#i do care about the first NOW but only because gaia is my dearest & she & ryne deserve to be happy

[devotedlystrangewizard]

character hyperfixations suck actually because theyre the only way i can be invested in media but also they will have me going "hey where are they" "i wonder how theyre doing rn" right up until either the character or my interest dies

[autumnslance]

((Shadowbringers 5.3-5.4. I wanted to have this done by the 15th of January but didn’t quite manage it because these two idiots are wordy as heck, and I initially started in the wrong place and POV. I wrote roughly 8000 words total and only ended up using half of them. There are letters and pining and admitting things happening here.

Below the cut as usual for those who prefer Tumblr to Ao3, but the formatting may work better on that site.))

Aeryn stepped through the mirror and into the familiar space of the Ocular, taking a moment to reorient herself after the rush of journeying between worlds. Once the vertigo had passed she left the Tower, the Crystarium guards greeting her as she crossed the Exedra. It took some questioning before she was finally pointed to where Ryne was currently; training with Captain Lyna just outside the city gates.

She simply watched for a time as Lyna tried to keep her distance while Ryne tried to close in. Aeryn did not announce herself, simply noting how Ryne’s bladework had improved, at least one new trick learned since the last time Aeryn had watched her fight.

“That is enough for now,” Lyna said as they reached a breakpoint in their dance. “And the Warrior of Darkness has waited long enough,” she continued with a wry smile in Aeryn’s direction.

Ryne started, then turned with a grin, hurrying over to give Aeryn a hug. “It’s good to see you! Oh sorry, I’m all sweaty…”

Aeryn laughed, brushing damp strands of hair from Ryne’s reddened face. It was still winter in Eorzea, but in Norvrandt spring was on the horizon and the morning was warm. “Not to worry. Hope you don’t mind the interruption.”

Lyna waved them off. “Go on; we can catch up later.”

Aeryn nodded, knowing the captain wanted word of her grandfather, and G’raha had given Aeryn a small package to deliver, but that would wait until Lyna was off duty and had readied herself. There was an order to such things with the stoic woman.

Instead, Aeryn turned back to Ryne and smiled. Had she gotten taller? “I have a question, if you’ll indulge me.”

“Of course!” Ryne answered as they walked across the bridge into the city. “What is it you need?”

“I have a note from Thancred; he and Urianger are currently on a mission, but he left me instructions for tod--well. The day it is back on the Source.”

“I see. What are the instructions?”

“I’m to ask you about the black willow box he kept in his room here.”

Ryne paused, a little sharp breath escaping. “Ryne?” Aeryn asked.

“Sorry! It’s just I was under strict instruction never to open the box, though I have the key now, of course; I still didn’t dare. It’s where he kept,” she hesitated.

“Kept what?”

“I’ll show you; it’s a good thing--I think--that he wants you to see. Come on!” Ryne dashed toward her apartment as if she hadn’t just completed a long practice session with the captain of the guard. Aeryn picked up her own pace to follow along after.

It did not take long for them to reach the apartment Ryne used to share with Thancred. As the girl opened the door, Aeryn realized it was the first time she had returned to these rooms since the Scions’ departure from the First. It was much as she remembered, though lacking Thancred’s continued presence. Evidence of Gaia’s frequent visits were visible instead, from lipstick-stained coffee mugs at the sink to dark ribbons left on an end table to a book that did not seem to be to Ryne’s taste on a sofa cushion.

Ryne paused in front of the door that had led to Thancred’s small room. “I haven’t been in here since,” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Gaia and Taynor sorted most of it, actually, so only a few personal things remain. I should probably move to a smaller suite to let someone else use the space…”

“Maybe you need a roommate,” Aeryn suggested. “Perhaps Gaia could stay with you.”

Ryne reddened. “We’ve considered it, but I’m just…” She gave a helpless little laugh as she shrugged, looking up at Aeryn apologetically. “I’m just not quite ready, I think. It’s silly, but there’s a part of me that keeps hoping they’ll find a way--a safe way--to return. Even just for a little while.”

Aeryn squeezed Ryne’s shoulder. “It’s not silly,” she said quietly. “And I keep hoping that, too. Fairly certain Y’shtola has it at the top of her projects list.”

Ryne laughed, truly this time. “She would!” She looked at the door again. “The box should be on the shelf above the writing desk,” she offered Aeryn a small key. “I’ll let you see for yourself.”

Aeryn nodded, taking the little key and entering the room.

It was familiar, yet unfamiliar. Always small, it had kept from being cramped mainly by virtue of Thancred’s own minimalist tendencies with his added reluctance of accumulating things on the First that he would have to leave behind in the end. Even so, the room felt barren, many necessities and items missing, given away to be used by others in need among the Crystarium’s residents; naught went to waste while still usable.

The bed was neatly made; her eyes lingered for a moment, recalling a handful of pleasant times curled up together in it. They had often met in her own chambers for privacy, especially when feeling the need for more than simple closeness. There was a bench under the shuttered window; he used to clean his gunblade there, storing materials and parts in a chest beneath the bench. Nothing remained but the seat.

The writing desk was really a tall square table, a stool for the chair, in a corner of the room. Two simple shelves hung on the wall above it, some of Thancred’s personal effects that remained neatly placed upon them. The black willow box was a simple but lovely piece of old Nabaath make. It was familiar only in that it was a part of the room, always upon the shelf above the desk, a background decoration.

She had to stretch a little to pull the small box down. She unlocked it, pondering what it could contain for one last moment before opening the lid to find out.

Neatly folded pages, Thancred’s familiar handwriting covering them, five different bundles marked by Vrandtic dates in Eorzean lettering. The earliest one was dated five--no, six years ago now, in the midst of Thancred’s first year in this world, just after the Vrandtic new year. The second bundle was dated a year later. Then the third, then a fourth. The final bundle broke the date pattern, written...She shivered. The dates would have been the time after they assaulted Mt Gulg and before seeking Emet-Selch and the Exarch in the Tempest, when she had lain in a Light-induced fever for days in between.

All of the letters, long and detailed, were addressed to her.

Aeryn carried the box to the window and opened the shutters, letting in the natural light of day. She sat at the bench, picked up the first letter, and began to read, brows already rising at the first line.

My Dear Aeryn,

It’s been roughly half a year, to me, since I arrived in this world. We search for a means to send me back, but given the dangers, it’s difficult to say if we shall ever be successful. I hold onto hope, given we have made the impossible happen more than once—particularly when you are involved.

I know so much less time is passing for you, even as time is difficult to track beneath the eternal Light, but the people still mark the hours and days as best they can--perhaps better than we do in the Source, reliant as we are upon the sun and stars. So as the calendar year turns to a new page, I find myself confronted by reminders of you at every turn, my own mind noting the dates, as if counting down to your nameday in truth.

Violas grown in the Hortorium call to mind your favored hair decoration and your scents carried with it. The heather meadows and clear mountain springs of Il Mheg make me think of the taste of your magic. Treasure hunters in Mord Souq unearth duelist rapiers reminiscent of your combat style. The grey waters of a lake, shifting in color and tone under the burning sky, remind me of your eyes and ever-shifting moods.

I think of our new situation, how fragile it all still seems, our duties as Scions, the distance between Ala Mhigo and Doma keeping us apart more often than I liked. Especially after already having denied my own interests for far longer than I care to admit.

I fear now, not knowing when I may return to your side--in whatever capacity--that I am forgetting important things, and I very much do not want to. So indulge me as I list your various qualities that I admire, to remind myself why I allowed myself to maintain my impossible infatuation for so long, even as you became one of my dearest friends...

Aeryn eyes widened as she turned to the next page, then quickly checked the several pages following; Thancred had indulged his bardic habits, writing in verse and engaging in wordplay. Even the most innocent descriptions and memories of moments together, professional and extremely personal, were laden with puns and innuendo--not entirely unexpected from him.

She was mostly through the verses, trying to parse every dedicated line, when a knock at the door startled her.

“Aeryn?” Gaia called. “Everything all right?”

She cleared her throat. “Fine; I’ve quite a bit of reading to do, though; I may need some water.”

The door opened, Gaia appearing with a tray already in hand. “Ryne thought you might--are you all right? You’re redder than I have ever seen, and that’s saying something.”

Aeryn pressed a hand to her warm cheeks. “I’m fine. Just...wasn’t expecting some of what I found so far.”

“Is that good or bad?” The girl asked, setting the tray on the nearby side table in easy reach. There was a small tea service and also ice water, bless them. 

“It’s...Better than good,” Aeryn replied. “I may be awhile, though.”

Gaia shrugged in her nonchalant, pretending-not-to-care way. “Doesn't matter to me, but I was going to drag Ryne out for a while, just so you know. You’ll be fine here by yourself--won’t you?” A little genuine care came through in the last two words, despite her attempts to seem otherwise.

Aeryn nodded.

“All right. Enjoy your reading, and we’ll see you later.” Gaia gave a little wave before leaving, quietly closing the door behind her.

Aeryn cleared her throat again, sipping the cup of minty green tea--bless those girls again--and set the first letter aside for now. She would get back to that later; alone in her own room, where she could bury her face in a pillow and shriek like a schoolgirl when overwhelmed by his words, godsdamn him. For now, the second bundle had her curious.

My Dearest Aeryn,

I almost let the date slip by, I am ashamed to say. So much has happened in recent weeks...

She read through two pages of his recounting Minfilia’s story and the reincarnations that had followed, offering a small hope to Norvrandt; of Urianger and Y’shtola’s arrival, his anger at the spell’s failure and yet relief at seeing Urianger again; and their shift in focus upon learning of the Eighth Umbral Calamity.

...Urianger’s vision of the Calamity, of our deaths, is a sobering thought. The idea of you fallen especially freezes my blood. I cannot bear the thought.

