#but right now i want to see them repair and rebuilt the friendship they once had

[sassyhobbits]

Could you please write post Kingdom of Ash fic where Aelin has to go back to Doranelle with Rowan on important business or something and she deals with her trauma going back/ meets Rowans family/ Rowan repairs his relationship with his cousins? Pretty please 🥺

loved this idea and had so much fun writing it!! combined with the modified prompt of “living is so much harder than dying. are you sure youre fit for living?”

here’s day 5 everyone!!

~~~

It had been three years since Aelin Galathynius had stepped foot in the City of Rivers.

Her first two visits to Doranelle had been… less than pleasant, to say the least. Most sane people who had gone through what Aelin had would never get within a hundred miles of the city. But, Aelin had never been one to allow a shitty experience or two keep her away.

In the three years since the end of the war, Terrasen had slowly been rebuilt. Aelin had gotten used to her role as queen, had gotten used to peace. Although it had been hard and strenuous work, it was worth it. Every struggle and late night, argument with lords and advisors, had led to happiness for her people. Aelin would do just about anything for them.

Part of being queen, Aelin had quickly learned, was responding to correspondences from other kingdoms. Sometimes, they weren’t all that bad. She liked to write to Dorian, enjoyed the sporadic letters she received from Manon. But there were plenty of others that were less fun. Taxes, proposals, budgeting.

But, a few weeks ago, she received a letter from Rowan’s cousin, Sellene, the new Queen of Doranelle. She invited both Aelin and her husband for a diplomatic visit to her lands.

“Are you sure about this, Fireheart?” Rowan had murmured to her one night, curled up in his arms in bed. “You don’t have to go.”

Aelin understood his concern. The last time she had been to Doranelle, she had been beaten and bruised within an inch of her life, patched back together, only to go through the process again the next day. Maeve had certainly done a number on her. But Aelin would be damned if she let the bitch get the last laugh.

“I want to go, Ro,” Aelin assured him. “I want to see where you grew up, get to know your family better.”

I need to go, is what she didn’t have to say, but knew Rowan understood. Aelin had conquered many of her fears in the years since the war, but there were still nights she woke up screaming, still nights when it was impossible to tell the difference between the darkness of night and the darkness of the iron coffin.

She needed to go back to the place where she had been brought down to her lowest. Needed to prove that she was strong, and that she had triumphed.

And so it was decided. The queen and king consort would sail east.

They stayed a week in Wendlyn with Aelin’s cousin, Galan. Since he had sailed to her aid during the war, they had formed a closer friendship. It was good to see him, to see the kingdom from which her mother hailed.

From there, they traveled by carriage to Doranelle.

“Much nicer than the first time we made this journey,” Aelin remarked one afternoon from the comfort of their carriage, resting her head against Rowan’s shoulder.

“You certainly smell better.”

Rowan earned himself a slug on the shoulder for that little comment.

They passed into the City of Rivers discreetly, not truly wanting to deal with a huge welcoming party. Aelin convinced Rowan to take a day to themselves, for her husband to show her the city itself. The beautiful, simple lives of the citizens of Doranelle. How Rowan had grown up.

It was a perfect day. Aelin loved seeing Doranelle in all its glory. It was truly a work of art, unlike anything she had ever witnessed in her years traipsing the continent. They wore hoods despite the mild, spring weather, the both of them far too recognizable now to move freely without some sort of disguise. It brought her back to the days of being Adarlan’s Assassin.

Rowan brought her to some of his favorite places growing up, showed her a block that sold the traditional street foods of Doranelle for lunch. He bought her some sweets and took her to a lovely park, where they lounged under the shade, just talking and sharing kisses. He took her to a nice restaurant for dinner, snagging a private back room for just the two of them. It was all perfect.

And then the next day, they woke and readied themselves to head to the palace. Aelin managed to wrangle her husband into something nice, though he protested it on the basis of it just being his cousins. She wouldn’t hear of it.

That first day in Doranelle, exploring the streets as nothing more than another citizen, Aelin had been nothing but content and relaxed… but the first sight of that wide, curving bridge that would lead them to the palace had her heart beating just a little bit faster.

She remembered the last time she had crossed this bridge beside Rowan. She had still been going by Celaena then, freshly nineteen, just stepping into her power and her status. Terrified, though she never would have admitted it then. She had already been falling in love with Rowan, and her newly healed heart certainly wouldn’t have survived losing him.

She knew Rowan noticed the small change in her demeanor, feeling him squeeze her hand comfortingly.

They were greeted by Sellene, who was just as elegant and beautiful as Aelin remembered. It was clear she had stepped into her role as ruler with dignity and grace. She embraced Aelin like she was an old friend, making her feel truly welcome.

They were shown to their rooms, given time to settle in and refresh themselves before they would meet in court before dinner.

Their quarters were lovely: bright, open, and airy. The glassless windows allowed for the sweet spring breeze to blow into their room. There was a large bath that Aelin had full intentions of making use of that evening. Hopefully with Rowan. He wouldn’t need much convincing.

Some of Sellene’s ladies came in to help Aelin prepare, making sure her hair was thoroughly brushed and gleaming, twisted up in perfection before placing her crown on top. Her gown was a lovely piece of Terrasen green and intricate silver embroidery.

By the time they were both ready, they made quite a pair. Striking, indeed. Aelin made sure she complimented her husband thoroughly as they made the short trip from their chambers to the throne room.

It managed to distract both Rowan and herself. She barely took in the halls they walked through, some of it twinging deep recesses in her memory, like some sort of dream. But, she forced herself to focus on Rowan, the man she loved, lest the memories get the better of her.

The next thing she knew, they were being announced as they strolled leisurely through the crowded throne room. Fae nobility bowed and curtsied as they walked by, sending them wide, broad grins.

The throne room was so different than Aelin had remembered it. When it had been Maeve perched on that throne, it had been cold and quiet. It had somehow always felt like a trap. But, with Sellene as queen, it was bright and full of life. Music played, people laughed and smiled. It was… good.

A half hour passed by busily. Aelin was introduced to some of Sellene’s courtiers, reintroduced to Rowan’s other cousins. People gave her their thanks, commended her hard work and sacrifice during the war.

It was hectic enough at the beginning to keep her mind thoroughly occupied. Chatting and charming and laughing. It took a while before there was a lull in the conversation, when Aelin wasn’t listening to someone or speaking herself. But, it finally came.

Aelin took the rare moment of solitude to take in her surroundings. Rowan was across the room, talking with his uncle and cousin, Enda. He looked happy, relaxed. She loved it when he smiled.

She looked away from her husband, glancing around the room. Despite her better judgements, her gaze snagged on that throne.  It almost looked non-threatening in the late afternoon sunlight, but her gut still twisted. Images of a pale woman with dark hair and a spider’s smile flashed to her mind unwillingly. She flinched, eyes screwing shut and willing the memories of Maeve away. She was successful at first, but not for long. Images and snippets of voices, of screams that she didn’t know came from herself or others, assaulted her all at once.

Aelin’s breathing sped up, her heart hammering beneath her ribs. She felt the phantom bite of broken glass in her knees, heard Maeve’s cruel laughs. She saw Fenrys, heard his cry when Connall spilled his own blood right there by the throne. It was so clean now. Like none of it had ever happened.

But no. That had been real. The other images Maeve had sent her weren’t but…

Suddenly, the airy throne room was too small, too packed. Aelin felt ill. She ducked her head down, slipping out as discreetly as she could manage. The moment she was sure she was out of view, she bunched up her skirts and ran.

Her body remembered the way down into the depths of the palace, though she had never navigated herself. It had left a mark on her soul. She would never forget.

The dungeons below the palace were a stark difference from the open, bright architecture above. It could have been a different world. It was just as dark and cold as Aelin remembered, as it was in her nightmares.

She wasn’t sure how, exactly, she knew which of the near identical, dismal cells had been hers but… she knew. She hesitated outside the door, amazed by just how ordinary it looked. Who would have guessed that she had been held and tortured behind that door for two months?

Aelin pressed her palm against the door, the magic left in her recoiling at the iron she sensed. These dungeons had been built to keep people with magic contained. They had been well designed.

She pushed into the room slowly, using her magic to light the torches lining the walls. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to find: a coffin, blood stains, iron chains waiting just for her. But… it was empty. Even the stone table she had been chained to while Cairn carved her up was gone.

Just… nothing.

Aelin wasn’t sure how long she stood there before she sensed a familiar presence behind her. She was wrapped in the familiar scent of pine and snow, Rowan’s warm body standing just behind her. He placed a broad hand on her shoulder. “I thought I’d find you here.”

A tiny smile curved her lips, though she didn’t bother looking back at her mate. “You know me well, husband.”

There were a few beats of silence. Aelin didn't have to be looking at Rowan to know he was carefully considering his next words. So, she did him a favor, and spoke first.

“There’s nothing here,” Aelin said simply, stating the obvious.

“No, there isn’t. Is that a bad thing?”

A tiny shrug. “I don’t know. Yes? No?” Aelin hung her head in defeat, covering Rowan’s hand with her own. “Sometimes, it's hard to believe it all really happened. Without the scars, without the coffin… it just seems like something I dreamed up. I know I didn’t but…”

“But what, Fireheart?”

Her eyes burned with tears, throat tightening. “It would be… comforting, I suppose, to know that the experience left its mark somewhere else than in my head. It was terrifying and hopeless but I don’t want to forget it happened.”

Rowan stepped closer, her back pressed against his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around her securely, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. “I think you know that what happened doesn't only still affect you. I don’t think Lorcan will ever fully forgive himself for summoning Maeve to the beach that day, I don’t think Aedion will ever stop feeling guilty that he hadn’t been there for you when you needed him. And I…”

He trailed off, but Aelin knew Rowan better than she knew herself. She knew his fears, his regrets, his insecurities. Just as Aelin awoke some nights thinking she was back in that coffin, Rowan would wake thinking she was gone. Those nights, he would wrap her tightly in his arms and wouldn’t let go until the sunrise, as if she’d disappear with the morning dew.

She gave a meek nod. “You’re right.”

They stood in silence for a bit longer, stealing strength from one another. After a period of silence, Aelin spoke again.

“I thought it’d be easier by now,” she commented. “I spent most of my life struggling to survive, trying not to die in one way or another. It’s been three years of peace. I know three years is nothing to you and will eventually be nothing to me too but… when does life get easier?”

Rowan didn’t answer right away. “Living, Aelin, is so much harder than dying.”

She sighed and nodded. “You’re right. But when have I ever not stepped up to a challenge?” She looked up at Rowan and smiled cockily. He gave a breathy laugh and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You’ve already conquered death, Aelin Galathynius,” he said. “I have no doubts you’ll conquer life just as easily.”

#rowaelin #my writing #i rlly enjoyed writing this one #tog

[captainsassmanes]

I dare you. Malex fic prompt

“How long you gonna stare, Guerin?”

Maria had shifted from tequila to wine like the rebel she was. Leaning against the bar with a comfortable, smug grin on her face, Michael knew she was special. She was one in a million. 

Just not the one.

“I, DeLuca, am staring at nothing.” He got a disbelieving scoff in response and muttered a quick, “shut up,” into his water.

“C’mon, Michael. This is it, right?” She leaned into his space taking hold of his forearm across the bar. “He’s single again, you’re single. You’re sober, you’re working, Max is back. Life is, like, good for a change.”

She put down her glass to take hold of his chin, turning his head to look at her. “He’s all that’s missing now.”

Maria had closed the bar for the night, the gang gathering for a very sloppy, over the top, birthday celebration for Kyle. The space overflowed with balloons and booze and the best, homemade Mexican food north of the border. All night, everyone had been smiles, the walls echoing with laughter and fond stories.

Michael noticed but barely took his attention off of Alex, who sat quietly, entertaining people who stopped by his table briefly, sipping on the same beer all evening. 

He sighed, patting Maria’s soft hand still resting on his arm. “Thanks for the advice, lady, but I fucked that up royally a long time ago.”

“Bullshit, Guerin.” He spun around at that, pleasantly surprised. Maria held her booze well but the first sign of a drunk Maria was an aggressive Maria. “You’re just too chicken shit to walk over there and try again.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

He turned on his stool, his back to the room, and put his face in his hands. When he looked up, Maria’s face was close to his, full of kindness and concern.

“I’ve said shit, Maria. Like, definitive, mean, never getting together, kinds of shit.” He sighed and scratched his head. “I don’t think I’d forgive me.”

“He loves you. We all know it.”

Michael shrugged. “Not enough.”

She shook her head and sipped her drink. “You don’t know that.” When Michael didn’t answer, she upped the ante.

“Jesus, I dare you.”

Laughing, Michael said, “excuse me?”

“I dare you, Mr. Chicken Shit, to go talk to Alex. Say hi or ask him to dance or chat about the weather. Anything. But I dare you to go talk to him. Now.”

Michael huffed out a laugh and shook his head, bringing his hand to cup Maria’s cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She lifted her chin and her glass in the air. “Damn right.”

Michael smiled and slapped both hands on the bar. “Alright, challenge accepted. Wish me luck.”

He watched the smile slide from Maria’s face and followed her gaze to the quiet corner of the bar. The seat Alex had occupied all night was now empty. A wave of nerves and a sense of dread filled Michael’s gut as he searched the space for that dark head of hair but came up empty.

“Go, go get him.” Maria tapped him on the cheek and headed to their friends while Michael threw his hat on his head and jogged out of the bar. He practically slid to a stop when he saw the Jeep was still in the lot.

Slowly, Michael walked toward the driver’s side, thinking of what to say, how to start a conversation with someone you’ve barely spoken to and probably hurt beyond repair. He took his hat off, holding it close to his chest but stopped a few feet from the car.

Alex was in the driver’s seat, engine running, hands on the steering wheel.

And he was sobbing.

Michael had seen Alex cry before, his gorgeous eyes well up with tears, a few allowed to trickle down his cheeks, some landing in the corners of his mouth. He’d been the cause of them more than once.

But this was different. This was pain. Or grief. Maybe both.

Alex’s whole body shook and, through the closed car door, Michael could hear his cries, his gasps for air. He watched, feeling helpless, as Alex’s knuckles turned white where he squeezed the wheel too tight. His mouth, always a tight line of plump, pink lips, was now wide open, his cries escaping into the vehicle with nowhere else to go.

Before he knew what he was doing, Michael pulled the door open so fast it nearly came off it’s hinges. He pulled Alex to face him by his arm and the back of his neck and held him close. Michael’s collar became damp instantly. He didn’t know if it was tears or saliva but he didn’t give two shits either way. Alex’s arms had come up under his arms and was pulling on his shirt, taking fistfuls of the fabric and holding on tight.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Michael tried to pry, find out what was happening, in between whispering reassurances and shushing him like Isobel had done for him a few times.

Time had stood still, Michael devastated by Alex’s pain but terrified that something was truly wrong. Without warning, Alex sat up straight and pushed Michael back, putting about a foot or two between them.

“I’ve gotta go.”

Michael grabbed the car door before Alex could slam it in his face. “No. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Alex just shook his head, eyes looking straight ahead with his hand still on the door trying to pull it closed, solider facade trying to return.

“Alex, please! Let me help!”

The saddest sound Michael had ever heard left Alex’s mouth. “You’re perfect together. I’m glad you’re working it out but, my God. I can’t watch anymore. It’s fucking killing me, Michael. It’s killing me!”

More tears gathered as Alex’s breathing became uneven once again.

Through his head spinning, Michael finally realized what Alex must have thought, what he put together. He and Maria had broken up weeks ago, privately and kindly. She was tired of feeling as though she wasn’t enough and he was exhausted trying to pretend she was. Maria had told him after a kiss to the cheek to fuck off and she’d call him when she was ready. He’d smiled and kissed her back telling her he’d be waiting.

She called. They talked. They rebuilt. And their friendship quickly became something he’d longed for most of his life. The intimacy they’d had for years was still there, though, and Alex, who had missed their friendship during his deployment, only saw its surface. Affection. Flirting. Love.

“No no no. Alex, look at me. Please, just look at me!”

Alex took a few deep breaths and turned his head, tension pulsing off of him with every beat of his heart. “We’re friends- “

“I don’t want to be your friend- “

“Not us, you idiot. Me and Maria. We’re just friends.”

Alex scoffed. “That’s right. I like to pet Kyle’s face while we talk, too.”

“Uh, I know, I’ve seen the two of you. You aren’t far off.”

“Guerin!”

“I’m serious, Alex! We aren’t dating. We broke up but stayed friends. Good, good friends.”

Alex moved his hands over the wheel, gaze back out to the parking lot.

“She was getting me to go talk to you.” Alex looked at him with an eyebrow up. “I couldn’t get the balls to do. When she finally got my ass up, you were gone.”

Biting his lip, Alex shook his head and dropped his hands to his lap, picking at his fingernails. “When will the jealousy stop?”

Michael felt a lump form in his throat and took a cautious step forward. “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Your friendship with Liz, your relationship with Maria, siblings who love you, all the women you took to bed before Maria, maybe after, how smart you are, how brave you- “

He was cut off when Michael felt the overwhelming need to show Alex his love. They’d hurt each other, over and over again, unintentionally and with purpose. Alex had plenty of reason to be scared now, to put his walls up and hesitate. But Michael would show him, every minute from now on if needed, how important he was, how loved.

When their lips parted, Michael’s now salty with the remnants of Alex’s tears, their eyes met. The utter shock and surprise in Alex’s eyes caused guilt to rip through Michael. How fucking convincing had he been that Alex believed Michael couldn’t love him anymore?

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Michael repeated, hands tangled in Alex’s soft hair, shifting his head subtly back and forth so he could take in every last feature, every detail of Alex he could.

Michael’s thumbs brushed away the last of Alex’s tears and he smiled at the dumbstruck look still painted across the man’s features.

Dramatically, Michael cleared his throat and took a respectful step back. He picked his hat up from the ground where it dropped when he’d run toward the Jeep, and smiled.

“Alex, I’d like to take you on a date. There’s this great burger joint in town, The Crashdown. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

The small smile he got in return was worth the cheesiness.

“I hear they’ve got the best chocolate shakes in Roswell.”

Michael nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, they do. Absolutely.”

Alex sniffed and wiped his face, shoulders relaxing and some of the strain from his voice fading.

“I like chocolate shakes.”

“I remember.” The blush painted across Alex’s cheeks made Michael’s knees weak. “Can I pick you up tomorrow? Around 6?”

Alex nodded, biting his lip to contain his smile. Michael thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He moved forward, kissing Alex gently on the cheek, memorizing the feel of stubble, the smell of cedar, the line of his cheekbone, the feel of his breath on his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex. Drive safe.” He offered a small bow before putting his hat back on his head and stepping away from the Jeep.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Alex smiled as he closed the door, even giving a small wave before he drove off.

Michael waited until the only evidence of Alex was the dust cloud his car left from the road before letting out a howl and tossing his hat in the air.

He got another chance. He wouldn’t fuck it up this time.

#Roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #i managed to write maria #miluca mentions #angst with a happy ending #my fic #prompt #thank you! #barely edited

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 20: Cʜᴀᴏs Iɴ Cᴀᴍᴘ

Masterlist

Episode: Day Trip

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for. 

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Twenty

Although it was crowded and the atmosphere was still tense from the storm, I was pleased to return to a solid structure for the night. Octavia and I bundled up some supplies in a corner and after some persuasion, she agreed to stop obsessively guarding the grounder and to actually try to get some sleep. It was hard for either of us to relax, especially when I saw Bellamy head up the ladder for his turn watching our prisoner as Octavia dozed on my shoulder. I was starting to feel the strain of worrying about the Blake siblings; any time I was busy with one of them I could almost guarantee that the other was getting into trouble. I barely managed a few brief cat naps throughout the night despite my exhaustion. Instead, I was one of the first up and about in camp working on repairs in the morning. 

In my time here I’d already become quite efficient at sewing and so I was quickly assigned to repairing the damaged tents. I had a brief cheeky visit from Jasper and Monty on their way back from their successful foraging adventure to offer me some nuts that they’d found. I declined the food, feeling too stressed to eat and I promised to join them for a proper meal later on. I settled into a quiet corner near the edge of camp to work and enjoyed the peace of the alone time. After spending time on the Ark living isolated in a cell, I realised that it was a challenge for me to adjust to the constant presence of so many people. I keep my mind from wandering over what trouble Bellamy and Octavia could have gotten into by now and instead reassured myself that both of them tend to make a big enough scene for me to notice. I spent a couple of relaxing hours sewing and watching the bustling activity of the camp as people woke and were assigned to various tasks. We’d managed to assemble a food line with people organising portions into neatly packed rations so that we could keep track of our supply levels.

