so Ithaca would be a perfect target for him to destroy because of that. But it's not his will to do that; he wants to play games with Ody to avenge his son. The only reason why mortals feel like they have a choice and can manipulate fate is because the gods like to play games; it's still their will if Ody wins a game like he does in "Ruthlessness" because it was their will to play in the first place, and they can win if/when they want to. Just 'cause Poseidon "lost" in "Ruthlessness" doesn't mean he actually did, he just let Odysseus go. For now. If his will changes and Ody gets no consequence from him it's on his terms, not Ody's. Just like with Circe, as I've talked about.

But back to Eurylochus, I adore the parallels between The Thunder Saga and The Ocean Saga. During The Ocean Saga, Eurylochus only opens the bag, not for treasure, but to give the crew closure, as we know thanks to Aeolus's "Now they wanna get the bag open so they can have closure". Especially if they were close to home, I imagine his thought process might've been that opening the bag was wrong but morally okay since the journey was almost done and Odysseus was sleeping so it seemed like it wasn't a big deal anymore in his eyes. But that's more my hypothesis. In terms of canon, his trust in Ody, which wasn't high to begin with, was dwindling, as Ody bragged about how no men died in war and then several died with the Cyclops. "Everything's changed since Polites, so". In The Thunder Saga, it's similar, as Eurylochus knows killing the cow is wrong, but they've all lost hope on getting home with their captain going to extremes to get there himself, killing them slowly like with Scylla. They know that deep down the whole time Odysseus wanted to get home himself mainly, only bringing the crew because he cared out of the kindness of his heart, and now that his heart has changed they know they won't get to Ithaca if the gods keep messing around (and they do). This post pointed out that Eurylochus was likely just trying to provide for the crew and himself in their final moments before another trap emerges and Odysseus decides to continue to sacrifice his men if he feels it has to be done again. Eurylochus isn't dumb, he knows their goose is cooked if they kill the cow, especially with Ody in his ear telling him, but they'll die either way, in the hand of the gods or Ody. They will die and not see home, but at least they can die not starving, and go on for a bit longer. They had nothing to lose. Eurylochus had doubted Odysseus this whole time and he does so till the end. When Eurylochus says, "But we'll die", it's not a plea to stay alive, it's him confirming out loud that Odysseus will not choose his men over Penelope and Telemachus. He's reaffirming to Ody that they'll die; almost like he's finishing Ody's sentence "I have to see her". Odysseus couldn't say it, but Eurylochus could since he'd known they'd died for so long already. In the live stream animatic, the crew attempting to kill Odysseus near the end of "Thunder Bringer" isn't them trying to escape their fate, but trying to bring Ody down with them so Ody won't get his choice. They've long accepted the fact that Ody isn't to be trusted and they all are going to die, but Ody is, for lack of a better word I can think of, cheating in the crew's eyes by having an out thanks to Zeus. In their view of fairness, they all have to die if they aren't getting home. It's a last attempt at a mutiny. It fails because that's not how Zeus wants his game to work, and he gets his will.

They are all puppets of the fate the gods have chosen, whether that fate benefits them or not.

(The only "exception" to the "Will of the gods" rule so far is Ody and the baby, since Jay has said it's "ambiguous" whether or not the baby is spared. If not exactly by being dropped, I'm sure he'd die some other way honestly because the gods want that. It'll probably come up again in a later saga—"ambiguous" is too cryptic of a word to use when everyone assumed he died in the first saga)

This is all just my take, by the way, no one has to agree with me.

[avionvadion]

Fanon Diluc: “Red flags! Red flags all around! He’s so rude and mean and cold! How dare anyone like him! He’s a murderer! Forget about the other beloved characters who have killed people, like Tartaglia who actually enjoys killing, he’s the only one! He’s the worst!”

