#they need some way to track him

[spotaus]

Eyy, King Reaper and his beloved Mage Geno designs <3

[nabaath-areng]

I have way too many alts that I keep to myself (which is why I generally refrain from posting them), but I'm going to ignore that habit for a moment just because I'm feeling particularly insane about this guy.

[skitskatdacat63]

I'm not built for watching movies w straight dudes cause I can't say the things I want to say like, "James Bond would benefit from puppy play," "He should seduce a man next," "If I made a Bond film, I'd have him infiltrate a bdsm club as a sub" etc etc.

[seventh-district]

“Why’s he call you Darlin’?”

on my knees begging my brain to stop trying to associate this song with Sam

[akkivee]

so lol, i kinda and finally listened to the jyushi and hitoya drama track that came with noctiluna (i am working lol) and it was adorable lol, jyushi and hitoya rode their bikes out to the sea and had a lovely time 🤗

and so i’m sure hearing that the jyushi hitoya drama track was them going to the ocean immediately set off a lot of alarm bells, ik it did for me LOL but the track also went out of its way to explain that jyushi had wanted to go with kuukou as well, but he was mysteriously unavailable, much to jyushi slight frustration, and y’all gotta understand that the second round of manga drama tracks have hinted at developments that happened in this current track drop i’m so terrified the bat drama track might have something to do with the ocean bro 😭😭😭

[spacebagfullofstars]

Honda Oddysey Scene but in Evolution

This is a snippet of my X Men Evolution Deadpool AU that's been on my mind lately. Inspired by the most talked about scene in Deadpool and Wolverine

It was hard to tell when exactly the night rolled around. It was still dawn when they arrived in San Francisco and they haven't left their beaten up meat truck since.

Wolverine was still driving without any kind of direction. His mask was on, but his frown was visible through it. Deadpool, driving shot gun, seemed to had completely dissociated himself from his surroundings. He was switching between radio stations and trying to find the right music. The mutant, unfortunately, had to suffer through each song whenever the other man changed his mind. Currently, they were listening to Cher's 'If I Could Turn Back Time'.

A few seconds passed. Another switch, they were listening to 'War' by Edwin Starr.

Another few seconds. 'Shake your Groove Thing' by Peaches and Herb.

Another few seconds. 'Sugar, Sugar' by the Archies.

Before another few seconds passed, Wolverine reached out and turned off the radio, momentarily returning his attention on the road. The lack of eye contact and how quickly it happened made it come off as passive-aggresive.

"I was listening to that." Deadpool said, in all his audacity. Logan didn't give him the luxury of response. The mercenary tried to focus on the window, but without the background noise, his need to open his mouth grew stronger.

"I was going to give you half of the cut, you know." He said after a second, looking at Wolverine, who still refused to give him time of a day. "I'd never make it not worth your time. Think whatever you want of me, I treat my business partners with respect."

"You lied to me." Logan suddenly growled. Somehow, he sounded even more angry than usual.

"Strike two, ferret man." Deadpool said, making a peace sign at him. "I said that I needed your help, and I said that the old Hydra base could be of interest to you. Not my fault they didn't have any info on your past. That didn't count as lying, I just didn't tell the whole truth."

The mutant snarled, making Deadpool jump. He saw him gripping the wheel, which he was sure would leave a few dents. Not that he planned on returning the vehicle at that point.

"What? Tell me honestly, would you help me if I came up to you and said: 'Hey, Wolvie! Some rich weirdo paid me to go and steal something from this place that looks like a horror rip-off of Area 51! Also, did I mention that this place is full of freaky water tanks? Also also, did you know that apparently, our healing factor isn't immune to drowning?'"

"Would've been nice knowin' that before you waltzed right into a trap." Logan retorted through gritted teeth.

"You've had your healing factor longer than I have." Wade said, leaning against his seat and crossing his arms. "That one's just on you."

And just like that, Wolverine's buttons were pushed. Without any warning, he made a sharp turn. Deadpool regretted not tightening his seatbelt when he had the chance as he crashed onto the door next to his seat. The truck fell off the road and down the hill. It was far from a pleasant experience, but thankfully, it survived to tell the tale. It landed on a beach right under their road. It was empty, so the mutant parked on its sand.