So I redoubled my efforts to rescue the girl bearing Minfilia’s name and appearance. She sleeps now on a cot in this Mord town as I write. She can’t be more than twelve or thirteen summers; a frail little thing with no skills aside from reading books thicker than she is, and asking innumerable questions. They taught her nothing, simply locked her in a windowless cell under the waterline. For at least ten years, that is all the child’s known. If the fate Urianger saw for us makes my blood freeze, her situation makes it boil again. Should I chance to meet Eulmore’s General--the man responsible for her “care”--I will let him know exactly what I think.

Tomorrow Minfilia and I shall attempt to reach Nabaath Areng, the site of the Flood’s halting; the girl says she must go there, as if pulled. I have a hope I dare not voice yet. The Blessing of Light does work in such interesting ways.

But that is on the morrow; tonight, though a day late, I wished to write to you as I did last year. With the date in mind you have also been in my thoughts--when I’ve had a moment to think, at least--and I find myself recalling more and more often the little things. Simple things. Things I fear I may forget, having been here for years now, years without the way you tilt your head when you have a question. It initially annoyed me actually, you were so quiet but now, gods I would give much to be in your silence again, to see that quizzical look. Anything to see the little furrow between your brows when you’re thinking. When you prop your chin on your hands as you stare out a window, tea forgotten in your hand. How you unconsciously wriggle and make faces as you read, reacting to the pages, lips silently moving as you devour each word...

“Oh I do not,” Aeryn muttered--realizing in the same moment that she was doing that now. She sipped her tea and kept reading, noting how he wrote, as much as what; the moments where he had scratched out words, or underlined others. The splots where the pen had sat on the page a moment longer than normal as he thought of what he wanted to admit to. The way the letters slanted in places where he was eager. There was no poetry this time, fewer puns and word play. He had written when tired and possibly injured, given the shakiness of some lettering.

There were places where he couldn’t remember clearly--what perfume had she worn on the day of a particular memory? Was she wearing her red coat, or a blue dress in another? He wasn’t certain.

The letter wrapped up several pages later.

...I must get some sleep, given the long trek across the Amber Hills awaiting. I don’t know what will happen when we arrive, but whatever it is, I’ll keep the girl safe. Taking care of her is the only thing I can do, lacking the skills of the Exarch and our colleagues. Particularly now that we have abandoned the idea of going home--yet. I still don’t know how I feel about that, having struggled to find a way back for so long now, but there must be a home to return to. To save ourselves, we must save this realm. Forgive me; as much as I yearn to see you again, I wish for you to live far more. Despite everything, I still remain

Yours, Thancred.

Aeryn drew in a sharp breath; the previous letter’s signature had been much simpler, after all the floweriness of the verses. This simpler, newsy, reminiscent letter had such a different feel to it, so much changing for him in that year. Her eyes kept drifting to that closing.

It took a few moments before she was able to refold that bundle and open the next.

His next year in the First; this one another detailed description of events he survived, and quite a lot about Ryne, still only known as Minfilia at the time.

...I actually began this letter yesterday, as we rested in a small inn at the edge of the Greatwood. I thought of seeking out Y’shtola, but am unfamiliar with those dark and twisting paths, and was low on ammunition. Minfilia was exhausted, unable to fight or imbue cartridges, and I won’t risk her more than our constant travels already do.

It was she who reminded me that I had been writing, before she made me take my rest as well. I’ve never told her about these letters, but she’s a bright girl and I have told her of you. Sometimes it’s simply because she is curious about you, and the hope that you’ll come here and save yourself, as well as the rest of us. Many times though I don’t mean to say anything, but the stories simply come, like a slumbering spring awoken by new rains, bubbling up and overflowing the riverbanks.

It’s something about her, I suppose, that makes me remember, and so I must speak before the memories fade back into the dustier corridors of my mind. Perhaps an effect of her unique Blessing? Or perhaps simply her childish curiosity drawing it out of me.

There’s a selfish part of me that wants you to meet her. It would mean that you’re here, for one, but also I think you two would get along. She’s a good girl--with her moments of petulance and stubbornness, as many youths are wont, but she’s come such a long way already, has learned so quickly.

I fear influencing her. The choice she must make is so important, and it must be hers.  You would be a much better role model; you inspire others to do what’s best simply by your presence. I’ve felt the lack of you more keenly this last year than ever before...

Aeryn read through, noting he wrote it more like a conversation she had yet to answer. Memories of their adventures and companionship were woven through the words more naturally as he spoke to her. She smiled as he spent a good chunk of the letter not even realizing how he had gushed about Ryne and all she had learned and how she had grown in that first year they spent together, as if he were trying to ensure Aeryn would love the child as much as he so obviously did--even if the foolish man hadn’t been able to tell the girl so until it had almost been too late.

But then, that was Thancred; locking his thoughts and feelings behind stoicism, snark, and literally in a box on a shelf.

She traced her nail along the letters of his name--again signed “Yours”--before tucking that bundle away and picking up the fourth.

By this time the twins were somewhere in Norvrandt, though Thancred had no opportunity to see them as Eulmore’s hunters were ever close. He wrote to Aeryn of his frustration with how many Scions had come to the First but she was still so far away and still in so much danger, alongside the rest of the Source and this shard itself. If she couldn’t come to Norvrandt to break the Light’s hold over the realm then the girl would have to make her choice sooner rather than later--and perhaps face the same fate as all of her predecessors.

He admitted that he feared both of those outcomes. He seemed to have begun to cross out that line, but had stopped himself.

...A nasty part of me believes you will never receive these nameday letters. That these are simply my way of remembering yet another important woman in my life I will never see again. I try not to dwell on such thoughts, try to keep busy, but you know me. Perhaps better than anyone since our Minfilia. How I wish I could speak with you again; patrolling through Mor Dhona, lunch at Rowena’s cafe, stargazing on the roofs of Ala Mhigo, reading in the Waking Sands’ dusty library. Simply holding you until we fall asleep, those few, rare moments we had. You always made me say more than I ever meant to; you’ve a way of drawing me out despite myself—and failing that, of simply being there as a brilliant, warm presence.

There are places here I want to show you, things I want to share. Yet I fear your coming, what it will mean. What changes I’ve experienced. What we had was...comfortable, and felt right, after so long, and yet it was still so new and fragile. I used to be confident in my ability to be delicate, but these last few years with this girl have made me feel boorish and clumsy. And I know I have changed, not just because of her, but everything in this hard world. Will you recognize me when we meet? Will you still want me, when you were already so uncertain before?

I suppose I shan’t know until you’re here, or we find a way home. Given the Exarch’s record, the former seems more likely. And it still worries me, much as I know it’s the better course to preserve all we hold dear...

Aeryn stared out the window for a long moment; she had known of his doubts, his fears; when she had arrived and finally found him again, it had been difficult. Yet despite everything, they had gotten past it.

She eyed the final bundle, slimmer than the rest, those dates seeming so heavy though she had no conscious recollection of them, given her state at the time. Having finished the tea, she poured a glass of water and began to read.

Aeryn,

Ryne assures us you will still be Aeryn when you wake; her wards hold for now. I pray long enough to find a cure for what those bastards did to you. What we did to you, unknowing. Will you be pleased to know I have not struck Urianger for his part? I was too tired and injured as we returned, and occupied with carrying you besides. Now I simply am too weary in heart and mind to conjure that initial anger, and he has had time to explain how the Exarch coerced him into his confidence.

I am still not happy about it.

For five years I waited to see you again, thought about you through many days and most nights--such as they are, here. It’s funny what one can become accustomed to in time. Finally seeing you again was a jolt to every one of my senses as the missing you had long since become more real to me, much as I longed for your presence.

And as I feared, you hesitated. I don’t blame you; I know this place changed me. What we had back home was still so new, despite the prior years we had known each other. So I tried to be content to merely be in your company once more. We had rebuilt our friendship once, we could do it again. I had been a fool to think I deserved more.

Then you sought me out in Rak’tika. Do I need to tell you how you intoxicated me that day? I hope I was a comfort, both in words and in the release you needed. The distance still felt too great, but this much, at least, I could give. I thought it would be enough, to simply be what you needed in the moment.

I know now that I was once again fooling myself.

These last few months traveling and fighting and just being together have been a strange mix of stress and relief; our mission had been dangerous and difficult in so many ways, and yet working together, it was hard not to get caught up in the optimism, in the feeling that things would turn out, that we would find a way.

And you were here; your quizzical headtilts, your faces when you read, the white flowers in your hair. Your silences, your laughter, your strength in combat and your helping with every common chore in the vicinity. I thought I could simply be happy to bask in your steady light.

But now, seeing it tear you apart, it is not enough; it never was, and never will be. I can live with it, should that be your wish. My wish, however, is to continue what we had once begun. To hold you close not only occasionally but always.

Aeryn felt a hard lump in her throat; there was a decent space between the lines, the ink thick where he had hesitated, the initial letters shaky. Still he had written them:

I am in love with you, Aeryn.

It’s taken me time to collect myself after rereading what I just wrote and fighting the urge to burn the whole page. A part of me fears that you will scoff, though the greater part of me knows--hopes--better of you.

And the gods know you deserve better than me, but if you’ll have me, I certainly won’t complain.

I know after everything with Ryne I ought to say it to you aloud. That it may already be too late to do so. I pray that isn’t the case. I pray I find the courage and the words both to say what you deserve to hear. Even should you never reciprocate; if that should be the case, you shall never hear another whisper from me on the matter.

But I hold out a small hope, that you will, that you do. That we will have the chance to discuss the matter further. That you survive.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I only know I’ll be at your side until the end; there’s nowhere else I can be.

Ryne is calling; hold on just a little while longer, darling.

Yours always, Thancred.