Canon Diluc: Literally one of the sweetest characters. Gave tiny child Klee grape juice instead of getting mad when she burned down the vineyard and walked her home safely. Is so used to dealing with nobles and their sleazy antics and mind games that he’s socially awkward with normal folk. Made a drink after the Traveler and offered to name it after them. Was straight up *ready* to cut down someone he thought was a pervert harassing the maids. Only went on the fatui murder spree to avenge his father and discovered children had been going missing/experimented on by the fatui. (Ie, Collei) Is literally just one green flag after another.

Haaaaah, people baffle me.

Anyways. Kaeya’s hang out has made me love Diluc even more. Man don’t stand for creeps.

According to Kaeya, “Diluc thought some pervert was harassing the maids. He charged straight out the door, greatsword in hand and raring to go. I haven’t seen him so angry in a long time.”

DILUC IS A GOOD BOI. 🥺💕

[hurtspideyparker]

What do you think about Marvel's move bringing back RDJ but now as Dr. Doom. I just wondered how this would affect Peter...

At first I was like OH MY GOD ROBERT DOWNEY JR. because I just adore! him! And of course I would love him back in Marvel, cuz I'm a sap and RDJ as Tony Stark revolutionized superhero cinema. Also "new mask same task" and striking the Tony Stark T pose? Legendary stuff.

Then I actually thought about the implications and the character, and I'm just not a fan. Bringing Downey back as anyone but Tony Stark is really weird, and doesn't make sense. Feels like an insane Tony Stark+Dr. Doom plot, which they made up just to get RDJ back cuz he's the money maker. Plus Dr. Doom deserves a new unique actor, especially a Romani one. I do love Dr. Doom as an MCU villain though, if he is cast properly. If they were gonna bring a Tony variant into the MCU make him a TONY variant, using Dr. Doom isn't it. Although under different circumstances I'd love to see more of RDJ as an antagonist, he's an incredible actor (his 1998 film US Marshalls started a fire in me for him to play more villains).

ANYWAYS - ignoring all the negative stuff, let's talk about Peter Parker!

I'd like to imagine a scene where Peter is fighting Doom - he's using his usual quips, being silly. He thinks it's just another day, another villain. Doom is incredibly strong and it's a tough fight, but Peter just manages the perfect hit to tear Doom's mask off.

Then he hesitates.

While scarred and cruel, the sight is still unmistakably familiar.

"Tony?"

Doom doesn't waver, he strikes Peter with deadly and immediate force in his moment of weakness.

Peter goes flying backwards, smashing through glass and brick.

He's hurt, badly, lying still on the floor beneath Doom. Bloody and torn Doom leaves him there, a pitiful and easily distracted kid. He doesn't know what he said, nor does he care. Von Doom just squashed a bug.

Left alone, Peter suffers from the ache in his body, the hit to his ego, and the biggest question - what did he see?

He questions whether he was drugged, or having a stress-induced hallucination. It doesn't make any sense for this to catch up to him in the middle of a battle. That's usually when he's most focused and level headed.

Sure, he used to see Mr. Stark. In billboard models with goatees, in the kind smile of a professor, in the corner of his eye when walking down the street. He never thought it was really him though, and it's been years since he's been struck so painfully with memories of his old mentor.

This, this is completely different. He stared right at Tony's face as clear as day.

Maybe Peter drags himself to the nearest hero. Still bloody and bruised, but he has to tell someone what he saw. Who is there? Who can he call? Hawkeye? Bruce Banner? Daredevil? They may not know Peter Parker, but he's still Spider-Man. He has a big name, and I'm curious who's taken notice.

Personally, I'd kill to finally get a Spider-Man and Fantastic Four team up in theatres. With the FF movie coming out and Doom being a big nemesis to the team I'm really hoping we get some Fantastic Four and Avengers interactions.

Anyways. Peter warns them, or does research on his own. He obsesses over this Doctor Doom.

Fast forward, maybe Doom and Peter work together against another evil, or Doom's own invention. Or maybe they're just near each other enough to get to know one another.

Doom and Stark do have some things in common, and I think that would strike a chord in Peter. Doom is an intellectual, a scientist, he's a self-absorbed perfectionist.