As soon as the vehicle stopped, he swung and punched Wade in the face. The mercenary screamed, hiding it in his hands. He was lucky that he wore his red mask because he was pretty sure Logan broke his nose.

"Dude-!" Wade shouted. Before he fully recovered, he felt a strong grip on his neck. Now that Logan wasn't focusing on the road, all of his rage was directed at him.

"You want an apology? Fine, I'm sorry!" The mercenary managed, holding onto the hand crushing his neck. "If I knew you'd be so mad, I'd ask that brute Sabertooth to come!"

Logan roared as he slammed him against the back of the seat.

"You lied to me! You wasted my time! And because of you, we're bein' hunted down like animals!" The mutant's voice was barely there with all those grunts.

"I didn't lie!-"

"Yes, you did! You used my lost memories against me! You knew how much it meant to me to regain them and you still manipulated me into doin' your dirty work! You used me as a weapon, just like everyone else!"

"... Oh, boo-freaking-hoo!" Deadpool frowned, growing more defensive. That shift caught Wolverine off guard. "Little Wolverine can't remember his first day in new school! Guess what, jerk, I don't remember much after my experimentation either! But I don't let that hold me back! Here are some hard pills to swallow: You're so desperate to know your past that you let me of all people make a monkey out of you! Me! Keep trusting the wrong guys and soon you won't even have a future to look forward to!"

After he finished, he looked back at Wolverine. He was staring at him with this empty look that freaked him out even more than the angry snarl. Suddenly, he let him go and Wade fell back on his seat. He coughed and massaged his neck.

"Look, Wolv. I'm sorry." He tried, because he couldn't handle seeing him like this anymore. "Really, I am. But take it from me, maybe it's better to just forget... No hard feelings?..."

He didn't know yet that he said too much. Wolverine was silent for a few more moments. Then, he wheezed. The mutant threw his back against the seat, and running his hand up his scalp, he succumbed to his laughter. It wasn't a pleasant sound at all. It was strained, almost hysterical, and obviously provoked more by his fury than actual amusement. Still, it was the first time Deadpool actually made him laugh.

"Oh wow!... " The mercenary said through his nervous chuckle that was muted by Wolverine. "So that's how you laugh! Just as terrifying as the rest of you!... I didn't say any joke yet, though."

"You didn't have to." Logan sighed deeply, partially regaining his posture. The next look he gave Wade was entirely venomous.

"You are the biggest joke I've ever seen! There hasn't been as much of an audacious, or insecure, or callous stain on humanity than this manchild I have the displeasure of sittin' right next to! You're good for nothin' but spreadin' mysery everywhere you go! You ain't got no morals, no friends, and you make it everyone's problem, 'cause you can't ever accept the fact that your actions have consequences!" Logan paused to catch his breath. Deadpool visibly shrinked in his own seat. Suddenly, the mutant's claws came out and he shoved them to the back of the truck, scraping its surface in a long line.

"Oh, how I wish I pushed you off that cliff first time we've met! Maybe that would've gotten the message through your dense skull, just how much I want to see you set on fire! Hate doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feelin' towards you! Ain't no wonder why that blue woman you keep yappin' about hasn't come back to you yet! You have to make up an imaginary girlfriend to protect your delicate feelin's from the fact that nobody will ever want you! How 'bout this hard pill to swallow: The doctors that tortured you didn't ruin your life! You did! You have to act like an obnoxious clown, otherwise no one would ever give you the attention you're so obviously cravin'! I can't wait for the day when you'll wake up and realise that you'll be spendin' the rest of eternity alone, and you can thank only yourself for that! But that's just wishful thinkin', 'cause you're-" His claws pulled back and he slammed his fist against the marked metal.

"-too-" Slam!

"-stupid-" Slam!

"-to think of anythin' outside of your own bubble of insanity!" SLAM! The wall bended and partially fell apart, just enough for them to see the inside of their cargo.