I noticed several people heading over to the area where we’d been keeping prisoners and I watched their activity with interest. I assessed that they carried enough supplies to indicate that repairs needed to be done to the makeshift cells we’d created and I wondered where they would put the two attackers whilst they rebuilt. I continued sewing as I waited anxiously for someone to escort the two men past, but no such movement happened. After a while, more assistants arrived with shovels and two large sheets filled with a human shape were carried past me to the gate. I overheard the people who hauled them out discussing how glad they were that the storm had only killed the rapists of camp and I was relieved to hear that no one else had been hurt. I was conflicted on whether it was appropriate to feel no sadness at the death of two members of our camp, as I knew in my gut that I would have argued against killing them for their crimes. I decided to allow myself to feel relieved that the decision on what to do with them had been taken out of our hands and I tried not to feel guilty about it. Once I’d accumulated a pile of repairs, I made my way back into the fray and took them to add to the pile of fixed items that were waiting to be set back up in camp. As I organised the pile, Clarke approached me with a nervous manner and I struggled not to roll my eyes. 

“Hey Indigo, I couldn’t find you earlier. I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet but we’ve got video contact up and running with the Ark. They’re sending all the families in for a chat so if you’ve got anyone to contact-”

“Nope, my only family is down here.” I cut her off abruptly, not wanting to engage in personal conversation. I was honestly still frustrated with her for getting swept up in the torture last night, but I was too exhausted to confront her for her part in it right now. “Anyway, I’ll go back to the orphan corner. The Ark’s quite good at creating us, I’m sure it’ll be crowded in no time.” I spat coldly as I stormed away from her.

I returned to my sewing and tried not to be bitter as I watched people being called to the tent one by one for time with their families. I struggled not to picture my mother and when I failed, I imagined what she would look like now. My mind filled with images of her, the warm tone of her short auburn hair, her fair skin always a fawn white coated in hundreds of tiny amber freckles. It was one of the most beautiful, fascinating things about her to me, the little sporadic pattern on her skin that sadly never passed to me. I remembered the blue lagoon of her eyes, glistening with a multitude of hypnotising shades and if you paid enough attention, a miniscule ring of hazel right around the pupil. I saw them every time I looked in the mirror and it was still haunting for me even years later. It was only worsened by the fact that my eyes never sparkled like hers had in her happier years, in the memories of her that I cherished most desperately. Instead, mine were dulled and depthless, the same way hers looked after years of pain and suffering endured at the hands of the guard who destroyed both of our lives. The eyes that I inherited from my mother were a constant reminder of the state that she had been in the last time I ever saw her and I suspected it was a large cause of the self loathing I felt whenever I dared to look into a mirror. I was relieved to be pulled from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps nearby and I glanced up to see Clarke and Bellamy making their way out of camp. I casually approached them, trying not to show my concern and Bellamy seemed relieved as he saw me. 

“Hey, you heading out?” I asked with an interested look as I noticed the supplies they both carried.

“Yeah, the Ark mentioned some supplies nearby so we’re going to scout it out.” Clarke replied, whilst Bellamy watched me with a tense air about him that seemed to come from nowhere.

“Oh, well that’s promising. You sure you’re okay with just the two of you? I can back you up if needed?” I offered earnestly, but as Clarke opened her mouth to answer Bellamy abruptly cut her off.

“No I need you here.” He spoke firmly and I stared at him in confusion. He glanced over to Clarke reluctantly, then took my arm and walked me slightly further from her, lowering his voice. “Look, I appreciate you coming after me last night and I’ve been thinking about what you said. I will try to trust Octavia more, you have my word on that. But for now, I trust you. Can you keep an eye on her for me?” His expression was deeply serious, more so than the situation warranted and I felt like there was something more to his request that he wasn’t sharing with me.

“Of course I can.” I answered, considering him suspiciously. “Is there something else going on Bellamy?” I asked in a vain attempt to encourage him to be honest with me.

“No, I just…” He trailed off unconvincingly and I raised a brow at him. “I’m on edge with that grounder in camp. I’m trying to trust her not to do anything stupid, but if I’m honest, I’m expecting it. Just...tell me that you’ll keep her safe for me?” His eyes were strangely intense and he still gripped me tightly as he spoke.

“You know that I will.” I breathed with a confused tone, feeling nerves settling in my stomach as I assessed him. “So you just make sure that you come back safe, deal?” I replied, compelled to reassure myself that he would be coming back as I embraced the feeling that something was wrong. He didn’t answer me, turning to walk away without even a nod of acknowledgement. I grabbed his arm firmly to stop him from leaving. “Bellamy, I mean it. Be careful out there, please?” I added, my words quickly fading from assertive to pleading. He nodded reluctantly but it did nothing to relieve my fear. I watched him and Clarke make their way out of camp with a knot in my stomach and I had to force myself to return to the dropship instead of staying there to wait for their return.

As I entered the ship and searched around for Octavia, I wasn’t at all surprised to find her anxiously waiting on the second floor, under the hatch where the grounder was being held. I was walking toward her when Connor pushed past to bang on the hatch and yell up. 

“Hey Miller, Roma’s parents are waiting for you on the radio.” He called before turning on his heel to walk straight out without waiting to see if he had been heard.

My stomach lurched at the mention of her name but I tried to concentrate on the task at hand. From Connor’s words, it sounded like they were about to leave the grounder unguarded and I could already feel Octavia desperately staring at me. I diverted my path to avoid looking suspicious and fiddled with some supplies in an attempt to look busy. Fortunately Octavia understood my strange move and she quickly did the same on the other side of the space as we tried to look casual whilst Miller made his way down the ladder and stomped outside. Octavia immediately dashed to the ladder and I ran over to meet her. 

“Hey, Bellamy’s out of camp so I’ll try to keep the goons out of your hair. I’ll give you as long as I can but please don’t do anything reckless. I know you trust him and I’m on your side that this whole thing is wrong but you still need to be careful. Don’t let your guard down. Now go.” I rambled in a hurry, before practically pushing her up the ladder to speed her up. I knew in my gut that Bellamy would be furious with me if he knew what I’d just done, but our methods of protecting Octavia were different and I found that allowing her to make her own decisions and mistakes was working well for me so far. She was growing, which she needed to do in an environment like this and I maintained her trust. In my mind, it was most important that she always continued to trust me with her problems so that I could help when she got herself into trouble, instead of sneaking around behind my back like she did with Bellamy. I waited nervously on the spot whilst Octavia was upstairs and I expected to run into trouble at any moment. It wasn’t long at all until it came. Miller approached the ladder with a furious expression and I steeled myself for a conflict. 

“Miller, how were Roma’s parents? I can’t imagine that as an easy conversation to have. If it helps I can speak to them? I was with her when…” I trailed off, unsure of what else to say. I wasn’t even sure if what I’d offered would be of any help at all, and felt guilty for even trying to use it as a distraction.

“No Indigo, that wouldn’t help at all. Now get out of my way, I need to get back to guarding the piece of shit whose friends are killing us.” He spat, pushing past me. I jumped back in front of him to try to block him and he looked up at the hatch in frustration. “Oh goddammit, Octavia is up there again isn’t she? Will you two ever give it a fucking rest with getting in the way?” He growled and I shifted awkwardly. I was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to think of a better distraction and instead had to resort to reasoning with him.

“Come on Miller, she’s not doing any harm and Bellamy isn’t even here. She’s just treating him like a human being.” I answered in an attempt to diffuse the situation and I already felt in my gut that I was wasting my time as he viewed me with disgust.

“What about our people, the ones they killed? You think they treated them like fucking human beings?” He spat as he continued to try to get to the ladder, but I remained in front of him to block it.

“We don’t even know if he had anything to do with that. We don’t know anything about Earth, we didn’t even expect there to be people here! We can’t hold one man responsible.” I argued, trying to reason with him despite his growing anger. I couldn’t tell which of us would lose our temper first as he looked down on me and I felt my stomach turning in frustration.

“Get out of my fucking way Sloan! Bellamy isn’t here to shield you today, don’t fucking test me!” He growled, attempting to pull me out from the ladder but instead I instinctively pushed him away from me and held my ground.

In an explosion of anger he swung at me; his fist collided with my jaw and caused me to stumble back. True to my assurance to Bellamy that I could protect myself, I rammed into Miller, tackling him at his waist and splayed him out on the floor. I pulled my arm back to punch him but before I could complete the movement I was interrupted by frantic yelling as Jasper stumbled into the space. 

“Octavia! Indigo! Octavia!” His tone of blind panic caused me to let go of Miller and instead of continuing my assault, I jumped to my feet. As I did this, the hatch opened and Octavia frantically started climbing down.

“Jasper, what’s wrong?” I asked worriedly and as his gaze fell on me, he rushed over to my side. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see that Miller was back on his feet and that he was in the process of reaching up to violently pull Octavia from the ladder. I felt my temper combust inside my chest and I turned on my heel, throwing all of my weight behind the punch that met his face like a bulldozer. Miller collapsed onto the ground unconscious and I shook my hand with a grimace.

“Fuck, Indigo, that was extreme!” Octavia breathed as she viewed me with a hint of amusement and I shrugged back. “Jasper, are you alright?” She asked as she gently placed a comforting hand on him in concern.

“I...I think I’m going crazy.” He spat as he reached out with a desperate grip on her shoulders. “Or the grounders are here, or I’m going crazy!” His voice was frantic and terrified and I raised my brows in surprise. Octavia gently released herself from his grip and she began to lead him to the entrance to the dropship. 

“Okay, just slow down.” She breathed, encouraging him to match her relaxed pace. “Just tell me what you saw.” As they reached the entrance and gained a view of the camp, Jasper seemed to hyperfixate on one point with wide, horrified eyes. I approached them, standing at his other side from Octavia and I watched him closely. 

“Him!” He whispered, his voice trembling as he pointed to an empty spot. Although it was obvious to us that he was pointing at nothing, the conviction in which he stared out and pointed insistently caused me to become concerned.

“Jasper, there’s no one there.” Octavia replied firmly as she tried to take control of the situation. 

“He’s right there!” Jasper yelled wildly back, finally losing control of his panic and I jumped at the sudden change in his demeanor. “We have to run, we have to run, why isn’t anyone doing anything-” He grabbed Octavia and tried to pull her but she dug her heels into the ground in resistance. I grabbed his arm to keep him with us and he stared at me in shock.

“Jasper! Are you on something?” Octavia asked and was unable to keep the annoyance from her tone any longer.

“Stay calm with him Tavi. He might be having a trauma flashback.” I spoke softly and slowly, as Jasper watched me with an expression that showed that he wasn’t really seeing me. He turned back to face Octavia with a slightly calmer manner, but instead I could sense a hint of slurring in his words.

“I love you.” He stated, causing us both to raise our brows in surprise. “And I just want you to know that we’re all gonna die soon, okay? I love you.” He rushed his words but also tried to cram food into his mouth at the same time. Octavia grabbed his hand midway to his mouth and revealed the nuts that he and Monty had offered me earlier. 

“Is this all you’ve eaten today?” She questioned, fixing him with a serious expression as I watched with a feeling of dread as I recognised them.

“It is but who the hell cares now?” He breathed, waving his arms around in a dramatic fashion and I had to stifle a snigger at his out of character behaviour.

“You’re totally bombed.” She sighed, glancing over at me for assistance and I looked back at her with concern as I shook off my amusement.

“Him and Monty offered those to me this morning when they found them.” I clarified as I met her eyes and she looked back at me with relief. “How many other people in camp did they give them to?” I asked, glancing around with a knot in my gut and her eyes widened as she realised the implications.

“I don’t know but we need to find out, fast. For now we need to deal with him before he causes a panic.” Octavia whispered, indicating to Jasper who was now hyperventilating and causing quite a scene. She stepped outside by just a few steps and I had to grip his arm to keep him from following her. She picked up a fallen branch and returned just inside the ship to hand it to him purposefully. “Here buddy, take this.” She breathed and I sensed a hint of sarcasm in her voice despite her best efforts to conceal it.

“It’s a stick?” He questioned as he took it and stared at her in bewilderment.

“No, this is an anti grounder stick.” She argued in a forced tone and I struggled not to snort at her prosperous plan. “So as long as you hold this and you sit right here, grounders won't be able to see you. See?” She spoke softly and encouraged him to take a seat inside the dropship.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll just stay right here.” Jasper nodded, settling into his seat and accepting her lie far easier than I’d anticipated. Octavia looked at me and rolled her eyes, and I had to stifle a giggle. I was sympathetic for Jasper; he’d been through so much since we got here that I thought he was doing incredibly well to still even be functioning.

“I’m gonna do the rounds of camp and just check no one else is freaking out.” I stated as I glanced out at the seemingly calm space anxiously and Octavia nodded in agreement.

“Good idea. You take one side, I’ll take the other and we’ll meet back here.” She answered and I smiled at her responsibility.

I stuck my head into multiple tents and everyone on my side seemed to still be their normal selves. From what I could tell, people were still efficiently working on their duties. After checking most of my side, I decided to find Monty and I hoped that he’d be in a better state than Jasper had gotten himself into. When I entered their tent, I found Monty laid flat out in a pile of sleeping bags and staring up at the ceiling of the tent with a fascinated expression. 

“Hey Monty, are you good in here?” I asked gently as I stepped properly into the space and surveyed him. He turned to face me with a dosy smile and widely dilated eyes. 

“Hey, it’s the pretty girl!” He answered cheerfully and I chuckled under my breath at his strange demeanour.

“So, I’ve just been chatting with Jasper and he was telling me about the nuts you found in the forest this morning.” I approached slowly and sat beside him. I was careful not to startle him after Jasper’s earlier panicky behaviour and worried that I could inadvertently spiral him into a similar state.

“Oh the nuts! Yeah, they’re super good, they’re so tasty, I think they might be the best thing I’ve eaten since I got here.” He raved, smiling widely at me. “You should make sure you get some.” He added and I knew that baiting him would be easier than I had anticipated.

“You know, I really want to try them, they sound amazing. But everyone liked them so much that no one will share with me.” I said coyly, and his face fell into a profoundly sad expression as he considered my words. I struggled not to snigger at his dramatic reactions.

“What?! That’s so greedy! I’ll share with you pretty girl.” He smiled, pulling a small supply of the nuts from his pocket and handing them to me without any resistance. “It’s not much, but those are all I have left.” He admitted and I was warmed by his kindness.

“Thanks Monty, you’re the best.” I replied, forcing a wide smile back at him in an attempt to not be suspicious. The effects of the nuts seemed to be different on Monty, maybe because he hadn’t endured quite as much trauma as Jasper, or maybe he was usually a chilled, happy drunk. I reflected on what he’d been arrested for, and decided I wouldn’t be surprised if the latter was the case. 

“Oh you’re welcome Indie! I’ll always share with you. You’re nice, and cool, and pretty. So pretty. Did you know that? Bellamy doesn’t deserve you.” He rambled quickly in a slurred fashion.I struggled not to laugh now, wrinkling up my nose as I smiled at him. 

“Well it’s a good thing that Bellamy doesn’t have me then, isn’t it.” I replied earnestly as I appreciated his kind words, even if they were caused by blatant intoxication. “You know what Monty, you’ve done so well today gathering these delicious treats that I think you’ve earned a break. Why don’t you take a nap?” I suggested encouragingly as I got to my feet.

“Yeah, a nap sounds great. I love naps.” He smiled as he shuffled himself into a comfortable position and quickly dozed off. I smiled at his peaceful form resting in a self hugging pose before I crept out of the tent. I made my way back to the dropship and found Octavia waiting for me. 

“Hey, just so you know Miller’s back up and being a dick as usual.” She groaned in annoyance and I rolled my eyes. “He went straight back up there to guard Lincoln-I mean the grounder.” She added before dropping her gaze to her feet.

“Please tell me you haven’t named him? He’s not a puppy and no you can’t keep him.” I stated firmly, with only a small hint of playfulness. I hoped for a laugh but instead she stared back at me in an awkward manner.

“No, that’s his name. He told me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper to divulge this information and I froze to the spot in shock. 

“You said he didn’t speak English?” I asked in a hiss as I felt unnerved by this revelation.

“I didn’t think he could, but turns out he can.” She replied casually and I got the impression that she didn’t understand the gravity of this discovery. I stared back at her in horror, as I remembered how much of the conversation between Bellamy and I had been in front of the prisoner. I desperately struggled to think whether I had said anything that could endanger Bellamy if it were to get out and felt my heart hammering as I considered it. 

“Jesus, Octavia, did you tell him anything?” I grilled her with more aggression than intended and she seemed to be confused as she stared back at me.

“No, of course not, he didn’t want to know anything. I just told him I was sorry about what happened.” She explained and I could tell that she was insulted in the way that she spoke. “How was your side of camp anyway? Any more freak outs?” She asked in a crude attempt at changing the topic. I sighed but allowed her to guide me, as the nuts situation was a more pressing issue.

“No, everyone’s pretty normal, except for Monty who’s totally baked. But I took what he has left so at least he’ll start coming down.” I answered in a matter of fact manner. “Your side?” I questioned nervously.

“No weirdness at all, maybe Jasper and Monty just ate too many?” She thought aloud and I shrugged back at her. I was hopeful that she was right, as I couldn’t imagine the chaos we’d be met with if these had made their way around camp.  “Raven and Finn haven’t come out of their little love den so they should be fine.” She added with a hint of bitterness and I fixed her with a scrutinising look. 

“Did you check them?” I asked, eying her suspiciously. She avoided my gaze, shifting awkwardly and I sighed deeply in disappointment. I understood why she didn’t want to be around Raven, but I trusted her to be more mature considering the circumstances. “Fine, I’ll deal with Raven. Don’t do anything whilst I’m gone.” I added as I stepped away from her. She cleared her throat and I paused to turn to face her again. “Unless...you already did something?” I asked hesitantly. She looked incredibly guilty now and was barely even facing my direction any longer. “Octavia, what did you do?” I hissed in annoyance. I knew her too well for her act to fool me and I could tell from her face that there was something she was trying to hide.

“Nothing!” She exclaimed defensively. I raised a brow at her and she quickly crumbled. “Nothing undeserved.” She added with a coy smile and I felt my stomach lurch at her wording. “I may have had a part in ensuring that Miller got his rations.” She smiled and I groaned loudly as I understood that she had drugged him with the nuts. “Look, I’m just saying, if the guards were too high to keep an eye on him then it would be easy for him to just accidentally escape.” She explained her logic and I stared at her in disbelief. 

“I just...what?” I stuttered weakly as I processed her words. “I know I agreed with you that he should never have been brought here, or tortured, and I have absolutely no intention of allowing anyone to execute him, but we can’t seriously be talking about letting him go?! That’s a huge risk Octavia, you don’t know him, what are you going to do if he comes back with an army?” I ranted as I felt the nerves brewing in my stomach. As I was in the middle of glaring at her, I realised that she was looking over my shoulder and I turned to see a commotion growing in the camp. It seemed that the effect of the nuts had simply taken a while to kick in as people were now starting to behave strangely all over the camp. “Shit, we’ve got bigger problems right now, I can’t talk to you about this just yet. I know you have drama with Raven and I get it, but Finn is injured and still very early in his recovery, so I need to make sure he’s not high as a kite and busting open his stitches because you dumped your responsibilities over a grudge. Stay here, and don’t do anything reckless whilst I deal with this, and we’ll talk about it when I get back.” I spoke quickly, allowing my tone to convey my stress before I rushed to Raven and Finn’s tent.

It was a struggle to even make it through the chaos of the camp. I was stopped several times by random people in varying states of confusion and panic. I struggled to part from each of them as I worried over reaching the person who I felt was most vulnerable. When the tent finally came into view, I could hear raised voices from inside. I quickened my pace to deal with the conflict and saw Monty stumbling out of the residence.

“Monty, what are you doing? I thought you were having a nap?” I asked frustratedly as I caught sight of him. I couldn’t believe that the one person I thought I’d dealt with was already back out and causing trouble. He turned to face me with an overly cheesy smile and I scrutinised him with an unimpressed manner. 

“Oh hey Indie! Well I was trying to have a nap but the tides kept interrupting me so I need to find the moon so that I can change the tide.” He explained in a manner that was so articulate that it was almost believable. I stifled a laugh as I assessed that even whilst drunk Monty was trying to solve problems and studying things in his scientific mind. I smiled at him fondly as I formed a plan to get him out of the way without having to scold him. 

“Oh, the moon?” I replied in a fascinated tone. “You know I just saw it heading into your tent, but if you go in there you’ll have to close your eyes so you don’t get blinded by it. So maybe lie down with your eyes closed whilst you talk to it.” I made up whatever I could think of on the spot and waited anxiously to see if Monty believed me. Although he was intoxicated, I doubted that he had become any less intelligent and I worried that he would see through me.

“You’re a genius!” He smiled eagerly and I let out a breath that I didn’t even realise I was holding. He gave me an exaggerated high five before running excitedly in the direction of his tent. Raven stepped out of her tent, pulling on her jacket and looked around. 

“What the hell is going on?” She asked as she surveyed the chaos that surrounded us with confusion.

“Monty and Jasper found some nuts earlier that seem to be hallucinogens. Everyone's losing their shit.” I explained, watching closely for any strange behaviour from her. “Did either of you eat any?” I asked to confirm that she wasn’t going to fool me as the rest of camp had.