She covered her face with her hands, emotions and memories flooding over her. There were words before finally confronting Emet-Selch in his memory of Amaurot. More than words on returning to the Crystarium, bodies twined together in relief and comfort.

Then she had returned to the Source to report their success. She came back to the First as quickly as she could, though; not only was there still much work to do, but he was here, and things were...not exactly different, but not quite the same, either.

As she reread the last page, she noticed a swiftly written addendum on the back. She turned it over.

I carried these letters all the way to the Tempest, thinking if I failed to say anything I might at least give them to you--they are yours, after all. But of course no time seemed right, and with a screwing of my courage (and pointed prodding from Urianger), at the last I was able to say what I wished. Miraculously, you said it too.

And now here we are, you peacefully asleep while the night sky wheels overhead and I still hear the celebrations outside despite the ungodly hour. I’ll rejoin you in a moment, but I needed some time to attempt to process the last few days. What happened in the Tempest. The fact you’re alive, and healthy, and claim to love me in return.

I’m not entirely certain why, but I won’t complain, either.

Rereading these letters, I’m not sure I’m quite ready to hand them over yet. They’ll return to their box for now, and perhaps in a few days I’ll be ready to show you.

Aeryn laughed lightly; of course he had hesitated to share them. The letters showed all his vulnerabilities behind the serious, confident facade he had developed. And with everything in the Empty, and then Elidibus, it was no wonder the letters had fallen to the wayside.

Until her actual nameday on the Source had come around, his note delivered with her breakfast by Tataru per Thancred’s instructions while he was on his latest reconnaissance. It wasn’t as if he could have brought the letters with him, after all--nor given them to her in front of the rest of the Scions in the Ocular, nevermind how public their relationship was now.

She rubbed her face--she had cried more than a few times while reading--and replaced the letters in the box. She locked it, and pocketed the key.

The girls were still out so it was no trouble to take the tea service to the sink and clean it, along with the other dishes, giving her time and activity to settle. She finished by washing her own face, removing some evidence of her emotion.

Since the first year she had joined the Scions, they had given each other gifts; she had discovered his nameday from Minfilia, gifting him the orchestrion roll of a song she knew he liked from a favorite minstrel. Her own first nameday as a Scion had been missed due to Lahabrea and Baelsar’s schemes, but Thancred was certain to make up for it. Sometimes they were late, or even early, but they always managed a little something, even as friends.

Aeryn took the box with her as she left Ryne’s apartment. She still had a few people to see while here on the First--starting with Lyna and the messages from G’raha--but then she would retire to her own suite in the Pendants and do a bit of rereading.

And maybe a bit more once she returned home, too; after all, if she timed it right, it would still be her nameday, and the best time to reread her present.

[thewildeleven]

The Titan.

"I do not know why you bother to name them, if only to place heavier burdens upon your heart," the Titan said. He was sitting on his throne in the Great Hall of Olympus, said to be the highest peak in all of Greece. His wife sat beside him, her own seat carrying equal grandeur.

Rhea learned to keep her eyes down in the Titan's presence. She avoided his gaze, then feigned endearment by firmly leaning on his shoulder as she spoke. Her tresses adorned his bare chest, the golden curls complimenting his sculpted muscles.

"My dearest," Rhea said, her voice almost a whisper, "You are my Capitol. I know that you mean to preserve us. Forgive me when I show weakness, they remain flesh of my flesh, bone of my bones."

"I do allow you this folly," the Titan said. "And yet, is it not better comfort to leave them forgotten and unnamed? Why must you remember them so?"

In her mind, Rhea held each and every one of them close. Demeter with locks like endless wheat-fields. Hestia, of the burning eyes. The even-muscled Hera, whom she imagined must grow with a strength rivaling the strongest mortal men. Hades, the timid. Poseidon, the proud. She had visions of them, of what they could be; each one a worthy successor to the Titan's throne.

And yet Cronus would not allow any of his offspring to usurp him, so he ate all of them alive as soon as they were torn from Rhea's womb.

"No, you are right," she lied. "In my mind they must fade like mortal life. Like threads spun shortest by Fate. I must not care for them."

"Good," said the Titan as he stood and faced his wife. "Look: the prophecy, salt which my father has poured over my wounds with, had me perpetually undone. My dear Rhea, in time you will bear our sixth child, and whatever you must name the creature, name it quick, for after I devour him I shall place my desires under deep slumber.

"You understand that I desire to rule only with might and be just." he added. "I did not ask for these atrocities. I will not allow my immortal conscience to plague me any longer."

Rhea looked straight into his eyes, and with a piercing gaze asked: "Why not just kill me?"

"What did you say?"

Rhea avoided his eyes once more and brought her head down. "Nothing. Forgive my tongue if it went out of turn."

Like most things Cronus offered her in the past decade, the slap on her face came as an unwelcome surprise. She could tell that his husband restrained from giving the hit its full strength, yet it brought with it the ringing of a thousand thunders; it heralded a clouding in her mind, the rumble of a great storm brewing.

The Titan took his wife's face and forced her to face him, and for the first time since the devouring of Poseidon, she saw the Monster that the prophecy created. He regarded her like she was some animal. The judging, wide eyes. The perfect set of teeth revealed by the smug smile.

"Rhea, my dear Rhea," the Monster said. "I am doing this for us, I am sure you know. And I promise… I will stop once the sixth child has been taken. Do you understand?"

Rhea's lips, even backed by the body of an invincible titaness, were too frightened to speak.

"Do you understand?!" the monster growled.

"Yes, my love…" 

"Soon, this will be all over with, and both of us will live in eternal rule." He kissed her, his tongue tasting her tears. Rhea closed her eyes as the Titan undressed her.

***

Some months later, Rhea felt a familiar stirring within her belly. It brought a concoction of delight and dread upon her being.

She planned to hide the pregnancy for as long as possible, but she knew that the Titan would notice it eventually. She could have had a lot of help, yet decided against asking aid from Uranus, Gaia, or any other being whom she thought might have an interest in taking Olympus' throne for themselves. Her plan was to consult with the creatures of the Earth, and her eyes caught wonders in the heart of the forest nymph Adamanthea.

As the stirrings became more frequent, Rhea decided to appear in the nymph's grove at once. Not as the supreme being that she was, but as a mother seeking refuge for her unborn child.

"Surely all the Earth has heard of Cronus' atrocities," Rhea said.

"Bah!" the leaf-haired nymph replied, seemingly unfazed by the sudden appearance of the woman in front of her. "If it were up to me I would put Cronus' neck on a noose that will never break. I will hang him from the Great Tree to watch his life draining away, never quite dying but in enough pain to regret his immortality. I would ask for the vultures to feast on his carcass while he can still feel! Well," she paused to smile. "You see, vultures do not really eat the flesh of those who are still alive, you know. Heh. They are scavengers, see, and they only go for helpless carcasses. They only eat dead ones, yep. In any case! I think if vultures should make an exception, it should be for Cronus! Because what he does is just disgusting and spells injustice for anyone! Except--"

"Calm down, sweet nymph," Rhea interrupted. "The Titan might hear you."

Adamanthea covered her lips. She widened her eyes and turned her head left and right. "You're right," she whispered. "Wait… who are you again?"

"My name is Rhea. I come to you now not as your sovereign, but as a mother desperate to save her yet unborn child. Will you help me?"

Adamanthea stepped back, her mouth open. "Are you serious? I mean, I DON'T not believe you! You're really Rhea, huh. Who else could appear out of thin air anyway, right? If there's anyone with some serious nature-defying abilities like that, it would be you guys up top. But hey, look at me! I'm a forest nymph! I haven't even learned how to craft a weedwhistle cord yet. I've been a bit negligent in my daily practice. Lazy. Heh. You know… butterflies to chase and petals to collect, and gazelles and fawns and hummingbirds to talk to. In any case! How could I even help?"

"Take more credit for yourself, for we always say that the resourcefulness of the forest nymphs knows no bounds," the titaness replied. "Now listen, Adamanthea. In a few hours I will bring out Zeus, my sixth child, out into this world. I only need some way to hide him until he is strong enough to stand up for himself."

The forest nymph went silent, her eyes blank and lost in thought. After a few moments, she said, "Right. You know what? You have come to the right creature.

"All my life I have listened to the whisperings of the rocks and the winds," the nymph added, "and I imagine the rest of my kin still do, as well. But I fear that they have been rather selective in what they hear. They listen to good tidings and disregard the bad ones… which I think is wrong. I do not like Cronus. Or rather, I don't like what he is doing. Is it too much to listen to what the rain clouds tell the raindrops, which the raindrops in turn tell the leaves? Perhaps. But it has been horrible up there, hasn't it?"

Rhea nodded.

"Your husband is a great ruler, you know. What with bringing all the wealth and liberation and agriculture and stuff. As humble as we are, I cannot figure out why he allows himself to succumb to a monster. I wonder why he allows himself to be a slave to some prophecy."

Rhea smiled. "You share my sentiments all too well, dear nymph."

"Do not worry. Stay until you bear your child, and I will help you hide him," the nymph said.

***

The opulence of the titans' dining hall was deceptive, for no glorious feast of honor was to be held there that night. Cronus, with his supremacy over land, sky, and sea, sensed Rhea had given birth and called for her immediately.

She emerged with the little one wrapped up in a white blanket, a lump about half the length of her arm.

"Why the blanket?" Cronus asked.

"Husband, this one turned out to be so hideous and so deformed! I would not dishonor your sight as to dare you look upon the monster," Rhea replied. "It might be best to end this usurper's life as quickly as you can." She sat beside him.

"I see. And have you named him?"

"I call him Zeus."

"A waste of a good name."

Cronus opened his mouth to swallow the child whole. A small portion of the blanket hung out from the corner of his lips as he began to chew.

Rhea stared at the ceiling as madness started to consume her child. She wanted to pray, but to whom do the gods pray to?