At long last came the silence. Logan used his hand to support himself from collapsing. He panted and bared his teeth at the mercenary who grew concerningly quiet. Not for Logan, though.

"No more jokes, bub?" He leaned closer and sneered, not being able to resist one last jab. "Come on, give me a real tear-jerker. I'm feelin' like laughin' for a change."

He looked directly into Deadpool's eyes. All he saw in them were two empty voids. The mutant settled back on his seat and tried to catch his breath. A second later and he would've regretted some of the things he said.

"... Take it back." Deadpool murmured softly. Had it not been for Wolverine's super hearing, he would've missed it.

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" The mutant snorted loudly. It was his own enjoyment of seeing the mercenary be put in his place that led him to lower his guard. Before he knew, Wade grabbed the back of his head, painfully gripping a handful of hair and hood.

"I said take it back!" He roared with the anger he never let anyone see. Without any warning, he slammed Wolverine's head against the front of the car. Then he did it again and on his third time he accidentally turned on the radio.

'Why Can't We Be Friends?' by War started playing.

Slam!

'Express Yourself' by Madonna.

Slam!

'You're the One That I Want' from the musical Grease.

"Why you little-!" Wolverine wouldn't take it any longer. He grabbed onto whatever he could and prevented Deadpool from slamming his head again. He pulled out his claws and jammed them into the other's right shoulder. Wade cried out. Using the moment of distraction, the mutant freed himself. Then, he grabbed Wade's head, pulled him close, and then slammed his head against the radio. This time it played 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' by Elton John and Kiki Dee.

Despite being a taller man, Deadpool had to trouble slipping into a different position in his limited space. He kicked Logan onto the door, breaking the window and leaving a huge dent. The mutant growled, glaring back at him with pure fire in his eyes. Deadpool tried to throw a hit, but Logan caught his fist and then repeatedly punched him in the face. Wade dodged and a hit full of claws meant for him punctured the already beat down back of the truck.

The mercenary used this for his advantage. He managed to grab Logan by the shoulders and then threw him in order to take down the rest of the space separating them from the cargo. They both fell into the cold, smelly abyss where they could barely see each other. Not that it would stop them.

[barbieaiden]

rememberwhen he. remember. when. when.when. he

[deus-ex-mona]

when the slowburn makes the ship extra cute~~~

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety

[angelsdean]

ruthlessly deleting old 2021/2022 posts (not by me) from my dean studies tag like *click* un-incorporating that from my beliefs system! also the way SO many posts have me like ok uh-huh good aaand then say one completely wrong thing that loses me. it's so many posts.

[chaoticlandworlder]

lol good for Checo cuz the way ppl were so quick to shit on him for saying he didn't think he was out was ridiculous

[quietwingsinthesky]

the apartmentverse urge to make the assassins weird immortals due to interacting with the apple who all survive to the modern day and have to Deal with mundane things like public transport…

[batsplat]

from the stuff i’ve heard marc’s former honda teammates (dani jorge and pol in their media careers but joan also i guess) say about him now that they’re racing is generally quite positive, both on a professional/riding level but also seemingly on a personal level? i’m wondering what you make of that given that, yeah, marc doesn’t seem like a very good teammate (unless you’re alex who i’ve left off this list). like MARC wants to separate on and off track stuff and it seems like all of these guys are willing too at least in retrospect, so he can’t have truly burned bridges with them. do you have any thoughts on that

(x, x) most riders are quite good at not burning bridges with each other! it's not like marc's competitors don't know that this stuff is kinda part of the game. I mean, all of marc's past teammates were also trying to assert themselves within the internal hierarchy... you can say that certain teammates engage in 'worse' behaviour than others, but, like, these people do understand they're supposed to be fighting each other! a baseline degree of nastiness is factored in and will be accepted to a greater or lesser extent by your rivals - especially when it comes to asserting yourself in intra-team power struggles. you might hate the other guy in the moment, but generally speaking once the active part of the rivalry is done with... you will probably get over it. marc's fellow riders are aware of how ultra-competitive marc is - and to a certain point they do respect it, not least because they're aware that this is part of the reason why marc has ended up with all those titles. it's like dani said, right, it's marc's strong suit. and in general, you do have to say that there's relatively few teammate pairings that devolve to the level of toxicity that it completely destroys the interpersonal relationship. you might need some level of preexisting animosity... most of the purely competitive sins can be healed with a little time