“No, thank god.” She breathed, widening her eyes as someone ran past bare chested and waving their shirt in the air like a flag. “I was with Finn so didn’t collect any rations.” She replied, rubbing her head in a stressed manner. “Does the pressure ever stop here?” She groaned as she met my eyes with an exhausted face. I was surprised to find that her tone was the same as it had been before she brutally tortured the grounder and then tried to fight me.

“No, welcome to Earth, the bullshit is constant.” I spoke coldly, no longer able to bond with her as I had over Finn’s unconscious state. I couldn’t pretend that last night hadn’t happened and I didn’t have the time to deal with the aftermath just yet. “Now, we’ve got around 90 dellusional teenagers to keep alive, so we’re gonna need every set of hands we can get.” I requested and Raven sighed deeply, sticking her head back into the tent.

 “Scratch that, get out here.” She spoke into the tent before straightening back up. 

“Thank you. If you could start gathering any stragglers at the edge of the camp and bring them back in that would be great. Octavia and I will gather the ones near the dropship.” I instructed and Raven immediately nodded in agreement.

As I approached the dropship I witnessed Octavia creeping back in with supplies bundled in her arms. I broke into a jog to catch her up and I could tell that she hadn’t spotted me nearing her. I cleared my throat just before I fell into step beside her and she jumped in response.

“What are you doing?” I spoke firmly and she turned to face me like a deer caught in headlights. I studied the items that she was carrying and easily identified some clothes and rations. I surveyed her with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. I’d barely been gone for ten minutes and I couldn’t believe that she’d made such a dramatic decision in that time. “I said we’d talk about this. Are you really sneaking around to do this behind my back?” I asked with a hurt tone as I met her eyes. For a moment, she looked genuinely remorseful, but she quickly flipped to defensive behaviour. 

“Oh right, of course.” She breathed, squinting at me with annoyance. “You say we’ll talk about it and you expect me to just sit and wait whilst our best chance of getting him out of here is passing us by?! We’re not going to have a better opportunity than this, ever!” She spat and I was surprised to find her pressuring me at such an impossible time.

“Yes, it’s our best chance to free him, but how do we know that freeing him is the right thing?” I asked and she rolled her eyes. I dropped to a scolding tone to try encourage her to realise the seriousness of the conversation and I felt more like I was parenting a bratty child than discussing something with my best friend. “It’s a risk Octavia, what will we do if he comes back with an army of grounders? Will you still feel so justified in your decision when they are killing us in front of you?” I pressed back, in an effort to make her understand the gravity of the decision we needed to make.

“That’s not going to happen! He saved my life!” She argued and I half expected her to stomp her feet as she spoke in an indignant tone.

“Don’t be fucking naive! You don’t know him!” I yelled back as I lost my temper with her ridiculous behaviour. “He may have saved you, but then he chained you to a wall like a fucking pet.” I jabbed and I saw the flicker of offence crossing her face.

“If I’m wrong and he has an army of grounders, they are going to come looking for him! If we let him go, maybe he’ll show us mercy in return.” She suggested and I scoffed at her. “You need to ask yourself this: when Bellamy comes back and we have to make a decision about what to do, how are you going to feel watching him get executed, knowing that you could have saved his life?” She reasoned and I paced around in an attempt to manage the stress that she was piling on me. I knew that we had little time to make a decision one way or another, but I couldn’t judge which option was the most sensible. After all of my time preaching about survival skills and being tactical, I didn't know the answer. “Indigo, sometimes you have to take a chance and have faith in people. I have faith in Lincoln, I can feel in my gut that this is the right thing to do. Now I’m just asking you to trust me.” I stared at her in uncertainty, and my recent words to Bellamy repeated in my mind, much to my frustration. If there was one thing I never wanted to be, it was a hypocrite.

“Fine, fine!” I spat as I snapped under the stress. “But this is on you, this is your choice. Don’t make me regret this!” I added as I jabbed a finger at her and she nodded back thankfully. “You get him out, I’ll keep the few sober people distracted.” I instructed as I tried to form a plan within the limited time constraints. “Come and find me when he’s gone.” I sighed, furious at her for putting me in this position. 

#the100 #cw #oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #indigo #originalcharacter #bellamy blake #bellamy x reader #bellamy x oc #bellamy x you #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake series #the 100 insert #the 100 rewrite #clarke griffin #octavia blake #raven reyes #finn collins #jasper jordan #monty green #lincoln #john murphy #wecomerunning

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Musings #77: The Puppet Who Wanted to be a Real Girl. Is Penny Polendina really back?

jade-rosepine asked “ While I didn't mind penny and all, I can't help asking; what was the point of bringing her back? I mean yeah wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. Only thing I could think of was to make ruby be forced to make a difficult choice - kill a friend to keep her from being used by the villians (she is still a robot and could, theoretically, be hacked by a way more advanced virus. Basically the cyber-version of brainwashing or possession!) OR let her live and be a slave to the baddies?”

Squiggles Answers: 

@jade-rosepine​ Whelp I was going to save this bit for my musing on the first episode of RWBY V7, but since you brought it up, I might as well voice my thoughts here. I’m going to be honest with you, fam. This squiggle meister has mixed feelings about Penny’s return.

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Heart of Machine

In the past, I was a big fan of the idea of Penny being rebuilt and returning for the Atlas Arc. However back then, I liked it under the pretence that she wouldn’t exactly be the same Penny Polendina that we all met back in V1. I figured she’d be an entirely different character and the justification for her being this way was so that the plot could’ve allowed for Ruby Rose to finally have some semblance of closure since it’s been shown throughout previous seasons how much Penny’s death has affected her emotionally.

As a matter of fact, as evidenced by her ‘Indomitable’ moment in V6, Penny’s death (along with Pyrhha’s and the events of the Fall of Beacon) are still a visible mental block to Ruby being able to fully utilize her Silver Eyes. Since Ruby was shown to still have much growing with mastering her unique power, I was hoping that part of her arc for this season would be coming to terms over her loss over Penny as I was certain being within her old friend’s home kingdom was bound to bring back memories of their time together.

Now I’m not so sure whether or not closure with Penny will still be in the cards for Ruby. It’s not he fact that Penny returned that troubles me. It’s the fact that she returned and is presumably supposed to still be her old self but fixed now. I’m sorry but I’m just not actively buying that at all. I mean, like you, I get that this feat wasn’t entirely impossible to do given that Penny was a robot and technology can be easily repaired; especially in a kingdom as technologically advanced as Atlas and especially by the hands of Pietro Polendina---the man who was literally described as the Greatest Mind in the kingdom. So yeah, Penny returning--- totally could have seen that coming. But that don’t mean I’m not heavily suspicious about it knowing these writers.  I still feel like there’s something’s awfully fishy about this whole plot twist.

This brings me to my hunch about Penny 2.0. I don’t believe that that’s Penny. I mean, she is her. She looks like her (albeit with a more updated design that is reminding me a lot of Bach Do’s design of her from her RWBY 3.0 art series). Talks like her and of course, acts like her. But I feel like this version of Penny is merely a shadow of the soul she once was. I still feel like the old Penny that Ruby befriended perished at the Fall of Beacon and what we’re seeing now before us is just a copy mimicking the behaviour of its original predecessor.

When Penny 2.0 first appeared, after getting over my initial shock and excitement of seeing the character again, I couldn’t help but shake this icky feeling in my gut that something was off about the new Penny. I know the series is trying to get me to think that Penny is back here but…I don’t know. I’m not entirely buying it. I feel like something is awry about this and not even her bright and shining smile in the opening is enough to quell my lingering suspicion. I can’t help but feel like something is going to happen to Penny…again.

Perhaps your theory will be correct here Jade. Perhaps it will be a case where Arthur Watts creates and implants his strongest computer virus yet into Atlas’ system which not only corrupts all the Atlesian Battle Droids in Atlas but all technology within the whole kingdom; Mantle included. This is inclusive of Penny 2.0 and possibly even Pietro Polendina’s mechanical wheelchair which goes haywire and knocks the poor old soul man off of his seat leading to Maria Calavera having to defend him and help him to safety.

Perhaps it will come down to Ruby having to fight an infected Virus Penny 2.0. However I don’t think Ruby will be forced to kill Penny. I think a moment like this will boil down to what’s stronger---hardware and programming or the soul.

It was stated back in V2 that Penny is the first (and possibly only one) of her kind. The first artificial lifeform to produce an aura. As we know, aura is described as the manifestation of one’s soul. Penny is supposed to be a soul within the body of a machine. While her body may be synthetic, at her core, she is supposedly human or the closest thing to it.

And since the V7 opening hinted at love being a major theme for this volume, it makes me wonder if we’re going to get a potential moment where a mind-controlled Virus Penny tries to harm Ruby but in the end, it’s the strength of the profound friendship shared between both girls that ultimately allows for Penny to combat the virus corrupting her machine software with the love she feels in her soul for her dear friend. Y’know love conquers all.

I wouldn’t even be too surprised if it’s a case where Penny ends up sacrificing herself to put a stop to Watts’ tyranny. Like Penny uses her core to cause a chain reaction that obliterates Watts’ powerful virus.

Dr. Polendina mentioned in the first episode that the only reason he was able to fix Penny in the first place is because Atlas was able to salvage her core from Amity Arena. Penny’s core is obviously an important part to her. I’m assuming it’s the part of her that contains the soul that’s keeps her alive. So no matter how many times Penny’s body is destroyed, so long as her core is still intact, she can be brought back. Why mention that little detail at all if it wasn’t going to be relevant later, ey?

What if … Penny’s core does eventually get destroyed. If that gets obliterated, then Penny---or at least the version of her that Ruby knew and loved--- will be gone for good this time.

I feel like the V7 finale could set up for a Terminator II type of conclusion where the machine our protagonist has grown to know and love over the course of their story is forced to sacrifice itself for the greater good of saving our hero from a dark fate. I feel like should your headcanon be made reality in the canon, we’re likely to see Penny sacrifice herself on the grounds that this time, there’s no coming back.

I can imagine Penny’s core being used as the key to stopping Watts reign over Atlas and this time, Ruby is allowed to do what she couldn’t do back in Vale. Not only would she get to save Penny but she would also get to officially say goodbye to her friend and tell her how much she loved her before tearfully watching her give herself up for the purpose she was built to do---save the world.

That’s how I’m more seeing things going down for Ruby and this newly rebuilt of Penny for their shared storylines this season. As per usual, these are only my headcanons here and I can very well be very much wrong in my prediction. But nevertheless, for now, I’m leaving this thought and theory on the table.

Then again, I’ve also gotten ahead of myself here.

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More Machine Than Man

Now that I’ve discussed how I figured Ruby and Penny’s story may conclude for V7, allow to me to voice my views on the build up to it.

As I’ve said, I feel very off about Penny being back. While I’m relishing in seeing her again, I also can’t feel a sense of this is too good to be true; y’know what I mean?

I feel like this is all a set-up. Like right now, both the audience and our main gaggle of heroes are left to believe that Penny had returned and she’s all good as new---almost like she never died at all, right?

But I feel like there’s a catch to that. I feel like at some point, in a later chapter of V7, Ruby is going to have her chance to spend some quality time catching up with Penny. At first, things seem pretty normal between them. They’re both laughing. Swapping stories…having a grand ole time with their heart to heart girl talk…only for Ruby to notice something quite off about Penny.

Like I have this scene imagined in my head. A scenario in which Ruby is supposed to head back down to Mantle to hang out with Penny P who’s finally have some free time to catch up with her old friend and desires to take Ruby on an official fun tour of Mantle---the nicer parts that is.

As a matter of fact, let’s say Penny invites the whole squad---JNPR_RWBY down for a night of fun and dancing down in Mantle with her and father. Pietro did mention in the first episode that he’s been working on shows that dance. Given his enthusiasm, dancing must’ve been one of Pietro’s favourite pastimes prior to losing function in his legs. So maybe, at some point, since the kids have all been working hard with their huntsmen duties and training, Pietro decides to treat them all to a nice of entertainment.

 Imagine if …Pietro and Penny take the group to an old fashioned Mantlese Carnival which is basically RWBY’s version of Mardi Gras with a big parade of bands with nonstop musical entertainment.

I was kind of hoping that our heroes would have reunited with Team FNKI while they’re in Atlas. But it doesn’t seem like they’ll be present at all for this season. Unless, it’s a case where our heroes run into them while out with the Polendinas.

Resuming my Mantlese Carnival idea, let’s say after the group finished watching the parade, the Polendinas lead them to an old-fashioned snazzy little joint whose taste in jazz music is as sweet as its food.

I couldn’t help but be reminded of jazz music and the blues by Pietro Polendina’s design and the way he talked. His sense of fashion is giving me mega New Orleans type of vibes. Like he walked straight out of the set for the Princess and the Frog.

Anyways, like I said, our heroes are treated to a night of music and dancing by the Polendinas but while out and about in Mantle, they also happen to run into none other than Neon Katt and Flynt Cole.

Like imagine the group enjoying a nice performance by a local jazz band in Mantle only to find out that one of the musicians is Flynt.

Neon is also there to either show Flynt support (as my headcanon is that the two are dating) or perhaps she’s part of the performance with him as a singer as she and Flynt deliver a sort of Jazz/Blues rendition of Neon’s classic theme. Why not, ey?

After briefly exchanging pleasantries and catching up with their ole pals from Vale, Flynt and Neon invite everyone to an underground Mantlese rave. So unfortunately for Pietro and Maria (who was his date/company for the night), the younglings end up ditching the old folk for a night of partying. Not that they minded. Even Penny was allowed to join the group at the rave.

So as promised since V2, Neon and Flynt take JNR_RWBY plus Oscar and Penny out partying. As a side note, I’m not sure if Oscar would even be allowed to set foot inside a club given his age as a minor. Like I can just imagine Oscar, innocent as ever like the country munchkin that he is, walking up to the club bouncer only to be immediately barred from entering for being both underage and looking the part. Like would you believe Oscar is actually his age given his short stature and baby face?  

As a matter of fact, the only way I can see Oscar being allowed inside of a rave is if a) he faked his age by having one of Flynt and Neon’s friends hack into Atlas’ s system and alter his birth date by two years (since I’m imagining Atlas using electronic ID scans that instantly verifies a person’s personal records by just scanning them on the spot) or b) Flynt and Neon pulls some strings to have Oscar allowed in as they’re known regulars of the club. Why not?

So the group are out having a grand ole time, and while enjoying themselves Ruby and Penny sort of skedaddle for a bit up to a private place where they can just talk to one another. Since y’know…it’s been so long since they shared a chat since one of them was presumed to be dead and all. Anyways, it’s during their talk that Ruby noticed something peculiar about Penny’s behaviour.

She keeps recalling memories of times she and Ruby shared in excruciating detail. But that’s not the part that threw Ruby off. No matter how many times the Silver Eyed huntress attempted to deviate the conversation and get Penny to talk her more about how she’s been doing since what happened at the Vytal Festival, Penny kept reverting back to recanting the same stories.

The hunch I had in mind here is: What if…Penny 2.0 is actually a copy of original Penny. Rather than being a soul mimicking human nature from within a mechanical body, it’s more a machine operating purely from memories that were transferred to it from its old former self.

When we first met Penny, while the implications of her being an humanoid were clear as day from the instant she first bumped into RWBY (I mean I certainly called that she was a robot from day one), you could also still tell that there was something remotely human in nature about Penny. I got that sense the first time Penny revealed to Ruby that she wasn't a real girl. You heard the strong tinge of genuine sadness in her voice as she said it which was what made her friendship with Ruby all the more pure. Their bond was wholesome and important to each other inspire of only knowing one another for a short space of time.

And when Penny died in V3, you didn't feel as if it was a machine being destroyed. You actively felt like a character---a real person died. We, as the audience, got to feel the same sense of sadness that Ruby Rose felt watching her dear friend die before her very eyes after failing to save her in time.

Ruby failed to protect Penny (and eventually Pyrhha too) which was what made her answer to Maria’s question in V6 all the more meaningful.

She wishes to master control of her Silver Eyes, not just for the sake of being able to vanquish the Grimm but for the sake of protecting the people who matter most to her---her friends and family. The people who love her as much as she loves them.

This also kind of presents another reason why I’m conflicted on Penny’s return. Penny being back all fixed and good as new as if the Fall of Beacon didn’t happen kind of puts a bit of a damper on Ruby’s trauma as a result of what happened. It’s one of those things that made me question why show Ruby suffering from flashbacks of her friends’ deaths just to have said friend return good as new.

As we saw during her ‘Indomitable’ moment in V6, thinking about Penny and her death caused Ruby to lose focus. Yes Ruby managed to summon her light to petrify the Leviathan. But not before using Jinn to buy her some time so she can concentrate and let’s also not forget that Ruby’s power didn’t work.

While she succeeded in petrifying the Leviathan, she failed to kill it. This to me was a clear indicator that Ruby hasn’t full mastered her unique power and still has much to grow. A detail that I was relieved the CRWBY kept since I never felt like Ruby’s indomitable moment was rightfully earned so it almost felt like a waste of a good moment, in my opinion

I’m probably in the minority here when I say this but I actually disliked Ruby’s Indomitable scene from V6. As I said, it wasn’t properly earned and that took me out of the whole moment.

Instead of watching Ruby go through an arc of learning to fully master control of her newfound abilities, struggling at first but also learning more about herself and her heritage in the process building up to this grandiose moment where she finally perfects her power.

Instead we spent two whole seasons with our little red rose being written to be rather neglectful of her eyes, never once further questioning its mysterious origins; not even when in the face of the very person who told the last person who first told Ruby about her eyes.

Ruby learnt about the Silver Eyes from Qrow during the finale of V3. Qrow, on the other hand, said he learnt about the Silver Eyed Warriors from Ozpin. Ruby had her chance to ask Oz for more on the Silver Eyes at any point during V5 or even V6. Instead the Writers have her question everything but her Silver Eyes…despite showing her using it again later in the season during the Battle of Haven.

It is such a darn shame that Maria Calavera was only brought in for V6. I honestly feel like her character and role as Silver Eyed mentor to Ruby should’ve been better utilized as early as V4. 

Instead I was left feeling that Maria’s presence in Ruby’s development was made irrelevant especially by the end of V6 when Ruby had her big brain idea to use her Silver Eyes on the Leviathan…despite having zero prior training. I don’t think that’s how progress is supposed to work? 

And let’s not forget the fact that Ruby has only known Maria for only four days since the entirety of V6 (and the start of V7) only took place over the course of four days in RWBY’s timeline.

So yeah, Ruby’s Mastery of her Silver Eyes has much more groundwork to do and I have a feeling the Writers brought Penny back to aid with that

Did they necessarily have to though? No not really. As a matter of fact, Penny 2.0 unfortunately falls into the ball park of how the Writers brought back Neopolitan in V6 for me. While it’s nice to see Penny again, I didn’t honestly need her back especially since her death was framed in such a symbolic way to the plot in terms of how it affected Ruby’s character these past few seasons. Now I’m left questioning what the whole point of all of that was.

Listen, I’m not trying to imply that bringing Penny back was a terrible idea on the Writers’ part. I’m more saying, I don’t 100% buy into it. Not exactly.

I honestly feel there is going to be a catch with this. The Writers can’t have Penny’s death still affecting Ruby only to just magically have that trauma and mental block magically disappear now that she’s back in the picture. They’re not gonna do that, right? 

They’re not gonna undo that big detail established in previous seasons, right?  I mean…it’s not like they’ve done things like this before, right?

Nuh uh. Not buying it. Hence my theory on Ruby having a moment with Penny 2.0 only to realize that she’s not exactly all good as new as she was proclaimed to be.

Either that or it’s a case where even though Penny is back, Ruby herself can’t seem to look past the past.

She can’t seem to shake the haunting fact that she once saw her friend die before her very eyes because she failed to help her. Like I’d figure that that memory would still remain as a nightmarish lingering thought in Ruby’s psyche. Right?

Like imagine this scene. A scenario where Ruby and Penny are out exploring Mantle together, catching up only for Penny to be called back to the line of duty when another alert of Grimm attacking the city blares it ugly head. As Penny flies off to do her thing, Ruby follows her below on foot determined to help her out. When Ruby finds Penny, she arrives just in time to see her down a couple of Saybers from attacking a couple of fleeing civilians.

Ruby calls out to Penny. Penny, in turn, spins around to wave to Ruby. But while Penny is distracted greeting her friend, she is neglectful of one stray Sayber that suddenly comes in from behind and slashes Penny straight through the chest.

Ruby looks on in complete horror as Penny 2.0 is once again cut down in front of her; the nightmares of her decapitation at the Vytal Festival resurfacing. And for a moment, Ruby freezes on the spot. She doesn’t even react as the same Sayber charges at her.

But before the Sayber could get to Ruby, it’s killed before it could lay a bloody talon on her. As Ruby looks up  slowly from her daze at her saviour , she sees that it was Penny. In spite of her damage, Penny was still functioning enough to protect Ruby.