Cracking sounds echoed as the titan's teeth tried to crush bone. He licked his lips, pieces of raw meat clung to his tongue. "Zeus," he said while blood dripped from his mouth, "tastes really different. I do not like his form. He— uhm,"

Cartilage snapped like frail twigs. And in no time at all, the titan finished.

He used his finger to free a piece of flesh trapped between his teeth. "He may not have been a threat," he added.

The Titan licked his lips after what appeared to be a very satisfying meal. "Come, Rhea. Sit beside me."

She did, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"The prophecy says that I will be usurped by my own children," Cronus said. "You've seen my madness. I know that you see me as some kind of monster. I even find it laughable that while I have already exiled Uranus, I still act as if I am a slave to his words."

"I have no words," Rhea replied. "I only trust that as you say, this will be the last time."

"Ah, that. Not so."

Rhea's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"'I shall make my desire slumber,' I said. But love… you are my desire."

As she realized that she was no longer talking to her husband, but the Monster, the titaness pulled away. She looked and there it was: the insane smile and his dead, dark eyes. The Monster was there, clouding his judgment. Feeding on his falsely-perceived and misguided benevolence.

"My love, this is not you," Rhea pleaded. "How can you act as if you are cursed? When no curse should ever enter the House of Cronus!"

"BLAME MY FATHER FOR NOT ACCEPTING DEFEAT!" The halls of Olympus shook as the Monster bellowed. "Not content in ceding their power! Damning me with a prophecy—"

"The prophecy was no fault of theirs! It was the price you had to pay for your ambition!"

"Price?" the Monster laughed. "The 'price' of my ambition? What, the liberation of the lesser creatures from the dark clutches of tyrants? The wealth I have provided from the minerals of the soil; the… the science of organized harvestry that the once-starving mortals now benefit from?!  Tell me, Rhea, is this the ‘price’ I had to pay for wanting mankind to prosper?"

"No���. no, no…" the titaness wiped the tears from her eyes. "You could have accepted your fate gracefully… like an Immortal worthy of his throne."

"You are right, I could have. Yet the fact remains that I have done what I have done, and I must finish it now."

"Finish? Is it not already finished?"

"Dear," he took Rhea by the arm and pulled her closer to him. "You are my lone desire, and you are my weakness. You asked me once, why I should not kill you instead. Well, you made a compelling argument…"

"Let go of me, Cronus," the Titaness said.

The Monster responded by opening his mouth to take a bite off of Rhea's arm. In an instant she was dismembered, and the scream that followed was released for the entire World to hear.

"Without you," Cronus said as he chewed on Rhea's torn limb, "I would never have the urge to bear children again."

He grabbed her neck with one hand, while the other tore through her chest to take her still-beating heart. "Worry not," he said to her, "You will remain alive inside of me, just as your children are. It will be a family reunion of sorts."

Cronus held his wife's heart as he watched life leave her face. Rhea let out a final gasp and closed her eyes, and she was no more.

The Monster then consumed his wife's lifeless body starting with the toes and the feet, moving upward. He knew that she was alive, somehow, just as he knew his six children were alive, for their kin are immortal. But it did not matter; he only needed them contained inside him and he would have accomplished his end.

What he did not know was that Zeus, his sixth child, was alive not inside him, but far away from Olympus. The "child" that Rhea presented that night was not a child at all, but a newborn goat of Adamanthea's offering.

***

In Adamanthea's grove, there was an oak tree from which hung a cradle that was suspended by cords of cotton. The suspension was necessary, because the one who slept within needed to be hidden from the ruler of sky, land, and sea.

Adamanthea approached the cradle and saw the child Zeus asleep. "Hello, little boy," she whispered. "Presently your father longs for you, but not in the way fathers usually long for their children! He wants to eat you!" She poked his nose. "But don't worry. Your mother and I will protect you—"

The nymph's words were cut short by a blood-curdling scream that echoed, unmistakably, from the heights of Olympus. 

The child in the cradle stirred and opened his eyes to stare at the nymph. He did not cry, nor wail, as infants are wont to do. The boy simply stared at the nymph with its cold, piercing eyes.

"Sleep for now, and don't worry. One day, you shall banish your father and rule us all," she said.

A sudden flash lit up the grove, followed by another, and another. The bright knives sliced at the night sky and broke it into a hundred pieces. Soon, the evening was filled by a lightning storm.

Zeus smiled.

It was as if the bolts were giving their Master a warm welcome.

[truthbeetoldmedia]

The 100 5x12 "Damocles Pt 1" Review

Guys…..I don’t even know. This show was my favorite TV show in years, maybe ever until this season (well, I kinda didn’t love Season 4 but that finale was so amazing I was still hooked) but now I don’t even know how the show wants me to feel? Do the writers want us all to stop watching? This season went off the rails after episode 5x05 and I am not a happy camper so be prepared for a salty review.

The good:

“Say hello to my little friend.” Murphy quoting Scarface as he shoots the giant laser gun, only for him to screw it up and almost blow everyone up is grade A John Murphy content.

While I’m on that scene with the laser gun, I just want to say that Dean White has such an eye for cinematography and I loved the way this whole scene was shot. Same with the march through the gorge, this episode did nail directing!

Emori and Murphy exchanging little smiles after he uses the same screw up later to give them cover to escape in the rover. Post apocalyptic Bonnie and Clyde 4ever.

SHAW. Miles Zeke “I will break if they torture you” Shaw. He is a treasure guys, he would rather die by being electrocuted than live knowing he killed hundreds of people or was the reason Raven got tortured. Protect this man. I want him and Raven to spend forever together.

Echo reading Clarke to filth for leaving Bellamy to likely die in the fighting pit because she was angry. This will be extended into the “bad” and “ugly” section.

Monty calmly telling Echo he’s not doing what she wants him to do over the radio.

Abby and Clarke actually having an affectionate second as mom and daughter...even though it was still kinda empty.

Clarke FINALLY waking up and helping her friends...this will also show up in my bad/ugly section.

Indra and Gaia having an actual mother/daughter moment. ”I’m not leaving my daughter” I want them both to survive, they deserve to be happy with each other.

I loved Octavia finally realizing how bad of a leader she’s been, I do not want her to get off the hook that easy. She has made terrible decisions and they lead up to this first 10 minutes of the episode, with her loyal army getting butchered in front of her. Of course the first to die was the little boy she had taught to fight, Ethan being the symbol of Octavia’s “hope” for the future of her people, (I hate the word Wonkru) and all of them mowed down in front of her. But I also hate it took this to get through to her — Thelonious Jaha is so disappointed in her.

“Guess she’s not up for mother of the year.” Raven as she’s taking the shock collar off Madi, TRULY iconic.

BELLAMY BLAKE is consistently the only “good” part of this show for me anymore (aside from Monty, who is almost as absent as his criminally underutilized other half Harper), and this episode we saw Bellamy do what he does best! Protect his sister, save people, put others first; but also he stands up for himself and tells Octavia “This is is all your fault, all these people died because of you.” YES, SON! Let her have it! Don’t hold back! When Octavia says, “Do you want me to die?” And he just responds, “Yes,” we know he didn’t honestly mean that considering how much he tried to keep her alive this episode.

Bellamy’s pep talk to Gaia — “Keep fighting, if not for you then for her” — and him carrying her warmed my heart.

Octavia saying “Wonkru is broken, I broke it” and Indra just flat out saying “Yes you did.”

Clarke reminding Echo that she has blood on her hands. “Don’t think all those people you helped blow up in Mt Weather didn’t count because you were following orders.” I about stood up on my feet and clapped.

Also in this same scene Clarke’s face when Echo tells her Bellamy isn’t dead and he survived her betrayal, girl was SHOOK. And the exchange of “Don’t pretend like you care about Bellamy now” and Clarke interjecting “I ALWAYS cared” — too bad this is the extent of emotion she gets to show for Bellamy in the last two episodes...when in reality she should have been crying buckets of tears.

The last second rescue of Bellamy and Co. in the gorge right when you think Octavia’s “fight is over.” It was great to see the rover back in action Monty and crew saving their friends, I just wish Clarke was there too.

I do think this episode had good moments. BUT hold onto your hats, we are about to dive deep into some salt! And also some plot lines that they seem to be “retconning” for no reason except to give fanservice to a group of people far too late and in the worst way possible...without further ado:

The bad:

Well, there were several little things that I was honestly confused by.

Kane and Vinson...what was that scene for? What did it accomplish? It was so random — what were Vinson's motivations, why did he want Abby to keep being a pill head? I loved the way he went out and the acting between Henry Ian Cusick and Mike Dopud is fabulous but, honestly, it was pointless and had no real impact on the story, like half of the plot this season if I’m being honest.

Why is the Flame and how it interfaces with the commander the most inconsistently written plot this show has ever done? Raven spent half her time in Season 3B reading Becca’s journals and explaining how the Flame works — but now it seems to work any way the writers need it to? In episode 3x12 Monty asks Raven if the minds uploaded to the City of Light (which I’m assuming is a large scale version of the Flame where thousands of “consciousnesses” can be uploaded and exist at once since Becca designed both): “There’s a chance my mom’s still alive?” to which Raven replies, “Depends on your definition of alive.” In 5x12 when Madi so creepily channels “Lexa” it’s indeed not her but a saved version of her mind from before her death, so Madi should be able to theoretically access her memories BUT in no way should Lexa be conscious to what’s going on in the present and “speak through” Madi — If this were the case why didn’t Becca tell the previous commanders who she was? That the flame was tech and not a spirit? Why didn’t the commander during the first Mount Weather troubles tell the next one about how to defeat them or how to help them therefore make peace? Why didn’t they tell Lexa the “threat” that crashed to earth was actually 100 CHILDREN that didn’t want to die or kill they just wanted to survive? IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE GUYS. Jason, if you happen to read this, EXPLAIN.