on the 'separating on-track and off-track' thing... well. this is kind of a question of how you define these things, you can say that marc generally speaking isn't going to massively hold grudges over isolated on-track incidents or whatever... but he doesn't just leave his fighting to the track, and personally I've also never felt he can entirely separate these things out in his mind. can you really say his professional and private relationships with other riders are completely detached from one another? mostly, he's opted to be pretty disengaged from his fellow riders as a collective, and obviously that's a good way to not take things too personally... it's all part of the game, isn't it? sometimes it's good to go with the straightforward approach: marc tells you he will make your life hell, he does indeed make your life hell, and then you both move on with your lives and can maybe actually have a pretty amiable relationship with him in years to come. he's not really defying your expectations at any point here, is he now? it's still a question for each of them as individuals as to whether they think that kind of behaviour is above board and acceptable or not... but everyone by now knows that marc plays these games, so it's not like they're going in blind

and it's not like other former teammates are constantly badmouthing each other. I mean... look, let's just cut to the chase here and bring in valentino as our reference point (as he is for the sport as a whole, which by the way does also help create a certain baseline of acceptability for marc's antics - maybe goated riders are just supposed to be dicks who knows). vale's premier class teammates were 1) nobody (2000-01), 2) tohru ukawa (2002), 3) nicky hayden (2003; 2011-12), 4) carlos checa (2004), 5) colin edwards (2005-2007), 6) jorge lorenzo (2008-10; 2013-16), 7) maverick vinales (2017-20), 8) franco morbidelli (2021), and 9) andrea dovizioso (2021). of these eight men (let's just exclude 'nobody' for now), do you know how many had serious complaints at any point about valentino as a teammate? that's right, it's one guy. one. some of valentino's other teammates, like hayden, checa and edwards, were even quite actively positive about their whole experience. this is the thing - you do need some specific circumstances for teammate rivalries to escalate from 'being kinda bitchy every other month' to 'actively fantasising about stabbing each other'. not accounting for natural interpersonal animosity, let's list some circumstantial factors that you need to get a bridge-burning-worthy level of feud:

you need a competitive bike. it is possible to beef about development direction when you're in the trenches (cf late 2010's yamaha, 2020's honda)... but generally speaking this is going to be quite low-level petty stuff, not actual war

you also need something that approaches competitiveness between teammates. if one teammate is unquestionably stronger than the other one, then it is very unlikely that you are going to get any open hostilities. the tension comes when the two sides are close enough to each other for the internal hierarchy to actually be a contentious issue (this is also basic self preservation... if you're the far weaker teammate then you do not want to make the situation troublesome, because then you will be the one to be fired)

following on from those first two things... well, it doesn't hurt to have a title fight in the mix. there are also other ways you can generate competitive stakes, like, for instance, if you and your teammate know that one of you will be out of a job soon. basically, it helps to have something to squabble over

it is maybe easy to forget how rare it is this century for teammates to be fighting directly for a title, let alone over the course of multiple seasons. only two 1-2's since the year 2000 and they're both for the factory yamaha's (though 2006, 2011-13 and 2017 did all prominently feature two factory hondas). which means that for valentino, the prerequisites were met just the once in his premier class career... and yes, the results were pretty memorable, but (topic! for! another! post!) it's worth pointing out that even that relationship was pretty much 'fine' whenever there was a sizeable disparity between the two of them performance-wise (2008 and 2013 are the most clear cut examples). I think the way I'd frame it with marc is that he has a bunch of mildly dubious strategies up his sleeve to assert himself within the team, which don't really deviate that far from what you'd expect from a rider of marc's calibre and only need to be escalated under specific circumstances. that doesn't mean he doesn't have the potential to be ruthless, but up until now it's mostly been a fairly 'acceptable' level of ruthlessness on the intra-team level... and not something that is likely to make other riders actually hate him