Let’s say, for the sake of the scene, the rest of the heroes---JNR_WBY plus Oscar were down in Mantle too and overheard all the commotion from the emergency alarms; all seven huntsmen and huntresses arriving at the scene to aid with the rescue. 

Let’s say the others had seen what happened to Penny and immediately came to her side to quickly gather up her severed parts to take her immediately to Dr. Polendina so he could repair his daughter. 

As the others handled Penny, let’s say…Oscar approaches Ruby as he noticed the disturbed expression on her face. Oscar urges Ruby on the matter of them taking Penny to her father as quickly as possible. At first, Ruby reacts like she didn’t hear Oscar; apparently too lost in her own wild thoughts. It wasn’t until Oscar gently touched Ruby’s shoulder did she finally stir out of her stupor. Long story short, the heroes manage to get Penny 2.0 to Pietro in time. 

After studying her injuries, Pietro reports to everyone that Penny was going to be fine. She may be off duty for a couple of days given that he’ll need time to repair her. 

But beyond that, Pietro assured the group that Penny was going to make a speedy recovery; much to the relief of the heroes. But in spite of hearing the good news, this doesn’t serve to uplift Ruby’s mood and her bothered expression of deep concern is still apparent on her face. Even as JNPR_RWBY depart from the Polendina residence to return up to Atlas. 

As the group look to head back home, Oscar is the one to take notice of Ruby’s awkward silence. 

 I say Oscar of all people rather than her teammates or Yang since it’s been highlighted before that when Ruby is feeling pressured or looks distressed in some shape or form, Oscar is quick to pick up on that.

He’s also been shown to act out on trying to help Ruby in this type of emotional scenario. This is why should we ever get a moment like this in the canon, I can picture it being another prime chance for the Writers to show Oscar being an emotional crutch for Ruby.

If a scene like this ever comes to pass in the series, the way I see it going down is Oscar confronting Ruby again about Penny and the two sharing another heart to heart moment where he gets her to open up about her true feelings. I’ve been itching for another V5 Dojo-esque scene between the Rosebuds.

I’d love to see another example of Oscar helping Ruby through another emotional rut; particularly if it involves Penny.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So to conclude…

I guess the main point I’m really trying to get at here with this musing post is that I don’t believe Ruby’s arc revolving around her grievances about Penny’s death is over. Even with her being back in her life.

It can’t be. Just because Penny was repaired and has returned doesn’t instantly erase the fact that she did die nor does it erase Ruby’s memory and clear trauma over it.  At least, I hope that’s not how the Writers are going to portray it. Ruby’s thing is that she sees Penny as a real girl. She sees her as a person. But Penny isn’t entirely a real person.

She possesses a soul of her own, yes (and I’m curious to learn the origins of said soul) but she’s also a machine. Her body is fake but at her core, she is a living being. Sort of---really need an origin episode on how Penny was created and where Atlas and Ironwood got the soul that’s a part of her.

Did it come from the Relic of Creation? Was Penny an unexpected by-product of the Relic’s power; brought to life by an experiment tested by Ironwood using the Relic of Creation? 

Is the Relic of Creation the RWBY equivalent of the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio? Is the being of the Relic of Creation inspired by the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio? 

Who knows? These are all questions I’m looking forward to this season answering for me.

But in the meantime, in regards to Ruby’s bond with Penny, We got to see Ruby grow to care for Penny as a person and what’s interesting to note is that Ruby has always valued Penny as more human than machine.

Keeping that in mind, picture if part of Ruby’s story with Penny for V7 is her leaning to accept that Penny isn’t a real person. This is why I like my theorized scene of having Ruby witness Penny 2.0 being cut down again; highlighting she’s still not over what happened at Beacon. Imagine if that creates an issue for Ruby where she actively feels uncomfortable at the thought of losing Penny time and time again since she can’t handle watching her friend getting destroyed in spite of the fact that she’s a machine that’s built to protect humanity.

I know this concept probably sounds rather farfetched based on how I’m describing it. However, that’s how I’m choosing to look at it; for now. Perhaps the story for this season might change my mind on that. We’ll see.

Anyways, that’s all I have to say on this subject matter for today. For the most part, I hope I managed to answer your question, Jade. As usual, please let me know if I did. I’m always open to hearing other FNDM fam members thoughts on my thoughts on my thoughts.

Similar to you, this squiggle meister is also left pondering why the Writers’ brought back Penny. It’s actually kind of sad that I have to question it. If I wasn’t so skeptical over the CRWBY Writers’ writing decisions given their recent track record then I wouldn’t be questioning this decision so much.

Right now my theories are my best bet at understanding why this decision was made for the plot but that don’t mean that that will be the case in the canon. I’m praying there is a good narrative reason for Penny’s return and that it wasn’t done as a gimmick to hype up the fans for the new season---y’know bringing back another fan favourite character just because they thought it would be quote, unquote, ‘cool to do’.

I didn’t like that that was the rationale for Neo’s return, as mentioned in the V6 DVD Commentary, and I’d be equally peeved if that was the rationale for Penny’s. Then again, maybe I’m getting too ahead of myself here. We’re only one episode into V7 so let’s not jump the gun. Let’s just be patient and wait and see what the rest of the season brings, ya?

Until then, hope you at least enjoyed my new musing post.

More Squiggles’ RWBY Content

 ~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#rwby #penny polendina #ruby rose #oscar pine #rwby theories #rwby volume 7 theories #rwby volume 7 spoilers #rwby volume 7 #rwby musings

[thenorthernrecords]

A New Presence

It had been several months since the battle which Jacob Adair and his allies had retaken Wexford. The first few months were difficult for everyone; they collected the bodies of their loved ones, and mourned them, then they proceeded to begin not only repairs, but preparations as well. After many grueling months, it seemed that Wexford was finally looking like a city once again. The inn had been rebuilt, and was now being managed by the late inn keeper’s nephew, Finnegan. The death of his uncle had hit Finn hard, but wishing to give his grieving aunt a purpose to keep going, he put all of his energy into their family’s inn. Once it was up and running, his aunt finally seemed to pull herself together again.

That particular night was going as usual. Patrons began to fill in the inn, looking for drink after a long day. Finnegan was helping his aunt tend to the people there. While his aunt and the inn maids served food, he served the drink. The night was going slow and mundane, at least until a light whistle caught his attention.

In front of the bar top, whistling at him was Slania Sargenis, who nodded to those who greeted her once she walked in. However, her attention returned unto him, and there was a warm smile.

“Hello Finn, how’s the night going?” She asked, leaning her forearms unto the bar top as she leaned in.

As she leaned in, Finn looked past her, and saw several eyes upon her form. It was not unknown to him that there was talk of several men wishing to ask Slania for her hand in marriage once things finally settled down, but none had dared to ask her yet. He wondered if it was because they were also intimidated by the Red haired woman, or the rumors of he and Slania being a secret item stopped them. While Finn could not deny that Slania was an attractive woman, he also did not wish to ruin the strong, platonic friendship they had developed. But, if the rumor stopped some idiot from wasting his good friend’s time, he didn’t mind it.

“Boring,” Finn said dryly, crossing her arms and glaring at the drunk men who quickly looked away from Slania once they noticed him, “Long night with these drunken idiots. How about you, you lookin’ to eat?”

“Already ate. Jacob had a pig cooked and invited me,” Slania replied, patting her stomach heartily, “I was wondering if you have that bottle you promised me.”

Finn had begun to brew his own drink, and had promised Slania that upon the next full moon, she’d had one of the first bottles. It seemed she must have counted down the days, because she was right on schedule. Finnegan smirked, and told her to wait there. He went to the back, fetched a bottle, and brought it to her.

“I hope you like it. I know it’s not as good as the drinks of Connacht, but it should be decent,” Finnegan told her, handing her the bottle, “Are you going to drink that tonight?”

“I plan to! I’ll let you know what’s my judgement,” Slania replied, cradling the bottle like a babe, “Thank you, Finn. It’s been such a long week, and I need a good drink.”

“I bet. Haven’t gotten any  more letters from your... sibling, have you?” Finn asked, careful not to mention her brother’s name.

“No... but I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Slania told him, and the conflicted look on her face confirmed that she was indeed unsure, “In fact, this is all truly the calm before the terrible storm. But I’m... relieved at least we have a chance to take a breath.”

“Agreed. This is the first time I’ve felt things have been tranquil, and despite the future dangers, I think we all needed it,” Finn said, glancing up at his busy aunt for a moment before looking back at Slania, “Don’t go drinking that all at once.”

He pointed at the bottle, and she scoffed jokingly.

“Oh please. I could handle it. But, don’t worry, I’m sharing this with a friend.” Slania reassured him, smiling again.

He gave her a half smile and nodded, “Fine. But if you come back tomorrow with a terrible headache, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

Slania waved her hand at him dismissively, and as she walked away, she eventually waved, “Good night Finn.”

“Good night, Lani,” He said, and as soon as she left, his sour mood made it’s return. He wished she had stayed, as her company was better than the drunken people around him.

Several minutes later, he was writing down things that needed to be restocked. He was so focused, that he didn’t notice a form nervously make its way through the inn, and towards him. Eventually, he heard a woman’s nervous voice.

“...Hello? Are you the inn keeper?”

What stood out to him was the accent. He couldn’t tell where it was from. It did remind him of Estefania the inn maid’s accent, but it was a little different and this woman spoke more fluently. He looked up and there stood a beautiful woman, looking uneasy and anxious. She had long, sandy brown hair, tied back in a ponytail, light olive skin, and big, brown eyes that seemed sad to him for some reason. She wore a grey cloak that concealed her slim figure, and a bag slung on her shoulder that she held close to her with her free hand.

“...Yes. I am. Can I help you?” He asked, trying to adjust his tone so it would sound more approachable. The woman seemed worried of her surroundings, and if he could guess, she was probably a foreigner who probably heard of the past events that had occurred there.

He didn’t blame her for being worried.

“Hello. I need a room. Is there one available?” She asked quietly, tugging the large cloak she wore closer to her form.

“Luckily for you, there’s one left open. How long do you plan on staying?”

The woman put an object on the bar top, and slid it to him. He looked down and saw it was a golden bracelet with blue gems. It looked expensive, with exotic designs. He lifted a brow, and grew curious as to where this foreign woman hailed from.

“For a while. I do not know how much that is worth, but I have more if it’s needed,” She said and her tone told him that she wasn’t lying.

“Alright. I’ll find out how much it is, and let you know how many nights that buys you.” Finnegan nodded.

He fished the room’s key and stood up, beckoning the woman to follow him upstairs.

As they walked, he glanced back. The woman looked relieved, which he guessed was because she would get her own room. He too was glad there was a room -- he didn’t wish to leave her with the drunkards downstairs.

He got to the room, and opened it to her. “If you need anything, just come downstairs and ask me, or an inn maid. My aunt will be around. She’s the older woman with the brown curly hair.”

He began to walk away to give her privacy, but the woman stepped forward, clearly wishing to say something else to him. So, he paused.

“Thank you so much,” The woman said in such an earnest, grateful tone, that he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for some reason.

“Ah, it was... nothing, truly. It seems you’re not from around these parts, so I’m sure you’ve been traveling. I hope you find rest here.” He said sincerely, which prompted the woman to finally smile.

“I hope so too. Ah, a question ... is Slania Sargenis to be found here?”

Now he grew even more curious. How did she know Slania? Why was she looking for her? Slania didn’t mention a foreign friend who would be arriving to see her. He grew a little suspicious, but something seemed honest about the woman, so he was more curious than suspicious. He did not know where Slania and her friend were, plus he didn’t even know which friend she was with at the moment, so he shook his head.

“You just missed her. She’s away for the night, I’m afraid, but if you want, I will tell her someone’s looking for her. What’s your name, so I can let her know?”

The woman seemed hesitant at first, so Finn added, “I’m a good friend of Slania’s, and you must understand, as her friend, I want her to be aware of anything concerning her right away, especially after all that has happened in these parts.”

“Of course, I understand,” The woman sighed, that sad look returning again briefly “...Just tell her Hana is here and wishes to see her. She’ll know who I am.”

“Hana ... alright, Hana. I’ll let her know as soon as I see her, which should be soon. Have a good night, and remember, just let me know if you need anything.”

Hana nodded, “Thank you again, and have a good night.... erm--”

“Finnegan. Call me Finn if it’s easier to remember.” He said with a small smile.

Hana smiled in return, looking a lot less nervous than before,  “Alright, Finnegan. Good night.”

As he turned around, she closed the door. He went down the stairs and back behind the bar top, back to what he as doing before.

But, eventually, he glanced towards the stairs, curiosity remaining on his mind throughout the night.

#Finnegan #a new challenger approaches! #well not a challenger but you get it #finn

[mrneighbourlove]

Burnt Heart: Ch 7. Burning Bridges, Repairing Bridges

“It's a fine day

People open windows

They leave their houses just for a short while

They walk by the grass

And they look at the grass

They look at the sky

It's going to be a fine night tonight

It's going to be a fine day tomorrow.”

The Emperor sang in a soothing tone. Most would describe it as elegant. In her heart, she felt a sadness to it, however, her smile didn’t falter as she gardened with her sweet Eleonora. The flowers were in a lush bloom, cherry blossoms and natural white and red roses coming to life. Every moment she was able to spend with her and Annuciata was a special occasion. You couldn’t waste the time of others.

Eleonora was much like her mother in many ways. She appreciated finery, she loved to dance, and she had a weakness for anything fluffy and cute. The princess thought her mother's mechanical creations were wonderful, but Eleonora preferred to study chemistry. She loved experimenting in the laboratory and more than once, had burned off her eyebrows. The princess was determined to create an alternate source of fuel besides coal or gas. It would be cheaper but more effective. Yet, in her spare time, when her mother would take her to the Kikai Empire, it was lovely to be outside and experiencing the culture of the Hasai.

However, Elenora was just as she was in the garden as in the lab.

Messy.

Covered in dirt from head to foot, the princess was still digging deeper.

"I just know there is a bigger root I could take a tissue sample from down here..." Eleonora said, half of her upper body in the ground. "Are you sure there's not a Zemlja anywhere near here? This would be over in a pinch if I had one of them helping me. Since my elder brother and sister are too scared to get dirt under their nails." She emphasized the last part, attempting to use reverse psychology to obtain what she wanted. She was sneaky that way. "Or was it worms they are afraid of?"

"Dear, you're going to ruin your new dress." Annuciata sighed, knowing how persistent her daughter could be. "You can get a servant to do that."

"But the root has to be perfect!"

“I believe Athena is afraid of sharks, and Griffith of spiders, scorpions and the common house fly.” Zannah smiled fondly, clipping thorns from a rose bush.

The royal twins were adults themselves now, with obligations and responsibilities in the Empire. Neither had found a potential lover, despite being in their early thirties now. Whenever their sister from another mother came to visit, they were quick to follow. At the current moment, the twins sat on lounging chairs, frowning at Zannah outing them.

“It’s just that they have huge teeth and the blackest eyes.”

“Little sister, you never know what you can find underground in the dirt.”

Zannah looked down in the hole, patting Eleonora’s head. “Just behind your foot. Try there my deer.”

"Pfft, sharks have teeth and creepy crawlers creep, you should be afraid of something more lethal like the hemorrhagic fever. Not going to find anything but worms and bugs in dirt. Maybe an ancient skeleton if I'm lucky." Eleonora snickered and then tried the area her Godmother suggested. She dug around the area of the exposed root, and examined the thickness. "Hm... this might do. These plants produce a lot of oils I could possibly utilize."

"Darling, you're seventeen, you don't have to worry about creating an efficient biofuel right now, save that until you're old and gray." Annuciata assured her daughter. "You'll have time later. For now, spend some time with Athena and Griffith. I'm sure they'd love to play a game of hide and seek with you."

"You mean hide and 'cheat' they always sniff me out." Eleonora pouted with her arms crossed, looking just like her mother when she did so. "It's not fair."

“Oh, come now. It’s just that we’ve had more practice.” Griffith sat up, putting his magazine on new Danjur trends down.

“How about we share a nice cold beverage once we’re done together. After that, we can go down to the ocean and look at the coral together. That’s alright with you, right mother?”

When Zannah looked to Athena and saw the light bounce off her face, she faltered, if only for a moment, before she composed another smile. “As long as you three remain safe.”

"What about the shaaarks? Someone might be scared." Eleonora teased her sister with a wide grin.

"El, be nice to your sister."

"What? She teases me all the time for being a nerd."

"Nerds will rule the world one day, dear, go have fun."

"All right, all right, I guess I just got one last thing to say..." The princess took a sip of lemonade and then declared, "The last one there is a rotten petri-culture!" Eleonora darted away toward the ocean.

"... where does she get all that energy?" Annuciata watched as Athena and Griffith bounded off after their sister. "I wonder if she got into my coffee stash when I wasn't looking."

“Perhaps she did.” Zannah rose from the ground, watching the three bound away chasing and playfully calling each other names. Taking off her sunflower hat, Zannah looked up at the sun, deep breaths in and out.

"It is nice to be able to do this." Annuciata rose from her chair under the umbrella and joined Zannah on the grass, gracefully sweeping her skirts to the side. "Though I do think there is something we must discuss, my love. Sooner rather than later, despite the bitterness it brings."

“Yes.” Zannah spoke the word in a tone that made peace with what conversation was to come, that it would be foolish to run from it. Didn’t mean she liked it though.

"I'm getting older, love." Annuciata told Zannah, kissing her hand. "My golden locks are turning white and my skin is wrinkling. I'm 47 this year. Soon, Eleonora will be of age to take the throne in Danjur. Hopefully, she will find someone who has made me as happy as you have... but I must not forget the reality of the situation." She took a small breath, and said. "I will die before you."

Zannah turned to her lover, not a wrinkle on her face, nor an imperfection in her black hair. The only change in her emerald skin was a sad frown etched into her features. Her golden eyes were heavy and wet. Age it seemed, was no friend of hers. “You will die. Then my children will die. Then Eleonora will die. Except me.”

"Are you truly going to live forever?" Annuciata asked Zannah. "Or will you one day join me in death?"

“Are you asking if I would commit suicide for you my love?” Zannah faked a smile, trying to reassure herself. “I truly don’t know if I’ll ever age again. When I was told the possibility of becoming a warrior that time could not kill or poison me beyond my prime, I relished the idea. I was still but a child. I thought I could use that kind of life to make sure my Empire was rebuilt to its proper glory. But... when I look at my own daughter, when I see my image like I would a mirror, I know a life being a god made flesh all alone is too high a punishment. I wish you could join me, that I’d hold you forever and have a partner through the most difficult of hardships time would throw at me. Otherwise... well, I don’t think we know many who would willingly try to kill me in open combat. Perhaps your parting gift in this life would to have me poisoned so that I might join you.” Zannah laughed darkly, the idea heartbreaking, but a possibility.

"Stop being silly, you know I would never ask a thing nor carry out such a horrid plan." Annuciata slapped Zannah with her fan on the arm. "What I meant was, would you be stuck here forever or would you join me in the world of spirits? It would be awfully lonely without you there... and I would love for you to meet my parents." She told the Empress. "My father and mother were total opposites. She was a fierce navy captain; he was a mega-dork. But they were so happy together. I can still remember my mother being so strong to defeat her opponents at sparring, but gentle enough to braid my hair." The Queen of Danjur smiled softly. "And my father always listened to my ideas. He helped me build the first Land Rider prototype, you know. It fell apart, but we tried again and again until we got it right. They have each other in the spirit world... I'd like to have you one day."

“I think I’d end up in whoever was correct in what version of a hell exists.” Zannah looked to the heavens, reaching a hand out. “I’ve done... so many things wrong. Killed people, betrayed friendships, be charged with war crimes. And although I’m filled with regret now for the lives I’ve taken and betrayed, there’s no salvation or retribution for me. I can feel my brothers taunting me, waiting for me in the afterlife.” Zannah continued on, not giving a chance for Annuciata to immediately rebuttal. “I love my people. I love my family of five with you, Eleonora, Tod, and the twins. I used power for the betterment of this Empire, to give peace of mind to the Hasai people. Every act of sacrifice I made on my soul, I did for all of them. But with you all gone... what will I become? What will I do if left with my power? This burning fire deep within. I wish there was a way to keep you here with me, but you are an angel who will eventually need to return to heaven. I’m afraid of living, but I’m also afraid of death and what lies beyond for me.”

"... everyone has done something wrong in this lifetime, Zannah. There are others out there who have made worse mistakes." Annuciata reminded her lover. "Though sometimes, there are a few that can be redeemed. Surely you know this too. Perhaps your love for your family, for me, for Eleonora... perhaps that can help you see that sometimes all you need is someone to believe in you."

“But that won’t stop you from eventually leaving me. I’ll never grow old with you. I’ll never---"

“My emperor.” A servant suddenly interrupted them, respectfully bowing. “T0-D has returned. But he’s brought along Sir Kahli instead of the runaway. He wishes to speak to you.”

Zannah looked at the servant with blank eyes that traveled through him. It seemed that one of her sins finally caught up to her. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Tell him to wait for me in the throne room.”