Doom commends Peter on his genius, his capabilities. Offers him a deal to join him and put his brain to good use. It would hit too close to home for Peter. A kid who wanted nothing more than to be like Tony Stark, to be strong and intelligent. To have his old mentor look at him and acknowledge his effort.

It messes with Peter's head and brings up his unresolved issues with Tony. It makes him sick.

Peter Parker got erased, and now it's like he's reliving his youth and trauma in some twisted and dark remake.

Maybe there's something bigger at play here. Maybe someone is haunting him, torturing him.

Laughing at him.

[acciotherapists]

Little Sparrow: Chapter Two

Loki x Reader Mafia AU

When Tony Stark's little sister wakes up deep in enemy territory she assumes her life is over. She'll be killed or worse: used as a bargaining chip against her estranged brother. What happens when the mafia leader, Loki Laufeyson, offers her a deal she can't refuse? No sentiment. Only revenge. What happens when the truth is revealed? Will she betray her only family or betray the man she loves to hate? Little Sparrow is an enemies to lover's fic riddled with betrayal and spice!

Loki quickly moved me into our shared room, though he quickly assured me there would be two beds as he saw my eyes widen. “It’s simply for appearances, darling,” he promised. “If I’m to protect you from even my own men, as you claim it was one of them that did this to you… then they all need to believe you’re mine,” he growled. “They wouldn’t dare touch what’s mine.”

He left me alone after that as his phone rang and he took the call outside. I didn’t have anything to unpack so I simply sat on the bed. The only bed. I tried not to worry as he told me there would be a second one brought in but could I truly believe the boss of the Asgardian gang?

I felt my phone buzz and I pulled it out, checking the now cracked screen. It was damaged from the attack but still usable.

Tony: Where the hell are you?

The door opened and I jumped as Loki entered the room, eyeing the phone in my hands.

“Hiding something, little one?”

I knew there was no point in lying; he’d just figure it out anyway.

“Tony texted me. He wants to know where I am.”

“And what did you say?”

“Nothing yet. You walked in before I could.”

His phone rang again and I could see his brow furrow in annoyance as he looked down at the screen.

“Respond. Tell him you’re fine,” he hissed, before answering the phone and turning toward the door. “This better be urgent,” he growled, closing the door behind him.

I quickly began typing.

Y/n: I’m okay. Just laying low for a bit but I’m okay.

He responded instantly.

Tony: I’m glad you’re okay but where the hell are you?

Y/n: I’m just staying with a friend for a bit. I’m ok.

Tony: Alright, kid. Just call me when you can and be safe.

I tried not to scoff at the message. Be safe. Yeah, right. Be safe deep in enemy territory with a man that would easily kill me and with no way out.

****

“This better be urgent,” Loki hissed as he slammed the door to his and now Y/n’s room.

“We found him, boss. He’s got her blood on his knuckles,” the voice on the phone answered.

“Bring him to the pit,” Loki growled, hanging up the phone and leaving Y/n alone.

He made his way to the pit quickly, finding one of his men tied to a chair.

“You’re certain?” Loki asked Syf and she nodded. “He was the last one to leave the base before she was attacked and he returned shortly before you found her with blood on his knuckles.”

“And you’re certain it’s her blood?”

“We didn’t exactly test it,” she chuckled. “But he admitted it as soon as we began our questioning.”

Loki looked at the man sitting in the chair, a strange fury settling in his chest.

“What shall we do with him, boss?”

“Take him for a one-way ride.”

She nodded and signaled for another group of men to escort him away as he struggled. When they were finally gone Syf approached Loki.

“What is it about this one?” she asked him, being careful with her words.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve never killed a man for a woman before… especially not for one who’s with the Avengers.”

“My reasons are my own,” Loki hissed. “Question them again at your peril.”

She backed off and Loki left the room, leaving more questions than answers.

****

When Loki reentered our now shared room his face was contorted with anger and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he tossed his jacket on a nearby chair.

“What exactly is the play here, Laufeyson?” I hissed, getting straight to the point. He was already angry so I saw no point in beating around the bush.

“What do you mean?”