In the same episode we are told the flame is ALIE 2.0 made to merge with and enhance the brain of the “host” aka commander. She goes on to say the reason commanders didn’t know it was AI was because the program “degraded over time.” SO how pray tell did a 12 year old girl reset the password on this thing when the 15 or however many prior commanders couldn’t? EXPLAIN. How did she channel a commander when from what we’ve been told it’s never been done, or grounders wouldn’t be technology fearing, warring clans? This plot has more holes than a wheel of Swiss cheese.

I’m gonna stop yelling about this, I promise. I just hate this whole plot and the Flame should’ve went up in flames during Praimfaya.

Killing Ethan. So Thelonious Jaha literally dies to save his adopted son, and he is the first casualty in the gorge? Really, writers? Jaha lost his biological son, Wells, grieved him for almost 5 seasons and in turn sacrifices his life to protect his surrogate son the way he couldn’t protect his biological one, and this is how Jaha is rewarded? I really can’t believe.

The general attitude the writers seem to have about Clarke’s emotions and love, etc. Yes, she can miss Lexa, BUT I don’t believe the levels she misses a person that she knew in total for 4 months and hated approximately 3 months and one day, but not still be gutted over losing her best friend of FIFTEEN YEARS, WELLS JAHA. Or her actual father, or Bellamy — her canon post-Wells best friend in the series — whom she thinks she left to DIE? And if she can forgive Lexa’s multiple betrayals so quick she should already have forgiven Bellamy and feel like the worst person, to be honest. This season has treated the character of Clarke Griffin poorly and she deserved better.

On that subject, why is Clarke a side character instead of the lead female character? Why is her storyline like post apocalyptic Mommy Dearest? Why is she yet again isolated from her friends and family? EXPLAIN.

Okay now that I’ve gotten the above off my chest we are gonna dive straight into

The ugly:

Phew! I tell ya what, this season has exhausted me mentally and emotionally and not for good reasons.

Clarke won’t remove the flame from Madi because she “promised her” but she will force a shock collar on her and shock her with the voltage that brings a full grown man to the ground? REALLY, YOU GUYS WENT THERE? Are any of you even parents?

The whole storyline that Madi can see and feel Lexa’s memories is a whole other level of ICK! I didn’t think I’d ever have to deal with on this show. There are so many ways the writers could have not “gone there” with this story: never letting Madi have the flame, making sure we understood Madi, a twelve-year-old child, could only see relevant memories of the commanders, etc., but no. Instead, they imply that the former “lover” of her “mom” can consciously “speak” through her and show/tell the child anything. It is disturbing and I cannot believe the writers actually went there and were okay with it. Again, I am shocked that some of these people have children because they are not treated well in this show. And the  parents are usually the worst offenders.

On that note, I’d like to mention Abby’s advice and Clarke LISTENING. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate Abby, and I know she’s always “tried” but she has been for 90% of the show a terrible parent. You would not want to use her as a role model for good parenting, that’s for sure.

It’s not a for sure thing yet, but if that end scene of “saving” Bellamy, Gaia and Indra is Octavia’s “redemption” I am gonna pop a forehead vein. Bellamy and Clarke still get what they did seasons ago thrown in their faces daily. I expect this x 100 for Octavia because she actively chose to do all the hideous things she did. She is not a hero, she is a villain and should be treated as such for the rest of the season. She can get a “redemption” next season if she has to have one.

If you made it through this very critical review I applaud you (and if any of the writers or directors read this, know that I respect your talent; this ranting is because I know what you guys are capable of and it’s so much better than what I’ve see this season).

To end things on a slightly positive note, next week is the season finale! Can you believe it’s already here?! Also can you believe we’ve survived this VERY rocky season? There have definitely been great moment this season, just not enough. But here are the things I’m looking forward to  or hope happen next week:

We finally get to meet Shannon Kook’s character! I’ve been waiting to meet him for months!

Hopefully Bellamy and Clarke reconcile and reconnect, I miss their amazing bond and protectiveness of one another.

Hopefully Kane and Gaia are alive and healing?

After she helps Wonkru, I hope Madi has the flame removed and it gets destroyed, never to be mentioned again.

I hope Diyoza and her baby are A-OK and we will see them next season. Same goes for Shaw, I want him alive and happy being the sweet love Raven Reyes has always deserved.

I want Clarke to mend her relationships with all of her friends and people, to apologize and to accept apologies. I want her to feel loved, I am tired of her always being isolated.

I want Bellamy to feel loved and understood, especially by Clarke and not in a “shippy” way (though I’m all for it). I want her to acknowledge that she left him to die, that she sorely regrets it and that she loves him especially if she can express that kind of sentiment for a computer hard drive and someone she liked for two weeks of her life. Bellamy and Clarke deserve an entire episode to work through their stuff because their relationship is literally the central relationship of the entire series, and to not let them acknowledge what they mean to each other and make amends does the show and the characters a disservice.

I want the season to end with hope! This season in ways has been more depressing and frustrating than Season 3 ever dreamed of being. We need light at the end of the tunnel or Season 6 may have an audience of 17 people. Levity and hope don't take away from drama and angst if executed correctly. If you can’t write both sides into the same space it’s not a problem with your story, it’s a problem with who’s writing it.  

I will have hope that they can and will do better (the characters and the writers) until the end BUT I will still bring the salt when I need to.

I give this episode 3 bees because it had potential, great cinematography, and some great Murphy one liners. But it was overall flat and disappointing.

What were your thoughts of this episode? What are you hoping for in the finale? Comment below!

And tune in to the season finale next week! Our founder Sam will be live tweeting and writing up the finale review!

The 100 airs at 8/7c on The CW.

Gina’s episode rating:��🐝🐝🐝

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Love Like Lava, 13

Notes: As always, big thanks to my wonderful editors, Drucilla and Blueshifted. Not only are they great editors, they're fantastic pals.

Used some pieces of a storybit in here. When the story was in its early planning stages, the big gift was going to be a necklace. But after reading up on more mythology, I discovered a tale where Heph made Aph a tiara... and things rolled from there. (Additionally, after this, I can't help but picture Genie doing a certain scene again - TELL, HIM, THE, TRUUUUTH)

No, Gaia didn't make her. You'll just have to wait for more pieces of the puzzle.

Summary: Mickey has come to love and appreciate all in his life, and thus it is only proper he tell the one he loves most exactly what she's done for him. Is Minnie ready to admit her own secrets?

Mickey had always believed that the transformation behind sea glass was a beautiful thing. What were once useless, broken pieces of common glass tumbled and rolled on sandy shores until it was softened into something more soothing. It was a process that took years, so finding each piece was like discovering treasure. Even if he didn't have immediate plans for it, he always kept whatever sea glass he and the Axelias found, just in case. He figured some day he would find a need for them, and lo and behold, that day had come.

He had used every last piece of his collection for Minnie's tiara, and had no regrets about it, as he clicked the last one into place. Though his feelings for Minnie were often complicated and overwhelming, he believed there was nothing more he could do for his project to prove its perfection. On a hot summer day, perhaps a week or so since he'd met his first mortal, Minnie's promised gift was finally finished. He had once dreaded this moment, and while that feeling wasn't completely erased, now it didn't devour him whole either. He knew Minnie wouldn't leave him once she had her gift.

Minnie had proven that she cared for Mickey for far more than what he could create for her, and even with his immortal lifetime he couldn't repay all the kindness she'd given him. She would visit him and take him places for as long as they both lived. There was nothing he could say or do to drive her away – which, perhaps, included telling her that he loved her. Mickey sat on his workbench for a long time when the tiara was finished, already missing the feel of grass and gravel underneath his feet. He wanted to go outside – not to make Minnie happy or to see his fish family or to gather materials. He just wanted to be outside. What a strange, happy concept.

He slowly reached for his walking stick, and as he stood up, the closest Axelia stopped sharpening one of his old swords. She moved to pick up his wicker basket, but Mickey held up a hand. “No need for that. You can stay inside. I'll just be out a little while.”

She didn't move, her hands in a frozen position. “This-Is-A-Change-Change-Change.”

“Sure is,” he agreed, taking his time to walk. “Do me a favor. Take my bed sheet and cover the tiara with it. Knowin' Minnie, she'll bounce on in here any second. I wanna make this a nice surprise.”

“This-Is-Also-Also-Also-A-Change. You-Do-Not-Care-Care-Care-To-Surprise-The-Mermaids-Or-The-Nereids.”

“Minnie is different.” That felt like saying water is wet and the sky is blue. Yet even as he said it, he knew it was not that simple. “But all the mermaids are different too. And the nereids. They might act alike, but they're each their own person. So's everybody, I suppose. Everyone is their own person...Mighty silly thing to worry about a whole bunch of them...” he trailed off, thinking that just as every mortal was a unique individual, so was every god and goddess. Not all gods were like his mother and father, and presumably not all mortals were like Goofy and Agalma. If he was willing to give it some truly deep consideration, then the person he thought he hated most might be different than what he expected.

Not that he had any desire to meet Aphrodite, nor did he still like the mere idea of her. But it was something to consider, something to change, and his chest didn't feel heavy with hate. As he watched Axelia enter his bedroom to grab the sheet, he wondered if he had done her and the other Axelias a great sin by not ensuring they had their own unique personalities. He had only created them when he first understood there were things he couldn't do all by himself. They had been additional arms and legs, that was all.

Yet he had given them the ability to speak. It never really dawned on him until then that giving them the gift of speech had been wholly unnecessary for their duties. Then why had he done it? Why had he worked so hard to give them the illusion of hair and clothes, of a face with eyes and lips? Was it because he had wanted something natural to look at? Or... had it been for them?