"Do you need me to accompany you, love?" Annuciata asked Zannah. "I'd be happy to help in any way I can."

“I should have a witness to keep me from doing any public violence I suppose.” Zannah rose from her garden floor, choosing to get changed into more formal wear for the occasion.

When she entered the throne room, Kahli wasn’t bowing. His eyes trembled with fury looking at her. In return, she gazed at him with shallow indifference. “Kahli. I don’t recall calling for you. Though it has been a while since we spoke face to face.”

“You haven’t aged a day... it’s over Zannah. Zizi knows about Grievous. She knows how you used me to revive the Waku. She knows how you used my life debt to further the growth of the Empire. It nearly tore us apart. Perhaps the damage has been done and the final crack is yet to come. Regardless, I demand you release me from the rest of my debt.”

“Demand? From your Emperor?”

Annuciata followed Zannah, making sure to smooth her skirts. Though as soon as the Queen of Danjur saw Kahli and the look on his face, she sensed something was amiss. Kahli avoided the Kikai Empire like the plague unless Zannah called him. It was all due to the debt... and she had an inkling that the secret was no longer just that; a secret.

“I tire of our relationship Zannah. I have a family to look after. Have I not given you enough?”

“A debt is a debt Kahli.” Zannah tilted her head at him, curious on what she should do with him. “You still have hundreds of flowers to help bloom into this world Kahli. The red garden of the Waku needs to be filled.”

"Dear," Annuciata placed her hand on top of Zannah's. She thought of the situation unraveling quickly. If Kahli's family knew, then Zizi knew. If news of this incident reached the royals, it could have a damaging effect on the trust between the kingdoms. While there would never be war, there would be much more strife... strife that had just been mended a short time ago. "Perhaps Kahli is right."

“And I just what, let him walk away free?” Zannah studied Kahli, wondering just what to do to him. A warrior of his caliber free from her machinations. He provided life to her... but perhaps his blood could be more of use. “Hmmm. I suppose. Zarazu would be angry, but she wouldn’t dare leave negotiations from this little saga. However, if we push the issue further after the truth has been discovered, I couldn’t be so sure what would follow. Kahli, do you truly want to be free of this debt to me? Free of the reach of the Empire?”

“I do.”

“I can think of only one substitute. You too, hold the blood line of the Dragon. You hold the fire of Exodrum. Give me that power.”

Kahli blinked, taking a few steps back. “What?”

“Give me the power you once acquired for the sake of your wife. Give it to me for her continued support. With it, I will provide for the Empire continuing from where you will now walk away.”

"Love, are you sure that is a good idea?" Annuciata appeared to be concerned. Such a power had already made Zannah unable to age. While she was still very much mortal in some ways, the Queen of Danjur had heard stories since she was little of too much power corrupting others. Power was a drug that could cause madness. That was the last thing she wanted for her lover.

“I will take the flame to the volcano to Fel. There, he will watch over its power until I know what to do with it.” She looked at Kahli, who seemed apprehensive about it. “I’m not going to use it to burn the world. Your tension is unwarranted.”

"Perhaps a sealed agreement would ease you further, Kahli? Ensure both parties kept their word?" Annuciata suggested to the Waku and to Zannah. "Bound by magic?"

“Another life debt? Another bond?” Kahli was unsure.

“What’s to be scared of Kahli. I promise to not use your flame to burn away the world. And if you agree, you and your family will never have to worry about political ties to the Empire so long as you wish for.”

"... Kahli, do you truly want to wish to be free?"

His family needed him. He knew Zannah always had a long game in mind, and he’d lose a great amount of power, but this is what he wanted. “I do.”

Zannah walked towards Kahli, extending a hand to his chest. “Kahli. Exodrum as my witness, you willingly release the flame of destruction within you. Your blood of the dragon, is gone.”

Lightning struck through Kahli’s body, illuminating his skeleton. Screaming upwards, fire roared from his mouth from the agony he felt. Zannah was taken aback by the reaction, feeling her wrists blaze with pain herself suddenly. Slowly stepping away from Kahli, a great flame flickered in her palm, whistling loudly and drawing every lit lantern in the room into it. The Waku fell backwards, his chest sizzling with agony. From the flame, two eyes looked down at Zannah, silent in its judgement of Kahli and herself. What’s more, it’s gaze spoke silently to the Emperor. Zannah took two steps back, struggling to keep the flame in control.

“It’s so warm. So powerful. The flame of a god. Yes. Oh yes. I can see so many possibilities from it. Annuciata. I could use this to make you immortal. Our children immortal. I could use it to annihilate those who bring darkness upon the world. If I don’t do something with this fire, it might kill everyone here. I want- it wants me to absorb it.”

Kahli's throat was completely parched, unable to speak. His eyes were dry, constantly blinking to see once more. Despite this pain, he heard the whisper of the fire that only the Hasai could hear.

“You disregard my power? Pathetic you welp. Perhaps the Waku aren't the champions I needed. Perhaps this Ocho is what I need for my chosen champion, as she always has been. My Dorami. No Hasai has taken two sacred flames though. Let us see if she burns.”

"Love," Annuciata was spooked by all this talk of magic and most definitely power. While the Queen of Danjur adored her lover, she also knew how seductive power could be to the Empress. She had to make sure nothing else would risk corrupting her. "You already have what you need. Give back this ability to heavens... please."

Zannah heard a voice warmer than the fire. No, it wasn’t quite that simple. The voice was softer, while the fire burned in her palm. Turning to Annuciata, Zannah made the choice when she saw the look in her eye. “I choose... I choose to release the flame of Exodrum.”

The eyes in the fire flared, and a voice echoed in her mind. “Interesting. You might not want additional power, but I will not take back my flame. This fire shall be housed in another.”

The flame howled loudly, exploding outwards, flying out a window in a torrent, disappearing from the palace. Zannah screamed, her right hand receiving three-degree burns. All of the light was taken from the room for a few moments, before the natural light of the sun illuminated everyone to normal levels.

The sudden burst of energy from the flames sent Annuciata topping backwards, skirts flying over her head. Once the air had settled, she huffed, pushing lace and petticoats from her face, downward to cover her legs. Her styled hair was an absolute mess, and she was not happy about it. Yet, the sulking would have to wait. She quickly got to her feet, noticing one heel was missing. Sighing in frustration, she kicked off the other and hurried down the few steps to her lover.

"Zannah?! Zannah, I heard you scream!"

“God- FUCK!” The Emperor keeled over in agony, her burns crushing her will to immediately stand.

Kahli had never seen Zannah in such pain before, and would never imagine seeing her on his knees. Perhaps his wife was channeling her spirit in him, because an audible smirk left his being.

Zannah looked at Kahli looking down at her, laughing at her. With her rage, she used her good arm, launching a lightning bolt at him. The electricity sent him skidding across the floor after hitting him in chest. “Don’t. You. Mock me.”

Kahli twitched from her electricity. His body felt far more brittle now.

As he stood, the Emperor was already on her feet, clutching her injured hand.

“The debt has been settled. Leave my palace.”

"EEEEEK!" Annuciata crouched down and covered her head when Zannah released a sudden burst of lightning. "Fuck a steam engine, was that really necessary?!" She could feel the static electricity in the air. Thankfully she was not wearing any jewelry which would conduct electricity. Rushing over to Zannah, Annuciata took off her giant cord of silk from her corset. It was the only material soft enough not to injure the hand further. Carefully, she started to wrap her lover's hand. "Hold still, I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but we have to keep it covered to prevent infection---hold still."

“It was. God. My hand. My fucking hand.” Zannah leaned against Annuciata as Kahli limped out of the Empire.

"Shh, shh, now, we'll get a healer in here and fix your hand." Annuciata was a tiny thing compared to Zannah, but she still had strong legs. All those ballet lessons were certainly paying off now. She supported her lover's weight, and tried to keep her mind occupied. "After all, it is imperative that it is healed, how else will you give me one of those wondrous massages?"

“Yes. I will recover. This pain is nothing.” With the odd moan of pain, Zannah continued onwards to retreat and lick her wounds.

~

Kahli flew back on a Wyvern provided by the Empire. Would be the last ride he’d take from them if he could help it. It would be about dinner now in Hyrule, the sun painting the sky in orange and purples. At his home, Kahli could only make it to the lounge chair on the deck before needing to collapse from exhaustion. No food all day and injuries would break down even the strongest men.

The whole family was outside near the fire pit. Keira, ever being the bubbly one, suggested that it was high time to teach Grivy how to make delicious s'mores. However, Urboro walked back inside to get another pitcher of juice for her younger siblings when she noticed the front door was open... just a bit. Curious, she went to close it when she noticed her father through the window and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"SWEET FUCK---Dad! What the hell?! Why didn't you call for someone?!" She yanked open the door, and went to him. "What happened?!"

“Hey sweetie. Watch your language.” Kahli had zero energy to scold her on her swearing. “It’s done. It’s over.”

"This situation calls for swearing, you look like shit." Urboro then yelled.

"Manaco! Ahusaka! Someone get their ass out here, Dad's back!"

Both the eldest sons came crashing through the house to the front porch.

"Dad! What happened?!"

"Mom's been worried sick!!!"

“Where is Zizi? Is she safe? Is she alright?” Kahli looked at his sons, trying to stand, but failing.

"WHOA!" Manaco and Ahusaka both reached out at the same time to catch their father. "Worry about Mom in a minute. We'll patch you up before she sees you like this."

"I would call for Aunt Zolori but she's all the way in Uskar." Urboro bit her lip, thinking. "Unless you two could share your fire with him?"

"I could give him some of my energy and Manaco could do the same."

“Do it.” Kahli growled with the intensity of lion as they channeled their energy into his body. Is scaring and burnt flesh started to mend together. “Good. Now let me see your mother.”

"Mom's resting, so we ate outside not to disturb her." Urboro told their father with a small frown. "Mom isn't... she's not well."

"She's not sick, she's just..." Ahusaka struggled to find the correct words. "I don't know what's wrong. We think she's depressed. Or so heartbroken, she's made herself sick."

“Please look after your younger siblings.” Kahli stood up, making his way to his bedroom to see his wife.

"Dad, please just..." Manaco called after his father quietly. "... take it slow? For Mom's sake?"

“I know.” Once his children dispersed, Kahli slowly opened the door. “Zizi. I kept my promise.”

"... how can I be sure you're not a ghost?" Zizi was lying on the bed, on her side, covered with the largest fur in the house for warmth. "Come back to haunt me?"

Kahli crawled into bed with her, carefully spooning her. “A ghost can’t be warm.”

"... are you still angry with me?"

“No. You’ll never have to deal with the Empire again. I will never have to deal with them again.”

"Zannah won't come after you? After us? Our family?" Zizi sounded unsure. Personally, she would not put it past the Emperor to do such a thing. "... and the others..."

“No. And guess what. The process to break off our bond burnt her right hand to crisp. The pain brought her to knees as I stood over her, if only for a moment.”

"... so she can be brought to her knees." Zizi then said. "She should stay there if she knows what is good for her."

“Zizi... I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for what part I played in this treachery.”

"I know you are." Zizi held his hand tightly. "I know... and you shouldn't have to suffer anymore because of it due to me."

“Zizi. Can you look at me? Please?”

Zizi slowly turned on the bed to face her husband. It was evident she had been crying. Her eyes were all puffy and cheeks were red. She looked so tired and guilt was written on her face.

“You didn’t cause any true pain. It was me.” Kahli ran a hand through her dreadlocks. “I hurt you. And I know I damaged a lot of trust between us. I promise I will do everything to repay it. How do you feel about adopting Grievous?”

"I shouldn't have lashed out at you... I'm sorry I hurt you too." Zizi snuggled closer to her husband, so glad that he was not dead and safe at home. She still felt unsure, but decided that those feelings could be dealt with later. For now, she wanted to be content with what she had and not about the wrongdoings against her. "Trust can be rebuilt, but it will take time. I do not like secrets, Kahli. They always make everything so much more complicated than it needs to be." She sighed, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "No more secrets, Kahli... please."

However, at his question, Zizi did look up at him. "Grivy? ... I thought we already did. In a way."

“With my blessing now.” Kahli didn’t kiss his wife, but he held her. She would be the one the choose if that bridge would be crossed. “I can make something happy out of this mess.”

"If I didn't know any better, you want another child." Zizi raised an eyebrow at her husband. "We have fifteen. Ten girls, five boys. Well... eleven girls if you count Grivy now."

“I just want to give this girl a happy life if she chooses to stay. And... I’m going to stay. Forever. Just give me time Zizi.” His body warmed hers, and he sighed. “Do you want me to go sleep at Manaco’s or on the couch for a start?”

"I think we both need time... but we need each other too." Zizi dismissed the suggestion. "No... just stay here. Keep me warm. I am tired, and have not slept well."

Kahli hugged her tightly. “I love you. I’ll be here to give you peace of mind.”

"I love you too..." Zizi closed her eyes, hoping that the warmth and comfort of her husband would allow pleasant dreams.

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/612496080371957760/burnt-heart-ch-6-trading-one-pain-for-another

Final Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/613696630305243136/burnt-heart-ch-8-what-comes-around 

Thank you for reading! Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse Shared work with @s-kinnaly

#crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #Kahli #Zizi #Hasai #Zannah #Annuciata #drama #comments appreciated!

[banditthewriter]

Whatever It Takes - 15 - Billy Russo

The end! I know we kind of rush through the end of the action, but I wanted the focus to stay on the relationship, not the thing with Rawlins. 

Thanks for going on this ride with me. I’ve had the idea for this fic in my head for almost a year and a half, so I’m glad to get it down finally!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists! Enjoy!

*****

It was almost twenty four hours later that Curtis got the call that things were settled. He crept out onto the porch while you and Karen waited impatiently in the living room. When he came back in, he was smiling as he gestured over his shoulder.

“Everything is good back in the city if you two are ready?”

Karen took the front seat while Curtis drove the car. You sat in the back but for the first half of the ride you leaned almost between the seats to listen to him explain how things had worked out.

They had gotten in touch with Rawlins and told him that they wanted to finish it once and for all. Told him to come alone, gave him a location. It didn’t surprise anyone that he didn’t show up alone but then again, they weren’t alone either.

The Homeland agents were there for about six hours before Rawlins and his guys showed up. They waited until Billy and Frank got there as the final send off before they dragged Rawlins and his people out in cuffs.

It all ended without any shots being fired. Rawlins would go away for the rest of his life, his people would either flip on him or serve time as well. It was over.

Once the story was told, Karen leaned in a little closer to ask questions. It was her investigative nature. Although she could never write anything about this, she still wanted to know everything. You fought back a smile as Curtis had to explain something for the second time.

It was done. Everything was tied up with a bow. It meant that Karen and Frank could move on, maybe actually get married. It also meant that you and Billy could actually become something real.

That’s what you wanted. Hell, you’d wanted it almost from the beginning, but now you weren’t sure you could go back to being friends. If he’d changed his mind in the last twenty four hours, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

Curtis brought the two you to Frank and Karen’s place since Billy’s apartment building was flocked with electricians and construction workers to repair the damage from the elevator. Karen was out of the car before it had fully stopped, launching herself at Frank and letting him spin her around. Their laughter made a smile creep onto your face.

“You gonna go greet your man or you want me to make one last lap around the block?”

You shot a look up to Curtis who was grinning at you before you opened the door to get out of the car. You barely had a chance to do more than stand up straight before someone was right there. His hands were on your face, tugging you in for a kiss that stole your breath away.

When he pulled back, Billy was grinning so wide you were worried he was going to pop a stitch.

“How about that date?”

Your answer was to lean in for another kiss.

------

Things had to find a new normal. You and Billy had settled into a routine during your fake relationship but now it was real. It meant spending the night with each other, kissing until one or both of you were out of breath. It meant being late to work or meetings with the charity because Billy couldn’t keep his hands off of you. It meant dragging him back into bed by his tie when he tried to leave early.

You’d never been this happy before. The fake relationship had been for show, but the friendship the two of you had cultivated had been real. And that grew into this.

He took you on dates but it wasn’t just for show anymore. It wasn’t just going to events for your respective jobs, but to the movies or to dinner.

Anvil was being rebuilt, a new location that would look better than the last. Billy split his attention between you and the company but you never felt neglected.

It was one of those mornings when you didn’t have to be to work but Billy had a meeting with contractors. He spent ten minutes kissing you in bed, another ten minutes kissing you in the kitchen, and then about five minutes in the open doorway.

You had a thought about convincing him to meet with the contractors later when someone cleared their throat out on the sidewalk. You both pulled away to see who had interrupted your goodbye.

Connor looked like someone had just squirted lemon juice into an open wound. He wore khakis and a button up and yup, that was a sweater vest.

Seriously. What’d you see in this guy?

“Can I help you Braxton?”

Billy seemed completely unbothered by his presence. He nuzzled against your neck to hide his smirk and you pinched his side when you realized he was just riling Connor up.

“I came by to see Y/N,” Connor said defensively.

You scoffed.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to leave me alone the last time you came by and tried to stir up shit,” you said as you reached down to grab Billy’s hands, a subtle show that he hadn’t succeeded in tearing the two of you apart. “I’m not interested in getting back together with you, I’m not interested in being friends with you. The only thing that interests me about you is the idea of you never speaking to me again. That’s very interesting to me.”

Billy wrapped his arm around your waist, not bothering to hide his smirk this time. Connor shifted uneasily. You could tell he was trying to figure out how to come back out on top.

“You don’t think she’ll stay with someone that looks like that, do you? She’ll get tired of you.”

You got defensive, wanted to tear into Connor, but Billy didn’t even tense up. That was one thing he didn’t worry about, not with you.

“You can leave now Braxton,” Billy said as he released your hand to making a shooing gesture. “You’re really not welcome here.”

Connor opened his mouth uselessly before he turned to stomp off. You hoped this would be the last time he came by. Maybe he finally got the message.

You leaned in to kiss Billy but he held up one finger and turned around to face the direction Connor went. He went down a few of the steps before he called Connor’s name to get his attention. Once he turned, Billy straightened his shoulders and gave him an intimidating stare.

“The next time you want to spread lies and try to fuck with someone’s relationship, you might want to watch yourself. Why would I want anyone else when I’ve got her? A real man doesn’t fuck around, know what I mean? And if you run your mouth, it might look like you want confrontation.”

It was enough to send Connor running to his car with his tail between his legs. You stepped down onto the step that Billy had stopped on. You wrapped your arms around his neck and shook your head when he tried to give you an innocent look.

“You just had to get that dig in, didn’t you?”

He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours gently.

“His loss is definitely my gain,” he breathed, eyes closed and a content smile on his lips. “I’d thank him if I didn’t want to punch him so much.”

You laughed and leaned in for another kiss.

Billy was definitely going to be late.

------

Things moved on from there. You and Billy became a pretty cohesive unit. Marcia was happy that he was back in the picture because she knew how happy he made you. Your boss was happy because it meant your work got better.

There were questions. People asked you about his scars sometimes. They all heard about the explosion at Anvil, but no one knew that it was an attack. Everyone assumed it was a gas line and you went with it. It wasn’t like they’d believe the other version anyways.

The scars never bothered you. It had taken a few weeks when you and Billy had first gotten together for you to convince him that you didn’t care about them. Your only care was that he wasn’t in pain, but he assured you that the pain was mostly gone at that point.

When the stitches were out and the cuts had started to turn into scars, you spent night after night kissing each inch of the scars. Of course at some point he’d have enough and roll the two of you over so that he could touch you the way he wanted to, but you always wanted him to know that you didn’t mind the scars. They became a part of him as much as the scar on his shoulder or the one on his stomach from the attack or the other various scars that littered his body.

It meant that he was a survivor. It meant that he was alive. You weren’t ever going to be disgusted by those scars.

You checked your email while Billy messed around in the kitchen. It was his turn to cook and he hadn’t let you distract him with the promise of kitchen sex. Apparently he wanted to treat you well tonight.

An email from Marcia had come in recently. You clicked on it and skimmed over it quickly. Then you scrolled back up and read it again.

“Hey babe, did you know Bart was going to donate to Safe Harbor?” You looked over the back of the sectional to where Billy poked his head around the kitchen. You held up your phone and repeated the question. “Did you know Bart was going to donate to Safe Harbor House? Marcia just said that we got a huge donation from him.”

He shrugged his shoulder and came in, a towel thrown over his shoulder. He braced his hands on the back of the sectional so that he could read the email over your shoulder.

“I knew he was raised in foster homes like us,” he said as he shrugged a shoulder. “I told him that Safe Harbor was important to you and me too. Guess he decided he wanted to support it.”

Ever since Billy had signed a few contracts with General Keller and a few other organizations that Bart had a hand in, they had become pretty good friends. You were touched by Bart’s generosity and made a note in your phone to write a personalized thank you to him.

Billy leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“C’mon, dinner’s ready.”