“You told me to tell my brother I’m fine but said nothing about where I am. What is the point of me being here? On top of the fact that I have no clothes, nothing to sleep in, and a raging headache, you’ve told me nothing about this plan of yours other than you intend to keep me here.”

He chuckled darkly. “You’re free to leave whenever you wish, pet. I will not hold you hostage." I could see him watching me carefully, as if waiting for some sort of reaction but when he found nothing he sighed and tossed his shoes into the closet.

“I’ll have Frigga go with you to get some clothes tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I meant, Loki,” I sighed. “What am I even doing here?”

He smirked, slowly moving closer. He gently moved his finger under my chin. “You’re escaping, pet.” He slowly stood again. “You’re escaping that dull life of heroism,” he chuckled. “And you’re here so I can protect you.” He lifted the covers and I looked at him curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure. What are you really doing?”

“Oh, would you just lie down? I’m taking the couch for tonight. My men will have a new bed brought in tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine, little one. Just lay down.”

I reluctantly complied and he pulled the blankets up to my chin. As he pulled his hands away from the blankets his finger gently brushed my cheek and there was something familiar in the gesture that I couldn’t quite place. He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear his mind of something that troubled him and his face softened.

“Do you prefer the lights on or off?” he asked and my heart squeezed at the somehow familiar statement.

“What did you just ask me?”

“Lights on or off?”

“Off is fine,” I replied.

He searched my eyes and there was an uncomfortable tightness in my chest. 

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Old habit, suppose.” He left no time for me to respond before flicking off the lights and retreating to the couch.

****

Loki lay tossing and turning for much of the night, though he found the sound of Y/n’s breathing to be a calming escape from the thoughts in his mind.

[evita-shelby]

Incantatrice

Chapter 20

Cw: murder, suicide, ghosts and blood

A/N: friends, romans, countrymen, it has been an honor to write this fic with y'all

Special thanks to @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife @wandawiccan60 @call-sign-shark @cljordan-imperium and @minaethrym

It has been a year since Grace died in his arms. Had she lived would their marriage have survived the year, he wonders?

Would she have lived to leave him and take Charlie or would she have stuck by his side even as the Italians kill them one by one?

Tommy is pushed to call for a truce after Arthur’s death. So close to Grace’s death that their funerals take place the same day even if a year apart.

First John now Arthur. Only Finn remains and he has been packed off to Boston with Ada and Karl for their safety.

“Where will you go?” Polly asks him after she tells him of her plans to go to Australia and find Anna’s grave. Michael is hesitant to go, but keeps his knowledge of Polly’s deal with Luca a secret.

Self-preservation trumps all after all. Not that he blames them.

“Hell, finally.” Tommy is strangely at peace with it.

With Grace and Lizzie and little Charlie he had considered staying alive, but now he knows it was never the sapphire, he is the curse.

As long as he lives, everyone he loves will keep dying.

First with Grace and now with Arthur.

He might make it easier for Luca and just take his revolver into his mouth. No one but Tommy Shelby can kill Tommy Shelby.

They have lost anyways.

“I would have said there is still a chance, but I don’t think there is even if we had divine intervention.” The witch taps the card that came next in their last reading.

Two of cups, failure, loss.

The vendetta would be over, the Changrettas the winners.

But at least its over.

“If you can keep an eye on Charlie for me, I would forgive you for betraying me, Pol.”

His aunt nods sadly, and leaves to catch the last train to London.

“Do it, Thomas, we will be together again, me and you and Charlie watching us from heaven with Lizzie and little Ruby.” Grace’s voice said as if she stood behind him.

The way she adds Charlie’s name sends a shiver down his spine.

Had the Italians killed him?

“Luca doesn’t keep his promises, my love, he took my sweet boy even if he wasn’t your son.” The ghost says and he turns to see her in her modest clothes when she was a barmaid, when she pretended to be the woman he fell in love with. “Join us, while we wait for the others, Tom. Just take the gun and join us.”

And he does.

Thomas Shelby is thirty-six years old when he takes his own life.