Axelia walked back inside, having rolled up a single sheet in her arms. Mickey cleared his throat. “Axelia?”

She stopped again, and watched him, awaiting the next order. Mickey hobbled over, wishing he had something better to say, but words were not what he'd been blessed with. He looked up at his much taller servant, at a face that could never change expression and eyes that could never blink. He could hear the click and clack of gears moving within her body. Maybe Axelia wouldn't understand, but that was all right. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and hugged her tightly, her golden body still and cold. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, unaware that the other Axelias in the room had paused in their jobs to see what was going on. “I don't say it often enough...No, I don't think I ever said it. I should say it a lot more. I promise, from now on, every single day, I'm going to thank you.”

Mickey didn't expect any kind of response, and didn't mind. So he was slightly surprised to feel Axelia moving to kneel down, and return the gesture in an awkward attempt to copy him. Was she just trying to mimic him and learn? He didn't believe it, and he didn't ask. Though her body was metal, in that moment she felt as warm as sun-kissed skin. If there was a way to give her the beauty of individuality, he would find it. A smile had graced his face without him realizing it. “Say, uh, after you cover up the tiara...Could you all do me a favor?”

“All-All-All?” Axelia repeated, pulling back enough to see his face and ensure what he meant.

“Yeah, this goes out to everyone.” Mickey nodded once. “Whenever Minnie gets here today, could you... maybe just... turn around?” His cheeks tinted, already embarrassed. “Or, go outside and gather some food from the trees? Just for a little while! Maybe an hour?” If he couldn't get out the words “I love you” to Minnie in an hour, he absolutely didn't deserve her. But today he was going to put faith in his feelings, and even if they wouldn't be returned, they needed to be said. Minnie had more than earned all the truth and honesty he could give her. To hide it any longer seemed selfish on his part.

Axelia stood back up, an obedient mass of gears and machinery again. “Yes-Master-Master-Master.”

Mickey's eyes hit the ground, and then lifted back up. “One...one more thing. It's the last one, I promise!” A gulp, followed by a heavy sigh through the nostrils. “Could all of you...stop callin' me Master? Just Mickey's fine. Just plain ol' Mickey.”

“Mickey-Mickey-Mickey.”

A soft chuckle left him. “Mickey, Mickey, Mickey it is, then.” He could always try to improve the way she talked, but he liked the imperfection. After he found a way to give them all different and varying personalities, he'd ask them if he wanted their speech corrected. One project at a time. Right now, it reminded him of the cheerful, squealing cries of the mermaids and nereids. He'd have to thank them too, next time. He had so much to be grateful for, and had it not been for Minnie, he wouldn't have seen this. Even when she wasn't around, he now had the ability to be happy. What a wonder.

He resumed his walk, waving to the other Axelias he passed. Each one stopped what they were doing to copy the gesture, and his heart swelled. He loved them, he truly did. He loved them, he loved the mermaids, he loved the nereids, perhaps he could love Donald and Daisy and Goofy and Agalma, and he loved Minnie dearest of all, and his heart felt it was growing bigger and bigger. When he walked into the sunlight, he stopped, and closed his eyes, letting the pleasant rays wash over his body. He had never appreciated the sunlight before either, or the smell of the salty sea.

Whenever Mickey left his cave, it was to either get supplies or give his fish family what they requested. He'd never left to merely enjoy the feeling of being outside. The world was so vast, and it was full of amazing things and amazing people. Even if Minnie didn't return his feelings, it would hurt, but it wouldn't kill him. The sun would still be warm, the air would still smell salty, and she would still come to see him. He would still be happy.

“Mickey!”

Of course, he was much happier to have his name spoken by the one he adored most of all. His eyes snapped open, and there was Minnie, carefully making her way around the sharp rocks. Her flowing robes were the color of pink peonies, soft and welcoming, and for a brief moment her eyes had the same shade. After a blink, they were green sea glass, and without any warning she was in his arms, squeezing him tight, a toppling hug he was never going to adjust to. Mickey laughed, and he held her with one arm. “Hiya, Minnie! I swear, you always act like it's been years since you last saw me.”

“It always feels like years,” Minnie replied, snuggling up close without any sign of letting go soon. “This is like my other home!”

“Other home?” Mickey asked, quickly getting an idea of what she meant. “Oh, so the first one's Mount Olympus? Guess every god and goddess calls that home, it's where we all start off.”

“Ugh, not that place.” Minnie scrunched up her nose, the mere mention of the name disgusting her. “I never go there anymore. Everyone's all rude and stuck-up and awful. There's nothing in the world that could make me go back there!” Along with that, she hadn't “started off” there either. She came from the ocean – but if she said that, he'd know she was Aphrodite, and that conversation was being put off day after day. Minnie kept telling herself she'd reveal her true identity soon, which was easy when soon could mean anywhere from tomorrow to six years from now. But she planned to tell him! Wasn't that good enough?

“So what's your first home?” Mickey inquired with a curious raise of his brow.

Minnie pointed behind her, feeling safe to say this. “The sea! I always feel like I'm where I'm belong when I'm out there, with you and Donald and Daisy. Daisy has the boat today...Oooh, I wish we could go out today!”

“Don'tcha worry none.” Mickey poked her nose, eliciting a flurry of delighted giggles from his companion. “I've got blueprints for our own boat in the works! One day, we can sail without borrowin' from Donald and Daisy! It's gunna be swell! See, I got this whole idea for a thing called an 'engine', and if it works out, we'll be at all new speeds! We can get to places way faster than before!”

“Oooh, that sounds incredible!” Minnie's eyes glittered, attention caught. “Tell me all about it! How does it work? What's it made of?”

Mickey wanted to engage in another fun conversation with his friend, answering her questions while educating her on the world he came from, but he had to force the urge down. “Uh...maybe later, Minnie. See, there's somethin' I gotta do first. Come on inside.” Minnie at last untangled herself from Mickey, following him inside the cave. As they passed the Axelias, they saw Minnie and placed down their tools, heading for the outside of the cave.

Minnie watched this with puzzled eyes, tugging on Mickey's arm. “Where are they all going?”

“Um. Out?” That embarrassed feeling was back in full swing. “They'll be back later.”

Minnie bit on her lower lip, having a fairly good idea what was to come. This felt like cheating – she knew the full extent of his love for her even without whatever romantic gesture he was about to display. Yet she wasn't going to interrupt him. There was a world of difference between knowing something and having the words formed for you. She wanted to hear in Mickey's own tongue the way his heart beat for her. She wanted to keep the words with her locked tight in her heart, to keep with her always.

As they entered the furnace room, she also wanted to tease him a little. “Axelia, why are all of you leaving?”

The last leaving Axelia looked at her, then to Mickey, then back to Minnie. “Mickey-Mickey-Mickey-Asked-Us-To-Leave-When-You-Arrived.”

“You didn't have to tell her!” Mickey quickly huffed, swearing that now even his nose was blushing a deep scarlet.

“You-Did-Not-Ask-Us-Not-Not-Not-To-Tell-Her.” Maybe he didn't need to invent personalities in them. Maybe they were too smart-aleck already.

“Get outta here, will ya!” he barked once more, and the last Axelia exited the room. Minnie was grinning like a loon, and Mickey chose to ignore it, clearing his throat. “Take a seat. Please.”

There was only one seat in the whole room, which was Mickey's work bench, and Minnie sat down, smoothing down her dress. She placed her hands in her lap, and awaited him expectantly. “What is it you need to do, Mickey?”

Mickey's eyes flew to the hidden project – which, given that it was still atop the work slab and covered in a raggedy bed sheet, was a poor excuse for 'hidden' – then back to Minnie. He'd never done a dramatic presentation before. His usual gifts were just thrown at the fish girls. His hands clenched and unclenched around his walking stick, and he ran his teeth on his lip, anxiety rising. “This here,” he began, “is your tiara. I want you to know I worked real hard on it. I think it might be the hardest thing I ever worked on. Cause, um, well...it's more than a tiara, you understand? It's...” Maybe he should've written this down first – no, he still would've stumbled. “When I make things for other people, it's usually what they want. But this here... this has something I wanna say in it. I'm no good with talkin', Minnie, not when it's this important. I put my everything into this, because...because...because you are my everything.”

Unable to push anymore words out of his squeaky throat, Mickey yanked the bed sheet off. Minnie gasped.

Green wires circled twists of coral, working together to create a pattern of strength that would loop around the maiden's head, creating the illusion of rolling waves swimming upward. White ark shells bloomed where Minnie's black ears would be, and above her eyes would dangle blue and green angel wing shells, the sound of their touch echoing waves crashing upon the shore. Long threads of wire were made to fit sea glass, up and down and circling everywhere, catching the light of the flickering torches, and these would spill down as if Minnie would have hair made out of sea glass itself. The largest piece of all would be in the center of Minnie's forehead, where dazzling white pearls formed the shape of a teardrop.

Minnie had reached out to touch it without even thinking about it. It seemed to sing the song of water as she ran her fingers over the glass and shells, and the sight of it was enough to make her eyes wet. Each inch had been tended to with care and devotion, leaving not a string or pebble out of place. In the same way she had felt agony within every carving of what was once a statue of Millicent, she could feel the bliss that her company had given Mickey. Each setting was a place of rapture, and it had given him elation beyond the stars to make this. This was joy. This was love.

She was afraid to put it on, a wrong move shattering what came from a place of dreams and fantasy, but thankfully she didn't have to try. Mickey was delicately lifting it, and Minnie sat back up, breathing heavily, a hand to steady her pounding heart. He slowly slid it around her head, letting it slide into piece. Naturally it fit perfectly, as if he'd been able to mentally measure her head every which way. Mickey stepped back – and it was possible he'd done too good a job, as the power of Minnie's overwhelming celestial beauty combined with such a piece of breathtaking artwork was enough to make Mickey fall to his knees. It had matched her changing eyes, her adorable face, her angelic figure, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever walk again.