taking marc's teammates one by one... dani was the closest to meeting the bridge-burning prerequisites, though he was only a title rival in marc's rookie season. and marc did go further with him than he did with anyone else, and dani has made some pointed comments about marc's style as a teammate... but yes, he is fonder of marc these days. partly I'd just emphasise again that this is a fairly natural progression when you've stopped directly competing for long enough, and partly it's also just a question of individual personality - dani's not massively into holding grudges. then there's jorge, who... I mean, they might as well not have been teammates, given that jorge was either too slow or too injured to even be sharing any track space with marc. you have to put that one down primarily to circumstance, seeing as jorge's own track record on the teammate front isn't exactly spotless. marc and jorge beefing in 2019 would have been pretty dumb and also a massive waste of everyone's time in a year in which marc singlehandedly won the team's championship. even those two needed more to get things going

moving on to the dark years, pol and marc had an extremely stop-and-start partnership on a honda that was generally pretty uncompetitive... so the only stuff they could get ever so mildly irritable about were riveting incidents like 'marc saying pol wasn't the biggest championship threat' (neither of them were) or 'pol saying he'd copy marc's set up' (which proved entirely useless). not exactly title decider territory, is it now, and marc very much had pol covered as a challenger throughout their partnership. also, those two do have a longer history! they've known each other since they were kids and hold a pretty significant place in each other's careers. now that pol's more or less retired, it's natural there'll be quite a lot of sentimentality there - which will paper over any small cracks that appeared during those two years. and joan was a one year teammate at a time in which the bike was consistently close to offing them both. they only managed to start a sunday race together as teammates on thirteen occasions. it would take some serious effort to engineer a feud with that little opportunity, and, really, why on earth would you bother. maybe if honda had gone for rinsy rather than joan for the factory seat, it could've been a bit more prickly, but it's unlikely that it would have escalated beyond that

this is the thing, right, the only one of these partnerships that would have been worth burning bridges over was dani, and even there marc pretty much had him handled after the first season. in general, marc has been pretty clear on how he's not interested in making friends with the other side of the garage while the teammate relationship is ongoing... which is fine! there's some prominent-ish teammate pairings that are actually good friends, some teammate pairings where one of them is actively helping out and advising the other one, but some riders prefer to just keep their distance. it would have been a little silly of marc to start a feud with a teammate who is galaxies away from being a competitive threat, let alone a title rival, but generally it is possible to toe the line between 'attempting to suppress your internal rivals enough to stop them from becoming a problem for you' and 'taking radical enough action to make your internal rivals despise you'

especially in the post-dani era, marc never really had any need to push things too far... and, let's face it, how many of your teammate relationships end up with burnt bridges is also quite frankly a question of luck and circumstance. do you want to guess which top rider on paper has the worst track record this century with premier class teammate feuds, in terms of a) how many they've had, and b) how little public reconciliation there has been since the end of the rivalry?

yes, that's right, it's the first name that comes to mind when you're thinking of toxic and conflict-prone riders: andrea dovizioso. that old devil, constantly causing trouble. just couldn't stop undermining his poor, innocent teammates. can somebody please stop this ruthless bully before it's too late

I think you get the point. I would personally suggest that dovi is not in fact the worst teammate it is possible to have in a motogp top team. he just happened to find himself in a situation where he was teammates with two separate guys he did not click with at all, in situations that involved a pairing of riders who were (or had the potential to be) competitive with each other, as well as some proper stakes attached to the rivalry. in general, situational factors are going to determine this stuff more than anything else... and marc more often than not does have a reasonably good feel for picking his battles. he's flirted with the line, but he's mostly avoided crossing it. he hasn't had to

[certifiedwerewolf]

Remember that episode of Suite Life where Zack pretended to have ADHD because his schoolwork was shit and if he had ADHD he'd have ADHD accommodations and a special education class and once he had accommodations his performance improved? And he eventually came clean and got in trouble and had to go back to regular classes where he would have to just buckled down and work harder? And he was portrayed as lazy Zack being lazy by wanting ADHD accommodations because of course HE didn't have ADHD, and he was being disrespectful to REAL people with ADHD who needed everything made easier for them?