On a two of cups he wrote: “You did not keep your word.”

And just like that, it is over.

The villain defeated, the dead avenged and England ripe for the taking.

And yet Eva’s wine tastes like blood all the same.

It never got easier for her, killing even indirectly always made her see how further and further the light is.

“Tonight we celebrate our victory, maga. Tomorrow my mother comes with the children and our new life truly begins.” Luca takes the glass and kissed her hands drenched in blood only she can see.

“You killed them all didn’t you?” He is covered in blood as well, but his have the handprints of children on his pristine white shirt.

Luca plays dirty, she should’ve known he wont let them live.

“A vendetta is a vendetta, I couldn’t take any chances, Eva.” He explains his actions so well she can almost believe his lies.“I didn’t want to, but I had to, vita mia.”

He wanted then dead, always has.

His brother and father’s death only gave him the reasons to finally do it.

“Why?” she asks as to why he’d go so far.

Polly and Michael never got on their train, Ada and the two boys never reached Benjamin Younger where he waited for them to start their life together.

Every single drop of Shelby blood had been spilled over the earth on his orders while they celebrated Tommy’s suicide.

“Because I don’t forgive those who betray me.” Luca’s hold on her wrists become manacles, manacles that won’t ever come off now.

The shadow that she saw the day they married had never left, how could it leave when it had become them.

A year ago today the shadow had begun to consume Luca and now the transformation was complete.

The man who stands before her has become the true devil of Birmingham, and she his queen.

He is not the man you think he is, she can hear Audrey’s warnings.

But I do know him, the witch reminds herself, they’d been married for six years and she knows him.

She should’ve known he wasn’t going to stop until everyone was dead. And now that Shelby was gone, he wouldn’t stop until all of England fears the Black Hand.

Sabini will learn that the hard way when he outlives his use to her husband. Poor little Aurora will die just like her parents and siblings will too.

And because she loves him, she will help him every step of the way.

“A good thing I never plan to, mi amor.” The witch let go of his hands and wrapped them around his neck.

No matter what she will never regret choosing him over all the men the world had offered her that day.

With a kiss she lets the darkness consume her as it seeps in through her mouth in a loving kiss.

Fin

[raayllum]

Few things, to begin (and we're rounding back to the "I turned some chains into snakes, don't worry)

The line that put the "Callum did dark magic to save the dragon and Rayla" to dust at long last (seriously - was Callum drawing the dragon in his sketchbook before resolving to leave? No) thank you very much.

And ofc it's setting up the turn later on in this episode, paralleling Soren, Terry, and Viren's (and even Rayla's in a way) word choices justifying the actions they likewise felt tormented over ("I have to do this. I don't want to, but I have to" in 1x02; "I had to" in 3x09; "I had to, I couldn't let him hurt you" in 4x03; "I had to so something, I had to save him!" in 5x03) etc.

Speaking of Viren in S5, this scene mirrors Kpp'Ar and Viren's encounter, with Kpp'Ar rebutting Viren's more noble motivations: "I have always done what protects my family." "No choice? Hah! You made the choice you always have: the one that gives you power." Here, Finnegrin takes a word that Rayla has used to describe Callum (3x01) and twists it accordingly. Yes, Callum wanted to save his friends, but he only did the dark magic for a good reason, but he's still the kind of person who will read dark magic books in the first place and seek out magic as a solution at all. He's still a mage, per Zubeia and Rayal's assessment: "Aaravos chose as his instruments people who had strong hearts and strong minds, but who had an insatiable thirst and fascination with magic." "Mages." "Yes, mages were his prey."