He didn't bother trying to get up. “Looks-” he stammered, wiping excessive drool from his lips, “Looks...Looks good on you.” Never would a greater understatement be said.

“Oh, Mickey.” She said his name with all the tenderness she had for him, taking his hands and holding them tight. “This is the most wonderful thing I've ever seen. I can't thank you enough...I'll never take it off!” A giggle of ecstasy leapt from her, and she couldn't contain her giddiness any longer. “Oh, I'll wear it every day and every night! I want everyone in the world to see what you created!”

It was now or never, and Mickey could feel his body shake. “W-well...whatever you wanna do with it is up to you now. It's yours. But I-I don't much care what everyone in the world thinks, not anymore. I care what you think, Minnie.” His fingers began to link with hers, fitting so perfectly it was enough to make him wonder if his body was born to accept hers. “You've been the best friend I've ever had. You listen to me, and you talk to me, and you accept me. All of me. Not because of my leg, or 'even though' it's there. You accept all of me. You – you do so much for me, and I feel like my life was just...a really long waitin' time before I got to know you. Like I was meant to know you.”

Mickey brought Minnie's impossibly perfect fingers to his lips, and kissed them. “I love you, Minnie.”

In that second, Minnie was back on the beach, Daisy alongside her, trying to discover the unknown god that the ditzy mermaids had spoken of. Mickey had sat on the cliffside, his eyes dull and his fur matted,  showering his girls with care and giving none to himself. Anger and bitterness had swiftly spewed from his mouth, and he was in a dark loneliness that threatened to swallow him whole. Even then, Minnie had wanted to know him, wanted to see him, wanted to hold him, and wanted to bring him happiness.

Now here was Mickey, his fur clean, his eyes bright, and hope shined brightly through him like a new star. Minnie had certainly helped him along, but these were changes he'd ultimately brought about himself. He had options now, he could choose, and he wasn't letting fear hold him back from trying. He was bold and funny and smart and he was brilliantly, gloriously Mickey. She could love no other.

Her fingers left his lips and cupped his blazing cheeks. “Ever since I was born...I have been treated as something higher, or something lower, but with you, I'm not either. I'm equal. I don't have to be anyone else but myself. I've been trying to find a place, and a purpose...This is my home. This is my purpose.”

Mickey's eyes were widening and his jaw was beginning to go slack. She couldn't possibly be saying – but the strength of these words couldn't mean anything else – when had he grabbed her arms? How was it possible she was becoming more beautiful with every word?

“For so long, I was worried you would only care about how I looked-”

Most people would think a love confession would be one, long straight uninterrupted road to bliss, but Mickey didn't think this, blurting out, “I'm not like that! Of course you're pretty, anyone can see that, but you're so much more than that! I love everything about you, I swear! C-Cause you're so nice to everyone, even the folks who don't deserve it, but you don't take nonsense from nobody, and you try to think the best of everyone, and you always make things fun and exciting...” He would not let her think his feelings were only because she was pleasing to the eyes, no way no how! “I even love the bad things about you, like how you always pry into things and dive in without thinking and tackle me down every time you see me! You're the best friend I ever had – and the weirdest one too!”

Had this been why it'd been so difficult to explain to Donald, and the fish family, and even himself, about this feeling? You weren't supposed to call the one you love weird, were you? But – but perhaps that just like every single mortal and god was different, the way they felt love was different too. Maybe the way he felt toward Minnie wasn't the exact way Donald felt towards Daisy, or for anyone else across the mortal plane. Even better, maybe there was nothing wrong with that. If he had been in denial, it might have been because he thought love was one-note, simple, pure, and that your other wouldn't have flaws. Yet here he was, telling Minnie all of her faults, yet still loving her all the same, and her smile never wavered.

… Oh, boy, he was still saying it, wasn't he?

Yes, Mickey hadn't shut up since Minnie brought her one worry, and Minnie was never going to get a word in at this rate. She suddenly yanked hard on his cheeks, making him flail and falter until his hands were slapped onto the workbench, and he found himself nose-to-nose with the girl he was hopeless for. It was an effective way to silence him, save for the audible nervous gulp.

“If you want a reason for how I feel, I'll give you a million,” Minnie whispered, eyelashes fluttering in a way that made him choke, unwilling to let him go. “If you want me to leave, I'll do that too, even if I cry after every step. I'd do anything you'd want me to do. If it made you happy, I'd grab the moon and deliver it right at your feet. You make me happy. You make me whole. Forever and always. If I was born for any reason, if I was meant to exist, then it was to be with you until the end of time. I love you, Mickey.”

Minnie wouldn't allow him to have even a millisecond of doubt. Being the goddess of love, she physically showed her affections whenever possible, but she'd never given a true kiss before. Despite this, she knew exactly how to give one, and with one final push, she pressed her lips onto Mickey's mouth before another breath of air could be drawn.

The combination of the world's most perfect kiss, from the master of love who had been able to hear what she longed for most, planted upon one who had never been kissed and who'd been denied affection for most of his life, was enough to do several things across both the mortal and immortal planes.

First off, exactly one hundred and six people found the courage to propose to their loved ones. Seventy-six women found themselves carrying a child by those they cherished. Forty-two couples rushed to do an impromptu wedding. Two hundred and eighty three people fell in love, with approximately fifty-nine of them falling in love at first sight. Ninety-nine bold lovers found the irresistible urge to kiss their dear, sixty-four dates began to be planned, and eight decided to build new temples for Aphrodite. Donald decided to throw aside his schedule, appearing in front of Daisy on their shared boat. As Gyro explained how a chariot race functioned to his new friends, Agalma laid her head on Goofy's shoulder and he put an arm around her. Hera and Zeus held hands, staying together for the day.

The final effect was Mickey falling onto his back, unwittingly dragging Minnie down with him. Minnie let out a tiny yelp, and sat on Mickey's hips, trying to register what had happened. A look at Mickey's face told her that he'd nearly passed out – but peacefully so, given that stupefied beam he was wearing. Nevertheless Minnie hovered over him, inspecting to see if he'd bumped his head. “Oh, dear. Mickey, are you all right?”

Mickey inhaled as much as his lungs would allow. “Iiiiiiiii,” he drew out, slurring like drunk on his tenth cup, “Am...the rightest...I have ever been!” He began to laugh deliriously, extra glad that the Axelias hadn't been around to see it. His fists pounded wildly on the floor, and soon he didn't care how silly he looked. He was far too happy to care. The happiness that he'd been mooning over maybe an hour ago? That was nothing compared to this! “I- I am the luckiest guy alive! Ha ha ha ha! Aw! Oh boy! I don't believe this! Am I dreaming?”

Minnie pinched his cheek. “No, you're not. But there are other ways I can prove it!”

“Oh no you don't!” Mickey grabbed her wrists, teeth glinting in his hot grin. “You gotta warn a fella when you do somethin' like that!” He immediately proved himself a hypocrite as he gave Minnie no warning before kissing her in full, and from then on the echoes of passionate laughter vibrated from wall to wall. It was the perfect opportunity for Minnie to embrace Mickey and tell him every secret she'd been holding back from him – her true identity, her real reason why she came, and the promised engagement proudly declared on Mount Olympus.

It was the perfect time and she didn't tell him any of these things.

Those with a sympathetic ear could have accorded this to her worries of rejection and hurting the one she cared for most. Those with a critical eye could have deduced she was just too giddy in her blossoming returned love that she put all such troublesome matters away for another day that would never come. But those who believe in the workings of destiny could tell you that there never would be a more perfect time again, and that she would pay dearly for the well-meaning puzzles.

When an hour had passed and their giddy playing had yet to cease, the Axelias hovered around the entrance of the cave but didn't enter. They would wait all day and night, and centuries onward, if the sound of Mickey's joyful mirth didn't stop. It would stop eventually, and Minnie would leave eventually – Mickey wasn't going to get any work done now if he constantly had his adorable beloved at his side – so it wouldn't be a terribly long wait. But they waited nonetheless.

There is no god or goddess that can stop time, though many had attempted in vain before. In that dark cave, with a craftsman holding the goddess of love on his lap, where equality made for the most powerful bond of all, time still didn't stop. But it came pretty close.

~*~

Long after the effects of Aphrodite's wave of love around the world, Donald was alone by choice. He had told Daisy he was returning to the Underworld, which wasn't technically a lie, since he'd have to return there soon. In truth he'd gone to a lone hill that towered above Ippos, the town famous for its chariot races. He hadn't planned to go there exactly, and he mused that perhaps a subconscious part of him planted the idea there, what with Goofy's upcoming race. He'd merely wanted to go to a place of solitude and greenery for an idea that he was entirely positive wouldn't work.

Everyone else was content to let the mystery of Aphrodite's origins remain exactly that, but it had rested heavily on Donald's mind, along with the oddity of the mortal woman who “came from nowhere”, so said the Fates. Daisy seemed to be keeping her own secret, and for now, Donald had let her be. If she felt she had a reason to tell him, she would have. He'd give her time before needling her.

As for here and now, Donald knelt upon the grass, touching the soil with a flat palm. If anyone saw what he was about to do, they'd think he was nuts, and rightfully so. “Hey,” he finally choked out, almost afraid of a reply. “Did you do this?” It was if he was asking the very earth itself. Which he was. “Did you create Minnie? If you did, that's okay! I just – I just have a bad feeling about all this.” No response. Donald's hand curled up, scraping bits of dirt underneath his fingernails. “If you did make her, we could get some answers! The kid barely knows what she's doing. She needs help. She needs guidance. I can't abandon her like I did Mickey. Just...give me a sign! If you didn't make her, then where did she come from? I just want an answer!”