You got up and followed him into the kitchen. It wasn’t set up with candles or anything like that, but there were fresh flowers in a vase and the meal looked delicious.

You settled into your chair as he moved to other side. While you ate, you each talked about your day and made plans for the weekend. Billy promised that he was going to fix the door knob on the upstairs bathroom and you told him to think of any groceries you needed to add to the weekly delivery.

It wasn’t official that the two of you lived together, but he hadn’t slept at his apartment in months. You were half tempted to just request a change in address for him and surprise him with it.

“How’s Karen coming along with the wedding plans?”

You laughed and grabbed your drink.

“She’s basically just picking the first thing she sees. She says she doesn’t care about anything except finally becoming Mrs Castle.”

Frank had popped the question not long after everything had been finished with Rawlins. She’d been shocked silent, unable to actually answer at first. Apparently she had really convinced herself that it wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

But they were both ridiculously happy and you were happy for them.

“So you gonna tell me what all the mystery is about or do I have to guess?”

He laughed at that. After he put down his napkin, he stood up and approached your side of the table. He helped you stand and then wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Do you know what today is?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled as you tried to figure it out.

“It’s Friday?”

He laughed again, this time leaning in to kiss you. You hummed happily into the kiss, pressing closer to him. After a moment he pulled back and gave you a smile.

“One year ago today I ran into you at that gala.”

You thought back and sure enough, he was right. You gasped and looked up with him, a fond smiling growing over your lips.

“You remembered?”

He reached up to cup your cheek.

“Of course. It’s our anniversary,” he said with a wink as he guided you into a kiss. “I was reminded about the date and realized that it was coming up. I wanted to celebrate it.”

You sighed into another kiss, your arms tightening around his neck. Maybe you could convince him into kitchen sex with this new revelation.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips as you reached up to drag your fingers through his hair.

“Love you,” he replied easily, guiding you backwards until he could press you up against the counter.

Every time he said it felt like the first time. But you didn’t have a chance to get butterflies at the words. Instead your focus went to the way his fingers felt as he raised the hem of your shirt just a few inches.

It’d been a strange year, but you had to admit that it had also been the better than you could have ever imagined. A fake relationship turned into real love; the pain in between is what proved that it was going to last. If you could survive that, you knew that you both could survive anything the universe threw at you.

Both of you were better together. And both of you were willing to do whatever you had to do to make it work. 

X

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[7deadlycinderellas]

In the bleak midwinter

AO3 link

Despite the others no longer being a threat, it was still a long winter, and possibly the coldest Westeros had seen in living memory.

Even King’s Landing becomes blanketed in snow and ice, though not heavily enough to stop the carts coming in and out, the trade and struggle of its people, who’s memory of so recently being burned is still too close to the surface.

It’s King sits on his throne, as cold and unfeeling as the season.

Or so it’s citizens see.

Bran had been stuck as the cold and unfeeling raven for so long that it is easy to keep the face on, and let them believe that’s what he still is.

It’s only behind closed doors, with those closest to him. His hand, Tyrion Lannister, and the head of his Kingsguard, Ser Brienne of Tarth. The grand maester and his wife and children. It was only with these whom he felt he could let himself be seen, the Bran Stark who had been lost for so long.

It was better that way, Bran thought. No matter how overwhelmingly glad he is to have himself back, that’s not what Westeros needed from their King. They needed someone staid, unmovable. Someone without passion or anger or bloodlust. And if his manner was off putting, then maybe they would learn to only seek his aid when it was truly needed. And those times would come less and less often.

And maybe someday, they would not need him at all, and he could be done with all of this. They would realize they did not need a king to sit above them and decide what they needed. And that damned throne, and all the bloodshed it caused, could die with him.

He dreams, endlessly, of when that day will come.

But now, in the depths of winter, he sits upon his chilly throne, and stands stolid, the king of the ice and snow.

And sometimes, he finds himself in the Godswood. He doesn’t come here much now, not since that one sweet, far day, but today he locks his wheels underneath the still-red leaves of the weirwood, and checks on the others he holds dear.

There is, within the Red Keep, a room with two small beds which is on paper, Gilly’s. She has never slept there.

Right now, her and Sam sit at the desk in the grand Maester’s chambers, pouring over paperwork and whispering. Little Sam sits upon the bed, playing with his younger sister without a care.

“It’s a good idea,” Sam admits, “But I don’t know if people will go for it.”

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” Gilly insists, “You remember what it meant to me.”

Bran smiles. It had been the same day that they had asked him to come with them to the Godswood that they had told him of their plans.

 “It’s just there’s so much of this place that isn’t being used…” Sam had trailed off. This as true, the rebuilt Red Keep having whole wings which were not in use.

    “And really it isn’t fair for them to keep everything to themselves in Oldstown.” Gilly had added. Truthfully, Bran hadn’t felt any guilt at letting Sam break the maester’s vow. What happened in the Godswood was between the gods and them. It would never go down on paper, and Sam and Gilly knew it.

 But what did that matter to them?

And after, they sent little Sam, now nearly as tall as his father, out into the streets near the keep, to find the other children. And now, every moon or so, in one of the rebuilt buildings near a gate that goes mostly unguarded, scores of children meet, boys and girls, street rats and merchant’s children alike. They reach the keep leaving their footsteps in the snow, and wearing their thickest wool, and come to learn their letters and their numbers, and how to tie a snare and a bowline.

And, for now, they are thinking and planning about what else they could teach them.

Ser Brienne is on guard duty this night. She stands her perch with poise. Bran sometimes wonders if she had ever dreamed of this life, even if she never spoke of it. It was a coveted position, but one that was doomed to loneliness. Sometimes he thinks he should release her, allow to travel North to serve Sansa again, that they might both have a friend. Selfishly, he knows he depends too much on her.

In his own chambers in the tower of the Hand (though much smaller than the one previous), Tyrion Lannister writes a letter.

The friendship that lingered between the Hand and his former wife was truly a sight to behold. Perhaps the man, having lost what was left of his own family, clung to something that might not have been perfect, but was honest in it’s own way. It seemed Tyrion, much like Bran, often feared Sansa was lonely in Winterfell.

But the truth is, Sansa is too busy to be lonely.

Even in the depths of frozen winter, the North did not grind to a halt. Roads still had to be cleared, animals fed and watered, stores kept an eye on. And the Queen in the North presided over all of this.

And on it’s own, the North can thrive.

Tonight, Sansa is sitting by the fire in her solar, reading. Her hair hangs loose down her back and in her night dress, she is in a state no one but those closest to her has ever seen. Tomorrow she will be taking petitions, and then finding accommodations for a group of orphans.

Orphans have been a special problem in the north it turns out. So many died in the war for the dawn, they are everywhere. And it’s not just the number, it’s that so much still needs to be done. Repairs are ongoing, even this nearly ten years later.

It had been the first decree Sansa had made as queen. Orphaned children would be placed in apprenticeships, cost paid by Winterfell, and would be placed either with families or allowed to shelter in groups. No children would die huddling for warmth on a village street while Sansa was Queen in the North. Sometimes she thinks of what Jon told her once, about how many groups of the Free Folk treated the children as if they belonged to all of them, and wonders if there was anything to convince her northerners to take this view.

But tonight, the Queen simply reads a letter from the north, then snuffed out her candle and went to bed.

The letter she reads come from far north of Winterfell. Jon sent it from the last Free Folk settlement he had been to, the bird that carried it is huge and sharp-beaked; the only raven to travel north of the Wall.

Bran’s heart aches at the sight of his brother-cousin. Though the devastation has finally begun to fade from his eyes after all this time, his appearance still belies his self-imposed exile: His hair has grown long, a beard accompanying it.

But despite his mental state, the others follow him. They have made their way across the land of beyond-the-wall. Sometimes they stop, clearing debris from a formerly abandoned village. They burn corpses, and rebuild dwellings, and sometimes some of them settle and don’t leave.

But Jon always does.

Bran wishes that sometime during the night, he will be able to reach out and touch Jon, the way he did Meera years ago, to remind him of those there are south of the wall, who do not want to lose him to the winter.

And finally, Bran lets himself drift east.

It doesn’t snow often at Storm’s End. The winters here primarily consist of the immense, stone castle being battered by endless storms that drop rain, and hail and wallop it with winds enough to scrap the skin from your face for days on end.

But inside the castle, the fires burn warm, there for anyone to dry off from being inside.

Two girls, black of hair and blue of eye, wring their plaited hair out over the hearth, talking over each other.

As their words reach the point of unintelligible, their mother approaches from behind them with a towel.

“All you would have to do is pull up your hoods and you wouldn’t get so wet,” Arya chides them, rolling her eyes at their cloaks, left on the ground by the door, “That is why they have them.”

And in the winter, the rain in the Stormlands could freeze a man to his bones, she doesn’t add.

Both girls ignore her, and instead launch into a roaring stream of what they’d done that day.

“We saw a dolphin!”

“That was a fish!”

“Nuh uh, it was too big!”

“Oh, and a rainbow over the sea-”

“Lysa pulled off my ribbon again”

“I did not! It fell!”

Arya shushes them both by picking their fallen cloaks and thrusting the wet wool in both of their arms.

“Lyra, go the forge and drag your father out. It’s past supper, and we’ve all missed it again. Lysa, go to the kitchen and have Polly have our food sent up to the solar by the guest wing.”

Lyra runs off without another word. Often taciturn like her father, only being around her twin brought the mischief out of her. Gendry couldn’t spend as much time in the forge as before, but whenever he had the extra time, he would sneak down, and his daughter would follow, fetching and moving things for him, and between the two of them they would pull tools and armor and other joys straight from the flames.

Lysa’s eyes go bugged out at her mother’s words.

“If we’re having supper, does that mean Maester Elric doesn’t need you anymore? The baby’s born?”

Arya’s barely perceptible nod causes Lysa to squeal loudly. Arya’s reaches out and grabs her by the plait before she can run off.

‘Hold onto your guts, giving birth is tiring. Leave your aunt be, and we’ll let you both meet your cousin tomorrow morning.”

Lysa pouts, but doesn’t race off. Lysa loved babies, and had been ecstatic to meet the aunt she hadn’t known she had, especially since she was going to have a tiny cousin to squeal over.

Gendry comes in from the forge still in his apron. He takes it off, goes to the basin and scrubs his hands clean with a thick paste before joining his wife and daughters.

Supper is a stew of salted fish and mussels, The storms wash plenty ashore even if the fisherman cannot always go out. Lysa happily chatters off stories the twins had been told of the krakens that must live in the waters.

Afterwards, Arya sends both the girls off to bed, where they go, sulkily.

Once they are gone, Gendry pulls on her hand towards their bed, and she pulls back.

“Gonna go check on Meera again.”

He sighs.

“I’m surprised Elric let you leave. He speaks of you like some kind of legend. “

“Well I did carry twins and walk around like normal until they day they came.”

“And then tried to get straight up the day after and resume your duties.”

Arya shrugs.

“Not like I could know as a child I would be good at having them.”

Just what she’d always want to be known for, Bran thought to himself. Forget the uncharted islands her ship and crew had found, or the new route to Essos they had mapped, all the Maester wanted to praise her for was the ease at which she bore children.

Sometimes, when the Maester says these things, Arya dreams of the places she’d been. The islands with spiky fruit that tasted of soft custard. The huge, long toothed beasts the sailors would spy, sunning themselves on rocks. The smell of spices on a bay, well before anything but the buildings can be seen on the horizon.

 She tells Gendry that she longs to go back. To smell the sea air and feel the boat shifting under her feet. Her three years at sea had reinvigorated her soul, let her breathe again and rediscover what joy was.

    She’d missed Gendry terribly though, and had told him so often. She’d kept her promise to come back for more than a single reason.

She wants to take him this time, wants to nestle underneath his arms in the hammock on deck, being rocked to sleep by the ocean waves. She wants to show him everything she had seen, that he might come alive again without the stress of being a Lord Paramount who had never once thought he would amount to anything.

 “Maybe in the future,” she says, “When the girls are older. We can leave all the paperwork and all the squabbling and all the disasters on the horizon and just sail off into the sunset.”

When he watches his nieces, Bran is very glad that one of the first royal decrees he had to sign was ushering in Dornish inheritance laws into use across Westeros. It hadn’t been a popular decision, especially when it came to heirs who were already being prepared to rule(and wouldn’t be ousted, his advisors assured them), but it was necessary. Every one of the six kingdoms would be left with at least one house wiped out of existence otherwise.

He makes it up to the guest wing before Arya does, but waits before she enters. When he does, he finds himself averting the memory. Watching Meera on the bed is like looking into the sun.

She’s only wearing a shift, her curls stuck to her scalp with sweat. The linen wrapped bundle she holds against her chest is quiet for the moment. She tilts her head up when Arya enters.

“You feel back in one piece yet?”

Meera snorts,

“I don’t think I have any bones left. I can’t believe Ser Davos’s wife did this seven times.”

“Nonsense,” Arya insists, “You did fine. Didn’t tear even a little.”

Meera’s expression mirrors Bran’s thought process. Of all the things the visions taught him, that such a thing was possible was on a long list of things he wished he could unsee.

Arya sits at the chair the maester had left beside the bed.

“I hadn’t asked. Did you have a name picked out?”

Meera nods.

“Catelyn. We- we were going to leave it for Sansa...but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards so…”

There’s a moment of silence for that. Arya reaches out to flick a finger on the tip of the child’s nose, causing her to make a gurgling sound and shift in Meera’s arms.

“I was thinking of sending one of the twins to Winterfell,” Arya admits, “But I can’t bear the thought of separating them. I might have to eventually.”

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell,” Meera recites.

Arya stares off, sadly, before changing the subject.

“There’s no rush. You can stay here until you’re back to normal and she’s sleeping more soundly.”

Meera’s eyes squeeze for a moment, as though she was blinking back tears.

“Thank you...I wasn’t sure what we were going to do when- and it wouldn’t have been safe to try and travel back home this time of winter.”

“Is that,” Arya asks, trying not to pry, “What you’re going to do when you leave? You’re going to return to Greywater Watch?”

Meera nods. One of Cat’s arms has come unwrapped, and she reaches up for her mother’s face.

“I owe my father an heir...and Bran can’t have a wife or an heir. That was the plan, and it seemed to be working out fine for us. We talked about it a lot the morning before I left. I’ll stay there for a bit though- at least long enough for him to write it down. Thanks to the power of royal decree, she will bear my name.”

To the world, Meera thought, on paper her daughter might as well be a bastard. She wouldn’t get to know her father until they were all older. The tears gathered in the corner of her eye breaks free, marking a path down her cheek. She nudges it away with her wrist.

“I wish I didn’t miss him so badly though.”

 Sam and Gilly had stood witness for them in the Godswood, without even a question.

    “You did the same for us,” Gilly insisted, “Of course we would.”

Sam had helped him from his chair, so he could sit in the snow beneath the weirwood, and Meera had knelt beside him. Sam had said the words, stumbling a bit, and needing Gilly to nudge and whisper to him. The only cloak available was the same plain wool one he wore everyday, which Meera replaced with her own so he would not shiver, despite not being a traditional part of the ceremony, it suited them.

They clasped hands and prayed, the light snow collecting on their clothes and hair.

It could never go down on paper, they all knew that. But the Godswood had seen more than one of these, and what went on between them and the gods was for them alone.

 Bran would be the last king of Westeros if he had anything to say about it. Maybe sometime in the future, the story would find it’s way out. The queen and princess who weren’t there.

“Seven years it took,” Meera commented, and Bran breaks away from the memory. “We were beginning to think the maesters were right and Bran couldn’t have children,”

Arya rolls her eyes.

“I never understood why they were so certain of that. Though it did take all seven years.”

“And it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying-”

“Hey, if you’re going to go down that alley, I’ll just leave you alone tonight.”

“I don’t think I am alone.”

Arya smirks.

“You think he’s doing the creepy all-seeing bit again?”

“I don’t think he can help it. When I’m not there it’s harder for him to stay in the moment.”

Arya leans foward and claps her on the shoulder.

“If he decides to show up in your dreams again, tell him hello from all of us.”

And with that, she leaves her good-sister and niece alone.

Meera plays with the bit of twine she still wears tied to her wrist. Catelyn is snuggled up against her chest, and she stares off into the candle lit darkness.

Then she tilts her eyes to the ceiling, sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes.

“Quit lingering,” she says out into the void, “Go to the day I left if you must. I’ll be back soon enough, if only for a little while.”

Bran’s mind chuckles deeply. He could never get much past her.

Opening his eyes for a moment in the Godswood, just long enough to make sure he hadn’t frozen in place, he takes her advice and slips back to the morning before she’d left for Storm’s End.

 Podrick and Brienne took turns on guarding his chamber at night, and then helping him get up in the morning before ending their watch. The chambermaid who handled this part of the keep didn’t come in until later in the morning. Being quite elderly, Bran wasn’t even entirely sure she knew when one monarch changed to the next.

    In practice, this meant Meera could stay with him most nights into the morning without arising whatever gossip would have made it’s way about the keep, even if her few things were kept in the mostly unused chamber that Gilly supposedly slept in. The castle staff was much smaller than it had been in years before, and most of them found King Bran as off putting as the citizens.

It was his favorite part of the day. It was somehow both so different, and just the same as the nights north of the wall when they’d had to sleep practically on top of each other for warmth.

This morning, in particular, he has one of her thighs on one shoulder and his mouth pressed up against her cunt.

One of her hands twists in his hair and he smiles against her.

He licks a stripe up the center of her, and is rewarded with a whisper of a moan. She’s not especially loud, so every one that he draws from her is a victory. He can do this as well as any man, legs or no legs, he thinks.

The visions had told him that some men thought this act below them. They were morons, Bran thought, morons who were missing out. He had long since ignored any knowledge gained in this area from the visions, and just let Meera show him what she’d figured out for herself, and they worked out the rest together.

Her moans get quicker and breathier as he works his tongue faster against her flesh. He feels her quiver and her hand wrench the handful of his hair as she comes underneath him.

And it’s with a satisfied smile, that he takes one of her hands she offers to help pull him back up to the head of the bed, and then gently rolls him onto his back.

“You make me feel selfish sometimes,” she says, head laid back, chest still heaving.

“Wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it,” he assures her. He reaches down to lay one hand of the small swell in her lower abdomen, “Believe it was you attempting to return the favor was what got us into this situation.”

With a twitch of her lips, she leans over and kisses him, before sliding one leg over and gently lowering herself onto him.

Her movements are languid, still tender from her earlier orgasm. She rests her forearms on his chest and watches him.

“It’s not fair that I have to leave already,” she says, pouting.

His hands find her waist.

“You’re too skinny, people will notice too fast.”

She sighs deeply.

“I know, but I still don’t want to.”

Even as her movements pick up speed again, she still won’t stop touching him, his shoulders, his chest. He had tried to explain to her before that most of the pleasure he got from this was watching her, but she never wanted to stand for it.

When she bends to press a kiss just below his ear, he whispers to her,

“My queen.”

His words make her twitch and clench, and when one hand wanders to twist a nipple, she comes again, softly this time.

Afterwards, when she lays on top of him, face against his chest, he tells her,

“Someday I’ll be able to leave. Someday this damned place won’t need a king anymore and we’ll be able to launch that godsdamned throne into the sea. Then I can come north with you and we can leave all of this behind.”

 It’s a good dream, they both agree. As much as they both know it’s just a dream, especially in the depths of winter.

“Your grace?” he hears in the Godswood, breaking him from his memory. It’s Podrick.

“It’s getting late your grace, are you ready to come in?”

Bran nods, and lets him push his chair through the snow and back into the keep.

And behind him, unnoticed, a snowdrop pokes it’s head through the ground.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #breera #gendrya #fic #happy xmas everybody

[canadian-riddler]

‘The Truck’

By Indiana

 Characters: Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane [Scriddler] (nothing really shippy if you like their banter but not the ship)

Synopsis: The Riddlermobile isn’t the only car Edward has in the shop.

 AO3  en francais

He was unsurprised that it was having problems.

Jonathan had driven this truck from Georgia to New Jersey many, many years ago.  He’d never put any effort into taking care of it, and it showed more and more as time went by.  

He’d forgotten the year by now and the model plaques had fallen off a while ago; the only indication he had of what type of vehicle it was was the faded Ford insignia attached to the grille.  It had once been some shade of royal blue – or so he thought it might have been – but was so thoroughly covered with dirt at this point and damaged with rust that it was now some vague shade of bluish-brown.  One of the rearview mirrors had a large piece missing, the metal there, too, smeared with rust.  The tailgate had gone missing some time ago and the bed of the truck had worn nearly through in some places.  The front bumper was more rust than metal by now and the rear one had been missing as far back as he could recall.