Unlike Lujanne, who is a master Moon mage, Callum doesn't consider dark magic to be an abomination - just another kind of magic, one that's worthy of study to him like all the rest. Curiosity is what paves the walkway, and Love is what makes him walk

Finnegrin here is also a stand in for Rayla in a way, vaguely reminiscent of their first meeting in 1x02. "I'm looking for someone [...] There are only two targets tonight" -> "I just want one thing... Well then maybe you found what I'm looking for." They're both even interrogating him and 'want' someone dead (legitimate in Finnegrin's case, maybe more diluted in Rayla's)! While I know most of us were like Callum why the fuck are you telling him anything, Callum trying to find some sort of common ground actually makes a lot of sense when the last time he talked a ne'er do well elf out of violence, it actually worked out

"Can't you just make peace with them?" "It's not that simple." (1x02 with Harrow) "But it's not that simple. It won't work." (Ezran in 4x03) "But it's not that simple." (Janai in 4x08)

Last but not least, you have the fact that both Claudia and Viren's steps are dogging Callum's path (in addition to the continuing fallout of what, is ultimately, always his decision), dealing with the consequences of all their actions. Claudia told Callum not to do dark magic in 2x07, bu he went through with it anyway, insisting that she'd already shown him how - just as she created chains to attack her friends, he unbound chains to save them. And of course, Finnegrin is only seeking this spell because he knows it can be done, even if he has no idea of the personal history Callum has to both the spell (done to avenge his mother by his father) and to the actual orchestrator of it (his predecessor and primary foil).

And last but not least, you have Finnegrin and Callum's primary parallel (Ocean spell notwithstanding) in which they both seek to kill someone ultimately to be free: for Callum, he was researching how to kill a powerful Startouch elf, and Finnegrin, well...

[moonlight-tmd]

Prowlbee. What's Bee thinking while Prowl is on his power trip with the armor while he was working with Lockdown?

Hmmm I don't really know what to say here- I haven't watched the show and for all I know is that Lockdown killed Yoketron and Prowl is trying to avenge his sensei. He found the armor somewhere inbetween the encounters with Lockdown I think.

But if you want my not-really-canon version then sure- do note that it's after Bee and Prowl are officially dating.

When Lockdown showed up on Earth along with Swindle Prowl became almost obsessed with making him pay for what he did to Yoketron. The fact Lockdown had Prowl's sensei upgrade-armor only empowered his desire to put a stop to the bounty hunter and anything related to him.

At first Bee thought it was deserved but the longer it went on he started to worry- Prowl wasn't rechanging with him most cycles, heck he even took all his free time to look into Lockdown and anything to help them deal with him once and for all... Bee felt like he was abandoned. He kept telling himself that once this deal with Lockdown is over then it will be like before, but damn, it hurt.

I think that some time before Lockdown fled from the planet Bee and Prowl had an argument about that. Prowl was staying up again looking thru the same datapads, trying to find any holes or weaknesses Lockdown may have so they can use it... Bee thought enough is enough and tried to pull him to berth to recharge but Prowl was stubborn- too stubborn to realize he yelled at Bee. Bee yelled back and it started. Prowl accusing Bee of not wanting to help him and Bee about how Prowl is obsessed. Eventually Bee snapped for real and with tears yelled at him for throwing him aside and that he was supposed to be his lover, not an entertainment to call up whenever he felt like it.

After that Bee stormed back into his room and Prowl was left alone, feeling the anger in him dying and being replaced by guilt. He was still frustrated, but hell, he felt like a piece of scrap- Bee was very dear to him. And he hurt him by this whole situation with Lockdown. The next day Bee didn't even say a word to him, just ignored him. The others were awkward too, they must've overheard them yell, they didn't say anything about it though... Not that Prowl wanted them to say something about it, it probably would've made him feel like more of a failure if they did.

Prowl managed to persuade Bee into listening what he had to say just as Bee was about to leave to help out with something around town. He admitted to being obsessed and that he took it too far and that he never meant to yell nor make Bee feel hurt... Fortunately, Bee forgave him- he's been waiting for Prowl to say those words for so long. He might have felt a little bad for yelling at him too but he deserved it.

Not that long after Lockdown ran away and hid, Bee could finally have his sparkmate back for real. Oh how he longed for the comfort of cuddling with Prowl and having him kiss him good morning. There still were other matters to take care of like the 'cons but it wasn't nearly as bad as the situation with Lockdown.

That's all I can say, I don't know the real scenario so- anyway hope you enjoyed!