Anyway I want to rewrite that to have it where Carrie, suspicious that he's faking, has him tested, and the test results come back BEFORE he comes clean but are looked at AFTER, and Carrie is forced to eat her words of reprimand about how Zack just needs to "buckle down and work hard instead of taking the easy way out".

Also

Zack: I don't have ADHD

Bob: Are you sure? Because you sure act like you do

[magnusmodig]

ovo whispers menacingly abt his grandstanding .

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 60

Chapter; Highlights

"The power," Fenrys said quietly to him, gripping the gore-slick wall. "It was the one thing Connall and I shared."

"I know," Rowan said. He shouldn't have pushed. "I'm sorry."

Fenrys just nodded. "I haven't been able to stomach it since then. I-I'm not even certain I can use it again," he said, and repeated, "I'm sorry."

Rowan clapped him on the shoulder.

Another thing he'd make Maeve pay for. "You might not have even found him, anyway."

Fenrys's jaw tightened. "He could be anywhere."

"He could be dead," murmured Princess Hasar.

"Or injured," Chaol cut in, wheeling to the wall's edge to survey the battlefield below and distant dam beyond it.

Aelin, a few feet away, gazed toward it as well, her blood-soaked hair ripping free of its braid in the harsh wind. Flowing toward those mountains, the destruction that would soon be unleashed.

She said nothing. Had done nothing since Nesyn and Sartaq brought the news. Her exact sort of nightmare, he realized, to be unable to help, to be forced to watch while others suffered. No words could comfort her, no words could fix this. Stop this.

"I could try to track him," Gavriel offered.

Rowan shook off his creeping dread. "I'll fly out, try to pinpoint him, and signal back to YOU—"

"Don't bother," said Princess Hasar, and Rowan was about to snarl his retort when she pointed to the battlefield. "She's already ahead of you."

Rowan whirled, the others following suit.

"No," Fenrys breathed.

There, galloping across the plain on a familiar black horse, was Elide.

"Farasha," Chaol murmured.

"She'll be killed," said Gavriel, tensing as if he might jump off the battlements and chase after her. "She'll be—"

Farasha leaped over fallen bodies, weaving between the injured and dead, Elide twisting this way and that in the saddle. And from the distance, Rowan could make out her mouth moving, shouting one word, one name, over and over. Lorcan.

"If any of you go down there," Hasar warned, "you'll be killed, too."

It went against every instinct, against the centuries of training and fighting he'd done with Lorcan, but the princess was right. To lose one life was better than several. Especially when he would need his cadre so badly during the rest of this war.

Lorcan would agree had taught Rowan to make those sorts of hard calls.

Still Aelin remained silent, as if she'd descended deep within herself, and gazed at the battlefield.

At the small rider and the mighty horse racing across it.

Farasha was a tempest beneath her, but the mare did not seek to unseat Elide as they thundered across the body-strewn plain.

"Lorcan!"

Her shout was swallowed by the wind, by the screams of fleeing soldiers and people, by the shriek of the ruks above. "Lorcan!"

Farasha leaped over them, cutting sharp turns as Elide pivoted to look and look and look.

Darghan horses and riders ran past. Some to the keep, some to the distant forest along the horizon. Farasha wove between them, biting at those in her path.

"Lorcan!" How small her cry sounded, how feeble.

Still the dam held.

I will always find you.

And her words, her stupid, hateful words to him ... Had she done this? Brought this upon him? Asked some god to do this?

Her words had all melted away the moment she'd realized he was not on the battlements.

The past few months had melted away entirely.

"Lorcan!"

Unfaltering, Farasha kept moving, her black mane streaming in the wind.

The dam had to hold. It would hold. Until she brought him back to the keep.

So Elide did not stop, did not look toward the doom that lurked, waiting to be unleashed.

She rode, and rode, and rode.