The interior of the truck had not fared much better.  He never really removed anything from it and so there was quite the collection of things scattered throughout.  Years-old receipts, parking tickets, and discarded clothes were just some of the more identifiable things he had piled on every available surface.  At some point the original owner had removed the seats and installed a bench that spanned the entirety of the cab – or perhaps it had been manufactured that way; Jonathan had never looked into it – and the leather had probably at one time been pristine but was now extensively cracked, the interior of the chair escaping in several places.  All in all, it rather looked as though he’d been living in it, rather than driving it.

Jonathan was not the most attentive driver either, to say the least.  Driving was an autonomous, uninteresting task he did not care much for. It had become even more unpleasant following the accident that had left his leg twisted and constantly painful. He now avoided driving at all costs, but he could not always shunt his errands to other people.  It had come as no surprise to him at all, therefore, when he had been rudely jarred from a flurry of plan-related thoughts by the fact that he had directed the truck into the back of the building containing his penthouse.  He’d taken a cursory look at the damage: it didn’t look all that good, but it still ran fine.  Until the next week, that was.  That was when his engine started making a whirring noise.  He thought he should probably get that looked into.  He couldn’t have his truck detonating on him right now.  It would be terribly inconvenient.

There was only one person he could go to with this.  They were also the last person in the world who wanted him to do such a thing.  Jonathan was skilled at persuading others in his favour, and this person in particular had never been difficult for him to sway. When he had a spare hour or so he made the trip across the city to their whereabouts that day: their own personal garage in which they were constructing some useless monstrosity or other.  He parked the truck near the front door and knocked on it.  If the occupant was not there, there would be some system in place to bring him forthwith. He had a few minutes to wait.

The second Edward opened the door, his face paled and he stepped away from it, shaking his head. His eyes were fixed behind Jonathan’s shoulder.

"No," he said immediately.  "Get that thing out of here.  I never wanted to see it again."

"Edward," Jonathan said, in as silken a tone as possible, "I only need a small favour."

"You have never asked a small favour in my life."  Edward pointed to the door.  "Get it out of here."

"Come now," Jonathan said, moving forward enough he could slide his hand around Edward's shoulders.  "Surely you have a little time to spare for an old friend."

"We aren't friends at the moment, and our friendship will remain tenuous until you get that thing out of my sight."

"You know why I came to you, don't you?"

"The cheap labour, no doubt."

That was true, but he couldn't convince Edward with a reason like that.  "You're the only one I trust to do it properly."  The primary reason, in all honesty.  Edward was not even trained to do such things and yet he would do a more outstanding job than any lifelong practitioner of the trade.   He simply could not have anyone else repair it.

“No.”

“All right,” Jonathan said, removing his arm.  Edward eyed him with suspicion.

“Really.”

“Just come and look at it, then.  It will only take a moment.”

Edward inhaled, a long-suffering sigh via his nose, but he did follow.  Jonathan smiled to himself.  Edward’s curiosity ran far too deep in his blood for him to be able to resist a puzzle, even if it was one he did not particularly want to solve.

The other man stopped abruptly in front of the vehicle and closed his eyes.  “Do I want to know what happened here?” he asked.  Jonathan realised he was asking about the recently damaged grille.

“Since you’re asking… no, I doubt you do.”

Edward whisked off his glasses and produced a handkerchief, which he used to vigorously clean the lenses with.  “Have you killed anybody with this monstrosity?”

“Not that I know of.”

Edward snorted. “Never mind.  Turn it on.  Let’s see what you’ve done to it now.”

Jonathan opened the driver’s side and reached in, twisting the key in the ignition.  The engine immediately started whirring and Edward’s eyes went wide, his face seeming to drain entirely.

“No,” Edward said and he put his glasses back on and turned around.

“Where are you going?” Jonathan closed the door and closed the distance between them.

“I’m not fixing that. Get a new truck.”

“Edward,” Jonathan said, attempting to be cloying.  It must have worked because Edward didn’t enter the building.  “You know I can’t do that.”

“You need to.”

“Why can’t you fix it?”

“I can fix it!”  Edward turned around completely, and Jonathan saw with slight alarm that his fists were clenched.  He hadn’t meant to push him that far.  “You don’t know what’s wrong with it, do you?”

He wasn’t a mechanic.  “I believed it to be some issue with the engine.”

Edward’s laugh was short and bitter.  “No. It isn’t the engine, Jonathan. It’s the transmission.  To fix it I am going to have to remove the transmission, disassemble it, and replace the part that’s causing the problem, and then I will have to put it all back together again. Do you understand how much work that’s going to be for me?  I don’t even have a hoist to get the transmission out with!”

Jonathan had no idea what he was talking about.  “Can’t you just find a replacement transmission altogether?”

Edward groaned and pressed his face into his arms, folded atop the hood.  "No.  Believe you me, Jonathan, there aren’t any transmissions for this specific make and model of truck lying around for me to liberate.  This thing isn’t going to last much longer anyway.  It’s almost as old as you are.  Just relieve someone else of theirs and save us all a great deal of trouble. And by ‘us’ I mean the person who has to do all the labour here.  Namely me.”

"Don't be silly," Jonathan admonished falsely.  "You know very well I am over one hundred years old by now.  This vehicle is brand-new in comparison."

He did not miss the fact that Edward pressed his face away from Jonathan's view in an attempt to disguise his amusement.  He almost had him now.  Edward began rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses.

"Regardless. This is a badly-maintained truck from 1984.  I can only do so much more for it before it dissolves into a pile of rust as you attempt to force it through your errands.  Your transmission needs rebuilt and your shocks probably aren't actually doing anything at the moment.  And must I get started on the inside?  Really. Would it be so hard to clean it out once a decade?  I believe it still has the original hay inside it from the farm you stole it from."

"So you'll do it."

Edward ran his hands down his face.  “I hate you.”

Jonathan put a hand on his shoulder momentarily.  “I’m aware of that.”

Edward turned towards him, sighing and pocketing his hands.  He leaned against what remained of the front bumper.  "Yes.  But not in any timely fashion.  You're going to have to find another vehicle in the meantime.  I don't know how many hours I'm going to be able to squeeze out of my schedule to take care of this."

"Take as long as you need," Jonathan said, not at all affected by this news.  Once Edward had had time to think about it he would be unable to resist the call of what was, in effect, a physical conundrum waiting for him.  After he had disassembled the transmission it would be unlikely if he left the garage before seeing it repaired.  He set about leaving, their business concluded, until a thought occurred to him. "Edward?"

"I won't throw anything out," Edward droned resentfully.  That was thoughtful of him, but not associated with what he'd been about to say.

"I actually wanted to say thank you."

Edward said nothing to this, merely nodded at the ground as though it required all of his attention. Before Jonathan had quite made his exit Edward called out, "Jon."

He looked behind him.

"It's a long walk back to Chinatown."  He was doing his best to sound casual.  Jonathan nodded.

"Yes."

"Take one of the cars out back if you want," Edward told him, looking at the truck. "None of them are quite your style - nor mine, for that matter - but it will be better than nothing."

"That's quite generous," Jonathan responded politely.

Edward shrugged and turned to the robot who had been watching the whole conversation.  It may have been Alan.  Jonathan couldn't tell from this far away.  “Go find Nikola,” Edward said to – it must have been Alan, then. “We’re going to need him on this mess.”

Jonathan took one of the cars back to the penthouse without incident and in fact when he got upstairs he wondered how on earth he was going to know which car was his, given that he hadn’t taken note of the one he’d driven.  Oh well.  He’d figure it out when the time came.  It didn’t matter.  Edward had probably written the car off by now in the doubts he’d ever get it back the way he’d lent it out.  

He wasn’t wrong.

  Author’s note

Jonathan has a 1984 Ford F-150.  A Tumblr user named yellowcandy had Jonathan have a pickup truck in one of her fics and I ran wildly into the distance with this idea. I still haven’t come back with it.

I used to have a 2002 Ford Escape.  One day I turned it on and it started making this high-pitched whirring, squealing noise, and I was like ‘oh my god the engine is gonna explode’. When I tried to show it to someone it of course didn’t make the noise at all.  I took it to a mechanic and they told me my transmission was shot and it would be three grand to get a used one, and that was before installing it. Because I didn’t happen to have any genius supervillain BFFs that would reluctantly do me a favour (still don’t) and I had just paid for university and didn’t have enough to fix it, I just kept driving it like that (I was only really driving down the main street to work and back; I lived in a small town at the time).  One day I lost the ability to reverse (luckily, when I was parked somewhat in front of my house).  I never drove it again and had to scrap it shortly after.

#Riddler #Scarecrow #Scriddler #the Riddler #fanfic from Indy #fanfic

[sweetsunrayssr]

A Shrine - Gordon’s Garage

In Cameron’s Pilgrim I mentioned the Japanese shrine that Cameron talks about over the phone. Every twenty years the shrine is rebuilt with new material, looking the same as the original, but not actually being the original. Joe thinks it’s beautiful, while Cameron explains she believes people do it for how the process makes them feel, the doing of it. Following Cameron’s explanation of the Japanese shrine rebuilding, these shrines are physical manifestations and reminders of a process that the characters wish to repeat.

In this series, the process is not so much about building a computer, creating or playing a game, or achieving a business model. Those are all just a medium to these characters to connect with the people they want and need to connect with, even if they are not always aware of it. Ultimately inspiration comes down to the people you relate with and how curious you are about what is happening in the world.

Each pivotal character has a shrine, representing their connectivity to somebody who inspires and motivates them, and by the 4th season we can see a returning pattern of what they try to recreate and from the very beginning season 4 identifies to which location or “shrine” this is tied to. The bond they try to hold on to, reestablish or set-up with a particular person is automatically linked in their mind to a certain room or building in their memory.

Because a building or a place is durable and physical a “shrine” is easily mistaken as lasting and always perfect. In reality it is but a momentarily event when everything feels perfect and ideal. Other events and bonds are like the elements eroding at its perfection, and in the worst case scenario natural disasters or demolition teams with a wrecking ball. Each character is aware that their shrine is under possible threat at any given time, and tries to deal with this in their own particular way.  

This meta-analysis will limit itself to discussing Gordon’s Shrine.

THE GARAGE

We see the Japanese shrine in 4x05 in Pilgrim as Donna is transported to it with the avatar. Gordon’s lit up tent in the camping scene in 4x01 has the same warmth, and thus is a visual “shrine identifier” moment from Gordon’s POV. Gordon has a memory vision of Joe leafing the IBM BIOS binder in his garage morphed into the camping environment, right before we are treated to that beautiful image of Gordon’s warmly lit tent.

When in 4x05 Gordon asks Joe what he saw for the future in the garage back then, Joe  explains was how it would feel to work with him, “the doing of it”, and how that was more important to him than the actual end result. So, we could have no clearer comparison of what Gordon tries to recreate whenever he works together with Joe: that doing-of-it feeling with Joe in Gordon’s garage ten years ago, an idealized moment full of potential when their bond was just perfect.

SEASON 2: SURROGATES

Throughout the seasons we learn that the garage was always important to Gordon, even before he met Joe. He grew up in an autoshop, and he made his first computer project for Comdex 81 with Donna in his garage. So, the garage was always a shrine location to Gordon, but not until he reverse engineers the IBM chip for the BIOS with Joe does it become an ideal moment that he continues to seek, rebuild and re-enact in some way, and can only be perfect if Joe is his partner in it.

At the start of S2, after Cardiff is sold, Gordon intends to return to his garage, proclaiming it on TV even in an interview with the host no so incidentally called “Chip”. He intends to do it alone, but can’t help tell Joe in the elevator, who apathetically agrees that is what Gordon should do. Excited like a child, he orders several computers, sets them up, admiring the blank slate, but soon finds himself stuck. He can’t do it alone.

Since consciously Joe is still out of the question as a partner in that moment, Gordon reaches out to Donna and Mutiny instead, seeking a problem he can help solve for Mutiny (Tank Battle) and eventually writing Sonarys, which ends in disaster.

Simultaneously he reconciles with Joe on a personal level, enough for Joe to contact Gordon to help set up the Westgroup mainframe. Gordon sends Joe packing when this conversation occurs in Gordon’s living room, but he agrees to do it when meeting Joe in the garage parking lot.

Since it’s only a one-time deal, Gordon surrogates Joe with his Cardiff engineering team to build computers on demand. But again that fails, and on top of it he learns that Joe is moving to California with Sarah (again in the Westgroup garage). Gordon is so rattled that he can’t find his car anymore at a garage parking lot, gets lost, falls and is taken to the hospital. On the surface, Gordon’s breakdown seems amped by having business competition, but the whole breakdown occurs after he already discovered his rival is already total loss. And the doctor specifically stipulates to Donna that his breakdown in the garage parking lot was not related to his neurological disease, but purely psychological. Hence, Gordon’s arc in S2 emphasizes that Gordon’s well being and happiness relies on having a work & friendship relationship with Joe. He literally falls apart and is lost without Joe in his garage shrine.  

It is actually Joe’s visit to Gordon’s garage in the S2 finale to return the chip back to Gordon’s shrine that gives Gordon the fire to successfully transform himself from a hardware engineer in a world that is fast gearing to a virtual network world into a successful software coder: Gordon changes a few lines in the malignant Sonarys to turn it into an anti-virus cure. Except Gordon picked his family and Mutiny over working with Joe and learns that Joe built Macmillan Utility with Gordon’s program.

SEASON 3: ABSENT SHRINE

The entire shrine is destroyed, as there are no garage scenes for Gordon in S3. Throughout that season Gordon maintains that he does not want to work with Joe, not even if Joe offers him 70% of Macmillan Utility. He truly believes this and that is why we don’t see him in an actual garage.

When Joe gives Gordon credit and hands him a 20 million company, the two patch up their friendship and want to work together, but it proves impossible. There are various plot causes for it, but the visual absence of the garage-shrine is the tell. The browser project depends on Cameron and Joe isolates himself in the basement. Gordon may have built the network successfully by himself upstairs, but it is an empty success for Gordon with Joe in the basement. Callnect looks more like a Cardiff office floor than a garage, and Gordon was unfulfilled by that, as much as he was by the Giant-professional.

RE-ERECTED BY CAMERON

It is not until the opening scene of 4x04 that the garage shrine has been rebuilt for Gordon. Cameron uses it as a temporary autoshop when she brings her bike in and repairs it. In the same scene Haley inquires whether Scientology is a religion or a cult. A Comet is a returning object in space. And Joe and Gordon bond in the office agreeing with each other, absolutely content with what they have done. So, we have all the elements to identify a returned shrine moment: garage, a spiritual element, the name of a recurring event of the past, and Joe and Gordon being a bro-romance team all wrapped up in one scene.

Once the shrine is erected again, Gordon wants to preserve the shrine via maintaining control. Remember how he offered Joe 49% of Macmillan Utility in S3? Sure, giving Joe even 1% was a miracle, but that specific number shows how great a need Gordon has to control Joe. Another way he tries to have control over Joe is by wanting to keep the shrine exclusive for them alone. He does not want a third party influencing Joe, especially if they might pitch an idea to Joe that Gordon is not yet on board with, and then Gordon gets outvoted. Gordon has his gifts and talents, and a conservative reasonable voice to ground a development team is important, but he is also the person with the most limited view. He only truly innovates when being outvoted and all his excuses are thrown by the wayside.

An ever constant person he does not want around Joe is Cameron, but in S1 we also saw how obnoxious and insulting he was to Simon, and in S4 he’s just as wary of Haley being brought in initially. Sure, in S4, his need to keep Cameron out of the equation is not entirely selfish. He cares for Joe as a friend and he has witnessed him pine away in the basement for three years, for one reason only – Joe’s in love with her. And it is not even wrong that Gordon tries to look out for himself as well, when a miserable Joe usually means that Gordon is left out in the cold to muck around by himself.

What Gordon fails to account for is that he put the fuse in the dynamite in S1 when he made the unilateral decision to take out Cam’s OS. Nor does he recognize and is not fully aware how Cameron has been instrumental in re-erecting his garage shrine:Cameron advised Joe to give Gordon credit

Joe wouldn’t have been meticulously keeping all those post-its with urls if he had not been waiting for Cam.

Cam’s remark on how Joe would soon run out of post-its gave Joe the idea to index the web. Despite initially chastising Cam about this and remarking on it negatively to Donna over dinner, he’s now running a new company that he actually has nothing but fun in.

Cam helps Gordon see that Haley just want to spend time working with her father

Cam puts the dash on the T by bringing in her bike and actually making Comet a garage setting.

Joe’s complacent, cooperative and happy in a way he has never been before

When in 4x01 he tells Cameron it probably is for the best for Joe that their meeting at Gordon’s birthday party didn’t go so well, that’s ok. He’s just looking out for Joe. When later he tells her she was cruel to give Joe fire for the mountaintop unwittingly, Gordon may tell himself he’s just looking out for Joe, but that would be a lie. He’s upset with her, because she inspired Joe to a new idea and Gordon sees the signs that threaten the status quo. He is at least as out of line as Joe is in 4x05 about Katie to both Cam and Joe when he discovers their romance has been rekindled. Since Gordon cannot control who Joe chooses as a romantic partner (hell, Joe is 5 years his senior), his next step is to use passive aggressiveness against Cam’s presence at Comet, while Joe lights up like a Christmas tree with Cam in his lap checking out Rover’s HTML.

Initially, Cameron is not eager to get on board of the team and makes the adult and respectful decision to stay out of the business side. But the start of 4x04 was the moment where Cameron’s professional interest is piqued and she is right in her prediction that Comet will run into trouble once the web expands further (Rover would not be the sole company looking to solve “search”). If Gordon had not acted like a jerk to her in that scene, she probably would have ended up helping them. Instead, she bows out and respects Gordon’s wishes of business exclusivity. She has no hunger to develop a new computer game and physically stays away from Comet ever since, eventually leading to the circumstances at the start of 4x05. Joe and Cam have their actual first fight over Cam’s refusal to help them out for even two days. Even if Joe has no full scope on all of Cam’s reasons yet, he does instinctively identify Gordon as part of the issue. Worse, his best friend is not just keeping Cam away from Comet, but Gordon is having fun with his own lover at work. Joe lashes out to Gordon about Katie, because he’s envious.

MUTATED SHRINE

The volatile argument between Gordon and Joe reveals that Comet was turned into a playground by Joe’s initiative. Joe bought and wanted the air hockey. Joe’s probably also the person behind the pool table, the foosball, and the surfing competition. So, Joe turned the autoshop setting into S2 Mutiny. Just as we hardly need any outspoken explanation why Joe refused to leave the basement, screwing around with post-its (instead of Cam) for three years, we hardly need Joe to vocalize his subconscious motivation to make Comet’s work environment into a playground: he wants and needs Cameron there. 

Gordon’s objections to Cam being part of the professional equation and Cam respecting it and stay away from the place, leads to Joe mutating it into something else, as well as Cam using Bos’s plea for help to prove to herself she can write a brilliant algorithm, putting Rover one over Comet in the “competition” (which is actually a false competition: a guide of great websites is fun, but ultimately not the answer that a search engine is), and puts his relationship with both Joe and Haley in jeopardy.

SOLUTION?

Unless Gordon allows Joe the freedom to seek inspiration with a muse, his shrine is doomed for destruction once again. One of the possible solutions to allow Joe into bringing other partners into the shrine and still preserve a balance of opinions is for Gordon to bring in someone as well. In S1, Gordon brought in Donna for Comdex 83, and the Giant with Cam’s OS would have been a success if Donna and Gordon hadn’t been so careless with inside information that led to the Slingshot. In S4, Gordon’s bonding with Katie likely aims to do the same thing. Unfortunately it may already be too late. The seeds have been sown already.

Note: I will post other shrines for other characters as well, and point out how they may be self-sabotaging as well. So this meta-analysis does not have the intent to put it all on Gordon.

#halt and catch fire #meta-analysis #gordon clark #joe macmillan #garage #shrine #haley #cameron howe #OPs

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Love Like Lava, Epilogue

Notes: The final section of my story has completed, so it's time to doll out some thanks.

To my close pals for their wonderful friendship, ones who kept me going with their smiles - Boxlunches, Palooka, Chllstarr, Greta, friends old and new within the Mice Discord, without those last pushes I wouldn't be here!

Once again, a big thanks toward my great gal Angie, who is the co-creator of Millicent! And, by that line, Agalma too!

A special thanks towards Disney Diligent, who helped inspire/create the final look for Aphrodite Minnie.

As always, super ultra huge mega thanks to my fantastic editors, Drucilla and Blueshifted! Funny enough, this story seemed to create the most division between them, one adoring lines that the other insisted be kicked out! XD Thankfully I as the narcissistic writer get to ultimately choose =P But yes, these two put in hard work and great effort for my little hobby, and deserve all the praise in the world!

Finally, thank YOU, yes YOU, all of my fans for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and for ultimately enjoying this wild ride! It's definitely gone through some changes since I first bubbled the idea years ago - a simple romantic comedy turned into questions of loss and sense of purpose. I had to cut out a few ideas (at one point, I debated about a sideplot of Clarabelle as Medusa and Horace as her blind boyfriend), but I think in the end I came away with a better story overall. I hope you all had a good time, and I also hope you stick around for next lovey-dovey tale!