Nothing but the soft caress of wind on his cheek. Hehad known he wouldn't be heard and was still disappointed. It'd been his last option – there was no real way to prove Minnie's birth any other way. With a heavy sigh he stood back up and brushed down his robes. “Well, thanks for nothing, grandmother.”

Gaia hadn't been heard from by anyone since the fall of Kronus. Some had speculated she'd been killed – although how one could kill the very spirit of the planet was mind-boggling. It was much more plausible to think that she was asleep and no power could awaken her, if she even wanted to wake up. Losing her first children had devastated her so deeply that it seemed entirely reasonable she never wanted to be in a world without them – despite having other children that could have returned every ounce of her love. But to her, her first batch were perfection because of how she'd made them.

Donald was about to return to the Underworld when he caught sight of the people in Ippos. It was hard to see from such a height, but from what he could make out, a young man was parading not only his horse, but its recent foal, and eager kids were circling the trio, hoping the pet the walking baby. In that moment Donald was envious of the mortals, wishing he could be so carefree. Mortals were astounding in so many ways. They built with their own two hands what a god could snap their fingers for and receive in an instant. They were resilient, and never gave up.  They continued to build and create and invent and Donald believed some day they would never need to pray again. Maybe the mortal race had already forgotten the legend of Gaia and the Titans – the monstrous children that her husband had deemed so hideous he sealed them inside earth's core. Would mortals ever be so selfish and cruel? Perhaps, but there were just as many who would welcome ugliness with open arms.

Yet for all the wonderful abilities of mortals, and gods as well, they couldn't make children on their own as Gaia had. Only Gaia, and no god since, could make another living thing based out of sheer love. She hadn't needed her husband or any male touch – all she had to do was desire for someone to care for, and they had come. It was taken as fact that it was because she was an elder god and so powerful that of course only she had been able to do it.

Donald watched a little girl trying to climb on top of the foal and wondered. Had it been Gaia's own natural ability to create them? Or had it been because her love was so strong, and no one since then could love as deeply as she had? He'd like to think not – he loved his wife with every ounce of his being, and in his own way, loved his nephew, and Minnie too. No matter what questions rang in his mind, they wouldn't be answered. So he answered them for himself.

No, Minnie was not a child of Gaia.

No, Minnie didn't need to know where she came from today.

No, he wouldn't abandon her, and he would do all in his power for her and Mickey.

Yes, he needed to get back to work.

And so Donald vanished, leaving behind a small clump of dirt, and the wind blew again, sounding like a softly knowing sigh.

[sueboohscorner]

The 100 Ep 512 Recap "Damocles, Part One" #The100

The march to war is over...now the war starts in earnest. Echo's intel has given Wonkru a false sense of security, and Octavia looks downright confident as she leads her army into battle...but of course, Echo doesn't know she's been betrayed by Kane and Diyoza. Wonkru is ambushed by heavy weapon fire from the ridge, and young Ethan is the first to fall.

The strafing fire continues throughout the episode, and those who led this wave of the attack are all either dead or playing dead. Anytime anyone pops their head up; they get shot. So Bellamy and Octavia wait out the daylight before any attempt at making a move, which gives them plenty of time to air grievances. 

Fortunately, Bellamy is officially done listening to Octavia blame him for everything. She's been in full control for quite some time now, and her decisions have brought everyone to this place, to this danger. He quite rightly tells her to own her bad actions once and for all.

Speaking of lousy decision-making, Kane had better be at least starting to realize McCreary is not a good bet, no matter how dark and deep his rage toward Octavia has grown. McCreary cheerfully annihilates Wonkru and then sticks Diyoza in a cell, informing her that she'll be kept alive just long enough to give birth, then executed. Which, while we're on the subject, is another really shitty plan. That kid's best chance at survival is to be breastfed, and McCreary isn't some ruler over a vast kingdom who could just conscript another recent mother as a wetnurse. Seriously, somebody needs to kill McCreary, and I'm hoping it's either Kane, Diyoza, or Clarke (Diyoza deserves to kill him after this, and for Kane or Clarke, it would be a step toward redemption after aligning themselves with him however briefly...Clarke needs a lot more redemption than Kane does, of course).

But at the moment, Kane doesn't even blink at McCreary's behavior; he just asks to see Abby. Man, I wish he could quit her. She's like a black hole, drawing him toward his doom. 

Abby has been treating the prisoners, as ordered by McCreary. Clarke and Madi are still with her...until suddenly they notice Madi is gone. Like, of course, Madi's gone! You know she hates what you're doing and doesn't want to be a part of it! You know she has the immortal spirit of the Commander driving her to fight for her people! But Clarke's still trying to be Mommy Dearest and control the kid. Abby tells Clarke that she came up with the plan to send the 100 to the ground in order to save Clarke when she was in the skybox, awaiting execution, so the answer is you do whatever it takes to protect your kid, no matter what...

And Clarke interprets that to mean she should slap a shock collar on Madi and turn on the juice! I was disgusted when Abby pulled this with Raven, but this is even worse--Clarke doesn't have even the lousy excuse of drug addiction for her act of cruelty. What's more, Clarke tries to take the Flame back from Madi! Fortunately, Madi saw that coming (sad when a kid knows they can't trust their parents!), and she's edited the command codes so no one else can control the Flame right now.

Out on the field, where it's finally dark, Bellamy and Octavia start moving, but they don't get far, because Indra's nearby with Gaia, who is gravely injured and can't move on her own. They help get her to a different position for now, where she can be looked at without drawing fire, and Gaia reasonably points out that Octavia was ready to watch her die just a few days ago. Gaia isn't moving on that easily, O, and as the girl who sliced Pike's leg open moments before a battle, you should be able to respect that.

In the cave, spacekru discovers Kane and Diyoza are gone, and they know they've been betrayed. Echo leads a small mission to track down Madi because their last hope is the Commander.

Raven is on the verge of getting Madi's shock collar off when Clarke bursts in and points a gun at everyone! She makes sure to call Shaw by name in the moments to follow, and that's significant because it turns out she's had a walkie-talkie in her back pocket with the channel open the whole time! She just alerted McCreary and his goons to where Echo, Raven, and Shaw were, and she hands over Raven and Shaw without blinking. I'm so over you, Clarke. 

McCreary takes Raven and Shaw away, and everyone understands what's about to happen: Raven will be tortured to get Shaw to comply with McCreary's demands. Shaw begs Raven to kill him, but even if she had that in her, their time runs out. The goons arrive to ensure the imminent bombing of Wonkru.

Back in the cabin, Clarke insists it's a mystery why these three were fixated on Madi, and she offers to interrogate Echo to find out. And oh what a shock, the moment Echo clues Clarke in that Bellamy didn't actually die despite Clarke's betrayal, there's sudden remorse over helping annihilate what's left of Wonkru. Clarke, you used to care about people in general, remember that? Now it's just Madi, then Abby, and Bellamy a distant third until he pisses you off.

But Echo does manage to get through to Clarke, with Madi's help. Clarke finally stops trying to keep Madi from her destiny. Madi and Echo go off to fight, and Clarke heads in the other direction to stop the bombing.

On the field, Gaia's bleeding out, Indra's disconsolate, and Octavia finally realizes she has failed her people. She chooses a martyr's death, no doubt hoping to earn redemption and be remembered as a hero rather than a dictator. "My brother, my responsibility" is a genuinely touching moment. 

But she is saved at the last minute by Madi and spacekru, riding in on the Rover to gather the wounded, lay down cover fire, and take out as many of the bad guys on the ridge as they can with their rail guns. 

I'm not sure I am ready to trust that Octavia really learned anything today. She was ready to die, but she didn't, and it's what she does now that really counts. Will she finally bend the knee to Madi, accepting Wonkru's chosen Commander? Can her pride take that at this point?

But I've left the biggest story (in my view, and hey, it's my recap) for last because I'm devastated by this cliff they've got us hanging on! Kane and Abby have reunited to a degree, though he's rightly keeping his distance (even refuses her hand when she tries to take his). In the middle of the night, Vinson arrives at Abby's cabin.

Kane is a smart man, which means he is deeply frightened of Vinson, and Vinson can see that. Vinson enjoys making people nervous, making them squirm. He notes that Abby had the control switch for his shock collar with her when she left. Kane's eyes dart toward a scalpel on the table; Vinson sees it too. It's not close to one than the other, but Vinson is unburdened by things like conscience or self-doubt. He's come to kill Kane, because the way he sees it, Kane's death will cause Abby to crash back down again and need drugs, which will mean she needs Vinson, who was providing her with those drugs. 

They both make their moves, but Vinson is ruthlessly quick. He grabs the scalpel and stabs Kane over and over, then goes for his signature move of biting out the throat. 

Abby returns to this horror and turns up the shock collar to the maximum. Adios, Vinson, you scary SOB. She rushes to Kane's side, and he uses what he no doubt believes to be his final breath to absolve her, offering forgiveness for how she helped Octavia break his spirit in the bunker. He says he only blames Octavia, not her. And it's now clear how he was able to choose McCreary; his hatred of Octavia is based on rational, objective actions, but it's informed on a deeper level by his irrational love for Abby. To remain completely objective about Octavia's guilt would require him to fully acknowledge Abby's guilt, so he has chosen to love Abby at some expense to his moral integrity. 

I can't bear for this to be the end of Kane, so I'm on pins and needles this week. He deserves better than to die as a result of Abby's addiction. In "Pandora's Box," he nearly died as a direct result, fighting in the arena because she'd been caught stealing and he'd taken the fall. Here, his death would be more indirectly a result of her addiction, with Vinson attacking him specifically to provoke a relapse.

Other thoughts:

Man, it was fun watching Murphy try and repeatedly fail to wield that big honking space gun. 

And it was kind of cathartic watching Echo to kick the crap out of Clarke, who so has it coming.

10/10