Atop the battlement, Chaol didn't know what to watch: the dam, the people fleeing its oncoming destruction, or the young Lady of Perranth, racing across the battlefield atop his horse.

A warm hand settled on his shoulder, and he knew it was Yrene without turning. "I just heard about the dam. I'd sent Elide to see if you were ..." His wife's words trailed off as she beheld the lone rider charging away from the masses thundering for the keep.

"Silba save her," Yrene whispered.

"Lorcan's down there," was all Chaol said by way of explanation.

The Fae males were taut as bowstrings while the young woman crossed the battlefield bit by bit. The odds of her finding Lorcan, let alone before the dam burst ...

Still Elide kept riding. Racing against death itself.

Princess Hasar said quietly, "The girl is a fool. The bravest I've ever seen, but a fool nonetheless."

Aelin said nothing, her eyes distant. Like she'd retreated into herself at the realization that this sliver of hope was about to be washed away. Her friends with it.

"Hellas guards Lorcan," Fenrys murmured.

"And Anneith, his consort, watches over Elide. Perhaps they will find each other."

"Hellas's horse," Chaol said. They turned toward him, dragging their eyes from the field.

Chaol shook his head and gestured to the field, to the black mare and her rider. "I call Farasha Hellas's horse. I've done so from the moment I met her."

As if meeting that horse, bringing her here, was not as much for him as it was for this. For this desperate race across an endless battlefield.

Yrene clasped his hand, like she understood, too.

Silence fell along their section of the battlement. There were no words left to say.

"Lorcan!"

Elide's voice broke on the cry. She'd lost count of how many times she'd shouted it now.

No sign of him.

She aimed for the lake. Closer to the dam. He would have chosen the lake for its defensive advantages. He had to be out here. Had to be somewhere. Alive-hurt, but alive.

She knew it.

The lake was a gray sprawl to her left, a mockery of the hell to be unleashed at any moment.

"Lorcan!"

They'd reached the heart of the battlefield, and Elide slowed Farasha enough to stand in the stirrups, biting down on the agony in her ankle. She had never felt so small, so inconsequential. A speck of nothing in this doomed sea.

Nothing. Elide halted Farasha. Gavriel had said he'd last seen him right here. Had he plunged behind their ally's lines and moved on from there?

He might have walked off this field, she realized. Might currently be back at the keep, or in Oakwald, and she would have ridden here for nothing-

"Lorcan!" She screamed it, so loud it was a wonder her throat didn't bleed. "Lorcan!"

The dam remained intact. Which of her breaths would be her last?

"LORCAN!"

A pained groan answered from behind. Elide twisted in the saddle and scanned the path of Valg dead behind her.

A broad, tanned hand rose from beneath a thick pile of them, and fought for purchase on a soldier's breastplate. Not twenty feet away.

A sob cracked from her, and Farasha cantered toward that straining, bloodied hand. The horse skidded to a halt, gore flying from her hooves. Elide threw herself from the saddle before scrambling toward him.

Armor and blades sliced into her, Lorcan met her halfway, that hand becoming an arm, then two-pushing off the bodies piled atop him. Elide reached him just as he'd managed to dislodge a soldier sprawled over him.

Elide took one look at the injury to Lorcan's middle and tried not to fall to her knees. His blood leaked everywhere, the wound not closed—not in the way that Fae should be able to heal themselves. The injury that had felled him would have been catastrophic, if it had taken all his power to heal him this little.

But she did not say that. Did not say anything other than,

"The dam is about to break."

Black blood splattered Lorcan's ashen face, his dark eyes fogged with pain. Elide braced her feet, swallowing her scream of pain, and gripped him under the shoulders. "We need to get you out of here."

His breathing was a wet rasp as she tried to lift him. He might as well have been a boulder, might as well have been as immovable as the keep itself.

"Lorcan," she begged, voice breaking. "We have to get you out of here."

His legs shifted, drawing an agonized groan. She had never heard him so much as whimper. Had never seen him unable to rise.

"Get up," she said. "Get up."

Lorcan's hands gripped her waist, and Elide couldn't stop her cry of pain at the weight he placed on her, the bones in her foot and ankle grinding together. His legs not even kneeling beneath him, he paused.