(... and apologies in advance to all the donald fans because yes I am absolutely going to kick him around again)

Summary: When it comes to legends and myths, the final curtain never rests. What can the love story between two unlikely immortals inspire for upcoming generations?

“You don't have to do this, you know.” Donald knew his statement was obvious, yet he felt a need to say it anyway. “You don't owe him anything... except maybe a kick to his almighty shin.”

“I know,” Mickey casually replied, finishing the last strikes with his hammer upon his project. “But when I had this in mind, it was for someone huge, and he's the only guy big enough to use it. Besides, I like makin' stuff for folks.”

“Oh, Mickey.” Minnie was sitting on his workbench, admiring him with a swooning sigh. “You've got such a big heart.”

“If you two are going to get all lovey-dovey,” Daisy warned, averting her eyes, “I'm out of here.”

One of the newly repaired Axelias came over to wipe away Mickey's sweat, and he gave her a smile. “Thanks, Axelia.”

“You-Are-Welcome-Welcome-Welcome.” This one had the newest feature, a movable mouth. It was still a work in process, so her smile was lopsided, but it was still a smile she chose to make.

Mickey brought the hammer down one last time, then decided he was finished, pulling back to admire his work. “What do you think?”

“Not bad, not bad at all.” Donald offered a thumbs-up, grinning with pride.

Daisy snickered. “I can't wait to hear the mortals' reaction when they see it for the first time.”

“It's positively perfect.” Minnie came up to kiss Mickey's cheek, and he chuckled. “Oh, Mickey, will you ever stop being amazing?”

“Only when you stop bein' cute as a button.” Mickey nuzzled his nose to hers, causing Minnie to giggle wildly.

“Guys, seriously, I'm gunna hurl.” Daisy pretended to gag with a finger in her mouth. “Look, can we get this over with already? The sooner we can drop it off, the sooner we can go sailing. The ocean misses us.”

Mickey laughed, and placed his hand on the project, his other hand steady on his walking stick. “Fine, let's get going! It's not going to deliver itself!”

Thus the four of them reappeared on Mount Olympus – it had been several months since they last touched the cloudy paradise. No, it didn't deserve them, but Mickey had ultimately decided he could grace them with his presence when he felt like it. It wouldn't be too often, but he found such joy in his creations that he wanted everyone to have them. They popped up near the rebuilt thrones of Hera and Zeus, now separated. Hera flinched when she saw them, ready to duck and hide if need be. Zeus grimaced until he saw the unusual glimmer in Mickey's hands.

“I have brought you a gift,” Mickey declared, his back tall and proud. “I want nothing in return. I call it... a lightning bolt!”

Zeus' eyes went as big as the planet itself, and he knelt down to take the mighty yellow arch in his hands. “Such electricity... such power... I have never felt anything so magnificent! I feel a thousand years younger!” He burst with glee, hoisting the mighty weapon above his head. It was the best toy he'd ever gotten, and he wanted to play with it right now. He opened the clouds with his hands, trying to find a good place to strike. “Maybe there, or, no wait, how about here? But there's good too...”

Hera eyed the group suspiciously. “You SAY you bring a GIFT, yet you want NOTHING? What MADNESS are you SPEAKING of?”

“Careful.” Mickey wagged a finger. “My girlfriend can kick your butt.” Hera promptly shut up, cowering from Minnie's gleeful grin. “Aw, naw, I meant it! And I want all of Mount Olympus to know that I'd be happy to craft them anythin' they want. I need projects to keep me busy.”

“And he's very good at everything he makes,” Minnie cooed, snuggling up to Mickey's free arm.

Nearby gods found themselves piqued by curiosity, and it was Fethry who dared to speak first. “Say, could I get new shoes? These ones keep molting their feathers!”

“I wouldn't mind a new vanity mirror,” Gladstone happened to comment.

Even Mortimer found himself wanting in on this. “Okay, if you're that good, maybe you can bring some new life to my goblets? If you can.”

Daisy groaned. “We're never going to go sailing at this rate.”

Donald put his arm around Daisy's shoulders. “Oh, how you suffer.”

Gods and goddesses began to line up in front of Mickey, asking for jewelry and armor and other trinkets. Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey saw Pete hiding behind one of his deformed statues, and he quickly retreated when he saw Minnie's eyes on him. Judging from the smell, he still hadn't fully recovered. But he would one day, and perhaps he'd foolishly try for revenge. There would always be people who didn't learn from their mistakes.

There would also always be people who became better from their mistakes. Mickey smiled at Minnie, but then blinked as he saw her licking her lips with a puzzled look. “Minnie? What is it?”

“Hm? … Oh, it's nothing. Just...” She shrugged. “I have the oddest craving for peaches again.”

That probably had to do with Goofy placing the finished carved peach in her temple, having felt for some reason that it was the right thing to do. He hadn't seen Minnie or any of his unusual friends in all those months, and while he missed them, he wouldn't allow his sadness to hold him back anymore. It was the last act he did in the village before he left for his trip around the world with Agalma, and with his newfound confidence, he also brought the story of Millicent, Agalma, Aphrodite, and himself to every shore. The story spread throughout the land, although a few creative individuals decided that Agalma was too lazy a name, and decided Galatea was far more suitable. It is the nature of stories to change, after all.

The stories of Zeus and Hera, of Hades and Persephone, of Hephaestus and Aphrodite also changed as the decades came and went, with some believing Persephone was Hades's prisoner, and others thinking Aphrodite saw Ares on the side. One day the history became legend, the stuff of fairy tales and impossibility. People no longer needed the gods, and thus couldn't believe they'd ever been around in the first place. Yet these stories stayed, inspiring generations in many ways – art, music, theater, and even morality for a few. Even though such tales couldn't possibly be true, they were still told and enjoyed, even in museums of the highest education.

That's where a young boy was admiring a carving of the mighty Hephaestus presenting a gift to the lovely Aphrodite, although the stone was so worn down it was impossible to tell what the gift was. The mouse boy smiled in admiration – so the Greeks and Romans believed even a powerful god could have been disabled? He looked down at his own legs, forever bound in a wheelchair, and felt an odd sense of pride. If Hephaestus could be capable of great things, maybe he could too. With a funny chuckle, he touched his wheels, ready to move on. But when he lifted his head, his jaw dropped in shock.

What a coincidence – the prettiest girl in his class, and who he had a gigantic crush on, was also in the museum, looking at a nearby vase depicting Persephone. What were the odds? The boy always wanted to talk to her, to have that melodious voice directed at him, but had also felt that because of his disability, he never had a chance. Yet... he glanced back at Hephaestus. If that guy could land the most beautiful goddess, the boy had no excuse not to try.

He cleared his throat. “Say, uh... hi there!”

The mouse girl blinked and turned around, equally surprised to see him. “Oh! I didn't know you were here too!”

She responded she responded she responded – CALM DOWN. “Uh, y-yeah! I love this exhibit.” Thank goodness the wheelchair was blocking her from seeing how hard his tail was wagging.

“Me too.” The girl giggled, nodding towards the vase. “These stories are so romantic! I just love them! Which one is your favorite?”

She wanted to know more about him she wanted – FOR REAL, CALM DOWN. The boy hoped he wasn't blushing as hard as he thought he was, pointing at the stone carving. “Well, uh, gee, I always thought Hephaestus was kinda neat. Even though his legs didn't work, he made gold servants and lightning bolts and all kind of nifty things.”

“Oooh, I love that story!” the girl squealed, walking over to see the carving closer. “And he won the heart of the fair Aphrodite! I bet they loved each other sooo much!”

“Yeah, me too.” The boy scratched his chin, wondering if there were gods since his luck had never been so good. “Say, uh...the cafe here ain't too bad! You... maybe... wanna grab some lunch together?”

The girl turned to face him slowly, her own delicate chinks pinking. “Really? … I'd love to!” She smiled shyly, hands curled up together. “You know, I've always wanted to tell you how great your art is.”

“W-what?” the boy stammered, his disbelief at new levels.

“Those drawings you're always making in class... I think they're really amazing! They're so lifelike! Do you think you could show me how to do it sometime?”

“YEAH! … I-I mean, yeah, sure, okay.” As long as she didn't know she was the subject of more than half of the things he drew, then he was fine with showing her his doodles. “I guess I could show you my sketchpad over lunch.”

“Great! Let's get going!” The girl took a step forward, but then hesitated. “Do you need help pushing your wheelchair?”

“Naw, I'm just fine,” the boy said, beginning to roll. “And, y'know, I'm glad you asked instead of doin' it right away. Folks see me like this and assume I can't do nothin'.”

“That's very unfair of them...but if I ever make you feel like that, please let me know.”

“Sure thing!” He smiled at her, and she smiled at him, and they began to exit the exhibit together.

But as they left, the boy could've sworn he saw the stone-faced Hephaestus smile. It must have been his imagination.

#disney #fanfic #love like lava #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #daisy duck

[woozletania]

Living with Rocket 2 (PTSD, GOTG slice of life, mild violence)

Author’s note: “Despite gradual improvement after joining the Guardians, Rocket's horrific past still bears down on him. Eventually something has to break, and unfortunately it's Rocket.”                   

Living with Rocket 2 By Strega

Ego had been hard on everyone.  Peter Quill had lost his father - arguably both his fathers, though if you asked him now Yondu was the only one he would acknowledge. Gamora had gone through a torturous reunion with her sister Nebula, Drax had been reminded once again of what he'd lost to Ronan, and their newest member, Mantis, had lost the only home and the only father she'd ever known. Even Groot had been tormented by the Ravagers and nearly crushed by Ego.

And Rocket?  Rocket had, very briefly, met someone who understood him. It had never happened before; his friendship with Groot aside, occasional mercenary team-ups had always been the closest he came to true friendship before meeting the Guardians, and even they didn't truly know him. Leaving Yondu behind and ordering the ship into orbit without his new friend or Peter had almost destroyed him. He had known one or both of them would die when he did it but someone had to give the order.  Someone had to save as many people as possible. Only the appearance of  a Ravager fleet to honor their lost comrade had pulled him out of a deep despair.

When they returned to the sad wreck of the Milano he threw himself into repairing the ship, sleeping only fitfully before moving on to the next task. Work kept his mind and his hands busy; there no was time to dwell on what had been lost.

His own small cabin had been completely blown away by the Sovereign attack, and rather to everyone's surprise the little raccoon proposed it not be rebuilt. The Milano, he said, needed a lifeboat, and over the course of the week and before Kraglin left to find a new crew he built one from components he liberated from the Ravager's much larger ship. The resulting craft was barely large enough for the crew but it was better than naked space.

The loss of one of their closet-sized crew cabins and the addition of Mantis to the crew presented them with a dilemma: where would everyone sleep?  There were open bunks in the thruway on either side of the engines and Drax promptly volunteered to take one so Mantis would have a room of her own.  Rocket and Groot, needing only a small space, would curl up wherever the raccoon was working, often after the little tree dragged the raccoon a pillow or blanket to lie on.

It was probably coincidence that Rocket often chose to curl up at the end of the sofa in the common area. It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that if someone happened by they would most likely sit for a bit and pet the sleeping raccoon. Everyone knew not to try to pet him unless they didn't mind risking a finger or two to his fangs. He couldn't abide being treated like an animal and he'd let you know that if you tried it. But if you found him sleeping you could stroke his fur and feel the tension in his little body ease until he settled down to a better sleep. If he didn't know about it then being petted was no insult.

That was probably how he rationalized it, anyway.  He couldn't admit that the only reason he hadn't woken up screaming for months was that Peter stopped by almost every night to pet him as he shivered through another nightmare.  Half the time he awoke when Peter showed up but lay there pretending to be asleep, and he'd deny even to himself that those moments of human kindness were the brightest spots in his day.

He was a broken little thing under all the bluster and Rocket didn't know, or chose not to know, that Quill's nocturnal visits were no secret.  Even Mantis knew within a day of arriving on the ship how hurt he was and that Peter had something to do with keeping him reasonably functional.

It was having friends that did it. Before, when it was only Groot, he had built a hard shell around his pain and fear that kept the terrors at bay. Then Groot died and the new version of  his friend needed care and attention, on top of him suddenly being close to people he genuinely cared about.  The softening of his heart brought the old nightmares back again. He'd lie there shivering, dreaming, remembering the scalpels and the cool dispassionate voices of the scientists as they ripped off an arm or leg, or split his torso open, crammed him full of cybernetics and stitched him back together again. They didn't dare risk anesthesia, he remembered them saying.  Too many subjects died under the knife when the dosage was a trifle wrong. Test subjects were expensive. That the Uplift process meant they were cutting open a conscious, thinking creature didn't matter.  Profit was everything.

It was the memory of cold blades slicing into his flesh that woke him screaming.  But that hadn't happened for months now and sleeping curled up in a careful chosen public place wasn't asking to be petted.  If it happened and he didn't wake up and bite you that was good fortune for everyone concerned.

So instead of Peter always stumbling from his cabin around midnight to soothe the traumatized raccoon it might be anyone at any time of the day, depending on his work schedule,whenever and wherever he happened to be sleeping.

Slowly he healed. Slowly, over the weeks, the nightmares came less often as the hole inside him finally began to fill with friendship. Sleeping in the open was a good deal for everyone; they got to pet him, which even Gamora liked to do through she'd deny it, and he got to pretend it wasn't happening.

There was still a core of fear and misery in his furry little chest, though, and naturally it was Mantis who exposed it.

One evening a few weeks after Ego the ship was all but repaired and Rocket was sound asleep on the end of the sofa as usual. Since he snapped at Mantis at their first encounter she had been the least likely to stop and pet him as he slept, but she'd seen others doing it. This time she sat next to him, put her hand on his furry shoulder and frowned.

Mantis was alien, new to the crew and a powerful empath. Her entire function as Ego's servant had been to soothe her master's troubled mind and though Rocket was a quarter the mass of Ego's human form and an Uplifted animal, she felt the awful tension in his little body. A nightmare gripped him as he slept and Mantis, accustomed to reading emotions to see what caused such terrors, made the mistake of reading his.

There was no one there to see the horror that twisted her face or the tears that sprang into her eyes.  This time it wasn't Rocket's scream that brought the crew running. It was Mantis's despairing shriek as she bolted from the room.

Every hair on Rocket's body stood out straight as he woke, rolling off the sofa onto all fours. Before he was even fully awake a clawed hand was under the sofa and around the grip of the plasma gun he always stowed within each reach when he slept. He came up onto his feet only to free his hands, one on the trigger and one ready to flip the setting from 'More or less all right to fire inside the ship' to 'I don't care if I blow a hole in the hull, you need to die right now.'

He skidded into the doorway with Groot clinging to his tail and the blaster ready only to find the whole crew gathered around the dinner table. There was no sign of danger, just Quill, Drax and Gamora all huddled around a sobbing Mantis.

"I told you not to-" Peter was right in the middle of saying to her. Rocket scanned the room for threats, and scowled as he realized there weren't any.

"Eh, its just the empath crying again," he grumbled, and turned back into the corridor.

What happened next would never have occurred before he met the Guardians. If anyone but one of them had run up on him from behind the best case scenario for them would be that he had nonlethal ordinance in his weapons. If it had been a group of strangers he would have spun at the first footfall and lit them up.

But he trusted the Guardians, even trusted Mantis as much as he trusted anyone he'd known only a few days. A furry ear flipped around as he heard the slap of a bare foot but he was uncharacteristically slow to react and suddenly soft hands were around his chest and his feet left the deck. Groot lost his grip on his ringed tail and Rocket went rigid as he realized it was Mantis who had grabbed him. It was just a hug but to Rocket any unexpected contact was a threat, especially if it was someone bigger than he was.

"Get off!" He snarled, cybernetically augmented hands trying to pry hers from his chest.  She was stronger than she looked and he'd dropped the blaster. He kicked at her knee, increasingly agitated despite her efforts to soothe him.

"You poor little thing," she said into his ear.  "What did they do to you?"

Rocket didn't like being picked up or pushed around. Anyone else would have bite marks by now but even in this safe environment his struggles intensified. The last time someone had picked him up like this he'd been wearing a muzzle and-

"No," he snarled, his tail fluffing out in terror.  "No, no, NO! Let go!" His ears went back and he wasn't wearing a muzzle this time.  He twisted in Mantis's grip and Peter was there. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and for the second time his fangs went into Peter's flesh, the human's forearm receiving the bite intended for Mantis's throat.

Then Drax was there too, his huge hand on Rocket's other shoulder, and Gamora, hers on his nape not quite petting him, and even Groot was clinging to his tail again, and Rocket realized they weren't restraining him. Their grip just held him close, but he could wriggle free if he wanted. Even Mantis, sensing his terror, loosened her grip.

"It's all right Rocket," Peter said, even as blood dripped down his arm, "It's all right."

It started with a shudder, a twitch in his belly, and before Rocket knew what was happening he was crying, ugly wracking sobs shaking his little body. Drax took him away from Mantis and they all stood close as the only one of them who had ever actually raised a child held Rocket tight and murmured comforting words. Hands that for once weren't there to hurt him, cut him open, or break him stroked his fur and Rocket sobbed, his shell finally cracked. The last time someone held him like this was so far in the past all he remembered was warm fur and safety.

Eventually he cried himself into exhaustion and found the little band all sitting on the sofa or on chairs close to it. His eyes cleared and he saw Mantis's forearms, deeply scratched, and Quill sticking smart bandages on the holes his fangs had made.

"How did that happen," Rocket wondered, and stirred in Drax's grip enough for the giant to let him slide from his arms and sit on the sofa. "Mantis-"

"I did nothing," the empath said in her strange accent.  "I could feel it needed to come out, but forcing it would not help.  It had to come out on its own."

"This isn't right," Rocket said, and though he felt somehow lighter his ears were down and his gaze downcast.  "I can't be this weak."

"It is not weakness!" Drax said sharply.  "Keeping it all inside, forever, that is weakness. Sooner or later you must let yourself feel.  Keeping it all inside is what made Ronan."

"And Ego," Peter muttered. Mantis nodded.

"Thanos," Gamora said.

Suddenly Peter's hand was on Rocket's nape and the raccoon's chops drew back to expose his fangs. Only the blood already on Quill's wrist made him hesitate. In that frozen instant Peter began to scratch him gently behind the ears.

"Rocket," the man said softy, "It's us.  Not strangers, not enemies.  Not people who want to hurt you and sure as hell not the ones that make you wake up screaming.  It's us."

"No," Rocket growled.  "Don't do that.  I'm not an animal."

"Of course you aren't," Mantis said.  "You're Rocket.  But you still like to be petted."

"I don't -"

"Rocket," Peter said gently.  "Before Ego I'd been coming to your room for weeks to pet you because if I didn't you'd have a nightmare and wake up screaming. Then you bit me and I still kept coming, right?  It's a small ship. You can't keep something like that secret and you sure can't pretend you are asleep that many times without everyone knowing."

Rocket sighed. Somehow, despite it all, he was calm. All the fear had bled out of him with the tears.

"All right," he said.  "All right.  I like to be petted. It feels good. And yes, sometimes at night I, I remember things.  Things I don't want to remember.  Having Groot around helps but he's so little still.  He has to sleep too."

"Just remember," said Drax in that deep voice, "You are not alone. You have your family all around you."

Rocket's hands found a smart pad on the table and he absently disassembled it and rebuilt it by touch.  Working with his hands relaxed him more than almost anything.  "Family," he said.  "I could learn to like that word."

His hard shell had finally cracked and though in public he was as snarky and sarcastic as ever, and just as likely to sink his teeth into you if you tried to pet him, on the Milano it was different.  Here he could admit that he enjoyed simple pleasures like having his ears scratched. And the nightmares, though they would never full fade, at least weren't as frequent or as terrifying. It was possible to move on, even from a past as awful as his.

It was shortly after that Peter took a solo trip to Earth to collect new music and on the way back bought the 'Travel bed for anthropomorphs, size 4'. It was an odd round little thing with a raised lip embroidered with the Ravagers symbol and Rocket's name, well padded and large enough for him to curl up in.  Instead of sleeping on a pillow or bunched up blanket the raccoon was often to be found under a workbench or in the common areas snoozing away in the thing.  It was safe to pet him now, too. Safer, anyway.

But he was still Rocket, and one day in the common area Peter sat down on the sofa to idly scratch behind the seemingly sound asleep raccoon's ears.  He went  wide-eyed when a small but cybernetically augmented hand clamped down on his fingers.

"Just so you know," Rocket said without opening his eyes, "I know where you got this bed.  I know what it's for. And if I'd caught you laughing at me behind my back for sleeping in it you  would have woken up without your dick.  But you didn't, and it's comfortable. So thank you."

With that he stretched, curled up in the pet bed and went back to sleep, and Peter just rubbed his fingers and smiled at his violent little friend.

#Rocket Raccoon #Guardians of the Galaxy #ptsd #star-lord #mantis #drax the destroyer #gamora #baby groot