"Do it," she begged him. "Get up."

But his dark eyes shifted to the horse. Farasha approached, steps unsteady over the corpses. She did not so much as flinch as Lorcan grasped the bottom straps of the saddle, his other hand on Elide's shoulder, and moved his legs under him again.

As he began to rise, Elide beheld the wound slicing up the left side of his back.

Oh gods. Oh gods.

Elide ducked further under him, until his arm was slung across her shoulders. Thighs burning, ankle shrieking, Elide pushed up. Lorcan pulled at the same time, Farasha holding steady. He groaned again, his body teetering—

"Don't stop," Elide hissed. "Don't you dare stop."

His breath came in shallow gasps, but Lorcan got his feet under him, inch by inch. Slipping his arm from Elide's shoulder, he lurched to grip the saddle. To cling to it.

He panted and panted, fresh blood sliding from his back, too.

This ride would be agony. But they had no choice. None at all.

"Now up." She didn't let him hear her terror and despair. "Get into that saddle."

He leaned his brow against Farasha's dark side. Swaying enough that Elide wrapped a careful arm around his waist.

"You didn't rutting die," she snapped. "And you're not dead yet. We're not dead yet. So get in that saddle."

When Lorcan did nothing other than breathe and breathe and breathe, Elide spoke again.

"I promised to always find you. I promised you, and you promised me. I came for you because of it; I am here because of it. I am here for you, do you understand? And if we don't get onto that horse now, we won't stand a chance against that dam. We will die."

Now would be the true test: that mighty push upward, the swinging of his leg over Farasha's body, to the other side of the saddle. Elide positioned herself at his back, so careful of the terrible slash down his body. Her feet sank ankle-deep into freezing mud. She didn't dare look toward the dam. Not yet.

"Get up." Her command barked over the panicked cries of the fleeing soldiers. "Get in that saddle now." Lorcan didn't move, his body trembling. Elide screamed, "Get up now!" And shoved him upward.

Lorcan let out a bellow that rang in her ears. The saddle groaned at his weight, and blood gushed from his wounds, but then he was rising into the air, toward the horse's back.

Elide threw her weight into him, and something cracked in her ankle, so violently that pain burst through her, blinding and breathless. She stumbled, losing her grip. But Lorcan was up, his leg over the other side of the horse. He slouched over it, an arm cradling his abdomen, dark hair hanging low enough to brush Farasha's back.

Clenching her jaw against the pain in her ankle, Elide straightened, and eyed the distance.

A long, bloodied arm dropped into her line of sight. An offer up.

She ignored it. She'd gotten him into the saddle. She wasn't about to send him flying off it again.

Elide backed a step, limping.

Not allowing herself to register the pain, Elide ran the few steps to Farasha and leaped.

Lorcan's hand gripped the back of her jacket, the breath going from her as her stomach hit the unforgiving lip of the saddle, and Elide clawed for purchase.

The strength in Lorcan's arm didn't waver as he pulled her almost across his lap. As he grunted in pain while she righted herself.

But she made it. Got her legs on either side of the horse, and took up the reins. Lorcan looped his arm around her waist, his brutalized body a solid mass at her back.

Elide at last dared to look at the dam. A ruk soared from it, frantically waving a golden banner.

Soon. It would break soon.

Elide gathered Farasha's reins. "To the keep, friend," she said, digging her heels into the horse's side. "Faster than the wind."

Farasha obeyed. Elide rocked back into Lorcan as the mare launched into a gallop, earning another groan of pain. But he remained in the saddle, despite the pounding steps that drew agonized breaths from him.

"Faster, Farasha!" Elide called to the horse as she steered her toward the keep, the mountain it had been built into.

Nothing had ever seemed so distant.

Far enough that she could not see if the keep's lower gate was still open. If anyone held it, waited for them.

Hold the gate.

Hold the gate.

Every thunderous beat of Farasha's hooves, over the corpses of the fallen, echoed Elide's silent prayer as they raced across the endless plain.

Hold the gate.